Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Blue in Green

Another blue day today.

What else was there to do but drive to Lino to buy a green album?



This ain't no music blog, but so far so good with Ukulele Songs. So far, so really really good.

Monday, May 30, 2011

I Need Some Sleep, Take 2

Hello everyone.
It is exactly 1:37 a.m.
I have to wake up for work at exactly 5:15 a.m.
Thus far, I have been unable to sleep.

Look for me tomorrow. I'll be the zombie dozing against an endcap in pets.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

One and a Half Naps, and Then a Revelation

A warning before I begin: This will probably be a very personal post. And not that people who don't know me really read this blog anyway, but if you don't know me, maybe you should stop now. That's not an order, as this is the internet, (and therefore anything I post here is pretty much fair game) but it is a suggestion.

I was about to take a nap just now. I finished reading Paper Towns (magnificent) on the couch in the sun room, and then I started to doze off. The thing is, my left earring was pressing into my skull, and I was still wearing my Target red and khaki, and I was worried about the dog sneaking over while I slept and eating the pear core I had laying on the rug beside me and getting sick and dying or something while I slept on like a masochistic infant. So I abandoned the couch, locked the dog in the kitchen, threw away the core, changed into sweats, and got into bed.

I was so tired that I didn't even bother to set my cell phone alarm (I usually do when I take naps or else I will pretty much sleep for the next 2 days). I was so tired that when my knee nudged against paper under the covers, and when I remembered that the paper was the Sunday crossword that I had hidden from my sister this morning (Sunday crosswords are sacred to me, and she has bad handwriting. Don't tell her I said that.), I didn't even bother to set the paper on my nightstand. I decided to sleep with it nudged against my knee.

The thing was, as I was drifting off to sleep for the second time, I started to think about the guy I like (Don't be scared; I'm not going to go middle school on you. Promise). I was thinking about how cute he is, and how smart, and how funny, and I was imagining us hanging out together. And then I started to worry, the way I often do when I think about a guy that I like (and I don't think I'm alone in this). I started to wonder why he would ever like me. I'm not a supermodel, I'm not outgoing, I'm not bubbly, I'm not chill or calm or neutral, I have a big nose, sometimes I can be a major space cadet, I can't dance, I'm not graceful in any way, and I make mistakes constantly. Why would he ever, ever like me back, I thought.

And then, suddenly, like someone was shouting it in my ear, I heard this:

You're perfect.

I'm perfect.

The more I thought about this, the more of a revelation it became. I actually started crying, and as I stared at my turquoise bedroom wall, black mascara tears on my cheeks, I realized that I am perfect. That someone (namely, God) took the time to make me the way I am. He didn't make one mistake with me. He didn't make one mistake with anyone. Every bit of me, inside and out, is deliberate. Everything I am has a purpose, and everything I strive to be will only add clarity to that purpose.

And while I generally view myself as a pretty confidant person, I don't know if I really am. I think in the past, when I've embraced myself, I've done it one-handedly; I've left the flaws out. I haven't liked to think about them much because they're flaws. They're bad. But now I don't know if I believe in the flaws at all. They're really only bits of sin and lint and doubt that I've created for myself, that I've let hang around me because, well, this is Earth and I am human. And I wanted that crossword for myself, darn it!

Do you see yet? As a being I am perfect because, lucky me, I was made in God's image (that's right, I'm one of those). As a human, things get a little shady. But these things shouldn't stop me. If I create the shade, then surely I can be the one to wave it away. I know that I can't save myself completely without help, but I also know that I can save myself a little bit just by realizing how lovely the essence of me really is. (P.S. Your essence is quite beautiful as well).

I think I went around in a circle, you guys. I don't know if I ended up where I intended to, or if you were able to follow my tracks, or if I even left clear enough tracks to follow. I hope I did. I also hope that I didn't come off as some sort of motivational speaker. (There's that self-doubt again. Hello.) I didn't mean to. I just tried to take a nap about a half hour ago, and ended up not wanting to sleep after all. I hope you understand why.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Throwback Thursday

I suddenly thought that I’d like to run the rest of the way. It was a breezy night, not dark enough to be creepy, but dark enough to be powerful.

And then we were off running, me clutching my hood up around my face with both hands, Maddie holding her jacket closed against the wind.

As we ran I turned to her, because I couldn’t remember: “Hey Mad, did I start running, or did you?”

“You did, I think.”

“Did I? It’s funny, because the split second after I had the idea that I’d like to run, we were running, and I didn’t know who set us going.”

She laughed at me, and we continued on towards the Tweet Spot, laughing at ourselves for running towards 11 pm junk food, and at the prospect of being spotted from a dorm window, and at the largeness of the night, and how hilariously small we were within it.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

A Downer Day

It's been a downer day for me.
In order to write last night's brilliant post (you can chuckle at this. I am.), I had to sacrifice quite a bit of sleep.
Lack of sleep meant that I was pretty much a space cadet the entire time I was at work.
I bumbled around stupidly.
I punched in when I wasn't supposed to.
I banged my arm against a shelf (bruise is appearing slowly but surely).
And last but not least, I somehow thought that I worked 8-4. It was 3:00 when I finally figured out that I was actually only supposed to work until noon.

On the way home I stopped at the library. Libraries usually cheer me up, but somehow, it didn't work today. I got 8 books, but only 1 that I really want to read. Outside of the library, there was a big construction zone where they were tearing up part of the sidewalk. I'm tired of construction. It seems like all of Forest Lake is one big "CONSTRUCTION GOING ON, PLEASE TAKE DETOUR." I'm tired of detours. I don't care what anyone says, roundabouts are not all they're cracked up to be. I have yielding issues.

Now I'm sitting in bed dragging myself down slowly but surely (mentally bruising??? (see above)). It's a sad sad thing to be doing on a Tuesday night, but when I'm in a funk like this there's not much of an escape. I worked on my Press article for a while, but it started to give me a headache; council meeting coverage not only requires an annoying amount of precision, but it's also kind of boring. Don't tell anyone I said that.
I guess I can read, but I'm currently stuck in the middle of "The Handmaid's Tale." This book disappoints me. I'll probably explain why once I've finished.

Sorry for lack of eloquence, optimism, excitement, etc. I'll try to be up to snuff tomorrow.

Monday, May 23, 2011

A Character Sketch (With Comments)

Our conversation took place in the "Female Products" aisle of Target.
Where the very best conversations take place.
Kidding.
Anyway, it all struck me as strange at the time. Now it's just ironic.
A few guys had just been caught trying to steal a TV from our store. Apparently they had hit up Walmart recently, so we were anticipating a visit as well. (Note: Target has not asked me to write this, but don't try to steal from us. You'll get caught. And I have a mean roundhouse, thanks to my friend Denise Austin.)
Anyway, he and I were discussing the attempted theft while pulling boxes of tampons forward on the shelves.
And he went on and on about how whenever someone stole from our store, it really rattled him. How it made him jumpy and nervous, and how, most of all, it made him not trust people. He talked a lot about that. Not trusting people.
As I pride myself on my deep faith in humanity, I didn't empathize. I simply pitied him a little bit for living what I saw as a cold existence. This too is ironic.

But still, despite his revelation to me in the Feminine Products aisle, he was someone to be depended on in our store. If the lanes needed backup, he was the first to respond. If someone needed a team lift, if someone couldn't find an item for a guest, if someone didn't know how to do something on their PDA, he was the go-to guy. He was just a high schooler, but he was relied on by people much older.

The third bit about him is that he is the one I wrote about last summer, the one who gave my car a jump that afternoon in the Target parking lot. It was after my very first day of work, I had never talked to him in my life, and yet there he was, asking me if I could use some help.
For the year that's passed since that parking lot act of kindness, I have held it up as the nicest thing a stranger has done for me. I have asked myself if I would do the same for someone I didn't know. I have hung the act over the person's head as a red badge of sorts, admiring him for it and defining him by it.

And then I came back to work for the summer, and found out that he had been fired from Target for stealing. Rumor has it that when a guest would purchase an ipod, he would take two out of the case, and drop the extra into his pocket. Rumor has it that he had been doing it for a while. The person who told me all of this also told me that he (car jumper, ipod thief) is some kind of genius. I gave the teller my wryest raised eyebrows: Yes, because truly smart people steal ipods from their places of employment.

When I first heard this news, I was shocked.
Now I'm purely disgusted.
It makes me sick to think that he got a job at Target. That he got to know the wonderful people who work here, that he gained their trust. That he dared to build himself a reputation as a good kid, as someone who was helpful and dependable. That he jumped people's cars and told people sob stories about his cold view of humanity. That he did all of this and then stole from us. When I told this to the guy who told me the theft story, he rolled his eyes a little: Holly, we didn't lose any money by it. They got it all back. Besides, it wouldn't have come out of our paychecks anyway.
Gee, thanks. That makes me feel better. Because there is absolutely no deeply immoral aspect to the situation that is more troubling than the financial aspects.

I lay on my stomach here in my bed, laptop propped on pillow, and I think back to that day in the Tampon Aisle (who're we kidding, here; that's what it should be called) and I feel (oh so ironically,) like maybe he was right all along. Maybe people can't be trusted. Maybe people don't have bits of bad and bits of good swimming around inside their chests. Maybe it has to be all one or the other.

And then I look into myself and I see both. But the good, the good is always trying to stand over the bad, to put it into the shade forever. And I think that maybe other people's chests are similar. That they hold both, that they hold everything. And that even when the bad gets a trump it doesn't mean that the good isn't following behind with the ace of something.

I think that perhaps jumping a car in an afternoon parking lot shouldn't be overshadowed by a petty theft. That I shouldn't let it be.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

In Which I Finish Sophomore Year and Do Some Kickboxing

I'm a bit displaced from the last time I blogged.
I am now sitting about 3 final exams, 1 final paper, 220 miles, and 10 days away from my last post.

Hi.

So, as said displacement has left me a tad scrambled, and as 10 blog-free days tends to make one even more discombobulated (to borrow a word from my 5th grade teacher), you may have to put up with some sporadicity. Bear with me here.

Finals were good. As I mentioned 10 days ago, I had two finals on Monday, a final paper due Tuesday, and another final Thursday. Honestly, I felt that I performed pretty solidly on all of the above. It was absolutely wonderful to have all day Tuesday and Wednesday to study for Art History on Thursday.

As for the paper, well, let's just say that if you ever need to talk to someone about A Streetcar Named Desire as a Gothic Novel, I'm your girl. 6 pages of epic analysis, with an outside source included just because I could. Not to brag or anything.

And now, as I said, I am at home. On the couch. With my trusty laptop on my lap, A Secret Life of Bees at my elbow, and the Sunday crossword within reach. I feel deserving of this luxurious lifestyle because: a) I had to write a paper and take 3 final exams last week, b) I had to work at Target at 8 this morning, which means I had to wake up at 6:15, and c) after work I did a half hour of kickboxing with Denise Austin. I found the VHS tape in the basement and thought I'd try it out. Denise seemed nice at first, but after about 15 minutes she started looking fairly masochistic. That was around the time when I figured out that whenever she said, "Don't worry if you can't do this yet; you'll get there soon," she really meant: "This is going to hurt, you out of shape loser, because I'm not going to stop until you're on the floor, panting like a winded rhino, and drenched in sweat."

Mom just brought home a pizza for dinner. Kiss it, Denise.

I'll talk to you guys soon.

P.S. I feel like I need to add this sentimental tidbit right here at the end: it was really strange to leave Morris last Thursday knowing that I wouldn't be back until January. When I hugged all my friends goodbye I had to keep saying, "I'll see you next Spring." Weird. I still haven't wrapped my head around Austria, despite the fact that I'm officially going now. That's right, I put down my ridiculously large initial deposit (I don't want to talk about it), and on Saturday Mom insisted on buying me a German/English dictionary and a Rick Steve guidebook. Nothing seals the deal quite like Rick Steve.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Another Finals Week

Finals week has rolled around once again, and, as you've come to expect, I will spend most of my time from now until Thursday evening:
a) Studying/writing papers/taking exams
b) Complaining to you about studying/writing papers/taking exams

Prepare accordingly.

Here's the agenda:
Monday:
German final from 8:30-10:30
American Lit. final 11:00-1:00

Tuesday
American Lit. response paper due 4:00

Thursday
Art History final 4:00-6:00

And of course I also have to work a lot during finals week, and I have to finish up my study abroad planning, and I have to begin packing up my maelstrom of a room in preparation for my Thursday night departure.

And of course of course the weather right now is absolutely perfect; 66 degrees, sunny, breezy, and bugless. That's what I'm told, at least; the basement of the Science Building doesn't have any windows.

Fun Fact: Last night I had a dream that I was running around inside a Revolutionary War-era house that had belonged to someone named Brady. This morning I did a Wikipedia search and found out that Samuel Brady was a Revolutionary War hero (and an all-around cool guy). It's funny, because I don't think I've ever heard that name before. Apparently my subconscious has.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

No DisreSPECT, John Green

I just finished reading...

This:


I bought it from HPB a few summers ago, and only just got to it because it's the week before finals week, and because during the week before finals week, I need to read something uncomplicated.

Unluckily, An Abundance of Katherines is not uncomplicated. It contains math. Theorems.

Luckily, I loved it anyway.

Although not as much as Looking For Alaska (which, to be fair, is a top notch book. Hard to beat). An Abundance of Katherines was original, yes, but what confused me was the way John Green (author) squeezed in a moral right at the end. The moral (I'm paraphrasing here) was that it's easy to become so caught up in a goal (being world-famous, being popular, etc.) that you don't remember why you wanted that thing (to be world-famous, to be popular, etc.) in the first place.

Here's the actual quote: "Maybe life is not about accomplishing some (kidscoveryoureyesquicklynow) bullshit markers."

And that's a great moral, truly it is. My problem was that I didn't get a sense throughout the book that the characters were trying too hard to accomplish -stupid- markers. In retrospect, yeah, but not in spect. Unfortunately, my friends, the spect is where I should be noticing things.

I almost think that the theorem, and the Katherine thing, and Hassan being awesome, and the Lindsey love story, and the (kidsagainpleaselookaway) tampon string factory crisis, and the road trip, and etc. distracted me from the point of the novel. Which is bad. An Abundance of Katherines tried to be about 10 different novels at once.

Whereas my spect's maximum is one.