I bid you pleasure and I bid you cheer, from a heathen and a pagan, on the side of the rebel Jesus…

-“The Rebel Jesus”, by Jackson Browne.


You probably didn’t expect me back quite so soon, since I tend to write an entry here about every two weeks. I don’t much like writing here unless I feel like I have something somewhat worthy of writing about. BS blog entries go in my Myspace or DeviantArt journals.

Well, today is Christmas, as you all know. My immediate family opened our presents on the morning of Christmas Eve, though. I did get some good stuff.

-Three sketchbooks in varying sizes.
-Duran Duran’s new cd, Red Carpet Massacre
-A 2 cd set by Led Zeppelin called ‘Early Days and Latter Days’.
-A South Park calendar
-The Best of Bowie 1980-1987 cd
-Labyrinth special edition dvd
-A dolphin air freshener for my car
-A $25 gift card to Casey’s (gas station).
-a Snowflake teddy.
-50 new crayola markers.
-Led Zeppelin tee shirt (which I wore today)

So, as you can see, a fantastic haul. I would have been happy with one or two of them, but our family is lucky enough to be able to afford to have these sorts of Christmases.

Today, we went to my aunt and uncle’s to celebrate with them, and my grandparents. Our grandparents don’t really know what we like, so they give my parents money, they get our gifts, and then Grandma wraps them and such… It’s better than them just giving us cash, I think… I got the cd “The Who:Then and Now”. I already have most of the tracks, but on the computer, and I’ve lost the like, 9 track Who hits cd that I had anyway, so it was a great gift. Came with a cd booklet, has some great pictures and some nifty info in it. I also got these colored gel pens, which I wanted for my artwork. And like, two bucks. From my aunt and uncle, I got 20 bucks.

Now, don’t get me wrong, cash is always great to get and I am truly thankful for it, but for years, my aunt and uncle have taken the easy way out with gifts, always getting us gift cards or cash. As I just said, I love getting money as much as the next guy, but sometimes, I want a gift a little more heartfelt than that. The giftcards were nice, but they were generic: a smaller, thoughtful gift can mean more than a larger, generic one. But, I am very grateful that I got anything, although a little more thought would have been nice.
So, the reason I’ve come to this blog as an outlet.

In about four days, I’ll be leaving for Vanessa’s house. I’ll be staying there until Friday or Saturday.

That brings me to my work situation. I need to call the temp agency tomorrow… I think I’m going to work one day.. My dad wants me to work three in a row, but my back can’t handle that. And anyway, I don’t see why I can’t just compensate later. I will see how far in advance I can make my schedule (If I can, I’m scheduling the entire month of January at once).
I have said this many times, but my regular work schedule will not be the lax one I’m having this week. I’ll work every other day, even weekends. I can compensate for New Years week in the weeks after… I just can’t get my dad to see this. I know, I need to earn money, and I need to save up money, and I know this.

As it is, for the trip to Vanessa’s, I have my first, $35 check, the $25 Casey’s (gas station) gift card, a $20 Wal-Mart gift card, $20 from my aunt, and $2 from grandma. That’s One Hundred and Two dollars. I don’t know if my parents are putting any gas in my car, they don’t need to since I’ve  barely driven anywhere except work, and it had half a tank last time I looked. So, I can use 50 bucks on gas (I don’t need to drive anywhere except to Ames and back, with only a couple minor places in Ames), so I won’t use up all that much gas. The fifty two dollars left should be more than enough to get myself some alcohol, and some food to bring, as well as stocking up on some things at one of the Asian food stores in Ames.

So, in a way, I won’t be lent any money for this. This being the case, I don’t really see why dad would be angry if I only work one day this week, and start on the every other day thing  the week of January 6th. In all actuality, I wasn’t going to work at all this week, but I thought that would be a bit wrong (and it is).

I have no idea why my stomach is in knots, it might have been all the holiday food I ate. I’m feeling apprehensive for some reason… For working at Kraft through the temp agency, people make their own schedules, for when they can work. You can either pick locked in hours, or make your schedule every week, I picked the latter.

Because of this, they don’t expect me in on a regular basis. I don’t see why me not working for a week would affect how they see me. If I tell them I am going to be out of town for a week, but commit to a month’s worth of hours, I think that looks pretty damn good. So, I work one day this week… They have been just fine without me, I don’t think one more week wil break the camel’s back.

My dad seems convinced that they will absolutely hate me unless I work three grueling days in a row this week.

My laziness is not a factor, TRUTH is the factor, and the truth is my back simply will not be able to handle that. I am trying to ease into this job. I told the temp agency this, and they understand. My back hasn’t been quite the same since I hurt it during the summer working at Heartland Inn. For that reason, I am trying to be careful in easing into this job.

I know, loading jello cups into boxes for six hours doesn’t sound all that taxing, but considering you have to stand all day and bend over constantly… After six hours of being on your feet and constantly straining your back… You can be in a bit of pain afterwards.

Last time I tried to overdo it at work, I hurt myself.. Summer at Heartland Inn. I was working so hard, and I guess I just overdid it a bit. The doctor said it was back strain. I had to miss one week of work, and I was in such horrible pain, I was begging my parents to either call emergency, or to shoot me. No joke.

I’m sorry, but I don’t want this to happen again. I don’t want to work more than I know I am able at the moment, and have something like that happen. Then dad would be really pissed. Because this time, if I hurt my back, it could be worse. And then I might have to miss several weeks of work, not to mention the cost of the doctor visit and any meds I might need. I have no health insurance, since I’m not a full time college student, so in working one day this week, and then instituting the every other day thing, I am not being lazy or trying to defy my parents yet again, I am acting in my best welfare.

Being lazy for so long, it’s difficult to convince my parents I am doing otherwise, but I really am.  I can understand where my dad might be a little unsettled about me working one day this week, but…

Ahh. It’s just… I really hate how I seem unable to convince him that I’m acting in my best interests here.

I mean, hell, once my body gets used to this job, the every other day thing can go bye bye, and I could work five days a week. I can save up bunches of money, and I will be responsible…. I know I can. This time is different. I know I can do this. It’s just….

There comes a point in one’s life where they must do what is right for them, despite catching flack from their elders. I know what I’m doing is right, even though it’s not what my dad wants. He seems to think I’m just not listening to his advice like I’ve done before, but this isn’t the case.  I really did hear his advice, but… I honestly do think the plan that I have is going to work. Work a day this week, then commit to a month’s worth of work.

I just need to quit worrying about it, every thing will turn out alright in the end, and I know it.

I’ll take the crap I’ll surely get from dad about only scheduling one day this week.

And.. about spending a week with Vanessa… She is like my sister, she’s my best friend in the world, and the week of New Years is more than likely the last time I will see her until the summer. For someone who is like a sibling to you, this does not seem like a whole lot.

If I had to borrow a bunch of money from my folks for this, then I’d understand I should work more days this week than just one, but as of right now, I have my entire trip paid for. I’m not costing my parents any extra to take this trip. I’m not borrowing anything from my parents. It is not costing them a dime.

What I have is my money. The check I’m using is only for one day, not for the three days last week that I worked. So that three days’ worth of money is still going to be saved. That’s $105 dollars that’s still going into my savings.

Now, I have to say this, because of the tripe I may get.

I am thankful for everything my parents are doing. I’ve been showing it more, too. Before I got this job, I was doing the dishes every day. In addition, I’d do any laundry I needed to (except mom’s, she hated me doing her laundry). I would make dinner, and tidy up the house, doing any chores I was given without complaint. I tell them how thankful and grateful I am a lot more than I used to. They deserve it, for fuck’s sake, I’m living in their house, under their roof. They feed me. “My car” is only the term because I’m almost exclusively the driver of it, the car doesn’t technically belong to me. They’ve done so much, they deserve me to be grateful.
Me scheduling only one day this week is not me saying, “Fuck off, I’ll do what I want.”, not at all. I don’t want it to sound that way. My dad might take it that way at first, but I know I can make him see that it is not like that at all.

Considering, I was originally not going to work at all this week, but changed my mind not only on dad’s behalf, but because that will be an extra thirty five bucks that I’ll be earning.

I hope this is understandable.

I’m going to work on some pictures I took today to hopefully distract from the uneasy feeling in my stomach (which, in all actuality, might just be indigestion, I have no idea).

It’s all right – I think we’re gonna make it, I think it might work out fine this time…

It’s all right – I think we’re gonna make
I think it might just work out

‘Cause it’s not too late for that – too late for me…”
-Christopher Cross, ‘Alright’.

This is going to be a long entry, but if you’re one of my regulars, you should be prepared for that by now.

Well, when we last left me (lol), I said I felt the need for a spirital journey, I had a choir concert coming up and kareoke finals to look forward to; and my first day at Kraft was still  yet to be.

I’m going to break up this entry into sections, hopefully this will make it easier for you all to navigate. ;D

I should update you on all of these things; not because I care that you read them,  but because I need to keep my mind occupied at the moment, and what better way to do that than write a blog.

Issue one. The spiritual journey hasn’t gone very far, to say the least, although I did spend a good chunk of time reading a ginormous wikipedia article.


Yeah. Um. I’m still not sure how I feel about my whole spiritual journey thing. It’s weird. I was almost apprehensive about looking this guy up for some reason. Why, was I afraid of something I might find, maybe something that might alter my current beliefs? To tell the truth, I kind of am. Who knows why. I’ll figure it out someday.


Anyway. Onward to issue deux (2, for the non French takers). The choir concert went fine. I  had a measly little like, six note solo in one of the songs, and I still had people from choir tell me they wished they could sing like that…. I need these sorts of comments because I’m the sort of person who will doubt themselves if not surrounded by constant reassurance. I guess my mind believes that if I quit hearing compliments on how I’m a good singer, people have stopped believing it. Considering what I’ve heard, I guess this isn’t the case. Still. I got a few pictures of a tree in the lobby area, that was fun.


Onward, trusty steed, to door number three. The infamous kareoke contest. It was on a Saturday I would much like to forget.
I must say. The evening began on a sour note, and didn’t get much better.
Once again, I got lost on my way to Belmond, and had actually driven all the way to Britt before I realized how off course I was. I finally got to the bar, and my voice was still a bit hoarse from screaming at the Trans Siberian Orchestra concert my family attended the previous Thursday. It seemed like every single soul in the bar was smoking cigarettes at the same time, which also did not help my voice.

I swear to god, with the exception of maybe three people (including myself), everybody and their dog did COUNTRY SONGS. Dreadful ones. Not even the 2% of country music that is suitable for human ears. Hideous story songs about some random girl getting over her podunk town heartache to find a real cowboy… Other than that, I’m not able to differentiate the subjects of these songs because all that tripe sounds much the same to me. Now, when I say I was one of if not THE best singer there, my ego is not enlarging itself: I’m going off what I heard from others, and what my friends told me. They said themselves they would be shocked if I wasn’t one of the five people who made it to finals.

After making us wait practically two eternities, they announce the finalists, and the only two in my memory that have not since fallen to anonymity are this guy who looks and sounds like Willie Nelson (except that he is always singing in a different key than the kareoke music), and this girl that one of my friends knew. Who sang a, what else, but country song. She had a somewhat pleasant voice, but, no offence, I didn’t think it was any better than mine, and her song certainly wasn’t better than mine.

I really hate how egotistical that sounds, but I’m telling the truth. Well, it’s my opinion anyway.

I left right after they announced the finalists, and I found myself, Jenny, and her sister Amanda weren’t included. I came home and had three giant glasses of chardonnay. I watched half of “Amazing Journey: the Story of The Who” and went to bed.


Part four (phew, this entry is going to be huuuge).
My first day at Kraft was… interesting. There was a guy being trained at the same time as me. We got a tour, and then she tried to put us on these machines that you have to load jello cups into. 
Well, you have to put these stacks of cups in rows on the machines, and when your box of cups is empty, you have to run down three stairs, run over to the stack of boxes, grab one, put it on  your machine, run back up the stairs, write down all the number info on the side of the box, open the box, rub sanitizer on your gloved hands, and start loading cups again. All fast enough so the machine doesn’t run out of cups and make a big mess.

Needless to say, I am not, have never been, and will never feel like I could do this job.  Even once I’d been at Kraft for months. I might be able to do the actual job, but when I feel rushed, I get super stressed, start panicking (no matter who tells me to calm down), and my mind temporarily goes blank. Which is what happened when she told me it was my turn. I had been kind of teary throughout the entire tour, but when she finally told me to try, I burst out bawling and had to be calmed down.

If that doesn’t scream ‘mentally retarded’ I don’t know what does. (By the way, don’t jump on my ass for using that word, retarded might not be widely used as a proper term anymore, but it is still a proper word with a proper meaning).

Anyway. She talked with me for a while, and put me on the lunchable line. There,  you put filled jello cups into boxes (the jello is still liquid at this point, ew). That’s it. Once you get the hang of it, it’s actually too easy. Gives your mind time to do other things. Such as:

{Yesterday at work, I figured this in my head. We grab four jello cups at a time and put them into the box (this takes about two seconds). Each box fits 100 jello cups. It takes roughly two minutes to fill a box, depending on how many cups come through. One shift equals six hours, minus a ten minute break, I fill about 175 boxes every day. Yesterday I had two breaks for some reason.}

Yeah. If the radio wasn’t going during the work day, I think my brain would melt.

That brings us to the real reason[s] I wanted to write this entry.


As you may know, I lost my liscense after the birthday party I went to at Jenny’s. I called her, and she told me she hadn’t found anything. I know for a fact that her house is the last place I had my liscense.

This left me without an ID, would get in hot water should I get pulled over while driving, and would leave me unable to get into bars, and buy alcohol. Which isn’t normally much of an issue, but I’m going to Vanessa’s on the 30th, and I’m staying for New Years. Considering we might do the countdown at a bar, and no bars in Ames will let you in without carding you, that would have proved to be a problem (plus, my chances of being pulled over in Ames are increased a bit) So. I had to procure my birth certificate, and social security card, which I did. I got my new ID before work yesterday, so that issue has been resolved.

And, about an hour ago, dad got the mail, and I got my first paycheck from working at Kraft. It’s only for one day, but I got $35. 56, which dad told me could be the money I take to Ames. He told me the car would be filled up with gas before I went, which, the only place I need to drive is to Vanessa’s and back, with the exception of going to the Asian food store less than two miles from her house.
I do realize how lucky I am (I thanked my dad about a million times, so don’t any of you go jumping down my throat). But, that should be enough money if I stick to one or two drinks at the bar, buy maybe one bottle of alcohol, and use the rest for food. I’ll be bringing some [food] of course, since Vanessa informed me they are a little low on food.

Well. This wraps up this entry. Stay tuned to this station! xD

Some will win, some will lose, some were born to sing the blues…

Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on…..Dont stop believin’…..

I have returned.

Today is barely half over, and it’s already been strange.

Lastnight, I believe it was, I was doing some random survey on Myspace, and in one of the questions, I said I felt the need to go on some sort of spiritual-ish journey. I know, these are strange words coming from the mouth of a staunch agnostic/anti bible bouncer.

While I was at the computer lastnight, I felt weird all of a sudden. I don’t remember if I’ve said this in here before, but sometimes, I can see silhouettes of people/animals that aren’t there. I see silhouettes peeking around the corner into this room, and I will occasionally see silhouettes of cats in my house. Usually, all I see is a silhouette, just the shape of something, no details whatsoever.

Well lastnight, I felt like someone else was in the room, and for a split second, I saw a whoosh of color. Usually, all I see are silhouettes, but I swear this one had some color to it. Weird.

Well anyway, today I was sitting at a table in the Activity Center at college, waiting for my class to start. One of my friends, Kyrie, randomly comes over to me, hands me one of those beaded bracelets (the ones that are supposed to have meanings, they were all the rage a few years ago.). She said it was a power bracelet, a like, good karma bracelet. I asked why she was giving to me, and she said it was because I needed it.


Anyway. We have a choir concert tonight at 7:30, but the choir has to be there at seven.
It’s going to be great. I’m seriously going to have so much fun.

And then, ba ba ba BUMMM, on Monday, I start working at Kraft. I’m going in from 1-6 or seven, I don’t remember which. Choir is over after today, so I can work like, every day, when they set up my schedule. Except Thursday. On Thursday, my family is going to see Trans Siberian Orchestra… That’ll be a great show…

And, next week after that, I could probably work Monday-Thursday. That Saturday is the kareoke finals, where I could win $1000. I’m going to call Jenny and ask if she’d mind if I came over on Friday night to hang out, maybe have a few drinks, and such. Then, there’d be the contest the next night. I’m not sure. I might not end up going until Saturday… I’ll have to talk to her and see.

And… I’m not sure how much I’ll work after that. Probably every day, or every other day. I don’t know why I wouldn’t be able to go every day, I’d have nothing to do at home but sit around on my ass in front of the computer/tv… Plus, working will get me money. And I need to save up some for my next visit to Vanessa’s.

Thank god for safety save. My internet crapped out on me while I was writing this entry.

Anyway. I guess you could say things are looking up just a bit, although I am still apprehensive about starting work at Kraft. I’m sure I’m just making mountains out of molehills….

Anyhoo, I suppose I should end the entry now.

When my fist clenches, crack it open, before I use it and lose my cool….

Well, that was lovely.

Today started off on a particularly shitty note.

Our driveway is like a sheet of ice, and when I went out to start my car, I discovered that my gas gauge read just a centimeter above E. I emailed my teacher and said I wasn’t coming because of the weather issues.

My father called me at like, 11, because that’s when his lunch break at work is, and he seemed fine with it. He would have gone, but it was my decision. And that was that. He said I had enough gas, but my gas guage was practically on E, and my car can take a bit to register how much gas you’ve actually used. I didn’t want to run out of gas halfway to school, in the middle of some huge, busy intersection, thank you very much.

I come to find that when he comes home, the world has it in for me today.

I asked my father how his day went. He said something about “I wish I could have stayed home all day.”

And then he completely exploded.

Did I think he’d be stupid enough to leave me with not enough gas, it insulted him, why did I always think I knew everything, blah blah blah.

It was the loudest and angriest I’ve ever heard him shout in my life.


You’d think I’d just hacked my brother in half with a meat cleaver the way I got screamed at.

I seem to remember saying if he ever screamed at me like that again, I would punch him. He asked, what was I going to do? And more that I don’t remember.

And I would punch him. He pulls that shit again, I’m going to fucking spontaneously combust. I don’t care if he hits me back. I just, don’t fucking care anymore. I do not have to take this bullshit. Not anymore.

Now, please, tell me what I did to warrant being screamed at.

My dad has a lot of back, neck, and nerve pain, and is on the sufficient meds to get by, but not even that pain warrants him screaming at me, when all I did was ask how his day went.

I don’t care how bad somebody’s day goes.
Sure, I’m grumpy after a bad day (or when I’m in extreme pain), but I’ve never done anything like that.
If you’d been there, you’d understand.

I’ve never heard somebody so angry in my entire life. I was seriously scared he was going to come at me.

And he wonders why I hate him.

He’s constantly bitching about how I think I know everything.

I do not. I’ve admitted this on a regular basis. I do not know everything. In the grand scheme of things, we’re all naive. I am no different than anybody else.

This does not mean, however, that my father is the omniscient master of all mankind. I cannot point this out to him, however, because he thinks I am full of shit. No matter how much he verbally denies it, his actions say otherwise.

He’s always preaching about respect, but he rarely, if ever shows me that same respect. I’ve tried to respect him because that’s what parents deserve, but I simply cannot do it.

I’m just so sick and fucking tired of this.

But.. that may soon change. The temp agency called me today, I can start working whenever. We will have my steel toed boots by Monday next week, so I consider Monday, December 11th 2007 when I begin saving up to move the fuck out of my house.

I cannot stand it anymore.
I am completely serious this time. With the exception of paying for gas, every cent I earn will be going straight to my savings account. I’m saving up to get the hell out of here.

Say what you will about how I’m an ungrateful little bitch, or whatever you smarmy old codgers usually say about my entries of this nature. Fuck off. I don’t care.

Nobody screams at me like that.

My brother asked why I let it get to me. Because. I just do.

I mean, I’ve been yelled at before, and I ‘forget’ it and everything goes on as normal.

No longer. The more I act like this doesn’t bother me, the worse it’s going to get.

So, no longer. No fucking longer. I will never forget the look on his face and the tone of his voice when he screamed at me.


Can you see the real me, can you?

Well, my mother dear gave me some very kind words this morning.


So, I’d just gotten up and gone to the bathroom. I came back in the living room to listen to the weather report on the radio, and it begins.

You really need to start exercising every day. You’re gaining weight. You waddle when you walk. You are 21 and already bigger than most people get in their lifetime. All the clothes we bought you don’t fit. I’d think you’d want to be young and pretty. Your face looks bigger, your butt looks bigger, your belly looks bigger…..

What the FUCK was that?

Coming from a 42 year old twat who is a size six and completely obsessed with eating like a fucking rabbit.

That’s a pretty heavy (no pun intended) thing to lay on somebody five minutes after they woke up.

I mean, for fuck’s sake, that’s not just something you go up to somebody and tell them. It’s nice to know that you can’t see the real me.

Don’t I want to be young and pretty? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Thank you mother dear, but ugliness does not melt away with weight! Coming from a person who has never been the picture of beauty herself? What right does she have asking me a question like that? It’ just rude.

My parents like to bitch to me about respect. How can I respect somebody who can’t even show me the same common courtesy?

Now I’m afraid to go eat breakfast, so I probably won’t.

And the other meals, I’m not sure how I’m going to feel about eating in front of her again. It’s not like I’m a rabid animal who inhales their food, but I’m not sure how I’m going to eat in front of her today.

Fine, fuck you. I just won’t eat. It’s what you want, isn’t it?