tigresslilly

So yea, I'm a awake but a but grouchy. Both my mom and my dad have very early morning exercise and be at work schedules. I'm glad that they're exercising and not letting their lack of weight loss put them off their diets or exercise routine. I don't mind being vaguely awake and aware of those grumblings when they're moving around. I don't really mind when they call out to talk to me and make me fully awake either but I can't fall back asleep and when they leave I'm just tired and grouchy with nothing to do

It's all good, I'll drink tea later and life will pick up.

As a side note now that my facebook picture hunt addiction is over and my try to revive the insanejournal has proven it's not enough (can only post so often, sometimes I have nothing to say, not committed enough for a nanowrite, and can only respond to some friends and coms) I am addicted to facebook apps. I've got cafe world, farmville, fish town, and happy fish. I have others that I tried and just didn't make it to the temp addiction phase. So yeah I'm a little lame.

Moved around all my icons again. Since I only have about 100 free slots whenever I plan a massive update I delete a few I'm not using and add in the newbies. Sometimes i have more space at the end of the swap around. My fannish icons are getting less and less these days but I think that's because I'm not participating in the fandom as much as I should/thought I would. Need to find some Dollhouse and Fringe groups stat.

In other related notes, I've been slowly backdating old journals I never posted because I didn't have internet and journals I wrote by hand.  While going through my Senior high school journal I realized that beyond being pretentious and righteous and a know it all I sometimes had interesting thoughts and connections, but there's a lot of muck to rake through first.  

Also thanks to my backdating, all my Wyoming journals are off the first page of my journal.   There's more in between I should type in but I'm stuck at a particularly angsty journal I don't want to write in or look at again maybe ever. C'est la vie. 

Finished my application for an educator's liscence.  Hopefully the second set of tests will be worked up and graded soon and I'll have everything I need to start applying for jobs.  It's not an ideal time to hunt but we've all got our crosses to bear on that front.  Minimally tutoring of some sort should be approachable.

So I passed the math portion of the teacher's test. I don't know about the English junk yet as it's a new test and they hold on to it forever, but hey the math part is good and that was the part I was worried about. Go me!

My brother is a terrible writer, as I think I mentioned last week. It's not that he can't write, but he needs some one on one focus and some very specific but simple training. All of that is ok. He and I are working on it and I really think he could be in gear for the limited writing he'll do in college with an engineering major.

I suppose I should say that he and I were working on it. My mom took over, partly because Kyle wasn't smart enough to plan so that I could really look at the work and partly because she doesn't like when others are in control of what's hers .

He has rolling admissions and someone needs to push him through this. He couldn't or wouldn't do it on his own. She might have just felt like she had some momentum left after Kyle needed her to look at the common app and pushed through. I don't really know.

What I do know is that she stopped being "helpful" to the cause yesterday. She's fine at correcting but she doesn't get the kind of one on one detail work that needs to be done. She doesn't get that because you can correct it all in one draft doesn't mean you should (not if you want Kyle to pull something from the mess anyway). She doesn't get that oral correction is like you never did anything. She doesn't get that even written corrections just don't get translated over to the paper because Kyle can't copy word for word and he's so unsure about his work and his own instincts he won't correct stuff in the essay that doesn't make sense to him because he knows that's part of what you wrote down so the not making sense bit is all in his head.

Basically she doesn't get that beyond coaching Kyle in writing and compensating for some of his learning disabilities, I'm coaching him in confidence and doing my utmost to make sure that he understands, can do what I did, and feels good about where he is and the progress he's making. It isn't easy and I don't lie to him about anything. If it's bad I say so, but the trick is not to belabor that point. I tell him we all come in at different starting points and there's nothing we can do about where we start, we can only do something about where we move to. I always stress that we can move this to A work The piece is going to finish strong. I focus on the improvements from last time how he stopped doing x and that was great or I could tell he understood and really worked to keep tense together. To be honest how he picks up and integrates what he understands is very promising.

Anyway, my mom has been yelling for two days and it's getting more insulting and personal each day. We all know she has her limits and snaps. We all knew she'd already broken down on this issue once and was therefor more likely to go crazy over it a second time.

I don't get it. I don't understand what she thinks she'll accomplish yelling at Kyle telling him he's stupid and he can't do the work and his attempts are pathetic. I don't get how I can sit and explain what I'm doing, why I'm doing it and point to some positive results and she can still come in and shit on it all.

I don't get what Kyle was thinking when he didn't jump on this after the first time she went ape shit crazy. I know how demotivating she can be. I know she can shake you in a lot of cruel and hard ways. You know I get the hesitation and I get that the quality of work is going to be less than it was before because now you're shaky. I don't get not trying to dodge all the abuse and crazy you can.

I don't get the whole deal.

My mom and I have been talking about this Halloween party we're putting together since September. It's really very sweet that she's trying to share my enthusiasm and general need of this holiday. Its the one Christian holiday that was never ruined by some sort of whatever junk that's tainted all the others. You know all that junk that's covered them which generally result in me having a bunch a panic attacks and nervous break downs and general freak outs as they come closer.

I mean my connection to this one holiday in the most secular of views is probably one of those big subconscious things that tipped the scale in favor of some neo-paganism classic where I can celebrate Halloween as a big party. A culmination of last year and a clean start on the new year. Beyond the party and the food and all that I'm really trying to focus on that last bit. I need a new start. I need to let go of what I'm carrying and reconnect with some of the good energies and things that I used to sense so naturally. I thought that I could do that without a mile marker, but since I can't, I'm hopeful that the little addition will help.

Anyhow, I'm cooking for a party this year. My brother and his little friends are coming over. The food is mostly weight watchers friendly because I really do want to help my mom with her diet. I want to rent out the Rocky Horror, Evil Dead, and Rosemary's Baby. All classic movies Kyle and his young friends have missed that just need to be remedied. I'm not really a Rocky Horror fan, but I don't think my prejudice should stop peeps from seeing it. After all I'm not a Monty Python fan either so what do I know about great cult classics.

Got food shopping and movie renting and class and work all on the horizon. Ta.

I keep having nightmares and vivid dreams. I wake up and for a few brief seconds I expect to be in Wyoming and then I remember my life and that part sucks almost more than the dream. Zac and Jeff run rampant in my dreams always starting off as people I'm happy to see and turning into people I hate or hide from or am emotionally wounded by. When it's not them it's about strangers abducting me and horrible things happening. It's always winter in these places. I hate it all so very much. I always wake up tired and sore and wishing I could still be asleep even if I'd be back in those dreams. At least the dreams aren't real.

Jeff is gone to Indonesia and I never said good bye. I've been dog sick and busy with work and Kyle's paper stuff. I think there's a chance I can get him to write an essay on his own and I'm not screwing it up. Plus I don't know if I'll ever want to talk to Jeff again. I don't know if I can stomach all the pushing for something more something I'll never want.

I've written and thought about why I hate Jeff's advances now when before I felt similarly. Before Jeff was the best boyfriend I'd had. It was easy to still be interested in him when my current bfs didn't have what he had and didn't have and qualities that filled the void.

Zac filled the void. He's not like Jeff in the least, but he's a complete package. I was with him for so long and appreciated the consideration and thought he offered so much how could I go back to someone as selfish or self centered as Jeff.

I know Jeff believes he terribly considerate to me, and how he acts towards me compared to the world at large is considerate. I've lived with more though and I'll always want that now that I've had it.

Beyond the whole comparison of exs though, Jeff exists on a completely different thought plain than I do. That wasn't the case even months ago, but letting go of a dream and a lifestyle and choosing something else that still nebulous and unknown has completely warped my outlook.

My aura color is altered. Kathleen and I have argued the positives and negatives of it, but it comes down to the fact that I don't just feel like and an altered being, I am an altered being. How I think what my focus is the way the world looks is all different.

I've finally had or taken the life changing experience that people talk so much about for college essays and all that. Odd.

There are spoilers regarding the latest episode of the Dollhouse and possibly all of season two so far.

During the first season of Dollhouse, I gave it the tentative thumbs up.  The device wasn't the best I'd seen, but the whole troupe of actors playing completely different parts each episode is really cool.  That the lead was a woman showing her versatility as an actor made me happy.  The different games, cult infiltrator, rock star back-up singer, hostage negotiator, and so on were fun.  I like that Echo twisted traditional roles.  She did unexpected things and took her character to the next level in a lot of the mini skits.  I could overlook that the power she showed in these moments was wiped away at the end of each episode because I like the mini person and in the big picture it looked like Echo had been powerful and willful and was still a force of potential danger and power.  There was a hint of maybe and the maybe was just another taste for me to want the uprising and to see it as a potentially big and glorious event to look forward too.  I don't know if I'm the only one who feel this but the whole show reminds me of The Pretender with a female lead.

I never in a million years wanted the show to become about the actual Dollhouse.  I didn't want to learn more about it's internal workings.  I didn't want to see that Adelle was in many ways as much a doll as the actual dolls to a bigger group where some men sit in a dark room and smoke.  The implication that these men existed and that Adelle had to walk softly to get around them was enough for me.  That she sometimes was getting one over on them and that there could be consequences beyond her power to alter if they were involved was enough. 

  I never wanted Topher to be more than a sad narcissist incapable of real relationships or empathy for others.  The question of whether those remembering or those who don't get to remember suffer more isn't a question or theme I want incorporated into the show.  Hello been there and covered it best through Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind thanks.  By the way the answer to who's better off is always the people with the power are better off.  Those remembering always win.  They have a choice, they have the knowledge and they have the power.  The dolls have to wander around in the dark.  That I could ever grow to sympathize with Topher or his position is to make overly light of the whole scenario  It makes me blindingly angry.

At the end of the latest episode Topher talks about how Sierra was never meant to be in the Dollhouse.  This implies that others in the Dollhouse are meant to be there.  Sierra's story is particularly sad and tragic.  Comparatively to November's story, the only other doll's back story we have a full account of, it does seem cruel and awful  November did seem far more willing in the process than Sierra does.  

Still what we know about Victor implies some sort of war trauma why would that make him belong more?  And with Echo it seems that she was snooping into the Dollhouse's experiments  It seems that the company probably killed her fiancée and was going to send her to jail with trumped up charges.  She knew too much and was being silenced, or at least that's what I've gathered.  How does this make Echo belong more.  Is it because she was "asking for it" by "snooping around" and "sticking her nose where it didn't belong"?  Echo is clearly upset about her options and she seems to fully understand in her meeting with Adelle that she's probably never going to be Carolyn again.  How is that chilling terrifying knowledge and forced choice make her belong more than Sierra's choices?  

Beyond that, how come Sierra is always a victim?  Within the dollhouse her keeper was raping her.  Outside her doctor drugged and raped her and got her sent to the dollhouse to become a doll after which he continually paid for her to do engagements where she slept with him "willingly".  It's too much for me.  Too much victimization  Too much powerlessness.  Too much focus on what is the most unpleasant part of the show and not enough time using the Dollhouse as a tool to do completely different shows every week.

Echo might have some power in this place.  She seems to be growing more capable the more she ignored and left to her own devices.  Where last season she stood out as "glitching" she now hides that through lies and deception while she tries to lead the other dolls to the same awareness she has now.  When caught we find Echo's favoritism continues with Boyd who has a soft spot for her and through Ballard who apparently considers her the insider that will make it possible to take the dollhouse down. 

As if one woman's rise in power above suppression and cohesion must be shot down Sierra's character is hit with all time low.  As the character that is supposed to be the fighter the gun carrying woman who cleaned up messes, she's become the victim White but still foreign woman to be punished and continually taken advantage of.

Season 2 really hasn't been the same at all as season 1 and I'm not sure whether I can hold onto it after this past episode.  I've been watching and waiting for a return to fun echo on assignments with little side trips to the dolls developing personality, but it's not what I'm getting.  Echo has up and changed for no particular reason maybe the multiple personality boot is what did it, I don't really know but suddenly we were let in too much to her world I think.  It was too much change in her basic doll structure to go so unnoticed.  I mean it was a big deal when Sierra Victor and Echo started sitting together.

At the end of last season Ballard suggested that who the dolls had been always effected the imprint.  He used Alpha's past as part of the proof and it shows again in Echo's responses.  I want more of that kind of direction if we must talk about the dollhouse.   I don't know.  I'm really unhappy with the second season and how the show looks and feels.  I can't give the same defense of it or any defense really that I gave back in season 1.  The nefarious has become too much I guess.

There are things in life that are beyond me.  I don't know what it would take to make me happy.  I don't know if there is any foreseeable time when I'll ever be able to move out of my parents' house.  Gods know I want to, but there's all this work, which I'm working on, that's in the way before I can even consider it.  It's ugly and heavy and bitchy of me to bring it up.  Gosh knows they should be the ones who are angry and tired.  I should be thankful that my brother takes so much energy and time. 

Kyle is another thing that's just beyond me.  The kid is a senior in high school and he really can't write an essay on his own.  I mean I know children where that's the case, hell I know college peeps who can't write essays and are successful.  The difference is that they know they can't write essays,  They know it takes a team and they prep in advance so that the whole team can work it's magic and the essay works.  

I like working on Kyle's essays.  I like to help him.  I mean I'm not useful at as many things as I'd like to be helpful with but I'm really really good at anything English oriented.  It's one of those things that college and Wyoming and life kind of made me forget, but I really like literature and I'm really intuitively good at parsing out bits and pieces.  I know what to write down to get an A and I know how to write it.  I know all about the different processes you can take to get those words on paper.   I know how to lead people with no skill or intuition into the same answers that come to me like a form of divine intervention.  I know how to rewrite the shittiest most primitive work into something respectable.  I can do it with poetry, lit analysis, exposition and so many other forms of writing.

  I know how to weave the obvious into something subtle and rich with meaning if given the opportunity.  I am a fucking spin machine.  My problem isn't that I don't get it, it's just that there's so much to get.  I can go off for hours about the uses of what are seemingly arbitrary words.  I can point out what was probably intentional in an author and what was luck.  I can point to conscious and unconscious decisions in work.  I can follow any lit critics analysis not matter how asinine if he or she throws out a few examples.  

I know how to use styles that are considered difficult to master.  Hell, I've written some of my best work in the second person and for me if was pretty simple. 

I'm not saying that there aren't better people out there.  Obviously there are.  I'm not even suggesting that I could be helpful to everyone.  I think I could help a majority of people with their work if given the one on one time with them and a person who really wanted my help.  What I'm saying is that I know what I'm doing and I'm good at it.  I can make a plan that will work for a student who has trouble in that area because even though I have a good intuitive grasp of the work, I have several disabilities that make the process as difficult for me as other people less talented find it.  I know a lot of tricks, and even ones that don't work for me, I recognize the kind of person they might work for. 

For whatever reasons Kyle can't or won't help me work out a schedule for him to do his work by.  It's causing tension in the household because everyone has agreed that I should take point on this task, heck I'd like to take point on this, and I can do nothing for a person who won't work out a schedule with me and then stick too it.   

Oh well.  There is some good.  I know that even though I'm good at English, I'd probably fail in job where I'd have to work with more than ten people on their work.  I think that working with Kyle has helped to bring back some of my passion too.  I mean I'm writing again and I want to write.  I feel like some of my poetic inclination is back too.  Who knows, maybe some of my poetic flow is awake and well.  It's all baby steps. 

I still hope to help him.  I really want some of this college stuff nailed down.  I'll just have to keep pushing at it and hoping it works out.

I miss the road.  I miss the space.  I miss the air and the wind and the rustle.  I miss waking up next to someone.  I miss living my life and my selfish spoiled nomadic existence where nothing was stable but there was still love and hope and laughter and dance.  I've traded up eventually I guess but it sure doesn't feel that way right now. What I miss could fill tomes and still what I want seems like a daunt open wasteland of uncertain guesses.  At least I'm still moving. 

From time to time I still miss Zac.  I almost always miss WY or I suppose more accurately I miss CO .  I generally feel lonely and sad, but this isn't particularly new in my saga.  I feel lonely and sad pretty easily and all that.  It doesn't help that I tend to self isolate.  I pull away from people and I don't reach out to new friends for replacement or augmentation.  I retreat into fantasy too much and am generally difficult.  I want more from others than perhaps I'm willing to give or even offer. 

I'm out of touch with the time and people in this place. 

I think one of the things I miss most about the midwest is even though all this was still true (in some ways my ideals and goals made this more true) I almost never felt isolated.  It wasn't just Zac either, heck most of the time I was alone and sometimes I was pleased about that too.  The boy is a lot of overhead. 

There was always someone I could talk to.  Strangers started up conversations with me all the time and that was nice.  People weren't on their cell phones all the time and completely unapproachable.  I got to know some of the regulars in town who were often out and around the same time I was.  I know  I was really only talking knitting, tv, current news, weather, and random household nonsense, bu that was enough.  I really don't need a lot of socializing to feel good.  That's probably the saddest peice.

This really isn't a bitch session about the Northeast though I find the people cold and intentionally malicious.  This isn't even really about me being overly senstive and a little paranoid, though those are also true. 

I'm trying to get back up, when I was never really on my feet to begin with and it's exhausting.  I'm tired and sad and lonely and generally misable.  I fall to tears at the drop of a hat.  I'm spending more money than I have or will ever have at this point.  I'm so keenly hopeful for a promotion at work that I know will never happen and whenever anyone throws out even the tiniest shred of hope I jump on it. 

I'm working on becoming at teacher and keenly aware that in this state I just might be unfit even if I pass all my tests and get into a degree program. 

I was trying to give up writing.  It's occurred to me that I only reach out to the internet or to pen and paper when I'm alone and isolated.  It also occurrs to me that all the fiction, poetry, memes, and even journal entries I write so talently is all a form or escapism that I fuel energy into instead of an actual escape.  While when I was a teen and there usually wasn't another place for me to go that might have been alright (though probably not because it created negative patturns) it shouldn't be ok forever.  Heck when I wanted to desperately drop out of college and I knew I couldn't finding satifaction in writing about dropping out and being ridicuously successful when I knew it could never be true in the real world was probably ok too.  Just got it out of my system is all, though I suppose in some ways feeling satified through wring instead of doing might be the whole problem.  It's more than a cartharsis.  I feel like I've done it, explored the possibility as far or farther than I could have in the real world so there's no reaso to purse it farther.

Anyhow, I'm trying and failing to connect to the world around me.  I  was looking to my faith to help me, but the truth is that I'm having trouble connecting to much of anything at the moment and it makes me feel more cut off that I've felt in a long time.  It's not even like it's a loss of faith.  I believe what I've always believed.  I don't doubt I just am having a hard time connecting and some of the things I'd have done to help myself reconnect, I just can't do here in this house. 

I know I'll figure it out.  I know it will be fine.  But just like thinking on the past and maybes and what ifs and shouldn't haves doesn't help the will bes are pretty fucking cold comfort.

I have been writing a lot in my paper journal on my back and forth from here to Boston.  I''ll probably back date and add those entries in later for my own records.  I think there will be a lot of time spent journal writing that way this summer.  It makes me super glad  I got a small cute owl journal earlier this year. 

Today is pretty much the day I'll have off for a little while.  Not complaining about it at the moment, just saying.  

I'm still really into the work I'm doing at the fund, which is good because it's only been three days and it would be terrible if I suddenly stopped liking it.  I find that I'm surprisingly a tiny bit embarassed to explain or talk about what I do to other people.  Which is odd because I've never felt that way about working for fast food or working as a secretary.  Maybe it's the way people rush to tell me I'm doing a good thing and have a strong moral compass and so on.  It's like they are justifying the work for me or something.  I don't like the feeling that people are making excuses for why I do what I do. 

And I'm not doing something embarassing.  I'm a grassroots activist with strong focuses in bringing information to the public, getting support and bringing momentum to campaign against big buisness lobbists.  You do that one person at a time door to door or on the streets.  Then you follow up with publishing as much as you can in any newpaper, magazine, or other work that will have you.  You petition and send letters to congressmen and reps.  None of this is embarassing stuff.  It's empowering and interesting and potentially hope laden.  I'm confused by my own reactions when explaining the job really. 

Met this kid Todd the other day who goes to MCLA.  Got a million little bits of gossip from him and I was loving it.  We had a ball and I'm sorry that I won't be seeing him again.  Makes me think this job is really going to give me more of a chance to reach out and make some more friends or friendly aquantences.  The ones I have are great but I need a few more really.  And I know I'm done with college and need to move out of that mind set into something else, but I dunno, as long as I'm not trolling college activities and classes looking for friends, it's probably ok for me to float for a little while. 

  I also noticed that if a gay guy tosses around the word whore all the time it doesn't bother me.  Maybe because he never really meant it as any one thing, just something to say inbetween like cool or awesome would be for most.  Maybe it's my own persceptions of who can or can't call someone a whore.  I don't know, it's got me thinking.  Because I know people have used that word causually in convo and it's pissed me off, so I'm trying to figure out why now, while I've recently been hyper sensitive about language and its usuage, hearing whore bantered around made me laugh and shrug most of the time.  Is it a preconcieved notion I need to address with me or is it really a case of context and usage?

The veneer of the Fund has been tarnished for me and I'm relieved. I learned that it's all about the money and being liked as far as staying goes.  They do actually throw away some of the petitions when they become unwieldy instead of saving them all.  They keep people they don't like or trust or whom don't follow protocal if they make money and if you don't make money and are liked you can stay forever.   It makes me less nervous to know who I'm playing ball for and to know it's all the status quo.  I think it might be enough for me that the money and effort is going to the cause and that there's a middle ground between horribly earnest and intense people and people who don't care at all.  It's more human. 

And I'm off to Jason Maraz soon so I'm happy all around.  Will tell more about the Mohegan Sun and all else afterward, but I'm stoked.  ^_^

So I like my job at the Fund.  I'm still working out kinks to it, but I like it a lot.  I like the women I've met there and some of the men.  I suppose my general wariness is something I have to deal with better, on the other hand, it would settle my nerves a lot if they didn't loom in my personal space and openly admit that they are doing/ are on drugs right this minute.  In fairness, I know stories of drinking, blacking out, drunk driving almost deaths, stories about the chase for the weed and so on generally amuse my peer group of 19-28, they make me feel threatened and generally turned off to a person when they tell it as a funny or a one up.  I don't know what I didn't get about drinking in my college days, maybe it was that we never drove or we didn't leave people behind or I was never involved in dicey drug scenes, but it seemed more fun and less ominous than it does now.  Maybe it was always the same and my point of view has just gone through a drastic overhaul. 

Anyhow, I have met a ton of cool people too.  They are sooo earnest and care so much about our country and where we are going and what we are doing.  They still really believe that we can change things and make a difference.  They still believe unequvicably that not only can we win but that they'll be there to see it.  It's really nice.  I think I could use more of that.  I mean I get being realistic and that has it's own comfort, but it's nice to be excited and energetic and hopeful.  I might just ride that for a little and see where it takes me.  I mean this presidency has my hopes so high, they are going to be shattered, I might as well know I ran flat out to the bottom right?  

And there I go again showing that I'm not sure I can hope, believe, or have faith without reservation.  I think we have great opportunities.  I think we should strive for the best we can in so many fields and interests, but I don't generally expect a lot.  Dunno maybe that's the problem, people give you what in your heart you expect.  Maybe I don't trust or try or fight enough.  It will be interesting to jump in head first and try to keep that sense of "realism" out and only go day to day door to door thinking everyone cares about the issues and everyone has and wants to give me a thousand dollars to help the cause.

It's funny how optimistic I can be about the job, people, and work and how I can still be so terrified for my job, future, and general well being.  I haven't felt this combination of joy and terror ever I don't think.  It's like the feeling as you go up the first big roller coaster hill combined with the feeling you have right at the end of the ride.  I didn't even know you could have space for both of them at once.

Another great thing about the Fund is that it focuses me.  Today and tommorrow and probably the next couple weeks, I have my sights set on recycling.  I'm keeping up with other stuff, but my really driver is recycling at the moment.  Sure I can keep writing to my reps on other issues and talking about them when it strikes my fancy, but the fund gives me a solid goal and solid ways to reach it in one issue.  It keeps me moving instead of spreading my time over so many interests and thoughts and desires that it becomes to much and I've accomplished nothing.  

Beyond that, I'm happy to be leaving the Cosi.  My general manager was fired and having corporate in is a bear.  Stan is a fine enough person but miserable as a boss.  Little bits of nothing set him off and then he's in your face screaming at you or the person next to you forever with the customers there wasting time, making things awkard, and basically making everyone tense and itchy. 

Other days he's in the mood to joke around where he slacks off, doesn't follow protocal and otherwise creates more work we can't do until after he leaves (he goes ape shit if you touch anything he's done even if it's to add freshness dates).  And when he's gone he's got a certain group all jazzed up with talk about boozing it adventures, chasing women, and starting fights.  Then I have to deal with endless Dodgeball and Anchor Man quotes that are lude, gross, and offensive but for some reason were funny when Will Farrel said them and are of course still hilarious when randomly repeated out of context.  I'm supposed to smile and think of how witty these jerk offs are because they remember lines from these movies. I'm apparently supposed to automatically remember the lines too and know that they are jokes and therefor not be offended or in anyway displeased.  So happy my days of smiling and dealing are numbered (at least of smiling and dealing with those guys anyhow). 

Oh and I have Jason Maraz tickets for this Fri and am off to see it with my mom.  Over all my week is shaping up wonderfully.

Mr.President,

I know you were not thinking of me in specific when you created and pushed through the stimulus package, but I still would like to thank you and congress for it.  In a time where I see media judging it's value to make jobs and help the economy or even truly fund change, I'd like you to know it has indeed created a few job opportunities for me in fields I'm thrilled to be in. 

I know my job and the jobs available to many other young people (and older people though the push is for grads and students) existed before the stimulus, and here in MA I'm fairly confident that a lot of the funding will be raised or maintained to keep these jobs after the stimulus. However the sheer number currently offered to jump start college grads as well as to offer lasting careers in the advocacy field is all on you. 

The money from that package in MA is being split up into a series of green bills.  While our reps vote out exactly where and how that creates a huge boon in advocacy groups to moblize and lobby for  green energy, increased recycling, bills to reduce non reusable packaging and so on. 

Beyond the money though, your rhetoric and stances on these issues bring us hope that if we just canvas a bit more and push a little harder.  Green energy for everyone is in sight.  My new job and hundreds of others like it is delicious, but the sense of hope and urgency I can see filling advocacy offices and campaigns is even sweeter. 

For the  jobs and the money and the hope of a more viable future Mr. Pres, I thank you. 

I have three interviews to do campaigning work with differing public groups all in the same building.  I'm sorta stoked.  It seems the positions need to be filled imediately to maybe I'll be on my way to job goodness.  More updates post interviews.  Wish me luck ^.^

So I've been wanting to do a list or female artists that rock.  It will be composed of singers, bands, and on occasion when only select song are appropriate just those songs.  It isn't a feminist list persay-indeed I can think of a few songs that are not feminist friendly but still have a pleasant beat and therefor make the list.  On the other hand I feel generally compelled to do a girls singer list because I constantly hear at work and in general that there aren't any or many good female singers or songs and that just isn't true.  There are tons and tons of women with amazing voices and killer lyrics.  There are women rocking out in all aspects of music and while I'm not the end all be all of music, even I can name fourty off the top of my head. 

For those of you who haven't seen the movie, I wouldn't bother.  This movie's fail is comprable to that of HP4.  I can now safely announce that HP5 was a fluke of beautiful melding of good parts of book with beautiful visuals granted to film.  Beyond that, I won't say too much because while I love spoilers, most people don't.  

Went to six flags this week with bro and bro's friend.  While an awesome time was had by all, the Bizzaro coaster is down and based off of what I've seen of it (people being rescued from he top slope, fire shooting out inconsistantly and what not) I wouldn't suggest anyone ride it until the thing has a total over haul.  Maybe they should have spent the off season replacing whatever bits are making it old instead of repainting the superman track purple.  Whatever floats your boat though. 

Occurs to me that bro's friend may be making friends with me or flirting or a bit of both.   Currently uncertain of how to take that, but since right now it just involves ddr playing and listening to random comp and car talk while playing munchkins, I'm not going to worry or over think it.  Just gonna hang out when I feel like it and not when I don't.  If it creates problems later, I can always just not be around when the bro and he decide to chill out.

That's pretty much all of my exicting news and not exicting news.  I'm pumped over our possible to probable supreme court justice and beyond that, I've no more announcements.  Woot

Yesterday my car was getting an oil change, so after work I was sitting with another coworker while we waited for our rides.   So we were talking, as people do when I mentioned my ex-boyfriend in passing and he said "oh well that answers some questions".  

Now, there are a couple obvious questions that this statement "answers" on the surface.   Maybe he was wondering if I was dating someone or maybe he was wondering if I was gay or straight or maybe he was wondering why someone with a college degree was working at the Cosi and my sudden move cleared that up.  Whatever it was I was just going to smile and let it go, but he continued. 

"With that hair cut I couldn't help but wonder if you were one of those hairy armed dykes." 

And I was just so startled.  It seems stupid, but the first thing I thought was that I have blond hair on my arms and we wear short sleeves so wouldn't he have noticed if I was hairy?  And then my next thought was maybe this was one of those assholes where any hair on your arms makes you hairy.  

By the time I got to the implication that short hair makes you gay and he was using a slur and perhaps all lesbians in his mind are hairy and butch because they won't date him, my ride had shown up and I'd left. 

I was both lucky and unlucky that my ride showed so quickly after the comment because part of me wishes I'd been more with it and confronted him about his language and use of stereo type and the the other part of me is just grateful.  I was just so thrown by that one statement, you know.  There was so much loaded implication about how I look and am viewed even when in a uniform and in a work zone where sexuality isn't expressed and then so much implication about lesbians and what it means to be one and what kind of person he is in general. 

I mean this guy is 5'1" hairy and overweight what the fuck is he doing judging others on their looks?  Seriously, do men some men feel so above general look requirements that they can decide based on looks whether a woman is one of those lesbians and state them casually to coworkers?

I don't know, every since I can remember people have felt entitled to comment positively or negatively on my looks, men more so than women and it's always bugged me.  Until recently though, while some women have asked me out as men sometimes ask me out, no one in my peer group has ever assumed or wondered about my sexual identity based on my looks.  Maybe that's just because I've always showed signs, like boyfriends, that I identified as "straight".  Maybe no one has ever had the guts to say stupid shit like that to my face.  I don't know, it bothered me on so many levels that he would say it more than anything else. 

I know I'm being a little overly sensitive.  People make asshole assumptions based off of looks all the time, I do that a lot too.  I wonder when men and women come in as same sex couples with children whether they're sisters, friends, life partners, and so on.  Sometimes I try to guess what based on body language and interactions and probably looks to some degree.

I don't know.  I didn't like that he said it, I didn't like that I didn't confront him about it and confronting him about it later would be weird and I didn't like when I relayed the story how my mother and sister roled their eyes and called me a hyper sensitive feminist.  This most definetely qualifies as a bitch post.

Been working for about five weeks on my feet and its long enough for me to conclude a few things.  My foot is definitely broken or fractured severely enough that there's this sickening shift that happens sometimes when I'm on my feet for a while and walk the wrong way.  Keeping the weight off my foot by shifting to the other isn't an option as it makes that leg's knee hurt.   I really really need the insurance and enough money to get that looked at.  

On the plus side of work, I really like my co-workers and they've really made that job as good as a food service job gets.  I get free delicious bread extras, I get to make fun coffees and fruity drinks, and my thick skin towards terribly behaved children is returning.  In WY kids had way higher standards for behavoir and there was a short time where I was one of those people who thought there should be a law demanding a certain base standard of behavoir for children.  What can I say, we're all allowed to fall of the wagon once in a while.

I got my tax returns back so while I'm not poor, I'm not rolling in the cash either.  I ate KFC yesterday and it was super disappointing.  I think I've had too much fast food and indulged my whims on that front a bit much.

In other job related news I turned down a sales position and am in the second set of interviews for the environmental advocate position.  That job the more I hear about it, the more I think it would be a dream job for me.  I'm sooooo exicted and nervous for the interview.  I really want things to go well.

In other not love related news, I miss the hell out of WY and will do almost anything to get myself back to Cheyenne, Denver, or Arizona...though the politics in some of those places are scarey, the people are really friendly and welcoming and the view is unbeatable.  I miss the sense of space.  I miss the hell out of the sun.  I actually miss driving fifty miles to whole foods and relaxing because I'm with my people and they are all friendly and kind and welcoming.  I don't know MA people think the same way I do but a lot of them are really cold and aloof and apathetic.  I'm getting really tired of people either ignoring me when I jump into a public conversation or giving me death stare.  If you don't want others to listen then don't speak in public damn it.  I'm totally willing to brave the tornado warnings for the rest of the quality.

Saw K-dog last week and it was good.  It's always nice to catch up with people and what not.  Also, I think it's best if I keep busy.  My dreams have been restless and I'm a bit restless myself.  I feel like I should be doing a million different things and can't quite seem to keep hold on any one of those things.  

Like I'm learn html but the process is slow and fast and slow again.   I'm writing but it's here and there and very patchy.  I'm applying and interviewing and then I'm not.  I'm social and then I'm a recluse again.  I've got no work hours and then I pick up a ton extra.  I'm tired and then I'm full of life.  I have a million things to say to a couple of people but  when the time comes to say them or even just to write it out, I'm silent.  I dunno, it's like I can't hold anything constant even for a few days.  It's weird, and somehow probably on par per usual. 

Zac's sister made it to the finals of American Idol Arkansas talent hunt, still seeing if she'll make the show.  She and her hubby might be splitting soon as apparently he decided to take a nap instead of feed there couple month old baby.  I don't know, she's always a lot of drama and sometimes she makes things up.  Of course if the previous alligation has any truth, an immediate separation is probably best.  

Zac's other sister has been in a bad car accident at which she was at fault for and messed up her knee, though she and everyone else should recover.  Now she does very little talking, won't drive, and has problems being in a car or leaving her parents house.  It's a shame beyond the wrecked car and the injuries because she just started a new job and I'm not sure how she can do that and deal with this.  I feel for here and her family. 

Zac himself is looking for a second job with no hope of ever finding one.  He needs jaw surgery, and his hours at work have been cut back again to barely full time.  Things looks desperate for him, and I feel bad for him.  At the same time some little part of me is so beyond relieved that I'm not involved.  I just couldn' handle all of this, plus looking for my own job and whatnot.  It's too much for me and I don't know how he deals at all except to think that maybe he doesn't deal with it.  I dunno, but I keep him and his family in my thoughts and prayers.

In the timeless optimism of the summer, you will make him a promise you can't keep. You're too young too sure, but most of all too hopeful. The warm golden days fill you along with the knowledge that this man-boy is everything you need. He makes you feel comfortable in your own skin. Every move you make is no longer some form of compromise or half bitter.

Of course it will seem reasonable to tell him you love him and promise to move with him and support him. You'll think his bright smile and eyes filled with endless gratitude is a good sign.

Even in your leap of faith, there will be conditions. Your boy needs a job, he must find a way to finish college, and he must have a place beyond the parental home for you to stay at.

You don't believe he'll manage it of course. It makes you sad, but it also comforts you some. The promise to follow him seems a bit silly now. You still love him and the discontent you feel with your surroundings is stronger. Every day you do to a job that's miserable. The call of school can be heard. It promises a change even if it is also something you don't want. Unfortunately, this promise is false. Graduated now and there is no change from one monotony to the others. It's one more phantom limb in your life.

He will do as you ask and he will call for you when least expected. You will be relieved and worried.

Zac,

So my emotions are finally in such a state of flux that I don't know what they are. I think I'm angry and hurt which is mostly amusing because one reason we dated was that I didn't think you could hurt me. I'd had my share of know down brawls and I was done with them. I needed someone safe and secure.

I still don't know what your raised voice sounds like. I don't much care either.

I thought our relationship meant more. I should have known you have no sticking power. Between an unpleasant place and the possibility of better living, you chose the known quantity. I wasn't safe or sure enough for you to consider the risk.

You choose the stupid risks over those that might actually land you somewhere. I left thinking I just didn't get it, that you were some mystery. You know what, no one gets it!

There is so much I don't get:

1. Why didn't you pick a major and finish. You knew the debt and you meandered around. I was a luxury you didn't have.

2. Why Wyoming over Ian's?

3. How could you just give up without thought? What did I do that made you decide I wasn't enough to even consider and in light of choosing not to, why didn't you lie? You couldn't wait until after I left to break up?

You are on of those people who can never be at fault because you never choose. You are at fault by not choosing sometimes as much and then you never got what you wanted from the whole mess.

Can you even make a decision? Are you capable of being ahead of the curve instead of behind it?

I don't think I want to talk to you or abou you again. You have hurt me so much without meaning it. You don't mean anything ever though.

I'm so hurt, angry, and sad. I don't regret but I don't know if I'd be amenable to seeing you again, even on an as friends basis.

Perhaps the saddest outcome is that I don't hear you. With those I spend so much time with, there are imaginary mental counter parts with whom I speak to in place of the actual. You don't have on because you never have anything to say. You believe people like talking just to be heard, but I don't. I want the response, dialogue, reactions, thoughts. I want another view and balance. You never gave me this. I think you could have but didn't.

I did value your acceptance. Open arms and keen but kind eyes was something I needed, but one can't be done to the exclusion of the other. It's always been hard for you but I'm not binary girl. Either or's aren't my mindset.

What I miss most about you are the touches. It's something that you'd think I could get elsewhere. In some specific scenarios, I know I could do better even. You'd be surprised how reluctant I am to replace those comforts or how many of those warm hugs and rubs fall flat. Sad melancholy those people meant to chase away deepens. Your touch meant support, love, affection, acceptance. Even as I know your body lied, created a support system the rest off you had no intention of giving, I miss it. Its nice to feel that with no strings attached even if it's a lie.

All of this is to say that while I'm a liar and emotionally unavailable at times, you are a deceiver. While I don't love you, can't love what is really there: a scared boy who wants a stability and love from his parents that they will never be able to provide. Someone who chases this illusion subconsciously and single mindedly to the destruction of all else-- and if this isn't you either, I have no clue who you are. Shy, fearful in so many ways I'm not, you were good for me in spite of it all. I'm mostly sorry I wasn't good for you in some way. I hope you figure yourself out. I hope you find what you need. Most of all, I hope you find your joy. I'm sorry I wasn't more helpful in those pursuits. Goodbye.

Never Again Yours.