Time for another rant

And we'll start it the way I try to preface all the ranting I do internally: with the good stuff first.

Had a wonderful spring break. Went on a cruise with one of my best friends and then almost immediately to Wisconsin to spend the rest of my break with my boyfriend. Managed to get up the next morning and go to work, which is an accomplishment. I came home to a clean room thanks to best friend, who catsat and many other things I wasn't expecting. There were flowers! That was a really lovely surprise. Got a 95 on the midterm for one of my exhausting classes. Did better than most other students (not a 95, but I'm thinking in terms of range, here!) on the midterm in my incredibly exhausting class. Goldie got a car wash yesterday and she looks great. The move is all planned out, I had a really nice weekend, and yesterday I got Chipotle for dinner. Went out for dinner with the aunts and a friend of theirs a few nights ago and there were many drinks and good food and they told the waitress it was my birthday even though it was actually a few days before and we got away with it. So there's plenty of good.

Now for the bad and the ugly.

I like my job a lot, but the people I work with are driving me extra crazy lately. There's a director (unfortunately over our director) in the organization who is a really, really trolly individual. She's been checking our voicemail every once in a while lately. We've been REALLY busy lately; there are field trips, summer field trips, break camps (that's almost over, c'mon, Friday!), and summer camps that we're registering for, and we seem to be getting a lot more birthday and front desk calls as well. So there were messages in there once from two hours before La Monstra checked and she went batshit on our boss's boss, who with considerably more humanity passed it down the hierarchy that we need to be checking voicemails more regularly. Okay. We probably do.

Apparently the way my coworkers and I interpret that is very different. I think it means "Answer the phones, and check the general voicemail for messages several times a day." The women in my office appear to think it means "let it go to voicemail, check it... Iunno, whenever?" And returning calls? Riiiiiiiight. So any day now I expect that we'll get another lecture about returning them.

There's been this seed of discontent for a while, that it feels like they believe I'm breaking them, not working with them. And lately that's only been proven true. Rubbing rock salt and metal shavings in that wound is the fact that they just sort of blinked through my birthday. Our team lead (who I like more) said happy birthday when she came in, the other forgot and called me after I left the office to go to school. Everyone else who knew it was my birthday made a much bigger deal than my officemates. So. I see.

And now let's talk about the rest of this natal commemoration! Birthday wasn't the best. Night-before-Birthday dinner plans (convoluted, with much eggshell stepping) eventually got established and a reservation was made, I drove the aforementioned friend with me, and as we were turning into the parking lot Goldie's sway bar bent really badly. Then dad decided he wanted to go out and look at it. I KNEW the car was going to need to be towed, but, hey, he's my dad. He had me back up a foot or so.

Me: "Dad, I don't think that's a good idea."
Dad: "Just do it, kid."
Swaybar: "BREAKCLUNKSNAPcracklepop!"

It's not like I didn't forsee something bad happening, but I felt like a terrible car mom. Josh got me roadside assistance when we signed up for our phones, so I knew I could get the car towed to the shop where all her work gets done. I thought I could go inside and get through dinner and then take care of setting that up, but nooooo. Parents insisted otherwise. Took 20 minutes to get through hold, being put on hold several times, and the operator asking me to repeat the information. 20 minutes while my guests sat in the restaurant and I stood outside, trying not to cry. The roadside assistance covered the first $50 of towing, so I knew I'd be out a bit but could handle it. As we were finally finishing up the operator said the tow truck would arrive in about 45 minutes, and I said that wouldn't be a problem but I was going inside to have dinner with my family and friends, so if there was any way the ticket could be placed a little later in the queue that would be fine, no rush. He made some bumbling noises-- he was almost a completely useless schmuck-- and about 15 minutes later I got a call from the tow truck driver. This actually ended up working out well, since afterward I could enjoy dinner without worrying about any more interruptions. Mom walked out to the car with me, which was nice, and then when I started to fill out my card information asked what I was doing. AAA could have done it for free, was her point. But mom and dad are AAA members and I am not, and no one volunteered the service (nor did I expect them to). Thankfully this seemed to be quickly got over and $54 later Goldie was on her way to Tuffy. Dinner never seemed as comfortable for my guests as I wanted it to be, but the food and service were great. Our waiter brought out a little dish of defuckinglicious mango ice cream with a candle stuck in the middle. I made a wish. I did not wish for graduate school acceptance, a move I am rueing most ruefully now, over a week later.

Monday was my actual birthday. Monday I was supposed to hear from graduate school. Monday I did not. I was miserable at work and miserable at school. After school I decided to go to the county tax collector's office to renew my registration, register the Vespa in my name, and get the motorcycle endorsement on my license. I forgot the two pieces of mail I needed for the DL transaction, so I motored home to get those. Got back at 4:01. They won't process a license change if you pull a ticket after 4:00. Okay, been that kinda day and I know they have rules. I waited to take care of the registration stuff.

I have never had a bad experience doing DMV stuff, and until now I haven't understood the bad rap those offices and employees get. But oh. Oh, do I now.

A woman I am convinced graduated summa cum unpleasantus from Beezelbub's Online anti-Charm Academy "helped" me. She was a BITCH. I cannot say it enough. So I got done with what I could do, walked back up to the truck (mom loaned me hers while Goldie was in the shop, another good thing that should have been mentioned at the start of this entry), and had a small, long overdue nervous breakdown. Tried to straighten myself up so I wouldn't look like... I did, I guess, when I paid for parking. Got home. Parked truck. Continued breakdown. Eventually I seized upon a mantra that helped me calm down ("You're going to move to Wisconsin, you're going to live with Josh, and he loves you no matter what"), and I made my way inside. Kerflopped. Considered asking the aunts if we could do Indian birthday dinner another night. And shortly after I decided that wasn't the best idea, one of the aunts knocked on my door.

The other aunt had run out of gas and was stuck. The other car wouldn't start. I began to suspect witchcraft.

We fought traffic to get to the gas station. We fought traffic to get out of the gas station. We made a dangerous U-turn I would never, ever have executed had I been in my right mind. The gas wasn't flowing into the tank. Aunt-I-Am-Actually-Related-To found a stick. We all got home. I explained the cruddy turn of events at the tag agency and that no, I hadn't heard anything from UW-Madison. Dinner went well enough. Poor Josh called later that night and I'm so, so lucky he's still with me. I was so depressed.

Tuesday--! I was still depressed. I was convinced I would never hear from or get into graduate school. And then I got an email.

Waitlisted.

At the time I was so relieved to hear anything, anything from them that I felt much better. The reality of not knowing where I am on that list or if the waitlist is a soft no bugs me a bit, but after talking with Josh (he's a miracle worker), I think I'm alright. I would love to get in this year, but if not I'll have residency established and I have a plan to make myself a very attractive applicant the next go 'round. I'm a little stuck as to what to hope for, honestly. I want in. I don't want the delay of a year in my hazy plans for getting married and having a child in the future. But it really might be better to wait. The only hang up on that is that I'm scared about getting academic letters of recommendation, since I won't have taken a class with my UCF professors in over a year if I'm in the admissions ring again next year. Part of my plan is taking one of the SLIS courses as a non degree seeking student and wowing the tar out of that professor. I guess I could take two. I'm just not sure.

More crap at work, mostly being away from my desk for 9/10 of my shift with no warning or expressed exemption from the expectation that I do everything I have to do at my desk. The girls in my office acting (maybe they're not acting) like they're so sad I'm leaving in May two days after they barely registered that it was my birthday. Major senioritis. Just. don't. wanna. do. any. more. work. I'm doing it, but always after digging in my heels for laziness, justice, and the American Way first. The shower bench that geriatric housemate uses appears to have been permanently moved into the bathroom, so I have to wrestle it out every morning. He keeps leaving the light on, I keep turning it off. Battle of the generations if e'er there was one.

Came home at lunch today and my birthday card from Josh wasn't in the mail. Don't know what I did to irk who with what power, but today's rain has suited the mood of things pretty well. But the rain's also been badly needed. I'm realizing lately that-- if you forget the occasional meltdown-- I'm an optimistic person, but that I don't want to throw my hope into something and look foolish. So I'm not taking anything from it being raining but that it's raining, and that the rain is needed.

I don't want to be unfairly moody, but wtf? :/ This is not going to help me study.

Also

The housekeeper's husband just flooded the bathroom. The old man complains (loudly) if the water is too cold, so I can see what the H'sH was doing; he turned the water on to make sure it was warm before he went to get the old man for his shower. But HH left the showerhead hanging on its cord, facing outwards. Towards my door. So as I was studying a few minutes ago I noticed an unusual noise, and then a puddle coming through the crack between the door and the floor.

I will be in Wisconsin tonight, I will be in Wisconsin tonight, I will be in Wisconsin tonight.

I wanted rugs for my room (it's tiled) for Christmas, and mom got me two. Between the cats spraying them and these exciting sudden floods, I don't think I've gotten to have both on the floor for quite some time.

On Living With Others: A Series of Complaints (I am an only child)

I live with my sort-of cousin (I call her my aunt) and her wife. I love them and generally want to grow up and be at least a tenth as cool as they are. I love living in Orlando, so close to work and school. I love having a room that I don't have to worry about anyone barging in on or going through. I love my little kitchen and the way smells go through my whole living space when I make something yummy (though I learned in class yesterday this is very American and a French person would detest this circumstance-- there goes that dream). I have windows and a comfy chair and a very comfy bed and now a desk with a good chair, and life in my room is great. But there are times when I need to use the bathroom. Fact of life.

I hate sharing a bathroom with an old man. I fucking hate it. It gets worse and worse. I repeat my plea to anyone listening, should they have power or not: I never ever ever ever ever want to be an old man.

When he first moved in the toilet was equipped with stabilizing bars (to hold onto, I guess?). That wasn't really a big deal; easy to ignore. But then used diapers were just... left... on... the... towel stand. I think I may have gone into shock the first time. Totally not prepared for this. It hasn't happened more than those first few times so it may have been adjustment, but oooooooooh was I less than overjoyed. I am downright mad now when the seat is less than clean, we'll say. I'm sorry to bring these things unpleasant things up, but I'm really frustrated and need to vent.

He also uses ridiculously amounts of toilet paper. Sometimes the aunts provide this, but I've taken to going to Big Lots and just getting big packs myself.

There's no regularity to when he needs to use the bathroom and I understand when you've got to go... Yeah. But if I'm using the bathroom myself, or getting ready in the morning, more often than not he will swear loudly if the door is closed. I've been introduced to him several times, and last weekend I tried to help him at 1 in the morning when he fell. It does not seem to stick for him that I live here, and that the bathroom is not locked just to inconvenience him. I've tried timing my mornings several different ways but there's no definite or even semi-reliable time to take a shower that won't bother him. I can't do it at night, either. I'm a bit scared to shave because sometimes he'll bang the hell out of the door and that makes me jump. And forget taking a bath. :{ I bought a small stash of bath bombs with a birthday giftcard to Lush last year and ended up giving them to my friend; I'll never get to use them here.

The bathroom is also open to the main house now (it used to be closed off and part of my area of the house), so the dogs have access to the room. The dogs are cute, this is no big deal. The dogs using their puppy pads only 2/3 of the time is a deal. 'Cause the bathroommate sure isn't bending over to take care of that stuff. And the housekeeper who helps him shower and stuff does not appear interested in dealing with the situation, though to her credit she may be missing what I see when I get home, and I might be missing things she deals with. I'm willing to assume that.

It appears impossible that he use the bathroom without muttering to himself or swearing at the dogs if they follow him in. There is only a door between my room and the bathroom, so at 1 in the morning (it's just our special time, apparently) this noise is less than welcome. I found a great website last semester that generates noise to cancel what's around you, and I use it a lot when I'm home.

Generally the lights over the sinks are left on all the time. I don't see why this is necessary during the day, but whenever I shut them off they're always back on soon enough. Lately he has decided to leave the light over the actual W.C. area (which is just within that door) on all the time, too. So to check and see if someone is there, on the offchance he's not muttering? I have to look under the door to see if his feet are there. I feel disgusting when I do this, and doing it in front of Josh over the holidays was humiliating.

So I got a text message from my aunt while I was having tea with some friends: We don't want to catch you playing on the new toilet set-up. She was being funny and I hadn't seen it yet, so assuming it was new arms or something I responded You're no fun. How will I develop my latent gymnast skills?

There is a pillow thing glued to the top of the toilet seat. The opening is not large, and this is going to be a goddamn nightmare. I can see my thighs getting very toned, which is good. But that is the only foreseeable good. For a brief moment I weighed the move-back-in-with-mom-and-dad option. My senses weren't far enough gone to make that seem like a good idea, but oh my god. What next?!

At the same time, this is one of the aunts' dad, and they can't not accommodate him, you know? I am not the kind of family that he is, and though he scares me and I generally don't want to think about him I don't want him to be uncomfortable or have a hard time getting around.

There's also the having to get past him to do laundry thing, which I circumvented last time by going through the garage (since his door wouldn't open; I assume he locked it), but that's not exactly ideal either. In part because he scares me I'm not comfortable just walking through his room, and when I do I have to maneuver the laundry basket around his furniture.

Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Breathe in, breathe out.

Just got home...

...From buying my Jimmy Eat World ticket. This is the first time I've gone to a concert by myself and I am a little nervous about that but thrilled. Mostly thrilled. Let's say the nerves are just there for show.

Woo! A week from now I will heading out for the concert!

The ol' Frustration

My mom and I get along a lot better than we used to (and generally we get along much better when we don't live together), but I'm pretty upset with her right now. When I tried to explain why I was unhappy, she responded in a way that I really, really didn't appreciate. She later wrote more without swearing.

One of the things that I like to attribute to my mom is my ability to stand up to people. But this is only other people, and honestly I'm not that good at it. I've made progress in the last few years, but that progress was all after effing things up pretty terribly by not standing up to people for the few years before. Anyway. I'm an only child and when I argued with my parents as a teenager they were right. Alright, they're my parents. But that taught me over time the futility of arguing anything, and for awhile that really messed me up. I am still scared to disagree with them outloud.

There's also lingering resentment on my part about the way my mom and I seem to remember different the circumstances of my leaving home. Usually we have a great time together and laugh a lot and hey, that stuff's in the past and we're better now. It doesn't bubble up... except the times when we're not better. I love Josh and I love my dad and I love my best friends, and when those people upsets me it hurts, really bad sometimes, but there is no one who cuts quite as deep as my mom, and no one who makes me cry as often as she does. She's not a terrible person and in many ways she's a great mom, the best mom. There are plenty of times when we make each other laugh until our sides hurt. And given the precedent set by her family, I'm glad we're even in touch; she doesn't talk with her mom and the why of that has never been discussed.

I don't feel like our disagreements are fair, and I don't like how she's able to reasonably treat her friends or sister when they point out that she's hurt their feelings, but when dad or I disagree with her it's okay for her to swear and demean and talk to us like we're idiots. If someone is not getting your point (They are smart people, but I've seen my parents talk to one another and completely miss what the other was trying to get across before-- mom invariably gets angry, or at least what I think of as angry), try to explain. I know I go crazy sometimes when Josh doesn't understand what I'm saying, but I try to stick with it and let the wave crash on the rock and get over it after, you know? Mom doesn't stay mad forever but her rages are terrible. I don't think she has any idea what she sounds like when she is angry.

Anyway. It's harder to speak up to my parents than it is anyone else. I don't know if they know that. I'd imagine they don't or don't care in the moment of disagreement, because they can seem pretty angry at me just for disagreeing.

I love my family, and I wouldn't trade them. Thinking of times in my life when I lied about them to make them seem like more interesting people now seems stupid; there are plenty of fascinating things about them and there is a lot to love about my mom and my dad. They've taken care of me. I hope we'll all be happier as our lives go on because our family is small and I believe it's important to all of us.

ETA: Got an "I'm sorry I overreacted to what I feel is an overreaction on your part" message, which is
fair enough.

In the midst of things

In the midst of things (and really it's hardly as though the happiness is an island), life seems better than okay lately. School is demanding but not depressingly so, work is demanding but not depressingly so... I guess I'm just feeling buoyant.

(Fuck trees, I climb buoys, mother fucker!)

Got off the phone with Josh a few minutes ago, and it was a fun, long conversation. Love him, love those. My French homework is all done, and tomorrow I will hopefully come home from a shopping expedition with a chair for the desk. It will be so much better to have a surface to spread stuff out when I'm doing work for school. The desk has two shelves on the right side, coming out from that side's legs, and they're convenient for my little stash of writing implements and my notebooks and of course the textbooks themselves.

Financial aid disbursed (quickly!), so I used the money to buy the last outstanding textbook, Reconstructing Human Origins. I think the class it's for is going to be my favorite. Lots of specificity and skeletal emphasis and terms in Latin so I feel hella smart. Truly, what else is college about? I guess some people don't study bones but I feel they're missing out. More or less in that interest I'm going to join the anthropology club at school. I signed up to go to the first field trip, to Ponce Inlet and Turtle Mound. They're not very far from home and I don't think I've been to either before. Should be fun. I've also got all the upcoming lectures I know about on my calendar, and I'd like to go to as many as possible. I wish that I had been brave enough to do these things two years ago.

A lot of my free thought time is devoted to what's going to happen in May. The registrar's office is continuing to withhold the commencement dates for individual colleges, apparently just because it's amusing when students go into a panic. I'm convinced the university not-so-secretly just lives for that. My mom is the chairwoman for Relay for Life in the area where my parents live, and commencement weekend and Relay weekend are one and the same this year. If I could just figure out when my college is graduating (Friday morning, Friday morning!), I can let mom know, and I can figure out when I can be moving.

I'd planned on starting the road trip north the day after commencement, and I think that's how it will end up happening. That won't really leave any time for extended goodbyes or post-graduation parties with my friends and family in Florida, so maybe we can do something in advance. I'm really hoping my ceremony will be Friday morning, and then I can try to have lunch or dinner with friends. Patriet are coming, and my parents (mom said she'd be there even if it was Saturday-- originally she said she wasn't and later my feelings were really hurt, but later she said of course she'd be there), and hopefully Josh's parents. And Josh, of course.

More later.