Things...

I Like:

• Elderly interracial/gay/lesbian couples. Seeing that helps me believe that not all those from that age group were brainwashed by regional or generational bigotry. Also helps me believe that honest true love may actually exist.
• Hearing songs I really like in public places (especially because it won't be whatever is playing on Top 40 radio). What I mean by 'public places' is the hold music on the telephone or the overhead P.A. systems at grocery/big box stores. Times like that.
• Cincinnati-style chili. I can eat a 3-way every night for a week and not be tired of it. 
• Roller coasters. 
• Friends who actually act like friends all the time, not only when it's convenient for them.
• Pooping on company time. 
• Thinking about attempting to grow plants this year. Even ones I won't eat.
• My cats.
• Not having to set an alarm clock.

I Dislike: 

• The fact that I will probably kill every plant that sprouts.
• Locking my keys in my apartment.
• People who fit at least one of the following descriptions: rude, shallow, disloyal, unfaithful, dishonest, false, uncaring, egotistical, manipulative, hurtful, entitled, or selfish. Also people who don't use turn signals.
• Vegetables. See above.
• My cats.
• Pooping in a stall next to someone else.
• Being the center of attention. (Note to Arby's/Chic-Fil-A: Please don't scream at me as I walk in the door. It's extremely unsettling. Thanks.). 
• When people who live two houses down park directly in front of my apartment. 
• Miley Cyrus.

That Are Short-term Goals:

• Riding my bike more often. I don't want to get chubby again.
• Coming up with some semblance of a plan for after I graduate.
• Going at least a whole week without crying myself to sleep, and going at least a whole day without thinking of him.
• Simply graduating.
• Seeing more of the people I love that also love me.
• Figuring out exactly who some of these people are...
• Getting my place not only clean, but hospitable for company. Like having chairs and a dining table and maybe even a real couch...

That I Want:

• Some chairs, a dining table, a real couch, and hell, why not... some bookshelves or cabinets too.
• To sit around a fire and drink wine with people dear to me.
• A hammock.
• A video projector. I have a screen I really want to use.
• For Athens and her population to finally get a damn break from being shat upon by life and bombarded by death. Not sure you heard, but 2009 is over.
• To have at least one whole day off a week.
• A massage.
• A new pair of Chucks.
• A reason to dress like a girl. You know; pretty dress, heels, even makeup!
• To find an Easter basket on my doorstep. Yes, it's silly. But you have no idea how big a kick I'd get out of this.

That I Hope For Someday:

• To fall in love again with someone who deserves it.
• To have this person read to me at night... I miss this tremendously.
• To live debt-free and comfortably within my means (Cue Sally Struthers: "Do you wanna make more money? Sure! We all do!").
• To love where I am and what I do; in short, to be happy with my home and my occupation no matter what it is or what anybody else thinks of it.
• To have a family, including one spawnling. Yeah, I know. Never thought you'd hear me say that, did you?
• To never entirely fit within the confines of a box. 
• To not only allow, but welcome, certain changes and risks. Otherwise life becomes boring and mundane.
• To stay true to myself, and be myself regardless of what may happen.
• To be the coolest old lady ever. And be surrounded by a bunch of geezers just as cool as me.

When I see you, you make my high come down...

Tonight after I got off work, I stayed in. Turned the music up loud. And attempted to be somewhat productive. Key word is attempted... see where I am now?

I need to clean up my apartment. Bad. As in I need to spend about four days snorting meth and injecting epinephrine and then using that energy to go through all my laundry (put away clean and sort out stuff that is now too big), vacuum my carpet, do my dishes, get rid of the random shit that builds up on open flat surfaces, and, oh, how about finish unpacking my crap? Yeah. It's pretty bad up in here. Even my cats think so. They let me know by puking on my floor at every possible opportunity. Generally when I'm getting my stuff together to walk out the door, just so I know I'll have something waiting for me when I get home. Thanks, guys.

So yeah. I got a little done. A little. Baby steps, baby steps. One sad thing; I was planning on listening to records while cleaning. But alas, my turntable is no longer working. Went to put on some shitty album I bought at Goodwill or Habitat and, nothing. Where the AC cord plugs into the back has been loose, and has come out of the frame before, but the wires were still fine, and everything worked. But I guess something happened recently where the thing just doesn't get power. Sadness.

The other night, I decided to watch a movie in bed. Fired up the old desktop computer that I never use anymore and opened up the DVD tray... lo and behold, there was a DVD already in there. Ha. What was it, you ask? It was my cheating, cowardly, waste-of-time ex-boyfriend's copy of I Heart Huckabees. Pretty much his favorite movie- he went on and on about it. And guess who doesn't have it anymore? Him. (Even though given where he is now, he's probably gained a few other critters since I acquired his favorite film). I thought I had returned it, but what he got back was an empty DVD case. I suppose that since it was the night he left me for a walking STD with the brain of a fruit fly and the personality of a clone of every other female mid-20's townie-hipster-wannabe that I was gathering his belongings, while crying uncontrollably and doing my best to not vomit and/or hurl myself from my second story balcony, it didn't cross my mind to look inside the DVD case I was packing up. Ooops. I was a bit distracted. My bad.

I have decided to banish white socks from my footwear repertoire. They just aren't any fun. I will keep what I have, but will purchase no more. From now on, only fun colorful or patterned socks. Life is too short for boring-ass socks. And no, I will not go out of my way to ensure that my socks match my clothing. I will only ensure that my socks each match each other. Because duh... mismatched socks are so tacky.

At work today, a couple customers returned an electric crackling fire log. You know, one of those fake logs with a lightbulb behind an orange moving cover that makes it seem like fire? Yeah, one of those. Nothing wrong with it. Works fine. But we can't resell it. Because the thing REEKED of weed. Not smoked weed, but sticky, fresh-from-the-baggie weed. Or so I've been told that's what that smells like... When I say reeked, I mean you could have turned the thing on and just the little bit of heat that lightbulb put off probably would have been enough to hotbox the room. It was strong enough that we all took the damn thing completely out of the box to make sure they didn't leave a stash in there. For the rest of the day, it was a fun game of "Name That Smell!". The box stayed behind the customer service desk, and every time an employee would walk by, whoever was behind the desk would call them over and have them smell the logs. "What do you smell?" Most people got it right off... there'd be that moment when it hit them... snnifffff....... Haha! Whoa! They were dubbed the GanjaLogs. Too bad we don't really sell such a thing. Afterall, I do get a discount.

Not that I would ever buy such a product or would even know what to do with it...

Where I've been the past 5 days...

I have just returned from the 2010 North American Veterinary Conference in Orlando, Florida. Four days of educational lectures/sessions on all sorts of interesting (and sometimes not-so-interesting) animal-health related topics.

But with these sorts of events come other things. There is the little bit of networking you can do to meet those in your field. There are the insanely overpriced sandwiches and sodas and, well, everything. There are the social events sponsored by the big-name companies.

And then there is the Exhibit Hall. Where vendors near and far come to exhibit their products and services. The Exhibit Hall- also referred to as the Free Shit Extravaganza. Seriously. I came home with so much stuff; some useful, some just trinkets, but all branded. I really would like to see the total amount of money spent on this stuff by all these companies. I will not need to buy a pen or a notepad for the next three years. I got a number of really nice and useful books- real, actual books on pain management, parasitology, animal nutrition and dietary management, the use of Sevoflurane, emergency medicine, and algorithms to aid diagnoses. Educational CD-ROMs on various subjects. I got a camping stool. A travel coffee mug. A stainless steel water bottle. A pair of Crocs. A couple T-shirts. A hat. A pedometer. A flea comb. Samples of soap, hand sanitizer, wound treatment sprays and lotions, odor removers, surface sanitizers, cat treats, dog biscuits, bird treats, natural calming supplements, feline probiotics. A laptop bag. A balance ball. A bunch of those reusable grocery-type bags. Keychains, magnets. Letter openers, luggage tags. A couple travel first aid kits. All sorts of little knick-knacks and what-nots. And did I mention the pens?? Absolute Heaven for a pen-fetishist like me. This Exhibit Hall was larger than a football field, a carnival of commerce, a veritable sea of salesmen and samples and soundbytes. Compounding pharmacies, major pharmaceutical companies, pet food manufacturers, pet product distributors, surgical instrument makers, digital radiology and ultrasonography manufacturers, pet burial bag and urn makers, dietary supplement makers, not-for-profit organizations, veterinary professional organizations, practice management software companies, book publishers, kennel makers, surgery table and light makers, colleges, the military, corporate veterinary hospitals, collar and leash makers, companies that make everything (3M), needle/syringe/tube/catheter/etc. manufacturers, pet insurance companies... you name it, if they do something or make something that could even be in the same building as an animal, they were there. And besides all the free shit, I did get exposure to smaller companies I had not heard of and information about what these companies offer- always good to know what's out there when actually working in the field.

I did learn some things from the sessions as well. I really enjoyed a few lectures on animal behavior given by a DVM. There were a few I wasn't so thrilled about, must most taught me at least one thing I didn't previously know. I was a little surprised at how basic some of the technician-track lectures were; a few in the 'advanced' and 'specialty' category were not much more than I have learned in my classes. I also found many of the DVM-track lectures to be less dry and with more humor- it was obvious that those were professionals who were used to lecturing to large groups.

We were allotted $15 per day to buy lunch at the conference. Now here in Athens one thinks, "Shit yeah. $15 is gonna get me a killer lunch! I'll hit up DePalmas or East West, maybe check out who's over at The Globe or Trappeze. No T-Stand for me today!!". But alas, in Orlando, at a conference, in a Marriott-owned hotel... not so. There, $15 equaled one sandwhich (hamburger, turkey/ham/roast beef, or caesar chicken wrap), a teeny bag of chips, a candy bar or cookies, and a can of soda. And then back at the hotel we were staying at, one of those little personal pan pizzas from Pizza Hut was $6. A 20-oz bottle of soda was $3. Place be expensive.

And hell, I got to see Foreigner. Thanks to Bayer for that one; they were the Monday night entertainment. Unfortunately my camera died 15 minutes into the show. I was hoping to have video of my favorite cheesy Foreigner song, but no dice. Either way, it was awesome. In so many ways. The entertainment for the opening ceremonies was Martin Short. I haven't seen him in anything recently. He looked old. It was pretty good, and he resurrected a few of his past popular characters. But sorry, Mr. Short. You just can't top Foreigner.

So all in all, a pretty good trip. Fun was had, learning was done. But I am glad to be home. I missed my kitties and my ridiculously-comfortable bed. I missed drinking a beer and watching a movie and fucking around on Facebook and Blogger. I missed nice toilet paper.

Yeah.

Good to be home.

Duet.

The other day I was in the liquor store buying booze (heh, what's new?)... of course I was carded because the only thing I have that gives away my real age is some sporadic grey- actually metallic silver- hairs. Here I am, all disheveled and fresh out of a full day of school and work, seriously needing a shower, buying a bottle of Jameson and a bottle of Bulleit. And the guy behind the counter looks at my ID and says "That's a good picture of you". Of course the first thing I think is, "Jesus, I must look like shit right now...". It's not a bad photo. But it's not particularly good either. I look pretty goofy in it, a little too happy. Mostly due to the fact that the night before I renewed my license I went out and got blasted on bourbon (duh) and good beer, and was attempting to not be obviously hungover at the DMV. I'm wearing a yellow hoodie, my hair is a little flippy, and there is a glare from the flash off my glasses. I got there hoping they wouldn't take a new photo. The photo previous to this one; that was a good photo. I pretty much begged the woman to let me keep it, to no avail. So yeah, what to think when someone tells you a photo you aren't all that thrilled about is a good one? Other than "Gee, thanks. Glad to not look like my usual ogre self.", I'm not sure.

Had my first instance of blatant racism in a long time today. At work. I was behind the service desk, as per usual. A girl named Tiffany happened to be using one computer at the desk to print something out. Tiffany is a cash office clerk; she does not deal with the public or the store itself or anything. She doesn't know where anything is, or what department carries what. But of course, she's standing there, and though she's not wearing a vest proclaiming her employer, she becomes fair game. An elderly woman comes up and, as I'm on the phone, ropes her into a conversation about whether those ant hotel bait trap things make your house smell. During this time, a middle-aged black woman comes up and gets in line. Now is the time to mention that Tiffany is also black. My phone conversation ends, Tiffany is still telling the elderly woman that the ant hotel will not smell bad, so I smile at the middle-aged black woman and say, "I can help you right here, ma'am!". She looks at me, curls up her lip, and shakes her head. Um. Ok. So then I think, "Well, she's wearing a scrub top- maybe she's a caretaker and is just waiting on the elderly woman who is asking sort of crazy questions...". But then the elderly woman leaves and though Tiffany tries to make her escape back into her cozy little money room with no people, the middle-aged black woman walks up to her and asks her about some sort of rack we used to have (of which Tiffany has no idea, and proceeds to just make something up and send her off to Hardware). So then I think, "Well, maybe they know each other.". After the woman wanders off, I asked Tiffany if she knew her. Nope. And then she laughs about how she had no idea what that woman wanted... then she says "I thought she was with that other old lady since you were standing there and she didn't ask you.". So then I told her how I'd tried to help her, and got shot down. Jokingly I say, "I guess she didn't want to talk to the white girl!" Tiffany just laughed even harder, then told me how she had no idea what she wanted and just sort of sent her off somewhere. Then she says, "That's what she gets for asking the black girl instead; I should have told her it was in Garden! Yeah, just go out those doors, oh yeah, keep going, you'll see it!" Glad I wasn't the only one to see the ridiculousness of that situation. But still... wow.

"Well, I think I'll have a Coke, then."

Just before the new year, I wrote a long email to a friend in which I described the way my quarter-life/late 20's crisis was playing out. I felt it made the email a bit too long, so I deleted it all before sending with a statement saying I was going to write a blog about it instead. As you can see, I've still not done that. And today I'm not going to. I'll get to it at some point I'm sure....

It has come to my attention that I need either a bigger fridge, or a seperate fridge that is used exclusively for beverages. I don't know why I must (MUST!) have the selection of drinks that I do. And I'm not talking about alcoholic drinks; no well-stocked bar with every spirit I could imagine so I can make you any drink you imagine, no. Though that would be super-neat, so feel free to contribute... I'm talking just regular old drinks. It's completely unnecessary. I live by myself. No one every comes over and hangs out. I don't have parties. But shit, if someone did come over? Damn, I got something for you to drink. I guess I just can't commit to having the choice of only one soda, one juice, and water and milk. Today, for example, I went to the grocery store. And left with a carton of milk, three different 12-packs of soda, two different containers of juice, a package of juice boxes, coffee beans, Ovaltine mix, a 12-pack of beer, and a 6-pack of ginger ale. This is now added to the left-over cans of a different fourth soda, 2 other containers of juice, a container of egg nog, and a pitcher of water. WTF?

Speaking of beverages... lately there have been a higher number of people at my place of work carrying around soda bottles. But instead of soda, they are filled with Essence of Oral Neoplasia. Absolutely disgusting. I can't believe there are still that many people- young people at that- who chew tobacco. I just don't see where someone would think, "Damn, brah. Smoking cigarettes makes dudes look like pussies. But when those bitches see me comin', with my big bulge and that little bit of chunky brown liquid trickling from the corner of my mouth, you know they all be creamin' their panties!". I mean, really. Who doesn't want to make out with that? Hell, he might even share his wad.

Something else that's become more common at work is something totally small and stupid, yet each time it happens I have a moment of freak-out and then really want to bathe in something corrosive. I'm not sure if it stems from a lack of mathematical prowess or from sheer laziness, but I really wish it would stop. And this is going to make me sound like one of those OCD germophobes who has to use exactly 0.47 ml of pink liquid handsoap squirted into the left palm between the love line and the life line just below the ring finger knuckle when they wash their hands 46 times a day. (on a side note... I wonder how those people do with the public sinks that have the push-down faucets... you know, the ones that only give you 7 seconds of water before you have to push it again?) Anyway. What bothers me is when these dirty old man contractor/construction types come up and pay with cash, hand you the bills, then dig through their pockets for change, usually while saying something stupid about how the cashier should take them out to dinner. But then instead of looking at their change and giving you the proper coins, they hold out a dirty old man construction type hand filled with coins (mostly pennies), random screws, chunks of lint, tokens from something-or-other, wads of paper, old pieces of candy, and god knows what else. And then stare at you. Until you realize that they are expecting you to dig through it all for the correct change. Ugh. Half the time I don't even want to touch your money. The last thing I want to do is go feeling up your hand to find a nickel. It grosses me out. And makes me want to set my hands on fire.

I really like salt and vinegar chips. So much so that I just ate almost half a bag while writing this.

Another thing. Monster Jam. Fuck yeah. I think I shall go again another time.

So far...

Meh.

2010 (twenty ten, of course) has yet to blind me with brilliance. It's four days in. The first day, I slept in, ran my rent check to the landlord, then spent the rest of the day lounging on the couch eating junk food and watching movies. But then day 2 hit.

The morning of Day 2, my car wouldn't start. Turn key, nothing happens. I was an hour late for work (but only an hour late thanks to a ride from a friend). Upon descriptions of what didn't happen when I turned the key, the most likely explanation was a weak battery that couldn't handle the cold. And I agree with it, because I don't like cold either. But I'm not allowed to just stop. Jerk. Anyway, work, then friend who took me to work picked me up and took me to Hell On Earth (aka Wal-Mart) so I could get a new battery. Of course, the only one they had that would work for my car was the expensive one. But whatever. I just want it to start.

Get that, get some cat litter, get the hell out of there. Friend I'm with has an invite to hang out for a bit downtown, so I go with. It's already dark and freezing out, so it's not like we're going to go put this battery in now. Go have some beers. Go make a run somewhere. Back downtown, another friend shows up, new venue, more beers. Yay Saturday night dance party! Someone stomps on my foot, whatever, happens all the time. Dance with some folks. Have a bit too much fun....

Day 3. Get up after not nearly enough sleep. Go to work. Have to get a ride again since new battery is in friend's car and not my car. Foot hurts, but I figure it's my crappy shoes. Work, get a ride home. Call friend with battery and cat litter. He comes over. Just for shits and giggles, he says to try to start the car. And it starts right up. WTF? So we don't put in the new battery, but agree it'd be smart to hold on to it for a few days and see what happens. Friend leaves, I make dinner, lounge on couch, watch movies. Take off shoes. Foot still throbbing while I'm just sitting there. Take off sock. Whole left pinky toe is blackish purple. Yum.

Day 4. Toe hurts more than yesterday. I feel gimpy. But there isn't anything you can do about a broken toe, really. And I probably look pretty sketchy because I make wide berths around people; I'm terrified someone will step on my foot or bump it. That shit hurts. And this morning, car would not start. So friend comes over, puts in new battery. It starts! Yay! Take a shower, go to a meeting. On way to meeting, stop and get gas. And car won't start... WTF? But then it does, just after a 5 second delay. What is that about?

So far 2010 has given me 80 bucks spent on a battery, a car that is still acting up with the new battery, and a broken toe.

Sigh.

2009. The year that went down in infamy.

A year ago today, I had such high hopes for 2009.

After having a mildly stressful 2008, which then turned around in the second half, the first day of '09 held nothing but good for me. I finally liked where I was, who I was, and everything else that goes with it. It really did seem like finally things were going my way, and it was about damn time too. I saw so much potential for 2009.

I had a job that I liked though the pay was a little on the low end.
I lived in a little house that I loved and had no desire to leave.
I was seeing a man I was already falling deeply in love with, who seemed to care for me just as much as, if not more than, I cared for him.
I had the school situation figured out, and it was no longer a concern.
All in all, I had a keen eye on the future and all things looked good.

Funny how everything can fall apart in a year. One by one, each of these things (and all the lesser things that went with them) were systematically taken from me. I didn't lose them; they were ripped away from me and I was left standing there wondering what I'd done this time to deserve it.

It started in March. My job decided they didn't need me; first they dropped me from 46 hours a week to 16 with a promise that my hours would return when the fiscal year turned in a couple weeks. Budgeting, they said. But no worries, you'll be back on the first of next month. Lie. Two weeks later they laid me off instead. Right in the middle of a completely bottomed out job market- no one was hiring. Then it took three weeks for unemployment to go through, so I was without any income for almost a month, and didn't make enough at that last job to keep a buffer going.

So I couldn't pay my rent. I talked to my landlord, and arranged to find new tenants for the house. She agreed to let me out of my lease early with no penalties. But I loved that place.... At the beginning of April I moved into a house with two people I didn't know. A house in the woods 30 minutes from Athens. At first it was cool; there were all these plans for the place and whatnot. It was going to be a nice change from what I was used to.

Beginning in May, I got hired as a seasonal employee at a home improvement retail store as a cashier. Starting pay there was more than minimum wage, and was more than I made at the job I liked. The job is ok; it's mindless and simple and doesn't require outside energy. Clock in, do your thing, clock out, done. And well, in a time and place where any job was scarce, steady employment was welcome. But I often worked evenings, not getting home until 11 pm. Which was around the time said man was generally getting ready for bed for his normal day job. So we started seeing less of each other around this time.

Then one of the housemates got a job in Tennessee. He was going to be living there through the week, and be home on the weekends. The other housemate already worked nights 4 nights a week, so there was often no one there when I was there. It started to get really lonely, and the man was getting tired of driving out there (I was still in a financial hole and was often low on gas).

By the time late July hit, I wanted out of that house because it was too far away, and just so lonely out there. Then that option was the only one I had, because at the beginning of September, I was told that the housemates were breaking the lease, and I should go ahead and find new living arrangements.
I wanted to be closer to town, closer to my love, back in the place I fit better. With working so many evenings, I know he was feeling lonely too since I just couldn't be there as often. But I didn't have a choice at that point. And besides, we loved each other and said so, and what's the most important thing? It was temporary, until I graduated and got a normal job.

Well, even that wasn't good enough. He moved into a new apartment in August, and within two weeks was hanging out with a girl he had tried to date a few years ago. She, at that time, was not interested in the least. But now she was looking for attention from anyone who'd take her. And he was there to give it to her. She lived in the apartment upstairs, one over. So she turned on the charm. She knew what she was doing... and she knew I was busy and not around all that often anymore. She made him believe he was a lot more unhappy than he'd ever been, seeing as how he'd never said anything to me other than about how my schedule sucked, and generally when people really love each other they work on any issues before they just cut and run.

So a month later, he left me for her.

With no warning, nothing.

Just a week earlier he'd made a comment about how he'd never been with someone as long as he had been with me. Then he had said, that same day not even 20 minutes later, that he liked that he could be himself with me; he didn't have to hide his cheesy jokes or crude behavior. He said he liked it even more that I was just as cheesy and crude as he was. He said it made him happy, and that was one reason he loved me. A week before that, he had said that if I needed out of my house, and hadn't found anything, that I could move in with him. He said it would be nice for me to be around more. I wasn't going to do that permanently, because I didn't want to cramp his space, and also because I knew his views on couples living together too soon. But I thought about it, and thought about how nice it would be to be there. We'd also had a running joke about how fast he'd get me to the clinic if I were to get pregnant; obviously neither of us were in a place to have kids, so yeah, terminating it would be the logical thing to do, and this was an opinion shared by both of us... but still, one afternoon in August we were sitting on my back deck. As I said, that talk was generally all joking and stuff. Then he busts out with "Well. I mean, if it really did happen... would you want to keep it?" And I sat for a moment, and said with all honesty, "For me, I guess it would depend on timing. Right now would be bad, because I'd be due just before graduating, so I wouldn't be able to finish school. But say, if it happened in December... well, honestly, I might. Is that ok?" And he said yeah. Also around this time, he was talking about how he really needed to go back to school, to figure out what he wanted to do. I asked why he was so worried about it; I knew he wanted to go back, but he hadn't decided on what or where or anything, so it didn't seem to be so urgent. He said he needed to go back and get a different job. Because he couldn't support a family on his current income.

I mean, if I'm telling the man I would have his kid he's got to realize that I'm in it for the long haul. And these statements made by him all happened in the month previous to him leaving out of nowhere. And to me, these things don't sound like things that someone who is totally unhappy would say to their significant other.

But regardless, I guess 2009 had other plans, because he still left.

That was definitely the kicker for the year. After everything else fell apart, I had the one thing left. But he just couldn't handle real life it seems. Just couldn't handle that things aren't always perfect, and that people aren't always completely happy.

So yup. 2009. A year that started out with so much promise ended up ripping me a new one. And for that, I say Good Riddance, 2009. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.