Picnics and the prolonged summer

So, we had a picnic/potluck thing at work yesterday. And by "we", I mean the city, but because we share the building and deal with many of the same annoying "problem patrons" they invited us. Contingent on us bringing desert.

BestBossEVER! was in charge of herding. Us, I mean, not the cattle for the hamburgers. His boss literally told him to make sure that we all went and mingled for at least a short period of time. Crazy.

In other news, I would give anything to start classes. Seriously. I love that my summer is super long this year. I would love it a lot more if someone else, anyone really, also had a teansie bit of free time to be my friend. Boo.

I have taken to teaching myself more French, which I am relatively certain I am physically harming through mispronunciation. C'est vrai!

In other news, I have now been dragged along to look at 7 different cars that have had some sort of tragic malfunction, preventing my father from allowing me to buy any of the aforementioned vehicles. Seriously, kids, standards, visibly lowering. Just want something that goes vroom vroom faster than my 10 speed.

Whee!

Whee!

Oh, Google, how you make my life easier. You fix problems that I didn't even know I had.

First, you logically grouped my email with the responses...no more going back and forth between the sent and in boxes.

Then, you've always educated us with your fun Starry night theme and your ubermenche Olympic themes.

Then, for global awareness of the hour long lights out by blackening their background (which doesn't actually save energy, or they'd do it all the time)

Now! Now! Google maps has pictures of the actual road! Look!

Yay for showing me what you mean by "slight right."
Boo for enabling stalkers by showing them the street in front of my house.

Hulk. Smash.

So, after my melodramatic post of melodrama, Monoca quickly smacked me in the face (figuratively, of course) and then graciously bestowed her further friendship upon me.

Yes, I will be alright. I will also figure things out...theoretically.

But! In far more important news, dear readers, I finally saw the Incredible Hulk--the one that came out earlier this summer with Edward Norton of hotness...not that crappy crap one with Eric Bana--and it was, well, incredible. I kind of want to see it again. Preferably without being shushed for laughing at the cameos and jokes that no one else seemed to understand.

Why is it that whenever I go to see a movie with Monoca, we end up being the only beings with a pulse inside of the large room holding what is supposedly a receptive and *willing* audience?

Oh well. Off to bed with me.

Oh, and boys are stupid.

I am fallen

Friends, I am dying. Inside. Figuratively, but it still holds true.

I have to live with my parents until I finish graduate school. Why? you might ask. Well, apparently grad school of choice is very concerned with the health and well being of their students. So much so that, even though I am an adult capable of making my own choices, and that I am an online student and that I am a graduate student, I still fall prey to their silly, stupid paranoia of the plague. All students, yes, read A-L-L. All students must not only have health insurance, but said health insurance must also meet ridonkulous criterion. If you do not have said health insurance with said crazy-high standards, you must enroll in the college's student health plan, which costs THE SAME of what I am paying ON SCHOLARSHIP for an entire term. I cannot help, as of late, but to constantly return to the conclusion that I should not have gone to Australia.

So what does this mean, dear readers? That even if I were to move out and opt into realjob's health insurance, it would not meet the crazy high standards. Argal, I must stay on my parents' insurance. My father is so repugnantly honest that he TOLD them that I was graduating. They were just going to leave it until January to redetermine dependent eligibility, but he HR that I was graduating this past May so that they might take me off of the company's dollar. Argal, dear readers, the only way that my darling will maintain my presence on his insurance is for me to truly be a dependent. Argal, I must either a) live at home until I graduate because superfungradschool actually CHECKS, or b) move out and take classes on-campus, not online. If only it were not to late to modify my enrollment status.

Fuck.

There is no hope for my life's future. I am going to be trapped here forever while everyone else has the adventures of which I have been dreaming. Damn my pride. Damn my conscience. Damn my devotion to those who have grown to need me. Damn my inability to do what is best for my own well-being if it means disappointing them. Damn my desolate existence.

The North Woods!

This blog is coming to you from the North Woods! Well, kind of. I am writing it on my laptop, but there is no internet, as I am in the wilderness, so I will post it when I return on Sunday…I think.

Mon favorite taunt, por sa anniversarie, desired coming up to the cabin that she and her husband share in the Grayling area. So, here I am, like any good Godchild, along with not-so-straight-cousin, who is my fave! Though not the child of the aunt and uncle of this same adventure.

Everything is great. We eat healthily, and enjoy the north woods. Ma taunt has m.s., but no worries, she has the good kind and only suffers minor numbness de temps en temps. It’s nothing so serious as the President that the World needs! Not yet, at least.

In any event, two eventful things have befallen that are not birthday related, though she did have a good, fun birthday, and we are ensuring a good, fun birthday weekend.

They own two cabins on adjacent parcels of land, both on the bend of the creek, which feeds into the Au Sable river, so if I didn’t know any better, I would think that they had a lot of land and decided to build a second cabin on it. They rent out the green cabin, and as such, it is currently occupied with a boys’ weekend. This is fine. We were sure to go Kayaking before the boys got up on Friday, and I am far beyond my years of being unable to share. The problem, dear readers, comes into play when the guy who knows my aunt and uncle stars to hit on me. A lot. I’m not just being a silly 21 year old who is in the presence of a friendly 30-something year old man. No. He genuinely wants to get into my pants. I am at a loss! Overprotective uncle actually went over there after a super awkward encounter to plant the seed of “She doesn’t want you, and even if she did, it would not be happening on my property.” Yay!

In happier adventures of my life, Overprotective uncle and I went midnight kayaking last night! It was a beautiful full moon. On the creek that runs a bend around their property, there are two practical, doable paths. The first begins at the cabin and winds about until the creek pours out into the larger, slower Au Sable, past the whirlpool, and up to the boat launch/pick up. The second begins at a bridge and winds around until the traveler hits the dock at the cabins. Overprotective uncle and I took the latter path in the moon light. While I brought a flashlight along in case of an emergency, I am very pleased--and frankly shocked--to report that I did not use the flashlight once during the journey. And we must take this time to pause and explain what I mean by creek.

The widest part of the water flow is about 15 feet, the narrowest scrunching to around 6. The Kayak is about 2 feet, if that, so minimal worries. The reason for the change in width of the river? Fallen trees. There have always been felled trees and branches in the river bed, and the depth clearly changes based on like…rocks, and undergrowth and such. This past fall, in the Grayling area, a tornado touched ground and decimated the area near the Au Sable. The passage has changed, getting narrower and more challenging. While the DNR has gone through in order to clean-up the debris and make the creek passable, they have bigger fish to fry. Did you know that their small allotment of officers is meant to cover the entire county? Yea…they have a lot of work to do.

In any event, kayaking on the creek is challenging in the daylight. I typically wind up in the pucker brush, mildly scraping the kayak and avoiding branches to the face. I have NEVER, however, biffed it and tipped the kayak. I have always maintained the perfect mixture of prudence, skill, reflexes, and pure dumb luck required to stay afloat, dry, and inside of my kayak until I reach my final destination. In the moonlight journey, while there were glorious stretches where the river captured the light of the moon through the trees and, turning around to see the glory of it all, I was nearly blinded, there were also stretches where the trees blocked the moon from our view; its light could not shine to aid us in our journey. As luck would have it, these were the difficult parts where many obstacles lay closely together.

Imagine my shock at providence, then, when I made the entire 45 minute moonlight journey without hitting a single patch of pucker, without spinning around and maneuvering wildly to save myself, or even bumping against something that would ding the kayak. It was the perfect journey. I made it through entirely unscathed, all by the light of the moon.

This was a very spiritual, moving journey for me as well.

Yay!

Family Shenanigans

My grandfather has finally realized that he is old. At 78, many of his high school companions (he lives in the same small town that he grew up in), friends and relatives have started to slowly but surely kick the bucket. Clearly, the best response to this epiphany is to have a family reunion!

On Saturday, we all gathered in a barn and chatted over various random foods and, of course, alcohol. I had to work on Saturday, so I didn't get there until around 6pm, at which point everyone else had been there for quite some time. This put me at a huge disadvantage in many, many ways. First, when I arrived my darling cousin Kenzi ran into the barn shouting for joy that I had arrived. Second, my parents when choosing which child to talk about, and aparently I am more fun to discuss. Third, everyone was quite happy at this point.

So into the barn I walk, and my greeting is: "At your library, do they have filters against porn?"

Uhh... well, juvenille internet is filtered, but I am unaware of any adult restirctions. I know that some does still get through, but it is not a huge problem at our location. Who are you?

Tall, slightly drunk but friendly relative replied, "The reason I ask is, I'm a county commissioner, and I have these evangelical pricks on me about it all the time, but an action to filter the internet would just open a bag of worms."

Oh, okay...who are you...

I didn't know ANYone, ANYONE that was outside of 2 degrees from me. I knew my grand parents, and my cousins. I did not know my grandparents' siblings, I did not know their siblings' children. But they all knew SO much about me...creepy.

And then my grandpa was all "Are you spending the night here?"

All smiles and innocence: "I sure am, Grandfather!"

"That's gerat! Do you want a beer?"

All smiles, less innocence: "Oh, no worries, I'm already on my third Kamakazi! Yay!"


To continue in the great tradition of family shenanigans that have engulfed the past few days, the prodigal son has returned. Much without warning, I might add. You think he could have called when they left California in their p.o.s. van, if only so that someone would know where they are...

Have I ever mentioned, dear friends, that it bothers me how he takes advantage of my parents. I am totally cool with him being in a band and following his dream and touring. Forget that he failed out of community college's vocal music program, forget that I think that their band effing sucks: it's not cool to leech off of your parents at the age of 24. Maybe I have high standards. Maybe it would bother me less if he, say, helped with the dishes, mowed the lawn, or even did his own laundry.

I have resigned myself to the fact that he will not: get a real job, further his education, spend his "allowance" wisely, or even do something productive with his life. Am I really asking that much? Really?

Perhaps it is a double standard. I am currently living at home. But I do chores, have a stable job, and am going to school...and I fully intend to move out once mono is ready.

*sigh*

In other news, Lola is officially devoid of hope. I am searching for a new, preferably shiny car. Whoa is me.

Webb is my HERO!

Library! in $nooty $uburb is having a talent show. Apparently, one of the acts is a very talented young pianist who intends to play a piece that requires all 88 keys of the piano. Dang.

So Miss Trish was all like..."Does anyone have a keyboard with 88 keys, because we need one and all we have is half of a keyboard..."

And then I called Webb, who used to be my choir teacher. He adored me. He still adores me, apparently, because he helped me push a full piano from his high school to the library across the street. I thought it was closer and smoother until we started pushing a piano.

This was, however, the highlight of my day! Not only did everyone look at us funny as we pushed this piano a good half mile, but I got to hang out with Mark, who makes me happy! Yay!

Along the way, he told me about how, allegidly, when there was a piano builder in town, they would dump bad pianos into the lake! Too cool!

Along the way, random lady on the sidewalk commented: "Oh! I gave my piano a walk just this morning!"

And then we took it into the library, into the elevator downstairs and then recieved magnanimous praise. Yay!

Don't worry, darling readers, I was sure to thank Mark profusely. Many times. Repeatedly.

And now all of co-workers think that I am crazy, but at least there is a piano for the talent show!

Mars: Our Future on the Red Planet

Thank You Robert M Powers, sole honorary member of the American Society of Aerospace Pilots, for writing this informational work to tell us how to make it not only to the great red planet, bu also how to survive this adventure.

Thank you Sally Jenks for discovering this classic work of literary prowess:

"The most serious problem of a pregnancy in space is radiation."

Apparently it's going to be a long flight...

"The female is the only one necessary, along with enough sperm from a genetically varied group of males so that the resulting batch can reproduce in the normal way without declining due to genetic faults."

That's right. All males will be left behind on Earth so that an Amazon-esque society of dominance may prevail.

"Mars is out there waiting. And the stars, too."

Good to know.

Boomerangs, Mondays, Bosses, and Cars

For those of you who didn't get the message, I was in Australia last month. It was amazing. Until we tried to leave. In Brisbane, I had to pay far more for shipping boomerangs and some food products than any human being should have to. But! They came last week! Yay!

So today, I gave BestbossEVER! his boomerang. He and $port immediately started devising uses for it.

"I'm gonna sit in my office and have throw the boomerang so that it hits $port in the back while he's cleaning out the book drop."

"You should leave it on your desk as a threat. A gun is one thing, but if you can use a boomerang...you're a master of the arts. No one is going to mess with you."

"I wanna go outside and use it, but knowing me, I'd lose it in the lake..."

"You should find a football field somewhere to practice throwing it."

"Like across the street..."

They took a lot of breaks together. Many times.

Mondays are always atrocious during the summer at real work. Heaps and heaps of people come in, the drop is nonstop, and it makes the staff a little crabby, which can make work generally suck. It doesn't help that it's Monday.

All of this added together makes manic Mondays feel crazy long. Seriously. Like, if you asked me about it, I would swear up and down that:
a) it's midweek
b) that Boomerang thing happened last week
c) I've been at work for 30 hours already this week.

Quite draining, really.

It also added to the day that I had my pdp today. BestbossEVER! talked about how awesome I am...to me, though...it was fun. Then we joked around until it was arguably time to just start gathering our stuff and leave. Well, at least for him.

Miss Michelle has been driving me to work on Mondays, as Lola, my beloved car, is in the longest surgery ever. It is nice to not have to ride the bus, which takes an hour and a half instead of the 20-30 minutes of the lovely car ride. She's kind of a workaholic. If I hadn't walked into her office to tell her that I was good to go whenever, that I'd just be busying myself in the back room, her response was "Oh! I am glad you said something! otherwise I would have just worked for a long time until my stomach was like 'I am hungry! Why aren't you filling me' And then I would go home at 7 and it would not be as much fun."

She's fun to ride with. Very happy, honest, and talkative.

But alas, poor Lola. She needs her engine rebuilt. My dad is willing to put up the cash, so I'm cool with that idea. I hope, I pray, that I will have a car by the time my birthday rolls around.

First official blog post.

After many, many failed attempts, I am going to blog.

After this weekend, it has come crashing to my attention that all you can do is try to know who your friends are as you head off to the war. I have picked my star, and I am going to follow the light, but no one is coming with me. They are all going in their own directions.

We will all come back when it's over, so there is no need to say goodbye.

Staying connected, even artificially, will dull some of the poison pulsing through my veins.

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger, until they're before your eyes.

We had fun. Or at least we all attempted to keep on smiles and neglect complaints in order to make our last bit of precious time together a happy one.

...And then that Word grew louder and louder, until it was a Battle CRY!

Sunday held a great deal of promise for developing my future life. Rebuilding my faith community is proving to be less of a challenge, though I seem to be a constant disappointment. Much to the dismay of my new friends, I have no interest in youth ministry. I don't have the strength to subject myself to brutal testing and strife right now. My faith would certainly endure it, though my passion would not.

Boy seems indecisive, to be modest. I feel like a distraction and I don't want to be. Though his interest seems genuine enough, I would hate to deprive the wider Church of such great potential and heart for my own happiness. What to do...

Just because every thing's changing doesn't mean it's never been this way before.

I cannot help but feel orphaned, abandoned, alone. No word for this exists. I cannot do this alone, yet no one comes to my aid. Now I just sound silly, and I know it. I do not understand the problem myself, so how can I expect anyone to actually help me.

I hope BestBossEVER! is in tomorrow. That will make me feel loads better.

I'll come back when you call me. No need to say goodbye.