Archive | 2:48 PM

Ellen + vocab

2 Jan

I liked “Ellen.”  That is the first of Ellen Degeneres’ pastiche shows named after herself.  I thought Ellen Morgan’s sanguineattitude and observational humor was really likable and funny.  Ellen Morgan always had a very plastic personality on thespoof sit-com as she wanted everyone to like her.  Ellen Morgan had a habit of prattling when she got nervous–which was often.  Ellen’s tangential manner of verbose speech was one of the most enjoyable aspects of the show.  Like her real life counterpart, Ellen Morgan was winsome and people liked her right away.  Critics gave Season 2 and 3 much encomium and the medley, “Ellen” was successful as a show.  I started watching the show in fifth grade when my teacher mentioned themirth “Ellen” caused her.

No one knew it at first, but Ellen Degeneres was growing restive about her personal life and the direction of Ellen Morgan the character.  At the zenith of “Ellen’s” popularity, Degeneres decided Morgan would come out as a lesbian to imitate her own personal life.   Ellen Degeneres openly said she was lesbian, which sort of made sense, and she wanted to be moreostentatious about it.  It may have been a bad decision for the show, or just something the public and TV studio was not ready for, but Ellen Degeneres coming out, then wanting her character to also come out was a juncture in “Ellen.”  For the entire fourth season of “Ellen” gay clues were thrown in to forestall the coming out.  There became a tension in the show, and the gay direction clearly caused dissonance with Ellen Degeneres, the actors, creators, writers, network, and viewers.  I’m sure the network wanted Degeneres to marinate on her decision to make the character gay, thinking the idea wasephemeral.  Degeneres stuck to her guns and outed Ellen Morgan to grievous consequences.  The majority of the public found both Degeneres’ and Morgan’s “lifestyle” impious.  All of the religious zealots put pressure on the network (affiliated with Disney) to take the show off the air.  The producers and other people in charge were craven so they put a warning label before the show began.  A majority of the show’s former viewers abstained from watching the new, gay-themed show.

I remember knowing how my parents felt about gay issues when they abased both Degneres and her show and disallowed it in our living room.  “Ellen’s” declivity went on for the entire fourth and especially fifth seasons of the show.  The producers began to militate against Degeneres in an effort to “control” the show’s direction and take it to a more wholesome place.  By the middle of the fifth season, anyone could see the show and everyone affiliated with it were going down into the abyss and wouldn’t last much longer.  Degeneres and her message had become heterogeneous with her audience.  Everyonejettisoned Ellen Degeneres in a hurry.  Not just the Christian Right, but other factions antagonized everyone to do with “Ellen” so much, they had little choice but to cancel the show.

Afterward, Degeneres’ reputation was marred to such an extent you could not find her on an internet search.  Degeneres herself, wavered in her commitment to be adamantly gay and holed up out of the public eye in a depression.  Time and the introduction of “Will and Grace” as a popular gay-themed show palliated Ellen Degeneres’ image slowly, but surely.  This new and popular show, bolstered Degeneres’ confidence and you began to see her doing stand-up (with very few or no gay undertones) again.  As feelings began to change about homos, Ellen’s past “indiscretions” were alleviated according to the public.   Degeneres quit pushing the gay issues so hard, and the public remembered why they had liked her gregariouspersonality in the first place.

Though I think it was unnecessary to change “Ellen” so completely, sacrificing the original humor of the show, and pushing the gay issue, I lavish Degeneres with praise for being so courageous and trying to change the views of everyone.  I’m glad Degeneres abdicated stand-up and sit-coms in favor of her talk show though I liked most of the former.  I think her keen andarbitrary observations are hilarious and her sportive dancing is a crowd-pleaser for sure.  I also give Degeneres acclaim and am glad she was exonerated in the public, though it is silly she was “tried” the public arena at all.  Though I give kudosto Degeneres and hail her work on gay rights, which moved us along, I do not like her as a person, to my dismay.

I saw an episode of “The Ellen Degeneres Show” where she chastises an actor (I can’t for the life of me remember who) and pressure him to quit smoking, when all the while, Degeneres herself had been a (reticent) long-term smoker who was smoking at the time of the admonishment!  I thought she was a hypocrite for the smoking stuff, but the acme of Degeneres’ personal hypocrisy came when she cheated on her girlfriend–after having been so devastated when Ann Heche cheated on her.  The third reason I don’t like Ellen Degeneres as a person is her bifurcation with Lucy, her puppy.

Ellen, a spokes-person for Pet-Co, garrulously talked on her talk show about the new puppy she rescued.  She wasluminous when she mentioned the pup everyday, and had a contest to name the dog she had adopted.  On the show, Ellen appeared a hero of animals and doting pet owner, based on her own articulate fawning over “Lucy.”  Then, suddenly, Ellen started on a teary “admission” to her audience:  She had blithely rescued the dog when she didn’t really have the adequate time to spend with it.  She glibly maintained she had done the responsible thing and placed the dog with her hair-dresser and family who she knew personally and trusted to care for the puppy.

Though Ellen was an extolled spokes-person for Pet-Co and probably signed papers regarding the dog’s welfare and placement, she seemed surprised that the (cogent) adoption agency said giving the dog to someone else was against the adoption terms and asked for the dog back.  Degeneres cried when relating the tyro pet owner had little kids who didn’t understand why the dog was taken back.  On air, Ellen had the audacity to upbraid the adoption agency for breaking up a family–even though she probably realized full well she had shirked her responsibility towards the dog, and why they did it.  To me, Ellen seemed maudlin when telling the story to her audience, and I got the impression her woes were more about the way she looked as a (formerly exalted) Pet-Co advocate, then Lucy’s situation.

So even though I appreciate and approve what Ellen Degeneres did for the gay community, and WANT to like her because she’s so funny and SEEMS so nice and down to Earth, I find her a little mercurial, question her ethics and think she’s a hypocrite.

“The Jungle” + vocab

2 Jan

The Lithuanian family was tyro to the United States, and naively dreamed of the opportunities for them in the new country.  Their quixotic nature allowed them to believe they could accomplish anything with hard work.  The public was allowed to tour carefully selected portions of the packing plants, and eyes would dilate at both the efficiency of business and the cruelty towards the animals–the workers blended in with the machinery.  Instead of a belfry, the top level of the capitalist packing plants featured a mechanized assembly line to kill hogs quickly.

Jurgis proves to be an uneducated and whimsical character.  The materialist Realtor had numerous cogent reasons why buying the house was an excellent deal with no speakable consequences.  The foreign family was leery of signing a housing-contract, but after much scrutiny and deliberation could not find anything wrong with the deal .  After the lease was signed the family found out their bourgeois Realitor had used chicanery to sell them the house, and had left out important information.  The houses were meretricious and brand new in the advertisements, but were found to be in shoddy condition, just repainted for every new tenant.

The immigrants saw almost immediately that materialistic Chicago did not participate in philanthropy–no one helped anyone else and you had to screw someone over to survive.  The people of the community were all wily, and it seemed each had a scam to separate a person from his hard-earned money.  The only joke in Chicago’s vulgarian “back of yards” and wider packing plant was that they use everything of the hog but the squeal, which was really a euphemism for:  They use TB animals, downers, and rotten meat.  To the tours of outsider walked through the plants, the workers looked to be laboring with zeal–in reality they were “speeded up” so much they could barely keep up.  The martinet bosses has never-ending pull–if they didn’t like a worker, that employee could be replaced by any of the hundred eager people outside.  The employees were overworked, underpaid, and mistreated to such an extent that it caused almost all of them torpor and eventually killed them.

Through Jurgis, Upton Sinclair tells how even cows with turgid bellies were slaughtered for meat–then the unborn calves would be swept in the waste gutters.  Some parts of the factory were dangerously stentorian in noise, and men would be killed because they could not hear warnings.  It was chaos on the killing floor when the occasional steer got loose–no one could see four feet in front of him for the steam, and everyone would be running for cover holding their knives.  In some areas of the facility, the environmental conditions were so caustic, the workers would only live for a specified amount of time.

All of the philistine foreman were cold and known for their sardonic to abusive comments and behavior.  After hours, workers would perfunctorily hide the diseased animals which had been thrown into waste traps, inconspicuously in-between the healthy ones that had passed inspection.  The animals, workers, and product alike were found to be very noisome:  Animal were crowded and filthy, workers made inhuman by difficult work in dangerous conditions, and product diseased and covered in rat feces.  Conditions of the factories and the housing were unconscionable.

Nothing could be done, because parasite police and sycophant politicians who had the authority to change things weremendacious and scandalous.  Even blighted meat was put with the food product and sold to America as well as internationally.  The workers were hardly sentient after suffering all the abuses of the Chicago stockyards–they merely tried to eek out a survival for themselves and their families.

Jurgis had to upbraid his 13 year old nephew every winter because the boy was afraid of the snow after losing several fingers to frostbite and refused to walk to work on cold days.  The entire family of 12 became sick, distended and wan in the book from overwork, exhaustion, and filthy conditions.  After one member of the family would become sick or injured, the other eleven were left impecunious.  Workers would sit fallow, unable to get any work,  after suffering inevitable sickness or injury directly due to the living and working conditions of Packingtown.

The unions would attempt to arbitrate for better working conditions, but toadied union leaders were often paid off to spy for the meat packing plants themselves, so workers that rose up would be punished.  Everywhere you went in Chicago you had to be wary of legerdemain, mostly because everyone was desperate to survive.  During the brief labor strikes, there would be the shortest interregnum between the regular unskilled employees and negros and prisonors which temporarily replaced them.   Jurgis was forced to become a mendicant after he was blacklisted all through the packing district because he beat up his wife’s rapist–a foreman with political connections.  It turned out that Connor, who had committed such iniquities, had more pull than Jurgis who became politically connected.

The broad poverty was not just regaled to the stock yards–Chicago had a catholic shortage of work whether in the city or the rural areas.  In the book, the inflated owners of packingtown might as well be potentates for the swollen economic and class gaps.  When Jurgis is taken to Jones’ house by his (drunk) son, he recognizes panache and financial power everywhere.  After Jurgis got $100 from Jones, the saloon barkeep which he entrusted to change it for him, bilked him and gave him 94 cents instead of the $99 he was owed.

Jurgis was swayed to political frenzy by the rhetoric of a Socialist Party Member.  The last portion of Upton Sinclair’s book was an orotund propaganda pamphlet for the bulging Socialist movement–I suggest skipping the end over as nothing substantial happens.  Wider America saw Socialists as libertine crazies.

By the end of the book, the family had to have six members interred–all of which would have been avoidable in better conditions.  Nelson Morris Packing opened in 1889, closed in 1935;  Swift Packing Company opened in 1893, closed in 1967;  Armour Packing Company opened in 1903, closed in 1959.

Homeless + vocab

2 Jan

At the acme of my worst financial situation, I was lucky to have people who were able to provide financial support, so I wasn’t at risk of becoming homeless.  I can’t imagine losing my job and having to abdicate my house.  Instances of homelessness could be reduced substantially if people would just abstain from drugs.  I advocate laws that keep homeless out of sight and away from the public–desperate people could do anything.  When you are in money trouble, you need to react with alacrity to avoid real trouble.  Government assistance alleviates a lot of hardship, but they don’t have enough money to support everyone–and there is a lot of hoop-jumping required.

The life of a homeless person must be so ambiguous–I can’t imagine having no place to go and no schedule or routine.  Something arbitrary could happen to anyone and cause them financial trouble–especially if no one is in a position to help them when they need it.  A strung out person probably could not articulate that they need help–so they will get more and more desperate.  I have a constant phobia that the homeless will assail me to rob, rape, and render me dead.

Bifurcating with an addiction is very difficult and requires outside help in most cases.  I think there are government programs designed to teach a technical skill or provide education so the homeless can bolster their position in life.  Irresponsible people, who live only for bonhomie can get themselves in economic trouble quickly.  Hopefully when the economy recovers, jobs will burgeon, and there will be less homeless people.

It is so annoying that homeless people feel they have to deface underpasses and train cars and walls with their graffiti.  I giveencomium to the people charitable enough to help the homeless with donations or time.  People should be able to forestallpoverty at least enough to keep shelter.  For some reason, the homeless are the most gregarious when they are outside of grocery stores.  I feel sorry for veterans and other people with mental disorders that end up homeless-as a nation it isgrievous that we treat war heroes and incompetents with such disdain.  It comes down to the fact that people heterogeneousto well-adjusted population are homeless-they fail somehow.  In my mind, it takes some time to become impecunious–it seems people should be able to avoid it.  People that are traversing through some addiction or that have some sort of mental disability are often impetuous–so that could explain some of the poeple that have no shelter.

If I were homeless I would be terrified–I would hardly remain imperturbable.  The transient people are either that way because they were bad in someway or get impious as a result of such a hard life.  The only reason people would be living outside rather than in a shelter is they are somehow intractable, addicted to some substance, or are otherwise unable to follow the rules.  Maybe my phobia has made more invidious towards the homeless–but I feel the fear is based on fact.  I believe homeless people are in that situation because they have made decisions that are less than judicious.

There must be a juncture in someone’s life where they just give in to what ever tribulation they are wading through and decide they don’t care if they have a place to live.  If homeless people could kindle any motivation there are always crap-jobs they could do–even felons.

When the homeless approach me, I am laconic as possible and attempt to disengage, because I am afraid of what they might do to me.  The homeless people fording the viscous Spokane River were languidly drinking beer when we saw them at 10:30 AM one Sunday morning.  What do you expect if you are nothing but listless?  Of course you will lose everything!  On one hand the number of homeless people makes me lugubrious, but on the other, I can’t help to think they are responsible for their situation.

When Mike brought the homeless girl into our house, I was very mannered, and didn’t know how to act.  Tabitha talked about volunteering with the homeless, but it was more meretricious than sincere.  I wonder if homeless people ever feel mirthagain?  It is ostensible that homeless people lived a smart, pious life and just fell on hard times that could not be avoided–but it doesn’t seem to happen that way often.  When I see the homeless people walking around the community, they are always cursing and loud, very plebeian in character.  If people spent wisely and used more prudence in financial decisions, there wouldn’t be nearly as many homeless people.  If I were homeless, I would be hustling to improve my situation, but it seems the people I see living on the streets are quiescent and glutinously resigned to their fate.

The “Ellen” episode where she unknowingly invites a homeless man to her repast is easy to criticize–they were so awkward!  Like addicts, probably every single thing that comes out of a homeless person’s mouth can be repudiated.  People are usually reticent about why they are living on the streets-it’s probably not a pretty story.  A lot of homeless people usetangential reasoning for why they are in dire straights–them blame other people.  Homeless people are quick to go into atirade about how it isn’t their fault. . .  Yeah. . .  Maybe if their parents had given an damn and upbraided their kids when they were naughty, teaching them responsibility, those kids wouldn’t have grown up and failed at life to become homeless.

Panhandlers are so verbose about their need–when does pride go out the window?  Kids can be whimsical, but if they don’t have a grip on reality as adults, they will be at risk.  At night, walking alone, I see wraiths of homeless people and transients in my mind’s eye.  Living outside, by a river, especially in a northern state could be zephyr and thickly cold in a hurry.

Terrified of Fires

2 Jan

I just read a news article that almost made my physically ill–I’m sure I am ghostly pallid and I know I am shaken.  The apartment complex directly next door has a bunch of trash stacked on the side of the building.  It’s been there since we moved to Spokane in mid-September.  I had no idea why some apartment would besmirch the premesis with random trash!  Very recently I noticed a tarp on the opposite side of the building with trash.  When I looked closer, I saw evidence of a major fire.  One entire side of the building was desiccated so much that I do not know how I didn’t see it before.  So of course I was curious about the origin and time of the fire so I looked it up on the internet.  Surprisingly, the fire had gleaned a lot of media attention.

On September 4, at 2:30 AM, there was a four alarm fire call to that complex.  It doesn’t say how long it took to get the flames to subside, but by the time the flames were extinguished the third floor was almost entirely damaged and 21 ( think) apartments were deemed uninhabitable, displacing 60 residents.  Avista turned off the utilities to the building to stop any further electrical or water damage.  Apparently, apartment complexes are only liable for structural damage–not personal property of tenants or housing for the extricated people.  Anyway, there was a shelter set up for the victims at a local elementary school.

Turns out, the fire started because a third floor resident inappropriately put out his cigarette in a potted plant on the balcony.  And the dope was unaware of anything irregular, and was awoken to neighbors knocking on his door warning him to evacuate!  Also, he deleteriously stored gasoline on the same balcony, so when the cig sparked, the gas ignighted.  The siding on the building was no help either, as it was very flammable.  I wonder if a person that causes a fire deemed “accidental” faces criminal charges.  That retard just messed up the lives of 60 residents, not to mention property management.  The news said neither the coterie of firemen who helped put out the blaze or residents were injured or killed, but I can’t help but wonder if all the pets made it out unscathed.  The three little girls that lived in the originating apartment were sad their birds perished in the flames.  Who knows what other pets were left to burn–I shudder to think. . .

This sort of thing scares me to death!  I have to trust our lives, the lives of my pets, and all our belongings to my neighbors?!  It makes me long for the day when I can forswear apartment living all together!  And I know most of the people living in non-Rococo apartment complexes are idiots–that smoke.  We have balconies and people are smoking on them all the time.  It makes me wonder how they are extinguishing their cigarette and what they are keeping on the balcony.  Has anyone made rules or checked?  I have no idea.  Even if it makes me look officious, I wrote my apartment complex asking them to reassure me that some recent precautions have been taken in light of the fire in such close proximity.  I want our management to be flippin’ vehement about fire prevention now that I know the story about the building next door.

I have always been terrified of a house fire–I guess I never thought I had to worry about my dumb neighbors on top of my own activities.  I have been fairly voluble about the problem to our current landlord–because I am honestly afraid.  I was verbose in my side-notes on the lease, criticizing the lack of smoking rules, and noting how though the lease prohibits BBQs, most balcony’s have one out there.  The landlord has remained consistently glib about the subject of fires, saying, “Accidents happen. . .”  Kidron says I should bother our landlord or be so talkative about my fire-fears, but you haven’t met our neighbors–I would be surprised if they DIDN’T cause a fire!  Cool is embarrassed that I am loquacious about living problems, but I would be more mortified if I held my tongue, and something terrible did happen when I didn’t at least try to prevent it.  I have never had a problem speaking easily about what I feel is right and wrong–but it HAS gotten me in trouble time and again.  I wanted to leave our lease unsigned until the landlord made substantial changes to prevent fires, but ended up being pressured by Cool and without courage to stand my ground.  The landlord either doesn’t care about the risks or ispusillanimous to lose tenants, because she completely downplayed all my fire-safety concerns.  I was not too timid in my e-mail correspondence to the landlord, going as far as to tell her I would involve the fire department if I had cause to fear for my safety.  I would just hate to have cowardly responses to the landlord then have the hardly-ornate complex, all my belongings, my cats, and our lives be taken by an accidental fire caused by the dumb neighbors.

Alex Carter, reporter for MSNBC writes, “Each year, outside cooking grills cause more than 6,000 fires, kill five people (and injure more than 170 others) and destroy about $35 million in property according to records compiled by the National Fire Data Center of the U.S. Fire Administration.”  Obviously, it is an intricate problem!  So why is it that my landlord is so unconcerned?  When I asked for assurance of precautions she doesn’t address the smoking or BBQs on balconies at all, saying instead,

Identity Theft [10-31-10]

2 Jan

I tried to fill the car with gas, but the pump didn’t accept my debit card–it was declined inside as well, but I figured it was because the card was wizened and too bendy to read.  I called the bank to make an inquest about the status of my card because I know there is plenty of money in my account.  I hate the usury tacts my bank uses with my credit card-so I have a natural distrust of them.  At first, I thought it was some mistake and was belligerent for the inconvenience–but then I grewmonastic when I realized my account had been compromised.  Once I realized there was a problem I fervidly tried to find out how someone had gleaned my card information when the card had always been in my possession.

A criminal coterie in Seattle was putting card skimmers (they copy the magnetic strip on debit and credit cards to store and make a copy-card to be used later) everywhere including:  Gas stations, ATM machines, and stores such as Barnes & Noble’s.  When even your own (loan-sharking) bank’s ATM could be tainted by a skimmer who can a person trust?!  I wanted to investigate what businesses were affected but the list was so long, and there are unknown places, so it was impossible to find out where my card info was reaped.

I hope the boor who took my debit card numbers gets the effing felony they deserve!  I have much antipathy for anyone who would do this to innocent people.  The very next day, Cool called her bank to inquest why her debit card was denied at Win-Co.  She became impassioned when they told her she had fraudulent charges in California.

The animus, jerk-criminals who had stolen my debit number had licentiously stolen hers at the same time.  She actually got a lot further in her quest to find the person, because her abhorrent criminal had spent the money at Wal-Mart–where they videotape customer transactions.  My probe was stopped before it really started, because the Toys R Us charge had been denied so I didn’t know the location or time it took place, and I didn’t think Bed, Bath, & Beyond filmed their customers.

I am a supporter of throwing the book at these repugnant people–even if ultimately the banks are the only victim.  Along with the antagonistic card skimmers placed all over Western Washington, crooks are wantonly writing people’s card numbers, simply taking phone pictures of the card, or using mini skimmers to steal card info when the debit card is out of the patron’s sight.  The police and even secret service have been probing the case and it is on a national level.  So far the hated, fraudulent group has garnered, acquired, amassed, harvested, gathered, numbers from over 50,000 cards!  It’s hard to believe vulgarians like this are getting away with such fraudulent behaviors–it makes me very hostile.

I am going to have to begin being monastic about where I use my debit card.  We have both forsworn using our debit cards at the pump, I have rejected using my card at any restaurant, and I’m going to try to retract my frequent usage of my card all-together in favor my cash.  I was hoping that if someone had stolen my identity, the loathed criminals would pay back my undergrad loans which feature usury interest rates.  I was afraid whoever stole my digits would sully my good credit–I didn’t know how much info they had garnered.  Luckily, it seems the banks are acting an an exponent for their customers, rather than drawing out the experience and repulsively making people fight to get their money back.

Cabin-Mansion + vocab

2 Jan

At first, I thought the fusty Cabin-Mansion was really fancy with the loft, sky light, huge television, bar, and pool table on the inside and top-of-the-line spa, wrap-around deck, outside fireplace, and lovely view outside, but as I began to SEE the people in the atmosphere, the whole place became austere to me.  Where I had been anxious to get back to Dayton during those first days at school, I soon began to dread the sight of the bleak landscape that was the vintage Cabin-Mansion.  After I learned everyone was crazy, living there seemed grim and cold.  Even the vet hospital, which I had always loved, became a more harsh place to spend time.  Mary’s constant dour expressions towards me, especially, made it all the harder to be there.  The desert was still beautiful, but after I became depressed the view took a harder, more desolate tone.  Then, the weather became severe and made the Cabin-Mansion, and Dayton, and Reno just awful places to live and work.

I’m not certain what I would do if Mary tried to contact me to disabuse all the damage that was done in 2007.  I cannot imagine Mary would ever try to set right her wrongs, anyhow.  Kim attempted in a feeble way to make Mary free of errors that were made by apologizing on her behalf–it’s not the same.  The sketchy behavior will never be corrected–I’m certain Mary will always blame me and exculpate herself from any blame.  Dayton will never be undeceived by Mary’s ruse–even if I do get my tell-all book published.  No matter how sorry Kim is, Mary’s behavior towards me was not innocuous.  My self-worth was deeply injured after I left the Cabin-Mansion–the constant games were hardly insipid.  My parents were not harmless to my well-being at that time in my life either–they damaged me a lot too.  Kim’s drinking was also not as benign as everyone in the inner circle tried to portray–she is going to probably die from her alcoholism.

Mary’s cheating was not inoffensive, though it didn’t directly affect me–I was crushed by her lack of morals.  After I witnessed Mary head-butting Kim in a drunken brawl, all that obsolete propriety that had been securely in place for the duration of our relationship was forgotten.  Mary’s decorum towards me was aloof at best and downright mean at worst.  I was surprised at the lack of appropriateness in Mary, and didn’t expect such actions from someone turning 40 (outdated).  Yes, maybe I was acting stupid, but a little guidance, or at the very least decency, could have gone a long way to improve things, rather than the horribleness that only made everything worse.

Mary’s last straw was when I impeded upon her modesty when I refused to look away and let her discretely get out of her hot tub.  Mary, Kathy, and Debi among others I’m sure, formed a prehistoric cabal eager to knock me down and get me out of Dayton.  Mary acted as if she was in the mob–very secretive and hard-core.  Mary’s clan in Dayton is mostly concerned about portraying a respectable image to the community, while living dirty.  This in-group was all cheating, drinking, and generally carousing around when they were stale enough to know better.

It seems the gays always form a camp that is opposed to Republicans and church-goers.  I could never be involved in acoterie because I am an independent free-thinker.  When I first went to Nevada, I was fairly adept at remaining incapable of being affected by my crazy, superannuated parents–but as my morality began to weaken so did my resolve to keep them out of my life.  Mary thought this new version of Laurel was impossible to penetrate, but I felt I had good reason to be stubborn with my parents–I had to maintain certain boundaries for our relationship to grow and to gain my independence from them.
I was resistant to my parents at that time because they had become emotionally distant, financially barren, and were trying to control me as they had always done in the past.  Mary used this as an excuse to get me out of her (sketchy) personal business, and became emotionally impregnable towards me as a way of turning the tables.  I tried to be impervious to the atmosphere at the Cabin-Mansion, but failed on all fronts:  I drank too much just like them, was saturated in negativity, self-loathing, and apathy just like I had criticized in them, and I went back to Missouri broken.

Both Mary and my mom have always been dictatorial in their opinions.  Trying to make my own decisions didn’t work as long as those two were so domineering a force in my life.  I thought it was ironic that Mary didn’t like my mom for acting soauthoritarian when Mary herself was also magisterial over her inner circle, family, and employees.  Mary kept saying, “It’s none of my business, I’m not getting involved” regarding the deteriorating situation with my parents–yet she becameimperious about demanding me to talk to them.  When I didn’t follow Mary’s bossy dictum, she cut off communication with me.  This also coincided with my masterful plan of placing a sock in the guest bed to see if the (superseded) hairdresser was sleeping in it, or in Mary and Kim’s bed, which proved very, very dumb of me.  As soon as Mary realized I wasn’t stupid and I had seen her cheating, she became adamant about getting me away from her (and Kim) even going as far as toperemptorily ban everyone on her good side from speaking to me.  She was dictatorial in how others were allowed to interact with me–everyone was afraid to be seen talking to me, let alone hanging out with me.  Her doctrinaire hold over everybody amazed me, especially since they had only seen the good in me and didn’t know what I had done wrong.  Soon myoverbearing mother didn’t seem so bad compared to Mary’s mob tactics to destroy me.

Spokane Snow Driving [11-24-10]

2 Jan

I would not say I especially cowardly about driving in the snow–though I don’t love it.  I don’t go wandering around in bad weather when I don’t have to–I just want to get to work.  Being from the Seattle-area, where it doesn’t snow often, Kidron is pretty timid about driving in snow or ice.  Anyone would be pusillanimous {pew-sul-an-i-mous} about driving the slippery HHR that doesn’t handle well at all in any winter conditions.  Getting to work becomes a byzantine task when the front wheel drive vehicle is not working well at all.  The HHR has the heavy body of an SUV, but only the power of a car so it sucks more than my Jetta in snow–this makes for a tangled driving process in any inclement weather at all, ie:  Don’t brake–ever, simply take the foot off the accelerator and come to a natural stop, steer toward the curb for times when the car absolutely refuses to slow, take corners wide and at a maximum of 2 MPH, and never, never attempt to take an incline, but if you must gain speed for momentum, shift into I, and hope the driver behind you is a good samaritan willing to patiently wait–then give you a push. . .

I have to take a convoluted route to work in the snow.  In snow, we have to take itinerant paths just to get 3 miles away.  If there is even a slight incline the HHR can’t get up in the ice and snow, which means an intricate snow route is necessary.  I found this out the hard way when I took a complicated route to work, then still had to stop at a stoplight. . .  On a hill.  It took a police officer and another passenger to push me into the Office Depot parking lot.  I felt like such a pathetic vagrant when it happened!  With Spokane’s numerous maze of one-way streets, the river, freeway, and train tracks–it is a very elaborate endeavor to plan an alternate route.

Finding snow-chains anywhere in the vicinity was even more perplexing of a task–everyone is out now that it has snowed.  We would have to be so nomadic to get some that it would take us out of the inland pacific northwest entirely.  I hope the chains that were ordered from get here really fast and are not too complex for us to figure out in a hurry.  I will be unsettled until we have reliable snow-transportation to work.  Kidron had to skip work altogether because an alternate plan was so labyrinthine and archaic:  The bus would take three hours there and three back, taxi services were either completely unavailable or required 2 hour notice and $30 each way, the one person she knows at work comes in from ID and wasn’t answering her phone or Facebook, frustration!  How old-fashioned could public transportation be around here?!

I hate the snow because it makes driving a knotty experience if you don’t have 4-wheel drive.  As a person who hasn’t driven in a front wheel drive vehicle not equipt with snow or all-weather tires, speaking easily about how mild the roads seem is natural.  Until you drive the HHR in snow yourself, I don’t care how talkative you are about its supposed ability to handle the winter–you don’t know (I didn’t).  It’s ironic, because I was voluble about not wasting our few funds on new tires when the HHR had siped tires less than two years old–hardly ancient.  Now I’m verbose about how much worse it drives than my antediluvian Jetta which was not meant for snow in the least bit, and didn’t do great.  After a few precarious snow-drives in the thing, I became loquacious about fixing the problem so we could each get to work safely–poor Kidron!  I guess I was tooglib about the status of the tires before it snowed here–had I forgotten what a real winter was like in just one year of living in a mild climate?!

The only way to have levity in a snow storm is to have no reason to leave the house–anyone having to drive to work loses any enthusiasm in a hurry.  My boss said she is a terrible driver, especially in winter, because she has an inappropriate lack of seriousness and gets distracted easily.  I suppose I would be a lot less stressed about winter if I used more humor–who cares if I get stuck in the middle of the antique road blocking traffic?  It’s winter and it happens to everyone.  That said, I don’t want to be overly casual and wreck the car or kill myself driving around in the snow and ice.  Little kids are the only ones that can really have amusement in winter–if they have a snow day, because they don’t have to drive.

Spokane declared a severe blizzard warning for the first time since the mid-1990s.  The hard winds are what characterize a blizzard–viability has to be really low to call it that.   The temperatures were a grim 16 degrees to as low as 1 degree this morning at 9 AM.  When the old-fashioned city is undecorated (before Christmas) the snow looks especially dour.  After awhile snow starts to look austere, and I long for the more beautiful signs of life in the spring.  Gray skies coupled with white roads and bygone dead trees seem so bleak–especially in late winter.  The poor birds didn’t fly south and were out in the water in this harsh weather.

I don’t remember if Missouri weather was this severe, but I do remember a stern determination was necessary to get to work on time.  People are quick to promote rebellion when it comes to snow plowing.  It’s a thankless job that can never be done fast enough or well enough and people blame some sort of conspiracy instead of realizing this.  I don’t think Spokane deserves the insurrection the online bulletins are promoting–they’ve done a decent job despite treacherous weather conditions and a dated problem of lack of funds.  On the other hand, the sedition against Seattle’s mayor may have been justified–the dowdy dude didn’t have the city plow at all and wouldn’t use ice for environmental reasons–stupid.

Drivers do not show any propriety especially in rain or snow.  It would be decent of everyone to slow down and drive safely when ice and snow or rain are present–but most people belligerently speed by and weave in and out of slower traffic.  The trucks that show the least decorum in bad weather?  Effing 4x4s!  Then there’s the people going 5 MPH who aren’t driving with appropriateness either.  It would be a lot less hazardous in inclement weather if everyone drove with modesty.  Plus, it’s always good when drivers obey the rules and customs of the road–bad weather or not.

Failure is No Fun [5-19-08]

2 Jan

They say mental illness is being faced with the same circumstances, the same decision, repeatedly, and to expect different results.  Maybe I’m stupid or crazy, but when it comes to the prospect of getting into vet school, I’m an eternal optimist.  So I didn’t get in again—there’s no race, right?  So what if I don’t get in until I’m 40 years old—I’m convinced it will happen.  It would have been nice for it to happen sooner, rather than later, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.

It hurts me to put this out there, but after the third attempt, I didn’t get into vet school in Missouri.  I suppose it didn’t take prescience to realize it was not going to happen this time:  I left Missouri for a few months, lost a good letter of recommendation, and had mediocre grades.  I feel like you’ll think I’m a failure, like everyone I’ve ever pissed off is laughing right now, and I’m embarrassed that I couldn’t get in to the program after so many attempts.  I wish I could foresee the future and know I haven’t been trying in vain.

It may be ludacris, but I am still not discouraged.  I know veterinary medicine is what I’m meant to do with my life.  The premonition of me with a DVM behind my name had been in my mind since childhood.  I know I’m a great candidate to be a veterinarian.  It sounds arrogant, but I have more animal experience, drive, and heart than anyone I know.  Unfortunately, I don’t have a 4.0, which is what they are looking for these days.  Still, how can you fail at your calling?  I don’t pretend to be divinatory, but why would God give me this drive to achieve this goal, but not the ability to ever get there???  As unhappy I am that things haven’t worked out as planned, I can’t help but trust my oracular notion that I will still get in to vet school some where, some time.

Now, however, I’m sort of flailing.  This stasis is not easy to get out of either.  I’m not sure what route to take.  I know I want to establish a state of balance and equilibrium in my life–after the instability of this last year.  Do I use my Millennium and get a biology degree inNevada?  Do I get a masters in Biology, and if so, in which state,Nevada or Missouri (the 2 places I can afford because of my in-state residency) and when should I do it?  Do I apply to vet schools in the Caribbean, and if so do I go ASAP or wait until some bills are paid and go later?  Would moving at all garner the inertia I am seeking or is that the opposite of the emotional standstill I am looking for?  I feel like I have all these decisions to make, and none of them is optimal.  Again, augural assistance would be most-helpful in making these difficult and life-altering decisions.

All of this failure also makes me second guess pervious choices in my life.  Did I obstruct my entry into vet school by making the wrong decision somewhere along the line?  Maybe if I had gone to another state instead of Missouri, I would have been accepted into a veterinary program, rather than barricaded out of every class I applied to.  What would have happened if I hadn’t have gone toNevada last semester–that must have occluded my chances substantially, as Missouri then saw me as a flight risk.  And I certainly would not have had so much trouble with Mary, her retraction of recommendation must have at least (and probably more than that too) subliminally closed some doors that had been previously open to me.  Now, I wish I would have never gone back to Nevada, Dayton, or the Cabin-Mansion.  I suppose that’s a counter-productive line of thought, but I can’t help but to address these issues. . .

So that’s where I’m at—not entirely surprised that I fell short again this year, but still slightly disappointed that I can’t achieve my dream as easily as I would prefer.

Bad Behavior [originally posted 12-7-07]

2 Jan

These are the top 10 worst things (that I can remember right now) that I have ever done.  ….


10.  When I lived with Douche, and we were still on sort of good terms, I thought I would clean the vacuum as it was super-dusty, and no longer worked well.  I thought it would be smart to use water to clean the dust.  The vacuum was really clean after I finished, but it no longer worked at all!  I let Douche believe that it had just broken on its own.


9.  When Eileen (my last roommate) started being mean to me, I used her super-expensive shampoo that she told me never to touch.  I used liberal amounts, even though it wasn’t for my type of hair.


8.  When I was dating Douche, I looked (just looked—it was completely innocent) at my friend’s penis.  I looked at it in Douche’s bathroom during one of Douche’s pot-lucks, while a bunch of Douche’s friends were over.


7.  In a lot of my college classes, I programmed answers in to my calculator and used it to cheat on exams.


6.  In seventh grade, Crystal and I went to Mervynn’s, and I thought it would be a good idea to steal some nail files.  I was too scared to actually go through with it, so I made….Crystal…. do the actual carrying of them out of the store.


5.  My senior year of high school I would go get drunk with my (older) co-workers.  My parents were highly against under-age drinking and would insist I kiss them goodnight when I got home.  I would eat peanut butter so when I staggered in, the booze wouldn’t be on my breath.


4.  I house-sat for this girl at my work (Douche-bag Dana) that I didn’t like and took several of her movies.  Not only did I steal her videos, but I pawned them for cash, because I didn’t like them.


3.  My first year in ….Missouri…., I smoked weed (a felony) at least 10 different times. Probably more, but I lost count.  I smoked it from a joint, a pipe, a hookah, with friends, at parties, with Douche, at home, at friend’s houses, you name it. . .


2.  I slept with my boss’ spouse—shhhhh.  AND  I would have done it again if the opportunity arose.


1.  In third grade, I tried to poison Courtney John, because I hated the bitch.  Thank God Rachelle Rogers foiled my plan by telling her!


Panic to my Body! [12-2-07]

2 Jan

I can’t write the blog I would REALLY like to write.  Maybe I will one day, because it is the most entertaining, crazy, unbelievable blog yet.  For now I still hold out a little hope that the situation will correct itself.  Given time, things might go back to the way they are supposed to be.  Have you ever looked back at your life and thought it wasn’t possible for things to happen as they did?!  Even though I know things happened, it’s still hard for me to wrap my mind around it.  Things were NOT supposed to go this way.  How could everything be so wrong?!  I could never have imagined this. . .  Well, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about, so I’ll move on to my real blog topic…

I had a total panic attack—rightly so, I think.  Last weekend was Thanksgiving, right? Four days off.  I spent the entire weekend at my work (spent the night there and everything).  I got to watch a couple of DVDs, and used the bathroom as much as I wanted (in the middle of the night and everything) and I didn’t have to drive to my kennel duty, but it wasn’t the awesome story I had anticipated.  Maybe I should have utilized some things at work.  I could have given myself urine tests and taken radiographs of my head or something.  I didn’t do anything of the sort though.  Just slept, showered, worked.

By the end of the holiday, I was super-bored.  At least in my 5th wheel, I SEE people every once in awhile.  The only contact I had at work was the dogs in the kennel.  I didn’t do any homework though—cause, hello, it was a holiday!  Monday, I was also bored.  I think I was taking a bunch of surveys to pass the time.  Cut to Tuesday, the first day back to school.  I had to go to school early to make an appointment.  When I got there, my appointment was not only NOT on the books, but the guy I was supposed to see was out for the week.  I was super-annoyed that I was at school so early with nothing to do.  I mean, we had just had a 4 day weekend, what homework was there to do?  To pass the time, I went to the library and got on the internet.  Then, after f-ing around for an hour or two, it was finally class time.  I went to my first class and sat in the middle.  I usually sit near the end of the row, but for some reason, I thought it might be cool to sit in the middle.

I was taking notes when I got a text from my friend—who happens to have four of my five classes with me.  About that:  I did not even know her when we signed up for classes.  It was completely random that we have the exact same schedule!  Amazing! But anyway, she sent a text that said, “Ready for the cell bio exam?”  I thought, what a random question.  Why would she ask me such a question out of the blue?  I said, “No, that’s not today, is it?”  I was like, uh oh, seriously, why would she ask that?  I mean, what professor would put an exam right after a long break?  They NEVER do that!  Before she had a chance to respond though, I looked in my planner, which I hadn’t looked at (uncharacteristically) in at least a week.  Just to make sure there was no crazy exam. Sure enough, right on the first line it said, “Cell Bio Exam.”  Great I had an exam in less than 2 hours and I had not studied at all.  This was the time I started to hyperventilate.

It was bad enough I hadn’t studied for the test.  What was worse was that I had skipped a couple of lectures in that class (to attend extra credit lectures for another class) and had printed the lecture notes, and put them away without looking at them.  Somehow I erroneously thought I had plenty of time later to look at the notes.  So I hadn’t attended the lecture, READ the notes, or studied. . .  Great this exam was gonna be an A for sure *sarcasm*

I don’t think I have ever before not prepared at ALL for an exam.  It was too late to do anything about it though.  I couldn’t cover all that material in less than two hours.   So I had to take a full-length exam without any preparation what-so-ever.  You know, I’m not sure being completely unprepared made a difference.  When I was taking the exam, it didn’t seem and MORE difficult than usual.  Even when I did study for that class, I still was not confident in answering the test questions.  I’m going to laugh so much if I did the same or better on this test as I did on the previous exams, that I had spent a lot of time preparing for!

Moral of the story:  Sometimes OCD is a good thing.  I won’t talk myself out of it anymore. Constantly looking at the planner can’t hurt, and studying over a break will definitely be had next time!  I’ll let you know what the grade is when I find out.  Most likely it’s the F that I deserve. . .