sundays mean pictures of my flowers.. my back hurts. i have a big bruise on my knee, and i have no idea how i got it. last night must have been fun.
p.s. designated drivers rock my world.
When You're Not Looking
Sunday, April 24, 2005
sundays mean pictures of my flowers.. my back hurts. i have a big bruise on my knee, and i have no idea how i got it. last night must have been fun.
p.s. designated drivers rock my world.
Friday, April 22, 2005
i don't know about you, but i don't open bills the day i get them. i mean, i'm usually just getting home from work and open the mailbox in hope for news from home. instead of pictures of my niece or new movies from netflix, more often that not, its a business envelope with our names printed behind the plastic screen. i'll take it inside, throw it down with my purse and keys, and forget about it. i water my flowers & watch a movie. and then, maybe, if it was a good day, i'll open it. but it just blows your day when you come feeling good cuz you weedled more hours or got a raise, and then you realize most of your money is already gone.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
why some stuff should be left to professionals
i was doing a root touch up. i wanted to looked beautifully blonde for my husband's return next saturday. instead, i received red roots on mostly blonde hair. i hope whoever you are will go to the deepest part of hell, for making my hair two totally different colors. i rushed to wal-mart with a scarf on my head, but the front part of my head was red and the ponytail blond. i franticly grabbed a box that looked untampered. hopefully, my two-toned hair gave the cashier something to be entertained over. she looked like she was having a bad day. and i now currently have a hair color i don't want. i admit, had it not been my hair...this would be funny. to the trickster that likes to exchange hairdye box contents at the new bern wal-mart, i still hope you go to hell.
I saw this near the community theater. It stuck out around all the touristy revitalization. The theater's putting on a production of Godspell around my birthday. I think I'll make Josh take me as a birthday gift.
today is my day off. i headed out today around noon. i hit the library as usual, seeing what new books they've recently received. i love having a library card!
today is another gorgeous day in north carolina. the climate is one of the things new bern has going for it. it snowed once this winter, and i only had to scrap my windows a total of three times. it has taken awhile to get to spring. but today, the sun is shining...the wind is blowing my hair around and into my face.
i headed downtown into the historical district. they have had a great revitalization down there in the last couple of years. i found a cafe that has jazz nights on fridays. so i know where i'm going tomorrow night. and there are a good handful of local art galleries/supply stores/framing places. new bern's about twice the size of taylorville, but its downtown has this kind of community and culture that i would have loved to grow up around. the cynic in me was thinking that this is just the tourism district. but there were businessmen sitting on the benches all around the downtown, eating lunches outdoors and enjoying some time out of the office.
i wound up at union point park down by the river. i got a hot dog and coke and ended up having a nice chat about new bern's history with a 60-something man in a leather bikers vest and chaps. it was wonderful, sitting under a tree with this complete stranger and talking about the civil war. i guess, there was a civil war battle here. who knew?
all that and only for a total of $2.87....
today is another gorgeous day in north carolina. the climate is one of the things new bern has going for it. it snowed once this winter, and i only had to scrap my windows a total of three times. it has taken awhile to get to spring. but today, the sun is shining...the wind is blowing my hair around and into my face.
i headed downtown into the historical district. they have had a great revitalization down there in the last couple of years. i found a cafe that has jazz nights on fridays. so i know where i'm going tomorrow night. and there are a good handful of local art galleries/supply stores/framing places. new bern's about twice the size of taylorville, but its downtown has this kind of community and culture that i would have loved to grow up around. the cynic in me was thinking that this is just the tourism district. but there were businessmen sitting on the benches all around the downtown, eating lunches outdoors and enjoying some time out of the office.
i wound up at union point park down by the river. i got a hot dog and coke and ended up having a nice chat about new bern's history with a 60-something man in a leather bikers vest and chaps. it was wonderful, sitting under a tree with this complete stranger and talking about the civil war. i guess, there was a civil war battle here. who knew?
all that and only for a total of $2.87....
Monday, April 18, 2005
i just turned off hotel rawanda (good, but sad so far) to figure out where this weird noise was coming from. i followed the noise outside and listened to the bugs sing. it is beautiful outside tonight, and it sounds like the band that practices in storage G is getting better. if only i could see the stars like i can at home...
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Saturday, April 16, 2005
a view from my front porch in illinois. i want our formal ceremony to be there once the marine corps can make up its mind when my husband is going to be wherever it is they want to put him.
Friday, April 15, 2005
I indulged in Taco Bell today, for old times sake. Mexican pizza & a beef burrito supreme, please? I would kill to go back to the days of constant drunken Taco Bell...and no responsibilites, of course.
I took my plants, including soome of my more developed seedlings outside today. I was and still am a little nervous about them being outside and all. Silly, I know. But when the first batch died, I told Josh that we were horrible parents. Anyway, I guess the mechanical agitation of the wind is good for them.
I researched the whole music-plant thing. Music prolly has no effect on plants, with the exception of possible mechanical agitation. More likely, it has an effect on the gardener, who is paying more attention to the plants to see if the experiment works. I'm still playing the tiny seedlings in my laundry closet music though. Today it was merengue. Tomorrow its either Postal Service or Lil Jon. Meh, who knows?
I feel a lil silly being so involved with this plant thing right now. But I'm trying to put down some roots (forgive the pun), even if they're potted roots. Plus, it's spring, fockers! And, to quote one Morgan, "I'm a fucking pretty, pretty princess".
Talked to my mom today. She had Ryanne for the night, and Ryanne blew a raspberry at me over the phone. She loves blowing raspberries, saying "no", shaking things, and pounding on mirrors and windows. What can I say? I'm enthralled.
Anyway, I guess it (the filing of the divorce) was in the newspaper today. Oddly enough, I wanted to ask her to clip it out & send it to me.
Lately, I've gone through all my pictures, familial and otherwise, and wrote who, what, when, when, and any memories I have. For posterity's sake, for my sake. I grew up, knowing exactly where I came from and always having a good understanding of myself. Now as my old life crumbles around me, I need to hold on to something.
Now I'm not sure where I am or where I'm going. As Andy said to Phil, "I'm sort of in a transistion". I'm a stereotypical angry 20-somethng, not yet jaded. Angry, becase I'm in part of life where home isn't home, and here isn't home. Its in the bathtub with steam & quiet thoughts. Its there on a drunken Sunday, when I'm talking religion with some Marine who thinks he found divine intervention on the shitter in Iraq. Its there at Arby's as I prep food. It exists in the tears that spread slowly on my pillow at night. Home exists in that singular moment's self.
Right now, I'm homesick for a home that doesn't exist. Some things can't be taken away...
the feeling of winter's cold, clean night air entering your lungs...
the way it smells when they start plowing the fields...
how you can smell the rain before it storms in summer...
I do miss more tangible things, but those simple pleasures I miss.
All this & more, I've decided, is why I'm prone to writing more day-to-day things now. I'm not striving for "deep" like I did in high school. I need to hold on the momentary selves, collect them, follow them down the primrose path. Hopefully, it evolves past merengue for my flowers.
I took my plants, including soome of my more developed seedlings outside today. I was and still am a little nervous about them being outside and all. Silly, I know. But when the first batch died, I told Josh that we were horrible parents. Anyway, I guess the mechanical agitation of the wind is good for them.
I researched the whole music-plant thing. Music prolly has no effect on plants, with the exception of possible mechanical agitation. More likely, it has an effect on the gardener, who is paying more attention to the plants to see if the experiment works. I'm still playing the tiny seedlings in my laundry closet music though. Today it was merengue. Tomorrow its either Postal Service or Lil Jon. Meh, who knows?
I feel a lil silly being so involved with this plant thing right now. But I'm trying to put down some roots (forgive the pun), even if they're potted roots. Plus, it's spring, fockers! And, to quote one Morgan, "I'm a fucking pretty, pretty princess".
Talked to my mom today. She had Ryanne for the night, and Ryanne blew a raspberry at me over the phone. She loves blowing raspberries, saying "no", shaking things, and pounding on mirrors and windows. What can I say? I'm enthralled.
Anyway, I guess it (the filing of the divorce) was in the newspaper today. Oddly enough, I wanted to ask her to clip it out & send it to me.
Lately, I've gone through all my pictures, familial and otherwise, and wrote who, what, when, when, and any memories I have. For posterity's sake, for my sake. I grew up, knowing exactly where I came from and always having a good understanding of myself. Now as my old life crumbles around me, I need to hold on to something.
Now I'm not sure where I am or where I'm going. As Andy said to Phil, "I'm sort of in a transistion". I'm a stereotypical angry 20-somethng, not yet jaded. Angry, becase I'm in part of life where home isn't home, and here isn't home. Its in the bathtub with steam & quiet thoughts. Its there on a drunken Sunday, when I'm talking religion with some Marine who thinks he found divine intervention on the shitter in Iraq. Its there at Arby's as I prep food. It exists in the tears that spread slowly on my pillow at night. Home exists in that singular moment's self.
Right now, I'm homesick for a home that doesn't exist. Some things can't be taken away...
the feeling of winter's cold, clean night air entering your lungs...
the way it smells when they start plowing the fields...
how you can smell the rain before it storms in summer...
I do miss more tangible things, but those simple pleasures I miss.
All this & more, I've decided, is why I'm prone to writing more day-to-day things now. I'm not striving for "deep" like I did in high school. I need to hold on the momentary selves, collect them, follow them down the primrose path. Hopefully, it evolves past merengue for my flowers.
two weeks ago, about $300 was stolen out of my purse at work. i know, it was stupid of me to take it there. but i was paying bills afterwards. i haven't found the money and now refuse to take my purse inside. i figure it was better that it was the $300 and not the credit card that was luckily in the pocket of some jeans in the dryer. at first, i was pissed, then worried. now i hope that person had a great time with it. i was just going to use for my car payment.
this is what i hope they used it for...
i hope they got their hair done. you know, a little highlight action. they decided to buy a new swimsuit. the culprit should have filled up her ( i'm guessing its a her. i work with 90% females) gas tank, grabbed a couple friends, and headed to the beach. i hope it was perfect weather. i know that can't be bought, but this is all hypothetical anyway. they'd drive the go-carts and climb the rockwall. maybe she got a little bit of a tan. afterwards, i hope she planned to go to a nice, local restaurant with her guyfriend, so she bought new perfume, new shoes, and a new purse. she didn't have to pay for the dinner, but i hope she had some good wine with her meal and some sinfully good cheesecake for dessert. and i hope because all the primping and the good wine, the couple went home and had amazing sex...
...its sad, living vicariously through your stolen money. but all of that makes it easier to deal with.
this is what i hope they used it for...
i hope they got their hair done. you know, a little highlight action. they decided to buy a new swimsuit. the culprit should have filled up her ( i'm guessing its a her. i work with 90% females) gas tank, grabbed a couple friends, and headed to the beach. i hope it was perfect weather. i know that can't be bought, but this is all hypothetical anyway. they'd drive the go-carts and climb the rockwall. maybe she got a little bit of a tan. afterwards, i hope she planned to go to a nice, local restaurant with her guyfriend, so she bought new perfume, new shoes, and a new purse. she didn't have to pay for the dinner, but i hope she had some good wine with her meal and some sinfully good cheesecake for dessert. and i hope because all the primping and the good wine, the couple went home and had amazing sex...
...its sad, living vicariously through your stolen money. but all of that makes it easier to deal with.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
one more thing...
dear mr. author-guy,
i understand the dramatic pretense of killing our hero, but i hate it. i relate with this guy. i grow as he grows, despite his consistently drunken state. i hope as the little part of him hopes, for change. my soul reaches up, and in my mind, i'm cheering him on, as though he was in a marathon. i can see him nearing the finish line as the book draws to a close. and then, like some malevolent god, you swat and smash your own creation like a bug. poo on you, mr. author-guy. poo on you.
molly
edit: i have a tendency to write letters to people in my head.
dear mr. author-guy,
i understand the dramatic pretense of killing our hero, but i hate it. i relate with this guy. i grow as he grows, despite his consistently drunken state. i hope as the little part of him hopes, for change. my soul reaches up, and in my mind, i'm cheering him on, as though he was in a marathon. i can see him nearing the finish line as the book draws to a close. and then, like some malevolent god, you swat and smash your own creation like a bug. poo on you, mr. author-guy. poo on you.
molly
edit: i have a tendency to write letters to people in my head.
btw, i just had a dream involving mutants, zombies, and paris hilton drowning in a big toilet.
could it have been the reuben i ate for lunch?
...talk amongst yourselves...
could it have been the reuben i ate for lunch?
...talk amongst yourselves...
Day Four of Molly vs. the bottle of Mt. Dew
Four days ago, I bought a 3-liter of Mt. Dew, had some with my dinner, and closed it tightly. Finding a loose cap and flat Mt. Dew is a pet peeve of mine. Maybe I closed it too tight. I do, distinctly, remember tightening it twice. Anyway, next day comes around, and I can't open it. I twist until my hands feel like sore little nubs. Second day, I figure I must have loosened it some the day before, and again I am defeated. I actually start contemplating taking the bottle to work and asking someone to open it. I admit this idea seems silly, but I am an addict. Instead, I buy another one and successfully open it on the third day. I was just warming up though. I mean, everyone wants they can't have. So, today I mustered my strength, turned and twisted. And then, not to be beaten by this smirking piece of plastic, I found a nice sharp knife.Anyway, I really needed to let someone know that I am the victor.
I tried to update awhile ago and lost the post through some technical difficulties. I filed my taxes today, ever the slacker. We get $300 back! Woo hoo! I'm still training to be a manager at Arby's, trying to find a night job in the meantime. We found a bar down here. Actually, my ass is what got us the flyer, but we all decided to check the place out. Now its like our Cheers. They don't card us...and a good half of us that regularly go are underage. The bartenders know us, and we know them. They only have beer, but the drinking isn't why I like it so much. The bar's grungy like most bars from home, and they feature local bands every Saturday. The bar owner and his girlfriend love us. We have a community there even if it is only on the weekends.
I was home for a week at the end of March. Illinois might as well have been China, for all its similarities to the one I left eight months ago. Both my grandpas passed away (a girl at work advised me that it isn't "died", it is "passed away")in March. Losing my Grandpa Callan and not being there to say my good-byes makes it harder for it to be real. I constantly find myself saying or thinking something, and then cringing when I realize it should be in the past tense. I sat by his grave and let my fingers follow the shape of the letters in his name. It still doesn't seem real. A part of me waited the whole time I was home to come up behind him on the tractor when I was in a hurry to get somewhere. My parents are getting a divorce. I waited to write about it, seeing if Sam would say anything. But I think it has become somewhat public knowledge, and I am not one who likes to keep my mouth shut. It's weird, because I am horribly happy for both of them as people, and still angry at my father, and sad because home isn't home anymore. I've said it was twenty-seven years in the making. Mostly it bugs me because I'm not there to do anything about it. I'm not there to smooth anything out or make anything better. I'm just a voice on the end of the phone. However, I was home long enough to find my place in the world I left and long enough to find that world completely changed. I feel totally displaced. I have no real home anymore.
Luckily, I got to spend a fair amount of time with my niece, marveling over how much she's grown. I love watching Jake be a dad. My little brother and I ventured to the Vu for his first time and my 8th or 9th time. That was funny and awkward. Keely and I thought we should have brought cameras. And as usual, I was "forced" to see another sunrise, because Morgan and I do not know how to stop talking when we are around each other. Infected Rectum does have a certain ring to it.
I'm in a good mood today. It was windy and sunny, like it should be at home right about now. I bought some dahlias and gerbera daisies from Wal-Mart, because I've been really impatient with my seedlings that I planted a week or so ago. I think all my badgering and hovering is making them droopy and wimpy. I was thinking about playing them Mozart...or maybe some salsa music or something.
Does that actually work?
Four days ago, I bought a 3-liter of Mt. Dew, had some with my dinner, and closed it tightly. Finding a loose cap and flat Mt. Dew is a pet peeve of mine. Maybe I closed it too tight. I do, distinctly, remember tightening it twice. Anyway, next day comes around, and I can't open it. I twist until my hands feel like sore little nubs. Second day, I figure I must have loosened it some the day before, and again I am defeated. I actually start contemplating taking the bottle to work and asking someone to open it. I admit this idea seems silly, but I am an addict. Instead, I buy another one and successfully open it on the third day. I was just warming up though. I mean, everyone wants they can't have. So, today I mustered my strength, turned and twisted. And then, not to be beaten by this smirking piece of plastic, I found a nice sharp knife.Anyway, I really needed to let someone know that I am the victor.
I tried to update awhile ago and lost the post through some technical difficulties. I filed my taxes today, ever the slacker. We get $300 back! Woo hoo! I'm still training to be a manager at Arby's, trying to find a night job in the meantime. We found a bar down here. Actually, my ass is what got us the flyer, but we all decided to check the place out. Now its like our Cheers. They don't card us...and a good half of us that regularly go are underage. The bartenders know us, and we know them. They only have beer, but the drinking isn't why I like it so much. The bar's grungy like most bars from home, and they feature local bands every Saturday. The bar owner and his girlfriend love us. We have a community there even if it is only on the weekends.
I was home for a week at the end of March. Illinois might as well have been China, for all its similarities to the one I left eight months ago. Both my grandpas passed away (a girl at work advised me that it isn't "died", it is "passed away")in March. Losing my Grandpa Callan and not being there to say my good-byes makes it harder for it to be real. I constantly find myself saying or thinking something, and then cringing when I realize it should be in the past tense. I sat by his grave and let my fingers follow the shape of the letters in his name. It still doesn't seem real. A part of me waited the whole time I was home to come up behind him on the tractor when I was in a hurry to get somewhere. My parents are getting a divorce. I waited to write about it, seeing if Sam would say anything. But I think it has become somewhat public knowledge, and I am not one who likes to keep my mouth shut. It's weird, because I am horribly happy for both of them as people, and still angry at my father, and sad because home isn't home anymore. I've said it was twenty-seven years in the making. Mostly it bugs me because I'm not there to do anything about it. I'm not there to smooth anything out or make anything better. I'm just a voice on the end of the phone. However, I was home long enough to find my place in the world I left and long enough to find that world completely changed. I feel totally displaced. I have no real home anymore.
Luckily, I got to spend a fair amount of time with my niece, marveling over how much she's grown. I love watching Jake be a dad. My little brother and I ventured to the Vu for his first time and my 8th or 9th time. That was funny and awkward. Keely and I thought we should have brought cameras. And as usual, I was "forced" to see another sunrise, because Morgan and I do not know how to stop talking when we are around each other. Infected Rectum does have a certain ring to it.
I'm in a good mood today. It was windy and sunny, like it should be at home right about now. I bought some dahlias and gerbera daisies from Wal-Mart, because I've been really impatient with my seedlings that I planted a week or so ago. I think all my badgering and hovering is making them droopy and wimpy. I was thinking about playing them Mozart...or maybe some salsa music or something.
Does that actually work?
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