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Bleh Part…too many to count at this point. March 31, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in annoyances, I know life isn't supposed to be fair but jeez..., work.
4 comments

The weekend was basically a big onslaught of suck starting from just before I left work on Friday.  My boss handed me my paycheck and then informed me that I would no longer be able to come in before 8:30 am, and also, by-the-way style, he may need to cut hours again soon, but he’s “not sure yet.”

*sigh*

This made me angry for several reasons.  One, I do not have benefits at this job.  I don’t have any kind of insurance, I don’t have vacation time, sick time, and the pay is pretty mediocre considering I know the how this office runs like the back of my hand and KEEP IT RUNNING pretty thanklessly.  The only perk this job has offered is a flexible schedule, so for my boss to take it away and sort of shrug and obviously not really care one way or another that this will fuck with my schedule and paycheck really pissed me off.  Nonchalantly mentioning that he may need to cut hours after he JUST CUT THEM a few months back made me positively seethe with anger.

So, I am officially looking for a new job.  I found one this morning that could be awesome (double the pay, no traffic, 7:30-4, benefits) so I’m polishing up my resume tonight.  It’s going to be weird working somewhere else, but frankly I need a job that will be reliable, and considering the last time my boss pulled this I got basically a weekends notice, I can’t count on it not happening again.  I really hope I get this job.  Wish me luck!

I worked on Saturday then went to get my every-two-weeks-like-clock-work manicure.  I decided to go to a place that charges a little less than the place I usually go, and found out the hard way (which is apparently the only way I learn) why those places charge less.  I don’t know if the woman thought I would be impressed with how quickly (read: rushed) she worked, or how she barely glanced at my hands, but instead chose to talk to her coworkers or see who was coming in.  I don’t know if she cared for repeat customers, or if she just wanted to get to her lunch.  Because she filed my nails so hard that she made three of my cuticles bleed, and the proceeded to get ANNOYED that the BLOOD WOULDN’T STOP.  At one point I pulled my hands back, cocked my head, and very calmly said “can you please be a little more gentle?”  She gave me a terse “sorry” and continued to attack my hands.  After she was done she just got up and walked over to one of her coworkers and started eating.  Didn’t tell me where to go to dry my nails.  I figured it out after scanning the place and left shortly after.

I paid the cashier and started to walk away, and she actually had the nerve to say “no tip?”  I looked her right in the eye, held up my hand to show her the blood that was STILL working its way out of my poor fingers and said “um, here’s a tip: don’t make your customers bleed!” and flounced away.

I scrubbed the shit out of my hands with peroxide (which felt WONDERFUL, let me tell you) and put neosporin on after I got home, thought I will admit I briefly entertained how satisfying it would be to sue the bajeesus out of those people for their shoddy work resulting in an infection.  It’d be two birds with one stone; watch a shitty company go out of business and FINALLY get a perk from my job (free legal service.)

Hope you had a better weekend.

Back your stuff up. March 24, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in annoyances, realizations.
8 comments

Sometimes I’m convinced that my purpose in life is to serve as a bad example. Like, “Oh look, there’s Sparkel. Let’s all see what she does and then take rigorous notes titled ‘This is how NOT to live!'”

The Geek Squad called this morning to let me know that my hard drive is shot, so I’m going to need a new one. Not only will this rip a good $300 from my already-recently-depleted (thanks to hella expensive text books) bank account, but because I am a procrastinating idiot?

A good THOUSAND pictures (from the beginning of my relationship with M, of friends, of my (albeit few) trips) that don’t exist anywhere else? Gone.

Approximately 2,000 songs and videos that took three years to (both legally and illegally) download? Gone.

A couple dozen short stories that I just never found the time to print or save to a disc? Gone.

Tons…and TONS…of bookmarked sites and school papers and funny pictures or images I liked over the years? Gone.

I don’t know whether to weep or ram my head into a wall for being such an idiot. Everyone tells you to back up! It’s the most basic computer tip there is!

So, my beloved friends…do yourself a favor (if you don’t already. Apparently EVERYONE I KNOW does, and can only shake their head in awe that I haven’t done this at least once in the three years since I bought my computer) and back your stuff up.

Or, you know…don’t drop your computer. If you do either you’ll be ten times smarter than me. (You: “Um, yeah, like that’s HARD!” Me: *still just opening and closing my mouth to sputter every now and again.*)

This BLOOOOOOOWS.

Good Things Come in Fours March 20, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in meee, meme.
5 comments

I’ve been tagged!

Four films I’d watch again (in no particular order)

1.  The Notebook
2.  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
3.  Beauty and the Beast
4. Atonement

Four placed I’ve lived

1. Tucson, Arizona
2. Auburn, Alabama
3. Maryland
4. Newton, Massachusetts (for a summer)

Four tv shows I watch

1. The Office
2. Friday Night Lights
3. The Hills
4. Arrested Development (on DVD)

Four Things to Eat

1. Honey glazed chicken
2. Nerds
3. Reeses
4. Cupcakes

Four Places I’d Rather Be

1. Considering I’m at work, ANYWHERE
2. Italy
3. Aruba
4. In bed

Four People to Tag

1. Jess
2. Brandy
3. Nicole
4. La

Do YOU wanna talk about No Country For Old Men? March 19, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in books & movies & shows, I kinda love my life, meee.
4 comments

I haven’t really posted for a while. Mostly because when I open the “write post” tab, I have a tendency to sit, tapping the keyboard while I wait for inspiration to just strike like lightning. When it didn’t I felt disappointed or bored and went onto more exciting things, like reading other blogs or some of my favorite sites.

Then I decided something. I said to myself “Self, why not read those books that have been piling up for months? Why not clean your room? Your car? Watch some movies? Write some reviews? Write some short stories!” What the heck am I waiting for? So, I started my revamp by reading every day. My usual schedule is to work from 7 until 3 or 4, then come home and lay around watching TV for an hour or so until I pick up M from the metro. Now, I read pretty quickly. I could finish a decent number of pages in an hour or so. So I’d come home and instead of turning on my TV I’d go straight to my “reading chair.” I read Stephen King’s On Writing, The Time Traveler’s Wife (again), Birdsong, What is the What, Atonement (again), The Other Boleyn Girl, Like Life, and I just started On My Own Two Feet (mostly because I’m getting a very decent tax return and I need to think smart this time.) I also decided to watch more films, and courtesy of Netflix and a wonderful site that has tons of movies for FREE (always key), I have watched more movies than I can remember lately.

The one that stuck out is No Country for Old Men. Suuuuch a good movie. It hits you like a gentle tap on the shoulder 20 minutes after the credits roll and you’re initially all “wait, that’s it??” Which I gotta be honest, I was not expecting. I don’t usually do well with violence, and from the previews I was all “this movie is gonna mind-fuck me hard.” But I liked it. A lot. And while I love M dearly, he’s not exactly um…fond of discussing books and film in depth. So I’ve been all “do YOU wanna talk about NCFOM?” to everyone. Unfortunately not too many of my nearest and dearest have seen it. I’m dying here people! So, I ask (or, you know, beg): do you wanna talk about No Country For Old Men?

So, thanks to these books and movies, I feel immensely more brilliant. Also, grateful for my sudden need to break from technology (well, some technology) because on Saturday I dropped my laptop, so it’s with the Geek Squad for the next two weeks. It’s been rough, but not as rough as it could have been.

Lastly I ask you; what books or movies have you read or watched lately that you’ve enjoyed?

If I were… March 18, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in meee, survey.
1 comment so far

If I Were …
A month: May
A day of the week: Thursday
A planet: Neptune
A direction: Up
A piece of furniture: bookshelf
A historical figure: I kinda just want to be Natalie Portman
A tree: The Giving Tree
A bird: Owl
A tool: Hammer
A kind of weather: Sunny and warm
A mythical creature: Mermaid
A musical instrument: harp
An animal: bird
A flower: Soaring Spirit Rose or Stargazer Lily
A color: baby pink
A sound: laughter
An element: silver
A song: “Sweet Avenue” by Jets to Brazil
A movie: Beauty and the Beast, if only for the library
A book: The Time Traveler’s Wife
A food: sweetart
A place: Heaven
A material: satin
A taste: sweet
A scent: lavendar/vanilla
A religion: all you need is love
A word: quirky
An object: book
A body part: helping hand
A facial expression: grin
A Time of Day: twilight

Thank you March 12, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in friends.
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I want to thank the wonderful commenter’s on the last post.  It wasn’t difficult to get all of that out (it was actually VERY cathartic), but it was really hard to put it out there.  Thank you for relating and letting me know I’m not alone in feeling alone, and thank you for the advice.  It meant more than I can say 😀

More later today…my job has been sucking the life out of me lately.

Cancel my subscription, I’m over my issues. March 5, 2008

Posted by Sparkel in I really don't know life at all, realizations.
9 comments

I had a long talk with my sister the other night about our parents, our childhood, and the resulting problems we both have.

I remember being a happy kid. I remember my parents as loving, and not really wanting for anything as far as toys or fun experiences. I remember having fun, having friends, making up stories, liking myself.

My sister for some reason does not really remember any of this. The conversations we have usually end in an argument because she gets mad at me for forgiving the bad and I get mad at her for forgetting the good.

I can remember when the fighting started. Well, maybe not when it started, but I can remember when it became noticeable. I was twelve. My parents always drank but in those years they used it as an escape. They would fight and scream at each other every night. My mom was the worst. She became unrecognizable, saying horrible things to my dad and to us.

I remember my dad taking my sister and I to visit my grandmother, and he was carefully choosing his words to explain exactly what was happening between him and my mom. I asked “do you still love mom?” thinking that the answer was obvious, the question was unnecessary, the sudden need for reassurance was useless.

He hesitated. I felt my breath catch in my throat. He looked me right in the eye and slowly shook his head, “no.”

I looked at my sister, whose eyes were brimming with tears. I quickly turned to stare out the window, blinking my own back.

That was not the answer I was expecting. That answer contradicted everything I thought I knew about my parents relationship; changed everything I thought I wanted for my own.

My dad said “I’m sorry” with a shrug in his voice.

The fighting got worse. Everyone changed and seemed to lose a part of themselves.

I always thought that I became strong. I became determined to be the glue, the confidante, the savior. My logic and knack for knowing what to say to make people listen and want to change would prevail. My heart and tenacity would save my family.

And keep our house a home.

My dad has always either laughed or scolded me (when it worked against him) when he says that I always root for the underdog. If I see someone being picked on or in pain I never hesitate to rush over and try to fix things and help with everything I have. “When your brother or sister would get spankings you cried ten times harder than they did!”

I try to see the good in people. I try to remind people of the good they have in them. I try to see situations in the best light possible. I try to see my blame in things. I think I do a pretty good job of staying level-headed and being positive for the most part.

My sister said that she feels sorry for my mom because of the guilt she must feel for the fact that she let her uncle stay at our house with my aunt because my mom never had the heart to tell her that he molested her and her sister when they were kids. And that as a result, he molested me.

I’ve never felt any real effects of it in my day to day life or in relationships. I’ve never had any qualms about talking about it. I was three years old; what could I possibly have done to deserve it, or to feel any shame? I honestly don’t give it very much thought at all.

Which is why I surprised my sister and myself by having some kind of breakdown when she said she felt sorry for my mom. I angrily said “I don’t feel sorry for her at all. She put the feelings of her aunt before the possibility that the same thing could happen to her own daughter.” And then I just cried like a baby. Cried to the point where I couldn’t breathe. I just sort of melted into the floor and stayed there for a long time, sobbing and hiccupping and trying to vocalize what exactly was wrong.

My sister kept pleading “tell me what’s wrong.” All I could get out was “I just want to stop being second. I just want to be first to someone.”

My mind was racing and I kept remembering things.

I thought about always feeling left out as the middle child. Always getting second or third of everything because I didn’t require as much attention as my siblings. I thought about feeling happy for them for everything they’ve ever had and such despair over every bad thing that they’ve ever gone through. I remember wanting to take their pain and make it mine.

I thought about being best friends with twins in kindergarten, and always being reminded that I was their “second best friend.” I remember how much it hurt, even if I never admitted it out loud.

I remember having my first best friend, where it was reciprocated, and I remember the day when she told me that I couldn’t be her best friend anymore because she was closer to another girl. I remember making a fool of myself that day in school by crying in front of the whole class and insisting it was because I had a headache. I remember my now-former best friend and her new best friend looking at me like I was a freak. I remember just wanting to disappear forever.

I remember moving to Maryland when I was 12, and starting 7th grade as a new kid. The middle school was 6th-7th grade, and everyone knew each other for years and already had groups and friendships formed. I remember making friends, but everyone already had a best friend. I remember feeling left out until I graduated high school.

I remember when my best friend had a baby and was trying to choose the godmother. And I remember listening as she said it was between two friends she had long before we met. I remember her not even mentioning me for consideration until I suggested she make both her friends godmothers and then she called the next day to ask me if I wanted to be one too. I remember feeling hurt and insulted and wanting to say no, that if I wasn’t good enough to be considered for the only pick, I wasn’t going to be anyone’s second runner up. I remember feeling a terrible pang, almost like a punch in the stomach, when a little voice inside my head pointed out that that’s all I’ve ever been.

I remember when my mom told me she wanted to pay off my car because she was proud of me for working so hard. I remember feeling happy that even though I insisted that she didn’t she still wanted to. And I remember when she told me that she realized that after paying for my sisters car she just couldn’t afford both. That she hoped I understood. And then I remember my dad telling me a week later that she paid off my brothers car the previous day. I remember feeling like I was slapped.

I remember when my sister replaced me with her first boyfriend. I remember when she stayed at his house every night. I remember when she called him her “best friend”, “the person she loves most,” “the most important person in her life.” I remember feeling replaced and like it was never real, only seemed real when I was all she really knew as a child.

I remember when the problems with M’s family began. I remember waiting for him to defend me. I remember asking him to defend me. I remember him saying no, then “you know what your problem is? You just don’t get over things fast enough.” I remember when I realized that I would always come after his mom and sister. I remember feeling hurt and disconsolate every time I saw them. I remember when I welcomed the next phase, pure numbness, which always seemed like the saddest way to be, but felt so good because it didn’t hurt anymore.

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel alone. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t wistfully hope to be someone’s best, number one, first priority. My sister insisted that I’m her number one and I bitterly laughed and said “don’t lie to me. I’m so tired of everyone lying to me. I’m so tired of everyone. I’m so tired…” and then apparently passed out from the exhaustion that comes with crying your heart out for hours. The next thing I saw was M, bent over with his head on the floor next to mine. I’m assuming my sister said something to him, because he just said “you’re my number one.”

I sighed and silently focused on him for a minute. If I had any tears left I’m sure they would have come as I said “I just don’t get it. I just want to feel loved. I’m tired of trying to save everyone. Why doesn’t anyone save me?”

M does not cry. He is stoic, calm, and usually not emotional at all. Which is why I was touched when his eyes filled with tears. He cupped my cheeks with his hands and kissed my forehead. I started to get up before he could say anything and said “lets go to bed.”

I’m not sure how I feel. I don’t blame anyone. I don’t feel anger toward anyone. I don’t even really blame my mom for what she did.

I just…wish…and hope…and hurt. So much.

I really hope I can save myself. Cause I don’t want to be issue-ridden and dramatic. I just don’t want to feel so alone.