I think it's disgusting that they were told they could marry and then had that revoked.
Unfair. Completely. If you say something, then go through with it.
Disgusting.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
On my traitorous little heart (actually, not really)
Hello. What? A post the day after another? CRAZY! I know. But I'm trying to write down some things I've done in San Francisco (since I'm one of those weirdos who doesn't really like to talk about her trips after she's done with them). Not to worry though, I never actually finish documenting a trip. I have a "travel journal" that I write in for like four days and never finish. It's hilarious, really. And a shame, because I'm sure I'll read them one day and love it and relive those lovely trips all over again.
So. Woke up too early today. 7 something. Because my mother almost keeled over in the shower. (Moral of the story: Don't have 14 take offs and landings in a 2 week span or your internal ear equilibrium or whatever will be seriously messed up.)
Made some croissants in the room (yes, we lugged our little oven all the way here. It's just really damn convenient! And I think wasting money on breakfast is ridiculous. Especially when all you really need is a little toast and cream cheese). Got dressed eventually. Headed out (at about 9:30-ish? I ate shit on the computer for a long time lol).
Btw, totally cold in San Francisco. TOTALLY. Wore a jacket all day. And my cheeks are wind-burned, the way they always are in the cold. Very uncomfortable feeling. I don't know how it's possible my skin is so damn sensitive.
Walked MILES (ok, a few blocks. About fifteen? I don't know. And too lazy to figure it out) to Fisherman's Wharf for the farmer's market. Which was really, really cute. And Cali fruit is so beautiful! And tastes good! And I had lavender salt (yum) and smelled fresh lavender (more yum--favorite smell ever) and had a delicious Burmese no-se-que curry sausage with absolutely divine mango cilantri chutney ($5.50). Then my mom went crazy (we'll blame it on the steroids) and I got cranky and we went back to the hotel to drop stuff off. Btw, super weirdos in SF. And lots of homeless people. And people running. And dogs. Everywhere. Like, people walking their dogs. Everywhere. On the bus. In buildings. In restaurants... Freaks. All of them. Again, to reiterate: FREAKS in SF and beautiful produce.
[Got super irritated within five minutes of our walk, too, because it was misting. So, not enough to take out the umbrella, and I'd look weird if I did. Damn.]
Then we walked (more. I know. Wtf.) to Beach & ... &... Damn, forgot the name of the street. Powell? No, that's before. Hyde? Maybe? Whatever. Waited in line for the motherfucking street car for AN HOUR AND A HALF in the freaking cold while some guy played the guitar (super badly, what's even worse) and begged for money. I wanted to throw a rock at him. He really sucked. Seriously. I've seen fifth graders play better. But moving on. The wait was totally worth it. Went up and down several hills (puts Tally into some perspective, lol) and freaked out a bit on the steep downhill slope. Idk. I just... Wasn't into that angle much. The fact that other streetcars were passing within five inches (not kidding) didn't help much. Ended up at Union Square (the shopping district) that has A HUGE FOREVER XXI I DIDN'T GO INTO!!!! But it was cold. And we were getting hungry. So. Hopped onto the F train--in the wrong direction. Got to the end, then had to go back in the way we came, lol. I sat to some guy who was talking to himself. People smell funny in SF. Eventually made it back to the hotel area (Mason & North Point, right off Fisherman's Wharf) and went in search of food (5:30 pm by now. Yes, we eat abnormally early on vacation. I know it's weird).
Now, I wanted to eat at this pizza place called the Pizza Zone or whatever (we're traveling cheap, fyi). My mom took one step in there and got "disgusted" and demanded we walk another three blocks to this Mexican place (my feet hurt by now and I just wanted to eat and get to the hotel). The Pizza Zone looked great--it was full of locals, it was relatively cheap, it was run by Chinos. It's very Jerry & Joe's-like. But a little bit more scattered, lol. So onward we trek to the Las Margaritas. Not only is the place completely EMPTY (y eso que it's near the tourist strip), the cheapest entree's $14. So we go back to the Pizza Zone. And GUESS WHAT? Delicious. Not like Jerry & Joe's, of course. But still super good. And cheap! ($9.80)
Went to Safeway again to buy my mom coffee and to get more Diet Coke (addicted. I know). Oh, I tried this Hibiscus tea today that was really yummy.
On our way into Safeway, we pass by this guy who's super happy and waving to Idk who across the street and I take a breath and... Wtf? Pot? So I go to my mom, "That smells like pot." "Yep, it sure does," she replies. I know pot when I smell it. On the street! Just smoking a joint! It was super funny. No wonder he's in such a good mood?
Back to the hotel we went. And now I'm here, in bed, with a blister on my big toe.
And I believe that's all.
Thanks for reading. :)
So. Woke up too early today. 7 something. Because my mother almost keeled over in the shower. (Moral of the story: Don't have 14 take offs and landings in a 2 week span or your internal ear equilibrium or whatever will be seriously messed up.)
Made some croissants in the room (yes, we lugged our little oven all the way here. It's just really damn convenient! And I think wasting money on breakfast is ridiculous. Especially when all you really need is a little toast and cream cheese). Got dressed eventually. Headed out (at about 9:30-ish? I ate shit on the computer for a long time lol).
Btw, totally cold in San Francisco. TOTALLY. Wore a jacket all day. And my cheeks are wind-burned, the way they always are in the cold. Very uncomfortable feeling. I don't know how it's possible my skin is so damn sensitive.
Walked MILES (ok, a few blocks. About fifteen? I don't know. And too lazy to figure it out) to Fisherman's Wharf for the farmer's market. Which was really, really cute. And Cali fruit is so beautiful! And tastes good! And I had lavender salt (yum) and smelled fresh lavender (more yum--favorite smell ever) and had a delicious Burmese no-se-que curry sausage with absolutely divine mango cilantri chutney ($5.50). Then my mom went crazy (we'll blame it on the steroids) and I got cranky and we went back to the hotel to drop stuff off. Btw, super weirdos in SF. And lots of homeless people. And people running. And dogs. Everywhere. Like, people walking their dogs. Everywhere. On the bus. In buildings. In restaurants... Freaks. All of them. Again, to reiterate: FREAKS in SF and beautiful produce.
[Got super irritated within five minutes of our walk, too, because it was misting. So, not enough to take out the umbrella, and I'd look weird if I did. Damn.]
Then we walked (more. I know. Wtf.) to Beach & ... &... Damn, forgot the name of the street. Powell? No, that's before. Hyde? Maybe? Whatever. Waited in line for the motherfucking street car for AN HOUR AND A HALF in the freaking cold while some guy played the guitar (super badly, what's even worse) and begged for money. I wanted to throw a rock at him. He really sucked. Seriously. I've seen fifth graders play better. But moving on. The wait was totally worth it. Went up and down several hills (puts Tally into some perspective, lol) and freaked out a bit on the steep downhill slope. Idk. I just... Wasn't into that angle much. The fact that other streetcars were passing within five inches (not kidding) didn't help much. Ended up at Union Square (the shopping district) that has A HUGE FOREVER XXI I DIDN'T GO INTO!!!! But it was cold. And we were getting hungry. So. Hopped onto the F train--in the wrong direction. Got to the end, then had to go back in the way we came, lol. I sat to some guy who was talking to himself. People smell funny in SF. Eventually made it back to the hotel area (Mason & North Point, right off Fisherman's Wharf) and went in search of food (5:30 pm by now. Yes, we eat abnormally early on vacation. I know it's weird).
Now, I wanted to eat at this pizza place called the Pizza Zone or whatever (we're traveling cheap, fyi). My mom took one step in there and got "disgusted" and demanded we walk another three blocks to this Mexican place (my feet hurt by now and I just wanted to eat and get to the hotel). The Pizza Zone looked great--it was full of locals, it was relatively cheap, it was run by Chinos. It's very Jerry & Joe's-like. But a little bit more scattered, lol. So onward we trek to the Las Margaritas. Not only is the place completely EMPTY (y eso que it's near the tourist strip), the cheapest entree's $14. So we go back to the Pizza Zone. And GUESS WHAT? Delicious. Not like Jerry & Joe's, of course. But still super good. And cheap! ($9.80)
Went to Safeway again to buy my mom coffee and to get more Diet Coke (addicted. I know). Oh, I tried this Hibiscus tea today that was really yummy.
On our way into Safeway, we pass by this guy who's super happy and waving to Idk who across the street and I take a breath and... Wtf? Pot? So I go to my mom, "That smells like pot." "Yep, it sure does," she replies. I know pot when I smell it. On the street! Just smoking a joint! It was super funny. No wonder he's in such a good mood?
Back to the hotel we went. And now I'm here, in bed, with a blister on my big toe.
And I believe that's all.
Thanks for reading. :)
Friday, May 29, 2009
On why I'm in bed at 4 pm, ready to sleep
Bueno. Aqui estoy, en San Francisco (which I've heard called San Fran, Frisco, Gay Bay, etc.). I'm exhausted.
Already, I feel like it's been a week.
We'll start with last night, at about eleven p.m. My knee hurt. I just figured I'd been sitting on it weird or something. No big, right?
WRONG.
My lovely friends (who had come over to keep me company and see me off before my trip--and I'll give credit where it's due: Elise, Cris, Mai, Susie, and Deya) and I went to McD's for a late dinner. I get out of Mai's car and... Wtf? My knee's killing me. I limp home. I limp around as I finish my packing (what did I forget, btw? My hair brush. fml. Whatever. No big, I guess. I almost forgot my jeans and THAT would've sucked). I limp into the shower. I limp into my bed. By the time I'm in my bed, I can't straighten it or bend it past a certain angle. It keeps me up for a bit because my usual sleeping position (on my stomach) wasn't comfortable. But it'll be fine by the time I wake up, right?
WRONG.
I wake up at 5:30 a.m. (yep, only about 2 1/2 hours of sleep). I move my leg to see how it is, and it sort twinges, but nothing horrible. I'll warm my leg up and it'll be just a faint memory. Eh, not so much. I go to put my weight on it and have this huge surge of pain in my knee. So... Ok. Got it. No weight on my foot. What? Can't bend it at all? Bueno... This complicates things.
Turns out I couldn't even walk. I sort of hopped on one foot to my mom's (by now, I was near tears because it REALLY hurt) and she wrapped it... Sort of. Using cotton strips and tape. It was... ghetto. Real ghetto. And I KNOW we have the wrap thing somewhere in my house, but because my MOTHER CAN'T REMEMBER WHERE SHE PUTS ANYTHING, we couldn't find it.
But at least that's the worst of it, right?
WRONG.
I'm sitting on my mom's bed as she wraps my knee and start swaying and feeling nauseous. Didn't know why. I figured I just had to eat something or drink water or... idk. Ride it out. So I'm going about my business (and 6:15 a.m. is approaching faster and faster and I'm nowhere near ready) and suddenly things start going black. Very black. I grabbed the corner of my shelf and rested my head. Wobbled with my pathetic limp to my bed. Threw myself on it. My mom says I'd lost all color.
After a five-minute rest, my color had returned. I think I'd gotten up too quickly before. I got up slowly and I felt perfect. Except for my stupid knee.
Fast forward through: getting to the airport with my lame knee, jump the security line because I can't walk, get driven by a golf cart to D49, get on plane. I used a lot of my upper body strength (not that I have much, lol) to hoist myself into and out of chairs and golf carts and such.
Then the flight. I don't remember much about it, truth be told. I was... fuzzy, lol. Took this like SUPER DRAMAMINE pill thing that knocked me right out. I vaguely remember feeling the pull of the plane as we took off. I was in and out for the rest of the trip. Saw the Spaceballs cartoon though, which was hilarious. I didn't even know I had it on my iPod.
So. In San Fran. (Btw, we descended TWICE cuz the pilot didn't like his chances. Which is nerve-wracking. Never had that happen to me before. But this time I was happy off a regular Dramamine and a Zofran, so I was in no mood to argue.)
My mom's high, btw. Off her steroids (for her vertigo). So she's completely not there today. It's super irritating. So I have to drag her to the other end of the airport to catch the BART (subway-like thing). Then we catch the F train or something. Yeah. STUPID. It's a cable car thing that jerks around and me, dragging our huge suitcase and with my ghetto wrap and trying to keep upright while trying NOT to put any unneeded pressure on my knee (which had felt much better by then). And by this point, it's about 3:30 p.m. Miami time and all I've had to eat since I woke up at 5:30 a.m. was three crackers with cheese and half a handful of nuts on the airplane ($4, fyi). I was ready to eat that hobo on the corner.
We ate at the hotel restaurant (after a three block walk to the hotel). My mom and I split a chicken panini with mushrooms. INCREDIBLY good. Crazy good. I inhaled it. Then went to Safeway (which is a cross between Whole Foods and Publix, minus the organic stuff. Note: Cali fruit looks really pretty. Much prettier than Florida fruit. Also, one can smell the flowers as you walk by... Five feet away).
And then here I am. In bed. With my IcyHot and my knee wrap (no ghetto tape) and my Safeway chocolate chip cookies.
That's where I'm at.
This is where I shall stay. At least for the evening. I'm exhausted.
Thanks for reading.
Already, I feel like it's been a week.
We'll start with last night, at about eleven p.m. My knee hurt. I just figured I'd been sitting on it weird or something. No big, right?
WRONG.
My lovely friends (who had come over to keep me company and see me off before my trip--and I'll give credit where it's due: Elise, Cris, Mai, Susie, and Deya) and I went to McD's for a late dinner. I get out of Mai's car and... Wtf? My knee's killing me. I limp home. I limp around as I finish my packing (what did I forget, btw? My hair brush. fml. Whatever. No big, I guess. I almost forgot my jeans and THAT would've sucked). I limp into the shower. I limp into my bed. By the time I'm in my bed, I can't straighten it or bend it past a certain angle. It keeps me up for a bit because my usual sleeping position (on my stomach) wasn't comfortable. But it'll be fine by the time I wake up, right?
WRONG.
I wake up at 5:30 a.m. (yep, only about 2 1/2 hours of sleep). I move my leg to see how it is, and it sort twinges, but nothing horrible. I'll warm my leg up and it'll be just a faint memory. Eh, not so much. I go to put my weight on it and have this huge surge of pain in my knee. So... Ok. Got it. No weight on my foot. What? Can't bend it at all? Bueno... This complicates things.
Turns out I couldn't even walk. I sort of hopped on one foot to my mom's (by now, I was near tears because it REALLY hurt) and she wrapped it... Sort of. Using cotton strips and tape. It was... ghetto. Real ghetto. And I KNOW we have the wrap thing somewhere in my house, but because my MOTHER CAN'T REMEMBER WHERE SHE PUTS ANYTHING, we couldn't find it.
But at least that's the worst of it, right?
WRONG.
I'm sitting on my mom's bed as she wraps my knee and start swaying and feeling nauseous. Didn't know why. I figured I just had to eat something or drink water or... idk. Ride it out. So I'm going about my business (and 6:15 a.m. is approaching faster and faster and I'm nowhere near ready) and suddenly things start going black. Very black. I grabbed the corner of my shelf and rested my head. Wobbled with my pathetic limp to my bed. Threw myself on it. My mom says I'd lost all color.
After a five-minute rest, my color had returned. I think I'd gotten up too quickly before. I got up slowly and I felt perfect. Except for my stupid knee.
Fast forward through: getting to the airport with my lame knee, jump the security line because I can't walk, get driven by a golf cart to D49, get on plane. I used a lot of my upper body strength (not that I have much, lol) to hoist myself into and out of chairs and golf carts and such.
Then the flight. I don't remember much about it, truth be told. I was... fuzzy, lol. Took this like SUPER DRAMAMINE pill thing that knocked me right out. I vaguely remember feeling the pull of the plane as we took off. I was in and out for the rest of the trip. Saw the Spaceballs cartoon though, which was hilarious. I didn't even know I had it on my iPod.
So. In San Fran. (Btw, we descended TWICE cuz the pilot didn't like his chances. Which is nerve-wracking. Never had that happen to me before. But this time I was happy off a regular Dramamine and a Zofran, so I was in no mood to argue.)
My mom's high, btw. Off her steroids (for her vertigo). So she's completely not there today. It's super irritating. So I have to drag her to the other end of the airport to catch the BART (subway-like thing). Then we catch the F train or something. Yeah. STUPID. It's a cable car thing that jerks around and me, dragging our huge suitcase and with my ghetto wrap and trying to keep upright while trying NOT to put any unneeded pressure on my knee (which had felt much better by then). And by this point, it's about 3:30 p.m. Miami time and all I've had to eat since I woke up at 5:30 a.m. was three crackers with cheese and half a handful of nuts on the airplane ($4, fyi). I was ready to eat that hobo on the corner.
We ate at the hotel restaurant (after a three block walk to the hotel). My mom and I split a chicken panini with mushrooms. INCREDIBLY good. Crazy good. I inhaled it. Then went to Safeway (which is a cross between Whole Foods and Publix, minus the organic stuff. Note: Cali fruit looks really pretty. Much prettier than Florida fruit. Also, one can smell the flowers as you walk by... Five feet away).
And then here I am. In bed. With my IcyHot and my knee wrap (no ghetto tape) and my Safeway chocolate chip cookies.
That's where I'm at.
This is where I shall stay. At least for the evening. I'm exhausted.
Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
On how I've realized my taste in music has changed...
Yeah. I've gotta go through my files and delete a whole BUNCH of crap. Por que enough's enough. Like... Seriously? What the hell do I have JS on my iPod for? I never realized all the crap I have on my iPod. Y eso que I made a major sweep of it when I lost my music the second time around (for example: I no longer have that stupid R. Kelly song "Step In the Name of Love." Seriously, dude? Stfu. But I do still have the Ignition Remix. And love it. And yes, STILL know all the words, lol. And the dance moves Ginz and I made up waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back when. And "Snake." That was some good ish. I heard "Country Grammar" on my drive home the other day and yeah. I had a total blast). But I've gotta go back through. And suddenly, what, I like Coldplay? I can even stand some House-y, techno stuff (my father will be so proud)?
[I still hate it when those stupid songs last for 8 minutes and have the SAME freaking beat for hours and hours and hours... They're only good when you're rolling or something. Which I never am. So shut up.]
I think it really occurred to me that my tastes have changed (even in just the past year) when one of those Paul Oakenfold mixes came on my shuffle this morning (as I was fighting traffic on US 1 and around 19th ave). For once, didn't change it. And... liked it? Eerie. I know.
[Compare this to my hip-hop/rap years and... well. It's a change. And funny, I think all current hip-hop/rap SUCKS.]
Work. Yeah, started work already. Loving it? (As much as you can love such a job, lol.) I haven't messed up or anything yet, so things are going well (though I TOTALLY ate it off a chair today, right in front of my two bosses [yeah, ok, so my bosses are my cousin Lania and Carlos, who wears Converse to work and is super chill and laid back. And really, actually, just Lania is my boss. It's just horrible. I'm such a clutz. Oh well. Love me for me, or deal? People seem to be my friends anyway, so I guess it's okay]. It was so not very graceful). Now, if only it weren't so DAMN FAR. Ugh. The ONLY thing I like about the distance is that I get two hours a day (well, the days I work) to listen to music. It really chills me out.
Leaving for San Fran Friday. Blah. And early too, more's the pity. The mornig and I don't mix.
I had a very fun little field trip with Elise today. Which involved visiting that French bakery by my house I wanted to visit for the past six months and the newly opened pool (no, I don't know what they did to change it). Amongst other things... Lol. "Waitress" included.
AND LUNCH WITH BETTYYYYYYYY <3
Ah.
Life is good.
:)
I'm gonna be super sad when the summer's over, though not too. I'm excited for fall. And... dare I say it... Missing FIU? A tad, yeah. I drove past Friday and it broke my heart a wee little bit.
Though I'll probably get more sleep during fall semester, since I REFUSE to have morning classes.
I miss sleep...
Speaking of....
[I still hate it when those stupid songs last for 8 minutes and have the SAME freaking beat for hours and hours and hours... They're only good when you're rolling or something. Which I never am. So shut up.]
I think it really occurred to me that my tastes have changed (even in just the past year) when one of those Paul Oakenfold mixes came on my shuffle this morning (as I was fighting traffic on US 1 and around 19th ave). For once, didn't change it. And... liked it? Eerie. I know.
[Compare this to my hip-hop/rap years and... well. It's a change. And funny, I think all current hip-hop/rap SUCKS.]
Work. Yeah, started work already. Loving it? (As much as you can love such a job, lol.) I haven't messed up or anything yet, so things are going well (though I TOTALLY ate it off a chair today, right in front of my two bosses [yeah, ok, so my bosses are my cousin Lania and Carlos, who wears Converse to work and is super chill and laid back. And really, actually, just Lania is my boss. It's just horrible. I'm such a clutz. Oh well. Love me for me, or deal? People seem to be my friends anyway, so I guess it's okay]. It was so not very graceful). Now, if only it weren't so DAMN FAR. Ugh. The ONLY thing I like about the distance is that I get two hours a day (well, the days I work) to listen to music. It really chills me out.
Leaving for San Fran Friday. Blah. And early too, more's the pity. The mornig and I don't mix.
I had a very fun little field trip with Elise today. Which involved visiting that French bakery by my house I wanted to visit for the past six months and the newly opened pool (no, I don't know what they did to change it). Amongst other things... Lol. "Waitress" included.
AND LUNCH WITH BETTYYYYYYYY <3
Ah.
Life is good.
:)
I'm gonna be super sad when the summer's over, though not too. I'm excited for fall. And... dare I say it... Missing FIU? A tad, yeah. I drove past Friday and it broke my heart a wee little bit.
Though I'll probably get more sleep during fall semester, since I REFUSE to have morning classes.
I miss sleep...
Speaking of....
Saturday, May 9, 2009
On why I'm so glad I'm at FIU
This past week was the last week that the seniors of 2009 had at FCS.
I was looking through the pictures of the people who I still have as friends (I went through back in like October and just weeded people out after I heard people were talking shit about me. Life is just easier that way). And all I see are sad faces and "omg i'm gonna miss this place" and "i'm so sad!" and I just feel like slapping them all upside the head, laughing bitterly in the face, and saying, "No, you really won't. You won't even ever look back. By the way? FCS doesn't teach their students how to really study for a class, and their science department is as weak as your mother's fat ankles, SO if I were you, I'd watch myself that first semester."
I don't, of course. No reason to be a bitch so unnecessarily, especially since I haven't spoken to these people in months. A year. I just sit there and watch. And I know that for some, FCS will shut its doors to them and reject them, and it's okay. The world's sort of better without them anyway. And I love that I can honestly say that I'm happier now and freer and more okay with myself than I've ever been before. Less close-minded. Less hateful. More... thirsty? I think that's a good word. I'm not just okay with sitting here for the rest of my life. I want to do something more (yay for au pairing for dogs in France!! w00t w00t! Lol).
But I groan at just the thought of those little twerps being at FIU next semester. Ugh.
(Clarice, my little angel, just looked at me and did her strange grunt/whine noise. She clearly agrees. Ah, and there she goes to sit on my foot... Thanks, Clari. :\)
Anyway, it's been months since I posted. That's okay. I also started writing again in my diary, trying to recount all that's happened in the past three years (since somehow three years have passed without my writing a single word).
*shrug* I've never been good at writing on a schedule OR a deadline (yes, perhaps I'm going into the wrong profession, lolololol).
I start work on Monday, and even though I'm apprehensive at all the Spanish-speaking I'll have to do, I'm still excited. It's just exactly the sort of sweet little job that I wanted for the summer. And since Daddy dropped the lovely little gift of possibly living in his house after he moves out (for freeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, yayyyyy!) with two of my friends (not for free, but that's their problem, lol), my summer's looking way, way up.
And I think I'll go write some. My poor, poor neglected book. Eh. I'm just not angry/depressed/mopey enough to write anything good, so I don't see the point in bothering? I'll just end up hating it since usually my being in a good mood results in writing happy things and happy things... Bueno, make for a very, very boring story.
If I wanted happy, I'd watch Disney Channel.
(Which reminds me, my cable downstairs is being totally lame-o. There's sound. But no picture. Dumb much?)
Thanks for reading.
I was looking through the pictures of the people who I still have as friends (I went through back in like October and just weeded people out after I heard people were talking shit about me. Life is just easier that way). And all I see are sad faces and "omg i'm gonna miss this place" and "i'm so sad!" and I just feel like slapping them all upside the head, laughing bitterly in the face, and saying, "No, you really won't. You won't even ever look back. By the way? FCS doesn't teach their students how to really study for a class, and their science department is as weak as your mother's fat ankles, SO if I were you, I'd watch myself that first semester."
I don't, of course. No reason to be a bitch so unnecessarily, especially since I haven't spoken to these people in months. A year. I just sit there and watch. And I know that for some, FCS will shut its doors to them and reject them, and it's okay. The world's sort of better without them anyway. And I love that I can honestly say that I'm happier now and freer and more okay with myself than I've ever been before. Less close-minded. Less hateful. More... thirsty? I think that's a good word. I'm not just okay with sitting here for the rest of my life. I want to do something more (yay for au pairing for dogs in France!! w00t w00t! Lol).
But I groan at just the thought of those little twerps being at FIU next semester. Ugh.
(Clarice, my little angel, just looked at me and did her strange grunt/whine noise. She clearly agrees. Ah, and there she goes to sit on my foot... Thanks, Clari. :\)
Anyway, it's been months since I posted. That's okay. I also started writing again in my diary, trying to recount all that's happened in the past three years (since somehow three years have passed without my writing a single word).
*shrug* I've never been good at writing on a schedule OR a deadline (yes, perhaps I'm going into the wrong profession, lolololol).
I start work on Monday, and even though I'm apprehensive at all the Spanish-speaking I'll have to do, I'm still excited. It's just exactly the sort of sweet little job that I wanted for the summer. And since Daddy dropped the lovely little gift of possibly living in his house after he moves out (for freeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, yayyyyy!) with two of my friends (not for free, but that's their problem, lol), my summer's looking way, way up.
And I think I'll go write some. My poor, poor neglected book. Eh. I'm just not angry/depressed/mopey enough to write anything good, so I don't see the point in bothering? I'll just end up hating it since usually my being in a good mood results in writing happy things and happy things... Bueno, make for a very, very boring story.
If I wanted happy, I'd watch Disney Channel.
(Which reminds me, my cable downstairs is being totally lame-o. There's sound. But no picture. Dumb much?)
Thanks for reading.
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