Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Two Hands

Monday, June 15, 2009

This is Obsession

Why, yes, I did just become a fan of Peach Rings on Facebook. And, yes, that is what our society has come to. But, what can I say? I love me some Peach rings.

Hint, hint, my birthday is tomorrow. Buy me some Peach Os. It will make my day.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Weird Confessions #2

I know this probably seems weird, but I was just thinking and I realized something: Now that I am a high school graduate (throw your fist in the air, thank you), I can look back and say that I was never really sent to the principle's office. I mean, yeah, I went there to talk to him about class scheduling, FCA, and basketball stuff (I did stats and he was the coach), but I don't really have any cool "I was sent to the principle's office" stories. Now, granted, there was this time someone stole my purse (and maybe tried to frame someone else by putting in their locker or maybe they were the ones who stole it in the first place), and I had to explain to the principle way I thought to open her locker and magically find it (I knew she stole other people's stuff; believe me, it was not a situation that I would like to relive), but I don't have any cool stories. Now it is probably good that I was not a trouble maker, but if I were, I think I would have better stories. And if you know me, I am all for a good story.

Anyway, my point is, how are you living your life? Are you being the cookie cutter goody-two shoes or are you enjoying living your life to the fullest? Every day, getting good stories? Or every day, just getting by? We were called to live. Is that what you are doing?

Weird Confessions #1

I know this may sound weird, but I really like to match. We are going to ignore that fact that lately, no one has really seen me when I am not wearing scrubs and have my hair shoved back into a ponytail (I also hate having my hair in the ponytail, but that is a story for a different time) and so I really have gotten a chance to accessorize to the point where it makes me happy. Normally, however, I really do enjoy putting time into my appearance, mainly, my outfit. And no, not because I am trying to impress anyone (yes, one of the residents told me today that my "eyes are so pretty they must drive the guys crazy," so all I need are my eyes apparently), I really do enjoy being pretty just for me. But anyway, that is not my point. My point is that I really enjoying having things match. (And no, tan shirt, tan pants and tan socks isn't matching. Well, it might be matching, but even I know matching overkill.) I realized a while ago that the days when what I am wearing matches the toothbrush that I brush my teeth with makes for a really good day. So, I confess that when I have my own place (my mom won't let me be OCD under her roof), I secretly plan to have a toothbrush in a whole bunch of colors so that I can only brush my teeth with what matches the clothes I am wearing for the day.

I am weird and that is my confession.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Love is Still a Worthy Cause

Since I have no real time to write anything (I suppose I should learn to make time), I am going to give you some fiction. I wrote this for a class and granted it probably isn't very good. Maybe it doesn't even really make sense. Oh, well. I wrote it. It is a short story. There you go. (P.S. Yes, I did get the name of the main character from an Anberlin song. Deal with it.

Love is Still a Worthy Cause
by Andra Lauren

Adelaide sat down on the rusty bench. The bench had once been green, before the paint started to make a run for it. In this end of town, even the paint wanted to get away. She pushed her straight brown shoulder-length hair behind her ear as she tightly clutched a wrinkled piece of paper that was yellowed with time.

“Are you waiting for the bus?” asked an old man as he walked up to the bench. He was wearing a hat and carrying a newspaper. His gray slacks and matching gray vest made him look professional, but he looked well beyond retirement years.

“Hmm. Mmhmm,” mumbled Adelaide, her attention was clearly elsewhere. She wasn’t really waiting for the bus. She looked around until she noticed the old rusty sign. Behind the graffiti read, “Bus Stop.” She looked over to the man and saw his grey hair and wrinkled, but kind face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Adelaide smiled politely at the man as he said, “I’m waiting, too.”

“I’m Adelaide,” she said.

“Nice to meet you, I am Finn.”

Adelaide glanced at Finn’s newspaper. “Anything in the news?”

“The same old,” he replied, “War is still going on. More dying all the time.”

Adelaide glanced at the piece of paper in her hand. Then she remembered the last glance from the taxicab as her brother drove away. Her brother looked strong and brave as he left. He looked a lot different when he returned. Even with the peach blush they added to his cheeks, nothing could hide the pale whiteness in his face.

Finn could tell this wasn’t the conversation that she wanted to have. He knew that talking about the weather wouldn’t be enough to break the ice that surrounded them, even in the 80-degree weather.

Tears started to flow from her eyes, picking up speed as soon as the next tear came out of her eye. She quickly tried to brush the tears away. Adelaide looked away from the old man.

“Would you like to hear a joke, young lady?”

Her expression turned to surprise. Embarrassed that he must have seen her tears, she nodded.

“A guy goes to jail for robbing a bank. Since the police fear that he might try to plan an escape, they told him that he was not allowed to talk to the other inmates. That night, he hears some of the inmates shouting numbers. When someone shouted, ‘27!’ everyone started laughing. This guy didn’t understand what was going on, so the next day he got a chance to talk to another inmate. ‘What was going on? I heard people shouting numbers and laughing.’ The inmate replied, ‘Well, since we are not allowed to talk, we have assigned different jokes to different numbers. Whenever anyone says a number, we think of that joke and laugh.’ So, that night the guy shouts, ’48!’ No one responds. The next day, the guy talks to the inmate, ‘That was a funny joke! Sid told me the joke and now no one laughs. What happened?’ The inmate replies, ‘Well, some people just can’t tell a joke!’”

Adelaide laughed, “Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, my father told me that joke. He was a good man. Served in World War I and World War II. Good man.” Finn laughed, remembering the man that taught him how to fish and how to drive. He sighed, looked up to the sky and said, “One day, pretty soon, I will be able to see my father again.”

Adelaide looked up, confused. “How will you get to see him again, Finn?”

“Well, Miss, it won’t be long before I join my father in heaven.”

Adelaide stopped on the word heaven. She didn’t know much of heaven, but she was sure that she couldn’t be counting down the days until she got there, because she didn’t think she could count for that long. She looked at Finn and noticed his laugh lines. She could tell that Finn had lived a long, good life.

“That’s real nice,” she quietly said, thinking that she would never get a chance to see Finn in heaven, or anyone else.

Finn looked at her. “Don’t give up hope, child.”

“It’s not hard to recall what blew out the flame. It’s dark where I am, and I don’t think I should waste time hoping on something that won’t happen.”

“Adelaide, I can see that your heart is raw. But love is still a worthy cause. Love can be the touch that starts the thaw on any frozen heart. Why are you hiding?”

Adelaide looked down at her dusty shoes. She remembered the day of the funeral. It was raining and everyone’s black umbrella made everyone’s clothes look blacker. She couldn’t remember what the reverend had said that day. She just remembered feeling angry. She was angry at a god who would take away her brother before it was his time. She wanted to yell at a god who would leave her alone, without the older brother that she depended on. He was the older brother who had been there the day both their parents died in a car accident. He was all she had and it was all gone in a matter of minutes. A minute was all it took for the enemy’s bullet to pierce his chest.

Suddenly her fist clutched the piece of paper tighter. She had forgotten all about the piece of paper until now. The small piece of paper felt as heavy as a lead pipe dragging her down to her knees. She could hear her brother’s words screaming as if he were shouting from a public platform.

She broke down. She could feel Finn’s hand on her shoulder. The wind seemed to pick up just then, and it whistled her brother’s words until his words were reverberating off the walls surrounding her. Her brother was telling her then just as he told her in the last letter he wrote to her, “Don’t let your love grow cold. I will always love you. I pray that you always love Jesus."

Thursday, June 4, 2009

All the Live Long Day

So, I was working tonight and Dixie decided to come visit (but really, she just wanted to kill time) and so since it was in between Subiaco tray line and the main tray line, she sat on the floor and I sat with her. Then Leona came in the kitchen to tell Gloria that she wanted cereal for supper and she saw Dixie and me on the floor and she said, "Are you on strike?" I laughed. It was fun.

Basically all of my stories involve my nursing home residents because since 6:00 in the morning until 8:00 (with a three hour break where I ran errands and went to the high school to work on the yearbook in between), I have been at the nursing home.

I am not really all that tired, because there are a lot of people around me (and really, in the whole world) that work a lot harder than I do. I am sure there are a lot more people whose feet hurt a lot more than me. I guess that doesn't make me any less tired, it just means that I really shouldn't complain. I do, after all, enjoy working. I enjoy my old people. I will be honest, I enjoy making money, too.

Basically, I am too tired to really be coherent. The End.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Hustling While I Wait

I almost dropped an axe on my foot yesterday. And that basically sums up my life lately.

My mom and I did a bunch of financial filling out forms stuff yesterday. That is depressing in and of itself. It is not too happy to read "This is a loan. You will need to repay this loan" over and over again. It is even more not too happy knowing that even after accepting the loan for the maximum amount, I will still not be able to afford college. It is really quite depressing. No matter what I do, I am going to graduate college underneath a huge pile of debt. And I don't even have any rich relatives that are going to die. I don't even have any rich relatives. Even if I did, I don't think I would want them to die, but I hope you get what I mean. I am going to be a college graduate with a whole bunch of debt. To make matters worse, I am going into the ministry. Which means that I will be a college graduate with a whole bunch of debt that is going into a field that does not make a whole bunch of money. On the bright side, someone going into the ministry should be the one to know that if God wants you somewhere, He will provide the resources to make it happen.

Also, I have been looking at cars to hopefully buy a car, but that isn't any happier. In fact, it was quite honestly stressing me out. I have broken out in stress rashes on both of my arms. I drove a couple cars at one place and let me just say that I don't like people who work on commission. They pressure you too much and make you feel like you have to decide. Right away. Then we went to another place and the guy was nice. Mom explained to him that I got stressed before and he said, "if car shopping isn't fun, you are shopping at the wrong place." I drove a car there and it fit and I loved it. However, it isn't something I can afford, but if I could, I would have no trouble deciding. I would choose that car in a heartbeat. Of course, that wouldn't make my dad too happy, because if I choose anything that isn't a Ford, he isn't happy. Don't get me wrong, I am a hardcore Ford person, too, but that car felt way more comfortable than Ford Focuses that I have driven. Anyway, I am getting a stress rash. And that's not too attractive.

First off, I want to say that the next pay period I am scheduled for a lot of days and I wanted to be scheduled for a lot of days because I need the money. Of course, that doesn't mean that I don't know that I will be incredibly tired and worn out from working a lot. I work 13 days straight. Today I have a day off and I won't have another day off until my birthday, actually. The16th. It is funny because I didn't even ask for my birthday off, because I just figured I would have to work it anyway, but I still got my birthday off. I don't really care much about my birthday, so I would have been okay with it if I had to work on my birthday, but I suppose working on your 18th birthday isn't ideal.

At least that axe didn't actually hit my foot. Maybe that's a sign that everything will be alright.