Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Z is for Zzzz's

     Another topic chosen by Mercedes but I think she meant something along the lines of sleeping or dreaming. Me being me (and slightly fucked up in the head), I'm going to tell you about a nightmare that I had a little while ago. I say it's a scary story but honestly, it's probably only scary when you think it's actually happening. You'll have to excuse details that don't make sense, since this is something I made up while I was asleep.

     Wooden panels, big windows, wooded area, nobody around for miles... That was what we saw when we drove up in his old car. It used to be a restaurant but it had been closed down and condemned in the last year. I wasn't sure why we were even there. I knew basically nothing of the place, only that I had agreed to help him with a project before we were supposed to go to somebody's birthday party.

     "What exactly are we doing here, Wolfy?" I asked him, as we both closed the car doors. He stopped though, to get a bag from the backseat of his car and shut that door a little louder than was needed.

     "This is the place that made so many people get sick or die last year. The radiator was shooting out a bunch of chemicals that ended up poisoning people. It's why it was shut down." I watched as his face changed to a look that I never saw on it- a look of sadness that I never wanted to see again. "It's how my brother died. There was somebody on the news who ended up having a leg amputated because she had a cut on her toe that got infected when she came up here on a dare. She died in a freak accident last week. We need to make sure that nothing like that happens to anyone else."

     I fully agreed with what he was saying. If people were still getting sick or dying or losing limbs, then it had to be put to a stop. I expected to see him pull out something flammable from the bag he had grabbed, but it was spray paint. I stared at the cans, blinked, and looked at him with confusion. He was kidding, right?

     "If we paint over the radiator, then it should at least hold it back some, until the city gets out here to destroy the building." He said it as though it was obvious, but I still didn't fully understand. Even so, I thought of the victims to the place and took one of the cans from him.

     We walked inside. It was pure white all the way around, with little white specks in the air. Wolfy had pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth, so I did the same. The light was awfully bright in the building considering it wasn't very bright outside. Perhaps the sun had finally come out from behind the clouds. I noticed there weren't any tables, chairs, or decorations, but assumed it had all been taken when the owners were shut down.

     "You know, people say this place is cursed or haunted because so many people died. I think the last count was forty-eight." He told me. I couldn't believe it was so many people but the building was still standing. 

     Wolfy walked right over the radiator and started spraying it with white paint. The light reflecting off such bright white completely around the room made it hard to see anything clearly and I was dazed for a few moments.

     "Are you going to help or not?" Wolfy sounded more annoyed than I had expected him to.

     "Sorry, I got distracted." I told him, shaking up the spray paint. I walked to the other side of the radiator where I could see the opening for it to shoot air out into the building.

     No sooner had I started spraying the paint, than a gust of wind blew open the door. My hair blinded my view, but as I fought it back, the paint specs swirled around a figure standing next to me. I screamed but whoever-whatever- it was had vanished by the time Wolfy looked over.

     "It's just wind. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave." Wolfy told me, but I was done. I had seen enough. Whatever the rumors were, were there for a reason.

     "Lets just go. I'm sure nobody else will come up here." I tried to reason.

     He got far more upset than I expected him to. "You can go wait in the car. I'll do it by myself." He had never sounded so angry.

     I cringed back. "Can we please just go? I have a bad feeling about this."

     "Fine." He relented. "I'll meet you at the car. Go get it started." Wolfy tossed the keys to me and by some miracle with how much I was still blinded by the room, I caught them.

     The last thing I wanted to do was leave him alone in the restaurant but his tone hadn't left room for an argument. When I stepped outside, I was surprised to see how dark it was still. Why was the building so light inside without power but it was so dark outside? The wind sent a chill down my spine and I got back into the car.

     I felt eyes on me and I looked up. Was that a shadow in the trees? I couldn't be sure but I started the car. Why was Wolfy taking so long? I looked up at the entrance of the building and didn't see any signs of movement.

     One song played through on the radio before I reached for the door handle to go inside and check. As I did, the door to the building opened and I saw Wolfy standing there. His expression changed and I was not sure why he suddenly looked terrified, until I realized he was getting smaller and smaller. I spun around in the passenger's seat and saw that, yes, the car was rolling backwards.

     Panic filled me and I saw him waving his arms, yelling something that had to have been telling me to stop the car. I climbed over the arm rest and to the driver's seat. The car was still in park but I could hear the engine revving. I slammed my foot down on the brake but the car only went faster. I slammed it down on the gas, just to be sure, but it went faster still. I used both my feet and the car finally stopped so hard that I was thrown against the seat.

     It hasn't occurred to me that the radio was no longer playing music until then. It was static, hints of music here and there, like it was searching for the right station. A cliched demonic laugh played through the station and I heard the same voice say, "Ten points".

     I looked up and saw Wolfy directly ahead. The car revved loudly and I was thrown back into the seat again as it went forwards. I slammed my feet on both pedals but the car only went from twenty to thirty to forty. I grabbed the parking brake but the car went from forty to fifty to sixty. It was not stopping. I grabbed the wheel and turned as hard as I could, but it barely moved.

     Sixty, seventy, eighty.

     When I looked up, I saw Wolfy had run to a pile of hay around a tree. If he didn't move, he would be cut in half. It barely took any time for me to be close enough to start screaming and be heard. Still, he did not move. Instead, he started making hand motions, like he was strapping himself down. I grabbed the seatbelt and buckled it.

     The second I heard the click, I felt the crash. The hay slowed the car enough that the tree did not damage more than the front, but the seat belt made it hard to breath. The passenger side door opened and I screamed, but saw Wolfy. Before I knew what was happening, he had undone the seatbelt and yanked me out of the car.

     I tried to catch my breath. I looked down, never being more happy to see the ground or itchy hay than I was at that moment. A folded, small piece of paper was hidden in the hay. I leaned down and picked it up, but Wolfy took it from me.

     "This is the phone number the the place my brother was treated before he died." He sounded confused.

     We didn't have time to think about anything else before we heard the sound of an engine behind us. We both spun around, ready to run, but the dump truck was not headed directly at us. Instead, it screeched to a stop. A tarp wrapped around it hid any driver from view. After a few moments without any sign of movement, Wolfy took a few steps towards the truck. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop but no sound would come out. He ripped the tarp off of the truck and my hands covered my mouth.

     The sign on the dump truck saying he company was the same as the birthday girl's name. The door opened and another piece of paper fell out. It was identical to the one I already held.

     "Call it. I think thing wants us to call that number." Wolfy told me.

     I took my phone from my pocket and struggled to dial the number with as much as my hands were shaking. Once it was ringing, I put the phone on speaker so we could both hear it.

     "She's next." It was the same voice from the radio. It had the same laugh and then the phone disconnected. My single was gone.

     Wolfy and I looked at each other before we both started running towards the road. The only way to warn her would be to get to the party.

     This would be the part where my eyes flew open and I thought that Wolfy and my friend (the one I went to the concert with) were in danger. Nightmares are not fun times.

Updated: My brother pointed out how little sense it made and I agree. The best thing I can figure is that my brain created some sort of Final Destination scenero with all of the people getting sick in a freak accident, but then after killing off the survivors, it decided that wasn't enough. So, it decided to take revenge on the people who visited the area and when killing the people didn't work the first time, they would suffer (ie- losing a leg or their friend dying) before they were the target again. Sort of like some really bad SciFi movie, I guess. (But the special effects in my mind were much more along the lines of Stephen King level. Too bad the story wasn't though.)

Y is for Yesterday

     And also the day before yesterday when, or, yesterday's yesterday.

     Day before yesterday, I was enjoying my day off. I slept in, I ate waffles, I had plans of just doing some laundry and doing my nails. Then at 2, I was called and asked to pick up a shift at work. I'm new and trying to get on my boss' good side so I said yes.

     The shift could have gone smoother but I'm still new to even having four tables at once, so it didn't go too badly. I did almost crash into some old guy who was coming out of the bathroom so my automatic response was to stop, almost trip over my own feet, and blurt out how sorry I was even though I hadn't actually crashed into him.

     He looked me up in down (in my baggy uniform you can't see a damn thing in) and said, "Wow I wish I had crashed into you, with you looking like that." I awkwardly laughed and tried to flee to the kitchen. He got mad. "That was a compliment." No it wasn't. You're older than my grandfather and quite possibly a decaying corpse, nor was I treated with any respect. It's awkward, uncalled for, unwanted, and I would tell you to fuck off if you ever thought of saying that to me outside of work. I bit my lip, gave the most sarcastic "thank you" I have ever said, and walked into the kitchen.

     I'm getting quicker with getting things done but I still don't know all of the sidework. As it turns out, the girl I was on that particular station with once before had told me wrong and then I had to be retrained to do it. It actually didn't take me very long to do sidework or clean my section, its just that damn box of silverware. It just all builds up and takes time.

     After I clocked out and got my money, I realized something. My food handlers card was missing. Here in Arizona, you must have it to legally work. I had been told to have it on me when actually they are supposed to have it. Like three weeks and nobody told me different? So I told my manager, found out they were supposed to have it, and promised I would get a new one before my shift Wednesday (today) if it didn't turn up.

     When I got home, I was covered in dish water and soda, so I didn't even think about writing my X is for X-Ray post.

     Yesterday, I got up and got dressed before starting my search in the path I walk to work. No luck. I stopped at the gas station next to my apartment and asked if anyone had turned it in- no luck. So I texted Wolfy and it was decided I would go to the library to print up a new certificate saying I passed the test and he would take me to get the card.

     It turns out I didn't need the extra certificate and I got my replacement card without issue. On the way home, we stopped at work and I walked in win frizzy hair, no makeup, and a bitchy "where is my relaxing day off" attitude but I smiled, handed the card to the managers, and left.

     After we got home, I just wanted food and sleep. Then I remembered I hadn't posted for X and it was too late to post for X and Y. So now Y is on the day of Z and X is on the day of Y and nothing is on the day for X. Z should come either later tonight or tomorrow. I would reccomend coming back for that one. It's gonna be my attempt at writing a horror story based on a nightmare I had.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

X is for X-Rays

     Almost 2 days late, but you'll understand why in my Y post (which I should have up tomorrow morning). Mercedes suggested this one too, by the way.

     I've actually had a surprisingly large amount of x-rays considering I've only ever broken one bone. But I've actually had very few x-rays in my life time.

     When I was four, my kitten and my mom's dog were at the top of the stairs in the townhouse we lived in. One bad round of tag later, I was at the bottom of the stairs crying because I bumped my head, my dad had thrown the remote and come running, and my mom burned the blueberry muffins that she was making and practically knocked him out of the way. When I was told to stand up, it was decided I should go to the hospital.

     Like most young children, I was scared of the dark and I was scared of the pain, so I did not like being left alone in a dark room in pain for the x-ray. But I did like the bright yellow teddy bear cast I had, with the teddy bears each holding into three balloons. Red, blue, and green if I remember right?

     I don't think I had more (non dental related) x-rays until I was in 7th grade when the stress stomachaches that I mentioned before. In between piss tests and blood tests, I was taken for an x-ray and the nurse asked, "Is there any chance that you're pregnant?" And I was like "I just turned thirteen and I've never even had my first kiss yet, of course I'm not."

     After that, it was really only ever dental x-rays. Those are my least favorite because of the thing you have to bite down on. I always feel like I'm choking and can't breath. But thankfully I haven't had to have many of those since I got my braces off.

     I think the very last one I had was a scan of my head for my concussion but that's a story all on its own.

     In conclusion: X-rays are not scary and are needed for medical safety reasons so stop worrying about what might happen. It's just a picture of your bones.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

W is for Work

     I don't care that its almost 1 am. I haven't gone to bed yet so technically this totally counts.

     I can't go into many details about where I work because I don't want to lose my new job if my blog were to be found. I never signed anything or agreed to not posting about it, but that hasn't stopped other places from firing other people. So details will be minimal.

     Over all, I really like the restaurant I'm in now. The money is much better than what I was making before. Generally speaking, everyone is nice to me. I was only "trained" five days.

     The first day, I was given lessons about where everything was and customer related things. The second day, I was given a more thorough lesson on protocols and what customers like. The third and fourth days, I was a runner and busser who kept getting yelled at and having the computer taken away from me when I was supposed to be doing everything with supervision. Day five, I just ran food with a manager as expo. Day six, I was put right out on the floor without the final test I was told I would have.

     My first real shift was pretty decent. My first table was easy, my second table asked a million questions to the point I had to just bring a manager with me, and my third table was easy again. I wasn't given any side work that night though but I'm not sure why.

     My second real shift was fantastic. Great tables, great tips, I was busy but I was completely fine. I only ended up with minor issues that were either not my fault or so easy to fix that nobody really cared about it. Lunch shifts don't have a bunch of sidework though so I had almost nothing to do.

     My third real shift was last night- Friday night. It started off with me being double sat with a family of 5 outside of my section and then a table of 2 in my section. I made great tips but I couldn't catch up the entire night. People kept seating themselves at my tables, whether they were dirty ("excuse me but this table is filthy, are you going to clean it now?") or not. I just could not catch up the entire night and when it came time to clean my section and do sidework, I realized that nobody had shown me how to do anything for sidework and I had about 75 rolls of silver to polish and then roll. I tried to be done as fast as possible but nobody had the time to teach me anything until I had been cut for like an hour and a half, but I said I would do better.

     Tonight, I had only four tables so I did well with the tips I made, but one table kept me running back and forth constantly. Before they sat down, I had even had time to start polishing silverware for later. After that, I was fucked. Nobody told me I was cut, my last two tables stayed to chat so I had to stay near the front to keep an eye on them but I was also trying to be in the back to roll silver but the manager kept having me drop everything to run food. Then, it was a whole new set of sidework and none could be done til closing anyways so I put that last on my to do list. I have no idea what time I was cut but it was apparently too long because I was yelled at four times.

     I don't like being yelled at. One manager talked to me and let me explain and agrees that I need time to be taught what to do and having late tables threw me off. The other one wouldn't let me get a word in and said that once somebody is cut, they have 45 minutes to basically get out. I'm not sure how I can clean 4 tables, polish and roll 75 sets of silverware, and do sidework in 45 minutes. Even with knowing what to do. Then I was yelled at again for calling my boyfriend to pick me up after I was clocked out and all I could say was, "I'm clocked out. I was about to tell you. I'm just calling the ride I mentioned before because I don't want to walk with cash at night." and I don't think he believed me.

     This all coming from the manager who I thought liked me the most. At the end of lecture number four, I almost broke down crying. Talk to me if there is a problem, but screaming at me is only going to make me resentful and angry and probably have some sort of break down, and it might get results but I'll have an internal monologue that a sailor wouldn't even say.

Friday, April 25, 2014

V is for Values

     I almost forgot to post again. But I didn't. Win for me!

     I value a lot of things in life (and, you know, life in general). I'm not going to list people or animals specifically because that's sort of obvious. Instead, here's a list of things that I value and if you agree to everything on the list, lets be best friends!

1) Equality- I'm not talking just race and sex. I'm talking age, sexual orientation, appearance, beliefs, work, finances, everything. Nobody should ever feel or be treated as though they are less than somebody because the person treating you less than equal, clearly needs to work on themselves before they start judging.

2) Life and Death- Obviously, I value life because I'm glad that I'm alive and that people I love are alive and that the guy at the table who gave me a tip just for taking their drink order is alive. But death goes hand in hand. Without death, we can't recognize life. The dead were once people too and when I see people walking on graves (or one time, sitting on a headstone), I just want to punch them in the throat and ask how they would feel if somebody did the cha cha on their grave.

3) Honesty- If something is done that might make me mad, I can guarantee that I'll be 100 times more angry if I'm lied to about it. Have some balls (or lady balls) and own up to what you did or when I find out (and I will find out) it will be so much worse and it's guaranteed that you'll have to earn my trust back (if possible).

3) Random Acts of Kindness- I've had random people throw a dollar or change on the counter or look the other way when I'm trying to buy something but didn't have the cash. (It happened much more often when I was younger since now I always try to be prepared). I once had another table pay for my table's food and the ladies started crying because if was so nice. People holding up traffic just so I can cross the street when I'm in a hurry. So many strangers asking if I was okay and trying to comfort me (one even holding my hand) when I left Wolfy last year to go back to my mom's house and couldn't stop crying until my mom gave me a nerve pill (true story). Just... It can literally save someone's life if you do one good deed.

4) The Bad- Without it, we would never notice the good. It may be hard to handle but you will walk away stronger and happier in the end. 

5) Change- Its something that can't be stopped or avoided so you might as well enjoy it. Maybe that's why my hair never stays the same.

Thursday, April 24, 2014

U is for Underwear

     Mercedes' choice, as usual.

     Yes, I wear underwear. No, I don't want to know if you do because I am honestly scared of your answer. Yes, this is a lame filler post to get me through the alphabet. No, I am not ashamed because U is a craptastic letter without any good stories yet.

     See you tomorrow!

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

T is for Texts (Mom Edition)

     These are just a bunch of screenshots with conversations texting my mom. Mercedes suggested it and, well, ya'll seem to love my mom and I talking.

     My mom asked how I was. I said I had to pee but my boyfriend was in the shower.

     I'm not sure where this one came from.

     If you get the cat reference, then you're my best friend.

     I promise none of these were made up. You can tell by the times and battery percentages on my phone.

S is for School

     I was supposed to post this yesterday. So sue me. I was pushed out of training and into my first real shift, which went smoothly, but it was stressfully exhausting.

     People keep asking me about the school that I'm doing now. For those new readers or those just stopping by, I'll give a big of a background about why I'm 20 and still in high school, not college.

     To sum it up, I was bullied so horribly that I was in the hospital about once a week from incompasitating stress stomachaches. I literally woke up unable to move and dry heaving into the toilet from just the thought that it was Saturday morning and I only had two days before going back to school Monday morning. I won't get into all of the details here (I have many other posts with that) but I dropped out when I was 13, halfway through failing out of 7th grade.

     There was a long time when we weren't sure what to do. Homeschooling was either crazy expensive, too far away for testing, or I would still have to go back to my old school once a week or so for testing. We couldn't work with any of those options and the school district (like every one that I've lived in) was like "no you live here so you go to this school, the other school is too over crowded to bring in more students" so transferring was out of the question.

     By the time I was fifteen, I sort of just have up home on a diploma and decided to enroll in GED classes on my 16th birthday. And then we ended up without a car. It was about a fifteen-twenty minute drive to get to the testing center and about a ten minute drive for the classes, but without a car and no busses going to either route, it couldn't be done. I didn't have any friends left in Alabama at that point and my mom is so quick to tell people to fuck off that we only knew two people with a car- but they always took her grocery shopping so it felt wrong to ask for more favors.

     Finally, after getting madder and madder that I wasn't getting any sort of education, Sissi texted me when I was almost seventeen. She was like, "Heyyy my sister just got her diploma online through these classes because her school life sucked too. Here's the site you need to go to."

     The classes weren't exactly cheap and it took a few months to arrange a good budget as well as get the information correct (my mom had accidentally entered me into only 12th grade classes when I needed 9-12... or, you know 7-12, but 9th grade was the lowest option). But I was finally put into the right program and given an account to start doing everything.

     And then the printer broke.

     It wasn't required to print the books up but on that laptop, I think it was the screen that was too small. I couldn't focus. I couldn't absorb anything fromthe  screen. I flew through the books that were printed up and got A's in all of them, which I was quite proud of. But doing school work from that laptop was next to impossible and left me with migraines. I could get very little done and then I also started a full time (basically on call from such short notice) babysitting job so it fell to the backburner since I needed a new printer and quite a few other things.

     And it stayed on the backburner when I got the job in a restaurant when I was nineteen but I had discovered another problem- I couldn't do any of the math. Four courses and absolutely nothing made sense, so I decided that part of my money would be saved for a tutor (which is crazy expensive, by the way).

     And then life happened again.

     It wasn't until I moved out here that I was able to make any real progress in anything. My boyfriend's laptop is bigger than my own was so that's why I think I struggled so much on mine. I can't figure out what else would have been an issue since they're both laptops and one just worked without giving me migraines.

     Unfortunately, due to the laptop breaking here, things are a pain and it feels like I'm never going to get my diploma. I was able to finish up the last non-math courses by hooking the laptop to the TV screen, but I had to call in backup with the math. Sissi got me through my entire 9th grade math course but she's in college level classes so when she says something about my 10th grade math course, it's gibberish to me. Then, the amazing Tina was like, "I used to be a math teacher and I tutor kids and I did my own taxes while getting ready for the A to Z Challenge and also living a normal life and stuff that normal people can't do" (actually she only said the first part but the rest is true). So I was like "OMG YES HELP PLS". And now she is.

     The only hold up now, is time. I literally got out of job training last night and she and I both have a lot going on. It's not going to take the backburner again though. Maybe the side burned and I can switch between my working days and then school work on my days off if I'm not passing out tired.

     It is a very good program though. It gives me 28 courses to total the 24 credits that I need for a diploma. It's made for people 16+ who want a diploma and a full high school education (GEDs have a lot of education, but only the basics, as opposed to me getting to take two psychology classes for example). We only had to pay up to a certain amount, no matter if I finished in a day or in 50 years. Over all, I'm happy with it, just not how long it's taking to finish it.

     I currently have a 3.95 GPA and 21 out of the 24 credits that I need to graduate. Also, I don't care if you know where this school is located because I've never even been to Florida. So ha.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

R is for Restaurant

     This would be one of the Mercedes' choice posts. Also, I know it's like a day late. Shut up. Yesterday was my day off and I have to get other things done while I had time.

     I have a lot of restaurant stories from before and now, but because of all those "you can't write about us and work for us" laws, I won't write about the now place in detail for a while. Just in case.

     Before, it was a family owned Italian restaurant. The menu is all but identical to Olive Garden but because the food is fresh and doesn't come from cans, its about a billion times better. (Except the marinara. The meat sauce and pizza sauce were great, but the marinara tasted like crap.)

     After I became a server there, I felt like I lived there. Nearly all of my shifts were doubles with a one to three hour break between. Most of the time, since I lived about 25 minutes away, I would either stay or just go to lunch nearby with whoever else had to work a double that day. I spent a lot of time in the mall near it and even more time in the Halloween stores last October, because I was bored between shifts.

     The longer I was there, the more comfortable I became with my coworkers, which is good but I also regret not becoming such good friends with them sooner than the month before I was like "oh, btw, I'm moving in three weeks lolol sorry". At the goodbye party for me and another coworker who moved out of state, my closest friends and I started crying. We ended up hanging out in the parking lot for about an hour after closing with 40 degree winds, no jackets, and having plans to hang out one more time before I left but nobody wanted to be the one to leave first.

     Everyone who works there will tell you, nobody stayed for the money but the people who worked there stayed for each other. You can trust somebody not to steal your stuff, but you absolutely cannot trust them not to borrow your phone, go to the bathroom, take a picture of a certain body part, and the  set it as your screensaver, wall paper, and every contact ID. After hearing that, I stopped wondering why everyone had a password on their phone.

     While working there, I saw wedding rehearsals, birthdays, retirement parties, wedding anniversaries, baby showers (my goodness did they leave a mess though...), and one party of 300 people that rented out three rooms and wanted all of their food out at the same time but they all had something different. Things got insane, I got pissed off, but looking back- how cool is it that I got to see so many important events and sometimes help make them more special?

     During slow times or after closing, I saw people dancing, singing, doing cartwheels. I played tic tac toe and constantly had my butt kicked. A bunch of servers collected old toys for a manager's family member who just adopted a couple cousins or nieces or something. Of course before pick up, we all had to check out the toys and one server ended up with a tiny cowboy hat, galloping around one of those toy horses on a stick.

     I ended up in a pink princess tent to model it for another server who was supposed to live there. Why? The server who brought the toys was at the computer and the other server needed the to go boxes above her head. She wouldn't move so, and I quote, "he got all up on her" and she started screaming that she was pregnant and he either had to owe child support or she was taking his house.

     I also had one person who would only ever sit with me. Nobody can figure out why me because he used to only sit with two others first, until after they were gone  and he ended up in my section. He was the pickiest person ever and the first few times I served him, I screwed things up, but for one person he always left $8 or more. One time, I got like $20 on his birthday. I personally told him that I was moving. He shook my hand, wished me luck, and said that if he had any connections here then he would have pulled some strings to get me a job.

     I don't miss serving food or rude customers or long hours without a break or my feet and back hurting from working all day. Hell, give me two weeks and I'll have all of that again. I ranted a lot about that restaurant but I was lucky to have had all the experiences that I did there, especially as a "first real job" and I am damn lucky to have made the friends that I did. 

     I feel almost like my theme should have been "sappy things" or "being positive" because that's how a lot of my posts are coming out. Then I think about my J post or my O post and laugh about how ridiculous that idea is.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Q is for Quiet

     Oh, look! Another post from Mercedes' choice!

     I've found that there are a couple types of people in this world. The first thrives in chaos, the second in quiet, and the third can fit into either category.

     When somebody thrives in chaos, they can work at a fast speed and either have a lot of energy or spend a lot of money on caffeine. They can usually work in a mess without any real issue because they still know where everything is. They tend to be people who always need to do something.

     When somebody thrives in the quiet, they thrive in peaceful situations. If they're working, they need to be absolutely focused on what's going on and things tend to be more well thought out, because they think things through at a slower pace before acting. They work much better in office jobs where it's usually calmer and more organized.

     Then you have the combination. They usually work at a fast pace with loud music blaring but if something is out of place, then they lose the sort of groove they had worked themself into. Once they lose it and lose their pace, it's not usually easy to get back and then they need a quiet background but their speed is hectic.

     But regardless of which personality you have, everyone needs some quiet now and then. Some people like to avoid it because it keeps their minds away from things they don't want to consider. Other people like to think about those things until they can work out a solution. Either way, you can't run from those thoughts forever. Sooner or later, either you'll burn out and crash or you'll run out of things to do. 

     When something is wrong, take time. Think about it. Talk about it. Breath. Know that you are not alone and that things will be better, but relax. Tomorrow is another day and ask yourself, will it matter in a year or in ten? If it will, it might be important to seek professional help. If it won't, be confident in that knowledge and just enjoy the peace and quiet. Take time for yourself and enjoy a bath or a good book or a fancy dinner for one. You deserve it.

P.S. I wasn't expecting the post to turn out like this, but I like it.

Friday, April 18, 2014

P is for Poetry

     I rarely write poems and its even rarer that I show them to anyone. They're usually written about things that are personal or emotional to me, if I don't know how else to vent my emotions. 

     If I had to describe my style, I would use two words: "blunt" and "emotional". I'm not the kind of person who comes up with clever phrases and metaphors. I say if like it is and if I'm upset, you can bet your ass that it's going to be dark and probably disturbing. I was going to share a poem or two today but I'm chickening out. 

     Most of you are professional writers and read as though your life depends on it. Considering I'm an angsty wreck when I write poetry, that's nerve wracking. It's scary enough to have somebody judging what you create but when what you created is raw emotion, it's absolutely terrifying. Once the Challenge is over, I'll chill out and start sharing more things I've written. I actually already have a plan for my Halloween post for this year.

     Until then, leave me links of poetry that you enjoy. Free is preferred because food and rent come before reading material right now, but if it costs money, you can totally buy it for me or send me the link anyways and I'll buy it when I can.

     Good night, ya'll.

     (I'm the only one at my new job who says "ya'll" when speaking to customers and I realized just how southern I can really sound.)

Thursday, April 17, 2014

O is for Other "Kid" Stories

     The quotation marks are because this is not a kid friendly story. It happened when I was fourteen, almost fifteen, but I didn't have anything for this post and I promised a few people that I would tell this story (and then I forgot). Improvisation! If you want kid-friendly stories about me as a kid, you can check my K post over in the archives since I get to type this masterpiece from my phone. I know it's long and people are short on time, so feel free to bookmark this and come back. It's like an action movie. My order may be a bit off but my mom said it sounds about right and its 100% true.

     It started when my mom and I got home from the store on a Friday afternoon. She drove around the trailer park to make sure all was quiet and on the way to our trailer, we saw a pregnant woman charging her phone on the outdoor office outlet. Naturally, we stopped with a sort of "Um... Who the heck are you...?" sort of approach.

     "I'm sorry! My phone is dead. My roommates are supposed to be here but they were delayed and I don't have any power in our trailer yet. They were supposed to get it but my bus came in late so I couldn't go get it myself." She was maybe three or four months pregnant, it was about 100 degrees outside, and we felt bad for her.

     I don't remember all of the details but we let her sleep on the couch that night. The next morning, I was woken by a phone call from a male friend who I never really talked to, telling me our mutual friend seriously needed to talk to me without her dad overhearing. I went across the street and used the neighbor's computer. It turned out, the mutual friend claimed something very bad happened to her and I insisted that she go to the police. She said that she did but we were still terrified for her safety.

     Our houseguest spent the day back and forth between her trailer and ours. She said that she was cleaning and waiting to hear back from the roommates, a call that never came. It seemed like she was being stuck with a trailer that she didn't have a job to pay for, even though she had random twenty dollar bills to chip in when she went grocery shopping with Mom as a "thank you".

     Saturday night, while still trying to handle the news that one of my best friends could be attacked again, we heard sirens. Mom was on-site manager so she had to check it out. Imagine our surprise when my mom disappeared with the only cell phone, right into the midst of the action, while the houseguest, my neighbor (from my J post), and I were left trying to get around the cops to make sure that she was okay.

     I decided that no, fuck that shit, that was my mother and they could shoot my if they wanted to but I was going to make sure that she was okay. Then I had cops start screaming at me to get back because there was a drug raid going on and they didn't know if things would get violent. "Excuse me, but I'm trying to find my mother." I retorted. (I'm such a badass, huh?) The cop pointed and I looked behind me. My mom was walking away from the trailer, carrying The Big Dog who only weighed 30 pounds at the time.

     With The Big Dog safely rescued, since Mom had been the one to give him to the drug dealer (I had a bad feeling about him- she didn't), we went home. We fed The Big Dog half a package of hotdogs (slowly), gave him three bowls of water, and had to treat a crack pipe burn (identified by the houseguest) in between his shoulder blades.

     The next morning, Sunday, we hoped things were calm. The houseguest spent a lot of time going back and forth between her trailer and ours (where it was upwards of 100 degrees inside). Mom went to check on her and said that she heard noises coming from inside.

     That night, the fun continued. By "fun", I mean our houseguest, my mom, a local druggie, and me were involved in a car chase.

     It started by the houseguest and I taking Mom's car to make sure the park was quiet. It wasn't. I'm still not sure what exactly happened. One second, we saw a drug deal going down and I said to just drive away and Mom agreed from the phone (where we were updating her). The next second, she was screaming at them and the driver was reaching into his door. The houseguest slammed her foot on the gas and we saw my mom running down the street, holding on to the local nice guy do-gooder who was hooked on prescriptions after being hurt.

     The truck pulled up next to us and my mom started screaming, "Back the fuck off my daughter" and various other similar things. Nice guy drug user shoved my mom into the car in such a way it was practically kidnapping and the truck driver looked me dead in the eye, "Your momma is a bitch". I wasn't bad ass enough to say that he was too, that I knew, or anything at all. I just got into the car and houseguest started driving again. The truck followed us around the park so we left.

     Both cell phones were used to call the police and the houseguest started driving to the closest police station. At one point, we were stopped at a red light with cars in front of us and as it turned green, the we watched the truck doors start to open. I was slammed back into my seat with how fast the car started moving. We turned into the police station and they kept driving. One of the cops from the drug busts was pulling out as we were pulling in.

     "Did you just call?"

     "Yeah. That truck. In the parking lot across the street. Hurry the fuck up."

     We saw flashing lights swarm around the vehicle while we drove in a different direction. When we got home, I was still shaking but I dialed Sissi's number, since I couldn't make sense of what had just happened.

     "Sissi? You are not going to believe this shit. I hope you're sitting down."

     After that, the houseguest was kindly asked to leave and she went to the opposite side of the state to the beach. Nobody ever took the trailer so Mom had to check the condition of it. She found a list of at least twenty men from the park and we realized the houseguest was prostituting herself. I also found out about three months later, that the friend who had been attacked, had lied for attention and retracted everything but that resulted in her dad accusing me of lying and screaming at me so bad that I cried for three days and ended up emotionally numb for about two weeks. We aren't friends anymore, to say the least.

     So basically? That's a bunch of bullshit when we were trying to do a good deed. Right?

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

N is for Naps

     I'm about to go to bed. Tomorrow when I wake up, I think I will spend the day eating and napping.

     Today's post is brought to you by the letter N, sleepiness from cleaning all day before going to work, and pigging out on all of the free trainee food I have to learn.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

M is for Music

     I'm tired from a long day and then work. I wanted to do a playlist or link to the songs, but I'm too tired and don't have enough time before the day is over. Also, I had this nearly written before my phone crapped out and deleted it.

     I grew up with country and my mom slowly introducing 80's rock, before my friends introduced me to other types of rock. I now listen to rock at home and country at work, so that works out pretty well, but people say I either have weird taste or listen to weird music. Why? Rap is the most popular and I am not a fan of it at all. Music says a lot about a person so I selected random stations from Pandora and listed a bunch of songs that I like. If you want, I'm sure you can use YouTube to listen to any songs you don't know. (Some are favorites, some aren't, because I don't have the time to list all of my favorites.)

Life Is Beautiful by Sixx AM
Rocket by Def Leppard
Hang 'Me High by My Chemical Romance
Radioactive by Imagine Dragons
Postcard From Paris by The Band Perry
Don't You Wanna Stay by Jason Aldean and Kelly Clarkson
Sin For Sin by Miranda Lambert
Rain Is A Good Thing by Luke Bryan
Hard To Love by Lee Brice
Bully by Three Days Grace
The Kill by 30 Seconds To Mars
Rockstar by Nickleback
Cowboy Cassonova by Carrie Underwood
I Don't Want This Night To End by Luke Bryan (who's station I didn't pick but he popped up twice?)
Disenchanted by My Chemical Romance (see above)
Sugar, We're Going Down by Fall Out Boy
Face Down by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

     Eventually, I'll have a playlist with a bunch of music I love just so I can listen to it and share it with people to be like "turn the rap off, it's my turn with music".

Monday, April 14, 2014

L is for Love

     Another post suggested by Mercedes, though I've been planning to write about it for a while.

     There are several types of love. The way you love your pet isn't the same way you love your family and that isn't the same way you love your significant other. If if is, I recommend speaking with a councilor now, because that's unhealthy and also gross.

     I'm only going to talk about one type today: loving but hating. Originally, I was going to write about being in love, but I don't feel as though I can do it justice enough on my phone.

     For a long time, I hated myself because I couldn't hate my dad or his family after everything they've done. I don't like them, but I still love them. I used to be so angry that I couldn't just change how I felt, but over the years, I learned that its okay. Like it or not, they are my family and they had a hand in shaping who I am today, though it could have been a lot different without the good influences in my life.

     But it's okay that I can't hate them. It's even okay that I love them. I can be angry, I can cut off contact if it ever comes to that, and I don't have to like them or anything that they do.

     In order to be a healthy and well adjusted person, it's also important to forgive. I damn sure won't forget or trust them again, but forgiving them for whatever made them how they are, is the only way I've been able to let go of some of the anger and accept they it's okay to love the people I can't stand being around.

     I didn't even know I still loved my dad until I had a nightmare when I was about fifteen where he ended up in a coma and I woke up crying because I thought I would never speak to him again. I emailed him (he was out of the country) and he emailed back, much to my relief. That was when I realized I needed to forgive and accept, in order to move on.

     I started trying to make more contact with that side of my family, but they never kept it up, so I gave up. It hurt and it felt like rejection but then I knew, "This isn't my fault. My mom made efforts for me to be around them when I was little and I have now. Whatever they miss out on, is on them." It wasn't malicious, just the truth.

     I'm still working on the forgiveness part. I don't really know how to just let it go because I trained myself to hold grudges to be stronger. Grudges make you weaker and make you tired. Letting go but learning your lesson is what makes you stronger.

     For now, I accept when they want to talk. If they initiate a conversation, I'll do the same, but it always stops after that. I know it's not my fault now. For all the things in the past, all I can do is be thankful for where it took me. I'm not thankful for what they did or how they act, but for the things I learned and where I am now. And with that, forgiveness has slowly started to come naturally. And it's making me less angry at them and at myself, which leaves more room for happiness and love and hope.

     I don't know why I can't hate them. Some people reach a point of hating or just straight out not caring at all. I'm not sure why I can't. My mom just said, "You're related. You can't help it. Despite the bad, they did give you good memories, however few they are." If I had to say goodbye, it would hurt. I can't say it would hurt as much as if it was my mom or my sister or my boyfriend, but they are my family. I love them but I can't stand them. And this post makes so much less sense here than my head, I'm sorry.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

K is for Kid Stories

     I...was a weird child. You can ask my mother. She will tell you that I was not normal. You can also ask Sissi, who I stayed up on the phone every night with for like a week as we told embarrassing/stupid kid related things about ourselves. I'm not posting the most embarrassing ones today though. Maybe in the future. I have plenty more but only two for today. One funny and one that makes me smile.

     At first, I was terrified of the water because of things I won't get into in this post. I ended up going to swimming classes when I was six or so. When I did, I wouldn't go under water until I had been to several classes. Once I was used to that, I was over my fear.

     In that same summer, I fell in love with the water and with the idea of mermaids. I'm pretty sure that same summer, Uncle BS and my grandparents took me to Sea World. We went in a submarine and saw giant rings in the water. I asked what they were and my uncle said, "Those are for the mermaids to play with. You can't see them now because they went some place else to hide from humans." In a Texas lake, but it made total sense to me.

     I was totally convinced mermaids were real and I wanted to be a mermaid why were my parents human. So like any other kid, I pretended to be what I wanted to be, by swimming basically every day in my grandparents' pool or trying to swim in the bathtub. My uncle would swim with me and he was the only one who would entertain me instead of just agreeing with whatever I said. He helped me make up the stories. It was amazing until a story we made up involved sharks in the middle of the pool, at the deepest part. I knew that they weren't there. I could see they weren't there. I still felt like they were there and stayed in the shallow end after that.

Stray Animals
     What do parents and schools teach about stray animals? I don't know about now, but when I was a kid, they taught to get into the fetal position with our hands over our heads and to hide our faces if we ever saw a stray. I thought adults were stupid. I never once listened to that.

     At one point, when I was seven or eight, my friend and I found a small stray dog running in my yard. We were across the street in her yard so what did we do? We went back to my house, I knelt down with her hiding behind me, and I called the dog over. I was too small to lift him so I held his collar and read the tag. He lived on our street, so it became my mission to return him home. I convinced my friend he was a good dog and went inside my house to get a leash and permission to go down the street.

     Once I had both, my friend and I started walking. We weren't allowed to go behind our street but according to the numbers, that's where his house was, so we got three houses down before a huge black truck pulled up and a guy stopped next to us. My first assumption was I was about to be kidnapped and I should have listened to my mother. A man opened his window and said that was his dog. So I said, "He came to my house so we're trying to bring him back." The dog hopped into the car, the man thanked us, and we ran back to our house because we had expected a nice lady to talk to, not a big scary guy in a huge black truck.

     A few weeks later, a stray cat came to my next door neighbor's house. He looked like he hadn't eaten for a while so what did we do? We got some cat food and since he wouldn't let us close, we set up a Roadrunner-Wild E Coyote type of trail, only it didn't result in the cat being blown up, poisoned, or eaten. It just led to us and a pile of food.

     And guess what?

     It fucking worked.

     My friend and I co-owned that cat after that. He would be at my house every morning where we would be and then follow us around between houses. He let us pet him that first day and let us do whatever we wanted after that. He was a major part of our games and by the end of the month, he had other houses in the neighborhood feeding him, but he still chose to be victim to two eight year old girls with very active imaginations.

Friday, April 11, 2014

J is for Jennifer

     Warning to new readers: This post is going to be ranty, angry, and probably full of curse words. Proceed with caution or check out my super sappy F post.

     Ohhh! I am name dropping now! No, not Jennifer Lopez or anybody famous. I'm just talking about the crazy bitch who's causing hell in my mom's life right now.

     Let's start at the beginning, when I was fifteen (keep in mind, I will be 21 later this year). I used to babysit for Jennifer. She has four daughters, but only three live with her because the oldest realizes what a crazy bitch she is. Her house was always filthy and her kids were never bathed properly, so while I was there, I always did what I could to help, for the sake of the girls.

     I stopped helping on the day that I did the dishes, per her request and promise of extra money, but found a lot of rice in the sink. Was it rice? No. It was maggots. Maggots that crawled up my arms and caused me to hyperventilate and have a panic attack, call my next door neighbor (we lived down the street from Jennifer), and then have her occupy the girls while I tried to disinfect the baby bottle that the maggots came out of. When I told her what happened, she wasn't even surprised.

     The laundry room was right behind our trailer, so my mom and I went to get laundry one day. If its in your backyard, why bring an ID, right? Wrong. A cop stopped her and said, "Excuse me, do you live in trailer 13?" At the time we did, so we nodded. "Jennifer, I'm going to need you to come with me." He said, as he reached for his handcuffs.

     Hold the fuck up. "Um, that's not her name. Her name is -withheld because she is my mother and doesn't need a creepy person contacting her-." The cop looked over at me. "Do you have ID?" He asked. "No. Our trailer is ten feet away. We can get it right now and prove it though." My mom told him. He looked at his paper and sighed. "Ma'am, can I have your social security number?" She recited it and he typed it into his computer. "Young lady, can you tell me her birthday?" I did and he seemed satisfied with that.

     "Do you know why Jennifer -last name I won't post even though I want to because of legal shit- is using your address as her own?" He asked us. He showed us the picture and I blinked. My babysitting boss? The mother of three girls? If she needed to go to jail, then I was scared she abused the girls. "Her lot is 133 and she lives down that street. I babysit for her." I told him. The idea that my mother almost got arrested was pretty terrifying to me, especially because that meant I would be taken by the state and then sent to live with my dad's family, until the mess was straightened out.

     Jennifer was arrested for doing illegal drug things but got out on bail and took a bunch of classes that seemed to turn her life around. Key word? Seemed.

     Fast forward five years.

     Jennifer's husband started working in the office with my mom, Mr Fix-It, and their boss. Within three months, he had the park owner (the paranoid, money hungry, guy with Alzheimer's) in a money hungry craze from over spending on the budget without permission. Mr Fix-It was fired and within the week of me moving, and knowing that I was moving, so was my mom.

     But it gets even worse.

     Now, Mr Greedy is trying to bribe my mom to move even though she does not have a job, because he believes that she's turning the tenants against him. Actually, when you charge a quarter per gallon of water instead of the standard nickle, that sort of takes care of it for you. Jennifer is still feeding lies into the office and has the new girl happily sending out violations that The Big Dog is outside.

     The Big Dog is outside two to three times a day, for no more than an hour at a time. His chain is about twenty feet long. Since he was poisoned by somebody before, he won't eat or drink anything outside. He just knocks over the bowls. He is only outside now for about ten minutes at a time, because Jennifer is a crazy bitch.

     She called animal services on him and he was almost taken away. The animals were just coming up on shot updates so Mom had to pay for three dogs and two cats to get that and new tags, plus invest in super heavy bowls that The Big Dog will knock over anyways just to not have them taken away. But it doesn't stop there, since now The Big Dog is basically always inside, he's becoming a brat and won't listen because he has too much energy. Even though he's not outside anymore, my mom is still getting violations saying that he is. Each violation is $100.

     Why is all this happening?

     Well, apparently, Jennifer is going around telling everyone, "I knew I would get payback for when she didn't get arrested for me. It took time but I finally got her back."

     Crazy. Fucking. Bitch.

     I hope she has child service's catch her with a sink full of maggots again. She doesn't deserve to be a parent. She's too fucking insane.

I is for Irritating Things

     You can thank Mercedes for this topic.

     There are plenty of things in the world that are irritating but these are some of the fastest ways to irritate me and make me want to sick my little dog on you. He's loud and he's very bitey.

Sunburn Poking- Not funny, just painful. Chances are, I will actually punch you if you ever do this to me.

Bad Tipping- If I mess up, I expect a bad tip, but when I know I gave you the best service possible, a bad tip is basically you saying "sorry, your time and energy isn't good enough for me".

My Phone- It's deleted all my contacts multiple times, spontaneously restarts itself, dies like four times a day, and just generally does everything possible to make me want to throw it out the window.

Bugs- I like butterflies and ladybugs, outside and not in swarms (except the butterfly tents). Nowhere else please. It just means me getting a shoe and murdering something with lots of legs.

Stairs- I live on the third floor. Grocery shopping has become very unpleasant, very quickly.

Grocery Shopping- Actually, I never enjoyed this to begin with. I'm not good at it and please.

Brats- There is a huge difference between the 'terrible two' stage where the kids are frustrated about being unable to communicate than the kid being a straight out terror of a brat. Learn it.

Jeans Shopping- Where can I buy jeans that fit? I've been all over the place and none of them fit me. The closest I found were too tight at a size 5, but didn't have a size up until like size 14. I would like to clothe the lower half of my body.

Dress Shoe Shopping- Basically the same as above. Plus, they can possibly be cute and comfy? No? Figures.

Constant Negativity- Ha. Coming from me, right? I actually do try to stay positive and happy most of the time. Right now, I'm sunburned and grouchy though. Also, I'm bitchy. Ironic, huh?

Styrofoam Squeaking- That sound makes me want to punch somebody in the throat. Don't do it. Ever.

Here, Smell This- And then it stinks.

Here, Taste This- And it tastes horrible or its something gross you did not want to eat. (Mom.)

Job Assessment Tests- I completely understand why these exist but I had to take two for my mom, via phone, on the laptop hooked to the TV set up today. It took two hours. I did a lot of math.

Math- I'm learning though, thanks to Sissi and Tina. (Tina from the A-Z Challenge who I want to link to but I can't because I'm on my phone.)

It's 12:06- I haven't gone to bed yet so this post is not late by my standards.

     Tomorrow will be a super ranty angry personal update post that should help explain some of my angsty attitude lately. See you then!

Thursday, April 10, 2014

H is for Hey Pretend Its Yesterday

     Can we just pretend that it's the 9th again? Please? I was going to write about hope but I can't move my shoulders and need a bath so I'm turning this into a "I'm sunburned and ouchy" sort of post.

     "Oh, use aloe!"

     No thanks, since I'm allergic to aloe. Last time I used it, it felt like I was burned with fire. I'm also allergic to cocoa butter, which like aloe, are in 99% of sunscreens. I need to find that 1% left since I now live in the desert.

     Warning: Ew things in the next paragraph.

     I have never been this badly burned. I have yellow blisters about the size of my fist on the back of my shoulders and smaller ones on the tops of my shoulders. My right foot and leg and left ankle swelled up last night. And I am so red that people have flinched when they see me. Since I can barely move, my muscles won't relax and they end up becoming incredibly tense so that I am in even more pain trying to move.

     So what have I been doing so that I don't die? Calling my medic grandpa for advice, mostly.

Baking Soda Baths: It will dry the absolute heck (look, language clean up so I don't offend new readers!) out of your skin and basically make you an alligator while using it. But it extracts heat and even if it stings some, it's generally very soothing in luke warm to cool water (think a pool in early summer or late spring). Use an entire small box or half a big box for a full bath. (Baking soda paste- the same but with less water- works for mild burns and allergic reactions on the skin also.)

Lotion or No: Aloe is typically the best thing to use but since I can't, I've always been told to use cucumber or vitamin e lotion. It does very little to help unless its pure, not lotion, because the lotion holds in heat. Sometimes it can be soothing on mild sunburns so I would use it. Do not use on severe sunburns. Ever. (Warning: Gross til the end of the paragraph.) Why? Well basically, it will act like a cooking oil and cause annoying little bug bite sorts of feelings... which are not bug bites but actually your skin sizzling and frying.

Tea Baths: I haven't been able to do this one yet but basically, make about two gallons of unsweetened herbal tea (I assume peppermint tea isn't a good choice). Let it cool and then pour it into a tub full of cool to luke warm water. It's supposed to help soothe the pain. The problem with that for me is that I can't lift my arms high enough and my boyfriend is sick so he needs to be in bed.

Other Tips: Stay in cooler rooms, especially if you can have a fan on you.
Wear light, thing, airy, baggy clothes if you must but its better not to wear any at all.
The same goes for sleeping; a sheet is best if you can manage it.
Don't go outside unless you absolutely must.
Wear sunscreen (after the burns are healed or it might sting- it does to me at least).
Once the redness is gone, load yourself up on lotion to help get your skin healthy.
Tylenol, ibruoeofen, Motrin, etc. can help with some of the pain but follow those directions specifically or take less if you cannot handle the full recommended dose. Seriously, don't get me in trouble.
Stay hydrated. Put down your diet coke or whatever that is. Ice water, cold juice, and some tea are good but carbonated drinks are not because that affects the bloodstream.
If you get a spray bottle and wash it out, then fill it with ice water, you can spray the burn. It's easier than using a washcloth to lay it across the burn, but that also works as long as you regularly rewet it with ice water.
Do not wrap the burns unless a doctor says so because that will hold in heat.
If you do go see a doctor, ignore everything that I've said in this entire post and do as they tell you because I am not a trained medical professional. My grandpa was a medic bit his advice is specific to me and I'm only sharing what works for me specifically, he has no idea this blog even exists.
(Warning, icky again until the last paragraph.)
Don't pop the blisters. It's your body trying to help heal itself.
If a body part swells, get it above your heart (I was laying like a 90's valley girl on the phone for two hours last night since I couldn't lay on my back and then I propped my feet up on a pillow to sleep on my stomach).
Don't scrub the burn in the bath. (I use a washcloth, put a gentle soap on it and get it foamy, and then squeeze it over the burn. It helps ease the pain.)

     Like I said, listen to a doctor. I'm not a medical expert and my grandpa only gave advice to me. Normally I don't need all sorts of disclaimers but this has medical things. I really am very sorry for missing this post but I'm not willing to give up yet, so I'll be back later today with an I post.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

G is for Gardening

     This is another post that Mercedes suggested for me. I'm sorry I've been slow on comments. Wolfy is sick, I've been preparing to start a new job tomorrow (btw, I got the job!), and I am severely sunburned to the point I can barely move (please don't suggest aloe- I'm allergic to that and cocoa butter).

     But gardening... I'm both very good at if and very bad. I personally think that it's funny how I can be both.

     Did anyone else have to do the projects in school where they grew a plant with a seed, a wet paper towel, and a ziplock bag? When we did that, my little plant always grew extremely fast and would usually end up being one of the largest plants out of the class.

     Later on, my mom had a bunch of plastic cups and some left over dirt and seeds, but I don't remember what from. Maybe a garden at our house? I remember only planting them with supervision because we had a problem with tarantulas and little brown snakes that resembled worms, plus copperheads at a neighbor's house.

     I didn't have much luck with it outside, probably because I forgot about them, but I had about 20 plastic cups all around my room in the windows. Every single one had rather large flowers starting to bloom before we had to move. It was actually quite shocking since I did the work myself (it was part of the deal to give me the supplies, that it was my responsibility) and I don't remember doing much.

     Cut to several years later and we went in the trailer park. It wasn't a nice one when my mom took it over and other than cutting the grass that the owner pretended we even had, the people living on the lot had to do it themselves. So I bought a bunch of seeds, some soil, and got to work. It took me hours digging up everything (autocorrect tried to say "everyone"). I got extremely hot even though it was early spring. I was so proud.

     Then a bad storm came and washed everything away. By the time we realized the seeds were gone, we had storms every week so it was pointless to try again. We bought a rose bush and even that couldn't survive the harsh rain.

     The next year, the same damn thing happened. You might have heard about those storms. The April 27 tornado outbreak that left people without power for days or weeks (we were five days). I'd spent close to $40 on the area, not including a small wooden fence to keep bratty kids out of it, that said bratty kids kicked over because they were in serious need of a spanking (and that's coming from somebody who says that's only saved for severe things).

     Year three and I gave up. I planned on moving soon anyways. It was pointless to me. Wanna guess what happened? The pot with the rose bush popped up with flowers. I never planted flower seeds in it, only the rose bush. In the garden? A flower in each corner and weeds. I just kind of threw my hands up, looked at the plants that were mocking me, and said "You win. I give up. You're on your own."

Monday, April 7, 2014

F is for Family

     This is actually a topic that I picked by myself! With all the shit happening lately, I've been trying to remember to be thankful for what I have. Specifically, my family. So I thought I would list some people who deserve a thank you. Don't even get me started with extended family like aunts and uncles and cousins or my phone will probably break.

Momma: She raised me, basically on her own. There were times we didn't know where we would be or what we would eat the next day. And she always made sure that I was taken care of.

Daddy: I am not close with him now, nor have I ever been, and I doubt I will ever be. But I know he does love me in his single cell of a heart and he may not have raised me, but he forced me to be strong and to learn fast, just to survive. I can be angry or I can be thankful, and I am tired of being angry.

Grandma and Grandpa: Mom's mom and stepdad, but I have never once doubted they would be there for me. We've gotten closer recently, now that I understand we were raised by different generations, and I'm happy for that.

Memaw and Pawpaw: Dad's parents, who I haven't been close with since I was a toddler, but I know they would be there if I needed them. They helped get me through the loss of my uncle when I was a teenager, when nobody seemed to understand.

Sissi: Not actually my sister, but she's been there for me since I was 13. That's 7 years as of this summer. She has no problem telling me when I'm wrong, she's teaching me math, and she has supported me through my worst years.

Brother: Also my friend since I was 13. He's younger than I am but he looks out for me like he's the older brother. If I mess up, I'm willing to bet that he'll fix the problem and then make fun of me.

Ashley: One of my best friends for years who can't get a common cold but needs Dr House to fix her. Out of everyone I know, she is the worst texter, but the first person willing to be my cell mate in prison, which I think says a lot.

Mercedes: Another of my best friends for the past few years. She always as something going on in her life that doesn't give her peace but she jumps at the chance to help me and others.

Emily: Boy crazy, caffeine addicted, crazy girl with the attention span of a gnat. But probably the sweetest person I have ever met, despite knowing everything that goes on in the real world.

Wolfe: I saved him for last because I figured I would have trouble ending at just one paragraph. He's been my roommate for nearly six months, my boyfriend for nearly two years, and my best friend for going on four years. He can read me better than anyone and can make me smile faster than everyone. Since I've been here, he's taken care of me more than himself and if I'm not smiling enough, he stops what he's doing to change that. He holds the door but won't hold my purse again. He puts the toilet seat down but says he'll laugh if I fall in. Normally, I tell my friends that their boyfriend acts like their Prince Charming. I won't say that for my boyfriend because I think I get to say, "Ha my boyfriend is better than yours!"

     If I wanted to add other friends to this list, I would never sleep. In November, I plan to do NaBloPoMo with a theme of what I'm thankful for, so you will most likely get a full friends list then.

     Just... Thank you. I've been through hell and back and had life turned every which way. And thank you.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

E is for Eating

     Another post from Mercedes' Choice after she rescued my chance to do the Challenge this year, by providing me with new topics after I accidentally deleted all of the ones I had.

     It was suggested I put a warning here. This topic is about eating disorders, weight loss, weight gain, and the like. Please do not read ahead if it could trigger anything with you.

     Eating is a good thing and you should do it. It's basically that simple, but I know there are plenty of people out there who struggle with it.

     I have never had an eating disorder, but my weight has been all over the place since I was a pre-teen. The first time, I was about 9-12 and I was so stressed out, that eating food did not help me gain weight. I ate food, but my weight dropped, but nobody knew why. Once we moved and were out of reach (except by phone) from my dad and his family, we figured out what was wrong.

     The fear and stress of what his family does, made it impossible to gain weight. Some people get stressed and gain, I got stressed and lost. For my height, I should have been about 95-100 pounds. Not long before we moved, I weighed in at 77. My mom freaked out and accused me of having an eating disorder. She began monitoring my food intake and would buy sodas and cookies and chips, since regular food wasn't doing the trick, but it didn't work.

     Then we moved right before my 12th birthday. I had a friend, who isn't my friend anymore but was the best friend I could have asked for at that time, help me calm down. She helped me realize that there wasn't any danger anymore. And I started to gain weight. By the end of the school year, I could wear a size 4 (which was about where I needed to be since that was the second to last time that I also got taller) without it falling off my hips.

     The problem was, once my body started gaining weight, it didn't want to stop. I ended up at 135 when I was 14, which was not where I needed to be yet. I should have been 110 or so. I ended up in a size 6 when I was 15 and it stayed steady for a while. I was chubby for my height, but I was hitting my final growth spurt, so the chubbiness went where it was supposed to... for a while. I wasn't exactly happy, seeing all the 110 pound girls my age when I weighed more, but I was okay. Until I started gaining again, despite no real change in anything.

     I ended up about 145-150 and almost a size 9 before I decided that was enough. I had officially reached the "overweight" range instead of just "oh its just a little chubbiness". I changed what I could, but I also got a babysitting job. That alone made me start running around to keep up with three kids, so the weight started coming back off. Then I went a few months without a job and it came back. Then I started working in a restaurant.

     I only worked a few days a week, but I noticed a change anyways, especially once my hours increased. From October until the next May, I went from a loose size 9 down to a loose size 7. I ended up back at a size 6, but that's where I need to be with my height and body type now. I was perfectly happy with it.

     Back in the last week of February, I found out I was 110. I knew I lost weight again (stress and loss of appetite this time around) but I hadn't realized it was so much. I lost 25 pounds and ended up 10 pounds under the absolute minimum weight I can be and be healthy. I've started gaining some weight back since then. I'm not sure of the actual number at the moment, but my jeans are still loose, but they're not falling off my hips anymore.

     My point of this post, is I understand weight struggles and though I've never had an eating disorder, I understand the need to do anything to make yourself feel better, but not having a healthy diet isn't a good choice.

     I don't even believe in diets, actually, unless your medical doctor puts you on one for medical reasons. I believe in balanced eating. Like the food pyramid that we were taught in elementary school. Vegetables, fruits, grains, and meats for every non-vegetarian and non-vegan out there. A full meal of food, three times a day, maybe with some dessert or a snack if you get hungry again. However, I also believe that you should be physically active. That should naturally counter a balanced diet, so that you stay at a healthy weight and have a healthy life.

     If you don't eat, if you force yourself to throw up, or if you eat insane amounts of food to where you get sick- you are giving your life to the eating disorder and whatever caused it. You are giving up everything you have, because if you don't get it under control, you will die. And then, even if you don't care if you hurt yourself, you cannot imagine how much you will hurt the people who love you. Do you really want them all to think "I wish I could have saved him/her." or "I didn't realize they were so sick. I should have paid more attention and done something."

     Let me put it this way:
     If you don't fight to be healthy, then who or what caused the eating disorder will win and they will have successfully made sure that you can't come back stronger than ever. You're strong enough to have survived this far and you are the only one who can save yourself now. Don't you dare let something like food ruin everything for you.

P.S. Here is the phone number to NEDA 
1-800-931-221-800-931-2237 or you can go to and find a local support group.
The suicide hotline number in the US is 
The suicide hotline number in the UK is 
+44 (0) 8457 90 90 90+44 (0) 8457 90 90 90 (local rate) or
+44 (0) 8457 90 91 92+44 (0) 8457 90 91 92 (minicom)
 If you have any other numbers, treatment centers, or websites from your part of the world, please comment them below and say where it works for. You could save a life.

Friday, April 4, 2014

D is for Driving

     This is one of the posts Mercedes picked, to help make up for my stupidity of accidentally deleting all of my preplanned topics.

     When I was twelve, my mom had an old Buick that she taught me how to drive. We were out in the country, so far out, that people used to go camping in that area. It was a tiny hicktown that nobody ever heard of, that you can't find on a map, but we were there less than a year. While there, we were so far from the hospital as well as reliable family or friends, that she taught me how to drive the car in case there was an emergency. (Did I mention it's a hicktown so cell service is basically non-existent?)

     I really only knew the basics. Gas pedal, brake pedal, how to turn the wheel, that sort of thing. I couldn't have told you what any street signs meant, aside from the MPH ones, considering there just weren't any out there.

     We moved before my next birthday, to a big city. The worst part in the city as for crime (I was once involved in a car chase, a drug bust, and other drama all in one weekend- come back for my O post for actual details). Since there were actually cops always being called always in the area, I wasn't allowed to drive, for obvious "please don't arrest me" reasons.

     I started bugging her around the time I was fifteen to reteach me how to drive, but then our car not only completely died, but went away and was never heard from again (we sold it for parts)... And there wasn't a new car to be found for two years. I was pissed. I was already out of public school, I wasn't legally allowed to work yet, and I didn't have any friends left in the state anymore. That was my only chance (in my eyes) to do something a normal teenager would.

     When she finally got a new car when I was seventeen, she still wouldn't teach me how to drive. All she did was let me drive the trailer park that we lived in (and she used to manage- oh so much drama with that, but so many legal reasons I can't talk about it now). I didn't even get my state ID until one week before I flew to a different state to see Sissi. I didn't even have the plastic copy. They almost didn't let me go home because all I had was a paper copy and nothing else to prove I'm me.

     I drove that damn park for a year before she let me get my permit. I had black hair so it was sometime when I was eighteen or maybe just turned nineteen. And then she would just tell me to take the keys and go do what I needed to do- never mind the fact that I didn't know enough about the road signs and I wasn't allowed to drive more than 15 MPH in the park (which was technically speeding).

     My old manager yelled at her when I didn't have a ride home from work one day. Not only was I taught to drive within the month, but I had my driver's license last summer, within two or three months of the yelling.

     The instructor actually said, "You only got an 86 on the test, which means you passed, but it also means you're rusty or you don't have much experience. Are you able to drive a lot?" He looked over at my mother, who appeared to be having a panic attack. "Nope." I replied. He looked at my mom again. "Let me talk to her." And so he did.

     After that, I was able to drive myself, which was good since I worked 20 minutes away from home. I didn't make enough money for any other mode of transportation and I had no idea I had a friend who lived about ten minutes from me (and that another one moved there a week after I moved here). I was also sent grocery shopping or to pick up whatever was needed. I only ever took the car twice to do fun things, unless I was going back to the restaurant to meet friends.


     As I said, I discovered that I hate driving. I won't speed because I've only driven the freeway twice (once with my mom, once by accident when I got lost for one of the fun things and I almost started crying) so I'm not used to driving above 45MPH anyways. If I don't have every aspect of the road memorized, I stress the fuck out.

     Not to mention, people are idiots. The last time I drove, on the way back from the second fun thing and during a light rainstorm, some asshole cut me off three different time within thirty seconds. We almost crashed each time and I was forced to run a redlight since I couldn't stop without causing a serious wreck. That was before I moved. I've never driven Wolfy's car because I can walk basically where I need to go, or I don't know how to get there. I hate driving now, especially because people here are even worse drivers, and I really don't want a repeat of The Driving Dumbass.