Outdone by my own Creativity

So that guy that I mentioned I liked? Still like him. He's still a great guy, and I'm still forever trying to read him. Every sentence that comes out of his mouth gets analyzed, re-analyzed, set aside, then analyzed again. I keep trying to find his motivation, his internal plans, his quiet feelings.
We went out to a movie once, I've hung out and watched t.v. one other time with him, and I understand he's busy, but I'm just so flippin' paranoid.
I don't drink, smoke, do drugs, have sex, go party, etc. He was the first guy in all my eighteen (nearly nineteen) years that I've ever gone on a date with, hopefully the first guy I kiss, but I can't help panicking.
What could a guy like him, see in a girl like me? I'm so 'clean' it's not even funny and I'm not at all like his last girlfriend. I'm not saying I'm a bad bet, but what would you think in my position? I'm 'corruptible' and he's a nice guy who doesn't seem the 'corrupting' type, you get me? Plus he goes to bars with friends, and I don't have a problem with that okay? I don't have a problem with drinking, he's legal after all, but I can't go can I? That's one of his favorite past times and I can't even go. What does that say?
In my mind, I see all the best possible outcomes, and I mean those far out ones too. The ones where he loves me, where we're dating, where he meets my family. Maybe that tells you that I want that, and so what if I do? It's not a crime.
And I'm not saying it has to be him. I'm not saying I love him even because I don't, plain and simple. I admire him, sure. Think he's a great guy, like him a lot too, but I don't love him. I don't want him to meet my family. I just like the fantasies. I've also mentally created all of the possible bad outcomes. The ones where he just doesn't want to hurt my feelings, where he's gay, he's married (not really all that likely) or dating someone else no one knows about. The ones where this is all an elaborate joke, something to laugh about later. "Look what I got her to do this time!"

Point is, I can't take the not knowing, the uncertainty. I just want to know what's what. I want to know what he's thinking and feeling at this point. I want to know if I mean something of any remote value to him, not much just a speck. Is that too much to ask? Why are guys so complicating?

So What if I do?

So what if I like you? So what if you're all I think about? So what if you're the only person I really want to talk to all day? So what if it irritates me that you haven't responded? That I'm struggling to accept that you're not avoiding me (though I'm convinced you are), that you're just busy? So what if I'm obsessed?
That's my personality. I assume the worst and freak out until proven wrong. If you don't like me and I was right? If you really are avoiding me? Well I'll get over it. I'm not in love, I'm not fantasizing about love, I just want to talk to you. I admit that I obsess, I admit that I'm not totally confident.
If you don't like me, tell me. If you do, show me. I need to be shown, I need it proven.

The Truth the Whole Truth...And A Few Bonus Features

So after embarrassing myself and telling this guy that I liked him (in the funniest way possible), he said that he'd like to take me 'for a night on the town'. Except he gave me some general statement, and no round about date...and he hasn't talked to me since. Mayhaps he hasn't had time to text, but in my 'writer' mind I've already come up with a thousand reasons why, and only two of them are good. Here's the list of possibilities;

• He dropped his phone in the toilet
• He ran over his phone
• He was just being nice and he doesn't actually want to go out with me***(winner)
• I somehow managed to change his mind at my response to HIS response.
• I've already annoyed him to death
• This is all some game, he wanted to see if I'd admit I liked him and he's in cahoots with Brandon.
• He is actually secretly married/dating someone.
• I'm not his type.
• He decided we're way too different to make it work.
• He overdosed on drugs and no one has thought to tell me.
• I'm over reacting and he just didn't have time (I do not think so, but everyone else seems to want to give him the benefit of the doubt).

Those are the reasons I have come up with...so maybe I'm not as self-confident as I should be...not my fault. Also, I lied to him about my sister eating all my milkduds...there's still a box left. But I couldn't exactly say, "My sister ate ALMOST all of my milkduds" could I?

Outsmarted by the Master

So I've been trying to save my money so that I can get this year of college paid for, but I've been spending said money like mad. I had $12 in my pocket this morning to buy matches for class, but then ended up mooching some off of dad. I thought, 'Hey great! Now I can buy lunch!' And then as I was getting out of the car to rush off to class, I took the money OUT of my pocket because I decided the temptation was too strong, and I really should save the money.
Three hours later, I walk out of lab, walk into the union, grab a bagel and milk and head for check out. Only of course I don't have my money because I knew beforehand that that would happen. I can't believe I fell for that...

Those Damned Depressing Thoughts Again

They've come back again, not that I should really be all that shocked. Those thoughts that everyone has, that everyone worries about...probably. What happens when the years pass and I'm still by myself? I don't mean that I don't really enjoy hanging out with my friends, or that I'm faking it when I'm smiling and laughing with them, I mean that there are still things that I want to experience and they're not happening.
No one shows interest, and if they do (I can think of like two) I panic and back away like they have some horrible disease. Granted, I didn't really see myself with those guys anyway. I'm having those panicked thoughts that I'm going to settle because I was to scared to voice my admiration for the guy I really liked.
Are you picking up what I'm laying down? (Sorry, I felt like no one uses that phrase anymore and it's a damn shame.) I want someone to come show an interest. To show me I'm not some whacked out psycho and that guys really can like me. Please.

If owning a pencil makes you a writer, then this football makes me a football player

I try to be supportive in everyone's dreams and ideas, but I hate when I tell people about an idea I have for a story and all of the sudden they're writers and they have a great idea for a book too. Writing is the one thing I've never grown tired of. The one think I work at, take classes for and stress over. You can't just walk up to me and say, "You write? Me too! Or well...I have an idea for a story, I just haven't had time to write it out, but I have a great idea for one!"
When you tell me you're going to be a surgeon, you don't hear me saying, "Yeah? I happen to be a very good sewer, I could sew people up too." To assume that what I do is child's play is like saying you think I'm of little importance.
I read, I learn and I experiment constantly. My stories are never finished and I'm constantly looking for a way to dive into a different genre. Everything I do is to help me with my next story. Point of view, plot formation, folklore, popular culture, foreign language, television viewing, chemistry...eventually it is all tied into something for me.
These people don't do this stuff. For most of them, their knowledge on point of view doesn't go beyond first person and third person, the stuff we learned in third grade. And the idea of plot is simply rising action, climax, and falling action. Second person may as well be non-existent, metaphors and alliterations belong in poetry, and as long as they have character dialogue and throw in as many descriptive words as possible, the story's going to be great.
Subtlety is lost on them, metaphors aren't used and their description of anything is in list format instead of sprinkled throughout the story like chocolate chips in a chocolate chip cookie. no one wants a cookie where all the chips are concentrated in the middle. We call that a screw up.
Granted I tend to take metaphors and alliterations for granted. As always, alliterations are just things that happen in whatever I'm writing (and if you caught that I used it in the beginning of the sentence, then congrats).
The point is, I know how to use them and I'm fairly certain that I use them well when I do use them. Writing is an art form. You don't just pick up a brush and paint a Monet, and you don't just pick up a quill and write like Shakespeare.

When the Hell Did I Cross to this Parallel Universe and How Do I Get Back?

I was followed today by a man with a beard and he wore a dark cloak that went down to his ankles. He was whistling 'It's a Small World' and eating cherry pie. After about five minutes I finally got fed up and turned around to confront the creeper whose name turned out to be Alex...what an un-stalkerish name to have. Now Jason...that's a good stalker name. I'm just saying.
Ha ha, I'm just kidding. I haven't been stalked of late, however there had been a woman walking behind me while whistling creepily and I felt as though she were stalking me. She wasn't of course, but that's paranoia for you isn't it?
Now me, I'm the Stalking Queen and so I am insulted when someone is trying to out stalk me. Granted that was not the actual case because she was not, in fact, stalking me. Well whatever, it was fun while it lasted.
Mom's getting along with me now and I feel weirded out. Between her and Brandon I'm just not ready for this. Brandon's being nice now too and I can't for the life of me figure out what that punk wants. Mom seems to be making an attempt to take an interest in my life and I just don't know how to handle the situation. I just keep waiting for something blow up or overflow, but she just keeps saying nice things and I want to ask in the most polite way possible, "Who are you and where is my real mother?"
But hey, maybe I changed too and just haven't noticed it much. Either way, I hope I get used to these nice people because if I don't I fear I'll go insane due to paranoia.

Play It Like a Movie

I couldn't wait for college. All summer I was just waiting impatiently to jump into the college life and take my college classes, but now I just want everything to freeze. Class starts Monday, it's opening weekend and I just don't want to take the next step anymore.
Don't get me wrong, I've had my reservations about the future all summer, but I've gotten over them and moved on because I always figured, 'Everything's going to work out, don't sweat it.' Except what if it doesn't? What if I'm not driven enough to get a story published? What if I'm not good enough to become a writer? It's all I've ever really wanted, and I just can't see myself doing anything else.
Well hell, why can't we just freeze it like I said? I'd stay here, my friends would stay here, I'd continue writing with the hopes for tomorrow and I'd never have to risk having my heart broken when it didn't happen.
Sometimes I feel like life would be better if it were a movie.

Yes I'm Drunk! Why aren't you?!

Had my graduation party tonight. Met my third cousin who is also a writer (and a good one if the information I've managed to gather is correct). I have a feeling that if we had ever lived in the same state, we would've gotten along quite well, and been close friends.
I spent the majority of the time with her, though I avoided her in the beginning since everyone was pushing for us to chat. I'm not fond of being pushed, but I'll admit I was extremely curious as to what her stories were about.
Uncle Gunther and Aunt Ericka (my grandmother's siblings) came out and chatted happily about old times. Gunther got drunk, as did most of the adults at the party. Kids ran about playing in with the slip and slide, dogs rushed under tables for scraps. My friends each stopped by in turns to laugh, eat and be on their way.
I didn't expect to have so much fun with everyone, but it was a blast, and I think that Allie (my third cousin) and I could really benefit from one another, bouncing ideas back and forth...editing a little.
And God, to see so many German-Americans standing around a keg laughing and accidentally slipping German words in with their English. It's a scene you'd have to live through.

Red Lights, Hopeful Dreams and the Hell that is Science Class

Brandon is constantly running red lights after work. We watch him and warn him laughingly that he's going to get pulled over one day. Well I guess last night was the night because he ran the red light with me behind him. I waited for it to turn green and start to go, nearly getting T-boned by a cop car who then takes a right following after Brandon.
The ironic part? He just finished his 'Safety Class' after getting a speeding ticket. I had to laugh.

In other news, I've sent out six query letters to Literary Agents. Two have replied with 'not interested' and the other four have decided to keep me holding my breath for a while longer yet. Still anxious to get away, still resigned to sitting in my room.

I wish someone would at the very least call and ask me out or something. Anything to get away from the boredom that is my room. I've a few books under my bed and I've been going through them in whatever spare time I have between work and sleep. I'm panicking over Chemistry class for my first real semester of college. I hate science and yet I decided to sign up for one of the most difficult ones. Bravo.

The Art of Not Existing

It seems that half year lull in the arguments between mom and I has come to an end. We are fighting again. Not as bad as before, but bad enough that I've been flat out leaving and not coming back until it's time for bed. Then I show up, say five words or so and close my door.

I don't want to be here. Maybe it's just my age, not a child but not quite an adult. Every other night I find myself wondering if they would even worry if I were to go rent a hotel room. Could I? Am I old enough? Sometimes I know you have to be twenty-one to rent a room.
I want to disappear for a night or two. I want to not have to hear about everyone's problems, everyone's expectations, their favors.

I just want to not exist even more than I already do for a day or so. I'm not big on silence but maybe with no one to talk to I can get some things straight, make some decisions, do something to help my future.

We'll see how it goes.

Damn Good Stalker

So there's this guy (sorry I've not been writing, been busy with stuff and other stuff) in creative writing workshop that I'm sure I've told you about. Being me, and considering I know myself fairly well, I knew the day I saw him that he was just going to be one of those guys I moon over, crush on, consider asking out and then run away because I know I'll never get the words out of my mouth. So I just stare at them, listen to what they say, read what they write, and try to decide if I can continue to like them based on the words that come out of their mouths.
He, bless his cheery little soul, passed the talk test. Meaning he actually had decent things to say, and I could tolerate his opinion because he seemed genuinely open-minded.
Until that dreadful, 'don't mess with the writer' day occured and he made the mistake of not liking my story. Don't get me wrong, I don't expect everyone to like my stuff, but when he was the only one to say something really negative about it, I got pissed. And then the guy that happened to skip class that day, the idiot who is narrow minded and idiotic, e-mailed me some crap about how my story lacked plot and a conclusion and character development...I'm not going to drag you through the details because they are unimportant for this particular story.
Anyway, I send the cute guy (the guy I like, remember?) an e-mail because the other guy managed to push me to my limit. I e-mailed him a long angry e-mail basically demanding to know what he thought my story was missing, and how I could 'perfect' it. And when I hit the send button I had one of those, "I'm going to regret this for the next three weeks until I forget about it" moments.
I get back from work later that night, still shaking my head because I knew I sounded like a moron and what do I find? An equally long apology from that cute guy from class.
So I started slowing my pace or speeding my pace up so that I could leave class with him and we could talk. About anything really, I just enjoyed talking to him, you know?
Then today we did his story in class, workshopped it I mean, and I was all ready to tell him what I thought. Except I didn't. I just couldn't think of anything 'brilliant' to say and I didn't want him to think I was a moron.
And after class? I booked it. I was out of there.
Buuuut I slowed down as I was walking out. I knew he was about twenty feet behind me and I knew he walked slow, at a kind of lazy pace. I am not fond of lazy pacing unless the situation calls for it. I was curious to see if he'd catch up to me this time. He did.
"My God, you just would not shut up would you?" he asked. "Hard to get a word in edge-wise, it was kind of embarassing."
I laughed, "Yeah, I tried to contain myself, but sometimes my mouth just gets away from me, sorry." He laughed and I added, "I really liked your story, I was going to say something but Kirk (that guy I don't like who said I lacked a conclusion) was doing his thing and I just didn't want to interrupt."
"Yeah, but I have to admit that Kirk was...." blah blah, about Kirk.
I smiled and looked over at him. "Yeah and I have to admit that while he was talking I was busy trying to come up with the loudest song I knew to drown him out."
"And how did that go?"
"Poorly," I admitted. "I kept switching stations."
Made my day, right? Right.
But then I used my detective skills (which no one seems to think I have) and looked him up in the student directory. It only gave his number, his e-mail and where he was living. Nothing of interest (what am I going to do with his number? I know the line between creepy and acceptable, calling him when he didn't give me his number would be creepy) there...so then I looked him up on google. JACKPOT!
I knew he lived in Michigan, but I was trying to determine his age. If he was in GSW (which he happened to mention he was) he was likely a Freshman, maybe a sophmore. Then google, my lovely search engine friend, directed me to a paper from his old high school. He got an award in 2009 for something with Boy Scouts. Translation? He graduated last year. Meaning? His age was from 18 to possibly 20, but he's smart so no older because he wouldn't have had to repeat a grade.

I just don't understand why people don't think I could be the next Sherlock Holmes. That's got to prove something, doesn't it?

Barbie and Tutors and Jobs, Oh my!

So I have an unhealthy obsession with Barbie movies, and I will freely admit that. I am quite fond of watching the movies, I find them interesting. What I find amazing though, what really boggles my mind is that when talking to my manager, John (the 38 year old with daughters) he admitted to watching and enjoying them too! Yeah, I thought it was a joke, until he started listing them off and saying which were the best and which needed work.
How could I not stare at him in wonder? It would've have been extremely difficult.
So then we went from Barbie to talking about jobs. I want to switch from night to morning during summer vacation so that I can get a second job at Walmart, not a bad idea right? I mean I do have to pay for college and everything, I could use the money. He says that they'll likely throw a fit and refuse, and he'd hate to lose such a hard worker (I'm not making it up, I really am a hard worker...when I see cause), but at the same time, I needed to do what I had to do, and Walmart would most definitely pay better.
So you get the part in my title about jobs and Barbie, but what is this about tutors? Do I need a tutor? Am I finally losing my brain? No. Don't be ridiculous I don't need a tutor.
What happened is I got a 60% (D) on my last chemistry exam. Yes, that's a bad grade, no I don't usually suck that much. I just got bored with the class and ceased paying attention. My mistake, and I'm fixing it. My parents seem to think I need a tutor...or well they did. Mom suggested it, but I explained what went wrong and she just shook her head and asked what I learned from this and what her concerns were. Dad on the other hand, keeps pushing it. I said over my dead body would I go meet a tutor for tutoring that I do not need, and he decides he's going to tutor me.
Not only am I not okay with that, but I hate when dad teaches me anything. He can't use simple, understandable terms, he has to teach you by telling you a number of extemely complicated things before he even gets to it, and by that time you're too confused to learn anything anyway.
Oh, the joys of living under your parent's roof. Boy I tell you...

Mom's Magic Logic

So I liked this guy who everyone said liked me, aaaand I asked him out. His response? "I have plans with my girlfriend that night." Well okay...awesome. So I shrug it off and deal. Then he tells a friend that he broke up with his girlfriend...that same day. I spent the entire weekend trying to figure out when exactly he broke up with his girlfriend. Before I asked him out, which means he's not interested, or after which means there is still hope. I have always needed to hope whole heartily or not at all, so I wanted hopes dashed or I wanted to be able to hope with little doubt.
Turns out (if my source of information is correct) that he broke up with her a month ago.
Well...that sucks. When I found out, I sort of laughed, shrugged my shoulders and went, "Well see? Now I know for sure, and I don't have to sit here hoping. What a relief!" My idiot friends just looked at me and went, "It's not okay, it's not a relief. You're not okay." Really Sherlock? Is that right?
I know I'm not okay, I know it's not a relief. I'm telling you something that is obviously a lie because I don't want to think about it now, I want to drop it. I am pretending because if I pretend to be okay, I will be okay for as long as it takes to get out of this public place, go home and cry. I don't want to cry in front of you. So do me a favor and accept my lie for the time being okay?
So I take Andrew home, drop him off and head back to my home. Alone, I do start to cry and feel sorry for myself. I barely get into my driveway when he calls and asks me to pick him up...so I do. He comments on my 'purple' face. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it, I just want to go home and go to bed.
I take him where he needs to go, dropping something off, and while he's in that house, I call my sister and tell her what happened. We don't cry in front of eachother, or share any feelings beyond "I'm pissed at..." But she's my sister, and I wanted to talk to her. Andrew gets back in the car, I hang up, drive him home and go home. Mom and her boyfriend leave and my sister walks into my room, ready to make me feel better. She never shares, never spends money on anyone but herself and friends, and never tries to make you feel better, but she did then. She offered to buy me ice cream, offered to let me have one of her Fruit by the Foots, and offered to beat him up for me.
But whatever, that's not what this is about. Yesturday I spent half the day analyzing and feeling sorry for myself, thinking "What's so wrong with me? Why do the creepy guys like me, but the guys I actually like...they're completely uninterested?" Which is not always the case, but I'm allowed my few dramatic moments. After the analyzation, I reassured myself with the never failing, always present, mom logic. I just told myself everything my mom has ever said to me in my more depressing moments. He's not the only guy I'll ever like, they're not all going to say no, and guys aren't the center of the universe, if one hurts your feelings and pride (which is what he did, he didn't break my heart, don't be ridiculous we didn't even date) you move on and get on with your life.
Like magic, Mom's advice and logic made me feel better. Feelings are easy to fix, pride heals, and guys come and go. Even without saying a word, Mom helped. It happened yesturday, and I'm sitting here today, completely content and ready for another round (not that I'll be doing anything rash when it comes to guys any time in the next...two or three years). Mom is MAGIC.

Muted Music

So my headphones are plugged into my new laptop, my laptop is on mute and I'm listening to the radio blasting a song from the first floor of this building. Yeah...I'm that cool.
Supposedly we're going to Coldstone, a (never been there myself) neat ice cream shop, on Saturday for my birthday a month ago...not because my friends forgot, but because we're all so bloody busy with school, work and homework.
I've been typing like crazy since I got this laptop a week ago? Maybe two, I don't know the time just flies when I can type up my stories like nobody's business. Speaking of, you're cutting into my editing time so I've got skat (why did we ever stop using that word? I like it)! Adios!

Maybe It's Just Me

Have you ever been in the most ridiculous situation ever? Like for instance, hypothetically you get off work at 2 in the morning, you have to be back by 11 in the morning, you get home and all you want to do is go to bed but you decided to get some homework out of the way. And then your dad comes down and wants you to try his cheesecake, okay cool, but let me get my homework out so I have it ready.
And in this hypothetical situation, trying to find your homework pisses dad off. So you're still going through your folders looking for all the sheets you need and he starts muttering to yourself. Finally you give up, figuring you'll get it done with what you've got and he informs you that you are the rudest person he's ever met...because you wanted to find your homework before you tried a cheesecake.
"I'm rude for wanting to get my homework done?" you laugh. "Seriously? I can try the cheesecake, I told you I'd just be a second."
"That was longer than a second," he would accuse, storming towards the stairs. "Put the ice cream away."
The ice cream you got out because he told you to...so now you are of course pissed. "Fine, eat your own damn cheesecake." I childish statement followed by an even more childish response.
"I can what?" he demands.
"Eat it yourself, I have homework to do."
"I get up at 2 to do something nice for you and you start a fight, that's just great. Don't ask for my help on anything."
"I didn't ask you to get up and get me cheesecake dad. In fact I told you I'd rather just do my homework and go to bed. I said I didn't want it."
"You're an idiot." Yeah...that's right, your dad comes back with the most worn out of all comebacks, 'Yeah well you're stupid'
"I'm the idiot?" you ask with a snort. "I'm the idiot because I went looking for my homework? You've never told us to hold on a second before? Never?"
"That was more than a second."
"And yours only took a second?"
At which point he storms upstairs after some threat just as ridiculous as the whole event and a threatening finger point.
No? No one's ever been there? It's just me? Well look at that...

A Writer's Godsend

So it comes as no surprise to anyone that words are to me what football is to Bret Farve, or Christmas is to Santa. They are my life, and therefore anything with something to with them are important to me. Pencils, college rule paper, folders, binders, and a laptop. Well I finally got a laptop! Mom and her boyfriend got me one as an early graduation present.
Found it hidden under my covers when I got home from work last night. At first I was like "Why the hell is my bed hard?" But when I realized, I could hardly breath. A computer! Something to story my life's work on! Something that is (in my opinion) better than a cell phone! AWESOME!
Oh yeah...I went there, to crazy town. And I am not going back anytime soon. You'd better believe that I'm going to worship this thing for quite a while after this.
CK out (I will explain later)

Long Time No....

So I have way too much homework, way too much work work and not enough time for fun. Got into a water fight with some big mouth at work...he won. But I'll get him back don't worry. More of an update to come. Love me!

Life in the Fast Lane is Like the Slow Lane only More Annoying

So between college, work, HOMEwork, and sleep I find myself falling behind on my poor poor blog. I am so sorry blog, please forgive me? It's pretty late, and I am very tired so this is a very short entry.
I am seeing a guy named Jac (French, not sure how to spell it so sue me). Met him in Creative Writing, we're going to go see a movie tomorrow. Our wedding is set for the fall, I am currently unsure of the date. More on my favorite French guy at a later date. Sleep well my friends! (I will...right through my alarm I'll bet).

Family Loyalties, American Justice and Inevitable Heartbreak

I'd like to consider myself withdrawn enough to be able to do things I may not really want to do, and I don't mean doing the dishes, I mean like having to put a dog down because it's sick even though I would really rather not. Apparently that is not so...my sister has me beat in that aspect, and it sucks.

I'm not happy to say that she's more capable of doing what's right than I am, but I think it's true. My dad was in jail for his sixth (or seventh, but who's counting?) DUI, now he's on work release. Yesterday I saw him sitting at my grandma's counter on my way to class. I don't know how much you know about jail time and work release, but you're released for work only, not sitting at your mother's (my grandmother's) counter for a social visit. Which means that he could get into serious trouble for such an offense...and I wasn't supposed to tell anyone.

God, I didn't want to. I didn't miss him until I realized he was there, and then I was so glad to see him. I mean he's my dad, of course I'd miss him. I'm not going to go tell my sisters that, it's a total sign of a too soft heart. He's never really been there if you know what I mean, so why should I miss him?

I didn't want to get him in trouble, and despite the fact that I could get into trouble for aiding and embedding or whatever, I was and am perfectly content to keep my silence. There is one person, however, that does not share my feelings. My mother. I damn well couldn't call the cops on my own father, could I? But she can. So I called her this morning, and I told her. She wouldn't call anyone, or tell anyone if I asked her not to, she's not going to put me into that position. But I knew deep down (cliche much?) that I had told her because I wanted her to tell someone. I couldn't do it, but she could. I couldn't tell on him, but if they ask me, I won't lie for him.

Everyone's going to know I did it, that I told on him because really, who else knew? And they'll be pissed for sure, and I'll feel like a traitor to my family (his side anyway), turning dad over to 'American Justice', but you have to understand...I had no choice. I may not have Sav's mad bravery, and lack of concern for the thoughts of those close to me, but I like to think I'm not a complete coward. Wish me luck...they'll have my head on a platter for this.

College Life in High School

So I've finished my classes at the High school and am now just taking college courses. Let me just say it FLIPPING ROCKS!!!!! Creative Writing workshop has this really cute guy in it who is minoring in Creative writing. He's a much better poet than me, not that that's difficult. We had to write a poem and read it to the class, because it has been requested, I'll be posting that poem on my other blog; Living in the World of Make-Believe.
I have a feeling college life is going to be fun. ; D

When Yelling at Your Boss

So I got into one of our many fights with my manager, John. He said I was constantly invading his space and bumping me so he was banning me to the 'hole' (the present window where we hand out food). I have nothing to do in the hole so I just stood there with my arms crossed, and we suddenly got really busy. Just to tick him off I started calling, "Well John, I'd get the shakes and coffees to save you time, but I can't go passed that line (he drew a line on the ground with his foot)." and "John, could you serve it or are you going to have problems remembering a Mcdouble and small fry?" Then when I had everything but a jug of chocolate milk, which I should've been able to get myself because I had a mini cooler in my area, but was out of chocolate milk. So I tell him I need him to go get some and he reaches over my barrier, trying to strangle me. He couldn't reach and I laughed. Then he checks my cooler to make sure I was telling the truth and declared I did it on purpose.
After twenty minutes of all this (he banned me and the grill people were making fun of me), I think screw it and start to follow him around. It takes him about five minutes to notice and he goes, "Oooo you're in trouble now." To which I tell him, "So ground me, I'm doing my job which does not involve standing around doing nothing." John then decides we'll switch. So then he's banned to the hole and he puts a foot over the line so I push him back and our other manager, Rachel arranges two carts to block him in. All he can do is make the McCafe products and the drinks. So then he starts calling the same stuff I'm always calling to him and I'm telling him to zip it. Rachel was helping me and he's like, "Well don't help her!" And the grill team is egging us on, telling me to 'show him who's boss'. I was yelling at the grill team to get me my food and being John, the manager, and John was being annoying.
So because of an argument, I got to be manager for an hour. It was fun, and the customers watched us all, laughing. A better time at work I've never had.

The Year it All Went to Hell (Sounds like a good story title...)

No more New Years blues, I hung out with my best friend's mom last night. Yeah...just me and her mom. Now I'm trying to clean clean clean so that when mom get's back it's just like when she left it. Wish me luck, and happy New Year! Two more years until the world ends! (Or so they say...)