And I'm beat. I was still in a funk this morning, but the mood improved considerably when Josh made a joke this afternoon. French class was un peu terrifying-- I'm responsible for knowing how to indicate past tense, which we didn't learn in my last French class. That first French course was accepted by UCF, and I figured I needed to look over some vocabulary and make sure I knew the pronouns and the regular conjugations that go with their verbs, but the past tense just... It won't be hard to learn, but I need to have it seamlessly integrated by Wednesday night. I have time to study. I think I can do it.
I really want to take French with a classmate from that first class at Valencia. We've been friends on Facebook since then and kept up with one another and planned to take French together when we could. This was the first semester it's worked out, and there are two professeurs at UCF. We registered with a madame, but some time after we registered Msr. Wardeh was assigned as the instructor. He seems nice enough, but demanding. A friend has warned me that he's not her favorite professor. While I might be able to get the past tense down quickly, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to handle the rest.
Really want to take the class with Sara, but I think I'm going to use Wednesday night's class as a compass. Crossed fingers.
More about the other classes later.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Benefits and benefactors
When Josh is sad I'm usually sad by association. I love him and I want him to be happy, and if I can't come up with something to say or show him to help his mood I feel sort of useless. I'm not sure if this is better or worse when we're so far away from one another-- certainly I want to hold him while he's sad; he does that for me when we're together and it helps.
I miss him pretty bad today. Had a nice few hours at work and got to talk about him a few times earlier and I know that's probably making me miss him more. I was able to (very nearly!) painlessly tell one of the girls that asked that we wouldn't be getting engaged until we could spend some time living together. For which I expected chocolate to fall from the sky and was then deeply depressed by the lack of.
Anyway, he's down today. I get like that, too, and I know sometimes I don't really want people to suggest ways that I feel better-- my mom really gets on my nerves when she says "If you're lonely, you should call your parents!" though I know she's trying to help. And knowing people want to help is usually what soothes me. A little while after I saw a post in that vein on Facebook last night I found some stand up on Netflix and watched that for a few hours. Laughter's the best medicine. When I was so, so scared about giving blood I called my dad and he pretty much said exactly what I asked him not to in the drawn-out "Help me!" preamble, but I knew from his tone and silliness that he wanted me to feel better, and that helped more than I can possibly tell him. I would have left without doing it if it weren't for dad.
Really, Josh and Dad are the men in my life. There are very few other men I see on a regular basis and really no other male opinions I consider. Cliff is Heather's husband, Richard is Hannah's husband, and they're valued through association and appreciated, but... I don't love them, I guess, is the point. It's probably a good thing to not love too many men. It's probably a good idea to do a certain amount of thinking only in your head, Alex.
My dad is an accountant, and I wish I'd known my Papa better because dad's got a lot of wheeler-n-dealer in him and it's been explained to me that this is something Jennelle males inherit without exception. A thing I'm nostalgic for without ever experiencing is the barter system I understand my grandfather had with some of his clients-- he'd paint a house, they'd give him groceries, that sort of thing. Dad deals with money, but I know of many a client who he's bartered work for goods with. A Franklin Mint die cast for monthly accounting services. Lawn mower repair for tax returns.
He's worked something out with a client very recently, and I think he did it with my benefit in mind. I'm about an hour away from home now and I see my parents a few times a month. But this really, really touches me. I'm sure there's something this client could have given him directly, but he asked his client for it to go to me, instead. And it's food! Out by school! So, so useful in the coming months. Days. Shoot, I should have called today and arranged it so I could have gotten dinner.
This appreciation of intent, and of the consideration that others offer me, is a pretty powerful thing, and it sticks in my memory. The first time I got to visit Josh after we were officially an item (long story short: we've been long distance since we got together), we went to lunch with his parents in Boston. Royal East; really yummy Chinese. It was a good lunch and I was happy to be with him and only a little nervous about his parents, and one of them asked if there was anything I wanted to see or do while I was up there. I threw out a few things I wanted, knowing that a few were silly and that the trip was too short to get in most of them. But I told them about my plan to see the Glass Flowers at the Harvard hiss! Museum of Natural History and that I wanted to see the Smoot Marks and a few other things.
When we got done with lunch, Josh walked us right over to the bridge so I could see the Smoot Marks. I didn't even realize what he was doing until we were there. He's written and said and done sweet things since then, but that one was so unexpected and sweet I could only babble thanks at the time; I was too impressed with him to appreciate what he'd done, if that makes sense.
I think a lot. One of the stand up shows I watched last night was Wanda Sykes' Tongue Untied, which contains a small section about how women can't stop thinking. A good chunk of my thinking is devoted to Josh, and the ways I want to make him happy. Another good chunk is remembering and thinking about the nice things the men I do not expect to be sweet do for me, and hoping I can give them pleasant memories, too.
I miss him pretty bad today. Had a nice few hours at work and got to talk about him a few times earlier and I know that's probably making me miss him more. I was able to (very nearly!) painlessly tell one of the girls that asked that we wouldn't be getting engaged until we could spend some time living together. For which I expected chocolate to fall from the sky and was then deeply depressed by the lack of.
Anyway, he's down today. I get like that, too, and I know sometimes I don't really want people to suggest ways that I feel better-- my mom really gets on my nerves when she says "If you're lonely, you should call your parents!" though I know she's trying to help. And knowing people want to help is usually what soothes me. A little while after I saw a post in that vein on Facebook last night I found some stand up on Netflix and watched that for a few hours. Laughter's the best medicine. When I was so, so scared about giving blood I called my dad and he pretty much said exactly what I asked him not to in the drawn-out "Help me!" preamble, but I knew from his tone and silliness that he wanted me to feel better, and that helped more than I can possibly tell him. I would have left without doing it if it weren't for dad.
Really, Josh and Dad are the men in my life. There are very few other men I see on a regular basis and really no other male opinions I consider. Cliff is Heather's husband, Richard is Hannah's husband, and they're valued through association and appreciated, but... I don't love them, I guess, is the point. It's probably a good thing to not love too many men. It's probably a good idea to do a certain amount of thinking only in your head, Alex.
My dad is an accountant, and I wish I'd known my Papa better because dad's got a lot of wheeler-n-dealer in him and it's been explained to me that this is something Jennelle males inherit without exception. A thing I'm nostalgic for without ever experiencing is the barter system I understand my grandfather had with some of his clients-- he'd paint a house, they'd give him groceries, that sort of thing. Dad deals with money, but I know of many a client who he's bartered work for goods with. A Franklin Mint die cast for monthly accounting services. Lawn mower repair for tax returns.
He's worked something out with a client very recently, and I think he did it with my benefit in mind. I'm about an hour away from home now and I see my parents a few times a month. But this really, really touches me. I'm sure there's something this client could have given him directly, but he asked his client for it to go to me, instead. And it's food! Out by school! So, so useful in the coming months. Days. Shoot, I should have called today and arranged it so I could have gotten dinner.
This appreciation of intent, and of the consideration that others offer me, is a pretty powerful thing, and it sticks in my memory. The first time I got to visit Josh after we were officially an item (long story short: we've been long distance since we got together), we went to lunch with his parents in Boston. Royal East; really yummy Chinese. It was a good lunch and I was happy to be with him and only a little nervous about his parents, and one of them asked if there was anything I wanted to see or do while I was up there. I threw out a few things I wanted, knowing that a few were silly and that the trip was too short to get in most of them. But I told them about my plan to see the Glass Flowers at the Harvard hiss! Museum of Natural History and that I wanted to see the Smoot Marks and a few other things.
When we got done with lunch, Josh walked us right over to the bridge so I could see the Smoot Marks. I didn't even realize what he was doing until we were there. He's written and said and done sweet things since then, but that one was so unexpected and sweet I could only babble thanks at the time; I was too impressed with him to appreciate what he'd done, if that makes sense.
I think a lot. One of the stand up shows I watched last night was Wanda Sykes' Tongue Untied, which contains a small section about how women can't stop thinking. A good chunk of my thinking is devoted to Josh, and the ways I want to make him happy. Another good chunk is remembering and thinking about the nice things the men I do not expect to be sweet do for me, and hoping I can give them pleasant memories, too.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Sitch
Got home midday Monday from a nice Wisconsin visit. It was a little up and down emotionwise, but a very good visit. I will try very hard to get around to writing about it sometime soon.
Came home to a... slightly different situation than the one I'd left. I live with my mom's cousin (who I grew up idolizing and calling "Aunt Pat"), her wife (hereafter "H") and lots of cats and three dogs and an aquarium full of coral and tropical fish. My place is a sweet little suite, sort of like an efficiency with a really nice bathroom. I have a little kitchenette a yard or so away from the foot of my bed. Anyway. There's a door to the bathroom from my room and another from the hallway off the main house.
Sharing the bathroom now with H's dad. Which is not a problem. I haven't even seen him yet. Aside from knowing there's someone in the bathroom a few feet away from me when the light comes on when I'm trying to sleep, there haven't been any snafus or weird smells or undealable-with unpleasantries. The door to the bathroom from the hallway stays open now, so that H's dad can access it. No problem there, either.
But the litter box for the cats I'm watching (pretty much by way of rent) was in the bathroom, and I'm watching them because they're meant to stay away from the other animals. So now the cats live full time in my room, and as of last night their litter box does, too.
I love animals. I'm a girl like that. I think animal abusers are scum. I've also learned that with the great cuteness of cats comes great responsibility. I hate the smell of cat pee. HATE IT. I put baking soda in the litter last night and I'll make a point of scooping as often as possible and I burned a Yankee Candle for the better part of the evening and will again tonight and my air circulator plug in thingy has been running nonstop. But if that smell becomes a part of my living arrangement I will go bonkers.
The cats peed on my bed when I stayed with my parents over the Fourth of July weekend. They had plenty of food and water and even treats and I cleaned their litter box right before I left, but they peed on the floor and on my bed. This violation cost them dearly on the Alex's Trust front. So far no problems, but I'm nervous to leave them here while I'm at work and school for the whole day.
I'd prefer they never went near the bed again, but I know they'll sleep on it while I'm gone. So the plan is to cover everything with a blanket I'm not emotionally or financially attached to when I'm out and hope for the best. I do have access to laundry at home now, so if anything happens I'll have a quick, hopefully quiet freak out and then apply antismell enzymes and wash wash wash.
On a Beach Boys kick lately.
That is all.
Came home to a... slightly different situation than the one I'd left. I live with my mom's cousin (who I grew up idolizing and calling "Aunt Pat"), her wife (hereafter "H") and lots of cats and three dogs and an aquarium full of coral and tropical fish. My place is a sweet little suite, sort of like an efficiency with a really nice bathroom. I have a little kitchenette a yard or so away from the foot of my bed. Anyway. There's a door to the bathroom from my room and another from the hallway off the main house.
Sharing the bathroom now with H's dad. Which is not a problem. I haven't even seen him yet. Aside from knowing there's someone in the bathroom a few feet away from me when the light comes on when I'm trying to sleep, there haven't been any snafus or weird smells or undealable-with unpleasantries. The door to the bathroom from the hallway stays open now, so that H's dad can access it. No problem there, either.
But the litter box for the cats I'm watching (pretty much by way of rent) was in the bathroom, and I'm watching them because they're meant to stay away from the other animals. So now the cats live full time in my room, and as of last night their litter box does, too.
I love animals. I'm a girl like that. I think animal abusers are scum. I've also learned that with the great cuteness of cats comes great responsibility. I hate the smell of cat pee. HATE IT. I put baking soda in the litter last night and I'll make a point of scooping as often as possible and I burned a Yankee Candle for the better part of the evening and will again tonight and my air circulator plug in thingy has been running nonstop. But if that smell becomes a part of my living arrangement I will go bonkers.
The cats peed on my bed when I stayed with my parents over the Fourth of July weekend. They had plenty of food and water and even treats and I cleaned their litter box right before I left, but they peed on the floor and on my bed. This violation cost them dearly on the Alex's Trust front. So far no problems, but I'm nervous to leave them here while I'm at work and school for the whole day.
I'd prefer they never went near the bed again, but I know they'll sleep on it while I'm gone. So the plan is to cover everything with a blanket I'm not emotionally or financially attached to when I'm out and hope for the best. I do have access to laundry at home now, so if anything happens I'll have a quick, hopefully quiet freak out and then apply antismell enzymes and wash wash wash.
On a Beach Boys kick lately.
That is all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)