I was delivered with the honor of manning a concessions booth today, withering the time away taking quarters from 9 year olds who want a Snicker's bar.
It was kind of fun, watching with perverse joy how long it took the average person to find the ketchup/relish/mustard for their newly purchased hot dog.
I've decided that before I die, I must spend at least one day working at a large grocery chain, bagging groceries. I think it would be interesting to see what everybody buys, and silently mock them for it. Nothing personal against the shoppers. Groceries are just very un-glamorous objects.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 6:34 PM
Friday, March 07, 2003
I never cry in public.
It's not a matter of my thinking that it shows weakness. It doesn't. It's just a natural reaction to hurt, and hurt is perfectly normal. No, I don't cry in public because I'm not a very emotional person in public. This goes for both sides of the spectrum.
You could argue that emotion is perfectly natural and normal too. It is. I agree. Yet so are death and periods, and you don't exactly need to be flaunting that either. If you're happy and you know it, shut your mouth.
This probably makes me a boring person. I don't care.
But when the score was 16-14 at the end of the tournament, and we had the lower number, I silently started to sob.
It wasn't the game. That was dissapointing. It was the game, the people in my life, the people not in my life, the things I had and had not done, what I ate for lunch (acavados with bell peppers, radishes, cherry tomatoes, and hardtack with lemonade). It was as if that everything in my life had boiled up to that moment, and I lost. I lost the game of life.
And now I'm being all melodramatic and silly about the whole episode. Because it wasn't that bad, life goes on, and maybe I can eat something satisfyingly greasy and sugar-laden tomorrow.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 9:12 PM
Thursday, March 06, 2003
I was sitting down with a bowl of ice cream, preparing myself for the holy grail of reality television: Survivor, The Amazon.
Instead, it gets preempted with a press conference from the White House, Bush banging the war drums.
Seriously, I can understand the so-called "reality television" boom right now. Compared to real life, the corporate fashioned "reality" we are presented with on TV sounds pretty darn comforting. And so it pisses me off when they kick my happy hour off the air in favor of the very man I'm trying to run away from in the first place.
It also pisses me off when said man speaks as if he's spelling each word out individually, speaking so slow that you can hear the typewriters stop, waiting for more information to write down. Although, perhaps he is spelling everything out in a way: We...are....going...to...war. Daddy...must...be...revenged. Say...goodbye...to...your...children.
I'm not an over political person. I don't understand it all, myself. But it pisses me off nonetheless.
Speaking of being annoyed, don't you hate it when you're spooning out ice cream and the spoon bends under the frozen weight?
Not quite on the same level, I know, but it had to be said.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 8:15 PM
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
Because of said snow, I was elected to shovel the driveway.
I decided to shovel in the dark, because it sounded like a poetic thing to do; if not productive. But I didn't mind much, I realized long ago that poetry in general is not very productive.
So there I was, shoveling white snow off our pitch black driveway in the murky light of the evening. Any other day it would've been impossible to see, but somehow the snow kind of sparkled and muted everything else to a dark gray at the most. Still, vision was limited.
I started humming to myself to keep my mind off the cold and the work when all of a sudden the streetlights came on, illuminating everything. I realized, looking over the neighborhood, that a lot of other people were doing the same thing as I was. A whole army of driveway-shovelers, all of us humming our own music and all of us paying no attention to the cold or to the work or to anybody else. The snow continued to sparkle, despite our combined efforts to remove it.
And it was kind of poetic.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 8:29 PM
Finally, the promised day has arrived. A day full of wonder, joy, excitement, and pure laziness. All taking place at 5 in the morning.
Yes, a snow day is here.
I spent the morning lying around in my pajamas watching "Sweet Home Alabama".
I spent the afternoon lying around in my pajamas exploring the land of Amazonia.
I'm glad there's no rule stating that snow days must be full of productivity.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 2:49 PM
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
I decked somebody today.
It was accidental, of course. But nonetheless, perhaps I should explain.
I am one of the most non-violent people you could ever meet. I couldn't even be violent if I wanted to be, at least not successfully. My arms are sticks. My legs are sticks. My torso is a stick. I have no room for muscle tissue. My playing volleyball is no mistake- no muscle required, just speed and timing.
However, I really don't feel the need to be violent. I'm one of those quiet, shy, wishy-washy emotional types in person. I'd much rather use my words to deal, but I'd probably end up stuttering anyway. My face can get red at the slightest mention of...well, almost anything. I'm not about to take it outside with anybody. I'll just agree with them for the time being, crossing my fingers and my heart.
I go to what most would call a preppy school, but there's still a large section of kids that come from a bad sort of family life. You call 'em trailer trash, we call 'em ghetto...but they're not really either, they're just impoverished white kids trying to be the biggest, baddest, phattest thing around. And so fights in my school are not a surprising occurence. They're part of life, just not a part of life that I take part of.
And so I'm sitting, talking with one of my "preppy" friends, talking about some movie. And then, there I go, I punch her, right on the bridge of her nose. Speed and timing. I hear something crack and her face gets all red and she runs into the bathroom.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 9:11 PM
Does no one find the irony in a peer saying, "When I grow up, I want to be one of those people that helps retarded people not to drool because I am very kind and understanding."??
Of course, then there's The Tard Blog.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 6:37 PM
Monday, March 03, 2003
I could be at the Coldplay concert right now, but I'm not.
I could post some of their lyrics here and feel sorry for myself, but I'm won't.
I could do some of my homework, like actually start on this play I'm supposed to be writing, but I can't.
Now that we have that all established, it was a pretty good day.
Tomorrow, however, will be hell.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 7:14 PM
Sunday, March 02, 2003
I had a dream last night that I was running around in the snow in a miniskirt and high heels and I kept falling but I never got cold. And then I went skiing. And then I went to the beach.
And this all made perfect sense.
It was one of those mornings where you are all too happy to wake up.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:01 PM