Unimportant Drivel

A night full of insane dreams that I don't remember. A frightening sudden jolt out of dreamland courtesy of my alarm going off, and scaring me half to death. A quiet morning preparing to leave. A meeting with fellow youth workers. The drive to where I am now.
I think I might be able to find something worth while to write about. If I think long and hard enough. I wonder where some people find their inspiration to write. I generally find it in a memory. Or a thought. Or a picture of some hipster drinking coffee with earbuds in and a cool fedora on their heads. I wish I could pull off a fedora. They are always too big and fall down over my eyes. Which does not give the effect of being a mysterious brooding stranger as it may on some people who can pull off a fedora. Nothing mysterious about me. I'm too much of a talker to be thought mysterious, and I rarely brood, so a fedora wouldn't do me any good, even if it did fit.

In a few weeks I'm heading out on a road trip to NY with my sisters. A friend is getting married there and we are going to help. Plus Anna is a bridesmaid. We are taking Florence . I look forward to  it. Even traveling within the states is still traveling. And the last time I  really road tripped I was 7. We went to Connecticut to see relatives. I don't remember much about the drive, but I do remember the visit. Uncle Paul's basement smelling like candles. The little out door 'sanctuary' where we played church.Going to see the Atlantic Ocean and collecting shells. Playing in the leaves with cousins, visiting museums, eating Aunt Gloria's wonderful cooking. Seeing the Yankee Candle museum and drinking Sprite. Good times. That was 17 years ago, which makes me feel really old.

I find I have no concept of time anymore. Something that may have happened 5 or 6 years ago I think happened only last year. Then, when someone corrects me and I try and figure out how on earth it could have been that long ago, because I remember it like it was yesterday. My long-term memory is in prime shape. My short- term memory is just that---short term. I don't know exactly how that works out, but there you have it. I'm sure its something scientific about which lobes of your brain are being used in different situations. But I tended to zone out when it came to the science of the human body, so I don't remember.I zoned out in chemistry too. Algebra too. I didn't mean to, but when something is that boring, and my mind is so full of interesting things to think about, its hard to focus on the uninteresting for very long. To this day, I don't know how I passed algebra. I got through chemistry pretty well, and science, but I have since forgotten all but the most unimportant aspects of both. Because that's how my brain works I guess.

Excerpts

I was reading through one of my (very) old journals last night. Wow. Its pretty funny. At one point, in an effort to improve my penmanship, I made my journal entries into letters to a certain "Lady Violet". The adjectives I used were...Outrageous. My spelling was laughable, and what I deemed to be interesting was. Well, perhaps to my 11 year old self they were important. I found at one point, I lamented the fact that punctuation existed, and that I was happy I didn't have to worry about it in my own journal. As you can imagine, there were never ending supplies of run-on sentences. For instance, here is an excerpt:
                       " I am glad I don't have have to worry about punctuation in this notebook I wonder who came up with the idea..."

It's funny, now lack of punctuation drives me crazy.

When I was especially feeling about something, I would make dashes between each letter. For example:
                         "On the way home (almost a two hour trip) we ran into an E-X-T-R-E-M-I-L-Y bad storm..."

                          '' I think I won't write on the next page, cuz it is W-E-I-R-D!!!!"

Perhaps I wrote that way because its difficult to write in italics in cursive? I don't know.

As for my love of big words and adjectives:

                    " I hope I do good in math today because I always do positively discracefully horrible at it"

Also, in reference to my friend returning from over seas, here is another example of overly dramatic and unnecessary adjectives I used:
           
                  "If yall ( NOTE:I don't know whom the 'Yall' I was referring to was) couldn't tell, I ame 
extremily, extrordinarily, tremondously, excitingly excited!!!!!!"

(NOTE: I am writing exactly as it is written in my journal. So many words  are spelled incorrectly)

Even now, I am sitting in Starbucks, probably making a fool of myself by my sudden bursts of laughter. What I wrote was... hilarious. For instance:


             "Sam -------- is here, and will be here for about two weeks. His parents' are going to Ireland! I would love to go there sometime~ I wonder people there still believe in leprechauns? and if they do, Aunt Jea (Jae) and Uncle Alled (Alan) (they are Sam's parents' but we arent really related, they are just very close friends!) better not critizise them 'cause they would get very offended.I've heard that the Irish have very strong belifs in stuff like that."

         " for supper were having creamed chicken on bisquets yummy I hope I don't get a stomach ache from eating to much like I did yesterday."

           "I was playing baseball again. I am sore! Emily kept calling me a "sissy hitter"! Maybe if people could pitch, and I was useing a bigger bat, I would hit it. She can only hit if I pitch to her unless its someone older."

I played baseball. A lot. Most journal entries are about playing baseball.

Reading all these entries makes me want to go find my other old journals. It would make for some highly entertaining reading, I'm sure. Fortunately, My spelling, punctuation and literary abilities have improved much since then.


 

Nothing in Particular Because My Headphones Broke

This is a very dismal, rainy, chilly, miserable day. I feel sorry for those who work outside. Its the type of weather that is good for soup and terrible for those prone to weather related headaches. I am prone to weather related headaches. And I have no soup to console myself with. Only a chocolate chip scone. And Starbucks coffee. Which I suppose is better than nothing.

Its a wonderful day to be curled up in a blanket with a good book, however, I'm sitting at a tall table by a window at Starbucks currently, wearing my jacket because Any time the door opens the temperature at my seat drops a good 10 degrees.So no lounging in warmth for me.

I am afraid I have an acute case of writers block, which I am mostly convinced is due to the fact that my headphones broke today, and so I can't listen to my Indie Singer-Songwriters station on Pandora.The mish mash of genres and such that Starbucks is currently playing is hardly conducive to blogging, and highly grating on the nerves. I'll bet once I plug my phone into my car and listen to my Pandora station a plethora of lovely blog- writing-related topics will flood my mind. And then I'll be left with the regret that I leave you a such a boring bit of my mind to read. So with that, Its time to leave and buy some new earbuds.

A Night of Culture

Last night, I got some culture. If you can call it that. I went to see a play. Pride and Prejudice, put on by the local University the next city over from where I live. My mom, sisters and I dressed up a bit , meaning we set our usual jeans and tennis shoes aside for the more classy, dressy, skirts and dresses. Because when one is going to get cultured, casual attire is not acceptable. Its true, we were pretty much the only ones there so nicely dressed. I guess the rest of the attendees weren't as interested in being cultured.

A college student was sitting out side the theater selling pop, water and candy bars to those of us waiting in line. His sales tactic was holding up baby pictures of himself on his smart phone, saying things like " This is the adorable face of a baby that was once me....Could you possible say no to that face?...seriously, wasn't I cute?" his sales skills were greatly lacking.

We got really good seats, the seating attendant in our area told us we had the best seats in the house. I couldn't have agreed more.
The atmosphere was delightful. I was surprised to see how many guys were there, seemingly of their own accord, without the company of ladies. Of course, the gentleman in the yellow hat sitting directly across the theater from me did sleep through most of the first act.Apparently Jane Austen didn't thrill him as much as the men, who had ' I am a big shot athlete in this school' written all over there faces,  on the top row did.

 I think the prerequisite  for the male seating attendants was to be decidedly short. The one at the top of my row took his job very seriously.
"Excuse me ma'am," to the lady in front of me, 'did you take a picture of the set?" "Yes." "well I'm going to have to ask you to delete it due to copy write..."
 A few minutes later to a lady above me, 'Excuse me ma'am, we cannot allow you to take pictures of the set..." shortly there after, to the same lady, ' I'm going to have to ask you to finish your drink out in the hall, only bottled water is allowed in the theater, I'm sorry..." no one else seemed as strict about food in the auditorium. I saw plenty of people munching there candy bars etc.

The play was amazing. The actors and actresses were wonderfully talented, the costumes beautiful, the script accurate, and filled with Jane Austen's witty humor. It was enjoyable. I was vastly disappointed when it was over.
Mrs Bennett was a riot, Mr Collins was sufficiently annoying, Mr Darcy was very good at brooding, Lizzy was able to express herself through even just the squinting or widening of her eyes, Mary was...Boringly humorous, as she should have been. It was exquisitely cast, and everyone performed their parts to a T. I hope to go again to that theater, and I'm fairly certain that "My Fair Lady" will be showing in June.I hope so. Another night of culture sounds wonderfully inviting.

Good bye Max, Hello Florence

These last weeks since I wrote last, have been full of mishaps and frustrations.
It all started on April Fools day. I went to my sister and brother in laws house for dinner. I got the clever idea to play a prank on my dad. Or at least I thought it was clever at the time. Right before I left, I called home and told my dad I couldn't get my car to start. I even got my brother in law in on it. Had him talk to my dad to tell him what was going on with the car. Boy, did we ever get him good. I drove home and walked in the door as if nothing happened. My dad had been searching the internet to see what could possible be wrong with my car. It was a great joke. Unfortunately, the joke turned around and bit me on the metaphorical rear. The very next day (Wednesday) my car stalled 3 times on my way home from church. 3 times. I barely got it into my driveway, and it stalled again. The next morning I had to have Max towed to the car shop. Friday morning I got a phone call. Max had blown his gasket. If you know anything about cars, you know that blown head gaskets cost a lot to repair. As in $600-$800 to repair. And Max, bless his mechanical soul, was not worth the cost it would take to fix him. I had to say good bye forever. Fortunately, Dan called me less than 2 hours after I asked him to keep an eye out for a car for me, with a great deal. A 2008 Chevy Cobalt. For a very good price.It helps to have big brothers with connections. I bought that car. Its nice. I like it a lot. As much as I loved Max, it is very nice to drive a vehicle that doesn't make strange noises. That doesn't make knocking sounds as you come to stops, that's engine doesn't randomly make frighting, costly sounding shutterings. That wasn't incredibly noisy even on his good days, which lately had been few and far between. Its nice to have a car that has a fully functioning cd player. and mp3 output plug.

Since the "Sorry Saga of Max", I have had another birthday. I am now 24. And broke. For the first time in my life I am in debt, and have to make car payments. Like  a big girl. I don't like being a big girl. Its expensive. It wouldn't have been so bad, and I could have paid the price in full had it not been for pesky things called self-employment taxes, which were due the same time Max died. And they were much more than they were last year. So I had to borrow the balance of what I couldn't pay for my car from my parents and sister. I should have it paid off in about 10 months, at the most, but still. Its the principle of the thing. I like my new car, which shall hence forth be referred to as 'Florence'. I just wish my savings hadn't been wiped because of her.

Silent Conversations

Every so often the longing to get back out there and roam around hits me. This is one of those times. I know I've said it before. And I know I'll say it again. I really want to go somewhere. Road trip, airplane trip. Somewhere. Perhaps the longing has hit me because it seems that spring has finally sprung. After enduring the bitterest and most snowiest winter in my life, warmth has once again showed itself. And with the arrival of spring, the desire of going somewhere, anywhere, has come back full force. One day, one day I'll discover the little coffee shop where I'm certain my literary aspirations will come to being. One day I'll meet people with interesting stories, with lives and  backgrounds so different from my own. To sit down and talk and talk and talk about nothing in particular. I had one such moment a few years ago. Accept she didn't speak English. And I didn't speak Hungarian. She was such a sweet little tiny babushka woman. Hand gestures helped us. And our Bibles. I think she understood that we were traveling to Africa from Hungary, on a missions trip. She was the most joyful little thing. Sweetest blue eyes, and happiest smile on her pudgy wrinkled face. Sometimes you don't need to understand each others language to have a conversation. And in that train car bound for Budapest, we had a conversation without words.

I love history, and I love different cultures. I love site seeing. I love wandering museums, roaming cities, all the while sipping wretched little shots of coffee, in instant caffeine jolt. There is one thing for certain about Ukraine and their coffee. If you get straight up coffee, you get a dixie cup half full of brown liquid, that will instantly have the same effect downing 3 energy drinks. I only drink their real coffee if I have to. I always get the shakes, and can't sit still for anything after I drink it. The worst was drinking it right before driving to Slovakia. Cooped up in a car for several hours without being able to let off my excess energy is awful. My foot tapped. When it quit my hands tapped. It always gives me an extreme case of the jitters.

If you ever travel to Ukraine, Slovokia or Hungary, take my advice and always order Cafe Americano. It will not run you the risk of a heart attack.

Reminiscing

Ever smell something that triggers a memory? or hear a song?
I do. Made me think of my childhood, and the creativity we had. We sure had fun, without the aid of tv screens, computer screens, video games, cell phones, etc. etc.
The great outdoors was our playground, mud and sticks and the like our playthings.
A taught myself to ride a two wheeler bicycle when I was 4. We had fun. My older brother, Dan, was very creative. One time, when I was about 6, on an extremely windy day, my older siblings tied me to a tarp (a was tiny) and had me jump off our trampoline. Its the honest truth when I tell you the wind carried me across the yard, several inches off the ground, until I ran into our fence and twisted my ankle. That was Dan's idea. Another time, Dan created a "Rodeo" in the basement. He was the bull, and my other brother and I were the cowboys, and he sure bucked us off. Dan even made me chaps and a vest out of some ugly furry fabric he found in the basement. I was quite proud of them too.
We played pioneers in our pine trees, sweeping the pine needles to the side, and building "houses" by laying boards across tree branches for shelves, creating fireplaces by tying three sticks together with twine, teepee style, and hanging an old bucket from the center and making "soup" by filling it with water, dirt, grass, grapes (from our grape vines) and anything else we could find. We would get in trouble for that sometimes. We forgot to empty the buckets when we were finished, and a week later my dad would find them, and they'd be all smelly and mildewy and moldy (from the veggies we swiped from the garden, and the chicken scratch we added)

we played baseball at my neighbors house, and football. I was quite the athletic type. I used to be pretty good at both.
We weren't without our neighbor hood tiffs though. Once or twice I beat up the neighbor boys. Once or twice they beat me up. You'd think my brothers would stand up for me. Huh. Although Dan did hold wrestling matches in our basement, and taught my sister and I to fight. They must have figured I could fend for myself.

We made leaf houses in the fall, snow forts in the winter, played hide and seek on summer nights, made mudpies in the spring, and, on occasion, held caterpillar races. We also played flea market. We gathered all the toys and junk we could find in our back yard, set up our tables, and sold our items. We used mulch as money. Dan always got the best stuff, and us little ones got the leftovers.. Old ice cream buckets and such. We even sold "Popcorn' at our flea markets.We had a couple lilac trees out back, and we'd collect puffs of flowers, and then turned a bicyle upside down, turned the pedals and stuck the puffs through the spokes as they spun. that was our popcorn.

As we got older, we played different things. Once we created a "natural history museum" between my house and our neighbors. we collected feathers, birds nests, turtles, toads, rocks, leaves, caterpillars, and once, even a snake. We stacked them up in boxes and pens and old shelves and brought the grown ups through. The honestly didn't have much to see.

We also built "'hobbit houses". We tore up turf from out back, and covered logs and stumps with them, and decorated them, made roads in between, and even fields. They were really cool. We did that every spring for 3 or 4 years.

Once, when I was just old enough to be left home as the oldest, and in charge of the little kids, we took turns tying eachother to chairs as tight as we could, with the most difficult knots we could think of, and tried to escape. I told them we had to, cause if we were ever kidnapped (after all, it was one of the first times i was able to be in charge. who knew what could happen) we needed to know how to get away.

Thats only a tiny excerpt of the things we came up with. I pity the kids of today, whose main entertainment is video games and screens. They sure miss out on a lot.