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Don’t Get Me Wrong…

I really like my job. Really. But what I don’t like as much is people. And there are just a few different kinds of people that come in all the time that drive me a a little crazy.

1. The girls who come in wearing very obvious self-tanner and huge Snookie-poofs and order very complicated and picky salads, and then their boyfriends order an actual sandwich and then they say “ugh, I can’t believe you ordered that, how can you eat all that?” in a whiney, obnoxious tone.

2. People who think they deserve everything there and own it all already just because they have some sort of remote connection to the owner. Or they know his first name.

3. Anyone who wears way too much perfume or cologne.

4. People who hand their sandwiches back to me and say, “Didn’t I say to grill this???”  When, in fact, they did not.

5. The women who randomly walk up to the counter and say “CHOCOLATE MILK?!?” And I’m all, “uhhh, what about it?”  and they’re all “They didn’t bring it over!” and I’m like, “it’s right there in the cooler, you get it yourself.” and they try to act like they were still right to be angry as they walk over to get it.

6. Men who are more than twice my age who insist on “taking me away from all this” and promising that I “will never have to make another sandwich again… for money.”

7. People who order while talking on their phone. Especially when they’re in the middle of a monologue and I feel like I have no way to ask any follow-up questions (what kind of bread, any cheese, what kind of toast, etc.).

8. Girls that come in and only order a toasted bagel with cream cheese to go. Not only because this is the exact scenario in which I almost cut off my finger the other day (my boss doesn’t think a bagel-slicer or pre-sliced bagels is sensible), but because it really makes no sense. We’re a cafe/deli. We don’t even make our own bagels, we get them from New York Bagels every week and flash-freeze them to keep them fresh. So it’s not like there’s any special reason our bagels are better than anyone else’s or anything. So if you really want a to-go, toasted bagel and cream cheese, I really just don’t understand why you don’t just go to Starbucks or Tim Hortons or even New York Bagels.

December, be good to me.

the first snow.
I love it.
When you walk outside into this wondrous scene, everything
everything.
is quiet.
muffled.
muted.
Even the air your lungs try to obtain seems to be far away from you,
waiting.
Still.
holding its breath.
All you can hear is your own boots shuffling along on the concrete sidewalks
and a little place in your mind is sure that time really has stopped, and you don’t even need to go to class
or that you might be the only person left on this planet.
or that perhaps you’ve finally gone deaf.
But you’re walking,
and it comes to mind that you want to be walking with some one.
Now, I don’t care who it is, or what your relationship is like,
but you want them with you.
Perhaps smiling at you over a steaming mug of stupendous hot cocoa,
or speculating about the best defense strategy were you to get ambushed by snowball-throwers.
Or, even some one to there to catch you if you slip.
and you’re never sure if that electrifying jolt of adrenaline is because you nearly fell,
or from their arms protecting you
from melting away
seeping into puddles and icicles and snowflakes and trees
Whether you prefer indoors or outdoors in wintertime, walking inside is so much better this time of year.
the rush of warmth,
the heat hugging you enveloping you
it’s cozyand the white dust in everyone’s hair
melts
away
and you are all left with damp, imperfect tendrils
and rosy cheeks
and cold noses
All the energy and lightness
the Christmas trees(!)
and sweet Christmas lights (!!)
and the giving and the getting and the glowing
and the loving and the lighting and the listening
and the sweets and the songs that get stuck in your head
“bury me in your quiet love
and we
will blow
away”
breath becomes visible
as if a reminder
that you are doing something.
that you are living.
that you are here.
and that the air you’re breathing and living on is the same air sustaining every other person
As for me,
I’m a snowfall kind of girl.
indoors, outdoors, cuddling, curled alone with a book
it’s all for me
this
winter
is all for me
and better call me inside
or I will become part of the snow.

Beat the System

A hall monitor told me my shorts were too short to wear at school. I replied, “Alright, I’ll just go wear them elsewhere, then.” And I left school. Haha, I win.

Up In The Air

We were out past the time when even the stop lights go to sleep and blink an absent yellow.
The effect of the film still reverberated in our minds
and a song with lyrics that perfectly apply to our life at the moment, that might as well have been
written for us,
snuck onto the airwaves.
But we don’t notice until the love song followed it.
The cruise control was saving us from my lead foot.

And the only thing you mentioned was how we managed to hit more potholes than we dodged.

At least there was a water slide.

An actual conversation:

Me: You were in my dream last night.
Boy: I was? What happened?
Me: I dreamt I came to your house for dinner and everyone was horrible and hated me.
…But the cool part is that your house was huge and it had an indoor water slide.
Boy: Honestly, I don’t know where your brain comes up with these things.
Me: Me, either!
Boy: Well…. did we use the water slide at least?
Me: Yeah. Your mom and grandma gave me the small mat to use to slide down and so I didn’t slide down very well and they laughed at me.
… Because for some reason we needed mats to slide on?

Beginnings of senior year.

This year, lately, has consisted primarily of choir. I have choir obligations after school everyday but Tuesdays, and I’m a choir officer so I’m heavily involved in other ways. 

What’s been really, really, weird this year, is that no one’s acknowledged me. I haven’t gotten any encouragement or support or anything. When auditioning for solos, everyone gets cheered for. Not me.  Upon recieving solos and rehearsing them in class, everyone gets cheered for. Except me.

I’m not meaning for this to sound like a pity party, not at all.  It’s an observation of teenager social habits.  Now, I know that I’m not a terrible singer. I wouldn’t have gotten the solos or made it into Mpulse if I weren’t. But I don’t understand how I’m different than anyone else that other people should get compliments or encouragement or cheered on. I’m not ignored, just simply not given positive anythings.

Also, and I know this isn’t news to anybody, but the whole “frienemy” thing is really confusing. And it’s really starting to play into my social life this year. The last thing I’ll ever understadn is why teenagers think it’s appropriate or the smart move to pretend to be some one’s friend but actually hate them. There are three ways that disliking/hating some one should be handled:
 One: You don’t like this person. You’re smart and mature, though, and want to keep drama at bay. So you dislike this person and let it just be. You don’t broadcast it, you keep things civil, you keep calm and deal with it. Or maybe, at the very least, you just ignore them.
 Two:  You don’t like this person. They know it. Directly from you. Now, I’m not saying you bitch them out or you start fights or insult them or spread rumors or do things to hurt them or anything (although, that’s how it usually goes).  But at least they know it and it’s an all-around fact.
But instead, it seems that the “cool” thing to do is to act as if you like some one when you’re around them and then badmouth them awfully behind their backs. That way, the only incriminating evidence they have is vibes, gossip, and implications. Nothing solid. This is definitely to your advantage (which must be why it’s such a popular happening) because if they catch wind of your disdain, then all you have to do is say that it’s just in their head. And they have no proof.
 Three: You actually confront them about it. At an appropriate time. And heaven forbid you have the balls to actually discuss it with them and explain things honestly.

This is not okay.
And I can’t do anything to change this trend except set an example.
And it’s frustrating.

[camping trip]

I just got back from a camping trip to Petoskey, MI with my family this weekend. Here is a synopsis of 85% of the trip. I couldn’t even stop blogging; I actually wrote what I would have blogged.  I’m pathetic.]

Day 1 – Thursday – the 13th

Packing enought crap into our minivan to live outside for four days has never been my favorite part about camping trips. We meant to leave at 10 am, which of course means that we left around noon. The actual car ride was nice because Deanna and I watched Firefly the whole time. In the middle of the trip, though, my mom asked my dad if he had remembered his swimsuit. He didn’t. My dad is not much of a swimmer, but I am. And I forgot to pack my swimsuit, too. Which is not okay because my swimsuit is this one and the first one that I’ve loved. I feel as great as I look in it (which, let’s face it, is a heck of a lot better than in a usual swimsuit). Which is great because I am not the type who can just throw on any bathing suit and believe that I look good in it. I have curves! There’s no way I can just pull over to some Old Navy and grab a bakini – generall, there, they’re made for young or typicallymodel-y girls with no hips, booty, chestage, or anything. But ANYWAY. I did manage to find a good store and a good suit. And a cute dress, too. That’s always a plus.  =]

After that chaos, we hit the road again. We stopped for dinner at a mexican restaurant that will be on Regis & Kelly on Friday(tomorrow) for their fajitas. They won a contest for it or something. so I thought it would be safe to order a (delicious-sounding) garden fajita.
Wrong.
I didn’t find it at all appetising. So my dad and I swapped meals.

But I love being with my family. They’re the best ever.

When we get to our camp site, we found out that the dude gave away the camp site we asked for, so we ended up in a much smaller one. Kinda clausterphoib for a picnic table, two tents, and a place to keep the van out of the road, but it hasn’t turned out to be too bad. Setting up the site has never been my favorite part, either. But once it was finally together, we made a camp fire and toasted marshamllows and ate Grape Nut Flakes (serious YUM). =]

Day 3 – Saturday – the 15th

A penny for you to keep your thoughts to yourself?

Today, I encountered one of the stupidest, most ridiculous examples of teenage selfishness and drama that I’ve ever seen.

I was sitting in the gymnasium’s floor, watching a video on my iPod. A quarter falls next to my leg and I pick it up and put it in my purse.  I looked up to see a boy standing on the track above me, leaning over the railing, glaring at me.  I returned my attention to my iPod and then feet arrive in my line of vision.  I paused my movie and looked at the kid. His hand was outstretched down towards me, and he was still glaring.
          “I want my quarter back!”  He said.
          “You went to the trouble of coming all the way down here for 25 cents?”
          “Give me my quarter back! Now!”   
          “Are you serious? What are you gonna get with it, a gumball?”
 …And he proceeded to call me all sorts of (un)flattering kinds of names and  making a show about it.

It really wasn’t worth the huge ordeal that he was making it, so I dug out my coinpurse to return his measly $.25.  While doing so, my mind was racing through ideas of how I could totally own him, like handing him a nickel or something instead.  Now that I think about it, I should have given him 25 cents in nickels and dimes. But I didn’t.

I gave him two quarters.

I gave him two?

I don’t know why, but I gave him back twice as much as he asked for. I handed the quarters to him and returned to my video. In my peripheral, I saw him turn angrily and then quickly stop to look at his hand. For a moment, I wondered if he might actually say something about it.    But of course, he didn’t.

 

The type to make that big of a deal about some one returning his own quarter wouldn’t bother to even think about returning some one else’s.

Warning: My rambling leads to cannibalism. Not the act of it, just the discussion topic. So far.

I’m totally in one of those moods where I can ramble really effectively and just from one topic to another topic to another. And what the fudge, exactly, does “ranmble effectively” even mean? What’s the goal of rambling? Is there a point?  Some one should run for senator and campeign all about how they should be elected because they can ramble really well and would rock the house down during filibusters (because this is the only scenario I can think of where rambling has a purpose).  And a senator who can rock the House down while rambling is even more impressive because the House is a whole other part of Congress! 

Anyway, what I meant is that I’m in this mood and I kind of like it because it’s like I get to explore my brain and just see where it goes (which can be very dangerous rewarding, I assure you.)

And my friend, Danike, wrote this post and in it, she mentioned about how she didn’t have any peanut butter to go with her jellyed bread and I responded and it makes me kind of worried proud that I was able to ramble this long about possibly the most unimportant point in her post.

My response:

I’ll be your peanut butter! ….Metaphorically, of course. I don’t know how I feel about being covered in bread covered in jelly.  I don’t think I like that very much. And I can’t imagine it’d taste all that great. And I’m getting a little weirded out imagining what I’d look (or taste) like with jelly and bread.  I do know that I wouldn’t taste as good with it as peanut butter. I wasn’t made from peanuts. I was made from human.  And God.  He was a part of it, too.  But I guess if you’re into the whole human-jelly thing, then hit me up.  We might (totally NEVER) work something out. But if you are one of those people who are into human jelly, what part of the human is the jelly from?  Not like I really want to know, but my curiosity always killed all my cats. If it’s made out of organs or goo or something that can be removed from a person and they can still live, is it still canibalism?  But I imagine if you make human-jelly out of the parts of humans that are extraneous, it wouldn’t be as good. But if you made it out of hearts, then wouldn’t that just be poetic?  And because of how poetic it is, people would be all, “dude, if I eat this heart jelly, will I fall in love?” and they’ll think they’re kidding but they’ll all secretly hope that they will and then they will because of the Placebo Effect. But the problem will be that they’ll fall in love without the guaruntee that they’ll have some one to fall in love with. I mean, in love with them back. That would suck if you ate the jelly hoping for a lover and you fell in love with your pet donkey or something like that guy in a Midsummer Night’s Dream. Only he was made INTO a donkey and then had a fairy queen fall in love with him. And she got toally rejected! Poor thing. Apparently, that wasn’t flower juice Puck used, it was heart jelly.  Maybe the donkey man just needed some heart jelly, too. Maybe every one needs heart jelly!  Everyone would “fall in love” with everyone!

I just found out the key to world peace.

Tchyah.