Retarded USC Girl: 10/10/2004

I honestly and fervently believe that everything happens for a reason. Not that I think our course is completely predestined.... but I do believe that the events that mold us and shape us... and at the very least affect us - were meant to happen --- all just a part of some great plan. Even when I have days where I am depressed and I question my career future and going back to school.... I still know that the right thing for me will happen.... it is just a matter of time. This sounds odd - sense I do have a tendency for being cynical. But imagine - a busy day at work, where you are face to face with the realization that you need to go back to school because this is, more than anything, what you want to do... and you want it so bad, it hurts. So you look at education options and timelines and you realize - this may never happen. So, you are depressed. Then you are with your parents at an auction - not exactly the one place in this whole world you are dying to be -- and you get a call from the one person you really wanted to talk to.

It is a funny little life I lead - filled with checks and balances. Nothing gets too bad. Sure, there are the little quirks and downsides.... but then there are those little affirmations that God is on your side --- or at the very least, has a great sense of humor.

So - here is the deal. The job market - well, it isn't great. This can easily be evidenced by the fact that my friends and I have basically secured shit jobs... or no jobs at all. So, what is a girl to do? I mean, I need to make good money.... but selling myself gets so tiring and fishnets just aren't as comfortable as they used to be. ;) Ahh, I dunno... it is so stressful. Really, it is. It is like, "Well what the hell am I gonna do?" And when it comes to my life... I am a worrier about the big things.... sometimes I am even a worrier about the small things "Will this bag really look ok with these shoes. Ok, I am gonna wear some white open toed shoes - when is labor day?" So, now I am worrying about the job application process and the possibility (and damn necessity) of going back to school. The schools I am looking at are in Columbia and Aiken, but I have recently been made aware of the fact that Financial Aid is much harder to get once you have already secured one BS. Ah, the dilemma. I know though that it will all work out. Last night, when I was so frustrated I was about to cry, I took a shower.... and thought about it. Everything will work out just fine.... I just have to keep the faith.

So no more helpless and hopeless. What is meant to be will be... and stressing and worrying over it sure isnt helping.

.... I would really love to be back in Columbia!!!!

Have you ever just sat back and marvelled at where life has taken you? I was thinking about this today (most likely as a result of the new meds lol). Anyway, when I was a kid - my parents bought my brother and me a car. It was battery operated and so cool. My Dad said that whenever I drove it, I would always run into the garage. Roughly 20 years later, not much has changed. When I was little, I used to play on a device called a Sit N Spin. While I am sure there are numerous devices brandishing that name in your local sex shop - it is also an expression that I am fond of using... or was when I was in HS. When I was a kid... not that I am Miss. Adult now or anything, I used to be a mean little bitch - again, not much has changed.

Ex. I was potty trained (fully) before my older brother. You know how everyone (ok, God I hope everyone or at least a good 20 percent of the population) goes through that whole "come wipe me" phase. You know, you can use the bathroom but you are not about to get your hands near your own shit. My brother called the infamous "come wipe me". I remember he was in my parents' bathroom and they were busy. So, I said, "Oh, I'll wipe him".... and I did. I took the TP and wiped his ass.... and then I spread the shit all up his back. I still laugh thinking about it.

I like to think that I was a fun kid. I used to pick on my best friend, Jessica. I would wrap up random shit from around the house and take it to her as a present. She would unwrap a softball. I would say "this is because today is the 2 year anniversary of that softball game we had in the backyard blah blah blah.... don't you remember?" Jessica's response, "How could I forget?!" And yeah, it never happened. Meanness.

But decades later... ok, more like a decade and a half - I still get my kicks doing shit like that to people. It is funny. Poor Kimmie. We used to write "thanks for the STD" in glass chalk on his windshield. We also convinced him that we all knew a language called Bulgarian Porcina. It was really Pig Latin. When he said he would find a translator, Buddha said, "Oodga Uckla".

I guess that the funny thing about all of this is that even though I am older, wiser, and legally able to do a hell of a lot more cool stuff than when I was 4 or 5, I havent changed too much. Sure, I dont wipe shit up anyone's back and I dont penny roll my jeans or wear the chuck taylor converse all stars, or think gold n silver clothing is so cool..... but I still have that childlike wonder an awful lot of the time.

Questions still impress me. Not boring questions like "what is your address?", but good questions, the kind that most likely have no real answer. The best of these is "why?" Humor impresses me and Lack of humor astounds me. How can someone live in world that isn't funny? I can't understand it. Human emotion surprises me. The ability to be surprised, amazed, embarrassed, loved, appreciated... The ability to hold all the cards and that opportunity to freely throw them away.

So on this Tuesday morning, I am realizing that I am not complacent... I am content, and contentment is a very nice place to be. I have grown up, but I havent fallen far from the tree. I like the idea of that. No matter where you go, or what you do - there inside of you still resides the child with scraped knees, bad jokes, and a nearly failing report card from third grade. And that is comforting because you know, better than anyone, that she is a good kid... and the perfect voice to have in your head in a world filled with after hours and deadlines, instant messages and cell phones, reality and necessary perfection.

Reasons not to talk on the cell to Seth while in Wal*Mart
1. He will realize exactly how much time I spend in Wal*Mart... and call me on it.
2. He will hear me ram my buggy into a passerby ... and won't pretend he didnt hear it.

I love Wal*Mart though.... there is always something good there. I found some fat free tuna salad - ooh la la. Umm... I also some travel cups... and ummm... oh pumpkins.

OK.. so the pumpkins were outside.... and I paid for them and then i went outside on my way to my car... to pick them up. I bought 4 of them. So i am holding my receipt as I grab the pumpkins... and I am inspecting them because I dont want to buy shitty pumpkins. So, anyway... the cart boy is hosting a buggy round up in the parking lot.... and he is eyeing me... like maybe I am stealing the pumpkins. So, I notice this... but I keep inspecting them.... brandishing my receipt all the while... and I figure, the more I inspect, the more legitimate my claim to the pumpkins seems. The cart boy is not budging. I finally have all four pumpkins in my cart and I am off to the car. Well, Mr. Cart Boy says, "have a good night mam". I am 23 - not hardly a mam. Then he offers to help me put the pumpkins in the trunk. So, I am all smiles "no, thanks. I have got it. Have a nice night". I mean, seriously.... if I was gonna pulla Winona... it would not be on some pumpkins. But oh oh oh! I forgot to mention. I bought a pair of earrings....for Halloween. They are lil skulls.... so the cashier treated them like a pack of gum - and asked me if I wanted to put them in my purse. But the bad part is - I did it! So if cart boy had busted me for the pumpkins... he would have been shocked when he looked in my purse.

You can only browse this wicked web of porn so long before seeing pictures of someone you know having sex. Today, was that day for me. It is an odd, odd feeling when porn hits close to home.

I was in Wal*Mart last night. In an attempt to purchase a big ass bag of Splenda, I was on the baking aisle. There was a woman there with her little girl. She was buying everything she needed to make a Spiderman birthday cake. I know this because Supermom was telling me the whole story about how she couldn't find black icing. "And how can you make a web on a Spiderman cake without black icing?" Well, then she was looking for plain white icing. Her daughter found a tub of classic white Pillsbury icing. The mother snapped, with an air of authority, I might add, "No. That is Pillsbury. I ONLY buy Betty Crocker! If I used that, everyone would be wondering what had happened to my cake!"

Clearly, for but a fleeting moment, I felt I was in the presence of Martha Stewart herself. I mean come on, people.... When it gets to the point where your family is full of cake mix connoisseurs, you just need to give up the goat. I bet her recipe for homemade chocolate chip cookies is as follows:

1. Buy a bag of chips ahoy
2. open them
3. put them on a plate
4. pass them off as homemade.

Retarded USC Girl

Friday, October 15, 2004

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Monday, October 11, 2004

Sunday, October 10, 2004

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