I think I'm pushing myself to do things for 'the last time' before I leave, and isn't that funny?
"Oh, I wanna eat sushi one more time before Tonga!" "Let's walk the farm one last time!" "Let's get DQ blizzards ONE more time" (which I'm sure will be like...every night. Let's face it, I love a blizzard.)
I'm eating lunch with a friend in 15 minutes, tonight is my last day of church at Hillvue, tomorrow is my last haircut and my last party with my Bowling Green friends/best friends in the world, Friday will be my last day with my brother in law, Friday night will be my last time of seeing Beauty and the Beast (live! woohoo!) AND my last night on campus, Saturday will be my last get-together with the family, and Sunday will be full of packing, stressing, preparing, clothes-scrambling, dancing (it relieves stress for me), and playing the piano for the last time.
UGH. Sentimentality gets on my nerves. I think it strikes a nerve in me where my anatomical alarm system says, "Abort! Abort! Detach! Get away!", yet my human self wants to sit in the middle of my ginormous suitcase in a pile of zip-lop bags and long hippie skirts while singing "Leaving on a Jet Plane" between sobs.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
6 Days Left! Update
I just got back from a wonderful weekend in Louisville and, let me tell you, I've hit the ground running. I tutor tonight, have Bible study tomorrow, church on Wed. (as well as my sis and her family come in), haircut and party on Thursday, Beauty and the Beast the Musical on Friday at WKU (yay!), party on Saturday, church and extreme-packing on Sunday, and I leave from Nashville at 12-something to fly to Dallas and then LA for staging. Holy crazy brain, batman!
A lot of you have asked about postage info and all that jazz. Let me just TELLLLL you the small plan that I know :)
I arrive in Nuku'alofa (the main Tongan island) and stay in a guest house for a few days. Then, we take a 35 minute plane ride (8-10 hours by boat...holy cow!) to Ha'apai, where I will live with a host family until early December. I will receive my PC training in Ha'apai and, if and when I get sworn in on Dec. 15, I will find out where my service actually is...AKA "Name That Island!"
In Nuku'alofa...or maybe it's Ha'apai, we will receive cell phones and I'll buy phone cards to call America. Also, there are internet cafes on both islands, so I'll have email access, etc. However, I won't get a lot of opportunities to do the whole email thing during training because the program is pretty darn intensive, and they encourage us to use most of our down time to hang out with our host family and socialize with others to improve our Tongan speech and relationships with others. That was a huge run-on sentence and I'm too tired to fix it, so sorry.
Also: several of you have said you wanted to send care packages. That is AWESOME and greatly appreciated! I'm sure in a few months I"ll know what i DEFINITELY need, but a lot of it also depends on which island I'm on once I start teaching. I know that feminine products there are either crappy or nonexistent, so any box of tampons/ pads/pantiliners will be welcomed with open arms. Other things like shampoo/condit., razors, soap, American candy, and letters are definitely and warmly accepted.
I should warn that the mail takes 4-6 weeks...the mail service in Tonga seems a big lax, and they also warn not to send anything valuable. If at all possible, send stuff in a padded envelope...boxes tend to be opened and swiped, so...yeah! (Silly Tongans.)
Another word about communication: I hope to start a brand new blog that is only for my PC service. I know it has to be approved once I'm there, and I can't reveal certain information, but I'm hoping that will work. If you have any ideas as to a title, please let me know. Right now, I'm still feeling "LOST: the Tonga Chronicles." It may be a little melo-dramatic, but I'm totally up for suggestions. :)
A lot of you have asked about postage info and all that jazz. Let me just TELLLLL you the small plan that I know :)
I arrive in Nuku'alofa (the main Tongan island) and stay in a guest house for a few days. Then, we take a 35 minute plane ride (8-10 hours by boat...holy cow!) to Ha'apai, where I will live with a host family until early December. I will receive my PC training in Ha'apai and, if and when I get sworn in on Dec. 15, I will find out where my service actually is...AKA "Name That Island!"
In Nuku'alofa...or maybe it's Ha'apai, we will receive cell phones and I'll buy phone cards to call America. Also, there are internet cafes on both islands, so I'll have email access, etc. However, I won't get a lot of opportunities to do the whole email thing during training because the program is pretty darn intensive, and they encourage us to use most of our down time to hang out with our host family and socialize with others to improve our Tongan speech and relationships with others. That was a huge run-on sentence and I'm too tired to fix it, so sorry.
Also: several of you have said you wanted to send care packages. That is AWESOME and greatly appreciated! I'm sure in a few months I"ll know what i DEFINITELY need, but a lot of it also depends on which island I'm on once I start teaching. I know that feminine products there are either crappy or nonexistent, so any box of tampons/ pads/pantiliners will be welcomed with open arms. Other things like shampoo/condit., razors, soap, American candy, and letters are definitely and warmly accepted.
I should warn that the mail takes 4-6 weeks...the mail service in Tonga seems a big lax, and they also warn not to send anything valuable. If at all possible, send stuff in a padded envelope...boxes tend to be opened and swiped, so...yeah! (Silly Tongans.)
Another word about communication: I hope to start a brand new blog that is only for my PC service. I know it has to be approved once I'm there, and I can't reveal certain information, but I'm hoping that will work. If you have any ideas as to a title, please let me know. Right now, I'm still feeling "LOST: the Tonga Chronicles." It may be a little melo-dramatic, but I'm totally up for suggestions. :)
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
I Am Jamie, Dragon-Fighter of the High School World
Last night I had my third dream of fighting a dragon. The dragon is the same one from Sleeping Beauty, so I guess I was the female Prince Phillip. The other two times, I had this awesome sword--a really long one, one only a super strong heroine could handle--so upon my entry in my high school's gym, AKA Dragon Lair, I immediately poked out both its eyes and as it thrashed around, I cut off its head. Bam. Done. Heroine, woot woot!
Not this time. This time I kept running through the hallway where all my math and science classes were, watching the brave souls go in and out of the gym. As far as I know, no one was hurt/killed, but I do remember dressing up in this weird costume and watching two random people from high school dress as Hansel and Gretl in the wing bathroom.
Then someone gave me a dagger. He said, "Here's your dagger, Jamie. You must poke out both its eyes" (which I remembered,) "and then cut off its head."
Woah, turbo: problem here. First of all, I weighed the dagger according to my human calculations as the blade broke off its plastic handle. I snapped it back together thinking, "Okay, not my uber-awesome sword, hmmmm."
Basically, I spent the rest of the time in the bathroom, watching Hansel and Gretl discuss their distraction plan, then I would go in the double doors of the gym and just wait in the lobby, watching the dragon throw a security card across the gym and out the window. Oh yeah, there was one fatality, I assume.
Then, before I knew it, the principal came in, called for lunch break, and the dragon was tamed while all the students went into the gym/cameleon cafeteria to eat hoagies and such. I kept snapping my dagger on and off its handle, thinking there was no way to poke out the dragon's eyes with something the length of my forearm. And plastic.
Not this time. This time I kept running through the hallway where all my math and science classes were, watching the brave souls go in and out of the gym. As far as I know, no one was hurt/killed, but I do remember dressing up in this weird costume and watching two random people from high school dress as Hansel and Gretl in the wing bathroom.
Then someone gave me a dagger. He said, "Here's your dagger, Jamie. You must poke out both its eyes" (which I remembered,) "and then cut off its head."
Woah, turbo: problem here. First of all, I weighed the dagger according to my human calculations as the blade broke off its plastic handle. I snapped it back together thinking, "Okay, not my uber-awesome sword, hmmmm."
Basically, I spent the rest of the time in the bathroom, watching Hansel and Gretl discuss their distraction plan, then I would go in the double doors of the gym and just wait in the lobby, watching the dragon throw a security card across the gym and out the window. Oh yeah, there was one fatality, I assume.
Then, before I knew it, the principal came in, called for lunch break, and the dragon was tamed while all the students went into the gym/cameleon cafeteria to eat hoagies and such. I kept snapping my dagger on and off its handle, thinking there was no way to poke out the dragon's eyes with something the length of my forearm. And plastic.
Monday, September 20, 2010
The Single Lady's Blues
(an excerpt from "The Happy Blues", an unfinished/un-started work of Jamie Ogles.)
Would you be a doll? Would you do me a
small
favor, see, I don't want
your flavor,
I want your arm,
see? The shoulder and elbow, no harm
done unless your fingers go numb with the weight of my head
on your bicep, the dreaded
tingle that bites around the nerves;
the single favor I ask won't hurt--
I'm an unskilled tease and a dreadful flirt,
and I want no funny business, mister;
I want the shoe without the blister,
the cake without a fork,
the wine with an inpenetrable cork--wait,
no, I like wine.
Nevermind
then, I'll just take
the arm for sanity's sake,
where I'll sleep and dream of shoes and cake
and wine while you
choose how to intertwine your fingers in mine,
and please,
take your time.
Would you be a doll? Would you do me a
small
favor, see, I don't want
your flavor,
I want your arm,
see? The shoulder and elbow, no harm
done unless your fingers go numb with the weight of my head
on your bicep, the dreaded
tingle that bites around the nerves;
the single favor I ask won't hurt--
I'm an unskilled tease and a dreadful flirt,
and I want no funny business, mister;
I want the shoe without the blister,
the cake without a fork,
the wine with an inpenetrable cork--wait,
no, I like wine.
Nevermind
then, I'll just take
the arm for sanity's sake,
where I'll sleep and dream of shoes and cake
and wine while you
choose how to intertwine your fingers in mine,
and please,
take your time.
Conrad, Shakespeare, and Poetry-Reciting Sex
I finally finished Heart of Darkness today. It was my nemesis in AP English my senior year of high school, and when I read the last word (darkness, of course,) I felt a burning, putrid passion of I-hate-Joseph-Conrad-ism, combined with an overwhelming relief of "Oh thank the LORD I can finally read something else now!" Of course, that "something else" became Jane Austen. And hopefully by now, you know that Jane Austen is my girl crush of the 19th century. Her writing is boring and it is formulaic but it is awesome! I love her characters. I swear Mr. Darcy lives in a tiny little tube thingy of my heart. He does. It's probably why I'm still single.
Anyway, that's neither here nor there. I'm writing about Heart of Darkness because my literature-loving nerd-self now likes this book. I can't say I love it. But I like it. I respect it. I understand (in a sense,) its essence. Yeah. Anyway.
My favorite part is when Marlowe says,
"You know I hate, detest, and can't bear a lie, not because I am straighter than the rest of us, but simply because it appalls me. There is a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies--which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world--what I want to forget."
Ohhh, it is so beautiful! I mean we're taught that lying is bad. It is sin, it is dirty, it is detestable to God. It is natural to we humans because we are dirty and detestable, and let's face it, sinning is what we do best.
But for a human to hate lies. That's pretty awesome. He hates it because it APPALLS him--the TAINT of death, "the flavour of mortality in lies" (that's my favorite part...oh, the language!)
I watched Shakespeare In Love today. I hadn't seen it in forever and I love Gwyneth Paltrow, and I forgot how GOOD Joseph Fiennes was. And his brother Ralph, who I totally have a crush on after The English Patient. But anyway, so the writers of this movie did such a creative job in mirroring the life/written works of Shakespeare to the life of the author and his new lover, Viola.
They meet when she, a total lover of Shakespeare's works, disguises herself as a man to try out for one of his plays. (Men were only allowed to act...no women. Ugh patriarchies.) So she ends up being pretty much the best, so she gets the part of Romeo, then he discovers she's this dreamy beautiful woman, they get hot and steamy while simultaneously reciting the lines from Romeo and Juliet to each other. (It totally beats Nora Roberts' sex scenes. For real.)
Of course, she has to marry this terrible a-hole (Colin Firth...ahhh, love,) and by the end she is discovered as a woman, but Queen Elizabeth totally defends and lies for her, but Viola still has to leave for America with yucky Wessex. However, because of this experience, Shakespeare writes Twelfth Night, one of my favorite comedies.
To make a long story long, the lying passage from Heart of Darkness just reminds me of this love triangle thing from Shakespeare in Love. The love between William and Viola is true, but the pretense is all false... they can't marry, they can't defy the whole social network, lalala. Lies are mortal because they eventually fizzle out, they have an end, they fester until they ooze out, leaving nothing but a scab behind.
But if you've ever read Shakespeare's sonnets (My Mistress' Eyes, for example), the lies of men bring out the truth in other men.
Maybe I'm getting all "love is truth, truth is beauty, beauty is freedom" and whatnot, which totally makes me want to watch Moulin Rouge again, but I guess this is what happens when I read literature and ponder over it for a couple of weeks.
And I'm considering taking a book of Shakespearean comedies with me to Tonga. Hmm...
Anyway, that's neither here nor there. I'm writing about Heart of Darkness because my literature-loving nerd-self now likes this book. I can't say I love it. But I like it. I respect it. I understand (in a sense,) its essence. Yeah. Anyway.
My favorite part is when Marlowe says,
"You know I hate, detest, and can't bear a lie, not because I am straighter than the rest of us, but simply because it appalls me. There is a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies--which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world--what I want to forget."
Ohhh, it is so beautiful! I mean we're taught that lying is bad. It is sin, it is dirty, it is detestable to God. It is natural to we humans because we are dirty and detestable, and let's face it, sinning is what we do best.
But for a human to hate lies. That's pretty awesome. He hates it because it APPALLS him--the TAINT of death, "the flavour of mortality in lies" (that's my favorite part...oh, the language!)
I watched Shakespeare In Love today. I hadn't seen it in forever and I love Gwyneth Paltrow, and I forgot how GOOD Joseph Fiennes was. And his brother Ralph, who I totally have a crush on after The English Patient. But anyway, so the writers of this movie did such a creative job in mirroring the life/written works of Shakespeare to the life of the author and his new lover, Viola.
They meet when she, a total lover of Shakespeare's works, disguises herself as a man to try out for one of his plays. (Men were only allowed to act...no women. Ugh patriarchies.) So she ends up being pretty much the best, so she gets the part of Romeo, then he discovers she's this dreamy beautiful woman, they get hot and steamy while simultaneously reciting the lines from Romeo and Juliet to each other. (It totally beats Nora Roberts' sex scenes. For real.)
Of course, she has to marry this terrible a-hole (Colin Firth...ahhh, love,) and by the end she is discovered as a woman, but Queen Elizabeth totally defends and lies for her, but Viola still has to leave for America with yucky Wessex. However, because of this experience, Shakespeare writes Twelfth Night, one of my favorite comedies.
To make a long story long, the lying passage from Heart of Darkness just reminds me of this love triangle thing from Shakespeare in Love. The love between William and Viola is true, but the pretense is all false... they can't marry, they can't defy the whole social network, lalala. Lies are mortal because they eventually fizzle out, they have an end, they fester until they ooze out, leaving nothing but a scab behind.
But if you've ever read Shakespeare's sonnets (My Mistress' Eyes, for example), the lies of men bring out the truth in other men.
Maybe I'm getting all "love is truth, truth is beauty, beauty is freedom" and whatnot, which totally makes me want to watch Moulin Rouge again, but I guess this is what happens when I read literature and ponder over it for a couple of weeks.
And I'm considering taking a book of Shakespearean comedies with me to Tonga. Hmm...
Sunday, September 19, 2010
i'm too tired to say something metaphorical
bedtime- 12:30/1-ish am
wake-up time- 5:55 am
singy choir time- 7:15 am
breakfast time- 8-something
singy choir time over- 11:30
friend time- 12:45
hikey time- 2-something
homey time- 6
supper time- 6:01
movie time- 7-present
bedtime- now? (8:45 ish)
leavey time- 14 days
wake-up time- 5:55 am
singy choir time- 7:15 am
breakfast time- 8-something
singy choir time over- 11:30
friend time- 12:45
hikey time- 2-something
homey time- 6
supper time- 6:01
movie time- 7-present
bedtime- now? (8:45 ish)
leavey time- 14 days
Friday, September 17, 2010
Woohoo! I love good days!
I look totally awesome right now. I just cleaned my car--literally--for 2+ hours straight. I vaccumed it, cleaned/polished the inside, (even INSIDE the doors...like the gross greasy parts,) and finally washed the outside. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it was.
I broke a major sweat and I even have grease swipes on my arm. It makes me feel sexy, you know. Reor.
Then the mail lady drove up to hand me the mail, asking me about my life in a nutshell right now. Her daughter just got back from China and is about to head to England, so I decided she was probably open-minded enough to accept my Peace Corps life with enthusiasm. She was absolutely kind, and said to have an extra eye, because no matter how good of deeds we try to do, people are always eyeing Americans. So she asked me to be careful and then said "God will be with you, sweetie!" She was nice. I love meeting kind strangers. It makes me happy.
I also had a good time with my grandma today. I've been doing a lot of stuff around the house for her--I mean she's 90...holy cow--and so she pays me just to do little odd jobs. Then we ate lunch together and she asked a lot of questions about Tonga and what I'd do, etc. Then she said something really funny--she and my mom both do it ALL the time. Like when a bad word is appropriate, they both say "sht" like that or "sssst" and it's kind of a fill-in minus the vowel. It's hilarious. So I told her a story about when Mom said shit when she and Dad were having a playful argument-- seriously, it was hilarious--and Mema laughed so hard she was wiping tears.
It was nice--I like when Mema laughs and tells stories. It's fun. It's always been hard to bond with her because she's always been so much older; plus she always tried to talk me out of playing ball and talk me into taking piano lessons even after I quit. But now she's become a lot more accepting of me. Or maybe I've become more accepting of her.
As of now, the countdown is 17 days. Isn't that crazy? I don't feel crunched for time or uber stressed. Maybe my subconscious does because my face is breaking out again and my fingernails are bloody and down to the nubs. Oh well. I'm happy.
I broke a major sweat and I even have grease swipes on my arm. It makes me feel sexy, you know. Reor.
Then the mail lady drove up to hand me the mail, asking me about my life in a nutshell right now. Her daughter just got back from China and is about to head to England, so I decided she was probably open-minded enough to accept my Peace Corps life with enthusiasm. She was absolutely kind, and said to have an extra eye, because no matter how good of deeds we try to do, people are always eyeing Americans. So she asked me to be careful and then said "God will be with you, sweetie!" She was nice. I love meeting kind strangers. It makes me happy.
I also had a good time with my grandma today. I've been doing a lot of stuff around the house for her--I mean she's 90...holy cow--and so she pays me just to do little odd jobs. Then we ate lunch together and she asked a lot of questions about Tonga and what I'd do, etc. Then she said something really funny--she and my mom both do it ALL the time. Like when a bad word is appropriate, they both say "sht" like that or "sssst" and it's kind of a fill-in minus the vowel. It's hilarious. So I told her a story about when Mom said shit when she and Dad were having a playful argument-- seriously, it was hilarious--and Mema laughed so hard she was wiping tears.
It was nice--I like when Mema laughs and tells stories. It's fun. It's always been hard to bond with her because she's always been so much older; plus she always tried to talk me out of playing ball and talk me into taking piano lessons even after I quit. But now she's become a lot more accepting of me. Or maybe I've become more accepting of her.
As of now, the countdown is 17 days. Isn't that crazy? I don't feel crunched for time or uber stressed. Maybe my subconscious does because my face is breaking out again and my fingernails are bloody and down to the nubs. Oh well. I'm happy.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I Know What I Am
I think I'm still recovering from my America's Next Top Model Marathon because after I took a bath tonight, I totally ripped out most of my closet and tried it on. I was trying to coordinate outfits for different things...for choir on Sunday, for my going-away party (#1, 2, and 3), etc.
I was feeling creative tonight, and when I feel creative with clothes, and I kind of do strange things, but I like strange, so it's okay. I started with normal dresses (2 of which I am now getting rid of, because I've worn them once or twice. I hate when I do that), then tried some dress-jean combinations, some dress-tights combinations, la la la. Then I kept eyeing my long skirts--ones I purposely bought to take to Tonga, and decided to take my long green skirt, pull it up above the girls, and cinch a brown chunky belt around my waist and let me just say...I'm good. I mean the fabric is a bit flimsy so I may need double sided tape or something...(keep the girls tucked in, you know,) but it totally looked cute. Then I tried it with a couple other skirts and realized I've been wasting my time buying dresses.
Maybe my faux-dress will make an appearance. I hope I'm feeling ballsy enough that day.
Now I'm exhausted from the extensive self-fashion show, and I'm rambling at this point, but I've always dogged my brother Travis about how much he plays video games. We call him "Thumbs" now. I just hate video games. They make my eyes hurt and I'd much rather be reading a book.
HOWEVER, Trav turned on his PS3 a minute ago and the background music was "I Know What I Am" by the Band of Skulls (who are spectacular, by the way...I think they're like a modern day Jefferson Airplane.) Anyway, so I started grooving and what not, so I decided to look up the lyrics.
This is totally gonna be my catwalk song.
High ho,
Triple sow cow,
I got a feeling like I'm tired of the flow
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Gasoline
Saccharin,
I got no reason for the state I'm in,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Hotel,
Taco Bell,
I got the hit that you know damn well,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Cut, tease,
Better believe,
I got the feeling that I'm underneath,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
But it's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay.
Flick flack,
No slack,
I got the wit that my enemies lack,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Trick some,
Just begun,
Giving you more when you only want one,
Cause I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Hot sweat,
Got debt,
Keep your licker in the locker cause you don't know yet,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Ship shape,
Ticker tape,
Looks to me like a narrow escape,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
But it's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay.
I was feeling creative tonight, and when I feel creative with clothes, and I kind of do strange things, but I like strange, so it's okay. I started with normal dresses (2 of which I am now getting rid of, because I've worn them once or twice. I hate when I do that), then tried some dress-jean combinations, some dress-tights combinations, la la la. Then I kept eyeing my long skirts--ones I purposely bought to take to Tonga, and decided to take my long green skirt, pull it up above the girls, and cinch a brown chunky belt around my waist and let me just say...I'm good. I mean the fabric is a bit flimsy so I may need double sided tape or something...(keep the girls tucked in, you know,) but it totally looked cute. Then I tried it with a couple other skirts and realized I've been wasting my time buying dresses.
Maybe my faux-dress will make an appearance. I hope I'm feeling ballsy enough that day.
Now I'm exhausted from the extensive self-fashion show, and I'm rambling at this point, but I've always dogged my brother Travis about how much he plays video games. We call him "Thumbs" now. I just hate video games. They make my eyes hurt and I'd much rather be reading a book.
HOWEVER, Trav turned on his PS3 a minute ago and the background music was "I Know What I Am" by the Band of Skulls (who are spectacular, by the way...I think they're like a modern day Jefferson Airplane.) Anyway, so I started grooving and what not, so I decided to look up the lyrics.
This is totally gonna be my catwalk song.
High ho,
Triple sow cow,
I got a feeling like I'm tired of the flow
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Gasoline
Saccharin,
I got no reason for the state I'm in,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Hotel,
Taco Bell,
I got the hit that you know damn well,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Cut, tease,
Better believe,
I got the feeling that I'm underneath,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
But it's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay.
Flick flack,
No slack,
I got the wit that my enemies lack,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Trick some,
Just begun,
Giving you more when you only want one,
Cause I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Hot sweat,
Got debt,
Keep your licker in the locker cause you don't know yet,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
Ship shape,
Ticker tape,
Looks to me like a narrow escape,
But I know what I am,
They know what they are
So let me be
But it's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay,
I got the time,
But the time don't pay
It's alright,
It's okay.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
So I was watching America's Next Top Model...
I couldn't help it. It was an all-day marathon of a cyclce I hadn't seen yet. Cycle 12 or something. Geez, I can't believe there have been that many. ANYway, I've pretty much always resisted the MTV/VH1 vices that a lot of teens and young adults have like a sickly tumor, but ANTM is my shiz. I love that show because it's artsy and it deals with girls of different ethnicities with different looks and okay, maybe mostly are all skinny, BUT in this cycle there were girls who actually looked normal, which was cool. I mean they were kicked off by halfway through, but I felt content as I polished off a box of those mint chocolate cookies--the kind that are like the Girl Scout Grasshopper cookies. THOSE. I seriously ate like a bunch.
ANYWAY. So I'm watching this marathon thing for 3-4 hours when I finally decide I should work out while doing it (thank goodness Mom and Dad bought an elliptical to put in the basement...that sits in front of a tv), so I shocked my cardio system while watching these girls wear crazy things like poofy hair pieces and feathers on their faces and such.
Then I started thinking about how much I LOVED all the girls with short hair. It was like I was drawn to them. I am drawn to girls with short hair for some reason. To me, it's such a statement. Like BAM. I don't have to have long flowy locks--I can rock a boyish haircut--bam!
I totally want to chop all my hair now. Fo real. I'm amazed I've lasted 2 years without cutting it (other than a mere trim, which I'm in dire need of as we speak), but I just LOVE short hair. Mine is looking so boring lately.
Maybe I'll just eat another roll of cookies.
ANYWAY. So I'm watching this marathon thing for 3-4 hours when I finally decide I should work out while doing it (thank goodness Mom and Dad bought an elliptical to put in the basement...that sits in front of a tv), so I shocked my cardio system while watching these girls wear crazy things like poofy hair pieces and feathers on their faces and such.
Then I started thinking about how much I LOVED all the girls with short hair. It was like I was drawn to them. I am drawn to girls with short hair for some reason. To me, it's such a statement. Like BAM. I don't have to have long flowy locks--I can rock a boyish haircut--bam!
I totally want to chop all my hair now. Fo real. I'm amazed I've lasted 2 years without cutting it (other than a mere trim, which I'm in dire need of as we speak), but I just LOVE short hair. Mine is looking so boring lately.
Maybe I'll just eat another roll of cookies.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Trippin' in a Grocery Store
I was so productive today...after I got out of bed at 10:30. Don't judge me. My sleeping is way off right now. And I had strange dreams that involved a fastpitch softball tournament in Tonga, being lost on an island for 5 weeks, and the emergence of my parents ON the island as they screamed about how financially irresponsible I was. Suddenly, as they were yelling, I was 12 again in my old bedroom with the blue and yellow wallpaper. Weird.
Anyway, I woke up with a monsoon headache, drank some juice, and drove to down with what LOOKED like sex hair (I was way too tired to fix it,) a splotchy red face, and a list of errands to run. I found out yesterday that all volunteers had to get the H1N1 vaccine before we leave for LA, so I called the Health Dpt. who won't get the vaccines until October. Then I called the Primary Care Clinic, who thank goodness has them. So I waited in the office, got my vaccine, had to get an updated copy of my immunization record, dropped off a movie for my brother, deposited a check, got my glasses tightened, and ran into the IGA to pick up some 'essentials' for my adventure that now starts in 20 days. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, deodorant, toothpaste, razors, tampons, pads, lalala.
So I check out at the counter and the lady says, "Looks like you're goin on a trip!" and I said, "Well, yeah, actually I am." She looked happy that she guessed it right. After I paid (and could've kicked myself for not going to the Dollar Store, which could've saved me 5 or 10 bucks,) the lady said "Have a good trip", but I thought she was gonna say "Have a good day" so I automatically said, "You too!"
Then we both stopped and I said, "Well, I mean, have a good day."
She says, "Oh well it don't matter, honey, I'm always on a trip!"
It was definitely funny. A bit strange.
Even stranger, when I walked INto the grocery store, one of the cashiers walked outside for a smoke. I don't know who she is--probably a woman of mid-50s or older-- and her eyes got real wide and said, "Wull HEY! How're YOuuuuuu?" I said, "Um, I'm good! How are you?" Then she got a real crazy look in her eye--they got so big where I couldn't see her lids--and she said, "Wull, I'll be doin MUCH better after I have a SMOKE!" cackle cackle cackle.
I think I need to get outta here, guys.
Anyway, I woke up with a monsoon headache, drank some juice, and drove to down with what LOOKED like sex hair (I was way too tired to fix it,) a splotchy red face, and a list of errands to run. I found out yesterday that all volunteers had to get the H1N1 vaccine before we leave for LA, so I called the Health Dpt. who won't get the vaccines until October. Then I called the Primary Care Clinic, who thank goodness has them. So I waited in the office, got my vaccine, had to get an updated copy of my immunization record, dropped off a movie for my brother, deposited a check, got my glasses tightened, and ran into the IGA to pick up some 'essentials' for my adventure that now starts in 20 days. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, deodorant, toothpaste, razors, tampons, pads, lalala.
So I check out at the counter and the lady says, "Looks like you're goin on a trip!" and I said, "Well, yeah, actually I am." She looked happy that she guessed it right. After I paid (and could've kicked myself for not going to the Dollar Store, which could've saved me 5 or 10 bucks,) the lady said "Have a good trip", but I thought she was gonna say "Have a good day" so I automatically said, "You too!"
Then we both stopped and I said, "Well, I mean, have a good day."
She says, "Oh well it don't matter, honey, I'm always on a trip!"
It was definitely funny. A bit strange.
Even stranger, when I walked INto the grocery store, one of the cashiers walked outside for a smoke. I don't know who she is--probably a woman of mid-50s or older-- and her eyes got real wide and said, "Wull HEY! How're YOuuuuuu?" I said, "Um, I'm good! How are you?" Then she got a real crazy look in her eye--they got so big where I couldn't see her lids--and she said, "Wull, I'll be doin MUCH better after I have a SMOKE!" cackle cackle cackle.
I think I need to get outta here, guys.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Growing Up Beside You
I've just been singing this all day. Don't know why. It's by Paolo Nutini. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside :) AND it makes me want to speak in a Scottish accent.
Sitting beside you in school,
While we'd paint I'd make you laugh.
Mine was never very good,
Yours looked exactly like the photograph.
Looks like I'm growing, I'm growing up beside you.
I don't always get the way you feel,
But now I've learned to live with that.
It's like I'm a part of something real.
I was hittin' the bottle, now I've broken the seal.
Looks like I'm growing, I'm growing up beside you
And the sun sets the scene,
While the rain misses me.
And all the time I'll be growing, growing up beside you.
Oh, The sun sets the scene,
While the rain misses me.
And all the time I'll be growing, growing up beside you.
Sitting beside you in school,
While we'd paint I'd make you laugh.
Mine was never very good,
Yours looked exactly like the photograph.
Looks like I'm growing, I'm growing up beside you.
I don't always get the way you feel,
But now I've learned to live with that.
It's like I'm a part of something real.
I was hittin' the bottle, now I've broken the seal.
Looks like I'm growing, I'm growing up beside you
And the sun sets the scene,
While the rain misses me.
And all the time I'll be growing, growing up beside you.
Oh, The sun sets the scene,
While the rain misses me.
And all the time I'll be growing, growing up beside you.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Possibility
Second post today. I know...psycho, right? I guess I'm just blogging as much as possibe before I'm an island-dweller for the rest of my early twenties.
Holy crap. I'll be almost 25...
Okay, I won't think about it. Anyway. Moving on.
It's been a really weird day for a number of reasons. It's ended well. But it's had a lot of loopty-loops and I hate loopty-loops. I get way too nauseous and I have too many headaches.
I just feel like my head is screaming. I mean I've had a headache all day, but I've got that swimmy racing-thoughts feeling and it has a lot to do with that whole fear thing. To be honest, I want this whole fear thing to be good; so I'm making myself vulnerable to God, lalala, but now I feel like Satan could possibly use it, too, and it's driving me fuh-lippin crazy. I think I need a tranquilizer.
I mean today, I was driving home, and I just started saying, "Satan, get away from me. Go back to hell, I don't want you here." And I just kept saying it over and over until I felt like stopping. It was weird.
I was praying on the way home, too, mainly because I knew my dad and I were due for a really intense talk. I needed to apologize and I did, and he took it okay for a little while. Then it got tense, then it got shitty, then I started crying, then I almost left to sulk and cry in my room, and Dad said, "No no, don't leave--this is exactly why we haven't worked things out." So I stayed. I mean a lot of the reason I always leave is because fighting with them takes a toll on me. Big time. I mean 2 years of fighting is a lot to me. I'm normally a happy, conflict-free being when it comes to relationships. Not so much at home.
BUT the conversation turned out well. We got deeper than we've gotten and he hugged me at the end. It was nice. I opened up with him about Mom and my constant back-and-forth-ness with her, and I talked to him about spiritual things and such. I didn't get to the bone of things, but now I think the possibility is there.
I still feel weepy, though. I think it's PMS.
Anyway, so you KNOW a music reference is coming here, right? (Gosh, I'll miss some music. Thank goodness I can take my mp3.)
So Lykke Li is an artist I'd always wished I'd looked farther into. Buy an album, la-de-da. But she has a song called "Possibility." It is haunting and chilling and amazing. There's this bridge. It's awesome.
So tell me when you hear my heart stop,
You’re the only who knows
Tell me when you hear my silence
There’s a possibility
I wouldn’t know
Tell me when my sigh is over
You’re the reason why I’m close
Tell me if you hear me falling
There's a possibility
It wouldn’t show
I guess I'm in a very contemplative mood...big surprise. But I just feel so much of this. Sometimes, I'm not aware of my silence. Sometimes, my fall seems much more discreet than obvious. Just the whole "there's a possibiity thing." There are a lot of possibilities right now. In the world, in our country, in my life, in your life, in my family, in Tonga.
My head screams with possibilities, with hurt, with goals and sorrows and sucky memories and friends I'll miss. It screams with things I want to write, things I want to read, languages I want to learn, people I want to meet, baggage I want to get rid of, words I want to forget, words I want to hold onto.
Holy crap. I'll be almost 25...
Okay, I won't think about it. Anyway. Moving on.
It's been a really weird day for a number of reasons. It's ended well. But it's had a lot of loopty-loops and I hate loopty-loops. I get way too nauseous and I have too many headaches.
I just feel like my head is screaming. I mean I've had a headache all day, but I've got that swimmy racing-thoughts feeling and it has a lot to do with that whole fear thing. To be honest, I want this whole fear thing to be good; so I'm making myself vulnerable to God, lalala, but now I feel like Satan could possibly use it, too, and it's driving me fuh-lippin crazy. I think I need a tranquilizer.
I mean today, I was driving home, and I just started saying, "Satan, get away from me. Go back to hell, I don't want you here." And I just kept saying it over and over until I felt like stopping. It was weird.
I was praying on the way home, too, mainly because I knew my dad and I were due for a really intense talk. I needed to apologize and I did, and he took it okay for a little while. Then it got tense, then it got shitty, then I started crying, then I almost left to sulk and cry in my room, and Dad said, "No no, don't leave--this is exactly why we haven't worked things out." So I stayed. I mean a lot of the reason I always leave is because fighting with them takes a toll on me. Big time. I mean 2 years of fighting is a lot to me. I'm normally a happy, conflict-free being when it comes to relationships. Not so much at home.
BUT the conversation turned out well. We got deeper than we've gotten and he hugged me at the end. It was nice. I opened up with him about Mom and my constant back-and-forth-ness with her, and I talked to him about spiritual things and such. I didn't get to the bone of things, but now I think the possibility is there.
I still feel weepy, though. I think it's PMS.
Anyway, so you KNOW a music reference is coming here, right? (Gosh, I'll miss some music. Thank goodness I can take my mp3.)
So Lykke Li is an artist I'd always wished I'd looked farther into. Buy an album, la-de-da. But she has a song called "Possibility." It is haunting and chilling and amazing. There's this bridge. It's awesome.
So tell me when you hear my heart stop,
You’re the only who knows
Tell me when you hear my silence
There’s a possibility
I wouldn’t know
Tell me when my sigh is over
You’re the reason why I’m close
Tell me if you hear me falling
There's a possibility
It wouldn’t show
I guess I'm in a very contemplative mood...big surprise. But I just feel so much of this. Sometimes, I'm not aware of my silence. Sometimes, my fall seems much more discreet than obvious. Just the whole "there's a possibiity thing." There are a lot of possibilities right now. In the world, in our country, in my life, in your life, in my family, in Tonga.
My head screams with possibilities, with hurt, with goals and sorrows and sucky memories and friends I'll miss. It screams with things I want to write, things I want to read, languages I want to learn, people I want to meet, baggage I want to get rid of, words I want to forget, words I want to hold onto.
Change of plans, kind of
For a week or so I have been internally FLIPPING OUT. Mainly because I leave in under a month, but I had also not heard from the PC as to which domestic city I would visit for orientation, which is called "Staging" in PC lingo. I mailed my PC Passport application (kind of like a visa) the day after I got my invitation, but I read that if we filled it out wrong, we were pretty much out of luck. They had the rights to ask someone else to go in my place, and I may not hear if I filled it out wrong.
Yikes. Nonetheless, I was freaking out.
It's been a weird couple of days, and last night at Bible study we talked about a lot of God stuff, but we ended with a Basic video (Francis Chan in all his brilliance) that totally focused on fear. Fear has been my roadblock in my faith because I don't fear God a lot. Not that I don't want to, but I just don't fear a whole lot. Being afraid means I'm vulnerable and I feel all weak inside, and any relationship that I've ever had based on fear has been a crappy one, so... I mean why shoud I fear this Almighty God who loves me and who has done so much? It just seems weird.
I don't like being afraid. I don't watch scary movies (without completely covering my face with a blanket,) and I hang out with people I trust. Fear is just not a part of me very often. Except for when pigeons are around. Or if I have to play the piano in front of a lot of people.
So I've been diving into discomfort. Finding my fears, dealing with them, asking God to place a fear in me FOR him...because I need to fear him.
Here are some fears I have:
--Being comfortable for too long
--Losing my nieces
--Well, actually, losing my family
--Suicide (it's such a mystery and it terrifies me)
--Romantic relationship (didn't realize it until recently)
--Having kids
--Finding a person. Like that 'one person' person.
--Pigeons
--Labels
--America
--Cooking Bacon
--Being dismissed from the Peace Corps if they think I'm not up to par
So I prayed over some of this stuff and this afternoon I realized that this whole PC thing is totally in God's hands. SO I asked for peace for it.
I got up, peed, and went to the computer to check my email.
And there it was. My directions for Staging. So I leave for LA on Oct. 4th, then on Oct. 5, I leave for Tonga.
Jesus is awesome :)
Yikes. Nonetheless, I was freaking out.
It's been a weird couple of days, and last night at Bible study we talked about a lot of God stuff, but we ended with a Basic video (Francis Chan in all his brilliance) that totally focused on fear. Fear has been my roadblock in my faith because I don't fear God a lot. Not that I don't want to, but I just don't fear a whole lot. Being afraid means I'm vulnerable and I feel all weak inside, and any relationship that I've ever had based on fear has been a crappy one, so... I mean why shoud I fear this Almighty God who loves me and who has done so much? It just seems weird.
I don't like being afraid. I don't watch scary movies (without completely covering my face with a blanket,) and I hang out with people I trust. Fear is just not a part of me very often. Except for when pigeons are around. Or if I have to play the piano in front of a lot of people.
So I've been diving into discomfort. Finding my fears, dealing with them, asking God to place a fear in me FOR him...because I need to fear him.
Here are some fears I have:
--Being comfortable for too long
--Losing my nieces
--Well, actually, losing my family
--Suicide (it's such a mystery and it terrifies me)
--Romantic relationship (didn't realize it until recently)
--Having kids
--Finding a person. Like that 'one person' person.
--Pigeons
--Labels
--America
--Cooking Bacon
--Being dismissed from the Peace Corps if they think I'm not up to par
So I prayed over some of this stuff and this afternoon I realized that this whole PC thing is totally in God's hands. SO I asked for peace for it.
I got up, peed, and went to the computer to check my email.
And there it was. My directions for Staging. So I leave for LA on Oct. 4th, then on Oct. 5, I leave for Tonga.
Jesus is awesome :)
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Umm...
I'm reading Heart of Darkness on a Tuesday afternoon while listening to Florence and the Machine before Bible study.
What the hell?
What the hell?
Monday, September 6, 2010
Dark
A girl killed herself about 3 days ago and it's bothering me. I don't even know her name. She was my age. 22.
It makes me do a lot of psychological pondering when I consider motives and emptiness. How can someone want to give up after just 22 years of life? It's hard to imagine and hard to think about a beautiful girl blow past consideration, beneath the realms of depression, and make herself stop living.
I've known people who have done this, heard about people, actually KNOWN people. This girl...I don't know her. I've never seen or met her. I don't know her favorite color or her preferred ice cream flavor. I don't know the color of her eyes or her favorite pet.
A few months ago, I heavily considered giving up my faith. God didn't seem real to me. I questioned everything and logic seemed much more possible to believe rather than spirituality. But I remembered that I love spirituality. It keeps me sane. God keeps me sane. (Check out Charlie Hall's "Mystery.") I couldn't just deal with my thoughts and random actions all the time. I've read a lot of books about faith and spirituality and it's been good for me. I don't just love Jesus, I love God. And I accept that I don't understand him all the time...because let's face it, he's not just a 2-dimensional box we can rely on for spiritual supplies like that whole 'armor of God' metaphor and other practical things like hammers and nails and such.
God isn't a tool box.
So anyway, I had a good cry last night and talked to God about my loneliness and how I never wanted my loneliness to be a bad thing. A thing so consuming that the only way out is a relief that ends things.
This entry is probably getting weird already, but I keep singing Damien Rice in my head. I mean let's face it, if I were to go for the drinking Irish type, he would be my musical soul mate.
He has a lyric from "Accidental Babies" that says, "Is he dark enough/enough to see your light?"
How beautiful is that? I've always wanted my future man friend/husband to have that--that quality that wants to fully know my darkness to see the light I guess I can bring. But then I keep thinking that it's God. God IS light, but he's dark enough to see mine--I mean shoot, he placed it in me! He plunged through all that dark junk and cleaned it--beyond shininess. He's not a tool box OR a tool man that just spit-shines something until it looks presentable. He put a little glow in there.
I guess that I don't want to feel like I've lost that glow. I imagine it like a little burning ember--maybe on the edges of a beautiful, rising fire. Sorry for the predictable Christian metaphors, but I'll take my place there where it's a bit darker. I feel comfortable in darkness a lot. But I always want to feel like God penetrates that darkness. I never want to feel empty enough to end things.
It makes me do a lot of psychological pondering when I consider motives and emptiness. How can someone want to give up after just 22 years of life? It's hard to imagine and hard to think about a beautiful girl blow past consideration, beneath the realms of depression, and make herself stop living.
I've known people who have done this, heard about people, actually KNOWN people. This girl...I don't know her. I've never seen or met her. I don't know her favorite color or her preferred ice cream flavor. I don't know the color of her eyes or her favorite pet.
A few months ago, I heavily considered giving up my faith. God didn't seem real to me. I questioned everything and logic seemed much more possible to believe rather than spirituality. But I remembered that I love spirituality. It keeps me sane. God keeps me sane. (Check out Charlie Hall's "Mystery.") I couldn't just deal with my thoughts and random actions all the time. I've read a lot of books about faith and spirituality and it's been good for me. I don't just love Jesus, I love God. And I accept that I don't understand him all the time...because let's face it, he's not just a 2-dimensional box we can rely on for spiritual supplies like that whole 'armor of God' metaphor and other practical things like hammers and nails and such.
God isn't a tool box.
So anyway, I had a good cry last night and talked to God about my loneliness and how I never wanted my loneliness to be a bad thing. A thing so consuming that the only way out is a relief that ends things.
This entry is probably getting weird already, but I keep singing Damien Rice in my head. I mean let's face it, if I were to go for the drinking Irish type, he would be my musical soul mate.
He has a lyric from "Accidental Babies" that says, "Is he dark enough/enough to see your light?"
How beautiful is that? I've always wanted my future man friend/husband to have that--that quality that wants to fully know my darkness to see the light I guess I can bring. But then I keep thinking that it's God. God IS light, but he's dark enough to see mine--I mean shoot, he placed it in me! He plunged through all that dark junk and cleaned it--beyond shininess. He's not a tool box OR a tool man that just spit-shines something until it looks presentable. He put a little glow in there.
I guess that I don't want to feel like I've lost that glow. I imagine it like a little burning ember--maybe on the edges of a beautiful, rising fire. Sorry for the predictable Christian metaphors, but I'll take my place there where it's a bit darker. I feel comfortable in darkness a lot. But I always want to feel like God penetrates that darkness. I never want to feel empty enough to end things.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
2+2=5
About once a year I go through yearbooks. It's funny to see who I was in that year. My hair (which took on more radical changes in college,) my clothes (which, let's face it, nothing can beat my patchwork vest from 3rd grade), and the hair and clothes and signatures from other people.
I spent the night with a friend and read her yearbooks, snooping through gossipy farewells that revealed relationships, crushes, memories, and typical Scottsville stuff. Then I read my signature to her.
Oh, dear.
I mean--I must admit, it was a "signature" Jamie signature. Sloppy, an italicized mixture of cursive and print, one pretty funny line to provoke a funny memory, and then, there it was.
"Never change!"
Oh sweet Lord, what was I thinking? Then I realized that EVERYBODY wrote it.
Can you IMAGINE if we stayed our high school selves?
I shudder at the thought. If you only knew me. I mean, my body would be cuter, my muscles and such wouldn't hurt so much, but holy cow.
Why is there such resistance to change? It' a stupid question, honestly. Comfort, Fear, Stasis, lalala, the list could probably go on for paragraphs.
I'm one of those weird people who likes change, I suppose. A "Yes We Can" person. A "Why Not?" person.
I would love to philosophize this, but I think Radiohead says it best. Please listen to the whole song because this is only the beginning, but here are the lyrics to
2+2=5.
Are you such a dreamer
To put the world to rights
I'll stay home forever
Where two and two always makes a five
I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag and hide
January has April showers
And two and two always makes a five
It's the devil's way now
There is no way out
You can scream and you can shout
It is too late now
Because you're not there
Payin' attention
I spent the night with a friend and read her yearbooks, snooping through gossipy farewells that revealed relationships, crushes, memories, and typical Scottsville stuff. Then I read my signature to her.
Oh, dear.
I mean--I must admit, it was a "signature" Jamie signature. Sloppy, an italicized mixture of cursive and print, one pretty funny line to provoke a funny memory, and then, there it was.
"Never change!"
Oh sweet Lord, what was I thinking? Then I realized that EVERYBODY wrote it.
Can you IMAGINE if we stayed our high school selves?
I shudder at the thought. If you only knew me. I mean, my body would be cuter, my muscles and such wouldn't hurt so much, but holy cow.
Why is there such resistance to change? It' a stupid question, honestly. Comfort, Fear, Stasis, lalala, the list could probably go on for paragraphs.
I'm one of those weird people who likes change, I suppose. A "Yes We Can" person. A "Why Not?" person.
I would love to philosophize this, but I think Radiohead says it best. Please listen to the whole song because this is only the beginning, but here are the lyrics to
2+2=5.
Are you such a dreamer
To put the world to rights
I'll stay home forever
Where two and two always makes a five
I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag and hide
January has April showers
And two and two always makes a five
It's the devil's way now
There is no way out
You can scream and you can shout
It is too late now
Because you're not there
Payin' attention
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Woops...slight roadblock
I am a financial nut.
No, no, I don't pour myself over the world of finance--I've never taken accounting or any business or economic class whatsoever. I am a financial nut because my brain is about the size of a nut when it comes to the whole money thing...mainly because I hate money and to be honest, I hate having money. I have zero security in money. It's paper. It's metal. When people have a lot of paper and metal, they get excited and go give away their paper and metal for things of substance--cotton, leather, heels, giant machines made out of more metal. I give away money a lot. Not only in the good sense, either. I don't donate to things as much as I used to, so I victimize myself in money masochism and switch my credit card balance for my bank balance. Woops.
UGH I hate money. Hate hate hate. I wish we worked on a bartering system.
So I applied to be a substitute teacher at the school system I went to. 2 years ago, I applied and everything happened in less than a week. I did test thingies to make sure I wasn't a criminal or pothead, and everything was peachy. Little did I know my cousin worked me up the ranks that week, so I didn't have to go through standard protocol, apparently. I applied to be a sub almost 3 weeks ago. I called 2 weeks ago to see what was up. The lady said I'd get a call in September to complete the next steps.
I just recently found out (as in last night) that whenever I get that call, it would be 2-3 weeks afterward until I actually got to sub. It would be slightly impossible to do that from Tonga, SOOOO I am back to square one and my parents think I am a total re-re because now I am freaking out over paying bills and such. Because I don't see the paper and metal on my online bank statement.
So I call employment services today and got this really cool guy on the phone. I told him my situation, and he gently let me down, saying that most people who are need employers are looking for longer commitments, but that I should check back on Tuesday. Then he asked where I was going for the PC. I said, "Tonga, it's in the Pacific Islands," and he said, "OH wow! I lived in Hawaii for years and I met lots of Tongans. Oh, they are such great people and let me tell you--you've never heard a choir sing until you hear a Tongan choir." My mouth kind of did that gentle little "pop" where my chin falls to the bottom of my neck and I blubbered "awesome" a lot and then he told me to email him my resume. So we'll see where that goes.
I also drove through Scottsville on my way home, carefulling keeping an eye out to see if any businesses had a "Now Hiring" sign in front. Dominos had a sign saying "NOW HIRING DRIVERS: you could earn up to ___" and then I looked away, not even wanting to know how much I could earn. Hmm. A Domino's Driver. I could drive.
Then I thought about how I need to sell my car soon. That would take care of my minute financial crisis, but then I couldn't be a Domino Driver and I wouldn't be able to go anywhere unless I borrowed my parents' or my brother's car...which, let's face it, may suck because then they'll be perturbed about my asking to borrow what I sold. Then they'll think I'm too irresponsible because I already sold my car.
THEN I cleaned out--literally--half my closet, to my sister's delight, and took the rest to a boutique in Bowling Green, and thank GOODNESS they took most of it. So maybe I can sell my car, my clothes, hopefully babysit, and maybe be a Domino's Driver.
I still think I should use my mad ukulele skills, pull up in front of the library, plug in my keyboard, and make it as a street performer. I think I have enough charisma.
No, no, I don't pour myself over the world of finance--I've never taken accounting or any business or economic class whatsoever. I am a financial nut because my brain is about the size of a nut when it comes to the whole money thing...mainly because I hate money and to be honest, I hate having money. I have zero security in money. It's paper. It's metal. When people have a lot of paper and metal, they get excited and go give away their paper and metal for things of substance--cotton, leather, heels, giant machines made out of more metal. I give away money a lot. Not only in the good sense, either. I don't donate to things as much as I used to, so I victimize myself in money masochism and switch my credit card balance for my bank balance. Woops.
UGH I hate money. Hate hate hate. I wish we worked on a bartering system.
So I applied to be a substitute teacher at the school system I went to. 2 years ago, I applied and everything happened in less than a week. I did test thingies to make sure I wasn't a criminal or pothead, and everything was peachy. Little did I know my cousin worked me up the ranks that week, so I didn't have to go through standard protocol, apparently. I applied to be a sub almost 3 weeks ago. I called 2 weeks ago to see what was up. The lady said I'd get a call in September to complete the next steps.
I just recently found out (as in last night) that whenever I get that call, it would be 2-3 weeks afterward until I actually got to sub. It would be slightly impossible to do that from Tonga, SOOOO I am back to square one and my parents think I am a total re-re because now I am freaking out over paying bills and such. Because I don't see the paper and metal on my online bank statement.
So I call employment services today and got this really cool guy on the phone. I told him my situation, and he gently let me down, saying that most people who are need employers are looking for longer commitments, but that I should check back on Tuesday. Then he asked where I was going for the PC. I said, "Tonga, it's in the Pacific Islands," and he said, "OH wow! I lived in Hawaii for years and I met lots of Tongans. Oh, they are such great people and let me tell you--you've never heard a choir sing until you hear a Tongan choir." My mouth kind of did that gentle little "pop" where my chin falls to the bottom of my neck and I blubbered "awesome" a lot and then he told me to email him my resume. So we'll see where that goes.
I also drove through Scottsville on my way home, carefulling keeping an eye out to see if any businesses had a "Now Hiring" sign in front. Dominos had a sign saying "NOW HIRING DRIVERS: you could earn up to ___" and then I looked away, not even wanting to know how much I could earn. Hmm. A Domino's Driver. I could drive.
Then I thought about how I need to sell my car soon. That would take care of my minute financial crisis, but then I couldn't be a Domino Driver and I wouldn't be able to go anywhere unless I borrowed my parents' or my brother's car...which, let's face it, may suck because then they'll be perturbed about my asking to borrow what I sold. Then they'll think I'm too irresponsible because I already sold my car.
THEN I cleaned out--literally--half my closet, to my sister's delight, and took the rest to a boutique in Bowling Green, and thank GOODNESS they took most of it. So maybe I can sell my car, my clothes, hopefully babysit, and maybe be a Domino's Driver.
I still think I should use my mad ukulele skills, pull up in front of the library, plug in my keyboard, and make it as a street performer. I think I have enough charisma.
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