Packing all my shit into the car was surprisingly easy. Perhaps too easy. I predict that something will happen along the way to college tomorrow that will substantially lengthen the trip. Why? Because nothing is that easy- no such thing as a free lunch.
Preview to Myth # 7: Hikaris prefer light, bright colors like pink or yellow. Yamis prefer dark colors like black or navy.
What do you guys think? I'll give you all a bit of a break to think on this because #1: I have to get to bed right now. I'm exhausted. #2: Moving in, unpacking, and then rising from the dead the next day to help move in freshman will NOT BE FUN. There could be a good couple day break until the next post. Therefore, it is up to you to think carefully and deeply about the above. Is it a myth? Reality? Comment and impress me with your knowledge.
The following clip makes me think of Marlie because it's our favorite.
Friday, August 31
Off to College
Thursday, August 30
19 Most Epic Internet Memes of All Time
This is my latest effort to distract myself from the mountain of crap that is me packing. Below is a list, unordered, of the top 19 greatest memes ever. If you've heard of 5, you're average. If you've heard of 10, you're net-savvy. If you've heard of 15, you're online way too much. If you've heard of all 19, you go on 4-chan and should say something so I know there are other /b/tards out there.
1. Star Wars Kid
You can't have a meme list without mentioning the Star Wars kid. It all started out as a school project back in the 90's, with this kid swinging around a golf club and pretending to be Darth Vader. I should mention that he's a fat ass, which makes the video extra funny. According to Wikipedia, this video is the most popular of all time with an estimated 90 million views (more thanks to YouTube). The kid actually sued his friends in 2003 for a shitload of money, claiming the video had ruined his self-esteem or something like that.
2. All Your Base
This animation is from a bad Japanese-to-English translation from a crappy videogame called Zero Wing that made in like 1989. The animation and making fun of it actually caught on sometime in 2000 or 2001. It's legendary. It's epic. If you haven't seen it, you're automatically disqualified from connecting to the Internet. Go watch it or GTFO, man.
3. Badger Badger Badger
Awesome flash video that that nerd was watching in your 7th grade Word Processing class. That was me. The basic concept? A video with badgers doing calisthenics, mushrooms, and a snake put into legendary song version. Everyone should experience this song long enough to be able to sing it later without a problem.
4. The End of the World Cartoon
A friend and I at one point in life has this cartoon memorized. It's a very simple concept. What would happen if everyone fired missiles at each other? What would the reactions be? Best of all, the cartoon is narrated in a kickass accent. Awesome.
5. Hamster Dance
I think this damn animation page went up in like 1995. Let's check Wikipedia... 1998. Close enough. All this page consisted of was rows upon rows of animated gifs of hamsters dancing to a sped-up version of "Whistle Stop". It was the result of a bet between two sisters to see who could generate the most web traffic. If this won, I hate to see what the other sister made, sheesh. In 2007, Cnet voted this the most popular Internet meme.
6. Numa Numa Video
This video always reminds me of the Star Wars kid. Instead of a golf club lightsaber and a fat kid, we have the song Dragostea din tei and... well, a different fat kid. In the clip, an American named Gary Brolsma lip-syncs to this song. And he does a fairly good job of it too. Isn't it weird what becomes viral on the Net?
7. Chuck Norris Facts
- The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
- Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
- There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of animals Chuck Norris has allowed to live.
- Chuck Norris is the reason Waldo is hiding.
- When Chuck Norris does a pushup, he isn't lifting himself up, he's pushing the Earth down.
A toy born in 2006 that sounds simple but requires skill to master. The object: draw a line that a little man on a sled can slide down. If you draw it too steep, he might not make his way up. If you draw it at an impossible anger, he's going to crash and die. There are an incredible number of videos online with complicated stunts and loops all set to music. EPIC, my friends.
9. Giant Enemy Crab
The producer Bill Ritch claimed that Genji 2's battles were based on "famous battles which actually took place in ancient Japan". The gameplay shown after contained a "giant enemy crab" seemingly indicating that the game had a more fantasy-based premise, rather than history-based. Popular memes from the portion included "You attack its weak point for massive damage" and "Real-time… weapon change" (which was not a large advancement by any means). Memes were also created from Kaz Hirai saying "PS3 means real change" directly before, and the quote "Genji is an action game based on famous battles which actually took place in Ancient Japan"; the quote was ironic because action games based on Japanese history are quite numerous, and obviously no "Giant Enemy Crabs" exist in Japan, ancient or otherwise.
Also included in this section is the infamous shout of "Riiiiiiiidge Racer!" It felt silly to put that as #10 by itself. This whole presentation was just amazing. And by amazing, I mean complete ass.
10. Evolution of Dance
I saw this video maybe two years ago. My goddamn grandmother sent it to me, but for once, it wasn't a completely worthless email. The guy in the video dances in every style you can imagine to different music. Really, really cool.
11. Chocolate Rain
Though only recently posted (April 2007), Chocolate Rain is already a meme in a big way. It's performed by Tay Zonday, and though he looks like he's maybe 10, he's actually 25. I'm warning you- this song will get stuck in your head FOREVER. The remixes are amazing, and I suggest you go out and find one. Not that the original's that "bad". I love how this weirdo leans out from the microphone to breathe in and alerts viewers of this fact, haha.
12. Peanut Butter Jelly Time
Okay, you should all know this video. It came out in early 2000 and made use of the Banana Man (also known as the Dancing Banana). It took the basic animation, which had been used on messageboards for a while already, and set it to music called "Peanut Butter Jelly Time" (repeating the chorus) by the Buckwheat Boyz.
13. Goatse.cx
Perhaps the first shock meme (and slightly more infamous than the zombie car commercial), Goatse.cx was a link posted on forums that was designed to lure innocent, unsuspecting people to a web site with the picture hello.jpg. It's an extremely rude, and funny, image of some guy with an enormously stretched asshole with his junk and tool hanging in plain view. Gorgeous. Goatse.cx was officially taken down sometime in 2004, but it made reemergences later on. Right now, I think the domain's up for sale.
14. Banana Phone
A gruesome, poorly drawn Flash video straight from Ebaum's World that tells the story of 3 roommates driven insane by a Banana Phone song. I definitely have this video memorized. According to Wikipedia, the original song was made in 1994. It has some strange lyrics.
"Cellular, modular, interactive-odular!"
15. Do a barrel roll!
And now starts the shit you may never have heard of before. Originating from Star Fox 64, the phrase "do a barrel roll!" is a popular meme on places like YTMND and 4chan. Often, it's given as advice to problems that require quite a lot of thought.
16. Lol Cats
Involving cat pictures with lowercase badly-spelled captions. Often featured on 4chan on Saturday (known as Caturday- "post some fucking cats!"). All you get are the following examples.
From Encyclopedia Dramatica:
There came a day when Raptor Jesus walked with His disciples in a city. They passed many people, and Raptor Jesus would state "They are Anonymous, they are the masses. They are many, and yet they are one. They are quick to judge, and their wrath is terrible." Then Raptor Jesus and His disciples came across a man painting a mural. Raptor Jesus studied the man's work for a time, and then turned to his disciples.
"Animated," he said.
19. 300
300 is an epic movie that is supposed to be a colossal retelling of the Battle of Thermapylae. I heard it was good. Before that, I heard the following:
And last, but not least:
Tomorrow I'll try to post a myth for you to bust/argue in favor for. 'Try' is the key word because it's the day before I leave for school and I need to shop, finish packing, see relatives one last time before I leave, and so on and so forth.
Elise & Alyssa: The New Stress Comedy
Housing this year is going to be interesting.
And I'm not sure if i mean good-interesting or bad-interesting.
For one thing, my room mates are all pretty weird. I've told you about Rachel, the god-loving one who might up and leave us to become a missionary eventually. She's rooming with a girl who's in our six-person suite, but she was going to originally room with me. Her name's Stacy. I thought I would be rooming with her, and all was good until she suddenly decided she wanted to room with Rachel instead. I think I know why. Stacy and I weren't very close last year because she lived in a different building. She hung out with Rachel more than with me. In my defense, however, Stacy's pretty freaking weird. She has this really creepy giggling laugh that gets on my nerves occasionally, she's decided recently that she likes coloring like a six-year-old again, and she's best friends with a girl who I hate. Hopefully, the name of that person won't become important this year. Ugh. Can anyone see the massive slide down into drama?
My room mate, of course, is Elise, the crazy anime nut, and I was thinking until last night that things are looking up on that front. We were both talking about how excited we were. I thought to myself, "Maybe this year won't be as bad as I thought living with Elise." And that's when she said, "Uh, Alyssa? I have a problem, can I talk to you about it?"
"Sure..."
Elise is close with two people who kind of annoy me, but that's okay. Whatever. Her two bestest friends are Nico (Nicole, really, and she's a squealy anime nut like Elise, except tinier, which makes her much more high-pitched) and Matt (who's on crew team with us and not hot but Elise has a crush on him). Apparently, Nico and Elise have a crush on Matt, who may or may not have a crush on either of them. Yet he knows that Nico and Elise like him. Yes, as in like.
I was like, "Uhhh? What do you want me to do?"
It turns out that Elise really really really wants Matt (what was the phrase she used? oh yes, if she let Nico have him, she'd "loose her sanity". The typo killed me as well), but so might Nico. Maybe. See, Elise hasn't exactly talked to her friend about this. I told her she ought to talk to Nico and jointly decide who should go after Matt. She said, "Oh no, that would be so awkward." I was like "Wha? Have you never had one of those conversations?" She kept saying, "it would be so awkward, so awkward, blah blah" and at this point I realized she was thick. Probably thicker than Marlie because my yami and I have had this talk successfully. If you're in a similar situation to Elise and you don't talk it out with your friend, you're either going to lose your friend or the boy or both.
I finally asked if she wanted the truth given to her straight, and she said yes. I unleashed, as my mother says, my "full opinion without the mincing of words that polite people do".
(2:18:58 AM) Alyssa: this is what real friends do, they tell you the truth, and I'm going to deal it to you straight, girl
(2:19:02 AM) Alyssa: you're being a coward
(2:19:06 AM) Alyssa: an absolute coward.
(2:19:10 AM) Alyssa: it's easy to choose between two people
(2:19:14 AM) Alyssa: maybe not easy, but easier
(2:19:18 AM) Alyssa: than compromising with both
(2:19:25 AM) Alyssa: the choice here is clear-cut
(2:20:02 AM) Alyssa: 1. you don't talk to your two friends about the situation. you neatly avoid it and let it pass overhead. After months of agonizing wait and awkwardness, the situation blows up and you either lose one or both.
(2:20:32 AM) Alyssa: 2. you talk to one, or both, about the situation. I'd recommend talking to Nicole. You decide who gets him. That girls tries to get him. If he refuses, she lost and the other girl tries for him. Simple.
(2:20:38 AM) Alyssa: Those are the two choices.
(2:20:55 AM) Alyssa: you gotta choose
(2:21:16 AM) Alyssa: and I'd rather you choose the 'brave' option that will end better so that I don't end up with you crying on my shoulder, okay? that's the last thing I want.
(2:21:18 AM) Alyssa: : (
(2:21:35 AM) Elise: okay... I guess I'll work something out
Then again, it's hard to criticize someone else's problems when you definitely have your own. At least Elise was brave enough to talk about it with me. I haven't told anyone but you guys. Aren't you just the lucky ones?
Question: Have you ever been in the type of fix Elise is in now? How did you proceed and how did it turn out? Did you lose a friend, gain a boy, or both or neither?
Wednesday, August 29
What to Bring to College
Okay, it’s 10AM and I’ve just woken up. I stayed up until 2 trying to figure out what choice I should make. I think the Anonymous who commented was right- I have to make the effort to put this behind me. Gregg could have called me if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He didn’t call me once the whole summer when he probably had a thousand opportunities to sneak away and give me a call from his cell, or maybe call me once from work on a break. But he didn’t. I need to wake up and take the hint. He’s probably not ever going to call again.
The thing I’m most worried about though is that he’ll call in like a year or so as soon as I’ve gotten over him and stopped thinking about him daily. I’m afraid he’ll call and say “Hey! How are you?” and my mending heart will be snapped into at least four pieces again and I’ll go “Good. How are you?”.
I freaking hate men. In my opinion, lesbians have it easy. Women, I could deal with. Damn you, God, that you didn’t make me attracted to them.
In other news, I’ve finally begun packing for college. I had a small box together with the essentials that I hadn’t unpacked, but the rest of it has been a real bitch to get together. I still need to find some Tylenol. I know I bought a bottle, but damned if it isn’t buried somewhere. Hopefully, it’s buried in one of my bags.
You know what I hate? College lists that try to be like “Things You Never Would Have Thought Of to Bring to College”. They’re never original. Ever. Why? Because everyone thinks of them. The following is my version of a Things You Never Would Have Thought to Bring to College, and my version really is things you wouldn’t think of.
Eight Things You Would Never Think to Bring to College
(with helpful pictures!)
1. Folding Chair of any kind.
If you’re ever going to make friends in college, you need for them to have somewhere to sit other than your bed. That fills up real fast. The desk chairs get taken up as well. I would recommend buying a couple folding chairs, actually, not just one. It depends how many friends you want to keep.
2. Yearbook
Don’t bring this item right away. If you make a group of friends, bring a yearbook back with you after winter break. You should all compare how bad your yearbooks are and why you weren’t in as many pictures as you’d like. It’s fun.
3. Hackeysack
Also known as the Insta-Friend for guys. Girls can bring one as well, but have you ever noticed how easily guys bond when they’re playing a sport together? I picked hackeysack because it has the smallest ball, but I suppose a soccer ball or a basketball would work as well.
4. Tissue Boxes (at least 4)
Why? Not because you’ll need to jerk off in college. Gross. Who thought that? You need the tissue boxes because the college bookstore will rip you off like no other when you get a cold in October and go through your first little travel packet of tissues. At my bookstore, they charge $4 a box. $4. Do you realize how ridiculous that is? This year, I’m bringing my tissues from home and I’m going to enjoy it, damnit.
5. One Plain T-shirt
Somewhere, somehow along the line, no matter what clubs or sororities or groups you join, you will be forced to make a spirit t-shirt. If you want to get really classy, get a plain t-shirt with the colors of your school. Last year I had to make three such shirts- one for orchestra, one for crew, and one for our school basketball team (which I wasn’t even a part of). You’ll need this. Bring it.
6. Frisbee
Yet another way to make friends. It’s similar to the hackeysack, but not quite. Throwing a firsbee around takes up more room, so you get more people to see you more. More exposure to people means more eventual friends.
7. Miniature Sudoku book
Deathly important. When you’re bored as shit in your classes and can barely stay awake, I’ve found that Sudoku books make you look like you’re conscious and gives the impression that you’re taking notes. If your professor sees you doing them (not that that’s ever happened (cough)), insist that you have a mild case of ADHD and that you focus better when your hands have something to do while you listen. It works wonders.
8. Whiteboard Calendar
No, I’m not talking about the little whiteboard hangs outside your door. I’m talking about the above. This deceptively simple system is what kept me on top of meetings, classes, assignments, and due dates for anything. This is the best thing you could ever get to organize yourself in college. Get it.
People will probably find this as they search for what to bring to college. If you have any suggestions for things that are really, truly forgotten to bring to college, add a comment and help out the freshman!
Tuesday, August 28
Phone Conversation
Marlie: "Hey."
Me: "Hi! How's stuff?"
"My room and my roommate are total ass."
"Er... why?"
"My room is right next to the cafeteria. It smells like meat all day and I don't like it. My roommate is a slut. I hope she won't fuck in my bed."
"Hope not. Classes?"
"More ass, with one bright spot."
"On the ass?"
"Exactly. Every professor looks boring except for one. The guy's grade-A gay. We have a bunch of jocks in the class. There's me and one other girl. He is so fucked."
"Maybe he's not gay?"
"He wore a Logo t-shirt the first day."
"So he's hardcore gay."
"Uh-huh. Plus, he's having sex with his TA."
"How do you know this?"
"Instinct."
"Marlie. You're thick."
"I'm sure on this point. Or does ass-slapping and raucous giggling only pertain to heterosexual friendships?"
"Maybe..."
"I have to go. Roomie's home." (Pause) "Oh, excellent. She's brought someone home with her. I think this is a prime opportunity to ask how her genital herpes flareup is doing."
"She has herpes?"
"No. Bye."
"Bye!"
More on the Gregg situation before I do anything tomorrow morning. Thanks for the kind comments and emails that are giving me insightful input.
And the Truth Comes Out
I've been fretting over something for the past few days, a fact you could probably pull from the sometimes-hurried, infrequent posting. I've come to a decision on the matter. I'm not sure it's the right choice to make. I want your opinions on this. This is one of my big, dark deep secrets that I've told no one- not even Marlie.
It all started in February 2006 when I was looking for a job. I applied at several different places: Staples, the local dollar store, Genuardi's, etc. You name it, I applied there. I also put in an application at a place called Give Me 10. It was a ten-dollar-and-under store that had just opened that month and they were looking for people. I had no experience with any job, ever, but they took me.
It was one of the best things that ever happened to me in my life.
Because I'm a hard worker, I don't complain about cleaning, and I do a good, thorough, and thoughtful job of things, I was quickly loved by my managers. Managers came and went, but in the end there were always three: Lucy, the general manager that oversaw everything; Brian, the slacker manager that managed to get things done anyway; and Gregg, the manager who arranged every single shelf and hook in that store. Gregg was also the manager I fell in love with.
So far, you're all like "Well... he may have been your manager, but he was only a few years older than you, right?"
WRONG. Lucy was in her 40's. Adam was 27. Gregg was 34.
I was 17 when I started working there. He was 34. That's a 17 year difference. Twice my age. Maybe that kind of age gap wasn't a problem back in the 1800's or whatever, but I know it's weird today. Only celebrities can get away with that kind of thing. But what was the weirdest part of the whole matter? It didn't seem weird to me.
It's not like he was some kind of lech coming onto me in a gross way. First, we became partners. I was his righthand girl for any project that we had going on in the store. He trusted me, and I liked that feeling. If there was a whole department to redo or restock, he entrusted it to me and knew I would get it done and do a good job on it. If he needed someone to help him clean up the store, he knew I would do it and wouldn't complain.
Then we became friends. We would stand up at the front of the store when it wasn't busy and talk for hours at a time. About anything. About nothing. About everything. I would tell him how my love life sucked and I had no one to take to prom (it was senior year). He would tell me how his wife was giving him a hard time and they kept getting into arguments.
Uh. Did I mention Gregg was married? Yeah. Moving on.
Gregg and I would talk about anything. Johnny Depp movies, Superman comics, horse racing, abortion, the future, where I was going to college, etc. We were just friends, plain and simple. It was so easy to be myself around him because we had the same blatant, sometimes off-color sense of humor. He was funny. He thought I was funny.
Don't make the mistake of thinking he was hot. He really wasn't. He was okay-looking, I guess, but that's not what I was attracted to. I had met a soul like mine. I, of all people, know what that feels like. Marlie is the other half of my soul, but I recognized something in Gregg that goes deeper than looks, age, or even marriage. This man was someone I could love.
When I realized how I was thinking of Gregg, I was more than slightly disturbed with myself. Was I gross? Was I disgusting? Was it wrong to be in love with someone so unlike me, so much further ahead in life than me? Ugh. I didn't tell Marlie. I feel like I can tell her anything, but this was something I felt I should keep to myself.
Even as I was debating my feelings, Gregg's attitude toward me changed a bit. One day, I opened the breakroom fridge to get my lunch out, and I saw there was a 6-pack of blue Powerades. Blue Powerade is my favorite drink in the entire world.
Gregg rounded the corner and saw me trying to determine if they were saved or for the public (aka, me). He grinned. "Go ahead. I got them for you."
"Me?" I was surprised.
He shrugged. "They're your favorite. They were on sale. I saw them and thought of you."
Gradually, in a way that I hardly noticed, we began flirting back and forth. Gregg began joking that we couldn't say anything incriminating until my 18th birthday (which was that April 1rst, it was late March by this time).
For my birthday, Gregg made sure all the managers were available after the store closed at 8. He bought me an all-chocolate cake with some icing on top, like I'd said was my favorite sometime in our conversations. He also got me three DVD's, all with Johnny Depp in them (my favorite actor): Pleasantville, Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, and Edward Scissorhands. (I would be needing them because I was going to get my wisdom teeth out the next day.)
Everyone sang happy birthday to me, and they all gave me a hug, but I knew the whole thing was prepared by Gregg and Gregg alone. It made me feel unbearably special. The next day, I underwent surgery and had my wisdom teeth out with no problems, but I still had to stay home for a couple days. Gregg texted me and asked "How do you feel?" and that began the texting era of our relationship. It was fun to go back and forth when he was bored at work and I was bored/in pain at home. We continued texting even when we were both back at work.
We continued teasing each other and flirting, really, until one day when our whole team of managers went out to dinner. We were celebrating the fact that I was becoming a manager (thanks in no small part to Gregg's urging). I didn't know where the restaurant was, so Gregg offered to drive me from work and then drive me back to my car afterwards. We all went out to eat and had a good time, joking about things and laughing as Brian flirted with one of the waitresses. Gregg, of course, sat next to me in the booth. I have the feeling that Brian and Lucy knew how Gregg and I felt about each other. It was hard to hide, harder to deny, and impossible to wave off all together.
That night, when Gregg drove me back to my car (by ourselves, it was around 10 PM and the parking lot was deserted except for us), we accidentally kissed. It truly was accidental. We hugged and I got in my car and tried to start the engine, which sucked. Finally, with my door still open, I got the car going and looked up.
"Bye. See you tomorrow."
"Bye, Lys." Gregg leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek, but I'd already turned my head forward to look where I was going. The result was a kiss on the lips, very gentle and extremely quick. We both pulled away, gasping and looking at each other in slight terror. There had been an electric shock like nothing I'd ever felt before. I'd kissed boys before, most recently my former boyfriend of a year and a half, but I'd never gotten that much out of a kiss. Kissing, to me, was not an orgasmic experience.
Obviously, I'd never kissed the right someone.
I was so shocked that I closed the door and left without saying a word. It was so horrible. I gunned it out of that parking lot like I was running from a pack of wolves. I got a text message by my first light.
G: "Sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry. I tease, but I never meant to do that."
Me: "Me neither. I'm completely sorry. I didn't mean to run off either, I was just so..."
G: "Did you feel that?"
Me: "The kiss?"
G: "There was something in it..."
Me: "Yeah. But I can't. We can't. We can't ever. Sorry."
Even after this, we continued to flirt with each other. It didn't matter what I said, my body would betray me by brushing up against him as I walked by the counter, or my hand would flit to touch his shoulder when I approached. I couldn't help myself.
So when, a few weeks before I was going to leave for school, late in August, he said quietly to me, "I think I'm in love with you.", I wasn't surprised. But I was absolutely freaked out.
Do you see the gradual descent into god-knows-what? I don't know how it could have gone differently. There was just this irresistible, magnetic pull between us. Later, I texted him and confirmed I was in love with him too. This wasn't pure lust. I knew lust. This was something else (with some lust, naturally). Even as I said I loved him, I told him that I could never be with him. That I wasn't willing to throw away my life, to possibly be ostracized by my family and friends (I wasn't worried about Marlie. She would have accepted it... if there had been something). That I was going to go to school in New York, which was about 3 hours from my home town.
We made the most of the last 2 weeks we had. We went out to lunch. We went out to dinner. At one point, when I couldn't have the car and neither of my parents could drive me to work, he went out of his way and picked me up.
The whole time, however, his wife was getting pissed. He told me long ago that she was always the jealous type. She would accuse anyone and everyone he worked with, and usually it was completely unfounded. In this case, okay, she had guessed correctly, but he argued with her. I always felt bad, like I was interrupting something they had, but he assured me that if it wasn't me, she would be jealous of the post office clerk, or the supermarket bagger, or a waitress in a restaurant.
Eventually, I went away to school. Gregg and I made a bet, an unspoken agreement that I'd have to come back in November's break, in December's break, in the following summer. He bet $20 that I'd put on more than the Freshman 15 pounds. I bet it would either be less or that I'd lose weight. It didn't matter to me whether I won/lost. It only mattered that I'd come back and work at Give Me 10 once more.
I didn't talk to Gregg much over the fall. I was busy with my room mates, with crew, with so much new stuff that I could only send the occasional email to him. When I came back in November for break, I was so excited that I could hardly stand it. So was Gregg! I only worked about two days because my break was a week long.
Gregg, however, had some news to drop. In the middle of a fight, his wife had thrown out that she was pregnant. One pregnancy test later, he discovered she was telling the truth. He was going to be a father. He was excited. So was I. You may think that weird, but I was so happy that he was happy. I knew there was no future in our relationship. I was glad he'd finally gotten along better with his wife (sort of) and that he could live happily.
Right before I came home in December, I got the following email:
Hey,
The ultrasound went well. The baby is about the size of a walnut at this point. You could see it moving around...it was really cool! Anyway, Judy has a test on Monday to check for Downs Syndrome and other Chromosomal abnormalities....Hopefully all will go well...I'm really nervous about this one...there's a 1 in 200 chance of miscarriage so you can imagine how I'm feeling.
I have you scheduled to work 3-close on Thurs, Fri, and Saturday when you get home.
Glad to hear that you are having fun at school and that you are getting "action." I'm sure the boys can't keep away!
Good luck with your finals and have a safe trip home.
See you Thursday!
GreggThen my dad made me send a reply back asking if I could get out of work on Sunday to go visit my extremely senile grandmother for Christmas. I didn't want to and begged Gregg to tell me I absolutely had to work on Sunday.
Hey,
The test went well. We will have the results in about a week. Judy is a little sore and uncomfortable but otherwise everything is looking good.
You are, in fact, working on Sunday. You are scheduled 12 to close (6:30) and there is nobody to replace you.
And for the record...e-mailing you back is not an inconvienance.
Hope your exams went well. Me and you closing tomorrow...See you then.
GreggWhat I would give to go back to those times...
The day after Christmas, our overhead boss announced that the store would be closing down. We had made it almost a year, but Give Me 10 was dead. I got a call from Lucy that morning telling me the news and asking if I wanted to go out to breakfast with her and Gregg (it was about 9 in the morning). I mumbled yes (having not been awake before) and got myself dressed as quickly as possible. It was a sad little breakfast that involved us all moping. We'd enjoyed our jobs, for chrissakes. How rare is that?
Two days later, I went into the store to pick up my paycheck. Gregg was there, watching some random workmen take down all the shelves, all the displays, everything we'd worked so hard to painstakingly arrange for almost a year. We said goodbye, and he promised he would talk to me when summer came so he could collect on his bet and we could go out of lunch/dinner. We hugged, kissed each other on the cheek, got into our respective cars and left.
I haven't seen or heard from him since. I emailed him a few times, but my email bounced back. He'd changed his email? I didn't dare to text him because it got him in trouble with his wife. Finally, in April, right on my birthday when I thought he would call but didn't, I sent him a text message. It bounced back. He'd changed his cell phone number. And I knew that recently, he'd moved to a larger house (he'd told me about it back in November). So, in full-stalking mode, I looked up where he lived. It was only 35 minutes from me. I got the phone number that went with the address. And I waited... all summer... for him to call.
You can call me obsessive, I don't care. I guess the lack of closure is just killing me. I need to know- how is he? Is he still married? How's the baby? Is it a boy or a girl? Did it live for god's sake? I can't take the suspense. He wasn't just someone I loved, he was my friend for almost a year and I miss him unbearably. In May, when I got out of school, I thought maybe he just didn't know when my classes were over. In June, I thought he'd call. In July, I thought he'd call. In August... I thought he'd call before I go back to school. But here it is, August 28, and nothing.
Tomorrow, I'll have the opportunity to drive to his house without anyone knowing. I hate to sound so stalkerish, but I need there to be an end to this. There has to be an official ending. It's keeping me up at night, and I hate that he can do that even after I haven't talked to him for eight months.
Please give me your full opinion on the matter... and what I should do about it.
Should I...
a. forget about him? It's painful, yes, but I need to put the past behind me. What's done is done. He obviously hasn't contacted me because he doesn't care anymore.
b. drive over to his house? His overly-jealous wife may have prevented him from contacting me and he really misses me too. Maybe I wouldn't get to see him... but I could be within a few feet of where he's been.
c. drive over to his house, ring the doorbell, and see who answers? If it's his wife, I'm in major trouble. If it's him, I'm probably still in major trouble.
d. not drive over to his house but give him a call? I can call from a disposable cell phone so I can't be tracked. If his wife picks up, I hang up and no one knows anything. If he picks up, I say hello.
Monday, August 27
Interesting Discovery
I've just stumbled over something that pretty cool: Tubesnow.com.
If you go there (as you should), you'll discover a program called Tubes. Download it. What this nifty, innovative little program does is hold all the 'tubes' you've subscribed to. A tube in this context is basically a big dumping pot that can be between only you and a friend or between you and the world. Make a tube (public or private) and add things like word documents, mp3's, pictures, powerpoint presentations, etc. to it by drag-and-drop. Once you add it to the tube, whoever has access to that tube can also download it. It's kind of like sharing your desktop with someone else. As the site claims: FTP was so Web 1.0.
There's not much interesting on it yet, but bookmark this site and check back every so often. The potential for this kind of program is staggering. Diggnation's already leaped on board by advertising for it (and maintaining a Diggnation tube of its own). I would suggest subscribing to a tube I found that apparently started just today: The Best of BakuraRyou Fanfiction. Eh-pic, my friends.
Here's the description.
This tube will hoard the best of Bakura and Ryou fanfiction, be it yaoi or simply friends. You probably won't see too much angst, but I guarantee you'll see loads of romance. Email Aithril@gmail.com to submit a story you think should be included in this tube. I update once or twice a week with a new story or later chapters of an old one.
Subscribe to this tube to have the best of BakuraRyou fanfiction downloaded to your desktop automatically. Read it offline, print it out and take it somewhere, it's all up to you! Fanfiction has never been more mobile.
Awesomeness. No doubt they'll also put up some pictures, episode clips, and music eventually. Join to support their genius idea!
Sunday, August 26
Jesus Freaks
John
John is a Jesus freak. He thinks like Jesus. He looks like Jesus. He should just be Jesus and get it over with. For some odd reason... I went out with him. Yeah, okay, mistake. And we definitely fooled around a bit. MISTAKE. Ugh. John's okay, but he loves his religion more than he loves any woman, and that will be his downfall. After me, he moved on to my friend Rachel, who I might as well get into now (just like he tried to!)
Rachel
Another Jesus freak. At the moment, she's stuck between going to our college or abandoning it and moving to Florida to become a missionary. Seriously. And she loves Jesus! It sounds like Rachel and John were a match made in heaven, true. Yet it turned out that Rachel loves God more than John and she felt he was interfering with her holy relationship. He loves God more than he loves her, too, but God doesn't have half the set of knockers Rachel has.
That being said, Rachel is one of the sweetest girls I know. She's going to live in my six-person suite next year.
Brian
A guy friend. He's built like a tank, if a bit on the heavy tank side, and occasionally annoys me, but would support me nevertheless. He's cool.
Shawn
A guy friend who normally doesn't run in the same circles I do. I run in the nerd-computer-geek circles. He runs in the drunk-partying-theater-group circles. Mysteriously enough, he seems to be attracted to me, which he demonstrates in the awkward way of deliberately elbowing into me whenever we run into each other. Literally. I hate it when boys suck at flirting. He's a beautiful boy, but I lost interest in him ages ago. Time for him to get over me.
Those are probably the most important players in my college life. Now we just have about five more days until I get there. I talked to Marlie today and she's happy. Moving in. Adjusting to dorm life again once more.
Uh, so speaking of Jesus:
The Leads
There’s a big group of vibrantly different people centered around my college life, and I’ll try my best to touch on them all, but I’m only going to cover three at a time or you would get completely lost.
Liam
My best friend at school. He’s a big computer and anime geek with an intense appreciation for cat girls, and I’m really close to him. Really close. He feels like he’s my little brother. Actually, more like my little sister. Liam has a girlfriend, but she definitely wears the pants in the relationship. Not just emotionally and mentally, but physically, she acts like a man. That’s not a bad thing. It makes Liam and her perfect for each other, because Liam is the girl and he’s most likely bisexual. I asked him once, and he said he didn’t know, which means “I haven’t had the chance yet, but yes.” Which is fine with me. He’s the sweetest, kindest guy I’ve ever met and I’m extremely thankful to have him as my friend.
Sam
Another close friend of mine from school. Our group of friends think that we’re attracted to each other, and I don’t know about him, but I’m not. Remember how great my sense of smell is? Sam smells damn good. He just does. Plus, I love his hair. It’s straight and yet has volume without him doing anything. But there’s no way I could ever be with him. He has a lot of problems to work out in his life, related with anxiety issues, the friends he hangs out with at home… don’t get me wrong. He’s a good kid. And I care about him a lot. But me and him together together? Uh uh, no way.
Elise
My closest girl friend at school. She’s one of those people who kind of floats through life and is never really on top of things, but I love her anyway. She’s socially awkward and that leads to some embarrassing situations on crew team (of which we’re buddy-buddy at). Nevertheless, Elise is a good person who makes me laugh. She’s an anime freak who occasionally squeals too much. I still say that I love her. This year, for the first time, we’ll be room mates. Will I be able to deal with her odd quirks in a small six by ten foot space? Or will her squeals drive me up the anime poster-laden walls?
Next post: John, Brian, and Shawn. Damn straight you’re excited.
Saturday, August 25
Focus Shift
I apologize for flipping out a little and just generally sounding like a miserable, sulking little girl. It (theoretically) won't happen again, but there's of course no guarantee with that. I will note here, however, that the direction of this journal will be shifting slightly, seeing as Marlie and I are no longer in daily contact. I might not talk about her every day. Just every other day. Instead, the journal will focus more on, well, me. Hopefully you like me enough now to care about whether I live/die/succeed/fail. If you really don't give a shit about me and only want to hear about Marlie, come back December 15th. That's when we both return home for Christmas break.
On the other hand, we now have some exciting new material coming up, including the reunion of all my college friends (who you have yet to meet), school dramas (let's face it, I'm a curly-haired, hazel-eyed Jew going to a just-turned-public former-Catholic institution), and the most epic job search of all time. Because I am poor. Dirt-poor. You'd think that me, being Jewish as I just mentioned, would not have this problem. Oh well. Later tonight I'll post some bios of the people who'll be in my life for the next nine months or so.
I believe the following image will communicate the new focus of Hikari as Not Seen on TV.
Friday, August 24
Just said goodbye...
... to Marlie. She leaves tomorrow morning around 7. I went over tonight and said goodbye. I can't believe that today is August 24th. Wasn't it just yesterday that it was May and I drove over to meet Marlie the minute she came home? And didn't we just go to the beach together? UGH. I had forgotten to take my half of the earrings we bought, so we split them tonight. Then we kind of stared at the floor because neither of us wanted to say it.
She said, "So... bye." and I burst into tears. Big surprise. She hugged me and patted my hair and murmured little things. (She's getting much better at that. It used to be that I would begin to cry and she's just stand awkwardly nearby, heh.)
Just the memory has made me start up again. Short version is that Marlie's gone and I have one more week until I get back to school. Not only that, but I'm PMSing. No one likes a PMS poster (me least of all) so I'm going to save it for tomorrow.
Myth #6
Myth #6. Hikaris are intensely photo-shy. Yamis don't really mind the camera and tolerate it. (Source 1. Source 2.)
Myth votes: 1/2
Truth votes: 1/2
(At least, that's what the one vote seemed like.)
This myth is, in fact, exactly that. Half true, half false. Unfortunately, our one voter got it backwards. The truth is that hikaris are actually photo-shy and not at all photogenic. Really. Not even a little bit photogenic. Every single photo of me turns out horribly. Except that ear picture I posted. I liked that quite a bit, actually.
It's not that I don't like my appearance. In general, I think I'm a pretty girl, occasionally even beautiful when I'm encouraged by effort to put on a little makeup, spend some time on my hair, etc. But somehow, my smile and my eyes get screwed up in pictures. It's a mystery. It makes sense, however, that the few good pictures taken of me have been taken by Marlie.
Marlie is a camera freak. She loves her camera, which has all these funky lenses that do I-don't-even-know-what, but they look cool. And it's not a new digital camera, oh no. This is an old school, it's-possible-to-run-out-of-film camera. Her hobby started in a photography class she took in the eighth grade based on a guidance counselor's recommendation (I really ought to tell you that story sometime, oh boy oh boy) and kinda took off from there. Suddenly I would go over her house, and by the end of the night, I'd be blinded by her flash. Even though I'm not photogenic, I'm her favorite subject. And, occasionally, she scores an awesome photo of me that I squeal about on Facebook.
My favorite photo by her is one where I'm focused on writing, and I have this odd half-smile, half-grimace on my face. It's almost hidden by my hair, which is wild and crazy in that photo. It was a rainy day and that's just spectacular for perfect curls (NOT. It looked like I had an afro.) But still, there's something about that photo that makes me smile when I look at it. That one, and a picture she took on Valentine's Day when she wrote me a really cute best friend's card. I'm wearing this adorable pink shirt that we found in my favorite store and blushing at a shade that almost matches the shirt because what she wrote was so damn cute. I should begin making a collection on here of cards she's created over the years. For someone who doesn't communicate efficiently with others, she would be perfect at Hallmark.
And although Marlie loves to take pictures, she hates having pictures taken of her. She's allowed me to have a few over the years, but this picture is just one of the kind I usually get of her.
An answer to a question I've been asked a few times now: Yes, this journal is anonymous. Yes, I realize you could probably easily trace my IP address and whatnot- but I'd prefer you didn't. Respect my privacy. I'm considering pouring something out in this journal to get it off my chest, something quite personal. Well, very personal. You know it's got to be personal if even Marlie doesn't know...
Anyway, that picture is probably all you'll ever see of Marlie. And that ear of me.
Consider that the anonymous character of this journal allows me, more than ever, to be free and tell the truth. You can revel in the knowledge that every word in this journal, down to the last grain of a period, is absolute truth. Well, except in cases of names. That's part of the anonymity. And except for conversations that happened before I was 10. My memory isn't quite amazing enough to rattle them off like they're verses from the bible and I'm Jesus.
In apology for being late with my entry, below is a goody. If you frown before you laugh, quit taking yourself so seriously! No one else does. If you laugh first, right on.
Wednesday, August 22
The Order of Death
I kept waking myself up last night by rolling onto my left ear. Ouuuuuch.
I'm going to meet with an old friend of mine today around 12:30- Jane Phillips, a high school English teacher who I became very close to. She's looked at most of my writing, critiqued it, and has just supported me in every way. Phillip's actually a brilliant poet. She was made the poet laureate for our county last year. This is the first fall where she's retired from teaching a full-time class. Now she just tutors at the local community school. Mrs. Phillips, unfortunately, has MS, which I'm sure you've all heard of (if not, there's Wikipedia). In the past three years, it's grown much much worse and forced her to quit teaching.
It feels to me like great writers always end up dying young. Isn't that the truth? I don't know if anyone knows Rozefire from the Inuyasha section of FF.net, but I go over to her journal sometimes and I learned that she has MS as well and it's hardly dormant. Edgar Allan Poe died young at 40. Hemingway killed himself when he was 60. Look at this interesting article that I found. Creepy, isn't it? Thank god I stopped writing poetry.
After I'm done chatting with Mrs. Phillips, my mom and I are going college-shopping, probably at Walmart. I need a whole bunch of things, from toiletries to notebooks to rainboots and a heating pad.
Myth #6 Preview: Hikaris are intensely photo-shy. Yamis don't really mind the camera and tolerate it.
The arguments for either side are fairly good in this case. Does that fact that I've never shown a photo of myself mean I'm photo-shy, or it does it mean I merely want to remain anonymous? Does the fact that Marlie didn't want a picture taken of her earring mean she's self-conscious about the piercing or does it mean she hates photos, period. Comment away!
Tuesday, August 21
The Long-Awaited Aibou Day Results
Today was spectacular!
There's nothing like spending a little hikari/yami time to just slow down and take things a minute at a time, you know? We get so caught up in spending time with all our other friends, being at our respective jobs (if we have them), and hanging around with our folks that it's hard sometimes to just sit with each other. You'd think it wouldn't be so difficult, but as they say, life gets in the way of things.
This morning, I picked up my favorite bleary-eyed yami at 9AM and took her to breakfast. It went like this.
"Good morning! Happy Aibou Day!" Insert my enthusiastic hug here.
"Mm."
"Let's go to Manhatten Bagel and then cross the street to Starbucks for some coffee."
"MMMMM!" Insert her enthusiastic hug here.
After she had a bagel and some coffee in her (and I a bagel with creamcheese and some hot chocolate), we came back to my house to watch some, er, House. There's nothing better than watching House with some comfort food and drink. After we watched our favorite episode, it was around 10:30 so we trooped over to the mall to beat the crowd and get our ears pierced. I was slightly terrified, but Marlie was encouraging ("I've heard cartilage piercings don't hurt at all, hikari!") and a liar. Okay, it didn't hurt that much. I barely cried. Here's the end result. The hoop's a little bigger on my ear than I thought it would be. Apparently, I have very small ears (so that lady told me). Marlie inspected my ear and declared it was gorgeous.
In fact, she was so impressed with my piercing that she decided that screw double holes on her lobes, she was getting the same thing as me. I got mine in my left ear. She got hers on her right, not as a hoop, but as a little midnight-blue stud. It looks really pretty, but she wouldn't let me take a picture.
While we were walking back to the car, I took out the little recipe book I'd made and she picked out peanut butter cookies. By then, it was almost 11:30, so we drove to the store, picked up ingredients, and drove to Panera for lunch. It's a bread, soup, and salad place that's absolutely delicious. My favorite combination is a chicken ceasar sandwich with a chicken ceasar salad. Repetitive, yes. Repetitively yummy, yes yes. Marlie prefers the black bean soup in a bread bowl, which is also good.
And now, the most exciting part: what we did for Marlie's afternoon with me. First of all, we climbed into the car and she shoved me out of the seat.
"Hey-"
"Put this on. I'm driving." She held out a blindfold.
"Uh?"
"Just do it." So I slid over into the passenger seat and put on the blindfold, feeling absolutely ridiculous. She started the car and began driving.
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
We must have had that conversation four times at least. The car ride was long! After about an hour, we parked somewhere and I cocked my head. I could hear people screaming and shouting- it sounded like a big ol' crowd. "Where are we?"
"Just wait." I heard her car door slam, and then she was over on my side. "Get out."
I obediently climbed out of the car and stood uncertainly in... somewhere. I tapped my foot on the ground. Concrete. I sniffed the air... popcorn?
"Come on." Marlie's hand caught mine and tugged. I walked after her, feeling for each footstep.
"Heh. Your nostrils are flaring. What do you smell?" She was enjoying this, naturally.
"Popcorn. Exhaust... cotton candy?" I listened hard. My hearing sucks, but I could definitely hear a clacking noise underlying everything. "What is that noise?"
"Hm." I could practically feel the ear-to-ear grin she had on. "You'll see." She stopped me and began talking with some guy.
"Two, please."
"That'll be $44.50."
"Thanks."
"Where are we?" I asked, bemused, and the guy she had been talking to chuckled.
"Don't say a word," I heard Marlie instruct him. We walked through one of those turnstile things, and I still had no idea where we were. We could be anywhere. What was an hour from my house that would be like this? I was stumped.
"Can I take this off?"
"Just a few more minutes," she promised. "Then you'll take it off anyway."
That made me nervous.
"Will I like this?" I asked suspiciously.
"Oh, yeah."
"You're positive?"
"Uh-huh."
"Okay."
We kept walking, hand in hand, and I could feel the sun on my face, the breeze in my hair, and the smell wafting by of... pool water? What?
"What the hell?" I finally said, and Marlie laughed.
"Here we are." I could definitely smell some kind of gasoline or motor scent now. "Don't take it off yet," she added, swatting my hands away from the ends of the blindfold. "One minute more, tops."
A whole bunch of people were talking in front of us, and I tried to listen in, but I couldn't quite catch what they were saying. "No listening," Marlie said strictly as soon as she saw. "Stuff your hands in your ears."
"You're kidding me." I felt her take my hands and place them over my ears. "Good god, woman."
I heard the faint sound of her laughing once again, and then we shuffled forward. We headed up a ramp, then turned 180 degrees into a corner and walked further up the other way. Then we turned and walked the same distance the opposite direction, still getting higher up each time. "Are we in some kind of line?" I asked, pretty loudly because I couldn't hear myself. No one answered (that I could hear, anyway). I opened my eyes under my bandanna and tried futilely to see anything. It was an effective blindfold.
Finally, Marlie helped me into some sort of seat, taking care that I wouldn't touch the edges with my fingers to see what it was. I plopped down and felt her sit next to me, rather close. I took my fingers out of my ears. Something metallic clicked near my ear. "What was that?"
"Nothing. Don't move an inch."
"Why?" I was fairly panicked now.
"Hikari," she purred, nearly in my ear. "Trust me." Nearby, someone laughed.
Abruptly, the seat I was in began to move with an almost-familiar clack. I was in some sort of train. We swerved to the left and then began clacking upwards, being pulled by a chain. And then I KNEW!
I ripped off the blindfold. "YES!" Marlie giggled hysterically beside me as I bounced up and down in excitement. "We're on the Phoenix! We're on the Phoenix!" The Phoenix is an amazing rollercoaster at a nearby amusement park. Which we were at. Which I was on!
The afternoon was spent going on every roller coaster in the park and quite a few of the other rides. We then came home and baked cookies for dinner. She dropped me off about an hour ago and I am now completely pooped. I'm going to bed at eight tonight.
That's in eleven minutes.
'Night.
Monday, August 20
The Day's Beginning
Tomorrow is Aibou Day, and I can't help but be damned curious about what Marlie will do.
I know what I'm doing.
I'll take her for breakfast to Manhatten Bagel, where we'll pick up a plain bagel for breakfast (she loves them plain, I don't know how she does it). Then we'll go get our ears pierced at a nearby place. We have them pierced with one hole in each each lobe, but we decided earlier this summer to get another piercing for shock value. I think I'm getting this kind of piercing. I want to be able to put a little ring around the outside of my ear. If I know Marlie- and I do- she'll definitely be less adventurous and just opt for a second pair of holes behind her first two, which is fine.
After this, I'm going to produce a list of recipes that I searched out. They're extremely specific recipes. Each one is incredibly low fat, has no milk/butter/dairy products of any kind, and are yummy-sounding. I'll make her pick something to make, and we'll drive to the market and pick something to make together.
We haven't cooked together in a while and I know I'll miss it in what's apparently just down to a week or so until she leaves. When we cook, it's absolutely gorgeous. My sister, as I explained in earlier postings, has mental problems but she can be unusually perceptive. Once, when we were cooking, she called us planets. Bemused, I asked her to explain, and she said, "Because you revolve around each other. You're sensitive to each other. When she moves, you move. When she leans one way, you lean toward her to fix the balance. You're like planets."
And it does make an odd kind of sense. When we cook together, it's in perfect harmony. We're content not to talk and instead to listen to music. It's a playlist of our favorites, so we dance, spin around, and generally be silly while being productive at the same time. I pass her an egg, she cracks it. She hands me the flour, I pour. I give her the spoon, she stirs. Like my sister said, planets. Or plain, simple chemistry: action and reaction.
Today, I found a song in my inbox from Marlie. It's by Keane, a favorite of ours, and it's called Atlantic. It's perfect.
I need a place
that's hidden in the deep
where lonely angels sing you to your sleep
the modern world is broken.
I need a place
where I can make my bed
a lover's lap where I can lay my head
cause now the room is spinning.
The day's beginning...
The Funniest Fight
This fight was caused entirely by my friend Jess. I've mentioned her a few times, but I really ought to comment on her further. She's a slightly overweight and really pretty girl with beautiful hair and a friendly face. She's always been a friend of mine even though we're not much alike. Jess is a gossip queen. Wherever she is, be it work, school, and now college, she knows everyone's business. I don't know how she does it. She somehow learns everyone's names in five seconds flat and proceeds to discern how they all relate to each other.
The only mistake I've ever seen her make is with Marlie and me.
Jess and I met in a government class in highschool and found conversation came easy between us. I invited her along to some things, she slept over at my house, and was all-in-all a good friend. We're close.
But definitely not Marlie close.
We raised Jess' suspicions one day when we were all at my house for a House marathon sleepover. There are two couches in my den- a longer three-section one and a two-section loveseat. Marlie and I, for whatever reason, always end up on the loveseat. I mean, she always sits there. And I always want to sit next to her. And how else could we sit? I'd never thought about it until that sleepover.
Jess was sitting on the three-section couch and Marlie and I were in our usual positions on the loveseat. My freezing house, which is always cold thanks to my not-quite-past-menopause mother, encouraged us to get blankets. I handed one to Jess and threw the other straight into Marlie's face. She let out a squawk of surprise, and we all laughed as she shook out the blanket, jumped up, and started chasing me around with it. I can usually run faster than her, but I tripped over a dog toy and tumbled onto the rug. She took that opportunity to tickle me (and I was laughing hysterically) onto one side of the blanket where she proceeded to roll me up like a hotdog in a bun with only my head sticking out at the top.
"Hey!" I protested as she dragged me back into the den by the end that had my head. The blanket was easy to slide across the linoleum. I wriggled around, trying to free myself, but she'd rolled me up pretty tight.
"What the hell are you guys doing?" Jess said, cracking up from her point on the couch.
"She was cold," Marlie said, maybe not quite in a friendly tone, but a civil one. Marlie didn't dislike or like Jess at this point- this was the first sleepover where all three of us had been together. "Now she's warm. And captive."
"Oh, whatever am I to do?" I said between giggles. Marlie poked me in the ribs again, making me break into a fresh bout of laughter, before picking up the blanket at both ends. She heaved me, blankets and all, onto the loveseat and lifted the end with my head from one of the sections so she could sit down. Then, neither of us thinking where Jess was thinking evidently, Marlie saw nothing wrong with my placing my head back down on her lap. I turned until I was facing the TV and we continued to watch House episodes.
I can now follow Jess' line of thought. Here were two girls who had been close "friends"and were obviously comfortable with each other. A logical assumption to make, perhaps, was that we were both gay. Let me explain here that Jess is not a bad person. But she's slightly homophobic. She's not some awful Catholic- she doesn't want gays and lesbians to burn in hell. It's just that she's uncomfortable, and I respect that... now that I know.
Anyway, we were watching the show mostly in silence, laughing every now and then. I was warm and getting sleepy because it was around 11:30 by that time. I drifted off at one point and missed a good twenty minute segment. I pulled my eyes open and realized my vision was blurry- Marlie had taken my glasses off without waking me. I smiled and snuggled drowsily against her, forgetting in my half-asleep mode that Jess was even there.
"Night."
"Night."
I was knocked-out from this point, including where Marlie carefully lifted me, still rolled up in the blanket, onto the floor and gave me a pillow. Including where Jess made some kind of comment not intended to hurt but... you know Marlie. This is how I'm told the conversation went:
"So... you really love Alyssa, don't you?"
Marlie narrowed her eyes across the room and frowned. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"
Jess immediately shook her head, then hesitated. "Well... I am a little freaked out by it." As Marlie's frown turned into a scowl of confusion, she added, "I'm just not sure how to be comfortable here when you two are obviously in some sort of lesbian relationship." She shifted her eyes to watch a clip of House, which was still playing, and completely missed Marlie's stunned look.
"We're not-" she started to protest.
"No, it's fine," Jess hurried to reassure her. "I guess I'll get used to it. And your secret is safe with me, for what it's worth." She smiled at Marlie uncertainly and mistook the expression on my yami's face for simple relief that she wouldn't make a big deal out of it. "Good night." Jess turned out the light and rolled over on the other couch, effectively ending the conversation.
Marlie sat in shock for only a few seconds or so before she ruefully shook her head. Then she paused. An idea was blossoming in her cunning little yami mind, and it was enough to transform her frown into a full-on smirk.
In the morning, I woke up on the couch and noticed that Marlie was sleeping on the couch with me. That was odd. Normally when she sleeps over, we initially both fall asleep on the two-seat and she moves down to the floor later. She rolls over a lot and I wake up easily, so it's easier just to lay separately and both get a good night's sleep. Still sleepy, I mumbled and wriggled my arm, which had fallen asleep pinned under her, until she moved. I opened my eyes fully and saw Jess was also stirring on the other couch. My stomach growled. It was time to make breakfast.
I carefully untangled Marlie from myself and stood up next to the couch, yawning.
"Good morning," Jess offered to me, stretching herself. Her eyes darted to the hole I'd left in the blankets around Marlie, but I didn't notice.
"Morning," I said blearily. "I'm gonna make breakfast." I started to move away from the couch but was stopped when a familiar pair of arms wrapped themselves around the top of my thighs. I was wearing some old sweatpants and a regular sleep shirt, thankfully, and not a nightie or anything like that.
"Morning," I said again, in surprise this time. This was... odd.
"Good morning," Marlie said, smiling up to me in such a suggestive way that I blushed. What the fuck?
"Going... to make... breakfast," I muttered out, breaking her hold around me. With my back to Jess, I gave Marlie a glare that said "what are you playing at?" and she gave me a sly smile that said "play along with me". When my scowl deepened, she widened her eyes appealingly in a way that said "please?". With a sigh, I marched away from her and into the kitchen. I began puttering around in preparation to make my favorite breakfast- pancakes, bacon, and eggs, oh my.
Jess walked into the kitchen, her face red as a tomato. I gave her an uncertain smile. "Alright?" I asked.
"Fine," she muttered, and I concluded that she just wasn't a morning person. Something nagged me about it though. I filled the awkward silence with chatter about the weather, House, anything- and I was still more than disturbed by Marlie's little act.
The whole time I was cooking, Marlie was up with me. Usually, she's a lazy sod who plops herself into a chair at the table like Jess did and waits for me to serve her breakfast. Today she was following me around our little kitchen, offering help, and touching me in every way possible. She would offer to crack the eggs into the pan. As I handed it to her, she would brush her hand against me and say "Thanks," in what she probably thought was the sultriest way possible. When I asked her how she wanted me to cook her omelette, she gave me a knowing smile, pulled me close to give a nuzzle, and whispered in my ear (loudly, in a way that carried across the kitchen), "You know just how I like it, love."
At this, Jess stood up abruptly in her chair, knocking it back into the wall. I blinked in surprise, Marlie still wrapped around me, at how flushed Jess looked. "I- I have to go get my vitamins out of my bag," she stuttered nervously and nearly ran upstairs to where she'd stashed her bag in my room.
"What are you DOING?" I hissed to Marlie as soon as she was out of hearing.
"Having a laugh," my yami replied lazily. "Relax."
"I won't play along," I warned her.
"You'll spoil it," Marlie complained, a frown tugging at the smile that had been on her face all morning. "Just trust me, hm?"
"With what?" I asked, hearing Jess coming slowly down the stairs.
"Trust without knowing," Marlie told me severely. "That's the essential part to any successful relationship." Jess was two feet from entering the kitchen.
"What-"
At that moment, Marlie kissed me, hard, in the middle of the kitchen just as Jess came into view.
Oh, you wish, you bunch of horny dogs. Really, all Marlie did was press a hand in front of my mouth and crush our faces together around it. A fake make-out session. My back, unfortunately, was to Jess so I couldn't tell her with my eyes what was happening. As soon as I realized what Marlie was doing and guessed why she was doing it, I started struggling, but Marlie knew it was going to come to that. She wrapped a leg around mine so that I had to use my legs to stand up rather than kick her. She held me so tightly to her that all the wriggling I was doing made me look like the horny one. I heard a gasp from behind me and a loud THUMP. Instantly worried, i bit the palm of Marlie's hand.
"Ow! Fuck!" My yami leapt away from me and began hopping around the kitchen. "That hurt!"
"Oh my god!" I was looking at Jess, who was evidently so overcome with horror that she'd wilted in a dead faint and fallen in a heap on my kitchen floor. "Shit!"
"Oh my god!" Marlie blurted out as well, but she began to laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more. In fact, I'm not sure she would have stopped laughing if the need to breathe hadn't become a factor. As it was, I sent Marlie sternly upstairs while I tended to Jess and waved smelling salts under her nose. As soon as she woke up and saw me, she gasped, flushed bright red, then went white as a ghost. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt-"
"No, you weren't, Marlie was playing a-"
"I'm leaving now, see you at school!" And before I could get a word in edgewise, Jess leapt up, dashed to the front door, and left with her car in a screech of tires.
Upstairs, I heard the howls of laughter continue.
"Marlie..." I gritted my teeth. "You are in such big trouble...!" I was positively furious.
Later that week, I made Marlie apologize to Jess for playing such a cruel trick on her and promise to her that we were absolutely not gay. Jess accepted the apology, forestalling any future punishment I could think of for Marlie, and even became as close to us as she had been before. It didn't turn out as badly as it could have in the end. In fact, Marlie and I now know how to react the instant someone new accuses us of being lesbian lovers. We start laughing, startling the unfortunate bystander, and begin fake macking it in a way where even the person knows it's fake and starts laughing as well. Any tension is dissolved and no one asks the question again.
And now you know the story (which Marlie occasionally retells to those who haven't heard it with absolute relish) of how Jess became close to us.
But not too close. Ha, I had to slip that in there. I'll post later.
Sunday, August 19
Myth #5
Exhausting day at the track today. It rained almost the whole time, unfortunately, so we only saw ten races. All dragsters, two funny cars, no bikes or pro-stock. Damnit!
Myth #5. Yamis and hikaris never fight. They know each other too well. (Source)
Truth Votes: 0
Myth Votes: 1
Apparently, Anonymous believes that hikaris and yamis do occasionally fight because "they have different opinions on certain areas".
Anonymous is absolutely correct! Yamis and hikaris do occasionally enter into disagreements that can turn into a battle of wits. Perhaps even wills. Thankfully, this doesn't happen too often. We fight maybe once every few years or so. I'll give you two examples though, one serious and one funny.
The serious example is that we always disagree and have the majority of our fights over one subject- Marlie's dad. I already told you in a previous post how he didn't like her parking his car in my driveway because I apparently live in a "bad neighborhood". He's just a real douche. He left her mom, her, and her 1-year-old sister when she was three or four and that really made life tough for them. He wasn't exactly a big executive at where he worked or anything, but he had been helping to bring in money while Marlie's mom took care of her kids and kept the house tidy. When he left, Marlie's mom (who I am as close to as my own mother and actually call "Mom") put them in daycare and got into that single-mother-parenting mode, which is a sucky mode to be in. I don't care if you're a single mom and you're proud of it. Good. You have something to be proud of. That doesn't mean, however, that it isn't a sucky position period.
Besides the official divorce reason, Marlie's dad is just... weird. Like, seriously. There's something that's definitely creepy about him, from the way he drives (every time we're on a straightaway, he lets the car drift slowly to the side, then jerks it back to the middle of the lane. What the fuck, man?) to the way he photographs everything (he's one of those artsy types). Ugh. He rubs me the wrong way. He's especially made me angry since Marlie turned eighteen and he stopped giving her any support. He didn't get her Christmas presents or a birthday present. He doesn't help to pay for college. Yet he still demands that she come over and sleep over every so often. She only does it because he makes her feel guilty.
I hate that man! He makes her life miserable just by being in it.
Marlie disagrees. She tells me that she loves him anyway, and that she can't help that.
I'm not one for children-automatically-must-love-their-parents. It doesn't work that way! You have to build love. You have to have a reason for it. I hate when people feel guilty enough to do something for a family member they don't even like because the person's family. Fuck family, unless you love them. They shouldn't even be a blip on the radar if you don't love them.
Marlie gets so upset when her dad makes her stay over that she usually persuades me to come with her. That, I can't help with myself. I have to go with her to support her, even though I hate the house, I hate that man, and I hate how they don't clean up after their cats so that it smells and makes my eyes water.
One time, I argued with her while we were over there. She was getting annoyed at me, I was getting annoyed at her, and the tension was building.
I was whispering to her because the walls in that house are thin. "We ought to leave now. Just tell him! You don't like staying here, you have no reason to stay here-"
"I have to stay!" she hissed at me. "He's my dad, I'm obligated-"
"There's no obligation-"
"There is!" she shrieked, and she gave me a shove onto the floor.
"Don't take out your anger at him on me!" I snarled, pushing her back. She answered with her own frustrated growl and the argument devolved into a furious, ridiculous wrestling match where we were trying to pin each other.
"I'm staying here tonight!" Marlie vowed, getting both my wrists, but I flipped her off and began wrestling to try and get her back on the ground.
"We've leaving!" I insisted.
"No, we're NOT!" she full-out shouted, giving me an enormous shove. I slammed back against her wooden bed frame with a surprised squeak.
CRACK.
We both froze, not entirely sure what had happened.
"Are you okay?" she asked me frantically She pulled me from where I'd fallen and squeezed different bones to see if I reacted- my arms, my legs. I didn't bother to tell her that if I'd broken my spine and she'd moved me, I would probably be paralyzed by now. "Was that you? Are you broken?"
"I'm fine,"I assured her. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she said, bewildered, and together we looked at the bed.
Right where one of the wooden legs protruded from the frame was an enormous crack. The force of her shove and the impact of my body had actually broken her bed.
"The bed!" we said at the same time and burst out laughing.
There was a knock at the door and it began to open. By the time her dad stuck his head in the room, I was nonchalantly watching TV. Marlie was strategically sitting in front of the cracked leg. "Everything alright, Alyssa? Marlie?"
"Fine," I answered, gritting my teeth. For once, it wasn't because of tension. It was because I was trying to keep from laughing.
"Fine," Marlie answered innocently. She accidentally placed too much pressure against the bed in her casual act, and it gave a loud, ominous creak. Her father paused from where he had begun to leave. Luckily, the creak sounded less like a cracked bed frame than a fart. So...
"Excuse me." I blurted out. I think my face turned red as a fire hydrant.
"Excused," he said stiffly. This time he really did leave, and we laughed ourselves sick for the next few hours. We eventually decided to fix the broken leg with duct tape- the material of the gods. Marlie still sleeps in that bed when she visits. Apparently the duct tape is still holding up well despite it being five years or so.
The funny example (even though that fight did end on a funny note) will come tomorrow because it's a rather long story. In the meantime, do you believe that you should love your family simply because they're your family, no matter how they treat you, or do you believe that you should love them only if they are deserving of your affection?
Saturday, August 18
Snape is Heathcliff Revisited
The lack of posts today was due to the yard sale, which, while not a gigantic success, was not an utter failure. I made $100, threw out the rest of the stuff, and oh, I did it all alone. Marlie ducked out because her father wanted her for the day. I try not to say anything on that subject at all with her... all it does is make us upset.
In addition, Jess ditched me because she's been home alone for a week and her parents returned early this morning. Evidently, she hadn't cleaned. At all. For a week.
And my sister's friend's family ditched us as well.
The whole morning was me selling things to people and Heathcliff. Yes, Heathcliff. I've finally gotten round to reading some literary classics that I know I should have read a long time ago. Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, and Cat's Cradle are just a few picks that I got from the library the other day.
I've decided that I both love and hate Wuthering Heights at the same time. If you haven't read it, you won't get what I mean. I highly suggest you read it though. There's something entirely captivating about wretched people having the one good quality that they love someone without bounds. Right? The most recent example was in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. (If you haven't read it by now, the Internet must have fucked the ending for you before you got to my blog. I don't feel bad in the slightest for giving the following spoilers.) Snape, who seemed to be basically a horrible person who couldn't help himself, loved Lily. Loved her. Loved her enough that his magic reflected it with his patronus in the shape of a doe. (I'll assume that's her patronus. Or maybe just a symbol of his love for her? They never said.) Snape loved her enough to protect the one thing she had left in the world (Harry)(even though he hated Harry).
Now that I think about it, the similarities between the Harry Potter characters and Wuthering Heights is phenomenal. Severus is Heathcliff. An ugly, black-haired, black-eyed boy who wasn't loved. Severus began to love Lily as a child. Heathcliff began to love Catherine as a child. Catherine is Lily. Severus called Lily names, insulted her, but begged her to be his friend. Heathcliff was an utter prat to Catherine at times, but still they were close. Then James/Edward got mixed in and Lily/Catherine fell for him instead of Heathcliff/Severus. And they suffered for it. Severus resented James all those years for having married Lily and Heathcliff resented Edward.
Of course, it doesn't all fit. Heathcliff was a gypsy brat. Severus was as pure-blooded as could be (I think so, anyway). Lily was, as we know it, a good person. Catherine was a selfish twat.
Yet the only redeeming quality Heathcliff has throughout the entire book is that he loves Catherine fiercely. The only redeeming quality Severus has is that he loves Lily, and he insists Dumbledore never tell. As Dumbledore said on page 679: "My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you? If you insist..."
And later on:
"After all this time?"
"Always," said Snape.
Tomorrow is a busy day. I will be at Maple Grove to watch Angelle Sampey kick some lil' boys' asses. If you have any idea what I am talking about and comment on it, I probably won't believe you and will accuse you of looking it up on Wikipedia. Ah, and now you go to Google to see what other resources there are. Clever. Too bad I am one step ahead.
My post tomorrow will support/deny the following myth.
Myth #5 Preview: Yamis and hikaris never fight. They know each other too well.
Cast a vote. I want to see if the majority will get it right this time.
Friday, August 17
Three Things I Love
You had to see this coming.
I love...
1. Dane Cook.
Okay, so it's not that deep a love or anything, but this man makes me laugh like crazy. In fact, we're going to have a small tribute to him right here, right now.
2. fantasizing that natural disasters will come my way.
I'm not talking about a fire. I don't like fires. What I mean is a fucking tornado or something. Maybe a hurricane or just a flood. And I don't want this to really happen, keep in mind. Katrina was sad, natural disasters are bad, I get it. But every now and then, don't you just like to think about what would happen if some hurricane came your way and you had to pack a backpack in two minutes with everything you loved and get on the fucking roof to be rescued? When do you get to climb on the roof? Never, that's when. But during a natural disaster, it's game. All your neighbors will be up there. You wave hello, maybe communicate with morse code. That's awesome. If the flood gets high enough, you can get in those rescue boats and be on the news.
Admit it- that gets your blood pumping.
A tornado's even better. You have to pack a backpack in two minutes with everything you own and run down to the basement. When are you down there other than when you need new batteries? Suddenly, the family and dogs are in close quarters as you're breathing what may be your final breaths and someone starts to confess. "I ate the last bag of Chips Ahoy." "No! You blamed that on me!" And they gradually get more serious. "I fucked Tommy from across the street two weeks ago." "No! You blamed that on me!"
The pipes start making that creepy sucking sound like they did in Twister and the whole house starts shaking. The obligatory screams begin. Maybe you hear things crashing around upstairs. The eye of the storm passes over, and when the winds start up again, you lose the whole upper part of your house. The sky is abruptly wide open above and anything could come crashing down and smash you at any moment!
I have a serious fantasy disaster complex.
3. to be the first to put a knife into a jar of peanut butter.
I think this all started out as like the ultimate privilege when I was small.
"If you go potty right now, I'll let you dip your knife into the new jar of peanut butter."
"Yay!"
Yeah, it started out totally adorable. I was an adorable little kid, slightly chubby with baby fat and brown frizzy hair that was still cute 'cause I was young. Have you ever thought about that? Frizzy hair is adorable on little kids. It's like "Aw, shucks. You slept on that head. No one brushed it. It's awesome. Keep it up, nice job." Then suddenly they're fifteen and you're like "What the fuck are you doing? Run a brush through that mop. Use some hair gel or something. You look completely gross."
But anyway, I was adorable. And I clamored to get my way with the new peanut butter jars just a bit. Suddenly I was interrogating people.
"Did you open the new jar?"
"No, the old one's only half-finished."
"Well... we'll have to eat more of it. Quickly."
The next day, the same question. "Did you open the new jar?"
"No! Stop harassing me!" After that, I merely resorted to eating as much peanut butter as I could every day. That way, I would be the one to finish the jar. I would therefore have the privilege of opening the new jar. Yes, I was fucked up. I am fucked up, I don't even care. So by the end of that week, I would have the jar down to one last sandwich. I would go to bed that night thinking "Yes. Tomorrow I will eat my last peanut butter sandwich and open a new jar. VICTORY."
That morning, I raced downstairs. I was ready to eat peanut butter on toast for breakfast if I had to. I opened the cabinet, reached up for the mostly-empty jar of peanut butter, and found nothing. NOTHING. The jar was gone. I looked everywhere in the cabinet, the kitchen, the house, it was GONE. I found my Mom in the den.
"Where's the peanut butter jar?"
"Peanut butter? Your father took a peanut butter sandwich to work this morning."
"NO!!!" But then I calmed myself. You know why? There was still hope. There was still some possibility that, in his early morning stupor, he had neglected to open a new jar. I still had a chance!
I raced back to the cabinet and found the new jar. I twisted the cap and held my breath. My heart leapt as I dreamt I saw the tell-tale silver seal. "Yes-" My cry of ecstasy was cut off by the realization that all I saw was a knife actually jammed deep into the full jar of peanut butter. My dad had been so half-asleep that he had left the knife in the new jar when he closed it. "NOOOOOOOOO!"
And to this day, I will still fight you for that first baptizing of the knife into peanut butter. Marlie thinks this is funny as shit. I suspect she eats peanut butter just to see me worry how far down the jar's getting.
She then redeems herself by saving the new jar of peanut butter for me to break into. She actually puts it on top of the fridge and brings it down especially when I come over. "Look what I have for you, hikari." And I dig into that new jar and savor the privilege like each new jar I begin will go and do good in the world thanks to me.
Marlie understands.
While she laughs, she understands.
Do you love to do something that people ordinarily get no pleasure out of doing? I don't want to hear about any sexual escapades, please.
Three Things I Hate
I need to rant.
I hate...
1. when you're checking out in a supermarket with a retarded person as your bagger.
No offense to anyone who has little brothers/sisters/etc. who are retarded- I can sympathize. My sister is mentally retarded. Actually, screw all of you, I don't care. I'm pissed when I have someone who has obvious mental problems bag my things. Why? Not because they're mentally retarded and touching my food (I don't give a shit about any of that stereotypical crap people say) but because they're putting in my eggs with my canned goods! My bread with my cartons of milk! What the fuck, man! And the worst part of it is that you can't say anything. Oh, sure, legally you can say something, like to the manager or whatnot. But everyone's going to think you're a great big pile of douche because you criticized the retarded person. And you are. You just can't do it. Again, I don't care that they're retarded. I care that they're ruining my food because they can't do their fucking job.
Even someone will the smallest IQ has some redeeming qualities- my sister, for instance, should work at the customer service desk and be asked where things are. She could be the virtual store map and keep track of inventory of the entire store at the same time. You could ask where anything is and she would point you to aisle, shelf number, and the height it is above the floor. Could she bag? Well, probably. She's high-functioning. My point is that there are people who can't and they shouldn't be a given a position simply because they're retarded.
2. little nothing people who think their job is more important than it is.
For instance, the conductor on a train that I take sometimes. What do conductor people do nowadays? They give you a ticket to ride and you give them money. Not very important. My conductor, on the other hand, has such a big head that I'm surprised he can fit it on the train.
The other day, I got to the station in the morning sometime (I take it to visit a friend who lives on the other side of the county, but about two feet from the train station). There were a bunch of business-type commuter people milling around, and no one was talking to each other. That's train etiquette. You don't make eye contact. Somehow, it's rude. This rule is normally the status quo that no one messes with.
Finally, the train arrives and we begin getting on. You know how when you board a train in the middle like that, there's a left car you can go into and a right car? It doesn't matter which you go in. You can sit wherever you want. Yet another status quo.
Suddenly, out of no where, this conductor pops up and blocks the entrance to the left car to begin breaking all status quos. "WOAH!" he shouts. "WOAH WOAH WOAH. NO ONE should go into the left car! Right car only, I want you all in one place!" For what? A terrorist operation? A maintenance thing? No, it turns out, just because it makes his life easier.
A random black guy tries to go left. "STOP!" the conductor bellows. "GO RIGHT! YOU MUST GO RIGHT!"
Awesome random black guy: "I ain't goin' right for shit. I can git in the left car if I want."
Conductor: "Sir, go into the right."
ARBG: "Cos it make your job easier?"
Conductor: "No, I just want-"
ARBG: "I dun give a flyin' fuck. It cos I'm black? This a racist thing?"
The conductor starts to lose his steam. "No! Er, could you just-"
ARBG: "If it's racist thing, I'll report you."
Conductor: "Uh-"
ARBG: "Move!"
And he shoved right past the conductor into the left car and refused to move. All the other passengers were snickering. We didn't care that much and were mostly getting into the proper car, but we still laughed at the now-humiliated conductor. Fuck yeah, random black guy! You go!
3. arrogant people who decide that anyone who has their own opinion and refuses to change their mind (especially if they happen to be correct in a textbook-definition way) must be arrogant in turn.
This is a slightly personal hate. My only serious boyfriend was an arrogant little son of a bitch who hated that I occasionally didn't agree with everything he said. Especially on grammar, where I'm usually on the right. Sorry! I just am. Not on everything, not all the time, and not really on any other subjects (I'm sounding more ignorant by the minute...), but on grammar, why, yes! I happen to know many of its rules. This makes me arrogant. Let me go find one of these interesting conversations for you to review.
Boyfriend: Multitudes of patients were treated in the hospitals each year, and they were considered to be the best in the tropical region. ---Multitudes of patients were treated each year in the hospitals; considered to be the best in the tropical region.
Boyfriend: much better
Boyfriend: editting for rachel
Me: (winces)
Me: not better, dear
Me: if you use a ';' , each side has to be able to stand on its own.
Me: hmm... what's she trying to say in this sentence exactly?
Me: what were the best?
Boyfriend: hospitals
Boyfriend: like it says
Boyfriend: Multitudes of patients were treated in the hospitals each year, and they were considered to be the best in the tropical region. ---Multitudes of patients were treated each year in the hospitals: considered to be the best in the tropical region.
Boyfriend: Multitudes of patients were treated in the hospitals each year and they were considered to be the best in the tropical region. ---Multitudes of patients were treated each year in the hospitals; considered to be the best in the tropical region.
Boyfriend: there
Me: (winces)
Me: eh... blegh. I really don't like the sentence, hehe.
Boyfriend: it supposed to sound chunky. written in 1918.
Me: ... and? They could write then too, you know.
Me: hehe
Boyfriend: no they couldn't
Boyfriend: if tolkien is any example and he's even more modern
Me: Um, he wrote very, very long sentences.
Boyfriend: the sentences go on....and on....
Me: Not short ones.
Boyfriend: and on
Boyfriend: and on
Me: So... why is it choppy again then?
Boyfriend: the best way to write that sentence is with two.
Boyfriend: but this way it sounds more old
Me: look... I'm sorry, but that is honestly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. X''D (is dying laughing)
Boyfriend: oh really?
Me: yes!!
Boyfriend: write it so it sounds old, smarty pants
Me: I'll write it so it sounds better, silly.
Boyfriend: anyone can do that
Me: Multitudes of patients were treated each year in the hospitals, which were considered to be the best in the tropical region.
Me: That's the most I can do without seeing the rest of it.
Boyfriend: that sounds like a perfectly fine sentence
Boyfriend: written by a kid in 2005.
Me: Otherwise it could be 'Multitudes of patients were treated each year in the hospitals. The hospitals were considered to be the best in the tropical region.'
Me: look, it's a sentence.
Me: a grammatically correct sentence.
Me: is she trying to write like this is a journal in the early 1900's or whatnot?
Boyfriend: written as like in 1918
Boyfriend: lots of people back then wrote not unlike today, but in order for it to sound old it has to...sound old.
Boyfriend: grrrrr, you drive me nuts sometimes
Me: You can definitely use more formal sentence construction, but short, choppy sentences are not the way to go.
Me: I'm driving you nuts?!
Me: ye gods
Boyfriend: just a tad!
Boyfriend: "no no stupid. you suck. this is the way to do it."
Boyfriend: ^ that's annoying
Me: (insulted) I did not say that at all!
Boyfriend: (19:41:02) Me: look... I'm sorry, but that is honestly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. X''D (is dying laughing)
(19:41:13) Boyfriend: oh really?
(19:41:18) Me: yes!!
(19:41:19) Boyfriend: write it so it sounds old, smarty pants
(19:41:30) Me: I'll write it so it sounds better, silly.
Me: I was trying to help you help Rachel, and what you're saying is sounding extremely silly to me. Lmao, it does sound stupid. Come on. Short choppy sentences sound old? Can't you laugh at yourself there?
Boyfriend: not really. my memory of it is that they didn't use all run on sentences and that they often weren't as picky with smooth flow and exact correctness.
Me: well... don't you want her to get an 'A'? The early 1900's people weren't being graded.
Boyfriend: it's a social studies article. her teacher won't care if her flow isn't smooth as silk.
Me: then why would the teacher care if it's 1900's writing?!
Boyfriend: just try to offer suggestions instead of being a grammatical bull in a china shop. your way isn't always automatically the perfect one.
Boyfriend: oawigehawoeighaw
Boyfriend: i'll be back in a few
After which he stormed off and cried himself to sleep or whatever. What a whiney little asshole... how could I ever have dated him? For one thing, I told him at the start (or at least tried to explain to him) how Marlie would always be more important to me than he would. He didn't like that much at all. And it's not the nicest thing to say, maybe, but he got me on the spot by asking who I would save first if he, Marlie, and all the rest of our friends were in a building. Who asks that kind of question? You all know its answer. Yamis are about an infinite amount of times better than boyfriends.
Have you ever had a boyfriend who said he wanted someone intelligent with her own opinions but it turned out that he just wanted a little nodding-head doll who agreed with everything he said?
Thursday, August 16
How It All Came to Be
I moved to my current home in the middle of first grade. It was pretty tough. I went from living in the country and having hick friends to entering a new class around Christmas and dealing with suburbanites. Of course, it would all work out in the long run. My parents decided to move so that I'd have a chance to go to a better school (and they did it fucking right. I was in the best district in my side of the US).
Depending on how good your memory is, your first one may be when you were three or four. Maybe you went to Disney World, met Mickey Mouse, and your very first recollection is of you screaming in terror as a giant mouse swoops down to feast upon your organs. Me, I don't remember anything before I was six, when I was halfway through first grade. When I first met her.
Yeah, it's corny. But it's also true. Absolutely nothing of significance happened before then. I had preschool friends and left them all without regrets. I had birthdays, Christmases, tenderfelt moments between just my parents and I before my sister was born, and I don't remember any of it. The following is a more-or-less accurate transcript of what happened that day in December.
My memory starts when my new class was walking somewhere on a mini field trip. I don't know where the shit we were going, but I do remember hating my partner. She was some sullen fat kid who didn't have friends and so got stuck with me, the new girl. I wasn't exactly thrilled to be with her either. I was born a month early and small, then at six years old I was small, and I'm only a few feet taller today. This girl was like, mammoth. I can still remember her face leering down at me.
Enough fat first-grader bashing. The teacher kept telling us to walk next to our partner, but there was no way in hell I was gonna do that. I sort of wandered off and got myself lost without her noticing.
I should mention that I have Mazeophobia- the fear of getting lost. I never remember this until I am lost.
So I was standing in the middle of the hallway and I was freaking out. When I am absolutely without-a-doubt scared to my core, I'm ashamed to admit that I'm like a small bunny. I freeze and find myself completely paralyzed. Which is not the best survival technique in the middle of the hallway. Those big lumbering sixth-graders kept running me over as they went to the library, or wherever it was that giants hung out in those days. It was a shove from one of them that finally made me move.
I stumbled over to the wall of the hallway and sat down with my back against some cubbies, utterly at a loss. The school, in my opinion, was HUGE and there was absolutely no way I could find my way back. Ever. I was so completely fucked. My country pre-school had like four rooms. This school had to have at least forty. Maybe two million. It didn't really matter. Just thinking about the hopelessness of my situation made me tear up. Okay, truth be told, it made me bawl in a flat-out sobfest.
"Hey."
Someone was interrupting my crying, which I thought pretty rude. I looked up, face completely red and tear-streaked, and there was Marlie. She already had her huge bush of more-frizz-than-curl brown hair and enormous owl glasses (much like myself). It was like looking into a mirror.
"You're in the way of my cubby," she said, not quite delicately, and I muttered a "sorry" as I scuttled sideways. I didn't notice it, busy as I was in sobbing, but she paused, looked down at me and hesitated. I've asked her. She doesn't know why she hesitated. She doesn't know if it was because I looked like her, or because I was crying, or for no reason at all. Whatever the reason, her next statement was pivotal.
"Hey," she said again and paused until I looked up. "I'm gonna go get ice cream." I blinked. "And there's a lot of it," she added casually. I blinked a second time. "... there's chocolate."
I finally got it. "Can I... can I come get some with you?"
"Yeah!" she enthused. "Just follow me."
We toddled off on our little first-grader legs through the hallways. I was no longer nervous because I wasn't lost- someone had found me and was taking me to ice cream! Except now her slightly longer legs were leaving me behind.
"Wait up," I called out, panicking slightly, and Marlie immediately stopped.
"You've got to walk quicker," she said severely, grabbing my hand and tugging me along. "Soon the teacher will come looking for me."
"She wants ice cream too?" I was breathless from walking at such a speed.
"Uh-huh," Marlie lied effortlessly. We turned into a hallway the led behind the cafeteria. And there... in glorious freezer after freezer... was ice cream. This was like a dream come true. "I think they have vanilla over here." Still leading me by the hand, we walked over to the freezer and rubbed off the glass to look inside.
"That's chocolate," I said, squinting at it. "Can I have some of that?"
"Yeah." Marlie shrugged. "I'll get spoons." She disappeared through a door I hadn't noticed while I helped myself to a mini-sized carton of chocolate. I retrieved her vanilla while I was at it. She returned and I handed it to her.
"Uh- thanks." The word popped out of her mouth in surprise. "I only found one spoon," she said apologetically. "We'll have to share." She handed me the spoon and I dug out a bite.
"That's okay," I said, beaming. "Friends share." I swallowed the ice cream in one gulp and got brain freeze.
"We're friends?"
"Not if you don't want to," I amended, looking worried.
"Yeah, I want to!" she said hurriedly. "I don't have any. My name's Marlie." She looked down at her ice cream.
"I'm Alyssa. And you don't have any spoons?" I asked, feeling silly, and she giggled. I passed the cutlery.
"No friends," she answered, her tone sobering up a little, and my smile drooped. She scooped out a mouthful of vanilla and passed the spoon back.
"Hey," I objected. "Now we're friends, right?" She nodded. "And as your friend, I'll want to eat ice cream every day for the rest of my life forever and ever with you!" I declared, waving the spoon and successfully splattering melting chocolate ice cream over our clothing. "Oops..."
And the rest, as they say, is history. In one of my mother's fondest memories of me (yah right), she was forced to come pick me up from the principals office on my very first day of school because I had broken into the kitchens behind the cafeteria as an accomplice, eaten three small containers of chocolate ice cream, ruined my first-day-of-school clothing with chocolate splatters, and made a new friend. Well, I wasn't in the principal's office for making a new friend, but he really did want to write that up on the list of charges. Marlie was apparently classified as a bad influence.
The only difference is that now, she's my bad influence. And I like her that way. So if we go out to get ice cream, and I get plain chocolate in a cone and she gets vanilla and we both start giggling, you now know why. Especially if we start passing a spoon back and forth and laughing as I manage to get chocolate all over my shirt. (Shut up, I'm messy.) And if I should say something like "Every day for the rest of my life?" and she replies, "Forever and ever", don't think it's from a Hallmark card, because that sentence was totally the best sentence I've ever said and will probably ever say. Ever.
So apparently all my readers are a bunch of masochistic bastards who would rather be in pain than swallow one or two itty bitty pills. Pansies. Question for all of you (there'll be no myth tomorrow):
How did you meet your best friend/boyfriend/girlfriend? It doesn't matter who it is, but what do you remember most about the memory?
Myth #4
Myth #4. Yamis are impervious to pain. They ignore it. Hikaris will cry at the slightest wound. They complain about it. (Source)
Truth votes: 0
Myth votes: 1
I'm absolutely thrilled with all the comments, guys. Keep it up! Maybe if some of you had contributed your own opinion on Myth #4, you would have beat me. I win this round- it's a truth!
Marlie is absolutely oblivious when it comes to pain. You might know her inside and out. You still won't be able to tell if she's not feeling well. I know her even better than that and I still have difficulty sometimes. The only signs that she's not feeling well are that she doesn't eat anything and that she doesn't talk as much. If you read my post where I described Marlie's eating habits, you'll know she eats very little. Anyone would naturally assume that Marlie not eating is, well... Marlie not eating. Business as usual. The trick is to casually mention food and then watch her face; there's this little muscle above her mouth that twitches when the thought of something makes her sick.
Marlie not talking much is another hard-to-identify symptom. Marlie can talk on and on with me, but when she doesn't have anything to say, she's dead-silent. She creeps people out that way. It's that, and when she's not saying anything, she kind of has this deadpan stare that finishes in a creepy smile.
"Why do you do that?" I asked her once. We were in a waiting room for something or other, and she'd just successfully made a mother of two children get up and leave.
"Do what?"
"That stare where you smile at the end. It's so creepy."
"Like this?" She did it to me, and I couldn't help giggling.
"Yeah. What is that?"
"It's creepy?" she inquired. "I thought it was reassuring. And besides, you said that I ought to smile at people more, so I am." Just to top it off, she tipped me the creepy smile once more.
So there you have it. In Marlie-land, creepy smiles are smiles nonetheless and when Marlie's sick, pain is insignificant. I forgot to mention the time she got kicked by a horse square in the thigh. I know the horse was wearing shoes. Did I mention that I never even saw the horse? She got this gross bruise that she kept pulling down her pants to show people. Er, I don't mean like people on the street, but basically everyone in our circle of friends.
"Look! It was black before. Now it's green, yellow, and blue."
My friend Jess made a face. "Yes, it's disgusting. Could you stop? I'm eating lunch here."
"But look at it! It's like... a buffet of colors."
"Erghlack!"
Later, when everyone else was gone, Marlie turned to me. "What do you think of it, hikari? Isn't it pretty?"
I rolled my eyes. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful. No, I don't want to see it again!"
There is no telling how much pain she was in because pain just doesn't affect her. She never took Tylenol or anything to stop the pain. She just didn't care. And though that bruise finally went away and healed up, she has a dent in her muscle. A hoof-sized dent still with horseshoe nail indentations.
You might be able to tell that the idea of pain being nothing is utterly beyond me. Okay, so I'm a wimp when it comes to pain. If I feel really sick, I get so upset that I cry. Luckily (knock on wood) I've never broken anything worse than a nail. I've been horseback-riding most of my life and am now on crew, but I've never really hurt myself, thank god. I don't know if it's luck or merely the fact that the gods know something beyond a scrape is beyond me. And maybe I do complain about it a bit...
Question for you to answer: How are you when it comes to pain? Are you a wimp? Or do you tough it out without resorting to Tylenol? And what's the worst injury you've ever gotten?
Later I'll post something I've been getting emails about- how Marlie and I first met.
Wednesday, August 15
Myth #3
Marlie just left and we've agreed that since we're both free on Tuesday, that will be the epic Aibou Day. Aibou, for anyone who doesn't go on Fanfiction.net religiously, kind of means "partner". Writers on there use it a lot to describe the relationship between Yugi/Yami, which is I guess as close to ours as the show gets. Marik/Malik are a little too violent to be us (let's face it, Marik was slightly messed up to begin with) and Ryou and Bakura's relationship is too love-hate. I like to think that Marlie and I are partners in some grand scheme. Like Holmes and Watson. Calvin and Hobbes. Just a great duo. Plus, the word 'ai' is in aibou, which I'm almost certain is Japanese for "love". That works for me.
On Tuesday, I get the morning to take Marlie to breakfast and we do whatever I want (really, that means whatever I want to do for her), have lunch at Subway (a place we both enjoy), and then the afternoon and dinner are hers. It'll be good for us to spend a whole day together. We'll be going back to school so soon, and to answer a question I got emailed today: no. We don't go to the same college. I don't even want to write about it until I have to.
Myth #3. Hikaris are physically weak. Yamis are physically strong, and they are at least stronger than their hikari.
I'm so glad someone actually voted! Thank you so much, anonymous person. Anonymous thought that the above is a fact.
S/he was half-right, half-wrong.
More like 2/3 right and 1/3 wrong.
Hikaris are not physically weak. I wholeheartedly deny that I am weak! For christ's sake, I can run six miles in an hour without feeling sore the next day. I don't consider that weak. In addition, I'm on my college rowing team and we get on those rowing machines even in the winter off-season. That sport is friggin' hardcore. I must have some kind of inner strength because it's a sport where supposedly tall people do the best (I'm 5'2", you'll remember) and I kick some of those tall people's asses when it comes to technique and endurance.
On the other hand... Marlie is one buff chick.
It's not obvious when you look at her. She's definitely not that stereotypical scary-wrestler- Amazon woman. She's only about an inch or so taller than me. How strong could she be, right? The answer is incredibly strong. She's been horseback-riding for about 10 years now. That takes care of her 110% muscle legs (and it's where I get mine as well. I introduced her to the sport. The difference is that I stopped riding a few years ago and she's still going at it).
Marlie also works at her barn to pay for lessons. Barn work includes lifting heavy water buckets, mucking stalls (horse poop is heavy!), and wrestling with misbehaving stallions. I'm so envious because her arms are fucking chiseled. Not with huge muscles, but the scarier kind- lean muscles. I think that if she were paralyzed except for the use of one arm (right or left, it doesn't matter. I've lost in arm wrestling to both), she could still kill you in under a minute just by breaking something off. Because she watches medical shows, she even knows exactly what to break off.
So, okay, she's probably somewhere between two to three times as strong as I am. But hey! That does not mean I'm weak. Well, my arms are by now because I've done absolutely nothing with them over the summer, but I graduated from a kickboxing class and my legs are F-I-T fit. So, uh, shut the fuck up. I'm not weak. Why do I feel like I'm typing defensively?
Here's the myth to vote about for tomorrow.
Myth # 4 Preview: Yamis are impervious to pain. They ignore it. Hikaris will cry at the slightest wound. They complain about it.
While you're musing on that, check out the album Under the Iron Sea by Keane. Really chill music. I especially like the songs Atlantic, Is it Any Wonder, Nothing in My Way, Hamburg Song, Crystal Ball, and The Frog Prince. Er. Which is about half the CD. And I like the other ones almost as much. Download now!
Best Friends Day
Apparently, today is Best Friends Day.
How do I know?
I got this amusing email an hour ago.
Lys,
Some douchebag at work last night told me that today (the 15th) is best friend's day. I know we're not best friends. Well, we are. Fuck you, you know what I mean. But I was thinking that we should have a hikari/yami day. We don't have to call it that. Come up with something. We'll go out to dinner. Actually, my treat as long as you think up a better name than my crap one.
I'm coming over at 7. Be home.
Er, it's not signed, but that's from Marlie. 'Lys' is a nickname that she and a few of my closer friends call me because, apparently, Alyssa is a mouthful.
I love this girl so much. How could you not? I am grinning right now because that email is just completely... Marlie. Most notably the "I know we're not best friends.... fuck you, you know what I mean" part. She's not the most eloquent person, but she doesn't have to be with me. I always know what she means anyway.
Most of our conversations end up in some half-mental territory that no one else can understand.
Me: "Do you remember what we talked about last Saturday that we hadn't thought of?"
Marlie: "Yeah."
Me: "We should definitely-"
Marlie: "Yeah! When will you pick me up?"
Me: "Nah, my car's-"
Marlie: "I'll get you at six-"
Me: "Make it seven. It's-"
Marlie: "Sunday. Mystery Diagnosis. We're out of batteries."
Me: "Kay."
Everyone Else: ????
My mom: "Wait, what are you guys doing on Sunday?"
In this case, I'd remembered that on Saturday we thought about Laser Tag, which we haven't done in forever. There's a local place we used to go to a lot, but he hadn't gone to since we got back from school this summer. And Marlie remembered that the last time we went, we used up the batteries in our guns and we needed new ones for this time. Not apparent to you, maybe, but crystal clear to us.
Two more blog-business type things. I keep getting comments/emails saying that someone emailed them this blog. I don't know who's doing it, but keep it up! It sounds less like spam and more like targeted link-passing. Also, you should know that if you comment on this blog, I'm loving you for it. I try to reply to comments by doing it on your blog, but if you don't have one, I'll reply by commenting on the same entry you did. That means you should check back later to see what I said.
To be busted/upheld later... Myth #3. Hikaris are physically weak. Yamis are physically strong, and they are at least stronger than their hikari. (Source)
Myth? Reality? Leave a comment to vote.
Tuesday, August 14
Scary Goth/Emo Chicks are Scary
I set a new personal record set for running. 5.9 miles in an hour. Technically, 5.87 miles, but who's gmapping?
I'm not seeing Marlie today, unfortunately, because she is once again working at our most faaaaaavorite place of all time: the movie theater. At least now and then we get to go see free movies. I haven't paid for a movie myself since June. We saw Harry Potter, Ratatouille, Knocked Up, and Pirates pretty much all in the same time period, for instance.
No big post here. Am busy prepping for a yard sale that my family's having this Saturday. I should say, that my family, my little sister's family, Marlie, and our mutual friend Jess are having Saturday. We told them to bring all their shit to our house so we can just sell it all off at once. I suggested we just put price tags on everything in the basement and let people go on down, but no one was keen on it.
I will leave you with something awesome though. Just to make the trip here worth it.
Uwaaa~~~ I luff her~~~ heh... my hair is spiked and you can't tell... And we shared my silver contacts... ^_^; Of course, she looks extremely pretty, I just tried to be manleh... XDDDD My red lip ring is acting up in this picture... it's not staying put, and so it's at a weird angle...
The next morning, I woke up, and her fire alarm was going off, and she slept through it... meh... if there had actually been a fire, she'd have died without me~~~
Did anyone else look at this and think the instant they saw it "GIRL ON THE LEFT NEEDS CHAPSTICK BADLY"?
Kidding. I hope you were just as terrified as I was. I promise that Marlie and I look a shitload saner than these two. By the way, if you are these two, email me. Please. I want you to keep writing like this so I can keep laughing. Why am I laughing? Because if I didn't laugh, I'd cry, and the former doesn't give me a headache.
The Story as Promised
It was the summer of 6th grade and I was super-excited because Marlie and I were going to the same camp together. We'd both gone away to camp before, but separately or at different times depending on family vacations, types of camps, etc. This was the very first summer we would spend a whole seven days in a row together.
Marlie, me, and Mom Mom were all sitting around the kitchen table and I was practically bouncing in my seat with excitement. Marlie was, as usual, a little more restrained, but she was being pretty quiet even for her. I suspect her close-lipped act was because my mom mom is a scary woman. You normally don't think of grandmoms as scary, I know. Let me just say this: my Mom Mom is a badass motherfucker. Seriously. She's a little old white woman, but I've seen her outnerve hardcore gangster-looking types more than once. Once when I was younger, I went out shopping with her and some older boys tried to rob her. The store manager eventually called the police- not, in fact, to save my mom mom. The boys needed saving from her. She broke the ribs on one of them, gave another a black eye, and then was almost charged with assault despite it being exaggerated self-defense. Why? She gave lip to the police officer, who happened to be black. I'm pretty sure she said something like "get your nigger hands off me", but I can't quite get her to confirm that.
... back to the story. So, I was rambling on and on in my excitement about camp with the occasional grunt of acknowledgment from Marlie. "And we're gonna make friendship bracelets together-"
"Mm-hm."
"- and we're gonna be swim buddies-"
"Mm-hm."
"- and we're gonna share a tent together!"
"Mm-hm."
Mom Mom, who had been frowning in increasing amounts during my babbling, interjected an "Oh, are you?". I didn't notice it, but Marlie told me later that her pursed lips looked like they wanted to say something else.
"Yeah!" I got up from my chair and danced from the table to the refrigerator to pour myself some milk. "It'll be so much fun, I'm so excited. It's in July though, that's over a month away-"
"Alyssa," Marlie interrupted, looking at the glass. "Me too?"
"Uh-huh," I said, barely noticing the interruption. It hadn't exactly shattered my train of thought, but my mom mom must have thought it rude. Her frown deepened into what could be considered a scowl at this point. I went back to the kitchen cabinet to fetch a cup and kept going. "And I've only ever been to day camps, but Marlie says that overnight camps are way more fun! She says that-"
"Alyssa!" Mom Mom said suddenly, and I paused in pouring the milk and looked at her in surprise. "Why aren't you giving Marlie as big a glass as yours? Isn't that rude?"
"But this is her favorite one," I said, still surprised as anything. "And she doesn't want as much as me."
"Did you ask her?"
"Er... no." I turned to look at her and say, extremely politely, "Marlie... how much milk do you want?"
"The usual," she said coolly, and I cringed slightly. I knew the tone wasn't for me, but when Marlie doesn't sound mad and gets this way-too-casual tone instead, things are going to go horribly wrong.
"That's fine," I said hurriedly in my avoid-a-crisis-at-all-costs voice. "Mom Mom, let me tell you more about the camp-"
"I've heard enough," she said firmly. "What I want to know is, are there any boys at this camp?"
"Boys?" I blinked. Wrong reaction. Two things you need to know. One, I was an incredibly late bloomer. I was ugly pretty much until I was about 16 or 17. Suddenly I had a boyfriend, become boy-crazy, yadda yadda... but until then? Nothing. The second thing you need to know is that this was a Girl Scout camp. I never got to tell her that part.
"I knew it!" she crowed, and, utterly confused, I just brought our two glasses of milk over to the table. I had no idea what was coming next. "You're gay!"
Why did I have to be the one to take a sip? I choked it down before it exploded out my mouth. "I'm what?!" I didn't dare look over at Marlie.
Let's face it. 'Gay' was the ultimate insult in the 90's. Maybe it still is in elementary schools, I wouldn't know. Yet even as people threw it around haphazardly, everyone knew what it meant. If you were a girl, it meant you like girls. If you were a boy, it meant you liked boys. Simple.
I'd never even considered that definition for me.
"You're gay!" she repeated gleefully. "I'm right, aren't I? Oh, I've been suspecting it for a while, Alyssa, and you've just practically admitted it! Listen to you, going to this all-girls camp with your best friend who also happens to be a girl and you're going to share a tent together-- no doubt making love all week lon-"
The whole time she went on like this, I was staring at her in absolute horror, unable to say or do anything. I hate confrontations. When people say hurtful things to me, I don't know how to react. I freeze up and I may get mad, but all I do is cry. Which is fairly pathetic. Shut up. I was still in shock mode here, not quite up to the crying phase yet, when there was an interruption that didn't come from me.
It was from Marlie. In the form of her glass of milk.
My jaw must have been on the floor. It's not every day that your yami throws a glass of milk straight into the face of your grandmother.
"She's not gay," Marlie said coldly, and my mom mom's mouth moved without a sound for a good ten seconds.
"Well!" she finally spat out. "I never--" and we never got to find out what she never. She stood up without another intelligible word, still sputtering, and marched out of the house.
A moment later, Marlie and I heard her motorcycle start up and screech out of my driveway.
Still in absolute shock, my eyes took in the milk puddle in the chair, the milk footsteps leading out of the kitchen, and Marlie's sudden frown. She looked at the cup she still held in her hand and sighed as though intensely annoyed. "I'm all out of milk," she declared. "Can I have some more?"
In case you were wondering, I'm on good terms with my mom mom now. When she and Marlie happen to be in the same room, they do that guy thing where they kind of eye each other and jerk their heads in a stiff nod. My mom mom's badass, but she isn't witless quite yet; she's never asked that question again.
Monday, August 13
Myth #2
How sad! At least twenty other people have visited this blog besides me and none of them could venture a guess. Then again, at least I have about twenty people who look at this. That's many more than I expected, actually.
Myth #2: Yamis have a fetish for blood/eating people. Hikaris will faint at the mention of blood.
If you guessed that this is a myth, you were wrong. If you guessed this wasn't a myth, you were still wrong. How tricky am I, eh? The truth is that it's half-right and half-wrong.
I can confirm that my yami does like blood. Just in general. She likes to watch as doctors take her blood for tests. If she gets a scrape, she likes to examine it as it bleeds and lick it up and whatnot. However, she does not eat people. Ergh. Actually, Marlie has funny tastes on what does/n't gross her out. Blood's okay, but throwing up is not. She can't watch anything where people throw up. Especially if they throw up blood. (I know what I just said. I don't get it either.) She also doesn't like rectal bleeding. (I discovered this via House.) Pus, on the other hand, is fascinating. One time I caught her shoveling dirt into a cut just so that it would get "interesting-looking".
Me and blood? We have a complicated relationship. If I get a cut, I'm okay. If I get something that's bleeding all over the place, I do get light-headed. If it's not my blood though, I'm fine. Just like that. If someone bleeds in real life, on House, whatever, I'm fine with that. I'm actually a really useful person in medical emergencies because I don't freak out. I'm a person who freaks out later in private-- I'm really good at keeping it together on the spot.
There you go. The blatant truth about yamis and hikaris, unlike most places on the web. So can we please stop getting posts in forums like this one:
Hi! I did this thread 'cause some friends like Atem#1 have a Yami, you know, like Atem. So, I want to know if anyone else has one. And you can post if your Yami has a crush on someone!
Aniky: Then go on.
Me: On what?
Aniky: What your title says. Duh? Talk them about me! 
Me: I'm not going to do it if I don't want to.
Aniky: Don't make me introduce myself! 
Me: OK, OK! You win!
Aniky: 
Me: Everyone who posts on this thread, she is my Yami, Aniky.
Aniky: Hi, there!
Me: You're exagerating, Ani.
Aniky: Plz don't call me like that! I hate it!
Me: I can't believe I used to share a body with you! Sorry. But she was (and still is) so annoying.
Aniky: Hey!
Me: C'mon, Ani.
Aniky: Stop with that! I hate it! I hate it! How many times do you want me to say it?!
Me: Alright.
Aniky: And can I plz tell them my crush?
Me: Depends. Who's your crush?
(Whispers something to me)
Me: Forget about it! He's my crush!
Aniky: My crush...
Me: Don't you dare!
Aniky: IS...
Me: You asked for it!
Aniky: C'mon, Animefan! I was just joking! Plz don't hurt me!
Me: I'm not gonna hurt you.
Aniky: Phew!
Me: Something worse!
Zuraki: Aniky, you better start running!
Aniky: (Sarcastic tone) Do you think so?!
Me: Come here!
Aniky: No! Plz! AAAHH! 
Someone hide me!
Me: So now you get the idea of the purpose of this thread. Plz! I need someone to reply! Plz! (Source.)
I hate people so much for this kind of thing. This is why no one believes me. This is why people can't understand what Marlie and I have. This is why my mom mom (aka grandmother) thought we were lesbian lovers. Yes, she really did. I bet you can guess how well that conversation went. Let's save it for tomorrow when I'm not already all fired-up and ready to shoot some stupid people.
Dr. G == Total Asshattery
Motivated by my own mention of Discovery Health, I turned it on last night for a few rarely-sought hours in front of the tube. I wasn't feeling well for whatever reason, and I was too uncomfortable to sleep, too uncomfortable to read. What could take less effort than watching TV?
I haven't watched TV for a few months. (That excludes when Marlie comes over, because she's an absolute TV junkie who needs it on for background noise or she can't function.) I flip to Discovery Health and, while watching Mystery Diagnosis, keep getting commercials for this weird Dr. G show. I'm all "what the fuck?" because I'm intrigued by watching a show where the people don't get better. Seriously. 90% of cases on House end where the patient is diagnosed and lives and of course every episode of Mystery Diagnosis ends in, guess what, a diagnosis. They would never put a diagnosis/death combo on there because they know people with mysterious illnesses watch the show. Ending it in death just reminds them of what they could be facing if they aren't diagnosed.
Anyway, I'm so intrigued that I go onto Youtube and find this.
It's extremely interesting... until we meet fucking Dr. G. What the shit is wrong with this woman's voice? Why would they ever let her host a show? She's so goddamn annoying. "We're just gonna have to wait for that tox and micro, tox and micro!"
But you know what? I could have ignored her and kept on watching if they didn't keep teasing me. For an autopsy show, I think it's strange that they never show the autopsy. It's completely censored. Whenever they show her hands doing something, blurry places pop up where the body should be. They occasionally show an organ that they remove as it's sitting on a table by itself. That's about it. I feel so cheated! I don't want to be looking at Dr. G's freaking face during the autopsy. I want to see some dead bodies cut open with the "standard Y incision", goddamn it!
... oh god. I sound just like Marlie. Or do I?
Myth to be busted/upheld later: Yamis have a fetish for blood/eating people. Hikaris will faint at the mention of blood. (Source.)
Ah, and the funny part is that you think you know that it's a myth. Keep thinking that. It makes it so much cooler when you jump to conclusions and I end up shattering them.
You now have a chance to vote on whether it's a myth or a fact. Go go go! Comment below and discuss amongst yourselves. I'll even give you six entire hours after this has been posted to make up your minds.
Sunday, August 12
Warm
Marlie was just here. Gone now. Even after she leaves, I can still smell her scent lingering in places. Near my bed where she was sitting, in the kitchen (where she ate the last of my bananas), and by the front door. I could find her with my eyes closed in a roomful of people. I have found her with my eyes closed in a roomful of people.
If you've been reading, you'll remember how I said that she's the one with the good ears? Mine are absolute crap genetically (thanks, Mom), but I am the one with the good nose. I'm proud of it, actually. My eyes, skin, and ears suck royally at what they're supposed to do. My nose though... I've proved how good it is.
I think the first time I realized that my nose was a little more sensitive than other people's was early in grade school. Sometime between first and second grade. Of course it was Marlie's fault that I found out.
"Where are you going after school?" I'd asked her.
"Home. Why?"
"Want to come over?"
"Yeah. I'll ask my mom, but I think it's okay."
We got on the buses to leave school around 3, so I was expecting Marlie to show up at my house around 3:30. I was bemused when she didn't show up until 4.
"Where were you?" I asked. "Was there traffic?"
"Yeah," she said uncomfortably, and we both knew she was lying. I was only further confused because what reason would she have to lie to me, especially to try it when she knew she'd be unsuccessful?
"It's okay," I said, in response to whatever was making her nervous. I didn't want her to freak out. Sure, I was plenty curious about where she'd been, but it wasn't that important for me to know. I restrained my busybody instincts and reached out to hug her.
She hugged me back, and my nose twitched. "You've been at Tracy's," I said without thinking, and I felt her stiffen. Tracy's house, located on an old farm property, smelled like cat pee and eggs. Cat pee because they had stray cats all the time. Eggs because they couldn't afford to eat much else.
"Yeah," she said softly. "My mom wasn't home. I asked Dad to take me over instead. He drove me to Tracy's house because..." A long hesitation.
"Oh." Understanding dawned. I've said before that her dad's messed up, and I'll say it again. Just a few years ago when she was 16 and borrowing his car, he wouldn't let her park it at my house overnight. Said I lived in a bad neighborhood. I should mention that I live in upper middle class suburbia. Nothing ever happens here. We're literally across the street from the fucking police station. But even back in grade school, I knew her dad didn't like me. Probably because I could smell what was on him and instinctively didn't like it/him. By now, I suspect it was pot mixed with something even more serious. I haven't seen the man in six years. It's faded too much for me to identify.
Anyway, I could tell what had happened in the beginning. Her dad drove her to Tracy's and futilely tried to get her to stay there to play. It didn't work because Tracy was a bitch in first grade and I guarantee you she's one today. It also didn't work because Marlie and I were already closer than best friends and no one, including ourselves, understood how deep and important that bond was. (And forget the lesbian thing, we talked about that! Yeah, I knew where you went. It's cool. Moving on.)
Marlie, though thick as a block when it comes to reasoning, had concluded I would react with dismay, even though it wasn't her fault. If I could predict her (and I already could), she would bring some consolation prize.
I gave a loud sniff, recognizing my second favorite smell in the world besides hers, and she wasn't fool enough to mistake it for crying. She grinned at me, reached into her pocket, and pulled out half a Hershey's chocolate bar. I could picture Tracy's mom giving it to her while the woman argued with Marlie's "eccentric" father about bringing a child somewhere she didn't want to be. I could also picture Marlie slipping half of the bar into her pocket.
"Yeah?" she said hopefully.
"Come watch Power Rangers with me," I answered, and that was that.
Marlie smells like cinnamon mixed with warm. If you love someone, whether it's your mother or your brother or your lover, you know the way they smell. And you know what I'm talking about when I use the description 'warm'.
PS: What does your favorite person smell like? If you even notice, that is.
Myth #1
I had a strange dream last night that I'm trying to remember. It definitely had to do with House. House himself was there. I'm getting the distinct idea that we were on a picnic. And I made something with berries. And he looked deep into my eyes and complimented me on my berry tart or whatever.
The dream was weird enough to wake me up around 7, so, being wide awake anyway (who isn't after having a dream with House in it?), I went for a morning run. I normally frequent a 4 mile route, but today I was feeling sassy. I have now achieved a new record of 4.6 miles in an hour. (If you've never seen it, check out Gmaps Pedometer to track how far you run. You can even save a route if you'd like.)
As I was running, I was thinking about how I was going to format this blog. Here's what I came up with to debunk the myths. I'll even give sources on where they come from.
FALSE. I had blond hair when I was two... and then it started getting darker. Now I have brown hair that looks lighter in the summer, but not quite blond. Actually, while we're on looks, let me describe how similar Marlie and I look and why we've been asked over a hundred times since 2001 (that's when we started counting) if we're sisters/twins/cousins/related in any way/etc.
We both have the same kind of Hermione-hair. It's brown, bushy, and slightly more frizz than curl. It can be convinced to curl with hairspray, which we both use. Our hair is dark in the winter, dirty blond in the summer. The only difference in our hair is that hers is about six or seven inches longer than mine. She hasn't gotten an official haircut since she was like five. I like layers in mine so that it frames my face better (I get regular haircuts, thankyouverymuch.).
I love her hair. If it's raining and we have to stand out somewhere (I hate rain), she lets me stand under her hair. It's literally thick enough to be waterproof, which sounds absurd but is completely true. In the summer, she mostly keeps it in a braid. If she let it down, the back of her neck would roast under the heat of all that hair.
In addition to our hair, we have the same basic face-- a little round, but with a good stubborn chin on us. We both wear glasses and like them better than contacts. Our ears are pierced, just one hole in each ear so far. We might go to the mall or an actual piercing place before the summer's out to get one more. She wants a second hole in each ear right behind the first one. I want a piercing on my left ear where it's like a little hole on the outmost cartilage. If it has a name, I don't know it.
Our body shapes are fairly identical as well. We're not lithe people, but we're certainly not fat. We have average-width shoulders with ribcages that are slightly disproportionate. I personally think this gives me an advantage in crew (also known as rowing, more about that another time). A bigger ribcage to me means bigger organs, more air that can fit in my lungs? Haha. I don't know if that's really a fact. My ribcage is so big that you can see it sticking out right under my chest. I like to think that whatever god made me thought I would be way fatter, enough to fill in my overly-large ribcage. Oh well.
On that note, Marlie's weight is less than mine. I think she weighs around 120 and I weigh 130. We're about the same height (I'm 5' 2", she's 5'3.5"), but she practically starves herself. I always tease her to not eat for a week beforehand so she'll have room for a sandwich in her little bird stomach whenever we go out to a restaurant. The reason she doesn't eat much is partly psychological, partly physical. She has a messed-up home life (for another post) where her dad doesn't go grocery shopping much. As a result, whatever's in the cabinets grows moldy and gross. I've seen it. Marlie's therefore grown up with the assumption that food is never good-- it's always gross whenever you open a cabinet and you're hungry. So it's better not to eat it.
Physically, she's lactose-intolerant. The only foods she ever looked forward to eating when we were younger were pizza, yogurt, and chocolate. You can argue, as I do on practically a weekly basis, that she could take one of those pills made specially for lactose-intolerant people so they can process milk products. Problem is, the last time she took medicine was in like 1995. She had a 104 fever. She took one Tylenol. It isn't quite a phobia; she's just reluctant to take anything.
In conclusion... her diet is a sandwich about once a day, some coffee, and her new obsession: bananas. My 'diet' is a lot of fruit for breakfast with some cereal, a sandwich and carrots for lunch, and then whatever my mom's making for dinner. I eat healthier, she weighs less. How I do love just desserts. (If you got that Yu-Gi-Oh reference, you're awesome.)
She's coming over in a bit and I still need to shower. In the meantime, answer this: If you had the power to make any single food calorie-free for the rest of your life, what would it be? Mine would be either green mint chocolate chip ice cream or Costco's chicken pot pie. Mmmm.
Saturday, August 11
Minimum Wage Summer Jobs
So I talked with Marlie and she's coming over tomorrow just to have lunch and sit about for a bit. Every minute with her is precious because she has three jobs.
It's funny-- last year, I had an extremely good job with a start-up dollar store chain. That sounds incredibly stupid, right? My mother thought it was. She fretted day and night, telling me that "That store will close down before March." Then it was "Before April." "Before May." Inside me, there was a little defiant flame that kept going "Fuck you, I'm still working here. What now? Bring it" and I think that's what jinxed me in the end. The store opened in the beginning of February and I was one of their first employees. By December, however, we lost the capital that was keeping our struggling little store afloat. The day after Christmas, my favorite manager called me.
"Hon, we're belly-up," he said to me, and I looked across the table to where my mom sat expectantly and went "Damn."
I still miss that job. It's the underlying cause of my current unemployment. Every time I see a "We're Hiring!" sign, I get depressed thinking about the job I left. Actually, I get depressed thinking about the people I left. Of all the people that store hired, in the end, it was me and my three hard-working managers that were still there to watch the smoke.
Er, the point of all that was that Marlie has three jobs this summer when last year she was the one who had none and I had the great one. I hate her managers because they think we sleep together. Seriously, it's water cooler discussion. Marlie works at the local movie theater as her main job. All they talk about is how when I come to visit and/or pick her up, she lights up like a Christmas tree. It makes me wonder if people have 'just good friends' any more, for Christ's sake.
Marlie's the one with the good ears, unfortunately, so I can't hear what they're saying. Whatever it is, though, is enough to make her blush. That fact alone makes me nervous.
I wish I could say something... but I don't. I like to think I'm tough, but, in the exact manner of hikaris, I would never dare to say anything in that kind of situation. Just a simple "Shut the fuck up" would probably suffice... yet that doesn't mean I have the balls to say it. She does, but she would most likely go further than words. I wondered for the first few couple of weeks why she didn't say anything to them despite that; she's certainly not afraid of confrontations (unlike me).
Marlie was flipping through channels, mostly looking for HGTV's What Not to Wear but pausing now and again on anything that promised violence or sex. The usual. I was sitting next to her, half-reading my copy of Abhorsen and half-skimming the channels with her. I've read Abhorsen so many times that I barely look at the words anymore. Mostly, I look at pages 109, 168, 308, and 355. I have those memorized.
"Hey," Marlie said without looking at me.
"Mm?"
"I thought about what to do to those pricks I work with."
"Yeah?"
"I'm not going to do anything."
I swiveled to look at her in astonishment. I remember saying, "You're not... afraid, are you?"
"No. But I think I like that job."
And that was that. I was so proud of her. This post makes her sound like a mentally retarded bull who charges everyone and everything that annoys her. Her only fault, really, is that she doesn't think anything through. Nothing. I'm the one who thinks about everything too much, overanalyzing it down to the gristle. She's the sort of person who'll try anything once, regardless of consequences.
I have two questions that readers should respond to. If I ever have any readers, that is.
1. Have you or someone you know ever taken shit from their coworkers/boss at a job because they didn't want to lose the position? If you start telling this story, I want you to tell me how it ended as well.
2. Do you over analyze things like me or do you just rush blindly into everything like Marlie? Whichever one you do, do you prefer it, or would you switch to the other if you could?
Introductions
My name is Alyssa. I'm a hikari and my yami's name is Marlie.
Already, I can see the hopeful look in your eyes burn away into nothingness, the cursor on your screen straining toward the 'Back' button to glance over someone else's blog, simply because I used the word 'yami'. I promise you that this is not a fanfic nor an original story. It is not a fantasy, not a dream, and certainly not a Mary-Sue tale. The only reason I used 'yami' is because... I have nothing else to call Marlie.
She is not my sister; we didn't come from the same biological mother. Although we look almost exactly alike, we are not twins or cousins or anything like that. We're not related at ALL. If you must know, my ancestors are directly from Austria. Hers are from Poland.
What other classifications can I dismiss? Well, for one thing, she's not my girlfriend or lover. There is no yuri here, please accept that. I love her more than anything else in this world, but I really don't want to fuck her. The idea isn't at all appealing. It will never happen. Get over it. (I probably just lost ninety percent of my male audience here. Oops.)
She's also not my friend. I have many friends, and none of them could compare to what Marlie is to me. The friends I have know what probably amounts to a lot about Alyssa, the college sophmore who some of them have known for over ten years. A very few friends even know how tight the bond is between Marlie and me. I doubt, however, that even those friends know I would sacrifice their lives in an instant to save Marlie's. I would sacrifice their lives, their family's, their acquaintances, everyone if it was necessary.
Are you getting the idea now? Do you have a word for what Marlie is?
Me neither.
I think that's why I'm starting this blog today.
I guess I should really introduce myself. You'll know me as Alyssa. I go to college in New York at a relatively small liberal arts school. I'm a double major in Information Systems and Business with a minor in Writing. I'm 19 and coming to the end of my second summer as a high school graduate. Er, I'm also female, if you couldn't tell from the logo I made. (Is it just me, or is it way girlie?)
What else? I'm a computer geek, definitely, though more software-oriented than hardware. I don't know jack about hardware other than installing some more RAM. Software matters, on the other hand, is more to me like a comfortable couch. I lounge on it. Play with it. Really, I mess with it. I've been into Photoshop for a while, ever since I began primping photos for Horseland. (Yeah, I was on Horseland when I was 12. Wanna fight about it?)
If you're anything like my college mentor, you too were like "WTF? Why are you minoring in Writing with all that other shit on your plate?" when you saw it. The answer is that I love writing and using grammar. I am a grammar whore. In fact, I have a t-shirt that says 'Bad grammar makes me [sic].' It's awe-inspiring when I go out. I'm also one of those annoying people you had in high school who would get a teacher-produced packet, raise their hand, and warble "Mrs. Plum, I've found a mistake on page three. You surely meant t-h-e-r-e, not t-h-e-i-r." And the poor teacher would grit her teeth and force the clench into a smile. "Of course, Alyssa, thank you. Everyone please correct your hand-out..."
I made so many enemies out of teachers that way. That, and I read under my desk and still do in college, occasionally, when the lecture might just kill me if I didn't have One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest or Madame Bovary. I don't bring Harry Potter or the Twilight series (check out Stephenie Meyer, she's phenomenal) into class. Not because I'm prejudiced to modern fiction or anything-- the literary classics books are smaller and easier to hide when the TA lurks close by.
I read manga fairly often in class too. Unless you get the more expensive and bigger volumes (which I don't. I'm Jewish.), they're like television in very small packages. Oh no, I've mentioned manga. Ready for this? ANIME. Bam. There goes a third of my audience. That said, I'm not an anime freak. Really. My aunt bought me an Inuyasha plushie for Christmas a while ago and I don't hump it at night. It's not even in my bed. Actually, it's not even in my room. Now that I'm thinking about it, where is it?
... just remembered. We had a yard sale two years ago and I discovered exactly what Inuyasha is worth to me: 75 cents.
The anime I'm hooked on currently is Rozen Maiden. It's a girl anime, yes, but it's adorable and has actual substance along with the fluff. Those're my favorite types.
Speaking of things I watch, I don't tend to watch too much TV. Instead I get hooked on series by watching clips of them on YouTube and then pirating entire seasons in 8 GB torrents. Recent faves are House and Veronica Mars. If I had to pick a favorite channel that's live on TV, it would be Discovery Health. Mystery Diagnosis is great.
This'll conclude my post for now. I'm actually waiting for Marlie to call, so if you'll excuse me...