Okay, I’m quite pissed off now, because Ecto Beta just ate a post. Alright, I suppose it didn’t just eat it. All I know is that it was here before, and now it’s not. So I have to start over again.
My sister called me on Wednesday afternoon to ask me about my math test that morning. Kinda. We talked about the math test, and how I feel that I completely bombed it, which is perfectly normal for me. We even discussed how the math problem that took me two hours to do was on the test. I mean, the same exact problem. It was a little weird. And still, it took me a minute or two to figure how to do it all over again.
Then, K drops the conversation down to a new low for misunderstanding. “I started my corset,” she tells me. Which I then made her repeat three times. The first because I didn’t hear what she said. The second two times because I didn’t understand it.
The first thought that popped into my head was that she wore the corset that I got her for Christmas. She hasn’t done so yet, and it is within the realm of possibility that she would find that an acceptable topic of conversation. But no, she meant something else entirely.
She’s talking about piercings.
Which isn’t so strange, actually. K has a lot of piercings. Multiples on her ears, her nipples, her neck, and her wrists (although, she had to take those out since they used to get caught on things).
A corset is a line of piercings, either up the side or the back, that remind one of the way a corset gets laced up. If the piercing is done with rings (instead of bars) it is possible to lace up the piercings when healed.
I didn’t know K wanted a corset done. If she told me previously, it completely went out of my head. I was kinda shocked a little when she told me. She’s super thrilled that the piercer will do all of the piercings for $100 (I don’t know how many total, probably eight), and she had had four done already. She also complained about the pain, and the only response I had was to call her a weirdo.
Really, it was the only response possible. She told me not to tell mom, so I couldn’t say anything about what she had done, since my mom was in the same room with me.
However, she didn’t tell me I couldn’t post about it. So don’t you go telling my mom. And, when she’s all done and laced up, I’ll be sure to take a photo to share. You know you’ll want to see it, and she’ll want a photo for MySpace. Loser.
—”Several Ways to Die Trying,” A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar: Dashboard Confessional
I must be the only woman, who when holding an infant wants one less instead of more.
I went with You to go visit friends I hadn’t seen in a long while, (Long while being four to six months) and who I really hadn’t planned on visiting for a long while yet. But, You had renewed the acquaintance, and had invited me to go along with him. I did, because it was either go, or be ditched on a Saturday night, and I wasn’t about to do that again.
Our friends had just had a baby girl four weeks prior, and the moment I sat down, and soon as L. was able, she handed the baby over to me. Which was fantastic, really, because I love holding babies, actually. W. is a good baby, adorable in all the right places, as wiggly as a worm. She was also fussy, and didn’t want to quiet down until I was standing and moving around. Understandable really, because L. was more active at night while she was pregnant, working overnights and such, so it makes sense that W. is now active at night.
However, once W. was in my arms, I was sentenced to hold her for the rest of the evening. The others played Champions of Norath, while I sat in the back, holding the baby. I was really quite annoyed that no one even talked to me because they were so intent on their game, and I didn’t say much because I know Dustin hates it when I talk while he’s playing, so I figured they would to.
By the way, this video-game-playing-while-I’m-left-out is one of the reasons I didn’t particularly care about hanging out with these friends on a regular basis. Not once have they invited me to play with them, even though they play every time we hang out. Depressing, really.
While I was holding the baby for about two hours, I began to think about how when I had a baby, I’d be sentenced to the same fate. I know everyone says it’s different when it’s your own baby, but I think I’d still feel trapped. I remember looking down at W. face, and thinking to myself that I didn’t know if I really wanted to be responsible for such a little thing for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
While I want a baby (just one), holding someone else’s lets me delay in wanting one for that much longer. Which is a good thing, because I don’t see myself having one any time soon.
—”The One I’m Waiting For,” Mmhmm: Relient K
Last Friday, I had to go to court for a ticket.
It was a really lame ticket, which I got in March for evasion of fare payment on the lightrail. Which is kinda true. I forgot my pass one morning, and I didn’t have the cash on me to buy a ticket when I realized that my pass was on my dresser instead of my pocket.
The really sad and depressing thing about getting the ticket was that I knew I was going to get it before it happened. They don’t do fare checks everyday, and they hardly ever do them in the morning because the trains are too crowded for the officers (either two or four) to get through the car before the next stop. But, every time I forget my pass, I am guaranteed to jinx myself into a fare check and a ticket.
Anyway, I went to court, which is the first time I have ever actually gone to court for a ticket of any kind. After standing in the wrong line because the directions were unclear, I went to wait in the court room. Fare evasion is heard along with traffic tickets and illegal camping. I would suppose everything that has a fine instead of a punishment is heard there.
So, as I’m waiting, there are a lot of people called ahead of me. Illegal camping never gets a fine, since the only people ticketed with that are the homeless. Instead, they get four hours of community service at Loaves and Fishes, which isn’t a hardship, since most of them spend their time there anyway. The homeless get community service instead of a fine in almost all cases.
The traffic violations are interesting, because people seem to think that they have a good enough reason to have their ticket dismissed. For example, one guy received a ticket for driving a vehicle that wasn’t registered, and didn’t have insurance. Why did he get pulled over? Because he ran a stop sign. He pleaded guilty to running the stop sign, but argued that it the registration problem wasn’t his fault because it wasn’t his car, and he didn’t know.
Oddly enough (to him), it was his problem, because he got a ticket for operating the vehicle, not owning the vehicle. So, for reference, if you’re going to drive a car that doesn’t belong to you, double check whether it has all the important documents or not, because it’s still your fault that you’re driving it.
Moving on. Fare evasion for lightrail is a pretty common occurrence, given that there were 10 people in a row who all had the same ticket. When you stand up in front of the judge, she asks “How do you plead?” And most plead guilty, and pay their ticket. There are a few who plead not guilty, and then they have to go about proving that they in fact weren’t evading paying the fare.
By the time I got called, the judge didn’t even ask me how I plead (which I would have plead not guilty). She asked, “Ms. Hightower, do you have a valid pass for March?” Which I did, because I have a semester pass through the college. I showed it to the bailiff, he verified it, and my ticket was dismissed. Which I knew was going to happen, because the office who gave me my ticket told me it would.
In all, it only took me an hour from when I left work to go to court to when I got back to work, so it didn’t take me very long at all. But, if I really had been evading fares, I wouldn’t have gone to court at all. I would have just payed the fine, because well, I really think going to court is a waste of time if they’re going to make you pay it anyway.
But, that’s my day at traffic court. It’s kinda interesting, but small claims is better. Occasionally you get to hear arguments there.
—”But It’s Better When We Do,” A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out: Panic! At the Disco
Yesterday was the first really sunny, cloudless day this spring. Which of course meant that everyone was out.
It’s a bit strange to see so many people out, considering for the last month everyone has been hiding under umbrellas or in doors to stay out of the rain. But, along with seeing these strangers, I get to see all the things they do with one another.
That’s right, I’m talking about public displays of affection. PDAs as you will, is not something I can claim to have never done. Along with any high schooler, I have made out in public, hung all over my boyfriend, and in general made myself look like the tart that I was. But I out grew that.
I have dated [redacted] for over three years now, and I think that only once have we ever made out in public (It was during a movie, and we were in the back row. And on our first date). We’re not very much into PDAs, and at most hold hands. Occasionally there is the quick peck, but never full-on making out.
But, I understand the high school kids, and don’t begrudge them their fun. After all, I did it too.
However, yesterday I was walking from work to the bus stop, and I saw the most… Okay, I don’t know how to describe what went through my head. At 5:15pm (I looked at my watch after I saw this), in full daylight on a perfectly respectable street, I saw a girl giving the driver of her car a blow job. I have no idea how old she was. He looked to be in his late teens, early twenty’s, and enjoying every minute of it. I had to look away, because I was going to laugh badly. And I really wanted a cop to pull up beside them.
Occasionally, on the way to the office after school, I’ll see people in mall parking lot making out on their lunch break, but that has to be the first time I’ve ever seen an actual sexual act during the day that I wasn’t involved with.
So, I suppose this whole rant is really a question in disguise: Why would you (or anyone) perform sexually when there is a crowd? I mean, I understand why the risk of getting caught makes it hotter, I still couldn’t do it in a car traveling down a busy street.
It was just a very strange thing to witness in the middle of the day. And I wanted to share my experience with everyone else. Not that anyone else wanted to know.
—”Add Misson,” Topsy Tuvy: Apex Theory
Oh, I thought of so many good things to write about today, and by the time I got home, I had forgotten them all.
At least it appears that You liked my podcast, and in the face of any other evidence, it’s enough to encourage me to do another one. I won’t promise when or anything, since everyone should know by now that I hardly ever come through.
Moving on.
All this rain in Sacramento has the rivers and creeks flowing to capacity, and thinking about creeks made me think about being little. So, in a round about way, I remembered what I wanted to talk about.
The summer we moved into our house here in Fair Oaks, I ended up spending a lot of time with my little sister. I was nine, or about to be, so we were allowed to roam the neighborhood on our bikes, provided we didn’t cross a major street (who would allow their kids that much freedom these days?).
So my sister and I would head out on our bikes, exploring our new neighborhood, and we found a lot of awful cool things. For starters, there are two elementary schools, a park, and two creeks running through our neighborhood. And the creeks were the best part.
One of them runs right behind our house, and we were never allowed to play in it because there were “things” in the water that were harmful. At least, that’s what our mum told us. The creek that our house backed up to was overgrown, and everyone along the creek had fences that ran right to the creek slope.
However, not so with the other creek. The other creek was cleared, and it seemed more like a creek running through a park, with the way people had gently rolling lawns that they mowed every weekend. My dad explained to me numerous times that property lines for each house actually ran to the middle of the creek, and the reason they had a large space between their fences and the creek was an “easement” for the county to be able to go in a do things with the creek as needed. Whatever it was, I thought it was awesome.
I was always jealous that these people had back gates that led from their backyards to the creek. I always wished we had one in our backyard, never mind that our over grown creek wasn’t anything to look at.
So, this creek with the beautiful easement is where K and I would spend our time. We’d pack a picnick, and go hang out under an overpass that crossed the creek. Right next to the overpass was a blackberry bush, where we’d pick berries after eating lunch. We could spend all day there. I think sometimes we both imagined running away and living there.
I was thinking about the creeks today because on the radio this morning they were talking about creeks running at capacity, and when I was little, the creeks were never that high.
If I remember, sometime this summer I’ll try to go take pictures of the places we used to hang out as kids. I haven’t been there in years, and I do wonder how it’s changed.
—”I Miss You,” Blink-182: Blink-182
Did you miss me?
Like most everyone else, probably not.
I went to San Diego this last weekend for a Fall Out Boy concert (what a surprise!), and I am so tired. It was fun, but long. I didn’t get home until 1am, and I had to get up at 6:30 for school. After a good, long nights sleep, I should be good.
I know you’re all dying to hear about the trip, and let me tell you… podcast. There is no way I could write about this, so if you’re at all interested in what went down, you’ll just have to download and listen. It will definitely be up by Friday, I think. And K took a shit load of photos at the concert, so I should have a few good ones to post by the end of the week as well.
And I wanted to let everyone know that I think I’m losing my mind. I’d been waiting a month to tell You this story that just had to be told, and when I started telling it to him on Sunday night, I was halfway through before he finally interrupted me (which he never does) to tell me that I had already told him. And I don’t even remember the conversation the first time around!
So, that’s it. Just playing catch-up on sleep and school work. Perhaps a real post tomorrow, when I can finally think without getting a headache.
—”Wasting Time,” Hints, Allegations and Things Left Unsaid: Collective Soul
This is all between You, me, and Her.
Things are never as simple as we would like, are they? I have been putting off this post for months now; not knowing what to say and fear of causing a fight had caused a paralysis that proved so hard to break through.
It’s still hard. Words are caught up in my fingers. I can say them, but I can’t type them, and it makes me feel powerless, unable to write what it is that I really mean, and how to express that I really mean what I say.
Do you know how hard it is to say “I can’t be your friend anymore?”
Usually, when friendships die, it is a slow painful death, with both friends able to part amicably. They both know – if they even notice that it’s happening – that it’s for the best. But occasionally there is a time in life when you see that that the ties holding you together are in fact strangling.
It has been an extended week of rain here in the central valley, which has taught me something I really already knew.
No one in California knows how to drive.
Sure, everyone’s taken the permit test, their behind-the-wheel training, and even suffered through the horrible driving test with the creepy DMV test people. Apparently, though, none of that matters when it comes to the rain.
Today I had to drive in the drizzling rain to deliver a transcript to a law office that was —oh, lets say three miles away. And these three miles (six, if you count the drive back), were the worst I’ve encountered in a while. To begin with, I had to drive down Howe Avenue, which—if you live in or around Sacramento—everyone knows is the most congested artery this side of the University. To make matters worse, I had to drive to Howe and University, the worst intersection known to man.
No only is it painted on the street “Do Not Block Intersection,” it’s also posted on multiple signs so that any reasonable driver would have no excuse to miss them. And still, the intersection is blocked every time the light turns green for each new lane direction. This happens on the sunniest of days, and really it’s no surprise that it happens in the rain too.
But what I don’t understand is the people who drive as if it’s sunny when it is pouring down. These people are weaving in and out of traffic, riding other cars’ asses, and generally just forgetting that it’s raining. I especially like how they are always going at least 20 miles over the posted speed limit, and honk at me when I’m hovering just under it. Hello, ever heard of the “as fast as is safe for conditions” rule? I’m so paranoid to be driving on the same road as these people. I’m always afraid of the car sliding out when I brake, and these people are racing up to the line, breaking at the last second.
Also, it irritates me to no end that these people drive without their headlights on. California passed a law last year that stated if your windshield wipers were on, your head lights had to be on, so that other cars would be more likely to see you in the rain. I still see people on the darkest of days, with rain pouring from the sky, driving with their lights off.
What is so hard about turning your lights on?
So, for the record, I am done with rainy days. I wish them over, so that when I get into the car, I won’t be paranoid that some one is going to rear end me in my mother’s Mustang, which would ensure that I never drive another one of her cars again.
I can’t wait for summer to get here.
—”No Rain,” Blind Melon: Blind Melon
You know what’s lame? Being 23 and home on a Friday night—St. Patrick’s day, no less—while the rest of the city is out partying without you.
Oh, wait, it’s me that’s lame. But that’s nothing new.
I am bored out of my mind. Sure, there are things I could do. Math homework, English papers, that sock I was hoping to finish tonight.
But, no. I’ve settled on writing. What, I have no idea. But writing it is. It will probably involve forum postings, a longish email to You, and maybe a short story.
Anyway, I ran into Knorr today, and is it wrong to have a school-girl crush on a writer, but dislike their writing? Knorr is the funniest guy (who still owes me donuts from last semester), and I really enjoyed the class, enough so that I would take another class by him, even if sometimes it felt like we weren’t learning anything.
But, last semester I checked one of his poetry books out of the library, after I couldn’t find it in any local bookstore (sure, Sacramento loves its writers). I didn’t like any of his poems, and it kind of made me sad. He writes about nature, which is all well and good, but just not my thing. It was a little hard to understand where he was coming from, even though I knew where he was coming from.
But, in all Knorr is a great guy, and if I were ten years older, and he was single, I’d be thinking about it. Maybe I shouldn’t be writing about it? I’m always attracted to my decently attractive male teachers. Which might be why I like male teachers.
And, if I hadn’t of dropped my phone in the toilet, I’d have a photo of Knorr to post, that M took last semester. I’m kicking myself right now for not emailing it to myself when I had the chance.
Also, yes, I get to hob-knob with real, published writers. In addition to Knorr, the Dean of the English Department is also published. Granted, there are only poets on campus, but I plan to change that.
— “The World’s Not Waiting (For Five Tired Boys In A Broken Down Van),” Evening Out With Your Girlfriend: Fall Out Boy
Things that I have that I don’t use:
- Dayplanner
- Palmpilot
- Sunbird
I try so hard to stay organized. I try so hard to schedule things so that I don’t run out of time. But, I just hate doing it. The palmpilot is so, so old. I bought it right after high school. Just starting college and the like, and I thought it would be nifty to stay organized in the most geeky way possible. So, it only lasted a few months, if that.
While I had (and still do have) the palmpilot, I was still way, way too attracted to a paper dayplanner. I don’t know what it is. I just love to write in them. So, at the beginning of last semester, I forked out $20 for one I liked, intending to use it to write down when quizzes/tests/homework was due. That only lasted until September. The moment the teachers got behind schedule, my schedule was wrong. And I stopped using it.
This semester, I downloaded Sunbird, intending to use it to stay on top of things. It only lasted two weeks. It’s missing a basic functionality that I was too lazy to work around. There is no way to assign to-do items to a specific day (as in, make it show up on the calendar as well as in the to-do list.
I realize there is an easy work-around, by making those to-do items an event, but really, I just didn’t care.
But, with the middle of the semester bearing down fast, and multiple essays coming due, I figure I had better give it another chance. After all, I am classically-trained to believe that I have a week longer than I really do to finish things up.
I was talking to N a few weeks ago, during the course of a work day. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s secretary for two of the busiest lawyers at a large law firm here in town, as well as a full-time student over at Sac State (English major, naturally). We were discussing ways to stay organized, because as English majors we tend to have multiple essays due right after one another.
She was telling me how on her new laptop she was using Outlook to create alarms that would pop up when she had two weeks/a week/ two days/ one day left to finish the paper, so that she couldn’t forget when it was due, and she’d remember to do it.
Since I spend so much time on my computer, I realized that it is a genius idea. Sunbird has alarms, so I’m going to try to start using it to remind myself when things are due.
So we’ll see. Besides, I have two weeks until the next round of essays are due… I think.
—I am sure someone really famous said this first, but my uncle says it all the time (and still, I can’t remember what the 7th “p” is supposed to be, as he refers to it as the “Seven Ps.”)
