Easter Sunday is only 12 days away, which means I have been Facebook free for about a month. Saying I'm Facebook free makes me sound like I'm announcing my sobriety.... But it kind of is what I imagine (on a much smaller scale) what becoming free of your addiction is. Not to say I was addicted to Facebook, but without Facebook I have realized how little of importance it is to me. Now this doesn't mean I don't miss seeing posts from family members or friends, but I have found a greater importance in things I do enjoy, that I've forgotten about because I would waste time on Facebook.
I have been reading a lot more books, which I love. I get to watch the sunrise every morning on the bus, instead of looking to see the latest posts from the Facebook world. Instead of checking what my friends are doing on facebook, while I'm with my friends, I actually hang out and talk to them.
I do get my social media fix on Instagram, so I'm not completely out of the loop. I was comparing Instagram and Facebook to my sister and brother-in-law and how I think it's completely different. Sure, you scroll down and see pictures of people, you follow people the same way you would "friend," people, but that's about it. People don't post pictures nearly as often as they do on Facebook, which is nice. And since its a fairly new Ap, I'm not following 800 people like the 800 friends I had accumulated on Facebook over the last 9 years.
Yes, 9 years. I joined Facebook in 2004 (maybe early 2005). I joined Facebook as a freshman in college.
I think 9 years of Facebook is enough for me. Now I'm not saying I will never get Facebook back, but I really like not having it. I feel more connected without it. I feel more connected to myself and my close friends and my family. It sounds strange, but not having facebook is a relief. I like to not know what people are doing and saying every single day. I actually saw an e-card a few months back that said "I always wondered what it would be like to read people's minds, but then I got Facebook."
I have given up candy, alcohol, diet coke, and Facebook for Lent over the years.
The hardest to give up? Diet coke. The easiest to give up? Facebook. Facebook is such a habitual thing. When I deleted the apps from my phone and iPad, I found myself scrolling over to Facebook and not even knowing it. I wasn't consciously doing it. It was just a habit.
A lot of people were almost worried about me when I gave it up, like I was falling off the side of the planet. But truthfully, we have all fallen off the side of the planet more and more each year because of the Internet. It's a wonderful thing (at times) and a horrible thing (at times). We have, with help of the internet, become lazy and impersonal, while claiming to be so connected! The only thing, dear friends, that were connected to, is the Internet!
I went snowshoeing for the first time a few weeks ago and it felt so great to be disconnected to everything. Sure, I took pictures, which I later posted to Instagram, but I had a few hours of that silence you get in the snow and didn't have an ounce of cell service. And I chatted along the way with one of my best friends. And I laughed more that day than I have in the longest time. I had back spasms from laughing so hard, tears streaming down my cheeks, and a smile so big my cheeks hurt.
I want more of those times. And I want to "be in the know," and use the Internet of course, but just not as much, and not on Facebook.
I'm not trying to convince anyone to get rid of Facebook, but if you've considered doing it, do it. Give it a shot. From the Facebook lover herself, it's not as hard as you think!
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
Adios Facebook!
This Valentine's Day is my big one year anniversary....
Is this coming as a surprise to most of you?
It's not what you think. :) It's my one year anniversary of working up in Seattle! This also means one year of commuting!
My first day of work was February 14th and my first blog post was February 19th. I started the blog as a way to share my bussing stories to my friends and family, but it's obviously about more than just riding the bus.
I didn't think anyone but my family would read it. But so many friends, and people I never imagined, have told me they read it. It's strange to see how many views I've had since I started blogging. I honestly thought my family would maybe sometimes read it, not all of you. So, for those who have read my blog, thank you. Those who have written me personal messages about my material, thank you. Those who are closeted readers, thank you. Never in a million years did I expect 3,126 pageviews at all, let alone in one year.
I had a little flashback to one year ago this afternoon. It was Fat Tuesday and I was going to buy my last diet coke for the next 40 days. I ran down to the vending machine and pushed the WRONG BUTTON! Instead of a diet coke, I got a diet Pepsi (EW). So, this afternoon I wet to buy a diet coke because I am EXHAUSTED. I was exhausted because apparently my narcolepsy medication is now a controlled prescription and my doctor now has to send a hard copy EVERY TIME I refill it. I went to pick it up yesterday and discovered this fun fact, which means I'm out of my meds that keep me awake all day. Okay, so I was feeling guilty for wanting a diet coke this afternoon because I was going to the dentist later.
Screw it. I will fall asleep if I don't. So I went downstairs and had a flashback to pushing the diet Pepsi button again, so I very carefully selected the diet coke button, while snickering at myself for my mistake a year ago.
The bottle came straight down and didn't plop to its side, which blocked the door from opening. My diet coke was stuck. I squeeze my arm in a few times until I realized I don't want to be the person who gets their arm stuck in a vending machine, so I went to ask for help. Generally the vending machines are an issue because its not our company, so you're usually shit out of luck. But I went into the cafeteria and a worker came in to see if he could help. He then went and got a wire hanger and hooked the bottle and made it tip over. He is forever my hero.
I realized it doesn't matter if I had a diet coke before the dentist because the damage is already done from my other days of diet coke drinking. But if diet coke is the worst thing I'm doing to myself I'd say I'm doing pretty good.
This year for Lent I will be giving up FACEBOOK!
I have been getting super annoyed with ads, posts about hoaxes, pictures of people's new guns they bought, and how much time is being spent on it. It's too often you walk into a room of people and everyone is on their phones and NO ONE is talking. I don't want to be that person. I read an article on a set of rules a teenager was given with his new iPhone. These rules were very fitting for a teenager. And very fitting for everyone else, too.
The #1 for me was about turning off your phone or keeping it away when you are in public or with people. Sure, people have important jobs & events in their lives while they need their phone on hand, but put it in your pocket. Don't sit across a restaurant table or dinner table and be on your phone. I've done it, it's been done to me, and it's rude.
I'm getting rid of my Facebook so I can be in the moment. Not the Internet moment where you know everything about everyone and their child, brother, mother, husband, niece or nephew. I mean seriously, we get it. You love your husband... You married him. You don't need to write it on their wall, tell it to their face. Oh you ate pizza today? Yum, now I want some. You took the same picture of yourself again? Cool, I like that I know what you wear everyday.
I am guilty of all of these things, but I don't want to be. I want to actually spend time with my real life friends instead of my virtual friends. I don't want to lose touch with people anymore than before, which is why I'm giving up Facebook. I don't need to call my college friends to see what they've been up to because I see it on Facebook. I don't need to ask my friends if they're going on vacation soon, I see it on their Facebook.
Facebook is a social network. But there isn't a lot of socializing going on. There is a lot of withdrawing on Facebook. It's my friend's birthday? I'll just write on their wall instead of calling them. They had a baby? Cool, I'll write congrats on their wall.
What?
When did we become so impersonal and personal at the same time? I don't know where Billy Bob lives or what he does for work, but I know what his ex wife did to him because he posted a status about it.
I have God knows how many friends on Facebook, but who do I actually talk to? Fun thing about deactivating your account is that you can come back to it whenever you want! Who will I talk to when I delete my Facebook? We shall see! Am I giving it up just for 40 days? We shall see!
I hope to get reconnected in ways that aren't via Facebook, so some of you may be hearing from me a lot more, as I'll be dying to hear what you've been up to!
I will continue to blog about my adventures, so keep me on your radar.
<3
Is this coming as a surprise to most of you?
It's not what you think. :) It's my one year anniversary of working up in Seattle! This also means one year of commuting!
My first day of work was February 14th and my first blog post was February 19th. I started the blog as a way to share my bussing stories to my friends and family, but it's obviously about more than just riding the bus.
I didn't think anyone but my family would read it. But so many friends, and people I never imagined, have told me they read it. It's strange to see how many views I've had since I started blogging. I honestly thought my family would maybe sometimes read it, not all of you. So, for those who have read my blog, thank you. Those who have written me personal messages about my material, thank you. Those who are closeted readers, thank you. Never in a million years did I expect 3,126 pageviews at all, let alone in one year.
I had a little flashback to one year ago this afternoon. It was Fat Tuesday and I was going to buy my last diet coke for the next 40 days. I ran down to the vending machine and pushed the WRONG BUTTON! Instead of a diet coke, I got a diet Pepsi (EW). So, this afternoon I wet to buy a diet coke because I am EXHAUSTED. I was exhausted because apparently my narcolepsy medication is now a controlled prescription and my doctor now has to send a hard copy EVERY TIME I refill it. I went to pick it up yesterday and discovered this fun fact, which means I'm out of my meds that keep me awake all day. Okay, so I was feeling guilty for wanting a diet coke this afternoon because I was going to the dentist later.
Screw it. I will fall asleep if I don't. So I went downstairs and had a flashback to pushing the diet Pepsi button again, so I very carefully selected the diet coke button, while snickering at myself for my mistake a year ago.
The bottle came straight down and didn't plop to its side, which blocked the door from opening. My diet coke was stuck. I squeeze my arm in a few times until I realized I don't want to be the person who gets their arm stuck in a vending machine, so I went to ask for help. Generally the vending machines are an issue because its not our company, so you're usually shit out of luck. But I went into the cafeteria and a worker came in to see if he could help. He then went and got a wire hanger and hooked the bottle and made it tip over. He is forever my hero.
I realized it doesn't matter if I had a diet coke before the dentist because the damage is already done from my other days of diet coke drinking. But if diet coke is the worst thing I'm doing to myself I'd say I'm doing pretty good.
This year for Lent I will be giving up FACEBOOK!
I have been getting super annoyed with ads, posts about hoaxes, pictures of people's new guns they bought, and how much time is being spent on it. It's too often you walk into a room of people and everyone is on their phones and NO ONE is talking. I don't want to be that person. I read an article on a set of rules a teenager was given with his new iPhone. These rules were very fitting for a teenager. And very fitting for everyone else, too.
The #1 for me was about turning off your phone or keeping it away when you are in public or with people. Sure, people have important jobs & events in their lives while they need their phone on hand, but put it in your pocket. Don't sit across a restaurant table or dinner table and be on your phone. I've done it, it's been done to me, and it's rude.
I'm getting rid of my Facebook so I can be in the moment. Not the Internet moment where you know everything about everyone and their child, brother, mother, husband, niece or nephew. I mean seriously, we get it. You love your husband... You married him. You don't need to write it on their wall, tell it to their face. Oh you ate pizza today? Yum, now I want some. You took the same picture of yourself again? Cool, I like that I know what you wear everyday.
I am guilty of all of these things, but I don't want to be. I want to actually spend time with my real life friends instead of my virtual friends. I don't want to lose touch with people anymore than before, which is why I'm giving up Facebook. I don't need to call my college friends to see what they've been up to because I see it on Facebook. I don't need to ask my friends if they're going on vacation soon, I see it on their Facebook.
Facebook is a social network. But there isn't a lot of socializing going on. There is a lot of withdrawing on Facebook. It's my friend's birthday? I'll just write on their wall instead of calling them. They had a baby? Cool, I'll write congrats on their wall.
What?
When did we become so impersonal and personal at the same time? I don't know where Billy Bob lives or what he does for work, but I know what his ex wife did to him because he posted a status about it.
I have God knows how many friends on Facebook, but who do I actually talk to? Fun thing about deactivating your account is that you can come back to it whenever you want! Who will I talk to when I delete my Facebook? We shall see! Am I giving it up just for 40 days? We shall see!
I hope to get reconnected in ways that aren't via Facebook, so some of you may be hearing from me a lot more, as I'll be dying to hear what you've been up to!
I will continue to blog about my adventures, so keep me on your radar.
<3
Monday, January 28, 2013
Will this be for delivery or take out?
I often find myself asking what I must've done in a previous life to have these things happen to me. Mainly I ask myself this question after a day of commuting. I could start a list of the weird shit that has happened to me on the bus, but that'd take all night. As a matter of fact, I'll take a night here soon and do a highlight blooper reel.
About two weeks ago I was on my usual bus and was shooting shit with the bus driver. Another regular and I were giving him a hard time, which came back to bite me in the butt.
Karma.
Two men sat down in the seat in front of me, which is the first set of seats on the bus and are faced toward the middle of the bus. I sit on the first set of seat that faces the front of the bus. So these seats sort of make an L shape. Anyway, they're sitting next to me & began signing. Both men were deaf and one of them moved to sit next to me so they could face each other more and make it more convenient to sign to each other. Let me just tell you it is just as distracting to have an audio conversation over you, as it is to have a signing conversation over you. I could NOT pay attention to what I was doing.
My bus driver was wiggling his eyebrows & laughing at me in his rear view mirror. The next stop is where another regular gets on, who happens to be blind. And every time he gets on the bus, the driver has to call out "Second seat on the left." Well, the seat he is directing him to is between the two deaf men and myself. Obviously they couldn't hear the driver directing him and obviously the blind man didn't know the men were deaf. So I stood up to grab the blind man's arm and pull him toward his seat.
It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke: a woman, two deaf men and a blind man get on a bus....
Well. Jokes on me. The deaf man seated to my left was doing the most outrageous throat scratching cough I've ever heard. He was also burping and BLOWING his burp toward me. I mean come on. At least blow it toward the aisle instead in the poor girls face who is seated against the window!
When I got off the bus, my driver said "That's what you get for giving me a hard time!!"
Karma.
Flash forward to a week later. Get on the same old bus with my same old driver and were joking around the same way.
Karma.
A woman I have actually blogged about before gets on the bus and decides to sit next to me. Or more like ON me. If a passenger has a disability of some sort or has a walker or stroller, they lower the bus. This woman is so largely overweight, he has to lower the bus to let her on. I don't want to sound rude, but there's no other way to say it and there isn't a nice way to sugarcoat it. But she is so fat. She took up so much room that I couldn't even hold my book up to read with both hands. Couldn't get anything out of my pockets (like my phone). I was smushed up against the window, while she reclined her chair back because she couldn't even fit in the space in front of her. She literally took up 3/4 the of our set of seats.
Not exactly the most comfortable ride home. But since I observe the bussing community, I knew I had it coming. If someone gets on the bus and there are very few seats left, you find the one with the most room, which happens to be me for the large woman. And I'm just as guilty because when I am running late, I will get on the bus because I know my chances are going to be pretty good in finding a sliver of a seat open next to a larger person. It sucks to be left with no room, but since I never grew out of my childhood size, I can fit into small spaces.
As I am writing this, the man who is sitting next to me is eating a slice of pizza the size of my head. Yeah, there's a good old no food on the bus rule. Along with the no open container rule.
Speaking of pizza. It was Friday night and I knew I wouldn't have time to make anything since we were expecting company at the house, so I decided to order a pizza.
I attempted at ordering online, but I didn't know what kind of crust it was on the coupon I found. And I wasn't about to get some thin crust, I wanted the thick yummy kind. So, I decided to just call and order it to pick up. I googled the Dominos on Bridgeport, pushed the convenient "call," button that comes up, and ordered my pizza. Immediately after, I called my mom. As the phone was ringing, I noticed an odd number in my outgoing calls list. I put my mom on speaker phone while I looked at my call log. I started laughing. Started laughing really hard.
"Hey bugs, what's so funny?"
"Oh no, I think I just ordered pizza from the wrong place."
"What do you mean the wrong place? The wrong store?"
"Um, well I googled Dominos on Bridgeport and called to order. But I just looked at my phone and I ordered a pizza from Dominos in Bridgeport, Connecticut....."
".......Mom Laughing........"
"I didn't even know there was a Bridgeport, CT."
"Still laughing.... Honey, Steve (her husband) was BORN in Bridgeport, CT. ....Laughing.... So is it being delivered?"
"Uh no, not from Connecticut, no I don't think so haha. I ordered it to pick it up and I haven't paid for it yet."
"Well you better call them and tell them!"
"No way! I'm way too embarrassed, what will I say, sorry I ordered the pizza but I live in Washington State?"
Well, I didn't call them back, but they sure did call ME back.
This afternoon I got on the bus and started telling my commuter friend what I did. She and the bus driver were laughing so hard they couldn't talk. And my bus driver said "Oh my gosh, thank you. That is the best story I have heard all year. That's the best story I WILL hear all year."
About two weeks ago I was on my usual bus and was shooting shit with the bus driver. Another regular and I were giving him a hard time, which came back to bite me in the butt.
Karma.
Two men sat down in the seat in front of me, which is the first set of seats on the bus and are faced toward the middle of the bus. I sit on the first set of seat that faces the front of the bus. So these seats sort of make an L shape. Anyway, they're sitting next to me & began signing. Both men were deaf and one of them moved to sit next to me so they could face each other more and make it more convenient to sign to each other. Let me just tell you it is just as distracting to have an audio conversation over you, as it is to have a signing conversation over you. I could NOT pay attention to what I was doing.
My bus driver was wiggling his eyebrows & laughing at me in his rear view mirror. The next stop is where another regular gets on, who happens to be blind. And every time he gets on the bus, the driver has to call out "Second seat on the left." Well, the seat he is directing him to is between the two deaf men and myself. Obviously they couldn't hear the driver directing him and obviously the blind man didn't know the men were deaf. So I stood up to grab the blind man's arm and pull him toward his seat.
It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke: a woman, two deaf men and a blind man get on a bus....
Well. Jokes on me. The deaf man seated to my left was doing the most outrageous throat scratching cough I've ever heard. He was also burping and BLOWING his burp toward me. I mean come on. At least blow it toward the aisle instead in the poor girls face who is seated against the window!
When I got off the bus, my driver said "That's what you get for giving me a hard time!!"
Karma.
Flash forward to a week later. Get on the same old bus with my same old driver and were joking around the same way.
Karma.
A woman I have actually blogged about before gets on the bus and decides to sit next to me. Or more like ON me. If a passenger has a disability of some sort or has a walker or stroller, they lower the bus. This woman is so largely overweight, he has to lower the bus to let her on. I don't want to sound rude, but there's no other way to say it and there isn't a nice way to sugarcoat it. But she is so fat. She took up so much room that I couldn't even hold my book up to read with both hands. Couldn't get anything out of my pockets (like my phone). I was smushed up against the window, while she reclined her chair back because she couldn't even fit in the space in front of her. She literally took up 3/4 the of our set of seats.
Not exactly the most comfortable ride home. But since I observe the bussing community, I knew I had it coming. If someone gets on the bus and there are very few seats left, you find the one with the most room, which happens to be me for the large woman. And I'm just as guilty because when I am running late, I will get on the bus because I know my chances are going to be pretty good in finding a sliver of a seat open next to a larger person. It sucks to be left with no room, but since I never grew out of my childhood size, I can fit into small spaces.
As I am writing this, the man who is sitting next to me is eating a slice of pizza the size of my head. Yeah, there's a good old no food on the bus rule. Along with the no open container rule.
Speaking of pizza. It was Friday night and I knew I wouldn't have time to make anything since we were expecting company at the house, so I decided to order a pizza.
I attempted at ordering online, but I didn't know what kind of crust it was on the coupon I found. And I wasn't about to get some thin crust, I wanted the thick yummy kind. So, I decided to just call and order it to pick up. I googled the Dominos on Bridgeport, pushed the convenient "call," button that comes up, and ordered my pizza. Immediately after, I called my mom. As the phone was ringing, I noticed an odd number in my outgoing calls list. I put my mom on speaker phone while I looked at my call log. I started laughing. Started laughing really hard.
"Hey bugs, what's so funny?"
"Oh no, I think I just ordered pizza from the wrong place."
"What do you mean the wrong place? The wrong store?"
"Um, well I googled Dominos on Bridgeport and called to order. But I just looked at my phone and I ordered a pizza from Dominos in Bridgeport, Connecticut....."
".......Mom Laughing........"
"I didn't even know there was a Bridgeport, CT."
"Still laughing.... Honey, Steve (her husband) was BORN in Bridgeport, CT. ....Laughing.... So is it being delivered?"
"Uh no, not from Connecticut, no I don't think so haha. I ordered it to pick it up and I haven't paid for it yet."
"Well you better call them and tell them!"
"No way! I'm way too embarrassed, what will I say, sorry I ordered the pizza but I live in Washington State?"
Well, I didn't call them back, but they sure did call ME back.
This afternoon I got on the bus and started telling my commuter friend what I did. She and the bus driver were laughing so hard they couldn't talk. And my bus driver said "Oh my gosh, thank you. That is the best story I have heard all year. That's the best story I WILL hear all year."
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Taboo
We all know the game Taboo, right? You have teams or partners and try to get them to guess what your word is, without actually saying the word, or a list of similar words. And if you say something you're not supposed to say... You hear a loud BUZZ!!!!!
Same goes for talking about taboo topics. You are quick to get "buzzed," if you say the wrong thing. But you know what? These buzzing words NEED to be talked about sometimes, and talked about without someone buzzing you.
Two most buzzed topics? Religion and politics. Why do they get buzzed and cause controversy? Everyone either thinks they're right, or they are uncomfortable talking about it.
I held my tongue for a while now about the Newtown shooting. That event tore me to pieces, and not just for the kids and their families, but for the shooter, his mother, and their families. And for us, too.
I'm normally one who sits and wonders why? Why did it happen? Why little kids? Why did his mom have those weapons? Why didn't her son, who was SICK, not get help? And of course, I asked those questions to myself and realized there is no point in the wonder. We won't ever know those answers.
But what was the thing that tore me to pieces this time? The "how?" How do we stop this from happening again? How do we help these families who lost theirs? How do we help those who are sick? And I honestly think that the "how?" questions are even harder to live with than the "why?"
Why? Because we tend to ask WHY, after it's happened. We can't change what happened. But HOW? How can we change it?
What a challenging question.
Everyone has their finger pointed away from themselves and at everyone else. Guns are the issue. Sure, if we didn't have guns, this wouldn't happen. That would be nice and a dream come true in my eyes, but is it possible? Ehh... Mental health is the issue. Sure, these "monsters," as people call them, need to be locked up. No. These PEOPLE need help. How do they get it?
I read a lot of articles when the shooting happened and the line that stuck with me to the core was, "If only health care was as easy to get, as say... A gun."
Another finger pointed was at schools for taking God out of them. Okay, when I first saw this I was like "YEAH! That's totally right!" But you know what? The schools don't have to teach the students about God. But YOU can teach your children about God. Kind of goes along the lines of cursive. Did you know they don't teach kids cursive anymore? Wtf?!? I was talking to my aunt about this a few months ago and she said she had to teach my cousin how to write in cursive AT HOME!! Yeah, I know God and cursive are totally different, but if your kids don't learn at school, what you think is important, teach them yourself.
Another finger pointed was at "our generation." All we do is sit on our computers, watch violent movies and tv, play violent video games, and sit behind the computer and chat with total strangers, who don't know us, so we can pretend to be someone else.
Yes, our generation has obsessions with technology, and while there are SOME people who do all of the above, not everyone does. So you can't blame a whole generation or group of people on a handful of mentally ill kids, who didn't/couldn't get help and shot people. That would be like blaming the whole country of Saudi Arabia for the 911 attacks. Yes, a majority of them were from the country, and no, not everyone from Saudi Arabia is going to hijack a plane. Just like not every kid who plays video games or watches violent movies, is going to shoot people.
I have issues with all of these areas being blamed. It's not one of them, it's not none of them, it's ALL of them. So, HOW do we tackle the situation?
Let's start with guns. I don't see any way we can get rid of them all, SO, if you're going to have them? Keep them locked up and DO NOT tell your children where they are. Do NOT even bring them in front of your child. If you have them for hunting, keep them locked away ALL the time. I mean why would your hunting guns need to be out at home? Shooting from your front porch? Yeah right.
If you have guns because you want them for self defense, lock them up and don't let your kids know they are. You're probably more likely to get shot at if you show whoever is approaching you, that you have a gun anyway.
Giving teachers guns at school? Stupid. Not even going to go there.
Mental health. BIG stuff. TABOO stuff. Buzz buzz buzz. Why? I understand this is a sensitive subject and you know what? So is/are anyone else's health condition(s). Cancer? No one wants to get it, but the second they find out they have it? They go to the doctor and get the help they can. Diabetes? No one wants to get it, but they go to the doctor and get the insulin and find out how to manage your nutrition, and so on. High blood pressure? Go to the doctor and get on meds and lean about how to lower it. A cold? No one goes to the doctor for a cold because colds go away and mental health doesn't, but that's how we treat it.
Just leave it be and it will go away.
They will snap out of it. They just hit a few speed bumps is all.
Nope. Not going to work. Take them to the doctor! Don't avoid it because you're uncomfortable or are worried what people think, deal with it! You AND your child may be a whole hell of a lot happier if they get the right help. And going to a mental health doctor doesn't mean you're crazy, it means you want to get better. It makes you SMART, not crazy.
I think the blaming of violent movies/games/etc., is a major cop out. If you think it's the reason people are becoming "monsters," don't buy your kids video games! Don't let them fade away and sit behind video games or violent movies and let that become their reality.
God isn't in schools? LIE. God is in schools, just like God is in your house, or the car, or in YOU. If you have God IN you, he goes WITH YOU wherever you go. God and religion may not be taught in schools, but you can teach them at home. I went to Catholic school, so I was taught about God at school AND at home.
I know I did a lot of hopping around from topic to topic, but seriously, we are not going to get anywhere by pointing fingers at everyone and everything. And we aren't going to agree with each other. And one thing isn't going to fix everything. But you can start with yourself and start with your family. Talk about stuff. Get involved. Set limits.
Limits suck at any age. But I am thankful that my family had limits. Thankful that my parents made us play outside and go to camps and ride bikes. I am thankful my parents didn't let us have video games and that they taught us about God at home, even though we were learning at school. I am thankful that my parents made us talk about things we didn't want to talk about.
I may not have been thankful for these things as a middle schooler or teenager, but it's because I didn't understand it. But because they set limits, I respect them. I still tell them when I need help or when things go wrong. I tell them what I am learning at my counseling appointments. Yes, I go to a counselor. No, I'm not crazy. I'm taking care of myself and you should, too.
Same goes for talking about taboo topics. You are quick to get "buzzed," if you say the wrong thing. But you know what? These buzzing words NEED to be talked about sometimes, and talked about without someone buzzing you.
Two most buzzed topics? Religion and politics. Why do they get buzzed and cause controversy? Everyone either thinks they're right, or they are uncomfortable talking about it.
I held my tongue for a while now about the Newtown shooting. That event tore me to pieces, and not just for the kids and their families, but for the shooter, his mother, and their families. And for us, too.
I'm normally one who sits and wonders why? Why did it happen? Why little kids? Why did his mom have those weapons? Why didn't her son, who was SICK, not get help? And of course, I asked those questions to myself and realized there is no point in the wonder. We won't ever know those answers.
But what was the thing that tore me to pieces this time? The "how?" How do we stop this from happening again? How do we help these families who lost theirs? How do we help those who are sick? And I honestly think that the "how?" questions are even harder to live with than the "why?"
Why? Because we tend to ask WHY, after it's happened. We can't change what happened. But HOW? How can we change it?
What a challenging question.
Everyone has their finger pointed away from themselves and at everyone else. Guns are the issue. Sure, if we didn't have guns, this wouldn't happen. That would be nice and a dream come true in my eyes, but is it possible? Ehh... Mental health is the issue. Sure, these "monsters," as people call them, need to be locked up. No. These PEOPLE need help. How do they get it?
I read a lot of articles when the shooting happened and the line that stuck with me to the core was, "If only health care was as easy to get, as say... A gun."
Another finger pointed was at schools for taking God out of them. Okay, when I first saw this I was like "YEAH! That's totally right!" But you know what? The schools don't have to teach the students about God. But YOU can teach your children about God. Kind of goes along the lines of cursive. Did you know they don't teach kids cursive anymore? Wtf?!? I was talking to my aunt about this a few months ago and she said she had to teach my cousin how to write in cursive AT HOME!! Yeah, I know God and cursive are totally different, but if your kids don't learn at school, what you think is important, teach them yourself.
Another finger pointed was at "our generation." All we do is sit on our computers, watch violent movies and tv, play violent video games, and sit behind the computer and chat with total strangers, who don't know us, so we can pretend to be someone else.
Yes, our generation has obsessions with technology, and while there are SOME people who do all of the above, not everyone does. So you can't blame a whole generation or group of people on a handful of mentally ill kids, who didn't/couldn't get help and shot people. That would be like blaming the whole country of Saudi Arabia for the 911 attacks. Yes, a majority of them were from the country, and no, not everyone from Saudi Arabia is going to hijack a plane. Just like not every kid who plays video games or watches violent movies, is going to shoot people.
I have issues with all of these areas being blamed. It's not one of them, it's not none of them, it's ALL of them. So, HOW do we tackle the situation?
Let's start with guns. I don't see any way we can get rid of them all, SO, if you're going to have them? Keep them locked up and DO NOT tell your children where they are. Do NOT even bring them in front of your child. If you have them for hunting, keep them locked away ALL the time. I mean why would your hunting guns need to be out at home? Shooting from your front porch? Yeah right.
If you have guns because you want them for self defense, lock them up and don't let your kids know they are. You're probably more likely to get shot at if you show whoever is approaching you, that you have a gun anyway.
Giving teachers guns at school? Stupid. Not even going to go there.
Mental health. BIG stuff. TABOO stuff. Buzz buzz buzz. Why? I understand this is a sensitive subject and you know what? So is/are anyone else's health condition(s). Cancer? No one wants to get it, but the second they find out they have it? They go to the doctor and get the help they can. Diabetes? No one wants to get it, but they go to the doctor and get the insulin and find out how to manage your nutrition, and so on. High blood pressure? Go to the doctor and get on meds and lean about how to lower it. A cold? No one goes to the doctor for a cold because colds go away and mental health doesn't, but that's how we treat it.
Just leave it be and it will go away.
They will snap out of it. They just hit a few speed bumps is all.
Nope. Not going to work. Take them to the doctor! Don't avoid it because you're uncomfortable or are worried what people think, deal with it! You AND your child may be a whole hell of a lot happier if they get the right help. And going to a mental health doctor doesn't mean you're crazy, it means you want to get better. It makes you SMART, not crazy.
I think the blaming of violent movies/games/etc., is a major cop out. If you think it's the reason people are becoming "monsters," don't buy your kids video games! Don't let them fade away and sit behind video games or violent movies and let that become their reality.
God isn't in schools? LIE. God is in schools, just like God is in your house, or the car, or in YOU. If you have God IN you, he goes WITH YOU wherever you go. God and religion may not be taught in schools, but you can teach them at home. I went to Catholic school, so I was taught about God at school AND at home.
I know I did a lot of hopping around from topic to topic, but seriously, we are not going to get anywhere by pointing fingers at everyone and everything. And we aren't going to agree with each other. And one thing isn't going to fix everything. But you can start with yourself and start with your family. Talk about stuff. Get involved. Set limits.
Limits suck at any age. But I am thankful that my family had limits. Thankful that my parents made us play outside and go to camps and ride bikes. I am thankful my parents didn't let us have video games and that they taught us about God at home, even though we were learning at school. I am thankful that my parents made us talk about things we didn't want to talk about.
I may not have been thankful for these things as a middle schooler or teenager, but it's because I didn't understand it. But because they set limits, I respect them. I still tell them when I need help or when things go wrong. I tell them what I am learning at my counseling appointments. Yes, I go to a counselor. No, I'm not crazy. I'm taking care of myself and you should, too.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Breaking the Law
Wearing pants should be the law. And if, for some reason you should be without pants... Wear underwear. And if for some reason you are without both? Don't ride the bus. Don't leave your house. And DO NOT BEND OVER!
This seems pretty logical, right? (Insert buzzer noise here). Well, the man on my bus tonight thought a day that called for rain and so-called snow mixture, was a good day to leave the house pant-less. And underwear-less..... At least it gave me a good laugh.
There is less than a week until Christmas, it's "snowing," in Seattle, and everyone just wants to finish the week so they can have their long holiday weekends. A lot of people, including myself, are stressed and busy, which leads to having some Grinch moments. Or Scrooge moments. I'm going to start using "Go Scrooge yourself," or "Scrooge you," thanks to a clever friend who passed that along to me.
Here's my version of a Christmas poem:
Twas the week before Christmas, in the Pacific Northwest, not a Seattleite was driving, because of the "dust."
The "dust" so they say, was snowy and wet, let's cancel school, so they say. Give them their shortest summer yet!
The commuters were running to catch the next bus, while whispers of being home by 6 laughed in their heads! And Crazy man with no pants, and I in my 2 coats, sweater, gloves and PANTS, had just settled down for the long road ahead.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but the the pant-less man bending over and showing his rear!
With a little old driver so lively and quick, he knew in a moment we might soon see his dick! (excuse me on that one, I couldn't pass it up).
And then, in an instant, we made the next stop, and the driver said no good! Your ticket is not!
As I whipped my head round to see him run off, down the street ran no pants man looking lost-er than lost!
So, next time you think you're having a hard time, remember no pants man leaving his pants behind!
Okay, so it's not as good as the original 'twas the night before Christmas... But I had to give it a shot.
This seems pretty logical, right? (Insert buzzer noise here). Well, the man on my bus tonight thought a day that called for rain and so-called snow mixture, was a good day to leave the house pant-less. And underwear-less..... At least it gave me a good laugh.
There is less than a week until Christmas, it's "snowing," in Seattle, and everyone just wants to finish the week so they can have their long holiday weekends. A lot of people, including myself, are stressed and busy, which leads to having some Grinch moments. Or Scrooge moments. I'm going to start using "Go Scrooge yourself," or "Scrooge you," thanks to a clever friend who passed that along to me.
Here's my version of a Christmas poem:
Twas the week before Christmas, in the Pacific Northwest, not a Seattleite was driving, because of the "dust."
The "dust" so they say, was snowy and wet, let's cancel school, so they say. Give them their shortest summer yet!
The commuters were running to catch the next bus, while whispers of being home by 6 laughed in their heads! And Crazy man with no pants, and I in my 2 coats, sweater, gloves and PANTS, had just settled down for the long road ahead.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but the the pant-less man bending over and showing his rear!
With a little old driver so lively and quick, he knew in a moment we might soon see his dick! (excuse me on that one, I couldn't pass it up).
And then, in an instant, we made the next stop, and the driver said no good! Your ticket is not!
As I whipped my head round to see him run off, down the street ran no pants man looking lost-er than lost!
So, next time you think you're having a hard time, remember no pants man leaving his pants behind!
Okay, so it's not as good as the original 'twas the night before Christmas... But I had to give it a shot.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
You're a mean one... Mr. Grinch!
Four weeks of long weekends and short work weeks makes for a long normal work week. It's only Thursday and it feels like it should be Monday of next week.
It started out with holiday weekends with Veteran's Day and then Thanksgiving. Then it was a sinus infection/upper respiratory infection that got me sent home from work for a few days. THEN a vacation I was looking forward to for a few months.
Getting sent home from work is one thing. Getting sent home when you commute by bus AND got sent home 10 minutes after you got there... And already being 15 minutes late due to traffic.... Well, it sucks.
Trying to prepare your work for the vacation days you'll be taking is kind of hard when you're at home sick. Trying to catch up from the 3 sick days you had, while preparing for the 3 days you'll be on vacation sucks, too.
Flying with a sinus infection? You guessed it! Sucks, too!
Going to 80 degree dry heat? BINGO! I swear the second the sun hit my face I was healed. And as you may have guessed, the second I returned to Seattle, my cough came back. Literally as I walked off the plane and took a deep breath of fresh air, I was back to sounding like a 90 year old who had smoked a pack a day for their whole life.
Our flight was delayed Sunday night and I didn't get into bed until just before midnight. Woke up just before 6AM on Monday and headed to work. Stopped by ZooLights to see my sister and nieces, went to the store, and went to bed.
Wake up on Tuesday.... Fall back asleep.... Wake up at the time I'm normally driving to the bus station. Whoops. There was no way to be on time, unless, of course.... I drove. I got to work on time and paid the $12 for parking (I pay $14 a MONTH for the bus), and managed to only honk at one idiot driver. I didn't know I had a meeting that night because I had missed the last meeting from being sick. Get home after 9PM and hop in bed.
Wednesday I am 30 minutes late to work thanks to traffic. I had plans to grab a beer with some friends after work, which was great fun as I expected. I also expected the bus ride to go smoothly since I was leaving after traffic. I didn't want to miss the bus, so I didn't use the restroom before I left. I also hadn't had any dinner. My bus is clearly running late, but I can't run in to go pee because I just know it will come while I'm inside. I'm also standing outside a pizza parlor, which smelled like HEAVEN, even from outside. Another 10 minutes go by.... I'm getting more hungry, more pissy, colder, and my bladder is ready to explode. But I sure as hell wasn't going to miss the bus after waiting all that time. THIRTY MINUTES after the bus was supposed to arrive, it shows up.
Had I known the situation, I could've gone pee, had another beer, a slice of pizza, gone pee again, and still made the bus.
I know I sound like The Grinch, or worse... Scrooge. I'm trying my hardest to stay on the nice list, but if one more naughty-tempting event occurs... I may as well start a coal mine.
It started out with holiday weekends with Veteran's Day and then Thanksgiving. Then it was a sinus infection/upper respiratory infection that got me sent home from work for a few days. THEN a vacation I was looking forward to for a few months.
Getting sent home from work is one thing. Getting sent home when you commute by bus AND got sent home 10 minutes after you got there... And already being 15 minutes late due to traffic.... Well, it sucks.
Trying to prepare your work for the vacation days you'll be taking is kind of hard when you're at home sick. Trying to catch up from the 3 sick days you had, while preparing for the 3 days you'll be on vacation sucks, too.
Flying with a sinus infection? You guessed it! Sucks, too!
Going to 80 degree dry heat? BINGO! I swear the second the sun hit my face I was healed. And as you may have guessed, the second I returned to Seattle, my cough came back. Literally as I walked off the plane and took a deep breath of fresh air, I was back to sounding like a 90 year old who had smoked a pack a day for their whole life.
Our flight was delayed Sunday night and I didn't get into bed until just before midnight. Woke up just before 6AM on Monday and headed to work. Stopped by ZooLights to see my sister and nieces, went to the store, and went to bed.
Wake up on Tuesday.... Fall back asleep.... Wake up at the time I'm normally driving to the bus station. Whoops. There was no way to be on time, unless, of course.... I drove. I got to work on time and paid the $12 for parking (I pay $14 a MONTH for the bus), and managed to only honk at one idiot driver. I didn't know I had a meeting that night because I had missed the last meeting from being sick. Get home after 9PM and hop in bed.
Wednesday I am 30 minutes late to work thanks to traffic. I had plans to grab a beer with some friends after work, which was great fun as I expected. I also expected the bus ride to go smoothly since I was leaving after traffic. I didn't want to miss the bus, so I didn't use the restroom before I left. I also hadn't had any dinner. My bus is clearly running late, but I can't run in to go pee because I just know it will come while I'm inside. I'm also standing outside a pizza parlor, which smelled like HEAVEN, even from outside. Another 10 minutes go by.... I'm getting more hungry, more pissy, colder, and my bladder is ready to explode. But I sure as hell wasn't going to miss the bus after waiting all that time. THIRTY MINUTES after the bus was supposed to arrive, it shows up.
Had I known the situation, I could've gone pee, had another beer, a slice of pizza, gone pee again, and still made the bus.
I know I sound like The Grinch, or worse... Scrooge. I'm trying my hardest to stay on the nice list, but if one more naughty-tempting event occurs... I may as well start a coal mine.
Monday, December 3, 2012
The World Needs More Love Letters
Maybe it's the holidays that makes me all lovey dovey, maybe it's just part of me, or maybe it's this new website I came across.
Remembering the CHRIST in CHRISTmas can be difficult for anyone. It's easy to get wrapped up in the shopping, sales, movies, parties, sweets and shine! We would all be lying if we said it wasn't a lot of fun or exciting. But I know a lot of families are now giving to charities instead of each other, serving food at a shelter, or doing little things throughout the season to bring back the true meaning of Christmas.
So, back to the website I am now obsessed with. It's called Moreloveletters.com and you should check it out. You can sign up to get emails from their team with a story of someone who is in need of some encouragement, love, or acknowledgment. Or you can just start leaving little notes of encouragement in random spots. Some lucky person will find it and turn their day around. Many people leave notes in coat pockets, books, coffee shops, or tape them to a table (and leave the website on the note for the reader to share their story, or read about the organization and how it got started).
Hannah Brencher was trying to find her place in the world, and was doing so in NYC. She began writing letters and leaving them all around the city and kept a blog about writing love letters. She began receiving messages from people all over the world. They were asking her to send them a love letter, and in 9 months she wrote and mailed over 400 letters! These letters went to people she didn't know and would probably never meet, but the connections she made has touched thousands!
More Love Letters has "The 12 Days of Love Letter Writing," which starts today. When you sign up, you will receive an email each of those 12 days, with a request from someone for encouragement during the holiday season. You have one week to mail your letter from the day you receive the request. They will bundle all of the letters and mail them to the unsuspecting recipient just in time for the new year!
This holiday season I hope everyone finds their own way of giving back to the community and helping redefine Christmas! It's the season of giving, not receiving.
I am planning to keep up with the letters beyond Christmas. It's a great activity to do as an individual, in a group, with your students, with your family, or at random. You can make it a new family tradition and start writing letters on Thanksgiving, which you can leave throughout the city for people to find during the holiday season!
"Maybe Christmas, the Grinch thought, doesn't come from a store."
Remembering the CHRIST in CHRISTmas can be difficult for anyone. It's easy to get wrapped up in the shopping, sales, movies, parties, sweets and shine! We would all be lying if we said it wasn't a lot of fun or exciting. But I know a lot of families are now giving to charities instead of each other, serving food at a shelter, or doing little things throughout the season to bring back the true meaning of Christmas.
So, back to the website I am now obsessed with. It's called Moreloveletters.com and you should check it out. You can sign up to get emails from their team with a story of someone who is in need of some encouragement, love, or acknowledgment. Or you can just start leaving little notes of encouragement in random spots. Some lucky person will find it and turn their day around. Many people leave notes in coat pockets, books, coffee shops, or tape them to a table (and leave the website on the note for the reader to share their story, or read about the organization and how it got started).
Hannah Brencher was trying to find her place in the world, and was doing so in NYC. She began writing letters and leaving them all around the city and kept a blog about writing love letters. She began receiving messages from people all over the world. They were asking her to send them a love letter, and in 9 months she wrote and mailed over 400 letters! These letters went to people she didn't know and would probably never meet, but the connections she made has touched thousands!
More Love Letters has "The 12 Days of Love Letter Writing," which starts today. When you sign up, you will receive an email each of those 12 days, with a request from someone for encouragement during the holiday season. You have one week to mail your letter from the day you receive the request. They will bundle all of the letters and mail them to the unsuspecting recipient just in time for the new year!
This holiday season I hope everyone finds their own way of giving back to the community and helping redefine Christmas! It's the season of giving, not receiving.
I am planning to keep up with the letters beyond Christmas. It's a great activity to do as an individual, in a group, with your students, with your family, or at random. You can make it a new family tradition and start writing letters on Thanksgiving, which you can leave throughout the city for people to find during the holiday season!
"Maybe Christmas, the Grinch thought, doesn't come from a store."
Monday, November 19, 2012
Turkey. Thanks. Tradition. My triple threat.
What is Thanksgiving to you? Turkey or ham? Gravy or stuffing? Christmas music or lame music?
Thanksgiving in my family is about as big of a production as a wedding in most others. Well, that's how it used to be. My mom is one of three kids. Add grandparents, spouses, a few cousins, and a couple family friends. It is about 15. Easy enough, right?
Here is where it gets crazy. My dad is one of twelve. Yes, twelve.
Now, I have never been good at math, but if you add the grandparents and spouses, that's 26 people. Each of them have at least 2 kids. Some have 3. That's a minimum of 24 cousins. That's almost 50 people if only family comes, and everyone comes.
Here's where it gets crazy. Again. Having twelve kids means there is a big length of time between the first and last kid (In this case, twins). So we have one of those situations where your nephew is a year younger than you. So you also have to add in the significant others of the 3G (third generation) cousins.
Some of my fondest memories from childhood are of Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's a time where the aunts and uncles catch up, the young cousins get to play, the older cousins get to be too cool for their siblings, and where the grandparents bask in the glory of a legacy. Their legacy and our tradition.
But, like any normal American family, families split and not everyone goes to Thanksgiving or Christmas. Some families are forming new traditions, while others are keeping up with the old. The years go by and the numbers start to grow, but also start to slip away. And now all of the cousins are pairing off and starting their own families. Starting their own legacies.
Whether you have Thanksgiving with friends or family, eat turkey or ham, stay home or travel, stuff your face with pumpkin pie or apple pie, it's a time to be with those you care about.
We overlook the small things because we are so focused on the big things. The small things are what makes us, and we are what makes the big things.
I do have to admit.... this post was originally going to be a recap of the dreadful day I had (A man pushing a woman down, while getting off the bus and the hour and 45 minute commute to work, which made me 30 minutes late). Commuting sucks. It really does. But I can change that by moving to Seattle, or getting a job close to home. But I don't. I love where I work and I love where I live.
I had a time where I felt like a sitting duck. I couldn't get a job I wanted. It sucked and I had a massive pity party for myself. The economy sucks. It's hard to get jobs. Blah blah blah. You don't get anywhere if you think like that. But like I said earlier, the small stuff... It's what makes us. It's that fire under your butt that gets you to the big stuff.
Everyone has different "big stuff," and as long as you're working toward it and heading down the right lane, it doesn't matter who is passing you. They're headed somewhere else anyway.
This Thanksgiving I have more to be thankful for than any year before. I may not be right where I want to be, but I'm on my way. I've chosen my lane and I'm choosing my big stuff.
Happy Thanksgiving to you!
Thanksgiving in my family is about as big of a production as a wedding in most others. Well, that's how it used to be. My mom is one of three kids. Add grandparents, spouses, a few cousins, and a couple family friends. It is about 15. Easy enough, right?
Here is where it gets crazy. My dad is one of twelve. Yes, twelve.
Now, I have never been good at math, but if you add the grandparents and spouses, that's 26 people. Each of them have at least 2 kids. Some have 3. That's a minimum of 24 cousins. That's almost 50 people if only family comes, and everyone comes.
Here's where it gets crazy. Again. Having twelve kids means there is a big length of time between the first and last kid (In this case, twins). So we have one of those situations where your nephew is a year younger than you. So you also have to add in the significant others of the 3G (third generation) cousins.
Some of my fondest memories from childhood are of Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's a time where the aunts and uncles catch up, the young cousins get to play, the older cousins get to be too cool for their siblings, and where the grandparents bask in the glory of a legacy. Their legacy and our tradition.
But, like any normal American family, families split and not everyone goes to Thanksgiving or Christmas. Some families are forming new traditions, while others are keeping up with the old. The years go by and the numbers start to grow, but also start to slip away. And now all of the cousins are pairing off and starting their own families. Starting their own legacies.
Whether you have Thanksgiving with friends or family, eat turkey or ham, stay home or travel, stuff your face with pumpkin pie or apple pie, it's a time to be with those you care about.
We overlook the small things because we are so focused on the big things. The small things are what makes us, and we are what makes the big things.
I do have to admit.... this post was originally going to be a recap of the dreadful day I had (A man pushing a woman down, while getting off the bus and the hour and 45 minute commute to work, which made me 30 minutes late). Commuting sucks. It really does. But I can change that by moving to Seattle, or getting a job close to home. But I don't. I love where I work and I love where I live.
I had a time where I felt like a sitting duck. I couldn't get a job I wanted. It sucked and I had a massive pity party for myself. The economy sucks. It's hard to get jobs. Blah blah blah. You don't get anywhere if you think like that. But like I said earlier, the small stuff... It's what makes us. It's that fire under your butt that gets you to the big stuff.
Everyone has different "big stuff," and as long as you're working toward it and heading down the right lane, it doesn't matter who is passing you. They're headed somewhere else anyway.
This Thanksgiving I have more to be thankful for than any year before. I may not be right where I want to be, but I'm on my way. I've chosen my lane and I'm choosing my big stuff.
Happy Thanksgiving to you!
Friday, November 9, 2012
Rude Awakenings... Déjà Vu
Well it's half past midnight and I'm currently sitting on my floor in my bedroom. I have one blind propped up at eye level, so I can watch my street.
How do you suppose one falls asleep after calling 911 in the middle of the night? (I will report back later on that)
I have been taking part in the daily post on Facebook saying what I'm thankful for. Since it is officially a new day, I am thankful for Pet Detective Tigerlily.
Who needs a watchdog when you have a horrible narcoleptic sleeper and a fidgety 3 year old cat to fight the neighborhood crime?
I'm not sure if I woke her up, or vice versa. Whatever, it's a moot point. Anyway, I went to let her out for the night and she crouched down and was peering around the corner. We had an incident a few weeks ago with the Fugliest... Nastiest.... Shithead raccoon, so I thought the damn thing must be back. I step out on the porch, reindeer pajama pants and all, and expect to find a hissing raccoon.
Let's just say, I wish the raccoon came back.
I watched a man, who was scoping out a neighboring condo for sale. He didn't see me of course, but I ran inside to watch from my house. I turned on all the lights downstairs except for my room. I stood and watched for him through the blinds. He set his gym bag and another bag down on the sidewalk while he scoped out the for sale condo. Meanwhile I grab my phone to call 911, I watch him walk back down the steps and look down at each of ours. He picked up his bags, unsure of which way to go, then heads down the street closer to our house. He was giving each place a once over and was checking where each window was. Then he started to head down a side street. He for some reason changed his mind and kept going down the main street.
My heart was POUNDING so fast as I described what I could to 911. I've called 911 three times in my life.... Twice being in the last 2 months. Once was like I said before, to see what happens. I was ohh 6 or 7 years old?
So I plop myself on my bedroom floor and watch the man walk out of my sight and wait for the cops to drive in that direction. I watched one cop car drive by and a minute later watched another cop car drive by. I felt a little better, but who knows where the man had walked when he went out of my sight? What if he comes back this way?
A few minutes later I see one of the cop cars very slowly cruise back by and check out each of our places. Not a minute later I hear a car gassing it and see the cop car head the direction it just came from. About 10 or 15 minutes later I heard some sirens in the distance. I haven't seen either cop car come back this way. I'm going to assume that is a good sign and maybe they caught the guy.
It's been about an hour since this all started and I'm still sitting on my floor.
Well crap, just saw a firetruck go by. Now I'm way too curious to try to fall asleep.
Here I am, 26 years old and sitting on my bedroom floor in my Christmas pajamas watching out the window as if it's Christmas Eve and Santa should be arriving any minute. I wish it was Christmas Eve because I would totally have Santa's cookies and milk. All of this neighborhood watch has me starving and in need for a 1AM snack.
I decided not to wake up my roommates because the three of us would feed off each other, create the worst scenarios and none of us would have the slightest chance of getting a restful night of sleep.
Today I am not only thankful for my poor sleep habits, my obnoxious cat's poor sleep habits, but for the people who protect us everyday. You may not feel thankful for police officers if you're speeding down the highway and get a ticket. But when you're in a situation like this, you realize the significance of each of those people. It's a scary, but also humbling a experience to need help from a police officer. They are doing things like this everyday and every night.
For me? It's going to be a rough night sleep (what's new), but I can sleep better knowing they are taking care of this.
It's Veterans Day this weekend and there are TONS of people we owe our thanks to. Men and women are fighting and protecting us everyday.
Thank them.
I have 4 hours until I need to wake up. Lets give this sleep thing another shot.
Say thank you. Lock your doors. Say your prayers.
How do you suppose one falls asleep after calling 911 in the middle of the night? (I will report back later on that)
I have been taking part in the daily post on Facebook saying what I'm thankful for. Since it is officially a new day, I am thankful for Pet Detective Tigerlily.
Who needs a watchdog when you have a horrible narcoleptic sleeper and a fidgety 3 year old cat to fight the neighborhood crime?
I'm not sure if I woke her up, or vice versa. Whatever, it's a moot point. Anyway, I went to let her out for the night and she crouched down and was peering around the corner. We had an incident a few weeks ago with the Fugliest... Nastiest.... Shithead raccoon, so I thought the damn thing must be back. I step out on the porch, reindeer pajama pants and all, and expect to find a hissing raccoon.
Let's just say, I wish the raccoon came back.
I watched a man, who was scoping out a neighboring condo for sale. He didn't see me of course, but I ran inside to watch from my house. I turned on all the lights downstairs except for my room. I stood and watched for him through the blinds. He set his gym bag and another bag down on the sidewalk while he scoped out the for sale condo. Meanwhile I grab my phone to call 911, I watch him walk back down the steps and look down at each of ours. He picked up his bags, unsure of which way to go, then heads down the street closer to our house. He was giving each place a once over and was checking where each window was. Then he started to head down a side street. He for some reason changed his mind and kept going down the main street.
My heart was POUNDING so fast as I described what I could to 911. I've called 911 three times in my life.... Twice being in the last 2 months. Once was like I said before, to see what happens. I was ohh 6 or 7 years old?
So I plop myself on my bedroom floor and watch the man walk out of my sight and wait for the cops to drive in that direction. I watched one cop car drive by and a minute later watched another cop car drive by. I felt a little better, but who knows where the man had walked when he went out of my sight? What if he comes back this way?
A few minutes later I see one of the cop cars very slowly cruise back by and check out each of our places. Not a minute later I hear a car gassing it and see the cop car head the direction it just came from. About 10 or 15 minutes later I heard some sirens in the distance. I haven't seen either cop car come back this way. I'm going to assume that is a good sign and maybe they caught the guy.
It's been about an hour since this all started and I'm still sitting on my floor.
Well crap, just saw a firetruck go by. Now I'm way too curious to try to fall asleep.
Here I am, 26 years old and sitting on my bedroom floor in my Christmas pajamas watching out the window as if it's Christmas Eve and Santa should be arriving any minute. I wish it was Christmas Eve because I would totally have Santa's cookies and milk. All of this neighborhood watch has me starving and in need for a 1AM snack.
I decided not to wake up my roommates because the three of us would feed off each other, create the worst scenarios and none of us would have the slightest chance of getting a restful night of sleep.
Today I am not only thankful for my poor sleep habits, my obnoxious cat's poor sleep habits, but for the people who protect us everyday. You may not feel thankful for police officers if you're speeding down the highway and get a ticket. But when you're in a situation like this, you realize the significance of each of those people. It's a scary, but also humbling a experience to need help from a police officer. They are doing things like this everyday and every night.
For me? It's going to be a rough night sleep (what's new), but I can sleep better knowing they are taking care of this.
It's Veterans Day this weekend and there are TONS of people we owe our thanks to. Men and women are fighting and protecting us everyday.
Thank them.
I have 4 hours until I need to wake up. Lets give this sleep thing another shot.
Say thank you. Lock your doors. Say your prayers.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Something for you dirty folks....
This is my dirtiest post thus far...
Get ready for it....
Okay, so I just had to do my annual training at work... and let me tell you.... I feel DIRTY!
The number of bacteria on YOUR body RIGHT NOW is greater than the number of PEOPLE in the UNITED STATES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OUR hands can contain up to 5 MILLION germs at a time...
98% of infections are SPREAD by contaminated HANDS
It's that time of year, so get your flu shots and wash your hands you dirt balls!
Sincerely,
An obsessive hand-washer
Get ready for it....
Okay, so I just had to do my annual training at work... and let me tell you.... I feel DIRTY!
The number of bacteria on YOUR body RIGHT NOW is greater than the number of PEOPLE in the UNITED STATES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OUR hands can contain up to 5 MILLION germs at a time...
98% of infections are SPREAD by contaminated HANDS
It's that time of year, so get your flu shots and wash your hands you dirt balls!
Sincerely,
An obsessive hand-washer
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Give and Take
Commuting has a lot of advantages and disadvantages. Let's start with the disadvantages... Because that's all I can think about right now. Traffic has been SO awful in the mornings that even when I get on a bus 5 or 10 minutes earlier, I'm still late. This morning for an example, I got to the bus station a few minutes early to try to get on an earlier bus. I noticed that a car parked on the hill had its door open, but no one was in the car or around the car. Being the day after Halloween, I wasn't going to put myself in some weird Halloween aftermath and try to see where the driver disappeared to. I was planning to tell the security at the bus station to have them to check. And maybe I'm overreacting and someone just left their door open in the pouring rain?
I run down, can't find a security officer, so I hop on the bus. The driver said their were a few seats left, I walk to the back of the bus and there were 3 potential seats. Seats where 2 can fit very comfortably, but if you add a 3rd person, it's a little tight. Well, these lovely commuters didn't budge. No one moved their bag or scooted over. So, as I walk off the bus I say loud enough for the whole bus to hear "I'll just catch the next one, no one wanted to make any room back there." The bus driver said he would make them make room, but I said thanks but no thanks. I wasn't about to piss off the already pissy people on the bus.
Well, it's 7:45 and I am normally just about to get on my connecting bus right about now. Guess where I am? Boeing. Stopped. I imagine I will be about 30 minutes late? Probably more, 30 minutes is a pretty generous guess.
Summer traffic is awful in the afternoon and okay in the morning. The summer afternoons are full of Sounders traffic, Mariners traffic, people being idiots traffic.
Fall and winter traffic is awful in the morning and awful in the afternoon. It's dark, cold, gloomy, and wet. I swear it rains 90% of the year and we have a month or two of total dryness and everyone forgets how to drive in the rain.
It's honestly like people are surprised by the rain. "Gosh, I can't believe this weather!" Oh really? That's odd since you've lived here your whole life... And it rains like this 9 months out of the year... EVERY year!
It's been 10 minutes... And all I can see is Boeing.
Okay, there are some great things about commuting.
#1 - I'm not driving.
And thank God for that. If you've followed my posts, you know I can be an idiot driver.
#2 - It's cheap.
I pay $7 a month and my work pays for the rest. I don't pay for parking, I don't pay for gas, I don't get road rage.
#3 - I get to read.
In the last 6 weeks, I've finished 4 books... JUST reading on the bus to and from work.
#4 - The bus drivers
I have grown to love my bus drivers. It pays to be nice to them. If they see you sprinting down the road, they'll wait for you. But only if you are nice to them and make a point to say hi and thank you. They play jokes on you and wave at you, then pretend they aren't going to pick you up, just to tease you. They ask where you were the other day if you didn't catch their bus.
They may not always run on time, but they always get me home safely.
I run down, can't find a security officer, so I hop on the bus. The driver said their were a few seats left, I walk to the back of the bus and there were 3 potential seats. Seats where 2 can fit very comfortably, but if you add a 3rd person, it's a little tight. Well, these lovely commuters didn't budge. No one moved their bag or scooted over. So, as I walk off the bus I say loud enough for the whole bus to hear "I'll just catch the next one, no one wanted to make any room back there." The bus driver said he would make them make room, but I said thanks but no thanks. I wasn't about to piss off the already pissy people on the bus.
Well, it's 7:45 and I am normally just about to get on my connecting bus right about now. Guess where I am? Boeing. Stopped. I imagine I will be about 30 minutes late? Probably more, 30 minutes is a pretty generous guess.
Summer traffic is awful in the afternoon and okay in the morning. The summer afternoons are full of Sounders traffic, Mariners traffic, people being idiots traffic.
Fall and winter traffic is awful in the morning and awful in the afternoon. It's dark, cold, gloomy, and wet. I swear it rains 90% of the year and we have a month or two of total dryness and everyone forgets how to drive in the rain.
It's honestly like people are surprised by the rain. "Gosh, I can't believe this weather!" Oh really? That's odd since you've lived here your whole life... And it rains like this 9 months out of the year... EVERY year!
It's been 10 minutes... And all I can see is Boeing.
Okay, there are some great things about commuting.
#1 - I'm not driving.
And thank God for that. If you've followed my posts, you know I can be an idiot driver.
#2 - It's cheap.
I pay $7 a month and my work pays for the rest. I don't pay for parking, I don't pay for gas, I don't get road rage.
#3 - I get to read.
In the last 6 weeks, I've finished 4 books... JUST reading on the bus to and from work.
#4 - The bus drivers
I have grown to love my bus drivers. It pays to be nice to them. If they see you sprinting down the road, they'll wait for you. But only if you are nice to them and make a point to say hi and thank you. They play jokes on you and wave at you, then pretend they aren't going to pick you up, just to tease you. They ask where you were the other day if you didn't catch their bus.
They may not always run on time, but they always get me home safely.
Monday, October 15, 2012
The Best Things in Life...
I have been wanting to write this post for a few weeks now, but couldn't find the right energy to do so.
Last night I decided to look through some old pictures just for fun. I do this every few months and I find something new each time. Although technology has changed and taken over, I still like to get my pictures PRINTED. Not just sitting on some invisible "drive," on my computer... Or floating around in space. And the same goes for books. I like to physically hold the book and turn the pages. Not just swipe my finger.
Anyway, I decided to look through more pictures tonight. I found my autobiography, which was written my senior year in high school. It is full of (now) hysterical and embarrassing pictures. And it wouldn't be complete without a timeline, life story, and prediction of the future.
Well, lets just say I'm not where I thought I'd be, but I'm exactly where I should be.
I was shocked when I read my prediction, not just because I'm not married, don't have kids, or make all the money in the world, but because I read word for word what I wanted to write my post about.
It reads "The best things in life depend on timing and personality." So, part of this post I've been waiting to write is about how I don't believe in "everything happens for a reason." BUT I believe that the timing of everything happens for a reason. To some of you, you probably think that sounds the same. When people tell you everything happens for a reason it's a way of comforting you and trying to make sense of what has happened.
Working and being surrounded by cancer patients is a huge wake up call. I mean, can you imagine telling them that everything happens for a reason? "It's making you so much stronger," people say. Yes, it does make you stronger, but it also makes you weaker. For those who are lucky enough to survive, they might think you're right. But the ones who don't make it? For their families? I wouldn't dare tell someone their family member lost the battle for a "reason." Yes, I believe in God and I believe He has a plan for everyone. But what He can't control is our health. He is there to guide us and give us faith, but He cannot change physical things about ourselves and the world we live in. That would be pretty awesome if He could, but what lessons would we learn if we were given everything we wanted?
I believe in the timing of everything. Let's take a sequence of bad events. For example.... About 4 years ago my grandma passed away. A month or two later, my uncle was diagnosed with cancer and the diagnosis didn't look good. A few months after that, my grandpa passed away. A few months after that, my uncle with cancer passed away. The week of his service, another uncle wasn't feeling well. He had cancer 10 years before that. He fought like hell that round and made it out on top. But he knew something wasn't right. Cancer was back. How could that be? A year later he passed away. The month he passed away, his daughter was diagnosed with cancer.
So, writing this down in words seems a little insane. And yes, it was insane. BUT the sequence of events makes sense. Not the events itself. Grandma and grandpa passed away first, which saved them the pain of losing their children. The first uncle decided to fight the "C" word so he could buy some time with his loved ones. He chose quantity. The next uncle decided against the treatment because he had already gone through it before, then watched his brother suffer through it. He chose quality over quantity. And lastly, my cousin who was diagnosed when her dad passed away. My gosh. I can't even imagine that happening. I still can't. BUT... She fought it and kicked its ass. She made it out on top.
10 years ago I wrote "The best things in life depend on timing and personality." Today? I would say it again, but add the best AND worst things.
The second part of what I wrote said "What is a horrible day for one, might be the best day for another." This doesn't make your worst days unimportant, it's just something to acknowledge.
I saw a quote this week that I wish could be posted on each of our foreheads.
"The things you take for granted, someone else is praying for."
Do the best you can and do it with all you've got. So that when these shitstorm life events happen, we can safely say we did all we could.
Last night I decided to look through some old pictures just for fun. I do this every few months and I find something new each time. Although technology has changed and taken over, I still like to get my pictures PRINTED. Not just sitting on some invisible "drive," on my computer... Or floating around in space. And the same goes for books. I like to physically hold the book and turn the pages. Not just swipe my finger.
Anyway, I decided to look through more pictures tonight. I found my autobiography, which was written my senior year in high school. It is full of (now) hysterical and embarrassing pictures. And it wouldn't be complete without a timeline, life story, and prediction of the future.
Well, lets just say I'm not where I thought I'd be, but I'm exactly where I should be.
I was shocked when I read my prediction, not just because I'm not married, don't have kids, or make all the money in the world, but because I read word for word what I wanted to write my post about.
It reads "The best things in life depend on timing and personality." So, part of this post I've been waiting to write is about how I don't believe in "everything happens for a reason." BUT I believe that the timing of everything happens for a reason. To some of you, you probably think that sounds the same. When people tell you everything happens for a reason it's a way of comforting you and trying to make sense of what has happened.
Working and being surrounded by cancer patients is a huge wake up call. I mean, can you imagine telling them that everything happens for a reason? "It's making you so much stronger," people say. Yes, it does make you stronger, but it also makes you weaker. For those who are lucky enough to survive, they might think you're right. But the ones who don't make it? For their families? I wouldn't dare tell someone their family member lost the battle for a "reason." Yes, I believe in God and I believe He has a plan for everyone. But what He can't control is our health. He is there to guide us and give us faith, but He cannot change physical things about ourselves and the world we live in. That would be pretty awesome if He could, but what lessons would we learn if we were given everything we wanted?
I believe in the timing of everything. Let's take a sequence of bad events. For example.... About 4 years ago my grandma passed away. A month or two later, my uncle was diagnosed with cancer and the diagnosis didn't look good. A few months after that, my grandpa passed away. A few months after that, my uncle with cancer passed away. The week of his service, another uncle wasn't feeling well. He had cancer 10 years before that. He fought like hell that round and made it out on top. But he knew something wasn't right. Cancer was back. How could that be? A year later he passed away. The month he passed away, his daughter was diagnosed with cancer.
So, writing this down in words seems a little insane. And yes, it was insane. BUT the sequence of events makes sense. Not the events itself. Grandma and grandpa passed away first, which saved them the pain of losing their children. The first uncle decided to fight the "C" word so he could buy some time with his loved ones. He chose quantity. The next uncle decided against the treatment because he had already gone through it before, then watched his brother suffer through it. He chose quality over quantity. And lastly, my cousin who was diagnosed when her dad passed away. My gosh. I can't even imagine that happening. I still can't. BUT... She fought it and kicked its ass. She made it out on top.
10 years ago I wrote "The best things in life depend on timing and personality." Today? I would say it again, but add the best AND worst things.
The second part of what I wrote said "What is a horrible day for one, might be the best day for another." This doesn't make your worst days unimportant, it's just something to acknowledge.
I saw a quote this week that I wish could be posted on each of our foreheads.
"The things you take for granted, someone else is praying for."
Do the best you can and do it with all you've got. So that when these shitstorm life events happen, we can safely say we did all we could.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Rude Awakenings
Some of you may have seen the story on my Facebook status last week about the perverted international phone call I received..... 9 times. For those who didn't, here it is.
My phone started ringing and it was an 11 digit phone number, normally I wouldn't answer, but my mom had been in Europe the last few weeks, so I thought maybe it was her.
Unless my mom turned into a perverted Spanish speaking man, it wasn't her. I was trying to ask what he wanted or why he called, but he began making some sick noises, so I hung up. I turned to tell my roommates about it and they said "What if its something with your mom!" But I said I didn't think that's what was going on, but that maybe someone was pranking me.
The next day at 6:00 AM, he called. I answered to hear the same nasty stuff he was saying before, and told him to stop calling. He called again. I answered and said a big F.U. And hung up. He then called 7 MORE TIMES!!! The last time I answered, I rambled off a bunch of horrible things and gave up.
This phone call was really a very sour way to start my day. When I told my sister I said I was worried something happened to mom she told me she had a missed call from her in the middle of the night, with a 2 minute message of background noise. Okay... Then I started to worry again. I called my mom and she was alive and had not kidnapped by some pervert... Big sigh of relief. Since I didn't want to chance of being harassed again, I called Verizon to have them block the number.
Verizon: Was it a telemarketer?
Me: No, it was an 11 digit number, Spanish speaking man... Trying to have phone sex
Verizon: OH! OH MY GOSH I'M SO SORRY!
Me: Yeah, it was pretty creepy.
Verizon: Well, we will block the number, it's a Mexico number. Did you have anyone home who speaks Spanish who could tell him you'll call the cops?
Me: No, but I said a universal saying I am quite sure he understood.
Verizon: HA! Okay, we'll its taken care of, thanks for calling.
Awesome. That was a weird and rude awakening, but it's settled.
Until last night.
As I have mentioned before, I have wacky and wild dreams that can be VERY VIVID. So this morning, before I could get myself to write this post, I text my roommate to ask "Did that really happen last night or was I dreaming? I'm totally serious." And when she wrote back she said "Yes hahaha it really did happen!!!"
SO... Yay for not being crazy.
It was 2:30 AM, I was half asleep/ half dreaming and could swear I heard knocking at the door. I got out of bed, and as weird as this is (mom don't kill me for having candy in the middle of the night) , I grabbed some mike and Ike's and went to go see if someone was in fact knocking (surely I am hearing things). The second I grabbed the mike and Ike's, the doorbell rang, and following that was VERY loud knocking.
I literally threw the mike and Ike's up in the air and all over the floor. I opened my curtains to peek out at who was out there, I saw a red car and a cop car, and two officers. Oh shit. When I headed for the door, I checked through the blinds a second time, to see if they had some weird person with them at the door.
I looked up the stairwell, hoping to God my roommates heard it, too, and were coming down to help me. I saw Kate and she pointed and whisper screamed "It's the cops!!!" While I essentially did the same thing to her.
I opened the door to face the officers.
"Hi there, is "___name____" here?"
"Ummm no..." (Trying to keep my head on straight, while pushing my heart back INSIDE my body. I'm pretty sure they could see it thumping through my pajamas, along with Kate's)
"Okay, sorry to scare and bother you, we're just going by the address we have."
I then started to think a bit more clearly and told the officers the woman they were looking for used to live here, we get her mail from time to time, but we've been here 2 years now.
The (smirking) officers apologized again for the bother and we shut the door. And as I shut the door I told my roommates I couldn't feel my arms. They both dropped to the floor and said they couldn't feel their legs. We all began laughing hysterically. So hard we were all crying and laughing silently. We sat on the floor of the entry way and laughed about the site we must've been for the officers at 2:30 AM. Between the confusion, awful pajamas, deer in headlights look, and clearly trembling girls scared out of their mind, I think we provided them with some laughs as they went on with their duty.
We sat and discussed why we each thought the cops were there and why they might be after the woman who used to live in our condo. All three of us mentioned the smirks on their faces when the three of us piled in the door jam waiting to be questioned. We don't know why the red car was there, maybe undercover? I didn't notice these small details, but my roommates noticed the cop car was from the sheriffs department and one of the men had on a fire department jacket.
I haven't the slightest idea what the heck was going on this morning. But I hoping that rude awakenings don't come in threes.
My phone started ringing and it was an 11 digit phone number, normally I wouldn't answer, but my mom had been in Europe the last few weeks, so I thought maybe it was her.
Unless my mom turned into a perverted Spanish speaking man, it wasn't her. I was trying to ask what he wanted or why he called, but he began making some sick noises, so I hung up. I turned to tell my roommates about it and they said "What if its something with your mom!" But I said I didn't think that's what was going on, but that maybe someone was pranking me.
The next day at 6:00 AM, he called. I answered to hear the same nasty stuff he was saying before, and told him to stop calling. He called again. I answered and said a big F.U. And hung up. He then called 7 MORE TIMES!!! The last time I answered, I rambled off a bunch of horrible things and gave up.
This phone call was really a very sour way to start my day. When I told my sister I said I was worried something happened to mom she told me she had a missed call from her in the middle of the night, with a 2 minute message of background noise. Okay... Then I started to worry again. I called my mom and she was alive and had not kidnapped by some pervert... Big sigh of relief. Since I didn't want to chance of being harassed again, I called Verizon to have them block the number.
Verizon: Was it a telemarketer?
Me: No, it was an 11 digit number, Spanish speaking man... Trying to have phone sex
Verizon: OH! OH MY GOSH I'M SO SORRY!
Me: Yeah, it was pretty creepy.
Verizon: Well, we will block the number, it's a Mexico number. Did you have anyone home who speaks Spanish who could tell him you'll call the cops?
Me: No, but I said a universal saying I am quite sure he understood.
Verizon: HA! Okay, we'll its taken care of, thanks for calling.
Awesome. That was a weird and rude awakening, but it's settled.
Until last night.
As I have mentioned before, I have wacky and wild dreams that can be VERY VIVID. So this morning, before I could get myself to write this post, I text my roommate to ask "Did that really happen last night or was I dreaming? I'm totally serious." And when she wrote back she said "Yes hahaha it really did happen!!!"
SO... Yay for not being crazy.
It was 2:30 AM, I was half asleep/ half dreaming and could swear I heard knocking at the door. I got out of bed, and as weird as this is (mom don't kill me for having candy in the middle of the night) , I grabbed some mike and Ike's and went to go see if someone was in fact knocking (surely I am hearing things). The second I grabbed the mike and Ike's, the doorbell rang, and following that was VERY loud knocking.
I literally threw the mike and Ike's up in the air and all over the floor. I opened my curtains to peek out at who was out there, I saw a red car and a cop car, and two officers. Oh shit. When I headed for the door, I checked through the blinds a second time, to see if they had some weird person with them at the door.
I looked up the stairwell, hoping to God my roommates heard it, too, and were coming down to help me. I saw Kate and she pointed and whisper screamed "It's the cops!!!" While I essentially did the same thing to her.
I opened the door to face the officers.
"Hi there, is "___name____" here?"
"Ummm no..." (Trying to keep my head on straight, while pushing my heart back INSIDE my body. I'm pretty sure they could see it thumping through my pajamas, along with Kate's)
"Okay, sorry to scare and bother you, we're just going by the address we have."
I then started to think a bit more clearly and told the officers the woman they were looking for used to live here, we get her mail from time to time, but we've been here 2 years now.
The (smirking) officers apologized again for the bother and we shut the door. And as I shut the door I told my roommates I couldn't feel my arms. They both dropped to the floor and said they couldn't feel their legs. We all began laughing hysterically. So hard we were all crying and laughing silently. We sat on the floor of the entry way and laughed about the site we must've been for the officers at 2:30 AM. Between the confusion, awful pajamas, deer in headlights look, and clearly trembling girls scared out of their mind, I think we provided them with some laughs as they went on with their duty.
We sat and discussed why we each thought the cops were there and why they might be after the woman who used to live in our condo. All three of us mentioned the smirks on their faces when the three of us piled in the door jam waiting to be questioned. We don't know why the red car was there, maybe undercover? I didn't notice these small details, but my roommates noticed the cop car was from the sheriffs department and one of the men had on a fire department jacket.
I haven't the slightest idea what the heck was going on this morning. But I hoping that rude awakenings don't come in threes.
Friday, September 21, 2012
There's a first for everything... Well, second, too.
Me: It was my first time calling 911.
Sister: It's exciting isn't it? (Coming from the girl who has called 911 too many times to count).
I was driving home from my aunt's house one night this week and was talking to my sister when the chaos began. I was stopped at a red light and saw a kid (well, teenager) come out of nowhere. He was running out from a side street and when I say running, I mean sprinting. He was frantically looking over his shoulder as he ran. My stomach dropped when I saw him and before the light turned green, I saw a cop car whipping around the corner with it's lights on. Suddenly the cop made a stop at the intersection and pulled a u-turn. I started putting it together and realized he was going the wrong way. He had to have been looking for the running kid! All while I'm on the phone with my sister. I was explaining it to her and she said "Well you better hang up." But I stayed on the phone with her and saw the police shine their big light on a kid walking down the street, who matched the stereotype of the kid I saw running. I told my sister "Oh no, they're going after the wrong kid!!! I should go tell them!!" As I said that, I realized it wouldn't be a good idea to start chasing the cops, who were chasing a possible bad guy. And just then, I saw another cop car come flying around the corner with their lights on, too. That's when I hung up and decided I should call 911 and tell them they're after the wrong kid.
I was so anxious, as it was my first... Okay second time calling 911.
When I was probably 5 or 6 years old I called 911 to see what happens. I remember hiding upstairs between my parents' bed and the window, and called 911 on their phone with the squiggly cord. You know what happens when you call 911 and don't say anything? They call back. BUSTED! My parents asked which one of us called and I had no choice but to admit it. When they asked why, all I could say was that I wanted to see what happens.
Back to the story. I call 911 and tell them what I saw and they asked me all sorts of questions about what he looked like, race, height, weight, age, what kind of clothes, a hat, carrying anything, how long ago I saw him. Then she took down my name and number.
As I was being questioned I was thinking back to all of my psychology classes, which are filled with studies about these types of scenarios and what you do and don't remember. So of course, I was second guessing myself the second she asked the question.
I checked all of the newspapers online and haven't seen a thing. Someone I had told said maybe he stole something? But unless it was a painfully slow night for the cops, I don't think they'd send 2 cop cars flying through intersections for a kid whole shoplifted from Safeway.
I've always thought I'd be a good detective, but I could never last through the police training and all that jazz, to crawl my way to a detective position. But if God has been giving me a sign lately, it's to be a detective.
(Kind of joking... Kind of not)
We received a letter from a participant at work, which I won't go into too much detail because frankly I don't think I'm allowed to. But basically a woman .(74). sent a letter about getting arrested last month. If you want the whole story, I'll tell you. Just not all over the Internet.
Yours truly,
Detective
Sister: It's exciting isn't it? (Coming from the girl who has called 911 too many times to count).
I was driving home from my aunt's house one night this week and was talking to my sister when the chaos began. I was stopped at a red light and saw a kid (well, teenager) come out of nowhere. He was running out from a side street and when I say running, I mean sprinting. He was frantically looking over his shoulder as he ran. My stomach dropped when I saw him and before the light turned green, I saw a cop car whipping around the corner with it's lights on. Suddenly the cop made a stop at the intersection and pulled a u-turn. I started putting it together and realized he was going the wrong way. He had to have been looking for the running kid! All while I'm on the phone with my sister. I was explaining it to her and she said "Well you better hang up." But I stayed on the phone with her and saw the police shine their big light on a kid walking down the street, who matched the stereotype of the kid I saw running. I told my sister "Oh no, they're going after the wrong kid!!! I should go tell them!!" As I said that, I realized it wouldn't be a good idea to start chasing the cops, who were chasing a possible bad guy. And just then, I saw another cop car come flying around the corner with their lights on, too. That's when I hung up and decided I should call 911 and tell them they're after the wrong kid.
I was so anxious, as it was my first... Okay second time calling 911.
When I was probably 5 or 6 years old I called 911 to see what happens. I remember hiding upstairs between my parents' bed and the window, and called 911 on their phone with the squiggly cord. You know what happens when you call 911 and don't say anything? They call back. BUSTED! My parents asked which one of us called and I had no choice but to admit it. When they asked why, all I could say was that I wanted to see what happens.
Back to the story. I call 911 and tell them what I saw and they asked me all sorts of questions about what he looked like, race, height, weight, age, what kind of clothes, a hat, carrying anything, how long ago I saw him. Then she took down my name and number.
As I was being questioned I was thinking back to all of my psychology classes, which are filled with studies about these types of scenarios and what you do and don't remember. So of course, I was second guessing myself the second she asked the question.
I checked all of the newspapers online and haven't seen a thing. Someone I had told said maybe he stole something? But unless it was a painfully slow night for the cops, I don't think they'd send 2 cop cars flying through intersections for a kid whole shoplifted from Safeway.
I've always thought I'd be a good detective, but I could never last through the police training and all that jazz, to crawl my way to a detective position. But if God has been giving me a sign lately, it's to be a detective.
(Kind of joking... Kind of not)
We received a letter from a participant at work, which I won't go into too much detail because frankly I don't think I'm allowed to. But basically a woman .(74). sent a letter about getting arrested last month. If you want the whole story, I'll tell you. Just not all over the Internet.
Yours truly,
Detective
Friday, September 7, 2012
*!!!!GASP!!!!* You... Don't... Use... Eye cream?!
During one of my first weeks of commuting on the bus I had the man sitting next to me accuse me of bringing weed on the bus. I remember thinking it was such a hilarious accusation, considering the way I look, the time of day (not that it matters for those who DO smoke), and that I would be going to work with weed in my bag... At a hospital! Anyway, I nabbed one of the last seats on the bus this morning next to a possible cast member to replace the Jersey Shore crew. Hair has plenty of gel, a track jacket on, glowing tan, sunglasses, and a scent not even I could mistake.... Weed! Since he's passed out from his morning hit, I won't get my chance to accuse him of bringing weed on the bus. (Not that I ever would anyway, but it could be fun)
So, I have had a few moments in the last few weeks that have made me feel a little older than I should... Or am. And I know people who are older than me are probably reading this and cackling thinking "She's soooo young," in that way that you're always reminded by those who are older than you. But when I was getting the patient records prepared the other day at work I noticed their birthday was 1996... And to a lot of you that probably seems really young, but unfortunately we see much much younger patients. But I remember thinking oh my gosh this poor kid is so young... How sad! Then I noticed they were 16 years old and I about flipped out of my chair. Kids born in 1996 can drive? When I saw 1996 I obviously didn't calculate how old they were, since I was imagining a 12 year old. It's kind of like seeing those signs in the grocery store that say "Those born this day of 1991 can buy alcohol." Or whatever it says.... And whatever it says is guaranteed to make you stop and think... Wow I'm getting old(er).
When I used to be a nanny and would take the kids on walks, I would get the dirtiest looks from people, which isn't exactly what you would think people would do when they saw cute babies. But I realized they must've thought I was a teen mom, since people still ask me if I've gone to college yet. But yesterday was quite the different story. I went to Nordstrom to get my face lotion and when the clerk asked if she could help me find something, it went downhill... Fast...
Me: I'm just looking for my face lotion... Oh there it is, I'll get this one.
Clerk: Okay and I'm assuming you're here to get your eye cream as well?
Me: Nope, just the lotion. And this _______(present for my niece).
Clerk: *GASP* you don't use eye cream? (She acted as though I told her I didn't use toothpaste). You should really start using eye cream.
Me: Uh no, I think I'm doing fine with just the lotion.
Clerk: It doesn't matter how young you are, you should use one. We have two kinds. One for fine lines and *pause, with a concerning look* one for those dark circles under the eyes. (She may as well have winked at me).
Me: Haha no, I don't want it. Just these two things.
Clerk: Oh, so is this for your daughter?
Me: No, my niece.
Clerk: Oh my, I assumed you must have kids!
Me: Nope, my niece is turning 2. No kids for me.
Clerk: Oh! I really thought this was for your daughter, you know with school starting and all. Here, let me get some samples of the eye creams. You reallllly should start using them.
.............
Seriously? That's your sales pitch? To tell me i look like a worn out, exhausted mother... that I'm not... To get me to buy your eye cream???
When I finally escaped with (a bruised ego), face lotion, a gift, eye cream sample and all... I got stuck walking behind a girl who must've been in high school, wearing what looked like a cut up tank top, worn as a dress, with a black lacey bra fully exposed, and (maybe?) jean shorts. I rolled my eyes and thought there is no way in hell my daughter would ever leave the house looking like that... Mainly because I would never allow those clothes in my house.
Maybe those clerks should spend more time selling actual clothing to these soon-to-be "Pretty Woman," girls instead of selling eye cream to a tired young lady like myself.
So, I have had a few moments in the last few weeks that have made me feel a little older than I should... Or am. And I know people who are older than me are probably reading this and cackling thinking "She's soooo young," in that way that you're always reminded by those who are older than you. But when I was getting the patient records prepared the other day at work I noticed their birthday was 1996... And to a lot of you that probably seems really young, but unfortunately we see much much younger patients. But I remember thinking oh my gosh this poor kid is so young... How sad! Then I noticed they were 16 years old and I about flipped out of my chair. Kids born in 1996 can drive? When I saw 1996 I obviously didn't calculate how old they were, since I was imagining a 12 year old. It's kind of like seeing those signs in the grocery store that say "Those born this day of 1991 can buy alcohol." Or whatever it says.... And whatever it says is guaranteed to make you stop and think... Wow I'm getting old(er).
When I used to be a nanny and would take the kids on walks, I would get the dirtiest looks from people, which isn't exactly what you would think people would do when they saw cute babies. But I realized they must've thought I was a teen mom, since people still ask me if I've gone to college yet. But yesterday was quite the different story. I went to Nordstrom to get my face lotion and when the clerk asked if she could help me find something, it went downhill... Fast...
Me: I'm just looking for my face lotion... Oh there it is, I'll get this one.
Clerk: Okay and I'm assuming you're here to get your eye cream as well?
Me: Nope, just the lotion. And this _______(present for my niece).
Clerk: *GASP* you don't use eye cream? (She acted as though I told her I didn't use toothpaste). You should really start using eye cream.
Me: Uh no, I think I'm doing fine with just the lotion.
Clerk: It doesn't matter how young you are, you should use one. We have two kinds. One for fine lines and *pause, with a concerning look* one for those dark circles under the eyes. (She may as well have winked at me).
Me: Haha no, I don't want it. Just these two things.
Clerk: Oh, so is this for your daughter?
Me: No, my niece.
Clerk: Oh my, I assumed you must have kids!
Me: Nope, my niece is turning 2. No kids for me.
Clerk: Oh! I really thought this was for your daughter, you know with school starting and all. Here, let me get some samples of the eye creams. You reallllly should start using them.
.............
Seriously? That's your sales pitch? To tell me i look like a worn out, exhausted mother... that I'm not... To get me to buy your eye cream???
When I finally escaped with (a bruised ego), face lotion, a gift, eye cream sample and all... I got stuck walking behind a girl who must've been in high school, wearing what looked like a cut up tank top, worn as a dress, with a black lacey bra fully exposed, and (maybe?) jean shorts. I rolled my eyes and thought there is no way in hell my daughter would ever leave the house looking like that... Mainly because I would never allow those clothes in my house.
Maybe those clerks should spend more time selling actual clothing to these soon-to-be "Pretty Woman," girls instead of selling eye cream to a tired young lady like myself.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Animal House
No, not THAT animal house. I'm talking about my childhood house, which my sister now lives in, which I will be calling The Animal House from now on.
Like every little kid, I so desperately wanted a puppy and begged for one every day, if not every waking minute of my childhood. The answer was always "No, we're too busy for a dog," which was true. But as a kid I thought that was the lamest excuse I'd ever heard. That burning desire to get a puppy still haunts me... All the time! But, like my parents had said, I'm just too busy for a puppy... Still!
I would BEG to go to the pet store at the mall. My parents took me there quite a bit. (I don't know why because I would cry every time we had to leave). And every time I would still ask for a pet. How about a puppy? No, Leslie. Okay, fine. No puppy. How about a bunny? No, Leslie. A kitten? No, Leslie we already have 2 cats. A turtle? Okay, you can get a turtle.
WHAT!!!!! A turtle?! THIS is the one they should have said no to! We quickly found out how stinky and gross they are. And their food looks a lot like their poop, so I never knew when I should clean the tank. Let's just say we didn't keep "Bubbles," for long.
We had two cats growing up. Mocha, who was the fattest and grouchiest cat on the planet, who would torture me and wait at the bottom of the stairs to swat my ankles. I would cry at the top of the stairs and call for someone to come get her. I was definitely way too old to be crying about it and I still get made fun of for it today. But I did love my Mocha girl, no matter how mean she was. Truffle was our other cat. She was the tiniest little runt and was the kitten everyone wished for. She never really grew into a full size cat. She also wasn't completely there in the head, but was so darn sweet!
I also had a fish, whose name I don't remember. But he was a blue beta fish. He also didn't last long.... Another animal story where I was too old to be crying about. One day when I went to empty out the dirty water... He fell out into the sink. And went down the disposal. No, it wasn't on, but we all know where this is heading. I immediately started to panic and told my mom and dad to get it out. Neither of their hands could fit down the sink and since I still to this day have arms of a 10 year old, they told me I had to do it. But I couldn't think of reaching down and touching the fish so I started to cry and said I couldn't do it. I don't think anyone cared about the fish, but NO ONE wanted to be the first one to turn on the disposal. (I think I was gone for that... On purpose).
Now for the animals who WEREN'T our pets...
We lived on a lake and one day I was playing in the street (do kids even do that anymore?) and a Canadian goose started walking up to me. The goose didn't look like it was doing that well and was getting way too close to me. I started to walk away from it and it was following me.... Quickly. I had a plastic hockey stick, so I knew I had a backup plan if it tried to attack me. I started walking faster and so did the goose. I started running and so did the goose. Now, I'm fully sprinting home and swinging a hockey stick behind me at the goose. I ran inside and the goose sat at our door pecking. The goose was really sick and was slobbering and snotting all over our glass door. We got it some bread and when he would eat, he would also poop all over our front porch. This was turning into a sad nightmare. We called my parents and they called the humane society or another animal control place to come pick it up.
Flash forward a few years and my mom and I found a tiny white bird in the yard with a broken wing. Since we know nothing about birds, we didn't know if it was a chicken or a dove or something else (I realize chickens and doves don't look alike. And how weird it would be to have either of those appear in our backyard). But it was a very tiny white bird. We put it in a box and we called someone to come rescue the wild animal. Again.
Flash forward to last Saturday and we have another incident on our hands. My sister, brother-in-law and I were sitting around before heading to a wedding when we heard loud chirping noises, followed by tons of branches and dirt falling out of a very large tree. I saw a nest fall out of the tree and immediately assumed it was for baby birds. Me and Calvin went outside to see what was happening. We were cursing the squirrels who we thought knocked the baby birds, but when we got closer we didn't see any birds. The nest was for baby squirrels. We found one in the bark and I found one who had fallen onto the brick fire pit. My eyes filled with tears so fast when I saw this poor little baby who had fallen probably 20 feet out of the tree on to the brick. But it was still breathing!!! I started whining and saying to come save this one. Calvin scooped up one baby with the nest and said no because the other one was dead. "But its still breathing Calvin, look!! (in the saddest whining/crying voice ever)." So he picked it up an put it in the nest, just in time to see another poor baby squirrel fall out of the tree. (insert more tears here)
At this point we have 3 baby squirrels put in their broken nest in hopes of the mama coming to rescue them. We went inside to give the mom some privacy... AKA us watching like hawks to see what happened. And we watched as the mom frantically climbed down the tree, squeaking at the babies and them speaking back. The mama squirrel's tail was whipping so fast, you could sense her fear and urgency. She came down and picked one up in her mouth and flipped it around to check her baby out, then ran off with her. At this point my sister and I were both crying at how sweet it was to watch her rescue her babies. And started wondering why she saved that baby first and would she come back for the others? Or would other squirrels from the squirrel community come save them for her? (I know, we've seen too many Disney movies).
But we didn't see her come back for a few minutes and my sister and I began to worry that she only grabbed the one who wasn't touched. So we decide to try and lure her back in by putting food in the nest. We watched a few greedy squirrels steal the food and bypass the babies (apparently they aren't a squirrel community like we had hoped).
We started to get ready for the wedding and agreed that if the babies were still out there, we would bring them somewhere on our way to the wedding to be checked out. And I went out to look and she came back for all 3 of the babies!
I know this story has nothing to do with riding the bus, except for the fact that I'm writing this on the bus :)
It was just too sweet of a story not to share! And a much happier post than my rant on Friday.
Like every little kid, I so desperately wanted a puppy and begged for one every day, if not every waking minute of my childhood. The answer was always "No, we're too busy for a dog," which was true. But as a kid I thought that was the lamest excuse I'd ever heard. That burning desire to get a puppy still haunts me... All the time! But, like my parents had said, I'm just too busy for a puppy... Still!
I would BEG to go to the pet store at the mall. My parents took me there quite a bit. (I don't know why because I would cry every time we had to leave). And every time I would still ask for a pet. How about a puppy? No, Leslie. Okay, fine. No puppy. How about a bunny? No, Leslie. A kitten? No, Leslie we already have 2 cats. A turtle? Okay, you can get a turtle.
WHAT!!!!! A turtle?! THIS is the one they should have said no to! We quickly found out how stinky and gross they are. And their food looks a lot like their poop, so I never knew when I should clean the tank. Let's just say we didn't keep "Bubbles," for long.
We had two cats growing up. Mocha, who was the fattest and grouchiest cat on the planet, who would torture me and wait at the bottom of the stairs to swat my ankles. I would cry at the top of the stairs and call for someone to come get her. I was definitely way too old to be crying about it and I still get made fun of for it today. But I did love my Mocha girl, no matter how mean she was. Truffle was our other cat. She was the tiniest little runt and was the kitten everyone wished for. She never really grew into a full size cat. She also wasn't completely there in the head, but was so darn sweet!
I also had a fish, whose name I don't remember. But he was a blue beta fish. He also didn't last long.... Another animal story where I was too old to be crying about. One day when I went to empty out the dirty water... He fell out into the sink. And went down the disposal. No, it wasn't on, but we all know where this is heading. I immediately started to panic and told my mom and dad to get it out. Neither of their hands could fit down the sink and since I still to this day have arms of a 10 year old, they told me I had to do it. But I couldn't think of reaching down and touching the fish so I started to cry and said I couldn't do it. I don't think anyone cared about the fish, but NO ONE wanted to be the first one to turn on the disposal. (I think I was gone for that... On purpose).
Now for the animals who WEREN'T our pets...
We lived on a lake and one day I was playing in the street (do kids even do that anymore?) and a Canadian goose started walking up to me. The goose didn't look like it was doing that well and was getting way too close to me. I started to walk away from it and it was following me.... Quickly. I had a plastic hockey stick, so I knew I had a backup plan if it tried to attack me. I started walking faster and so did the goose. I started running and so did the goose. Now, I'm fully sprinting home and swinging a hockey stick behind me at the goose. I ran inside and the goose sat at our door pecking. The goose was really sick and was slobbering and snotting all over our glass door. We got it some bread and when he would eat, he would also poop all over our front porch. This was turning into a sad nightmare. We called my parents and they called the humane society or another animal control place to come pick it up.
Flash forward a few years and my mom and I found a tiny white bird in the yard with a broken wing. Since we know nothing about birds, we didn't know if it was a chicken or a dove or something else (I realize chickens and doves don't look alike. And how weird it would be to have either of those appear in our backyard). But it was a very tiny white bird. We put it in a box and we called someone to come rescue the wild animal. Again.
Flash forward to last Saturday and we have another incident on our hands. My sister, brother-in-law and I were sitting around before heading to a wedding when we heard loud chirping noises, followed by tons of branches and dirt falling out of a very large tree. I saw a nest fall out of the tree and immediately assumed it was for baby birds. Me and Calvin went outside to see what was happening. We were cursing the squirrels who we thought knocked the baby birds, but when we got closer we didn't see any birds. The nest was for baby squirrels. We found one in the bark and I found one who had fallen onto the brick fire pit. My eyes filled with tears so fast when I saw this poor little baby who had fallen probably 20 feet out of the tree on to the brick. But it was still breathing!!! I started whining and saying to come save this one. Calvin scooped up one baby with the nest and said no because the other one was dead. "But its still breathing Calvin, look!! (in the saddest whining/crying voice ever)." So he picked it up an put it in the nest, just in time to see another poor baby squirrel fall out of the tree. (insert more tears here)
At this point we have 3 baby squirrels put in their broken nest in hopes of the mama coming to rescue them. We went inside to give the mom some privacy... AKA us watching like hawks to see what happened. And we watched as the mom frantically climbed down the tree, squeaking at the babies and them speaking back. The mama squirrel's tail was whipping so fast, you could sense her fear and urgency. She came down and picked one up in her mouth and flipped it around to check her baby out, then ran off with her. At this point my sister and I were both crying at how sweet it was to watch her rescue her babies. And started wondering why she saved that baby first and would she come back for the others? Or would other squirrels from the squirrel community come save them for her? (I know, we've seen too many Disney movies).
But we didn't see her come back for a few minutes and my sister and I began to worry that she only grabbed the one who wasn't touched. So we decide to try and lure her back in by putting food in the nest. We watched a few greedy squirrels steal the food and bypass the babies (apparently they aren't a squirrel community like we had hoped).
We started to get ready for the wedding and agreed that if the babies were still out there, we would bring them somewhere on our way to the wedding to be checked out. And I went out to look and she came back for all 3 of the babies!
I know this story has nothing to do with riding the bus, except for the fact that I'm writing this on the bus :)
It was just too sweet of a story not to share! And a much happier post than my rant on Friday.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Friday feels a lot like Monday
Let me just start by saying this...
I
hate
everything
about
Seattle
today.
I hate the traffic, I hate the construction, I hate the drivers. Why am I so hateful today? It's 4:47 on Friday... I got on the bus at 4:17. Guess where I am now? About 1 mile from the bus stop outside my work. 30 minutes to travel 1 mile? Awesome.
The bus driver just announced the busses are running about 20 minutes late today... Uhh no shit... I just waited 20 minutes for you. She also just said the freeway is a mess and you should take the train. Oh wait.. I missed it already. Should I take the one 30 minutes later? Let's hope I can make it. I also just arrived to my usual stop to see 3 fire trucks parked out front.... For construction! And starting next week, my bus is changing it's route to run down Eastlake... Which is already a headache without all of the re-routes. How long will it be re-routed you ask? 6 MONTHS!!!
Oh yeah, it's 5 now and I've gone 3 blocks. Still sitting in downtown freakkkkkkking Seattle!
To top it off? I forgot my phone at home today... Brought my iPad but the bus doesn't have wifi, so I played solitaire all morning. And now I'm typing this in my notes.
It's now 5:15 and I made the train (yay for wifi). Me and about 10 other people got off the bus and SPRINTED to catch the train. We all made it! Things are looking up!
But wait... It's now 5:45 and I'm in Auburn....I left Seattle an hour and a half ago.
And I'm too mad to write anything else....
Except a big f-u Seattle
I
hate
everything
about
Seattle
today.
I hate the traffic, I hate the construction, I hate the drivers. Why am I so hateful today? It's 4:47 on Friday... I got on the bus at 4:17. Guess where I am now? About 1 mile from the bus stop outside my work. 30 minutes to travel 1 mile? Awesome.
The bus driver just announced the busses are running about 20 minutes late today... Uhh no shit... I just waited 20 minutes for you. She also just said the freeway is a mess and you should take the train. Oh wait.. I missed it already. Should I take the one 30 minutes later? Let's hope I can make it. I also just arrived to my usual stop to see 3 fire trucks parked out front.... For construction! And starting next week, my bus is changing it's route to run down Eastlake... Which is already a headache without all of the re-routes. How long will it be re-routed you ask? 6 MONTHS!!!
Oh yeah, it's 5 now and I've gone 3 blocks. Still sitting in downtown freakkkkkkking Seattle!
To top it off? I forgot my phone at home today... Brought my iPad but the bus doesn't have wifi, so I played solitaire all morning. And now I'm typing this in my notes.
It's now 5:15 and I made the train (yay for wifi). Me and about 10 other people got off the bus and SPRINTED to catch the train. We all made it! Things are looking up!
But wait... It's now 5:45 and I'm in Auburn....I left Seattle an hour and a half ago.
And I'm too mad to write anything else....
Except a big f-u Seattle
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Follow-Ups
A week ago I drove through the pothole and cracked my tire. Yes, I ripped it. My uncle aka Mr.Car Guy said "Honey that's not possible, you couldn't have cracked your tire, you might have cracked your wheel."
Tires and wheels aren't the same thing? News to me....
He starts asking if I had hubcaps or something else. Again, if something is covering my wheel that means hubcap in my mind. Is it steel or metal? I don't know. Is it front wheel drive or something else? Shit. I don't know! All I know is I have a 2009 black Jetta that unfortunately has scratches along the side and a cracked tire.
To make things easier, my uncle came down to meet me and wait for AAA. I left work at 2 in the afternoon and everyone said "How nice! An afternoon off!" Yeah, we'll 5:15 rolls around and AAA shows up. Thankfully I had my uncle to keep me company and laugh at me for not knowing ANYTHING about my car. I don't even know my license plate for God's sake, I just know the car is mine because of the tattoos I've added from poles and cars.
We decide to get the spare out to speed up the process... And what do ya know! It's a full spare! Wait a minute... What's a full spare? Apparently it's the same exact tire I have on my car. Convenient! But I have yet to buy a spare to replace the thrashed tire in my trunk!
I will be buying one tomorrow. Promise!
Last night I thought of the best birthday present to myself. I'll drive myself to work instead of ride the bus! But at 11:45 last night I remembered I don't have a flipping spare tire... Just in case something happens and this wonderful "full spare," flakes.
My boss has been out of the country for 3 weeks and said to me today, "Did I hear it's your birthday? Do anything special for it?" I told him I went to Canada and he said oh just because? So I told him I ran a half marathon and he, who barely even talks to me or smiles bursts into laughter and said "you're crazy, most people relax on their birthday."
Let me tell you, the weekend in Canada was in no way relaxing.
Lululemon makes fashionable and insanely overpriced yoga clothing, which they should just stick to from now on. They talked a big talk for their first race.
Yes, it was their first race so they didn't exactly know what they were doing. But when you give out shorts instead of race shirts, make sure they don't fit like underwear, aren't white, and you don't run out. Another tip, when you brag about not giving us stale bagels at the end of the race like all of those other races, and excite us with waffles and fruit from 9-1. Don't run out of food by 10:45. You should probably have water stations more than every 3 miles and not run out of cups to drink the water from. Oh yes, the real kicker... Get your course certified. My two friends and I all used different running apps and they all said it was over 13.1 miles.
Let me tell you that being out of shape and running the race anyway sucks. Having your phone cut in your Playlist saying "12 miles," really gets you going. I've been told I'm like a horse when I run, once I see the barn I'm gone. Well, no barn in site when my phone said 13 miles (after hauling ass the last mile). I find one of my friends and we are exchanging swear words about the finish line, since her app said she was past 13.1 miles and NO finish line in sight.
I got so pissed I had to walk part of the last mile and told Caylin to go ahead of me. Then she got pissed and walked, both of us yelling "where the f$!? Is the finish line!!!!" While most races give out bibs to wear, they gave us bracelets to advertise the lululemon gear (that I wasn't wearing). The finish line cameras capture you finishing and you can buy your photos based off your bib #.
The pictures they posted to their website are of girls decked out in frilly lulu gear, smiling ear to ear and jumping for joy. Why wasn't my picture up there? Well I don't think they took any because I looked like I just ran the warrior dash... That went through hell and back.
But ya know what... I finished the race. My distance read 13.99 miles and my time read 2:25 and while that is 13 minutes slower than my last race, I did run an extra .98 miles. I finished My 3rd half marathon, my friend Caylin finished her 2nd half marathon, and my friend Stephanie finished we first half marathon... On her actual birthday!!!! I was one proud, aching, and pissed off friend that day and I wouldn't change a thing!
As for my birthday, I would like to say thanks to everyone who has text, called, facebooked or wished me well in person! I am a lucky girl with the best friends and family I could ever imagine!!
Tires and wheels aren't the same thing? News to me....
He starts asking if I had hubcaps or something else. Again, if something is covering my wheel that means hubcap in my mind. Is it steel or metal? I don't know. Is it front wheel drive or something else? Shit. I don't know! All I know is I have a 2009 black Jetta that unfortunately has scratches along the side and a cracked tire.
To make things easier, my uncle came down to meet me and wait for AAA. I left work at 2 in the afternoon and everyone said "How nice! An afternoon off!" Yeah, we'll 5:15 rolls around and AAA shows up. Thankfully I had my uncle to keep me company and laugh at me for not knowing ANYTHING about my car. I don't even know my license plate for God's sake, I just know the car is mine because of the tattoos I've added from poles and cars.
We decide to get the spare out to speed up the process... And what do ya know! It's a full spare! Wait a minute... What's a full spare? Apparently it's the same exact tire I have on my car. Convenient! But I have yet to buy a spare to replace the thrashed tire in my trunk!
I will be buying one tomorrow. Promise!
Last night I thought of the best birthday present to myself. I'll drive myself to work instead of ride the bus! But at 11:45 last night I remembered I don't have a flipping spare tire... Just in case something happens and this wonderful "full spare," flakes.
My boss has been out of the country for 3 weeks and said to me today, "Did I hear it's your birthday? Do anything special for it?" I told him I went to Canada and he said oh just because? So I told him I ran a half marathon and he, who barely even talks to me or smiles bursts into laughter and said "you're crazy, most people relax on their birthday."
Let me tell you, the weekend in Canada was in no way relaxing.
Lululemon makes fashionable and insanely overpriced yoga clothing, which they should just stick to from now on. They talked a big talk for their first race.
Yes, it was their first race so they didn't exactly know what they were doing. But when you give out shorts instead of race shirts, make sure they don't fit like underwear, aren't white, and you don't run out. Another tip, when you brag about not giving us stale bagels at the end of the race like all of those other races, and excite us with waffles and fruit from 9-1. Don't run out of food by 10:45. You should probably have water stations more than every 3 miles and not run out of cups to drink the water from. Oh yes, the real kicker... Get your course certified. My two friends and I all used different running apps and they all said it was over 13.1 miles.
Let me tell you that being out of shape and running the race anyway sucks. Having your phone cut in your Playlist saying "12 miles," really gets you going. I've been told I'm like a horse when I run, once I see the barn I'm gone. Well, no barn in site when my phone said 13 miles (after hauling ass the last mile). I find one of my friends and we are exchanging swear words about the finish line, since her app said she was past 13.1 miles and NO finish line in sight.
I got so pissed I had to walk part of the last mile and told Caylin to go ahead of me. Then she got pissed and walked, both of us yelling "where the f$!? Is the finish line!!!!" While most races give out bibs to wear, they gave us bracelets to advertise the lululemon gear (that I wasn't wearing). The finish line cameras capture you finishing and you can buy your photos based off your bib #.
The pictures they posted to their website are of girls decked out in frilly lulu gear, smiling ear to ear and jumping for joy. Why wasn't my picture up there? Well I don't think they took any because I looked like I just ran the warrior dash... That went through hell and back.
But ya know what... I finished the race. My distance read 13.99 miles and my time read 2:25 and while that is 13 minutes slower than my last race, I did run an extra .98 miles. I finished My 3rd half marathon, my friend Caylin finished her 2nd half marathon, and my friend Stephanie finished we first half marathon... On her actual birthday!!!! I was one proud, aching, and pissed off friend that day and I wouldn't change a thing!
As for my birthday, I would like to say thanks to everyone who has text, called, facebooked or wished me well in person! I am a lucky girl with the best friends and family I could ever imagine!!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Someone should take away my license... Part II
Seriously how do I get myself in these situations time and time again?
Before I even opened my eyes this morning the first thing that came out of my mouth was "no!" when my alarm clock went off. Why? Because I'm pretty sure I got about 4 hours of sleep last night... Maybe it's my new meds since I upped the dose? Maybe it's because it's 90 degrees in my house? Either way... I'm a grumpy, tired brat this morning. I contemplated calling in sick... Or at least late. But I didn't.
I was running almost 10 minutes late, which in bussing world, could make you 30 Minutes late. so I parked on the street instead of driving up to the top of the parking garage and guess what happened next? I drove through a ginormous pothole and cracked my tire. It's not flat.. But could very well be by the time I get back to Tacoma after work.
I knew I should've stayed home this morning when I woke up. But instead, I took my badass Jetta off-roading.
Since I was already running late, I hopped on the bus hoping to call AAA. But you have to be present to get roadside assistance. And from what I gathered online, you needed your card, too. Of course I can't find my card. I wait till at least 7:30 to call my mom and ask her if we got new cards. While feeling like a complete asshole for not having my card with me, I felt a little bit better once my mom told me she had my new card (the old one expired in June).
Called AAA and it turns out I don't need my card with me. Just need my member number. Which I will be saving into my phone right this second.
Big lessons learned today...
1. Always carry your AAA card on you (duh)
2. Trust your gut and stay home when you can't see straight you're so tired
3. Don't drive your car when you can't see straight because you're so tired
The day can only get better from here. Right?
Before I even opened my eyes this morning the first thing that came out of my mouth was "no!" when my alarm clock went off. Why? Because I'm pretty sure I got about 4 hours of sleep last night... Maybe it's my new meds since I upped the dose? Maybe it's because it's 90 degrees in my house? Either way... I'm a grumpy, tired brat this morning. I contemplated calling in sick... Or at least late. But I didn't.
I was running almost 10 minutes late, which in bussing world, could make you 30 Minutes late. so I parked on the street instead of driving up to the top of the parking garage and guess what happened next? I drove through a ginormous pothole and cracked my tire. It's not flat.. But could very well be by the time I get back to Tacoma after work.
I knew I should've stayed home this morning when I woke up. But instead, I took my badass Jetta off-roading.
Since I was already running late, I hopped on the bus hoping to call AAA. But you have to be present to get roadside assistance. And from what I gathered online, you needed your card, too. Of course I can't find my card. I wait till at least 7:30 to call my mom and ask her if we got new cards. While feeling like a complete asshole for not having my card with me, I felt a little bit better once my mom told me she had my new card (the old one expired in June).
Called AAA and it turns out I don't need my card with me. Just need my member number. Which I will be saving into my phone right this second.
Big lessons learned today...
1. Always carry your AAA card on you (duh)
2. Trust your gut and stay home when you can't see straight you're so tired
3. Don't drive your car when you can't see straight because you're so tired
The day can only get better from here. Right?
Monday, August 6, 2012
Rated "P" for profanity
You will have to excuse my language for this post because I don't think any symbols would do me any justice. I need real words.
I'm sure I've mentioned the "Free ride zone," before... Where all the crazies hop on the bus for a few blocks? This is where the majority of these weird bussing stories come from.
One day last week I was waiting to get on the bus when a crackhead cut me in line grumbling about "Those crazy mother fuckers on the corner." And when I say crackhead...I mean it. I'm not just using it to be dramatic. This man's eyes were crossed so closely that you could basically just see the whites(reds) of his eyes.
I always sit in the front of the bus because it's a pain in the butt to wait for everyone to unload off the bus AND so that if something illegal or inappropriate happened, I would be close to the driver. For those of you who don't have public transportation experience you may think I'm exaggerating the "illegal and inappropriate," occurrences but oh yes, they happen.
Back to the crackhead... he apparently had the same seat preference as me, so I ended up sitting across from him. He was talking all sorts of nonsense and while I looked straight ahead,
I couldn't help but notice him doing something out of the corner of my eye. Because he was SO sketchy, I glanced over to make sure he wasn't whipping out drugs or a gun (seems to be an awful trend lately) but he was just struggling to put his backpack on (probably because his eyes were so crossed). I looked back to the road when he shot me a nasty look and said "Oh the little bitch has to check and see what I'm doing. You fucking little bitch."
This is where I wish I wasn't so immature and could keep a straight face. But what did I do? Start chuckling. That awful laugh you get in church as a kid (ok.. Still happens to me) where you know you're supposed to be quiet and NOT make a scene. This of course just pissed him off even more and as he got off the bus he just kept repeating "fucking little bitch."
I told this story to my cousin, who is a bussing newbie... (oops, sorry savvy... The bus really is awesome) and she asked "Holy shit! Was it the scariest thing of your life?" It was surprisingly not that scary. I may be out of shape for my race this weekend, but I'm pretty confident I could outrun the cross-eyed crack head.
Speaking of which, what was I thinking signing up for a half marathon for my birthday? Worst present ever. But I'll have two of my best friends running with me and have my mom there at the finish line! Maybe 26 won't be so bad after all :)
I'm sure I've mentioned the "Free ride zone," before... Where all the crazies hop on the bus for a few blocks? This is where the majority of these weird bussing stories come from.
One day last week I was waiting to get on the bus when a crackhead cut me in line grumbling about "Those crazy mother fuckers on the corner." And when I say crackhead...I mean it. I'm not just using it to be dramatic. This man's eyes were crossed so closely that you could basically just see the whites(reds) of his eyes.
I always sit in the front of the bus because it's a pain in the butt to wait for everyone to unload off the bus AND so that if something illegal or inappropriate happened, I would be close to the driver. For those of you who don't have public transportation experience you may think I'm exaggerating the "illegal and inappropriate," occurrences but oh yes, they happen.
Back to the crackhead... he apparently had the same seat preference as me, so I ended up sitting across from him. He was talking all sorts of nonsense and while I looked straight ahead,
I couldn't help but notice him doing something out of the corner of my eye. Because he was SO sketchy, I glanced over to make sure he wasn't whipping out drugs or a gun (seems to be an awful trend lately) but he was just struggling to put his backpack on (probably because his eyes were so crossed). I looked back to the road when he shot me a nasty look and said "Oh the little bitch has to check and see what I'm doing. You fucking little bitch."
This is where I wish I wasn't so immature and could keep a straight face. But what did I do? Start chuckling. That awful laugh you get in church as a kid (ok.. Still happens to me) where you know you're supposed to be quiet and NOT make a scene. This of course just pissed him off even more and as he got off the bus he just kept repeating "fucking little bitch."
I told this story to my cousin, who is a bussing newbie... (oops, sorry savvy... The bus really is awesome) and she asked "Holy shit! Was it the scariest thing of your life?" It was surprisingly not that scary. I may be out of shape for my race this weekend, but I'm pretty confident I could outrun the cross-eyed crack head.
Speaking of which, what was I thinking signing up for a half marathon for my birthday? Worst present ever. But I'll have two of my best friends running with me and have my mom there at the finish line! Maybe 26 won't be so bad after all :)
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