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LiveJournal for Melsa.
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| Friday, February 14th, 2003 |
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Happy Friday! It's 10:39, and so far no calls from the receptionist. Whew. In good news, I received two Valentines cards yesterday. And, as both parties read my journal, thank you. I had considered buying myself a li'l something nice this weekend- taking myself on a shopping trip...perhaps picking up one of the new fragrances at Vic's Secret. However, we are to receive one of those beautifully hazardous ice storms this afternoon, making my drive home from work "treacherous." Whee. Fear not, we are stocked up on eggs, milk, bread, duct tape, saran wrap, flashlights, batteries, and vodka. We'll be okay. I may skate over to Blockbuster tonight and see if there's anything left on the shelves. Of course, being VD and all, people will likely be snatching up the sappy romancey ones, leaving behind the good stuff. Hopefully, anyway. Inspired by Amy's update and story, I will now share my earliest Valentine memory involving a member of the opposite sex... It was fifth grade, my last year at Clarington Elementary school. I was academically at the head of the class of 20-odd students, but coping with the awkwardness of early puberty and the transition from childhood into adolescence. All of my girl friends were getting boyfriends. There were couples. Kati and Jason, Jamee and James, Jennifer and Tim... Actually, I have no idea if those were the actual couples, but they are people I went to grade school with, so let's play along. I did not have a "boyfriend," nor did I think any of the boys in my class liked me like that. Well, that's not totally true... there was one boy... A short, chubby boy with chipmunk teeth and shirts that were always too short, DeWayne Campbell (who was, surprisingly, white). DeWayne was new to my school in the middle of the previous year, and desperately and loudly trying to fit in. He's one of those kids that I'm sure went on to outgrow the awkwardness, but remained a smartass all the same. I could sort of sense that DeWayne had a crush on me, but being young and always a believer in the power of denial, I ignored this. Until Valentines Day, 1990. At my school, we didn't officially have holiday parties after fourth grade. However, being a small, rural school, Mr. Duvall let us eat cupcakes and exchange cards if we so chose, in lieu of our afternoon classes. Feeling that we were too mature Valentines party and universal card delivery, we mostly gave cards to our friends, and significant others if we had them. As the 3:00 PM hour drew nearer, I gathered my Garfield lunch box and my valentines from my friends, then went to the water fountain to wash down the cupcakes and "Be Mine" hearts. When I returned, on my desk were two crudely cut red and pink hearts pasted together. Written in crayon was a forgettable Valentine cliché, and the inside was signed "Love, DeWayne." I was stunned. I had never received any sort of expression of romantic interest before. I didn't know what to do next, except look at any person or object in the room except DeWayne, whose eyes on me were as apparent as the hairs lifting from the back of my neck. I sat down, looked at the card again. Fortunately, it was time to go home, so with his eyes still on me, I placed all of the other valentines and my homework for the evening in my back pack. I kept DeWayne's card out, trying futively to hide it behind my lunch box. As the 3:15 bell rang, I walked to the front of the room with my friends and casually dropped the card into the waste basket. I'm sure DeWayne saw me, and I'm sure I wounded his fragile and developing male ego for all of eternity, but he continued to be interested in me afterwards. I can't remember when DeWayne moved away, or precisely why. Nor do I know what ever happened to him. A few weeks after Valentines, he continued his advances and gave me my first ever unsolicited "bad touch.". A group of us were lined up for the girls restroom, giggling and talking. DeWayne walked out of the boys room, and stopped at the fountain. The other girls teased me, and I brushed it off. Then DeWayne walked- or rather strutted..if ever there was a strut by a 12-year old boy, this was it- past them, slowing down when he got to me, and caressed his hand across my shoulder and further down, then continued to smirk and walk by. All of the girls told me I should tell on him, but I never did. And there you go. My Valentines memory. |
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| Thursday, February 13th, 2003 |
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So for no reason today, other than the fact that there is apparently some sort of unspoken internet law that its ad must appear on every website or google search ever conducted, I visited classmates.com. I think I had signed up there years ago, but apparently my account still works (and I was able to successfully guess the password I was using at that time in my life). There are quite a few 97 graduates listed. Of course, you must become a "gold member" (which I don't believe has anything to do with any Austin Powers sequels, but who knows?), and pay them $36 a year. No, it's not a lot of money, but I also don't have that much interest in finding out how far from her hometown Cynde Leopold lives. Yes, she was on there. "Wha? Wha? Huh?" *stiffened upper body and rotation* The only person registered who posted a picture was Lila Call, who lives with her boyfriend (same guy, I think....but then again....I really can't tell, kwim?) in Connecticut. For some reason, everyone else's profile just tells how many pets they have, what their political views are, and one other totally forgettable question. Plus, they are all pre-fabricated answers from a drop-down menu. So...big whoop. Still...it was interesting encountering all these names from the far, far reaches of time...the neglected, cob-webbed, musty corners of my subconscious. Other names on the list... Cheryl Daugherty. For some strange reason, which manifest itself during a conversation of our shared past with Crystal, I am very curious to know what happened to her. She was one of the "poor" kids, but took advanced placement classes. Had this very bitter edge (I guess one would under her circumstances). But I believe she was headed to college... and I wonder into what it molded her. Jason Norek, who I had that weird dream about a few months ago resulting in some google detective work, registered. No mention of his independent film career though. Melody Zucker and Leslie Ritchie registered, but did not post any information. Mryia Drain appears. Egad. There's a name I thought I had successfully banished from my psyche. All these names... some of them that aren't even familiar- and I was a class officer. Eep. I feel so....out of touch with my people. Some are familiar, but the faces can't be recalled, except for a blob of skin and the proper hair color. I can't believe how much I have changed, not only physically but emotionally, intellectually, philosophically since May 1997...which I guess was nearly 6 years ago now, anyway. So in the seeming stangnacy of my life, I guess I have that to go on. That the past 6 years have been dynamic, and maybe I just don't realize the changes I'm undergoing right now. In somewhat related news, it looks like my sister will be beginning her dynamic six or so years, here in town with me. At that big university that I can not name, lest I lend myself to the stalkers. But you know where I mean. Joe and her best friend Wendy are going there, and they have a good program in fashion merchandising or retail something or other...whatever it is she's going into. I am thrilled to potentially have her just down the street. I'm sure for the first few week, she'll be calling and visiting all the time to ease the homesickness and overwhelming student body...but then I'm sure I'll see her when we both go home for Christmas and Easter. What else is new? Reality TV. I still find myself watching American Idol, even though it's boring now. Although, amazingly, the contestants seem to still suck, so that's always entertaining. And what was with the Joe Millionaire of Monday? A clips show?? For a show that started in January? What a waste of time. I feel so duped. I'm mad at you, Fox. But of course, I'll be glued to my couch for the duration of next week's 2-hour finale (or is it?? Great, now they've turned me into a schizo). Got my hair trimmed last night, much to my delight. This excessively wintry winter is sucking the life from my lovely tresses, and no deep conditioner or leave-in seems to be its match. Duane, the guy who cuts my hair, announced that he was going to try out his "new toy" on me. Um...okay. It was this enormous round brush that rotates. you stick a chunk of your damp hair on the brush monster, and blow dry with the other. And instead of having to pull the brush through your hair, it spins for you. Amazingly enough, it worked wonders on my hair- even with no mousse or gel. He asked me if I wanted one, and told me they are at the Dollar General across the street for $10. So....guess where I went a-running. It's quite complex, with a video and everything. Tried it out this morning, and it worked pretty well. Tomorrow is that holiday of nauseum, Valentines Day. Or as I like to call it, Friday. Let's hope for no calls from the receptionist to me tomorrow. |
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| Tuesday, February 11th, 2003 |
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God bless Office Space. I hate my job. No, really, I do. The people I work with are nice. It's very flexible. The benefits are good...but when it comes down to what I actually do, I hate it. Maybe that's the case for most people, but it's just so discouraging. I mean...right now... I'm researching all these old maintenance visits. Copying and pasting from our database into a spreadsheet. Then I have to go through the physical paperwork to confirm that the pieces of equipment that appear on the ticket were actually worked on. Sort of like an audit, except our customer is telling us that these pieces of equipment do not exist and if we don't find proof that they do, we owe them a ton of money. And you'd think that would make me care. However, I just want to have this spreadsheet to my boss tomorrow morning, because I do actually like him, and wouldn't want it to be on his back if things go badly. I guess that's enough though... but you see I've taken a mental break. I've entered that phase of the month that Crystal and I call "Cranky Time." It's so amazing how my PMS mood comes about, not to mention a bit scary. I'll find myself being extremely irritable all of a sudden. Like today, one of my coworkers sneezing incessantly was driving me nuts. I mean, really driving me crazy. And I like her. Then I want to just start sobbing for no reason whatsoever. And then I start to get angry...about....nothing? Everything? And what makes it funny is that it all hits me with no warning. I don't even think about having my period until all that stuff starts happening...then I know it's around the corner. Let's see...what else is new... Oh, in office related news, I don't believe I ever gave closure to the Flower Boy story. I sent him an email, stating: "Thank you for the flowers, but I'm not interested." To which he replied: "Good job :-) Your welcome." Huh? And, I'm sorry. That gross misspelling just sealed the deal. I think that should be enough of a hint to prevent me from any Valentines Day disasters. But I've thought I've given the hint in the past...and... well.. yeah... Ronnelle and I went to Meredith's baby shower on Sunday. She looks good. Her only weight gain appears to be the basketball in her tummy, and she's already eight months along. Apparently, they are having a boy. I went to the doctor's yesterday, for my first physical in ages. Of course she recommended where I should go next. That other doctor. No thanks. Other than that, all was well... Well, it should be anyway. They did do some blood tests that I have to call to find the results of tomorrow, but I'm thinking they should be okay. Who knows though? Anyway, I'm glad the trauma of a doctor's visit is now over. My new doctor is actually very nice, if a little impersonal, as well, so that's a good thing... Like everyone else on my "friends" list, I feel my life has become boring too. Well, not so much that it has only recently become as such. I just seemed to be faced with the glaring neon "BO-RING" light these days. It's the stagnancy of winter. It hasn't stopped snowing since November. We haven't even had one of those freak 60 degree weekends to which we are usually treated once a winter. And it's only early February. I would give anything for the freedom to drive south now. I am planning one brief break from the doldrums of my life in late March. I'm going to New York City for the weekend. I just got the approval for taking Friday the 21 off, so it will be an official "long weekend." Now if it were only mid-March right now.... But for now...back building the momentum of monotony... |
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| Saturday, February 1st, 2003 |
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So a homeless guy down the bar from me in this diner offers me a quarter for a cigarette. I give him one (for free, of course). I walk out of the diner, I suppose an hour later, and my meter has run out. And of course the authorities are right on that. Someone alert the Karma Police. Just got back from Used Kids and my new favorite place to hang out. Well, besides Used Kids. I found Whiskeytown's Pneumonia, finally bought Sheryl Crow's Tuesday Night Music Club, and Miles Davis Kind of Blue (Used. $7. Incredible). There is this sketchy diner nearby that I always pass and have some bizarre urge to patronize ever since I went in to change a dollar for the meter once. Well, today, I went in. I believe the place must be run by Greek-Americans, because there are gyros and Greek salads and various items ending in "-ita" all over the menu. Plus, the young girl working had an accent and there were Greek newspapers on the bar. Anyway, it's a pretty laid-back, unassuming little place full of wannabe-hipster college students studying and/or brooding over cheap coffee and cigarettes, bums who dole out their spare change collection for a cup of coffee or a donut, and, today at least, a granola family. It was a nice place to read the underground newspapers, sitting at the bar that faces out the window. Lovely for a chronic, incurable people-watcher such as myself. Before my afternoon of extended parking, I had the oil changed in Rhett this morning. It was in the waiting room of the garage where I learned about the space shuttle crash this morning. Simply tragic. I had vivid flashbacks of lying on my parents couch the morning that that the Challenger crashed, watching the news coverage. I must have been in first or second grade, but I still remember it. I think you expect such an event more on a launch than a re-entry. It's sad to think that these people on board, and their familes below were pre-occupied by the reunion that was to be today. And then something like this happens. Simply tragic. I also went shopping for Meredith's baby shower. Thank God for gift registry. I'm really very clueless when it comes the whole "baby" thing. Thank God that they put ages on baby clothing, and even pacifiers. As it turns out, I strayed from the list a lot (I just couldn't match up the items on the list with those on the shelf... what the hell is a "liner??") So I ended up getting an assortment of useful, yet cute baby things. Oh, and the list provided no clues as to the sex of the wee one. I guess it's to be a surprise. Meredith is having a baby. Meredith. Meredith is married. I went to her wedding. I was in her wedding. Ronnelle and Zac are married. I went to their wedding. Sorry...sometimes I still have to do that reality check. Meanwhile... My orange roses sit dried and shriveled in their vase on my dining room table. I haven't gotten around to throwing them out yet. |
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| Friday, January 31st, 2003 |
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| “After four years in Geneva, Sabina settled in Paris, but she could not escape her melancholy. If someone had asked her what had come over her, she would have been hard pressed to find words for it. When we want to give expression to a dramatic situation in our lives, we tend to use metaphors of heaviness. We say that something has become a great burden to us. We either bear the burden or fail and go down with it, we struggle with it, win or lose. And Sabina-what had come over her? Nothing. She had left a man because she had felt like leaving him. Had he persecuted her? Had he tried to take revenge on her? No. Her drama was a drama not of heaviness but of lightness. What fell to her lot was not the burden but the unbearable lightness of being. Until that time her betrayals had filled her with excitement and joy, because they opened up new paths to new adventures of betrayal. But what if the paths came to an end? One could betray one’s parents, husband, country, love, but when parents, husband, country, and love were gone-what was left to betray? Sabina felt emptiness all around her. What if that emptiness was the goal of all her betrayals?” | ||
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| Sunday, January 26th, 2003 |
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“Admirer,” Stop. Just stop it. Please. I suppose I should view your generous gestures as flattering, but the simple fact is, I don’t. I am not at all interested in you. I realize that that is a superficial statement- I don’t know a thing about you. But then again, haven’t you made similar assumptions of me? The first flower delivery was awkward enough. I spent most of the morning wondering who the flowers could be from. And I can’t deny that the whole “Secret Admirer” label didn’t knot my stomach right up. The card and Friday's flowers and the increasing anonymity of a typewritten note have put me off even more. Perhaps things could have been different if not for your continued method of approach. At the very least, we probably could have been friends. However, that’s not the case. Rather than talking to me, or seeing if we had a mutual friend, you’ve chosen to hide behind inapt gifts. For all you know, I don’t even know your identity. Doesn't that make you feel deceptive? After all, you’ve given me no clues as to who you are, and you don’t know that my begging the florist to give me a hint actually worked. So now what am I supposed to do? Two floral arrangements and an anonymous card later. Maybe this is entertaining to you. After all, you can just stand on the sidelines, blending in with the rest of the crowd, laughing with your friends as I awkwardly try to ascertain the proper reaction to such a gesture. I must admit that it was the condescending tone of your most recent note to me that has driven me from uneasiness to insult. First of all, you allege that you know how “truly beautiful [I am].” Oh, really? You know how truly beautiful I am? Have you ever spoken with me? What is it that you know about me that makes me so beautiful? Why don’t you just come right out and say it? “Just wanted to let you know what a terrific rack you have.” Then there’s the kicker, that patronizing final sentence. “Also it's okay to talk, or smile, or blink, or breathe. No one is going to bite you.” Gee, I wouldn’t know why I would feel awkward around you. You’ve only sent me flowers anonymously twice never having made an effort to approach me otherwise, nor to reveal to me your identity. I do talk. I do smile. I blink, and I breathe. Thanks for reassuring me that no one is going to bite me. That’s right; I’m just a scared baby bunny. That brings up an interesting point…..apparently industry standard on anonymous gifts is six to eight weeks? Why wait so long? Why are you still interested in me when I’ve given you no feedback whatsoever? You’ve no idea if we have a thing in common (other than what you’ve constructed from the personal affects at my desk). You know nothing about me, and if you do know anything about me I’d like to know how. I am, unfortunately, very familiar with Ohio’s stalking laws. So thanks for making my day at the office just a little more uncomfortable. Thanks for making me feel as if I’m some unappreciative bitch, who should feel flattered that someone thinks she’s “beautiful” because there are people starving for attention- from anyone- right here in this office. But the thing is…I’m an apathetic heart. I’m not a romantic. Flowers won’t win me over. You just assume they will, because you don’t know me, and apparently watch a few too many Meg Ryan movies. So, I reiterate: Please stop. Save your money and your pride, because you are getting nowhere. I hope that I have been able to entertain you for these past few months. Please do not interpret my response to you as a way of receiving feedback. I felt it was the only way to ask you to terminate this behavior. Regards, Melissa |
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| Saturday, January 25th, 2003 |
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I dunno. I had a weird James Taylor craving, so I put in his Greatest Hits and have now been mentally transported to a time far, far away. In more current events, I'd like you to guess who has struck again. Yes, the (supposedly) mysterious Flower Bandito, swooping in with another gift. More flowers this time. It's funny, because as I looked at the caller ID flash "6400 Receptionist" on my desk phone, I thought "Hmm...wonder if it's another flower delivery." This time it was 16 (have yet to figure out the significance of that one) peach roses. Although, after some googling, Crystal and I feel that they may have been meant to be orange, which according to about-flowers.com symbollizes fascination. Included with the arrangement was the following type-written (though his other two forms of communication were handwritten) note: "Good day, No special reason just wanted to say hello, and once again Let you know how truly beautiful you are. Have a nice day! Also it's okay to talk, or smile, or blink, or breathe. No one is going to bite you. Your Admirer" Hmm... so apparently my utter avoidance of eye contact with the freak has been...um...noticeable. Well, come on, it's awkward. Everytime I see him, I do everything possible to avoid confrontation. Except once, soon after the initial flowers...He held the door for me and I made steady eye contact and said "Thank you." He didn't take the bait. So after that, I was through....it was back to awkwardness. Freak. And really, as far as I know, he doesn't know that I know his identity. Renee put me up to calling the florist again, and confirming his identity. The woman at the floral shop said that she wasn't allowed to reveal his identity (umm...ya did before...), but she eventually caved on me. I now have his last name, at least. Everyone seems to think this is my cue to speak up. To confront him, and ask him to stop. But that's just...harsh? I don't know... I left the flowers in my office, as I didn't want to spill water all over my car's interior, thus creating facilities sufficient for a Disney on Ice performance. So tomorrow, Crystal is going with me to bring them home. It's a brilliant opportunity for me to play his little game... to leave him a polite note acknowledging both my flattery, and his freakdom. Or at the very least just asking him to stop. We're getting dangerously close to Valentines Day. In more enjoyable news, Ronnelle came in Friday evening, and we went to see the Dave Matthews Cover Band. I've probably mentioned them before... the lead singer sounds freakishly Dave-like. The whole band is very good, and it's a fun show. Crystal, two of her friends from back home, Brad and crew were also there. Nice to have a girls night with Ronnelle....it's been a while... Speaking of which...it's been a while since I attended some form of shower, wedding or other grown-up event for one of my good friends. February 9 is Meredith's baby shower. Meredith....is going to have....like.....a little Meredith. This adulthood thing, and my new-found and reluctant participation in it, still blows my mind. Mom, Sarah, Wendy and Eileen visited today. They were in town for a campus tour and also to do a little dress shopping. So we did lunch, and went to David's Bridal. I found myself wanting to try on dresses of the prom, bridal and bridesmaid sort. Egad, not that I want to get married or a wedding. I just want the dress. Come on.... I look good in white! Especially with a nice tan....mmm.... Anyway, Sarah tried on a few- none of which were perfection, so we gave that up pretty quickly. Then we went to Hobby Lobby to satisfy the scrapbooking obsession of the maternals. I bought canvas(!) and paints(!). Might I do an actual art project? Probably not, but they were on sale. The rest of my evening has been spent in front of the idiot box. Trading Spaces and I also rented "I Love You, Don't Touch Me," an earlier film of the same woman who wrote "Amy's O." Not as good as "Amy's O," but it had its moments. And here I am. And there I go. To sleep, that is. |
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| Tuesday, January 21st, 2003 |
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Every so often at our address, an event occurs. It is known as Drunken TV Night. It's usually a sponataneous venture, the catalyst of which is often some sort of national uniting television special. For instance, I believe the tradition began with the VMA's last year...or perhaps the V....um, whatever those other MTV awards shows are. Tonight, it was American Idol, followed by the next installment of "Meet the Folks." Drunken TV Night is a beautiful thing, that usually results in my being very sleepy, typing on the computer, and listening to Ryan Adams' Heartbreaker. Damn Sam, I love a woman that rains.... |
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Remember Flower Boy? The mysterious man, who back in September sent me an arrangement of flowers and followed that up expediently with a card sometime in mid-November? He now works in sales, which is just a hop, skip and a row of cubes down from my area, or in more practical terms, directly in my path to the restroom and most of the errands I run throughout the day. And those who know me, know my bladder and level of sitting-still-at-a-desk-ness. My trips are pretty frequent. So to avoid the gauntlet of awkwardness, I've begun occasionally using the restroom downstairs. To do this, I have to walk downstairs, through the mailroom, the lobby, swipe my access card twice, through the kitchen and down the other hall. It's good exercise though, I guess. Although, I just started on my new route a few minutes ago, and there was someone coming through the door I was about to open. Oh, it's Derek, one of the guys who works downstairs, in the middle of a conversation. I say "Hello!" and notice to whom he is speaking. Well, I notice the collar and first few buttons of the person's shirt, and realize it's that giraffe Flower Boy. I guess my plan wasn't so safe after all. Finally I reached my destination of Floor 1 restroom. The run-in with Flower Boy has sent me into one of those combination guilt-for-not-being-remotely-interested-i |
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| Sunday, January 19th, 2003 |
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At least now I can feel my fingers. I just walked some movies back to Blockbuster, and in the five minutes occupied by that endeavor, I thought I was about to lose all outer extremities. I have no idea what the temperature is (and frankly, I don't care to know), but with the windchill, it has to be close to 0. Needless to say, I left my apartment as little as possible this weekend, which is fine by me. As far as I know, Crystal and Brad went out last night, but I declined. There is no way you're getting me to put on some sheer little shirt, thin pants and walk 30 yards from the parking lot to the bar in single digits. Not happening. So I spent most of the weekend watching movies, television, reading, cleaning, cooking, working on compilation CD's- just being boring in general. I think I'm entering one of those hermit phases that I always get at this time of year... and that's not necessarily a bad thing. Crystal is barely around, which gives me a lot of time to think, undistractedly. Get things in order. Who knows? Maybe I'll get another resurgence of grad school desire. That seems to happen to me around this time of year. It's so bizarre how that works out... The weather turns bone-chilling, I end up staying in and wanting to nurture my intellectual self. Well, I suppose it's not bizarre, but it's certainly a predictable occurrence. My film viewing this weekend consisted of Ma Femme Est Une Actrice (My Wife is an Actress) and Amy's O. Actress was cute... Typical romantic comedy with...you know...subtitles. I found Amy's O to be hilarious. Also a romantic comedy, but edgier. Okay, the word "orgasm" in the title should indicate that it's not exactly a Hope Floats or that new thing with J. Lo and Ralph Fiennes. Wow...those are two names I thought would never be linked by the word "and." Oh yes, and it's worth mentioning that I am officially a "director's commentary" addict now. My television watching consisted of an embarassing amount of TLC. Mainly "Trading Spaces," but also the new show that now follows it: "What Not to Wear." A train wreck from which I couldn't pry my eyes away. The premise of the show consists of someone being nominated by a "friend" for a complete fashion makeover. In this episode, it was a 24-year-old professional who works for a cosmetic firm in NYC, and wears hoodies and birkenstocks to work every day. They secretly video tape her in day-to-day life for two weeks (this includes a hidden camera in the bedroom, capturing all. I think that may be taking it a bit too far). Then these hip fashion-y people watch the tapes and tear her apart. Then she meets the hip fashion-y people and they throw out her wardrobe and tell her everything she's doing wrong. No tears, but I think they may have just been edited out. I guess I'll have to wait for the new American Idol for that. The producers give her $5000 to spend on clothes, and she still picks out crappy stuff, so the fashion police rescue her and help her shop. They gave her a cute haircut and showed her how to apply makeup (how does one work at a cosemetics company and not wear make up?). Anyway, it's crack. Dad called this morning. Sarah and Mom were to go to college visit here next weekend- well, a prom dress shopping excursion veiled by a college visit. Now it looks like they may wait a few weeks, for whatever reason. There is even talk of me coming home to pick up Sarah and Wendy, bringing them back here and then my parents picking them up a few days later. That means I would be monitoring the prom dress shopping. Oh, happy happy joy joy. I just hope they give me a budget and there is no crying over back fat or lack of upper body enhancement. This just in: I'm terribly dull. I actually feel bad updating this with so little to say. I'm not even emotionally dramatic right now (which is a relief, believe me). Just sort of numb and content. Don't worry, I'm sure I'm just in line for the roller coaster ride right now. More thrills and chills later, no doubt! |
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| Wednesday, January 15th, 2003 |
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So I've been informed by some that they are sick of clicking on my livejournal, only to be fronted with a reminder of my menstrual cycle. I'm remedying that now. Only....er... I guess I didn't, did I? At least the title is irrelevant...that's a step in the right direction, right? I'm afraid I haven't much to say, although I'm sure that despite my stating that, this entry will become at least a few paragraphs. I'm doing the same old song and dance- work, sleep, eat, think, make self stop thinking, laugh, poop, talk, regret, lather, rinse and repeat. I had to attend this class for my job yesterday (hey, it's a day out of the office and free lunch) on basic electronics, specifically as it pertains to some of the equipment we manufacture. Once again, I amazed by the stupidity- eh, let's be kinder- utter lack of common sense of some people. Perhaps my hopes for human kind are simply too high. Perhaps I'm just really, really, really smart. I dunno. You be the judge. At one point in the class, we digressed and began talking about different sources of electricity, one of them being hydroelectric power. As our instructor mentioned the word "hydroelectric," a hand shot towards the sky. "Hydroelectric. Is that from windmills?" Okay. Quick survey of everyone reading this. How many of you know what hydroelectric power is? Okay, those of you who don't, do you know what hydroplaning, dehydration, hell hydroponics mean? Are you seeing a common thread? This woman, apparently, did not. I mean honestly. Anyway, after she was corrected, she said "Well, wind power is more efficient, right?" To which our instructor replied that it is not, but it is cleaner. "Well, if it's cleaner, why don't we just all use wind power?" Apparently....her house is full of a lot of fans? I don't know. Then.... As we were going over different ways of grounding electricity (such as in constructing houses), I learned that I was one of two (vocal, at least) people in the class who knew what to do during an electrical storm. A good ten people (I'm ashamed to say that they were all female) stated that during an electrical storm, they ran around the house turning off appliances, rather than unplugging them. I mean, seriously. This is what I don't understand... do they not understand the purpose for electronic devices being turned off in such a case? Is there a part of the brain that illustrates a little lightening rod, whizzing through a metal circuit into the house and into the plug that is still in the wall? Was Louie the Lightening Bug's pumping away during Saturday morning commercial breaks entirely lost on you? Now, I'm not saying that every time it storms, I personally hop about the house unplugging things (but don't tell my dad). But I am able to grasp the concept of why this is done. Enough of that. Crystal and Brad are officially dating now- as of 12/26. I've probably already announced that, but it's worth repeating. Needless to say, she is not presently in our apartment. Oh... last week, I got to finally give back to the road trip karma cycle. A friend of mine, whom I met last April at a DMB concert in Buffalo, was driving his sister to Oregon, and I offered up my living room sleeping accomodations to them. I got to have fun, being the tour guide of this lovely city. Fun times. I must take a moment to say how much I love and truly appreciate low maintenance people. We went to dinner and drinks Thursday night, and they departed late Friday morning. Now I'm just really jealous, and want to go on a road trip myself. Preferably south. It's ridiculously cold here, and not set to snap anytime soon. Well, unless you count Monday when we're supposed to hit 30. Highs in the low 20's, lows in the teens. All I want to do is stay inside. I believe I haven't much more to report. So off, I shall sign.... |
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| Wednesday, January 8th, 2003 |
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Or I've just received a visit from Aunt Flow. However you'd care to phrase it. I am currently at work, not to be confused with actually working. I'm finding myself very bored with my job these days... Not that I was ever too enthralled with scheduling maintenance visits on uninterrupted power supplies for a floundering telecomm company, but any novelty that can come with such a job has all but disappeared. And now, I'm in a position of limbo. The account with which I work is in contract negotiations and are cutting their service in half (not because of anything other than their financial distress). So I'm stuck here with essentially nothing to do until they re-sign the contract (at which point, I'll be bombarded with three months of work at once), which could take until late February. There is a part of me that wishes they would lay me off for a month or so (I think I still get something like 60% of my income). I could get a crappier crap job at Pier One or Express or someplace, and have some time to emancipate myself from corporate slavery. But I doubt that will happen. What will actually happen is they will transfer me to this position, where they are waiting for someone to come back in March (convenient timing), so I'm going to have to learn a bunch of new crap that I don't care about, while valuable information, such as the use of light in Baroque art, and how many children my great-uncle Jim has gets shoved from my conscious. Speaking of the irrelevance of my job... I've been on this major cleaning spree since I got back from Christmas. I've found a ton of old, random memoirs, shoved in the nooks and crannies of my stifling room. Among them, on my dresser, was an evaluation paper- you know... categories, little "x"s in boxes, etc, etc.- that I immediately thought was my recent Performance Evaluation from my current job. On my performance evaluation, I received good ratings. Nothing horrible...no ones. No fives either. Straight down the middle, leaning slightly in the 3-4 range. However, I noticed that it was not the evaluation form filled out by my supervisor, to be shared with me in our 10 minute chat about my job. Rather, it was an evaluation filled out by Dr. Dan Van Tassel to be sent to a grad school to which I intended to apply, but did not (I think it was UVA). This was an allegedly confidential document, the envelope addressed to UVA Graduate Studies Dept, sealed with Dr. Van Tassel's signature over it. Hiding inside were the evaluation and his letter of recommendation. When I decided UVA would never accept my GRE scores, of course I opened the envelope and devoured its contents. Needless to say, they were a bit better than my performance appraisal here at work. All but two of the categories received the highest possible ranking, and those two were a notch below. Strike that. One category was marked "unable to determine," for my abilities in mathematics. I was recommended for the program "enthusiastically" by Dr. Van Tassel. Okay, I promise that's my only college-was-better-I-hate-my-job-so-why-d I think I'm going to have to make a run to Target for Advil. Owwwww. I also feel like buying a CD... no good new releases lately though. Perhaps I'll pick up one of those CD's I am always meaning to buy. |
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| Sunday, January 5th, 2003 |
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....this is a beautiful song, I thought I'd share. After All Dar Williams Go ahead, push your luck Find out how much love the world can hold Once upon a time I had control And reined my soul in tight Well the whole truth Is like the story of a wave unfurled But I held the evil of the world So I stopped the tide Froze it up from inside And it felt like a winter machine That you go through and then You catch your breath and winter starts again And everyone else is spring bound And when I chose to live There was no joy, it's just a line I crossed It wasn't worth the pain my death would cost So I was not lost or found And if I was to sleep I knew my family had more truth to tell And so I traveled down a whispering well To know myself through them Growing up, my mom had a room full of books And hid away in there Her father raging down a spiral stair Till he found someone Most days his son And sometimes I think My father, too, was a refugee I know they tried to keep their pain from me They could not see what it was for But now I'm sleeping fine Sometimes the truth is like a second chance I am the daughter of a great romance And they are the children of the war Well the sun rose with so many colors It nearly broke my heart And worked me over like a work of art And I was a part of all that So go ahead, push your luck Say what it is you've got to say to me We will push on into that mystery And it'll push right back And there are worse things than that 'Cause for every price And every penance that I could think of It's better to have fallen in love Than never to have fallen at all 'Cause when you live in a world Well it gets in to who you thought you'd be And now I laugh at how the world changed me I think life chose me after all |
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| Wednesday, January 1st, 2003 |
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Happy New Years, baby. We could probably fix it if we clean it up all day... Hmm.. Let's see. I think that's it. Okay, now that I've gotten the song-quoting out of the way.... Good New Years Eve as you can probably tell from my post in the wee hours of this morning. Ronnelle and Zac arrived just before 5:30, and I started them right in on cooking. Such a great hostess I am. Zac made Chicken in Italian dressing, pasta, veggies, etc. I had purchased some spinach dip and strawberry cream cheese and French bread (sound familiar??). Topped off dinner with a little wine, and chit-chatted for a bit. Then we had an intense and endless game of Simpsons Clue before heading to Victory's (the bar with a band and the cheapest cover) to ring in 2003. Ronnelle and I made repeated trips to the bar, and I handed my keys over to Zac. We left the bar around 3:00 (wait.... 3:00? I guess they were open later for New Years. Or maybe my time sequence is off. You know how it it is.), and stopped by Tee Jayes. They were actually open (yay!), but the line was long and unmoving (boo!), so we came back to my place and Zac (again) cooked breakfast. I was pretty much out of it around 4:30, and slept off and on til noonish. I think Zac and Ro were both among the conscious around 1:00. Oh, Ronnelle and I made a new world record drunk dials just after midnight. I think we called half the numbers in my phone. She called her mom, her sister. Meredith, Lora (only had her office number... I'm sure she'll appreciate that voice mail tomorrow morning), I called my mom. It was fun. And a special thank you to Crystal, who was the only person to call me. In fact, we called each other at the same time. Speaking of Crystal Shagwell, I have not seen her in about 24 hours. Since last year! Egad! I guess having a non-non-boyfriend will do that. Oh..so slightly amusing story regarding the brain cells I apparently killed last night... My DVD player couldn't be directly hooked up to my TV (the one that has been with me for the past 8 years and approximately 37 moves), so I had to purchase this adapter after work yesterday. I began to set it up before Crystal and I went Krogering, and stopped halfway through. Then Ronnelle and Zac were here. I attempted to finish hooking it this morning. I attached the cable to the adapter and the TV, plugged the cords into the adapter.... nothing. No on light. Snow on the TV. Getting increasingly frustrated, I tried everything. Nothing worked, so I figured I had a dud adapter and took it back to the store. I exchanged it for another, came home, hooked it up....same thing. Frustration revisited. Finally, I decided to check to see that the cords were plugged into the adapter all the way, and decided to check the ones in the back of the DVD player as well, which I thought I had plugged in the night before, so as not to have to pull the player off of the shelf again when I hooked the rest up. Um..... Guess what was not plugged in...at all. So at what age can senility begin? I wonder how many people today titled emails, live journal entries, etc with the same that I used for this. Happy 2003. And seriously.... maybe this year will be better than the last... |
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Yay! Is 2003. New Year's Rockin' Eve! Me have alcohol. Zac drive car. He cook food. Yay! This year better than last. I am not an alcoholic. Look at my flawless spelling. Happy new years, kids who read my bloody livejournal. Food now. |
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| Tuesday, December 31st, 2002 |
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Amy and I discussing my potential tattoo for the big 2-4.... Amy says: I think something Arabic would look really pretty.... Amy says: Seriously. Melissa says: oh yeah Amy says: It's gorgeous writing. Melissa says: hmmm....but what should it say? Amy says: Uhhhhhhhhh....."This is my lower back." ? Melissa says: hahahaha!! Melissa says: I'll get them all over my body Melissa says: "ankle" Amy says: Oh, no! Better! 'Lombar' Melissa says: "arm" Melissa says: HAHAH! Amy says: "Stomach on other side" Amy says: "Backside" Amy says: "Flip over to operate" |
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| Well.... maybe it will? | ||||
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| Sunday, December 22nd, 2002 |
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Number of Christmas returned because someone else purchased said gift for intended receiver: 1; Number of gifts returned because could not find box large enough to accomodate gift: 1; Number of Christmas gifts remaining to be purchased: 0! (v. v. v. good); Number of cute boys who still do work at Book Loft: 1; units of caffeine in past 24 hours: 2 (including egg nog latte....mmm....); number of alcohol units consumed: 1 (well-deserved post-marathon shopping Corona); cigarettes: 0; number of gifts remaining to be wrapped/bagged and tissued: pile size of VW Jetta on bedroom floor And I can't bloody find the scotch tape. Had it yesterday, when taping up Christmas cards festively on pantry door. Must be around here somewhere. Did, however, after two hour search find calendars purchased as Christmas gifts in Greece this summer. Realized did not need to buy as many gifts as I bought for some. Sarah called last night to inform me that some girl in her class had purchased for Joe the Simpsons trivia game that I bought for him last month. First of all, why, Sarah, is anonymous girl purchasing $20 v. appropriate-to-personality gifts for your boyfriend? This of course, meant that I had to unwrap my gift and return it to Go! The Game Store. Went through pile of receipts on dresser, one under dresser, another pile on TV stand, and another near computer, but could not find receipt for Simpson Trivia Game. Decide to call Game Store and ask if they take returns without receipt- give store credit and such. Called two mall directories, searched online, called Sears automotive, but apparently Go! Game Store was figment of my imagination and Simpsons Game arrived in my apartment through mail slot by crazy men stalking us or Santa himself. Decided to just take game to store and ask there. No, they will not take returns without receipt. Not even for store credit or gift certificate type thing. My only option was to hang onto the game, go home and tomorrow (today) search for receipt again or purchase something else in the store for equal or lesser value. Being both lazy and pressed for time, I chose the latter. Ended up purchasing "What Would Homer Do?" electronic toy trivia game that looks like one of those toys babies have to learn the alphabet or counting or what sounds farmyard animals make. Am confident that Joe will love, but now have spent $10 more on sister's boyfriend than expected, and must consequently bump up Sarah's gifts. So purchased candles from Yankee. Should be even now, although with Sarah's birthday, am not sure. Perhaps should have generic all-purpose younger sister gift on hand, just in case see faces of disappointment or envy. Am really coming together with whole Christmas thing. Finished decorating Christmas tree after week of having it up, and naked aside from half string of lights. Threw decorative stuffed toys around living room, and put presents beneath tree. Accomplished all of this on Wednesday, when took hangover day after random-end-of-finals-let's-find-Brad-we-n New Year's.... Yes... Appears I will be celebrating with Ronnelle and Zac (who are doing quite well at not being Smug-Marrieds). Not sure what we will do, but should involve lots of people in a non-date environment, celebration and alcohol (there I go again...come on....is New Years!). Always have fun with those kids, so should be a good time. Pa Ru pa pum pum. Oh, get over yourself, drummer boy. I'm sure when the baby Jesus smiled at you it was just gas. Can not believe am going home tomorrow for Christmas. And that is December 22 today. December 22! Somehow Christmas accomplishments seem less triumphant when realizing actual date. This is not good... Still have to wrap gifts, prepare Carol and Al's package (oh, bloody hell....will be lucky if that makes it there by New Years now), write cards to coworkers, bake cookies, get in touch with Lora/Ronnelle to see where/when to meet tomorrow, pack car, watch movie rented Friday (what was I thinking?! No time for such things!).... Shite.... Am sitting around at computer when so much work to be done.... |
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| Friday, December 20th, 2002 |
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I just finished watching High Fidelity for probably the 438th time. I happened to catch John Cusack on Conan O'Brien tonight, and was inspired. Also rented Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil for tomorrow. For some reason, I feel okay. Just as my melancholy comes with no discernable catalyst, I guess the contentment does too. It's not elation, or blind happiness. I'm wary of it...cautious. But I'm not going to question it. We'll see what tomorrow brings. The holidays are upon us, and with them bring the gift and card giving dilemmas. It's easy to know that you should buy gifts for your parents, or your sister, or your best friend... and that you should send cards to anyone who sent you one, or anyone whose address you have. But there are those questionable people... People you see day to day...so do they get a card? People whose religious affiliations you are unsure of- a simple Seasons Greetings? And the best friends are easy to buy for... it's those people hanging out on the periphery of friendship. And you sometimes feel as if buying a gift for one, requires you to purchase for that entire circle of peripheral friends. Then there's the whole office quandry- who to give a card to, who to give a small gift to..how to give them a gift without anyone who did not receive a gift seeing. I think it's just best to keep a supply of blank cards and generic gifts in your desk drawer- or as I like to refer to it the Candle and Lotion solution. So far I've gotten two candles, no lotions. Yet. And I'm going to be spending all weekend working out the cards.... I'm still not into the Christmas spirit yet, but did force myself to decorate the tree and throw a few lights around windows, archways, etc. I can't believe it's only a few days away... I swear it's October. Last night, I met up with Ronnelle and Zac and Crystal and Brad to see Lord of the Rings. Completely captivating. I don't think I blinked during the entire final battle scene. Yes, it's a bit melodramatic (thanks, Zac Ebert), and they may have overused the hero-about-to-get-throat-cut-by-creepy-t I just realized I'm still on the "simple" update page, so no current music or mood. Since I'm too lazy to cut and paste and all that, I'll just tell you that I feel "okay" and there is no music, aside from Shawn Colvin's "Something to Believe In" in my head and the purr of my vaporizor. |
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| Thursday, December 19th, 2002 |
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| Happy Birthday, Amy! | ||||
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LiveJournal for Melsa.
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annoyed.
relaxed.
uncomfortable.
busy.