This blog is a collection of a young woman's random thoughts, many tangents, and occasional
short stories and novel excerpts. Stay tuned for plenty of bull and brief moments of brilliance.

Monday, July 9, 2012

Child Leashes, Amish Families.

Well, now that the title got your attention, hello from Union Station! I'm on my way home from Milwaukee after spending the holiday with my family. I hate that it takes aprox. 7 hours total to get back home to IC, but it's better than dealing with the fucking sketch Greyhound.

Also, my "I" key keeps sticking and it's pissing me off. For the past week it was my "R" key and I realized how few words I needed it for...and now am realizing how many have an "I" in them. Alright, let's try a sentence without incessantly pressing the button:

This is me tryng to type wthout hitting the i button more than like three times each. Missing a couple words here and there but not as bad as I originally anticipated. I hate my computer sometimes. Seriously.

Well, I didn't make my point there since my keyboard knows when it has to perform and only does then. Mother fucker. Anyways, my title isn't completely random; I did see an Amish (or cult...but I'm hoping Amish...) family on the escalator. There was an old man with a wife about 15 years old and four daughters. Then as I sat down to write this here, I saw a mother walking by, with her kid wearing one of those horrible harnesses.

The mother was wearing a face that said, "Stop fucking judging me, this is an evil demon chld. I have no shame treating my child like a dog."

You go, mom. Have a fun time explaining those odd pictures from Disney World when your kid looks more like Pluto than the drunken failed art student in the costume. I wonder do parents consider the cost of therapy with each action? Or are they assuming the kid will be grown by the time he realizes he's fucked up and thus will not have to pay? Well played, majority of parents, well played.

Megabus leaves in an hour and of course I find the one outlet that doesn't work, so my computer has about 30 min regardless of what the battery says. My computer says it has an hour remaining, BWAHAHA. Such lies from this device, such lies.

I'm dying to get back to Iowa City. I enjoy being able to be home for about two days before I go a bit insane. The twins are due in two or three weeks and that knowledge is frightening enough without the pandemonium that is a house with nine people in it when it should probably house five. Awe well, at least I don't live there on a daily basis.

I'm grateful Alex is coming over tonight even though he has to work early on Tuesday (as usual).  I sleep better with him there, and few things make me smile more than waking up wrapped in his arms.

Only three weeks until I move out of my apartment and into the house I'll be living in for the school year with four strangers. Summer has been going by quickly, but has been a sad eye opener to my soon-to-be future existence as insanely poor. I've lived poor before (poorer actually the last time) when in Ireland, but that was roughing it so I could study abroad...this is real life.

Family has begun asking when I'll apply for a "real job" and what I plan to do and where I'll live. If I thought it was bad last year, this one will be the fucking rapture. Everyone seems to expects me to know by September my five year plan and that's beyond impossible. I barely know what the next month will hold. Might as well keep going one day at a time and tune out everyone else with the sounds of typing.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Childhood Memories, The Happy Ones

I took Alex home with me this past weekend to see a Brewers game and visit my hometown. As I've said before, I'm not that fond of Whitefish Bay but do love Milwaukee very much so. While Alex and I wandered the streets of my suburb, I suddenly remembered a funny, happy memory. Here it is:
The Tree House
We walked past *Jacob Lee's house (not real name) and I saw his tree house. Now this tree house was the coolest fucking thing in the entire world. His dad was an architect and decided to spare no expense to make a cool house for a middle school-aged boy. The thick tree goes right through the middle of the house, which looks like a cottage for midgets. It's a light blue color and had electricity. Definitely the talk of Whitefish Bay Middle School when I was young.

When I was in 6th grade, Jacob had started handing out buttons that said: "I've been in Jacob Lee's Tree House." It took me a couple weeks to gather the sexual undertones of these small quarter sized pins. I envied the girls who had them on their jackets and book bags. I was a horribly awkward preteen girl and was definitely not invited to makeout with the gorgeous Jacob in his tree house (which is what people said happened up there).

A girl I knew offered to sell me one of her pins (she had three...middle school whore...) for five bucks and I of course jumped on the opportunity. Everything was fine for a week or two as I walked around the school feeling badass even though my lips had not touched a boy ever. Yet after a while my mom noticed the pin and I noticed shortly thereafter that it was missing. My mom confronted me, asking, essentially, what the fuck I was doing in Jacob's tree house. When I told my mom I had never been there, she asked why I had the pin then since mothers had figured out in the community what the pins meant. I said I bought it off a girl...and she told me that was really stupid.

Guess mom realized how lame I was going to be, even at the age of eleven. So yes, in 6th grade, I figured out it was better just to admit how inexperienced and awkward I was instead of going the "Easy A" route and pretending to be a preteen slutty fan-girl of the boy in a rock and roll band with the tree house.