I'm back in Brooklyn. My computer, however, is still in Pennsylvania, with my errant father, who called me this morning to ask for the password to log on to the computer. Which means, for the past week and a half, my father has been in possession of my computer and not looked at it once. On the silver lining side: I find myself fortunate to have a roommate with a fairly nice mac laptop, and she lets me use it.
Unfortunately, my roommate is getting married. Hopefully, by the time she does, I'll have my laptop back. With my father, who knows. Since my roommate is leaving me and I'm still a full-time student who barely makes enough to eat and take public transportation, I need to find a new roommate. I have specific qualifications, and believe me, you don't qualify. I'm hoping that the snooty girl who just called me fifteen minutes ago and who is coming on Thursday to look at the apartment doesn't qualify either. I'm looking for the perfect roommate. As more and more people contact me about the room, time restrictions aside, I'm fairly certain she doesn't exist. Sigh. Looking for a roommate is sort of like shopping for Mr. or Miss Right. One creates this image in one's head that is totally smashed by the real-life options.
Coming up -- when my computer is delivered safely back into my hands -- more updates! Photos! Pretty illustrations created in Adobe Illustrator! I took a picture of this amazing bruise on my knee, the residue of rock climbing on Saturday, but I can't post it yet. When I can, I'll give you the full story as well. A little teaser -- it was GREAT. I am so sore. I can't wait to go again.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Fixing mistakes
The house has been a bit more tension-filled lately than usual. It's possible that there's more tension because school was canceled on Wednesday, and no one was able to escape the stifling confines of the house except my older sister.
Another possibility is that everyone has been more on edge because the baby Greg has refused to sleep through the night. Three nights of little sleep + seven grumpy people = Recipe for Lots of Tension. The baby Greg is one of the few infants who does not succumb to my ability to soothe. The baby Greg hates everything, and protests by crying. The latest thing the baby Greg hates? Falling asleep, apparently.
With everyone ready to punch through walls, the house has been interesting. This includes my brother sitting on my littlest sister today. We were about to play a round of minigolf on the gamecube. She accidentally selected a different character than the one he wanted. He sat on her, she ran off crying to Mother, and I played all three characters myself until he was sent to his room and she composed herself. Somewhere in the middle of that particular incident, he proclaimed that he doesn't "freak out over little things." I said, "She gave you Maurice instead of Julian. Are you sure you don't freak out over little things?" He was suddenly very quiet.
Not too long after that, my older sister asked me if I'd been putting the antibiotic powder in the baby Greg's formula when making him bottles. "No," I said. "You didn't tell me to."
"I DID tell you," she insisted. "You don't listen to me!"
"I DO listen to you," I said, knocking the golf ball a little too hard and wincing as it bounded way past the spot I was aiming for. "You didn't mention it."
"I DID mention it," she said. "That's why he's been crying! You're the reason I haven't gotten sleep for the past three nights!"
Tonight, the house is utterly silent while the baby Greg sleeps peacefully.
Another possibility is that everyone has been more on edge because the baby Greg has refused to sleep through the night. Three nights of little sleep + seven grumpy people = Recipe for Lots of Tension. The baby Greg is one of the few infants who does not succumb to my ability to soothe. The baby Greg hates everything, and protests by crying. The latest thing the baby Greg hates? Falling asleep, apparently.
With everyone ready to punch through walls, the house has been interesting. This includes my brother sitting on my littlest sister today. We were about to play a round of minigolf on the gamecube. She accidentally selected a different character than the one he wanted. He sat on her, she ran off crying to Mother, and I played all three characters myself until he was sent to his room and she composed herself. Somewhere in the middle of that particular incident, he proclaimed that he doesn't "freak out over little things." I said, "She gave you Maurice instead of Julian. Are you sure you don't freak out over little things?" He was suddenly very quiet.
Not too long after that, my older sister asked me if I'd been putting the antibiotic powder in the baby Greg's formula when making him bottles. "No," I said. "You didn't tell me to."
"I DID tell you," she insisted. "You don't listen to me!"
"I DO listen to you," I said, knocking the golf ball a little too hard and wincing as it bounded way past the spot I was aiming for. "You didn't mention it."
"I DID mention it," she said. "That's why he's been crying! You're the reason I haven't gotten sleep for the past three nights!"
Tonight, the house is utterly silent while the baby Greg sleeps peacefully.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Going back
I haven't seen my high school in four years. As I walked down the steps and into the cafeteria, my heart climbed into my throat and remained lodged there all evening.
I owe them $500 or so for tuition. They almost didn't let me graduate because of it. But there is a God, and for some reason, He cares about me, and through His grace, I graduated.
I am still embarrassed about that debt, however, and I had planned not to show up again until I had it. My plans changed with the re-introduction of a certain boy, and then the re-connection of a certain friend, who told me that she was starting a newspaper. Good-looking boys and newspapers, all in one night? I managed to bribe my brother into driving me. My brother brought his girlfriend and his best friend, and then my sister tagged along, and thus it was that the five us crammed into my brother's friend's mother's car.
All of them smoke, and during the ride home, they not only froze me to death with the windows hanging open, but they also nearly scalded my eyeballs out of my head because my sister was unable to get her cigarette ashes out the window. Today, nothing was more frightening than little bits of embers in the dark shooting towards my face. However, the screaming definitely released some tension, while simultaneously annoying everyone else, which was an added bonus.
We've always been outsiders at my high school. I was never sure why, but I do know it seems as though not much has changed. People were friendly, yes, but there was that nagging, underlying feeling that told me I didn't quite belong. I believe that's a reason why I value my family so much. No matter what happens or how they treat me, it is an undeniable fact that I belong. We're a broken, neurotic mess, but we care about each other; we'd give our lives for each other.
----
All of the above was written yesterday. Today is my birthday. (Edited after some more thought.) Suffice it to say that while I view my family as a neurotic mess, myself included, I love them to death.
And about that good-looking boy that I mentioned both above and in previous posts? I saw him when I visited the high school. He spent all his time ogling and not talking, and I have several Facebook messages that include the phrase "u look good," with nothing else of substance. Dud. Good-looking, but a dud.
----
I can't quite see the lesson here, in all of this. It's somewhere, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be learning, or what I'm supposed to be doing. I walk down the halls of my old high school, and aside from new paint and faces growing older, nothing's changed. What am I waiting for? What am I looking for? What do I want?
I haven't the slightest idea.
I owe them $500 or so for tuition. They almost didn't let me graduate because of it. But there is a God, and for some reason, He cares about me, and through His grace, I graduated.
I am still embarrassed about that debt, however, and I had planned not to show up again until I had it. My plans changed with the re-introduction of a certain boy, and then the re-connection of a certain friend, who told me that she was starting a newspaper. Good-looking boys and newspapers, all in one night? I managed to bribe my brother into driving me. My brother brought his girlfriend and his best friend, and then my sister tagged along, and thus it was that the five us crammed into my brother's friend's mother's car.
All of them smoke, and during the ride home, they not only froze me to death with the windows hanging open, but they also nearly scalded my eyeballs out of my head because my sister was unable to get her cigarette ashes out the window. Today, nothing was more frightening than little bits of embers in the dark shooting towards my face. However, the screaming definitely released some tension, while simultaneously annoying everyone else, which was an added bonus.
We've always been outsiders at my high school. I was never sure why, but I do know it seems as though not much has changed. People were friendly, yes, but there was that nagging, underlying feeling that told me I didn't quite belong. I believe that's a reason why I value my family so much. No matter what happens or how they treat me, it is an undeniable fact that I belong. We're a broken, neurotic mess, but we care about each other; we'd give our lives for each other.
----
All of the above was written yesterday. Today is my birthday. (Edited after some more thought.) Suffice it to say that while I view my family as a neurotic mess, myself included, I love them to death.
And about that good-looking boy that I mentioned both above and in previous posts? I saw him when I visited the high school. He spent all his time ogling and not talking, and I have several Facebook messages that include the phrase "u look good," with nothing else of substance. Dud. Good-looking, but a dud.
----
I can't quite see the lesson here, in all of this. It's somewhere, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be learning, or what I'm supposed to be doing. I walk down the halls of my old high school, and aside from new paint and faces growing older, nothing's changed. What am I waiting for? What am I looking for? What do I want?
I haven't the slightest idea.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)