Tomorrow Gamer Guy and his family are stopping to pick me up, and we are all headed to Cincinnati to celebrate the New Year. Being the new girlfriend/significant other/whatever of the group, I have been invited to go along too.
So that means I have been trying to pack, because when I return on Monday I have to head to BG for the start of the winter term. So this may be the last blog post until I am back in BG. Part of me can't wait to get there. But I dread the class I'm taking just a little bit. And I know I will spend a lot of time chained to my desk working on the thesis. Oh well. I won't be accosted by Mom or Stepfather there, and that will be good.
So anyways, until whenever I have returned.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
End to an Era
As of this afternoon, Dark-Haired Grandmother is officially retired.
I went in to the office today and had lunch with her, Chief Deputy (also retired as of this afternoon), the girls, and the incoming clerk. We had a nice time.
I also had some work to do for a project, and went off on a photography excursion. That was my excuse for going to the old courthouse building and taking one last walk through the secret passageways. I don't know if I'll ever be back inside that area again.
But I stuck around and even helped them out by doing the money checkout this afternoon. I came out dead even, so it was a good day.
I don't remember life without DHG being circuit clerk, because she has been clerk since before I was born. She was always re-elected. She never had any opposition. Five years as chief deputy. Twenty-five as the clerk.
I think she's deserving of a break.
I went in to the office today and had lunch with her, Chief Deputy (also retired as of this afternoon), the girls, and the incoming clerk. We had a nice time.
I also had some work to do for a project, and went off on a photography excursion. That was my excuse for going to the old courthouse building and taking one last walk through the secret passageways. I don't know if I'll ever be back inside that area again.
But I stuck around and even helped them out by doing the money checkout this afternoon. I came out dead even, so it was a good day.
I don't remember life without DHG being circuit clerk, because she has been clerk since before I was born. She was always re-elected. She never had any opposition. Five years as chief deputy. Twenty-five as the clerk.
I think she's deserving of a break.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
The Price of Truth
I guess I've come down from the emotional spike that prompted that last post. Part of me feels a little sheepish, and reminded me again that I should limit my impulse-blogging. But even though I am not on the verge tonight of going stark-raving mad, I would hesitate to say that the emotion was not genuine. That there are not still whispers of it lingering in the daytime. Of course, don't allow this admission to make you think I excel at Jedi calming techniques...because I don't.
Mindspin mentioned something in the comments of the last post about being true to myself. That's what makes this time of year so difficult, and could very well be the reason for the random 3AM insanity. There is supposed to be time to be spent with family at this time of year, and Mom generally does everything in her power to try to make sure that Stepfather is around for the festivities. It doesn't hurt my feelings when I don't have to see him; in fact, I try to limit those engagements as much as humanly possible while still trying to have some scrap of a relationship with my mother -- scrap as it is. And I will not stay in that house. Not now. Not anymore. I can visit, but a visit is about all I can muster. In fact, my threshold for both the house and the man have reached their limit, but thankfully I don't have to go back before I return to campus New Year's Day night for the winter term. (Yes, I am taking a winter term class as another way of getting out of being here an extra three weeks.)
But this year, there were a few times where I simply shrugged my shoulders and said to myself: He's here. I'm here. Nothing I can do. Might as well just sit as far away as possible and not make conversation and enjoy the relatives I do like spending time with. I guess my true preference would be to not see him at all. To just abstain until he was gone off to work or otherwise occupied. But I know that it's not really an option unless I just want to not see the rest of my family during the holidays that he happens to be home. So I let it go and ride it out.
And part of me wonders if that is a good idea, if I've failed myself somehow by just taking one in the gut. It makes me dizzy when I see him interacting with the kids of the family. His relatives have no idea, and they let their children around him because "he's just a big kid himself" and that is -- on the exterior of the situation -- a good way to keep the children occupied while the real adults visit with one another. Part of me just wants to walk up to some parents and say, "Ask my mother why I don't stay there anymore." Talk about turning the world on its head.
Just tonight, before I left to come home after a day spent out with Grandmother and Mom, Mom asked me to stay with her. She told me that was all she wanted for Christmas this year a month or so ago -- for me to stay with her. For me to cower behind a locked door (and that door would be locked) until morning so that she can wake up, find me in the room where I spent all the sleepless nights in high school, and feel like she has claimed a victory toward being a "family" again.
And it hurts her when I say no. And it makes her angry.
It hurts me when she asks. And it makes me angry.
It seems we are at an impasse.
But I refuse to betray myself like that. I won't put myself through that again.
But at the same time, I know I can't win this. I'm fighting a losing battle and I don't think there's a way to change that. All I know is that if I give in to her pleadings to stay with her, I'll have lost and will lose a lot more than this. But there doesn't seem to be a way to go forward, either.
Mindspin mentioned something in the comments of the last post about being true to myself. That's what makes this time of year so difficult, and could very well be the reason for the random 3AM insanity. There is supposed to be time to be spent with family at this time of year, and Mom generally does everything in her power to try to make sure that Stepfather is around for the festivities. It doesn't hurt my feelings when I don't have to see him; in fact, I try to limit those engagements as much as humanly possible while still trying to have some scrap of a relationship with my mother -- scrap as it is. And I will not stay in that house. Not now. Not anymore. I can visit, but a visit is about all I can muster. In fact, my threshold for both the house and the man have reached their limit, but thankfully I don't have to go back before I return to campus New Year's Day night for the winter term. (Yes, I am taking a winter term class as another way of getting out of being here an extra three weeks.)
But this year, there were a few times where I simply shrugged my shoulders and said to myself: He's here. I'm here. Nothing I can do. Might as well just sit as far away as possible and not make conversation and enjoy the relatives I do like spending time with. I guess my true preference would be to not see him at all. To just abstain until he was gone off to work or otherwise occupied. But I know that it's not really an option unless I just want to not see the rest of my family during the holidays that he happens to be home. So I let it go and ride it out.
And part of me wonders if that is a good idea, if I've failed myself somehow by just taking one in the gut. It makes me dizzy when I see him interacting with the kids of the family. His relatives have no idea, and they let their children around him because "he's just a big kid himself" and that is -- on the exterior of the situation -- a good way to keep the children occupied while the real adults visit with one another. Part of me just wants to walk up to some parents and say, "Ask my mother why I don't stay there anymore." Talk about turning the world on its head.
Just tonight, before I left to come home after a day spent out with Grandmother and Mom, Mom asked me to stay with her. She told me that was all she wanted for Christmas this year a month or so ago -- for me to stay with her. For me to cower behind a locked door (and that door would be locked) until morning so that she can wake up, find me in the room where I spent all the sleepless nights in high school, and feel like she has claimed a victory toward being a "family" again.
And it hurts her when I say no. And it makes her angry.
It hurts me when she asks. And it makes me angry.
It seems we are at an impasse.
But I refuse to betray myself like that. I won't put myself through that again.
But at the same time, I know I can't win this. I'm fighting a losing battle and I don't think there's a way to change that. All I know is that if I give in to her pleadings to stay with her, I'll have lost and will lose a lot more than this. But there doesn't seem to be a way to go forward, either.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Insomnia
I can't sleep. And I don't know why. I haven't been able to sleep since I came home for the Christmas break. It's 3:30 in the morning; I've been up since 7:30 this morning since I had to get up and be ready to rush to my mother's; but I can't get sleepy. I'm exhausted but I can't sleep.
For some reason my thoughts have wandered back to the end of my senior year of high school. I can still see myself sitting in that conference room, facing both a detective and a social worker. I couldn't see both of them at the same time; they sat far enough apart to be sure of that. I still remember verbatim some of the questions that were asked, and my responses to those questions. And I remember the fear. I wish someone had told me how an interrogation like that works. Their only concern was to figure out who put what where when and then determine whether or not that was, indeed, a violation of a law.
In my case, it apparently wasn't.
They offered to charge him on my behalf with something along the lines of indecent exposure. I don't remember the exact code or charge, but I remember that it was a minor misdemeanor that would not have amounted to anything more than fines and costs that my mother would've had to pay on his behalf. Then he might have had it on his record for a few years. But then he could've had it expunged afterward. It was a do-nothing charge. A consolation prize charge. They didn't believe me, did not record/relate the full extent of what actually happened and it was insulting.
But I was too scared to make sense of any of it then. I was being a coward.
The truth of the matter is, I should've made them charge him anyway.
I know there was not enough "physical evidence" that the charge would've stuck had he fought it and taken it to trial. I know that the County Attorney is in cahoots with his parents and that she would probably have dropped the charges or put him on diversion or some such nonsense like that. I know my mother would've been the only one affected, and it would've been only from the financial standpoint of throwing around $400 down the toilet to pay his fines and court costs. And I know then the business of what had happened would've spread even faster and farther than it did.
But I should have done it. I wouldn't be sitting in the limbo that I'm trapped in now, especially around holidays. It was a shatterpoint and I let it slip away. Instead of the social worker telling my mother to get a court order to get me to come back to her house, I should've made that woman give me some sort of documentation saying I didn't have to go back there. I should have forced her to be on my side -- where she was supposed to be in the first place.
I don't know why I understand this at 3:30 in the morning. Maybe I will decide by tomorrow that I still have not comprehended it correctly. But now, having thought about all this, I am even more reluctant to go to sleep. Because I am still a coward. And I think I shall see his face in my dreams again. And to think it's been so long since the last nightmare.
For some reason my thoughts have wandered back to the end of my senior year of high school. I can still see myself sitting in that conference room, facing both a detective and a social worker. I couldn't see both of them at the same time; they sat far enough apart to be sure of that. I still remember verbatim some of the questions that were asked, and my responses to those questions. And I remember the fear. I wish someone had told me how an interrogation like that works. Their only concern was to figure out who put what where when and then determine whether or not that was, indeed, a violation of a law.
In my case, it apparently wasn't.
They offered to charge him on my behalf with something along the lines of indecent exposure. I don't remember the exact code or charge, but I remember that it was a minor misdemeanor that would not have amounted to anything more than fines and costs that my mother would've had to pay on his behalf. Then he might have had it on his record for a few years. But then he could've had it expunged afterward. It was a do-nothing charge. A consolation prize charge. They didn't believe me, did not record/relate the full extent of what actually happened and it was insulting.
But I was too scared to make sense of any of it then. I was being a coward.
The truth of the matter is, I should've made them charge him anyway.
I know there was not enough "physical evidence" that the charge would've stuck had he fought it and taken it to trial. I know that the County Attorney is in cahoots with his parents and that she would probably have dropped the charges or put him on diversion or some such nonsense like that. I know my mother would've been the only one affected, and it would've been only from the financial standpoint of throwing around $400 down the toilet to pay his fines and court costs. And I know then the business of what had happened would've spread even faster and farther than it did.
But I should have done it. I wouldn't be sitting in the limbo that I'm trapped in now, especially around holidays. It was a shatterpoint and I let it slip away. Instead of the social worker telling my mother to get a court order to get me to come back to her house, I should've made that woman give me some sort of documentation saying I didn't have to go back there. I should have forced her to be on my side -- where she was supposed to be in the first place.
I don't know why I understand this at 3:30 in the morning. Maybe I will decide by tomorrow that I still have not comprehended it correctly. But now, having thought about all this, I am even more reluctant to go to sleep. Because I am still a coward. And I think I shall see his face in my dreams again. And to think it's been so long since the last nightmare.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Froehliche Weihnachten
A happy holidays to all, somewhat late, as it is night on Christmas day. But hey, things have been slightly hectic with the divorced powers-that-be attempting to insist that I spend time with both of them. But I suppose it has been mostly nice, except for the fact that I essentially force myself to look past Stepfather for the time that I spend with certain parts of that family. Sigh. One day I will learn to not let people walk all over me.
But now the gifts have been exchanged. P and G have gone to spend the night with some relatives from their father's family. China is stretched out in the living room floor, sleeping beneath the glow of the overhead light. Dad and Stepmom are sitting together, reclined on the couch, sipping their evening beer and watching Pirates of the Carribean on TV.
And now there is peace. And time to write blog posts. And time to play with the new iPod that has replaced the Creative Labs mp3 player I had that died back in October after operating for only a year or so. I understand now why Apple has the monopoly in the portable music business.
And on the random odd note, happy 200 posts to the blog.
But now the gifts have been exchanged. P and G have gone to spend the night with some relatives from their father's family. China is stretched out in the living room floor, sleeping beneath the glow of the overhead light. Dad and Stepmom are sitting together, reclined on the couch, sipping their evening beer and watching Pirates of the Carribean on TV.
And now there is peace. And time to write blog posts. And time to play with the new iPod that has replaced the Creative Labs mp3 player I had that died back in October after operating for only a year or so. I understand now why Apple has the monopoly in the portable music business.
And on the random odd note, happy 200 posts to the blog.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Cracking the Code and the Coconut
I was going to wait and post this in the morning (oh, wait, it practically is morning), but I can't sleep tonight. I have the beginnings of the sickness again, which I don't know whether to blame on home or the imminent coming of the Christmas holiday, which also guarantees my ill health yearly. This may have something to do with the insomnia.
Otherwise, I don't know. I just can't sleep.
So instead I'll talk about the cracking of things that has been happening in the household the past few days.
My parents have started a tradition in order to drive P and G nuts every Christmas. Instead of putting our names on presents under the tree, they instead develop some sort of numbering system to attempt to confuse them. The dog's gifts are also included in the coding, just to add insult to injury. P and G are both big into the snooping business, and this is Dad and Stepmom's way of attempting to at least delay P determining what his presents are before Christmas.
I laughed until I thought I would cry when I saw Dad had introduced an 8-bit hexadecimal code to completely boggle their minds this year. I think they were a little flabbergasted at first as well. But they're wily teenagers, and they set to work writing down the numbers and arguing over how the code worked. They have not yet learned to work cooperatively at this. No, it is a competition. Two heads are better than one except when the two heads are both determined to out decode the other. Of course, there is also the added hazards of having parents that can't always remember exactly how they coded their presents, and will also oftentimes willingly say or do something to encourage P or G down the wrong path to throw them off from the truth. Me? I just sit back and watch it all transpire. I possess a little thing called patience that the two teenagers seem to be lacking at ages 13 and 15.
But alas, the code did not last long. It has already been cracked. G, irritated that her calculations had not yielded the correct answer, finally broke down and surfed the internet until she found an explanation of 8-bit hexadecimal code. According to Dad, she has successfully cracked it. She has not shared her information with P, as far as I know; he has given up, put out by the fact that he could not beat his sister, and seeing no reason to do a second place finish. G has pointed out a gift or two that she claims belong to me, but I will hold out for the final word from the parents before I follow anything she says. Of course, I've also just gotten her to do the work for me. 8-bit hexadecimal codes. My parents have too much fun with Christmas.
Tonight the cracking was of a much more literal nature. I had bought a coconut while still in BG, under the impression that Gamer Guy was going to use it as a prop to help me work on the sound session for my animation. We were going to clean it out and use the empty shell as something to beat together to create the sound of a horse galloping (think Monty Python and you've got the idea). But due to some time constraints, we were forced to look for the sound online, and never opened the coconut. So a coconut got to come home with me from college for Christmas break. When I asked him about it, GG still said he wanted to cut it open and clean out the milk and fruit and then have the shell to use for such Monty Python-esque escapades, so I agreed that we would crack into it.
But we never got around to it while he was here. So tonight, for some reason, P and G both took deep interest in the opening of the wild, exotic fruit that was riding around in the floorboard of my little Ford Focus, and G pleaded that we find some way to crack it open.
Anybody here ever crack open a coconut? I didn't think so.
So I asked Dad if he would help us out. He walked out to the garage, and came back toting a power drill with a bit placed on the end. Before I could comment much, he had the coconut on the kitchen counter and had drilled a very exact and clean-looking hole in the middle of one side. I got a plastic bowl and turned the thing over, allowing the liquid to pour out. Once we had an empty coconut, I asked Dad if he could open it without completely crushing the shell. Next thing I knew he was holding it under the end of a butcher knife and jamming the handle down on to the seam of it. It wasn't long until it cracked, though the top broke off separately from the two sides. We cut into the coconut to taste it. I wasn't impressed. In fact, I now have a theory about the taste of coconuts. It reminded me vaguely of the smell of suntan oil or lotion. Keeping with the whole idea of being "tropical", I'm betting that the companies that make these products either use coconut or synthesize something that smells remotely like it to add into the ingredients (this could easily be solved if I wasn't lazy and would go find a bottle and look at the ingredients listed.
Eating the coconut, I kind of felt like I was eating suntan lotion. I did not find the experience very pleasant. Therefore, I hypothesize that the suntan lotion industry has ruined the taste of coconut for all mankind because we have a scent association to lotion when we smell/taste real coconut.
I'm sure researchers will be jumping at the chance to take this one on. That is all. I must try to sleep now.
Otherwise, I don't know. I just can't sleep.
So instead I'll talk about the cracking of things that has been happening in the household the past few days.
My parents have started a tradition in order to drive P and G nuts every Christmas. Instead of putting our names on presents under the tree, they instead develop some sort of numbering system to attempt to confuse them. The dog's gifts are also included in the coding, just to add insult to injury. P and G are both big into the snooping business, and this is Dad and Stepmom's way of attempting to at least delay P determining what his presents are before Christmas.
I laughed until I thought I would cry when I saw Dad had introduced an 8-bit hexadecimal code to completely boggle their minds this year. I think they were a little flabbergasted at first as well. But they're wily teenagers, and they set to work writing down the numbers and arguing over how the code worked. They have not yet learned to work cooperatively at this. No, it is a competition. Two heads are better than one except when the two heads are both determined to out decode the other. Of course, there is also the added hazards of having parents that can't always remember exactly how they coded their presents, and will also oftentimes willingly say or do something to encourage P or G down the wrong path to throw them off from the truth. Me? I just sit back and watch it all transpire. I possess a little thing called patience that the two teenagers seem to be lacking at ages 13 and 15.
But alas, the code did not last long. It has already been cracked. G, irritated that her calculations had not yielded the correct answer, finally broke down and surfed the internet until she found an explanation of 8-bit hexadecimal code. According to Dad, she has successfully cracked it. She has not shared her information with P, as far as I know; he has given up, put out by the fact that he could not beat his sister, and seeing no reason to do a second place finish. G has pointed out a gift or two that she claims belong to me, but I will hold out for the final word from the parents before I follow anything she says. Of course, I've also just gotten her to do the work for me. 8-bit hexadecimal codes. My parents have too much fun with Christmas.
Tonight the cracking was of a much more literal nature. I had bought a coconut while still in BG, under the impression that Gamer Guy was going to use it as a prop to help me work on the sound session for my animation. We were going to clean it out and use the empty shell as something to beat together to create the sound of a horse galloping (think Monty Python and you've got the idea). But due to some time constraints, we were forced to look for the sound online, and never opened the coconut. So a coconut got to come home with me from college for Christmas break. When I asked him about it, GG still said he wanted to cut it open and clean out the milk and fruit and then have the shell to use for such Monty Python-esque escapades, so I agreed that we would crack into it.
But we never got around to it while he was here. So tonight, for some reason, P and G both took deep interest in the opening of the wild, exotic fruit that was riding around in the floorboard of my little Ford Focus, and G pleaded that we find some way to crack it open.
Anybody here ever crack open a coconut? I didn't think so.
So I asked Dad if he would help us out. He walked out to the garage, and came back toting a power drill with a bit placed on the end. Before I could comment much, he had the coconut on the kitchen counter and had drilled a very exact and clean-looking hole in the middle of one side. I got a plastic bowl and turned the thing over, allowing the liquid to pour out. Once we had an empty coconut, I asked Dad if he could open it without completely crushing the shell. Next thing I knew he was holding it under the end of a butcher knife and jamming the handle down on to the seam of it. It wasn't long until it cracked, though the top broke off separately from the two sides. We cut into the coconut to taste it. I wasn't impressed. In fact, I now have a theory about the taste of coconuts. It reminded me vaguely of the smell of suntan oil or lotion. Keeping with the whole idea of being "tropical", I'm betting that the companies that make these products either use coconut or synthesize something that smells remotely like it to add into the ingredients (this could easily be solved if I wasn't lazy and would go find a bottle and look at the ingredients listed.
Eating the coconut, I kind of felt like I was eating suntan lotion. I did not find the experience very pleasant. Therefore, I hypothesize that the suntan lotion industry has ruined the taste of coconut for all mankind because we have a scent association to lotion when we smell/taste real coconut.
I'm sure researchers will be jumping at the chance to take this one on. That is all. I must try to sleep now.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Quiet
The house is quiet again. No. That can't be it. I was awakened this morning by what sounded like a stampede of elephants trampling on my head.
I returned Gamer Guy to his car in BG yesterday afternoon, and then came back home. Ever since there has been a stillness swirling in the house. I don't really understand why. There are still four people and a dog milling about aside from me. Perhaps it is because they all have their own daily routines to carry out that unsurprisingly have little to do with my involvement, seeing as I have been essentially nonexistent for the past couple of months.
When GG was here, I always had company, if I was driving in the car or sitting in the basement or playing a game. There was always conversation. Always something to laugh about, especially when P and G got involved. They amuse him.
I talked to GG last night after I made it back home. He had also returned safely to his mom and dog and cat. All was well.
It just seems so quiet now. I've actually been reading.
I returned Gamer Guy to his car in BG yesterday afternoon, and then came back home. Ever since there has been a stillness swirling in the house. I don't really understand why. There are still four people and a dog milling about aside from me. Perhaps it is because they all have their own daily routines to carry out that unsurprisingly have little to do with my involvement, seeing as I have been essentially nonexistent for the past couple of months.
When GG was here, I always had company, if I was driving in the car or sitting in the basement or playing a game. There was always conversation. Always something to laugh about, especially when P and G got involved. They amuse him.
I talked to GG last night after I made it back home. He had also returned safely to his mom and dog and cat. All was well.
It just seems so quiet now. I've actually been reading.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Survival of the Fittest
I have not posted in a few days because there was one last final exam to tackle, and I've been taking care of Gamer Guy while he's been visiting. The bad part about the whole thing was that there have been a couple of family "get-togethers" in the past couple of days, and he has been forced to tag along. (Though, I will say that he voluntarily agreed to come home with me for the weekend, knowing full well that these things were slated to happen.)
It wouldn't be so bad except that we were both so tired to begin with, having not gotten much sleep the week of finals, and then having to make the trip back on top of that. Needless to say, by the end of last night we were both pretty exhausted. Gamer Guy is not used to a person who has an "extended" family, mainly because neither of his parents have remarried post-divorce, and his family is small to begin with. Thus, he met the crazy people that compose some of my relatives.
But he has survived. That says a lot. And he has not complained about it. That also says a lot. I asked him to go to one thing just because it was Stepfather's family. It's not that I have something against them, I just didn't want to go alone with Mom and Stepfather. And I didn't have to. That says a lot too.
Earlier this morning, when I first found him sort of awake on the couch, he asked me if there was anything specific we had to do today. I told him 'no'. We have nothing to do except see each other and mess around with P and G and just generally enjoy life. He smiled. The gauntlet is over. He endured and he does not appear to be ready to run away even after the fact.
So now I'm waiting for him to get out of the shower so that we might get something to eat and carry on with our last day together before I take him back to BG.
It wouldn't be so bad except that we were both so tired to begin with, having not gotten much sleep the week of finals, and then having to make the trip back on top of that. Needless to say, by the end of last night we were both pretty exhausted. Gamer Guy is not used to a person who has an "extended" family, mainly because neither of his parents have remarried post-divorce, and his family is small to begin with. Thus, he met the crazy people that compose some of my relatives.
But he has survived. That says a lot. And he has not complained about it. That also says a lot. I asked him to go to one thing just because it was Stepfather's family. It's not that I have something against them, I just didn't want to go alone with Mom and Stepfather. And I didn't have to. That says a lot too.
Earlier this morning, when I first found him sort of awake on the couch, he asked me if there was anything specific we had to do today. I told him 'no'. We have nothing to do except see each other and mess around with P and G and just generally enjoy life. He smiled. The gauntlet is over. He endured and he does not appear to be ready to run away even after the fact.
So now I'm waiting for him to get out of the shower so that we might get something to eat and carry on with our last day together before I take him back to BG.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Being My Boyfriend's Keeper
I do not know why I have not brought up the Boyfriend in the past couple of months. I guess that's what I'll call him. Actually, it's Gamer Guy, so maybe I'll just stick with that. I have issues with the title of 'boyfriend', as it were. Something about it just seems so...adolescent. And, granted, we are not so far past the stage of being adolescent. But come on; we're both in our twenties. We can tie our own shoes and the relationship did not begin with a "check yes or no" letter that got passed across the length of a classroom. It actually started after one very awkward moment at an S-Bahn station in Munich that might have made us feel like we were twelve again. (Especially for me, who was shocked to find that there was anyone on this planet that would actually have any mutual warm fuzzy feelings for someone such as myself.) And that's totally beside the point, thank you very much. "World without end. Amen."
But there's really no good alternative to 'boyfriend' that I have found. 'Partner' is just too generic for me. I experimented for a bit with 'significant other', but that just sounds painful and doesn't roll off the tongue very well and may also suggest that we are a bit more serious than we are. Not to say that we are "un-serious" -- that we're just acting out on big joke of a charade for shits and giggles; but there are perhaps multiple levels of serious that we have not yet reached that could be suggested by calling someone your SO. (I'll save my rant about the phrase "getting serious" for some other time, because I'm way off track as to the point of this post already.)
In any case, it has been an interesting few months. Dad and Stepmom did not know until two months later; Mom did not know until three months later. GG and I are very sure that nearly everyone in the German club (including German Professor) has figured us out, though no one (save one who we sometimes see outside of class and GC stuff) has said anything to us, and so it does create this atmosphere of near-constant hilarity since we are the only two people that ever show up to anything together.
Knowing all this, perhaps one could now understand why the following story is funny.
Tuesday I went up the hill to turn in a final, and then stopped by to return a film to German Professor. When I arrived, Tall Guy was also there talking to her. He saw me coming down the hallway as he was about to leave and asked, "Hey, do you know where [Gamer Guy] is?"
My deadpan response was, "What am I, [Gamer Guy's] keeper?"
I told him I was only teasing. He said, "Well, I just knew you two were friends so I thought you might know."
Of course, I told him that I wasn't sure but that he was probably in his room working. TG went on his way, and I knocked on the door frame of GP's office. I returned the tape and we talked for a few minutes about some things, some of which related to GG. At some point, she said to me, "And since you're [Gamer Guy's] keeper..."
Apparently, this is my new job. To be the keeper of the Gamer Guy.
So I started today by helping him clean his room. We both have to check out tomorrow for the winter break. And, well, the boy needed help. I am not a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, but I do have a thing about keeping all things academic-related in some sort of order. In fact, I keep a heavy-duty binder for each class that I have, and papers from one class are not supposed to touch papers from another class. That might be the only cardinal sin in my book. His method of organization had simply been to create numerous paper piles around the room, all of which were allegedly in some sort of order that he understood. He also had a stack of filing trays for paperwork that were all empty. So as he attempted to get all of the trash together, I took all of his tests, papers, and other things from his classes, sorted them, put them with the appropriate notebook of notes, and promptly filed them away in his filing trays. What a novel concept.
And his books. His books were everywhere, many of them simply stacked up next to the numerous paper piles. Did I mention that he has a two-shelf bookshelf under his bed that was mostly empty? So there was the lesson of "Where do books go? On a bookshelf." Another amazing idea brought to him by the girlfriend that must always know where her books and papers are.
While he vacuumed, there were other minor organizational infractions to repair. The computer desk is not where bathroom supplies go. Things like deodorant, tweezers, fingernail clippers, hairbrushes, and ponytail holders go in the bathroom because they are bathroom supplies. Spare change should go in some sort of cup as opposed to just being dumped all over said desk. Dirty clothes go in the laundry bag and not on top of desk or in the middle of the floor. Blankets that need to be washed can also go in the laundry bag.
And so on. And so forth. He even cleaned the toilet that his roommate had promised to clean back when he moved in some time in October.
Granted, the job was not totally finished when we gave up. But it was something. We took the trash out on the way to dinner. (It took both of us.) Afterwards we went walking into town and made it down to the square. The place has been decorated for Christmas, with lights on the trees and the fountain. We sat down there and talked about this coming weekend. The poor soul is coming home with me for a few days. He is going with me to a party being hosted by some of Stepfather's family. I would be fighting against going otherwise. But he will be with me. I will not be alone. I don't have a problem with Stepfather's family, really. But it would be much more of an issue if my mother was expecting me to go with just her and Stepfather. I only hope that GG is not feeling used. Sometimes I wonder if I'm using any and all of my friends that have agreed to stay with me during such situations. I guess we'll see if he runs away screaming afterward.
But we both have a German final at 8:30 tomorrow morning. I guess I should get to studying.
Looking back at this post and what I did today, I feel like such a girl.
But there's really no good alternative to 'boyfriend' that I have found. 'Partner' is just too generic for me. I experimented for a bit with 'significant other', but that just sounds painful and doesn't roll off the tongue very well and may also suggest that we are a bit more serious than we are. Not to say that we are "un-serious" -- that we're just acting out on big joke of a charade for shits and giggles; but there are perhaps multiple levels of serious that we have not yet reached that could be suggested by calling someone your SO. (I'll save my rant about the phrase "getting serious" for some other time, because I'm way off track as to the point of this post already.)
In any case, it has been an interesting few months. Dad and Stepmom did not know until two months later; Mom did not know until three months later. GG and I are very sure that nearly everyone in the German club (including German Professor) has figured us out, though no one (save one who we sometimes see outside of class and GC stuff) has said anything to us, and so it does create this atmosphere of near-constant hilarity since we are the only two people that ever show up to anything together.
Knowing all this, perhaps one could now understand why the following story is funny.
Tuesday I went up the hill to turn in a final, and then stopped by to return a film to German Professor. When I arrived, Tall Guy was also there talking to her. He saw me coming down the hallway as he was about to leave and asked, "Hey, do you know where [Gamer Guy] is?"
My deadpan response was, "What am I, [Gamer Guy's] keeper?"
I told him I was only teasing. He said, "Well, I just knew you two were friends so I thought you might know."
Of course, I told him that I wasn't sure but that he was probably in his room working. TG went on his way, and I knocked on the door frame of GP's office. I returned the tape and we talked for a few minutes about some things, some of which related to GG. At some point, she said to me, "And since you're [Gamer Guy's] keeper..."
Apparently, this is my new job. To be the keeper of the Gamer Guy.
So I started today by helping him clean his room. We both have to check out tomorrow for the winter break. And, well, the boy needed help. I am not a neat freak by any stretch of the imagination, but I do have a thing about keeping all things academic-related in some sort of order. In fact, I keep a heavy-duty binder for each class that I have, and papers from one class are not supposed to touch papers from another class. That might be the only cardinal sin in my book. His method of organization had simply been to create numerous paper piles around the room, all of which were allegedly in some sort of order that he understood. He also had a stack of filing trays for paperwork that were all empty. So as he attempted to get all of the trash together, I took all of his tests, papers, and other things from his classes, sorted them, put them with the appropriate notebook of notes, and promptly filed them away in his filing trays. What a novel concept.
And his books. His books were everywhere, many of them simply stacked up next to the numerous paper piles. Did I mention that he has a two-shelf bookshelf under his bed that was mostly empty? So there was the lesson of "Where do books go? On a bookshelf." Another amazing idea brought to him by the girlfriend that must always know where her books and papers are.
While he vacuumed, there were other minor organizational infractions to repair. The computer desk is not where bathroom supplies go. Things like deodorant, tweezers, fingernail clippers, hairbrushes, and ponytail holders go in the bathroom because they are bathroom supplies. Spare change should go in some sort of cup as opposed to just being dumped all over said desk. Dirty clothes go in the laundry bag and not on top of desk or in the middle of the floor. Blankets that need to be washed can also go in the laundry bag.
And so on. And so forth. He even cleaned the toilet that his roommate had promised to clean back when he moved in some time in October.
Granted, the job was not totally finished when we gave up. But it was something. We took the trash out on the way to dinner. (It took both of us.) Afterwards we went walking into town and made it down to the square. The place has been decorated for Christmas, with lights on the trees and the fountain. We sat down there and talked about this coming weekend. The poor soul is coming home with me for a few days. He is going with me to a party being hosted by some of Stepfather's family. I would be fighting against going otherwise. But he will be with me. I will not be alone. I don't have a problem with Stepfather's family, really. But it would be much more of an issue if my mother was expecting me to go with just her and Stepfather. I only hope that GG is not feeling used. Sometimes I wonder if I'm using any and all of my friends that have agreed to stay with me during such situations. I guess we'll see if he runs away screaming afterward.
But we both have a German final at 8:30 tomorrow morning. I guess I should get to studying.
Looking back at this post and what I did today, I feel like such a girl.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Standing on my left eyebrow
The past few days have been somewhat insane, complete with multiple projects and and a written take-home final exam due within days of each other. Of course, the multiple to-do list posts might have made that clear already.
Last weekend, I spoke with a friend of mine via email and related my worries about the end of the semester and the way my due dates had fallen. Her response was to tell me of a phrase her grandmother told her mother once: "You can stand on your left eyebrow that long."
Of course, she couldn't tell me how one might accomplish this task, and it is an interesting mental picture. Even if I scrunch up my face and furrow my brow as much as I can force the muscles to move, there doesn't seem like there's much of anything there to stand upon. I guess that's the point. Though I have to agree that it does convey that feeling of a very precarious balance that one feels when one is overrun with work all due at the same time and not enough hours in the day.
As of this hour, the Politics and Film presentation has been given and the accompanying paper and analysis sheet turned in. The final exam for Victorian Lit. Professor's class is finished and also turned in to her before the deadline yesterday. And after 9.5 hours' worth of editing, the animation project was also finished late last night and turned in earlier today. I really don't want to think about the total number of hours that was spent on that. Almost 10 hours just in editing, not to mention that I had been working and filming off and on since Thanksgiving break. Too much time. That's my answer.
The end of the week is at hand. There is now only the German final Friday morning. And packing. And leaving. And going home for a bit. I know this is out of character for me to say, but part of me is ready to be away from campus for a couple of weeks.
Of course, there is also the part of me that wishes I didn't have to leave. But I sometimes get the feeling that I am going to be forever split this way, and perhaps it is time that I merely accept this as what I am.
Last weekend, I spoke with a friend of mine via email and related my worries about the end of the semester and the way my due dates had fallen. Her response was to tell me of a phrase her grandmother told her mother once: "You can stand on your left eyebrow that long."
Of course, she couldn't tell me how one might accomplish this task, and it is an interesting mental picture. Even if I scrunch up my face and furrow my brow as much as I can force the muscles to move, there doesn't seem like there's much of anything there to stand upon. I guess that's the point. Though I have to agree that it does convey that feeling of a very precarious balance that one feels when one is overrun with work all due at the same time and not enough hours in the day.
As of this hour, the Politics and Film presentation has been given and the accompanying paper and analysis sheet turned in. The final exam for Victorian Lit. Professor's class is finished and also turned in to her before the deadline yesterday. And after 9.5 hours' worth of editing, the animation project was also finished late last night and turned in earlier today. I really don't want to think about the total number of hours that was spent on that. Almost 10 hours just in editing, not to mention that I had been working and filming off and on since Thanksgiving break. Too much time. That's my answer.
The end of the week is at hand. There is now only the German final Friday morning. And packing. And leaving. And going home for a bit. I know this is out of character for me to say, but part of me is ready to be away from campus for a couple of weeks.
Of course, there is also the part of me that wishes I didn't have to leave. But I sometimes get the feeling that I am going to be forever split this way, and perhaps it is time that I merely accept this as what I am.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Update of the to-do list
Okay, so now I can check off numbers 6, 11, 12, and 16. I think I'm going to revise the list and start a new one from here on out.
1. Edit and finish animation project -- due Wednesday.
2. Write out long 6-part final exam for Victorian Lit Professor.
3. Turn in VLP's final by 4:30 on Tuesday.
4. Give presentation in Politics and Film tomorrow evening.
5. Prepare for German final.
6. Eat.
7. Sleep.
8. Breathe.
9. Don't go nuts.
10. Think.
11. Don't panic.
12. Clean.
13. Pack
Well, at least it's smaller than before. Force, same thing as yesterday. Thank you Mindspin for the words of encouragement.
1. Edit and finish animation project -- due Wednesday.
2. Write out long 6-part final exam for Victorian Lit Professor.
3. Turn in VLP's final by 4:30 on Tuesday.
4. Give presentation in Politics and Film tomorrow evening.
5. Prepare for German final.
6. Eat.
7. Sleep.
8. Breathe.
9. Don't go nuts.
10. Think.
11. Don't panic.
12. Clean.
13. Pack
Well, at least it's smaller than before. Force, same thing as yesterday. Thank you Mindspin for the words of encouragement.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Still Here
Okay, check off 8, 9, 10, and 15 at least. Maybe there are others. I don't know. I can't keep track of my to-do list, which is bad.
I'm still here. Still working. Thinking I'm not going to get done. Force, oh you great and powerful entity, do be with me in the next few days. Provide me the physical, mental, and emotional endurance that will allow me to escape this semester with all of my sanity still intact. Give me the power to see what needs to happen with the projects so that I can complete them quickly and not spend much time thinking and wondering about what I should do next. Ease the heaviness of my eyelids and soothe this evil headache born of the jackhammering that is taking place in the yard outside my window (construction next to a dorm during finals week -- now there's a smart idea, thank you University That Cares Nothing For Its Students). Let me have the time to get it all done, some way, somehow. And let me not collapse midway through the process.
Back to filming. I'm so tired.
I'm still here. Still working. Thinking I'm not going to get done. Force, oh you great and powerful entity, do be with me in the next few days. Provide me the physical, mental, and emotional endurance that will allow me to escape this semester with all of my sanity still intact. Give me the power to see what needs to happen with the projects so that I can complete them quickly and not spend much time thinking and wondering about what I should do next. Ease the heaviness of my eyelids and soothe this evil headache born of the jackhammering that is taking place in the yard outside my window (construction next to a dorm during finals week -- now there's a smart idea, thank you University That Cares Nothing For Its Students). Let me have the time to get it all done, some way, somehow. And let me not collapse midway through the process.
Back to filming. I'm so tired.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
The To-Do List, Continued
Okay, I think I can mark numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 13, 14, and 22 off of that list. Hopefully some more will start coming off of there in the next couple of days. I need breathing room. I need to get my act together. I need to stop writing on this blog and do something productive.
Disclaimer: Yes, I have been eating sometimes and sleeping a little over the past couple of days, but since I have a feeling that I need to keep reminding myself to do such things, I'm leaving them on the list for now.
Disclaimer: Yes, I have been eating sometimes and sleeping a little over the past couple of days, but since I have a feeling that I need to keep reminding myself to do such things, I'm leaving them on the list for now.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
The To-Do List
If I do not seem happy and do not blog much for the next week and a half, take it as a sign that I am busy working away at this list and trying not to lose my sanity in the process. Looking at the way things are stacking up now, there literally do not look to be enough hours in the coming days. But we shall see. It's sad when even the semi-fun things are on this list and seem to be nothing more than another chore to take care of as I plan and prioritize my next days to be as efficient as possible.
1. Write something for thesis to shove under American Lit. Professor's door by tomorrow afternoon.
2. Have meeting with ALP on Wednesday at 11:20.
3. Have meeting with Film Professor about thesis tomorrow at 2:15.
4. Go to English Club meeting tomorrow at 4:30.
5. Start researching/writing for last paper in Politics and Film class.
6. Get together with P&F partner to write paper and plan presentation.
7. Finish animation project. (This will take hours over the course of many days, I think.)
8. Go to German club Nikolausfest on Thursday at 6:00.
9. Go to English club Christmas party on Friday at 7:00.
10. Go shopping for Christmas presents and for cream cheese so I can make cheeseball for #9.
11. Have sound session for animation project some time on Sunday.
12. Get together again with P&F Partner for project/paper that is due next Monday, working around his and my schedule.
13. Do final readings for Brit. Lit. class.
14. Do whatever homework German Professor assigns for Thursday.
15. Go to class. (How could I forget that?)
16. Keep working on animation project.
17. Eat.
18. Sleep.
19. Think.
20. Breathe.
21. Don't go nuts.
22. Talk to GP about research for P&F paper.
23. Don't panic.
24. Clean
25. Prepare for finals.
1. Write something for thesis to shove under American Lit. Professor's door by tomorrow afternoon.
2. Have meeting with ALP on Wednesday at 11:20.
3. Have meeting with Film Professor about thesis tomorrow at 2:15.
4. Go to English Club meeting tomorrow at 4:30.
5. Start researching/writing for last paper in Politics and Film class.
6. Get together with P&F partner to write paper and plan presentation.
7. Finish animation project. (This will take hours over the course of many days, I think.)
8. Go to German club Nikolausfest on Thursday at 6:00.
9. Go to English club Christmas party on Friday at 7:00.
10. Go shopping for Christmas presents and for cream cheese so I can make cheeseball for #9.
11. Have sound session for animation project some time on Sunday.
12. Get together again with P&F Partner for project/paper that is due next Monday, working around his and my schedule.
13. Do final readings for Brit. Lit. class.
14. Do whatever homework German Professor assigns for Thursday.
15. Go to class. (How could I forget that?)
16. Keep working on animation project.
17. Eat.
18. Sleep.
19. Think.
20. Breathe.
21. Don't go nuts.
22. Talk to GP about research for P&F paper.
23. Don't panic.
24. Clean
25. Prepare for finals.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Unfinished Business
I was talking on the phone to my mother earlier this evening. Oddly enough, this post isn't about her, though. For once. She's spouting her usual amount of "we'll have so much fun this Christmas" junk that has become Standard Operating Procedure, but she's not acting like she's completely insane at the moment.
So on to the real point of this post.
When our conversation ended, I started cycling through the entries in the phone book function on my cell phone, looking at the numbers and the names attached to them, calculating the chances whether or not I would ever dial some of them. Several numbers belong to old friends from high school that agreed we should keep in touch. But they never call. And I never call them. But it's not like we're angry at each other or anything. So I keep the numbers in the cell...just in case. I guess this is what reunions are for.
But I came across some that I did not realize had not been deleted, and probably should have been long ago. One number was the home phone for Future Fashion Designer, whose story in relation to me has already been told. The other two were numbers belonging to Draco (another story already told in multiple parts) -- a home number and a cell phone.
The thing about my cell is that there is no overriding 'delete' button for any entries I put into the phone book. If I want to delete an entry, I have to go back and delete every character out of it by hand. (I don't know if this is the case with all cell phones or not, but it seems to be so with mine.) In either case, I started to delete. FFD's number was first. I punched 'delete' over an over again, erasing her name and the number. When I hit 'done,' a question popped up on the screen:
"Delete [FFD]?"
Button pressed: 'Yes'
The two numbers of Draco came next. It was a very deliberate action. Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Until again I got the question:
"Delete [Draco]?"
Yes. Yes. Delete Draco. Delete FFD. Get numbers that I will never dial again out of my phone book. I will forget them faster that way. Get names out that I don't want to see or think about. While you're at it, try to wipe my memory for me too. Make things very simple.
I do not use my cell phone all that much, do not carry it around obsessively like some people do. Most of the time it sits on my desk turned off unless I am expecting a call, need to call someone, or am going somewhere off campus. I have not bonded with it and I do not rely on it to operate my life much at all. But I saw this commercial for a cell phone service one time, and the set-up was about some young woman who had just broken up with some guy, and she dutifully deletes his name out of her cell phone to seal the break-up. I thought it kind of ridiculous and cheesy at the time.
But you know, there is certainly a feeling of severing from someone when you don't have a way to contact them anymore. Maybe the chick in the cell phone commercial was on to something.
So on to the real point of this post.
When our conversation ended, I started cycling through the entries in the phone book function on my cell phone, looking at the numbers and the names attached to them, calculating the chances whether or not I would ever dial some of them. Several numbers belong to old friends from high school that agreed we should keep in touch. But they never call. And I never call them. But it's not like we're angry at each other or anything. So I keep the numbers in the cell...just in case. I guess this is what reunions are for.
But I came across some that I did not realize had not been deleted, and probably should have been long ago. One number was the home phone for Future Fashion Designer, whose story in relation to me has already been told. The other two were numbers belonging to Draco (another story already told in multiple parts) -- a home number and a cell phone.
The thing about my cell is that there is no overriding 'delete' button for any entries I put into the phone book. If I want to delete an entry, I have to go back and delete every character out of it by hand. (I don't know if this is the case with all cell phones or not, but it seems to be so with mine.) In either case, I started to delete. FFD's number was first. I punched 'delete' over an over again, erasing her name and the number. When I hit 'done,' a question popped up on the screen:
"Delete [FFD]?"
Button pressed: 'Yes'
The two numbers of Draco came next. It was a very deliberate action. Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Until again I got the question:
"Delete [Draco]?"
Yes. Yes. Delete Draco. Delete FFD. Get numbers that I will never dial again out of my phone book. I will forget them faster that way. Get names out that I don't want to see or think about. While you're at it, try to wipe my memory for me too. Make things very simple.
I do not use my cell phone all that much, do not carry it around obsessively like some people do. Most of the time it sits on my desk turned off unless I am expecting a call, need to call someone, or am going somewhere off campus. I have not bonded with it and I do not rely on it to operate my life much at all. But I saw this commercial for a cell phone service one time, and the set-up was about some young woman who had just broken up with some guy, and she dutifully deletes his name out of her cell phone to seal the break-up. I thought it kind of ridiculous and cheesy at the time.
But you know, there is certainly a feeling of severing from someone when you don't have a way to contact them anymore. Maybe the chick in the cell phone commercial was on to something.
Apparently I hate America
This is what happens when Republican propagandists decide to play on the internet. I didn't know that, just because I don't support George Bush, that I want all Americans to die and/or be placed under some sort of "theological tyranny" from a group of people simply labeled "The Terrorists" -- whoever that's supposed to be.
Go ahead. Try it. See what happens.
Your 'Do You Want the Terrorists to Win' Score: 89%
You are a terrorist-loving, Bush-bashing, "blame America first"-crowd traitor. You are in league with evil-doers who hate our freedoms. By all counts you are a liberal, and as such cleary desire the terrorists to succeed and impose their harsh theocratic restrictions on us all. You are fit to be hung for treason! Luckily George Bush is tapping your internet connection and is now aware of your thought-crime. Have a nice day.... in Guantanamo!
Do You Want the Terrorists to Win?
Quiz Created on GoToQuiz
Go ahead. Try it. See what happens.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
A New Look
So, in the spirit of the fact that I am now "blogging in Beta," I decided to try a new look for the blog as well. I'm not sure if I like it or not. But here it is. I don't know what the whole "Beta" thing is, but it certainly made it much simpler to take a regular Blogger template and trick it out a bit.
Thoughts? Likes? Dislikes? Suggestions?
Now I must get back to work.
Thoughts? Likes? Dislikes? Suggestions?
Now I must get back to work.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Alles in Beta
So, in the past couple of days I have been upgrading some things, such as this blog and my hotmail account. Now everything these days is apparently "in beta" -- whatever the hell that means. It doesn't matter. All I know is that when I updated my hotmail account, life, for the briefest of moments, seemed so much nicer. Suddenly my old email account had a user-friendly interface -- something I've been waiting for only nine years or so now. It is customizable. In a word, it is slick. Checking my email is now, for the time being, a much more pleasant experience.
I had also been getting messages from blogger about updating my blog to be one "in beta." But I had held off, mainly because I can always come up with excuses to avoid doing so. But after seeing what such an upgrade did to my email, I was suddenly much more curious to see what it would do to my blog this morning. So upgrade I did. And I have to say, this is also pretty slick. The archives are user-friendly now. I tried to use html to recode my blog to show the titles of the posts instead of just listing the posts when one clicked on the archives, but I could never make it work. I can also tweak the looks of the blog and bypass all that html crap that for some reason seems infinitely more difficult with this than it was with Livejournal. And the best part of all, I think: instant blogger publishing -- no more of that losing posts because the thing churned and churned and couldn't publish the post crap, either.
What can I say? I'm happy with the new look and changes. Why can't the whole world be upgraded to this beta stuff?
I had also been getting messages from blogger about updating my blog to be one "in beta." But I had held off, mainly because I can always come up with excuses to avoid doing so. But after seeing what such an upgrade did to my email, I was suddenly much more curious to see what it would do to my blog this morning. So upgrade I did. And I have to say, this is also pretty slick. The archives are user-friendly now. I tried to use html to recode my blog to show the titles of the posts instead of just listing the posts when one clicked on the archives, but I could never make it work. I can also tweak the looks of the blog and bypass all that html crap that for some reason seems infinitely more difficult with this than it was with Livejournal. And the best part of all, I think: instant blogger publishing -- no more of that losing posts because the thing churned and churned and couldn't publish the post crap, either.
What can I say? I'm happy with the new look and changes. Why can't the whole world be upgraded to this beta stuff?
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