Thursday, August 4, 2011

Puzzle Pieces of Time

** This entry is still being worked on and hasn't been finished. Just jotting down a few ideas to calm my thoughts and allow me to sleep.

Oh, Time, you really are quite the strange thing.

Speeding by ever so quickly, yet staggering so slow.

So selfish, you are.

Why must the happiest moments leave our present so speedily?
And the most dreadful ones so gradually?

The hands of a clock run a familiar course, each hand stroking a familiar number while moving in a familiar circle, each of it's days all the same.

But each of these minutes, each of these seconds, holds a new memory -- adds a new piece to the jigsaw puzzle that is life.

Slowly, yet quickly, forming a past, present, and future.

Some of these sections of the puzzle are the less desirable parts of life to mend together.

Like an austere blue sky that seems to continue on forever, the pieces all look nearly the same, and does not leave you feeling as though you have conquered an ample part of the mending. It may even cause boredom or frustration.

While other sections are exciting, and beautiful. They make completing the picture worth-while and motivate you to continue on.

These sections usually seem to end quickly, and before you know it, you are back to having to complete more of that lowly blue sky.

Oh Time, you really are quite the strange thing.

Mending and bending, changing and never ending.

All in the name of creating "the big picture" of the puzzle that is life.

Friday, March 4, 2011

A Whole Other Kind of Rain

 (Note* This post is written in present tense, but the subject matter actually happened several weeks ago.)

It has been raining a lot lately.
I am one of those people who loves the rain if they are at home, but hates it if they have to drive in it.
Today it was raining, and I was at home enjoying being at home while it was raining.

And because I take showers at nighttime because I adore the feeling of being clean in bed, I wake up in the morning with a crazy head of curly hair that I just don't want to deal with. And to get rid of this craziness, it is just so much easier to put my head under the faucet and start all wet and new again.
On this particular day I wasn't feeling up to wetting my hair with the cold sink faucet water because I was already feeling cold, and I didn't want to waste water by re-showering.
So I decided to just use the front bathtub faucet to get nice, warm, comfortable water to tame my mangled mane.
Let me first mention that this particular shower/bathtub hasn't been used by our household for possibly several years because the water pipe is so old and corroded that we cannot fully shut off the water.  So it leaks. And leaks. And leaks. (This leaves us with a very costly water bill.)
And each time you use it? It gets worse. Also, the knob is independent from the little thing that actually shuts off the valve, so the handle spins. Although, if you are able to put the right pressure onto it, it will somewhat lessen the water flow.
But today I was feeling like taking my chances because my warm-water options were slim.
So I twist the knobs to create the perfect temperature, and stick my head under and enjoy the warm water pouring into my hair and down the sides of my face.
I am all cozy and relaxed, and I am SO glad that I did this.
Satisfied, I wring out and twist my hair up into a little towel hat, and push and turn the separated knob to shut off the water.

And I turn, and I turn, and I turn.

This water is so not turning off.

Panic sets in.
Panic-stricken, I go in search of a wrench or some sort of grabby tool to twist the water off with.
But me and my little towel head find nothing, and go back to trying to turn the knob manually.
The last thing I want to do is tell mother about this, seeing that her and I both know that this shower is off limits.

So I come up with a plan.
I will nonchalantly go out into the garage and ask Mom if she knows where a wrench might be. No big deal, I just need a wrench, nothing eyebrow-raising or suspicious. That won't raise any questions, right?
I decide to act out this plan, and I open the garage door to see my mom and her best friend Monica chatting.
"Hey mom, do you know where a wrench is?"
"Look on the chest in the living room."
I go look, and no wrench.
"It's not there."
"Look on the washing maschine."
-glances over-
"It's not there."
"What do you need a wrench for?"
"Um.... Well I just turned on the faucet in the front bathtub for a second to get my hair wet and I need it to turn off the water."
"Usually I don't have a problem turning it off!"
"You know we aren't supposed to be using that shower at all!"
"I know... But it was warm."
She groans and pushes past me to go try and shut off the water.
I stay in the living room with Monica and listen to my Mother's grunts of frustration with the faucet.
Then suddenly, there are sounds of a series of things falling, water flowing freely, and lastly, a scream, "MONICA!"
Monica and I look at each other with frantic faces, and Monica goes sprinting down the hall, with me at her heels.

Mother broke the faucet while trying to fix the faucet, and now water was spraying all throughout our small crowded bathroom in an indoor rain sort of way. I am expecting her to explode with anger, but she does not.
I am so thankful that she isn't the type to yell and scream and blame.
Although at this moment I feel that I deserve it.
She asks Monica to hold up the plastic container to contain the water while she goes outside to shut off the water.
Several minutes later, she comes inside all spotted with rain and looks at me with hope in her eyes, "Did it shut off?"  But it was still spilling out just the same, and when I had told her this she shrunk down and stomped with frustration then headed back outside.

Minutes later, the same thing happens.

"Did it shut off?"



Back outside.

Back inside.




Back outside.

Now she is gone for a while, so I go outside to seek her out, and I see that she has gone over to get the neighbor for help (he has been our neighbor for many years, and he is a sweet oldish man with a cantankerous wife who lives in her pajamas). The two of them (my mother and the neighbor) are crouched next to each other at the front of our house, gazing into the gaping hole in the sidewalk which contains the water valves and other important housely things.
I decide to go back inside, and suddenly, the water shuts off.
Leaps of joy!
As soon as door begins to open, I shout, "It shut off! It shut off!"
Then I see her.
And she is soaked, and she is unhappy. And it is all my fault.
I sheepishly mumble "I'm really sorry," to which she replies, "It's okay." And then pushes past me to go look at the faucet. "You're going to have to go get Dylan, because I need to go buy a gasket to fix this."
Normally I would groan and reluctantly go, but at this moment I was so happy that I could do something that might possibly make up for the fiasco I had caused her. "Okay, I'll go right now!"
"Thank you."
"It's the least I can do!"
And then there are giggles.

By the time I got back, she had already fixed the faucet. Like seriously fixed it. It wasn't the kind of fix that restored it to it's previous leaky condition, it was a complete fix, with no leakiness at all.
I do love this about my mother, she can do all kinds of guy handy stuff.
This is a quality I dearly wish I had, but unfortunately, It just didn't make it through the gene pool.

Later that night she and I are sitting on the couch together watching TV as she knits, and suddenly she stops knitting and looks over at me, "You know, I fixed that faucet better than your dad did. It's not even leaking or anything."

"Yeah, I know, that's awesome."

"Do you know what that means?"


"You have saved us a lot of money by breaking our faucet."

"You are welcome mother, you are welcome."

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Blue Satin and Brown Fur

Happy, happy, happy sighs.

My tablecloths came today.

Tablecloths for the wedding, that is.

I have been under tablecloth induced stress for the past several weeks now, seeing that plastic tablecloth providers are not fond of the Dark Royal Blue color. They either have bright royal blue, or dark navy blue. Neither are my blue  (We were originally going with plastic because we are cheap). For a while I've been toggling between which one to settle with because no one had the in between that we needed, and I wasn't willing to shell out that extra $100 to get fabric ones.

But last week? I acted on impulse and bought the dang cloths.
And today? Mother called me at work to inform me of their arrival... 2 weeks early!
(She knows just how much these little buggers mean to me.)
She said that they're more on the navy side, which is a little dark, but they're still pretty.
So I asked her to send a picture to my email...

And they are indeed dark, but they are GORGEOUS. Gorgeous, and Satin-y and luxurious looking.
People? Tablecloths have NEVER. EVER. influenced my mood as they have today.
If I was at home I would be squealing and dancing with joy.
"My wedding will be beautiful! Eeee! My wedding will be beautiful!"
But because I am at work, I will not do this.
The budget cuts are spreading funds thin, and I am not keen on giving the board reasoning to cut me.
Otherwise I will not be able to pay for these beautifully satin and luxurious table cloths. Ahem.
And this would be a sheer tragedy. (Or a satin tragedy? ha!)

These past few weeks have definitely been anything but boring.
It has been suspenseful trying to get an apartment. These people want you to turn your entire life into their hands just to allow you to pay them money to live in their smallish houses.
Social security numbers, drivers licences, current landlord's address and phone number, stock information, work place and phone number, any criminal history reports, proof of income thorough pay stubs, W-2s, and bank statements, proof, proof, proof.
When have I given any of these people any reason to suspect that I am a liar?


So I got these new boots.
My Aunt is a freak for LL Bean, and she tends to buy my family and I the clothing that goes on sale.
So every so often we receive little presents in the mail.
I know right? We are way spoiled. WAY spoiled.

Several days ago she sent me an email with a photo and a link to these crazy comfy looking boots that were on sale. (Like, seriously on sale.) They were perfect for the Alaska trip we will be going on in June (squeals of joy). I like them, so she tells me that she will get them for me.
Yesterday I got home hoping to come into my room to see a largest package on my bed from LL Bean.
And there it was!
I ripped the package open and gawked at these bootly-beauties.
They are not the most gorgeous things in the world (not like my tablecloths), but they are the most amazing boots that I have ever had pertaining to warmth and comfort.
They look like they have been knitted with love with dark brown yarn, and the inside is adorned with soft fleece luxury. At the very top is a ring of soft, brown fur (Presumably faux fur, you PITA members), with a drawstring tie to fit any calf size.
I am wearing these lovelies at this very moment.

Sergey got the day off of work today, and he was feeling extra lovely, so he stopped by my work and brought me lunch and coffee (I love it when he's all sweet and thoughtful). We met in the parking lot behind the center and I munched on delicious meat and mashed potatoes ("I'm a meat and potatoes kind of gal!") and I slurped down the coffee after discovering that the mug to the lid was wearing out and my coffee was being wasted on my shirt. It never seems to fail.
So anyway, I had forgotten to tell him about the boots.
So suddenly I hear him say, "So what, are you preparing for the Arctic?"
"Oh! My boots! Aren't they great? They're so warm!"
"Did your mom make those for you?"
I narrow my eyes, "No. She did not knit my boots for me." (My mother has just recently learned how to knit. She was a crocheting champion before, but now she has decided to take up a new challenge.)
"They look like it."
"Feel how soft they are! Why are you not excited? They are amazing! The inside is like a blanket!"
He leans over and feels the inside of my left boot.


My boots.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

The Power of Delicates

You know, this whole "laundry" deal can be a very long process.

This is why it is not a chore that I am extremely fond of.
However, I do enjoy clean clothes so I am forced carry out the laundry ordeal on a weekly basis. --Sometimes on a two-weekly basis, if I hadn't had the time and have still had some clean underwear in the drawer to live off of (underwear often decides when my laundry days will be).

This is usually how these days go:

1) Walk into bedroom to get dressed.

2) Open and peer into "delicates" drawer.

3) Notice that all of the comfy ones are gone, and all that are left are the undies that I typically avoid wearing (usually due to anti-wedgie purposes).

4) Look around room and spot laundry basket.

5) Which is overflowing with dirty clothes.

6) Sigh.

7) Grab rejected pair of delicates and get dressed.

8) Sigh.

9) Lug overflowing basket of dirty laundry down the hall and into the living room while pulling at wedgies.

10) Dump out monstrous basket onto floor.

11) Sort out into piles of "darks", "whites", and "colors."

12) Debate about weather it is okay to put the "whites" with the "colors" because the "whites" pile is so small.

13) Feel frustrated because "whites" are supposed to be bleached, but putting them in their own load will be a waste of water. It also means an extra load of laundry to wait for.

14) Decide that is reason enough to throw the two together.

15) Toss in these two piles into the washer, add soap and fabric softener.

16) Push a few buttons, begin.

17) Get a few chores done, or just sit around and watch TV while clothes are washing.

18) Hear timer go off.

19) Ignore it.

20) Continue to watch TV and ignore timer.

21) After interest has been lost in TV program, load dryer and put "darks" in washer.

22) Push a few buttons, begin.

23) Pull out laptop and surf the net.

24) Hear timer.

25) Ignore it.

26) Continue surfing the net as you ignore timer.

27) Eventually get annoyed at constantly nagging timer, and go get dry clothes.

28) Dump clean, warm clothes on couch.

29) Go put dark load into the dryer.

30) Come back into living room to see dirty dogs burrowing into freshly clean, warm clothes.

31) Yell at dogs to get off clothes.

32) Yell at dogs to get off clothes.

33) Go back to net surfing.

34) Hear timer.

35) Get bored of net surfing so go out and get dried clothes.

36) Dump warm, clean clothes onto previous pile of warm, clean clothes.

37) Go on with day and do various activities.

38) Upon arriving home, collapse on couch and watch "What Would You Do?" on TV. Next to piles of clean clothes.

39) Listen to mom nag  Hear mom request that I fold clothes.

40) Fold clothes.

41) Finish watching "What Would You Do?"

42) Take a shower.

43) Go into living room and grab clean underwear and pajamas.

44) Go to bed.

45) Wake up the next morning.

46) Go into living room.

47) Yell at dogs to get off folded clothes.

48) Yell at dogs to get off folded clothes.

49) Remove one stubborn dog off of folded clothes.

50) Go make oatmeal.

51) Get frustrated with oatmeal because it wasn't noticeable that this was a different kind of oatmeal (Steal oats), and it takes 30 minutes to make.

52) Almost burn oatmeal.

53) Have mom take over.

54) Puts freshly made oatmeal into bowl and enjoys on couch. Next to folded clothes.

55) Takes a few bites of oatmeal and feels overwhelmingly full.

56) Wraps up oatmeal and puts in the refrigerator.

57) Decides to bring folded clothes into bedroom.

58) Sets each pile onto bed.

59) Goes on with day.

60) Night time comes, and it is time to go to bed.

61) It is much too late to stay up and put away clothes.

62) Put clothes onto floor.

63) Go to bed.

64) Wake up for school.

65) Get out of bed and trip over folded clothes on floor. --Unfolding them.

66) This lasts for a couple of days.

67) By this time, the clean clothes and dirty clothes on the floor become indistinguishable.

68) Try to remember which clothes were clean.

69) Put those away.

70) Throw all the rest into laundry basket into an overflowing pile.

71) Sigh.


Friday, February 11, 2011

"Ohhh Yes."

Hello you!

It has been quite a while since I have updated, as I am sure that you know.
So much has been going on since my last post, some good, some bad, and some just plain funky.
My current dilemma? Is eloquently turning all of these happenings into a good, wholesome blog entry.

This always seems to be the challenge.

Well, I shall first inform you that Spring semester has already begun, and so now this is what has been consuming my life the past couple of months.
That, and wedding planning.

Wait... what?

Yeah, I think this was a piece of valuable information that I have accidentally left out in the past.
Sorry about that, folks.
Sergey and I have been engaged for about a year now, and our wedding date is March 19th, 2011.

Yes, that is next month.

We spent winter break planning it, and got nearly everything done.
Now all that is left are all of the details, like ceremony decor, entertainment, etc.
However, as each day passes I feel the load get just a little bit heavier, and I am seeing the beginnings of stress. Mostly because it appears in the form of breakouts, lack of sleep, and the occasional bouts of worrying.
Which, I assume is normal. Not pleasant, but normal.

So aside from school and wedding planning, work has been a little less time consuming then last semester, but none-the-less, still time consuming. My hours have been cut and I now work 15 hours/week instead of 20. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to have work, but when you're trying to plan a wedding and start a brand new life, a pay cut is one of the last things a person needs. This, and probably a fatal disease. I think a fatal disease will always one of the last things on earth that I will ever need.

Lately, a lot of weird things have been happening to me concerning work/school. Directly, and indirectly.
For example: One day I was leaving to go to work (at about 7am) only to find that my car has been covered in a mural of gummy worms, bears (gummy, not real ones. That would be insane.), monster stickers, and plastic bugs. Which I must note that these things are not fun to peel off in the blistering cold.
Luckily, I had left the house extra early so that when I found this masterpiece I had enough time to clean everything off without being late for work. Most of the stuff came off, and fairly easy, although I did drive around with white sticker residue on my windows for several weeks.
Sometimes you just get to that point when you just don't care.
I have reached this point in life a long, long time ago

As for the other weird stuff?

It seems as though I have been surrounded with seizure-having people.
The first day of class the girl that sat next to me suddenly put her head down on her desk and started shaking. Myself and the girl behind me seemed to be the only one who noticed, but neither of us understood what was going on. She looked like she had just read a really hilarious text message and put her face in her folded arms to muffle her intense laughing. (which had no sound at all.) After a minute or so, she suddenly sat up and looked like she had just awaken from some seriously intense sleep. Then she began to record this occurrence in a little notebook, most likely used for keeping track of when the seizures occurred.
& About a week after this occurrence? While I was packing up to go take my hour lunch break, a student comes sprinting into the center and screams "EMERGENCY!"  With his hitch-hiker like thumb pointing behind him, signifying that this emergency was happening in the hallway. So a co-worker of mine (who was not scheduled to work that day, but was just there for her own appointment) and I go into the hallway to see what was going on, and there was a girl laying on the floor straight as a board, and she was shaking just like the other girl had, yet she was conscious.

This was when I learned something new about myself.
When emergencies occur?

I freeze.

This is not a good quality.

I knew that I had to call 911, but for some reason I just couldn't do it. So I had my co-worker call for me, and... I left for lunch.
I believe I had Panda Express that day.

Food always makes me feel better.

Speaking of food, yesterday I had a short 30 minute lunch break so I went into the cafeteria to see what the daily soup was going to be. ( I love soup.) When I got into the cafeteria I spotted the daily soup sign, which read "Creamy Vegetable." Hm... this seemed like either a hit or a miss in the tasty department, but I decided to try it, but only after taking a gander first. And as I am reaching under the ridiculously low sneeze-guard glass and stretching over to lift the lid off of the metal pot to peer inside, (this quite a difficult task) I hear a voice just over my shoulder say, "Mmmm... That looks good." As my heart skips a beat or two and I nearly throw the soupy lid onto the floor, I spin around to see an older woman who I had just helped in the center just minutes before, and she is smiling. Smiling much too widely for a situation regarding soup, and her grin is gapped and toothy. I politely smile, and turn back around to empty two generous ladle-fulls of creamy vegetable into my Styrofoam container. Which takes a while, because I am not skilled at using a ladle while my arm is going through a glass-walled obstacle course. As I begin to seal my little soup container, I turn around to see whose presence I had been feeling closely behind me while I was ladleing soup. It was the same lady, and I guess she was serious about the soup looking good. So to confirm whether or not I should put the lid back onto the pot, I ask, "Are you going to have some?" To which she replies, "ohhh yes."


I guess there are people out there who are much more passionate about soup than I am.

Which I suppose isn't bad, It's great to have a passion.


Yours Truly

Friday, December 24, 2010

Overachieving of the Technological Sort.

Okay, so I'm still learning about this whole blogging deal.
There is a lot that I still don't know, and even more that I can not figure out.
But something excitingly new that I have learned recently?

There is a handy little graph that shows how many visitors you have had.
On a daily and ultimate basis.

151 views?! Exciting! And I thought absolutely no one looked at this.
Happy sighs.

But then? I notice a smallish link near the bottom of the graph, that says "don't track your own page views."

Which means that if you have never before clicked that little link? Every time that you have looked at your own blog, even for a second, that graph has tracked it as a view.

People? Do you have any idea how many times I have looked at my own blog?

I say that about 149 of those views have been my own.


Friday, December 17, 2010

Expect the Unexpected.


As of today, school is officially out.

And let me tell you, I am so glad that Tuesday is over and done with! (That was the day that my three projects were due.) Monday night was one of the most stressful nights of my entire life, -- not even kidding. (**Note: You should probably read my previous entry before this one, because this is an update regaurding that particular entry. Hence, the reason I'm about to link a whole lot of words to that page.)
I was up until 1:30AM running a one-man circus in my bedroom, by which I mean that I had an insane, yet somewhat productive process going to get things done. I slaved over creating the different scenes of my animation video, and while each scene was rendering, I would run over to my bed and work on my self-portrait, and then run back once the scene had saved and could start a new one. (Which allowed me between 1 and 6 minutes of drawing time between scenes.)

Now just because I was up until 1:30AM does not mean that I finished both of these projects at this time.
I actually finished neither before passing out from exhaustion. And as you may have guessed, I strongly regretted my ambitious decisions.
To make a long story short, I "finished" my self-portrait a minute before I had to leave and drive to school.

My computer animation project? Was completed 10 minutes before class, which caused me to be 10 minutes late.
I nearly finished it that night, but still needed to do two more short scenes and add in the sound effects. Since I was so exhausted I just decided that I would complete it during my 2 1/2 hour break before class the next day (The day it was due). So during this break, I got all of the scenes done, but then realised that there were SO many mistakes in the animation. Things were disappearing and reappearing in the background, and the eyelashes and eyebrows on my little robots would vanish from time to time. Not only that, I didn't have enough time to put in the cute little sound effects that I had taken so much time to find and download. So what I desperately did instead, was just extend the first of the 2 songs that I had originally intended for just the beginning and the end of the story, throughout the whole animation. --Which I must mention that this particular song I had never heard before, but upon typing in "Greatest Love songs" In Google, this one was in the top five and the title was appealing, so I used it only after hearing just a short clip of the beginning.
So after putting this mess together, without even watching the finish product, I headed off to class.
---Which meant that I would see my project for the first time along with my fellow peers. Very comforting, indeed.
& for the next hour and a half, while my professor was going through the animations, I was contemplating what excuses I could use while he beats me down about my animation.
Finally after he has gone through everyone else's final project, he asks the dreaded question, "Are there any more projects left that we haven't seen?"

I sheepishly raise my hand, "Mine."
And he clicks on my animation.
My palms are sweaty, my mind is racing, and could swear that my pounding heart could be heard by the guy sitting in the back corner of the room.

Now what happened next I couldn't believe.

During my animation there was laughter and enjoyment being expressed, and an overwhelming vocalizing of manly "Ohhhhhhhhh!'s" at a certain scene that I had created, then at the end? Applause.
And my professor? Happily exclaims "This is fantastic!"

What the heck?

Am I missing something?
Not that I am ungrateful, but seriously?
Isn't this guy supposed to be some sort of animation professional?

I guess my strategy worked much better than I thought, and my genius can now be determined as more than just a mere hypothesis.

My storyline was so great that it surpassed and distracted from my awful animating skills.
I am telling you, pure genius, my friends, pure genius!

Oh, and I must note the equally intriguing results regaurding my Basic Drawing class and final project that I had mentioned earlier. Upon my late night drawing escapade I came across the written assignment that was tucked away in my art box, never to be looked at. So I decided to look it over and make sure that I included all that was expected of me with this drawing.

And my discovery?

We were to use only the mediums that we had used in class this semester, which were: Charcoal, graphite, this crayon type pencil, or ink. -- so pretty much it was to be black and white.


My whole portrait was done in colored pencils.

If I were ever the head-banging-on-the-wall type of person?
This would call for some serious self-inflicted pain of the head sort.

So the next day I go to class and dread hanging up my drawing on the Critique wall, but I pin it up anyway, and it stands out in it's colorful glory amongst all of the black and white portraits. When I first arrived to class I spoke with my professor and let him know that I failed miserably at following the requirements, and surprisingly, he told me that it is okay and not to worry. However, when I nervously went up to the wall to point out my portrait, he said, "You broke the rules."

Um, excuse me?

Did I just hear what I thought I heard?
I believe you just told me that it was okay?

Thankfully, he continued, "But it's okay. I had wanted you guys to use what you had learned throughout the semester, but it's not that big of a deal."

Major sigh of relief.

Now, as for the winner of this unsaid drawing contest?

Not the girl to the right, and not the girl to the left...

And most certainly not me.

"So who?!" You ask?

It seems as though there was an unanticipated contender in this competition.

But the victor was actually the girl across the classroom.


I was flabbergasted.

Her self-portrait was utterly AMAZING.
My professor even commented that he was not even as good her age.


Why do I even try?