TheUnbreakable's Xanga

Can you say purple pizza? Fuzzy bananas? Pickle nose?

Mon, 18 May 2009 16:48:22 GMT

So a couple of nights ago, 4am, I woke up to a loud noise that sounded like an explosion, and the feeling that my bed had just been dropped on the floor. It was terrifying, probably more than if I would have been awake at the time. But because I was sleeping, I woke up panicked and couldn't think logically. I got out of bed and walked around my whole apartment looking at everything, half asleep, I guess just checking that everything was okay. I completely convinced myself that I was having a bad dream, and walked back to bed. But then I realized Lola was freaking out too, hiding under my bed. So I figured it was probably a loud truck or something.

When I woke up for work, mom called to tell me she heard there was an earthquake in Roanoke! Unbelievable. For some reason the whole thing is really disturbing to me. There was no damage, and people are done talking about it. It's actually kind of a joke now. Most people didn't even feel it. (The epicenter was probably my apartment.) But man, it really messed with me. It's something I never imagined I would feel. The ground isn't supposed to move or drop suddenly, it's the ground! Does that sound crazy?

Speaking of crazy, the hag next door and I have made up. We didn't hug it out or anything, but she knocked on my door, handed me a catnip plant, grunted a little and coughed up some smoke. It was a nice gesture, and Lola would probably thank her if she did anything but lurk in dark corners and stare.

Work is alright, I'm doing pretty well at it still. Sometimes it sucks a lot, but it's worth the money. I got yelled at by a customer yesterday, but she was a mean old bitch and that isn't my problem. It's her family's. There are a lot of mean old bitches in this town, and if I ever see them outside of work I am going to trip them and run.

Most of the time I'm exhausted by the kids. I spend hours each day making fart noises, jumping around, chasing kids, telling really bad jokes, making ridiculous faces, and tickling babies with stuffed animals. I've lost a lot of weight. I wipe drool, I get spit up on, and both my pants and my shoes have been peed on. Oh, and I have to smile about it. And then the parents call corporate and complain about bad customer service.

I actually didn't like kids at all before this job, but now they're the best part. I moved to a city by myself, I have no friends, and all I do is work and pay bills. I'd give anything to be 5 again and not have to worry about so many things. So when I get to play with the kids, I feel a little bit better. At least they aren't passive aggressive. And maybe little D' Shawn drools in my hair, but when I get to make him laugh, and he reaches his hands out for me to pick him up-- that's worth it. Maybe I just want to be appreciated.

Today I went furniture shopping. The woman helping me, Dot, was really nice and funny. We found a cute sofa and an ottoman that I really liked, and I decided to buy them. She asked me to sit down with her, so I did, and she said something that made my entire day, "I am so proud of you." It surprised me a little, because she doesn't know me at all, so I asked why. She said, "You moved here alone for a job, you have your own place, you're picking out your own furniture. And when I asked you if you wanted to buy them, you said yes without calling your parents or boyfriend for permission. There aren't enough independent young women like you."

I got broken up with yesterday. I was crushed. Dot made me feel better than I thought was possible.

Thanks, Dot.

Damn dog.

Sun, 05 Apr 2009 01:54:15 GMT

I officially moved to Roanoke yesterday, and so far everything is great. I love my apartment so much; It's been really fun setting it up exactly how I like it. Living alone might be a little boring, but it's also liberating. I can do anything I want in my own apartment! As long as it's legal. And if it isn't, I can just close the blinds.

Roanoke is triple the population of Morgantown and a million times more diverse. It's pretty great being in a town filled with such a variety of people. Back home it feels like everyone is exactly the same. Here, they feel a little less predictable. I think that comes with larger places-- more unique people and more vegetarian/ vegan food.

My landlord back in Morgantown (Andrew Smith of Smith Properties, LLC) was a HUGE ASSHOLE with pit stains. And my new landlord here in Roanoke (Jay Foster) is very nice, respectful, and professional. And also kind of dreamy. Doesn't hurt.

When I first saw this apartment, there was a giant barking dog in the back yard that scared the hell out of me. Huge, loud dogs have always scared me and probably always will. The guy showing me the place said he didn't know whose dog it was but that it would be gone when I moved in. Today I went into the dark creepy basement to do my laundry, and on my way back up the stairs I was greeted by that dog barking and coming down after me. I completely lost my shit, ran into the laundry room and shut the door behind me. I checked my pockets and realized I didn't have my phone, and that's when I accepted that I would be in the basement until one of us died, hopefully the dog. Luckily though, after about fifteen minutes I heard the dog walk away long enough for me to sprint up the stairs and through my back door. He ran up to my door right after it closed and barked like crazy.

I called my landlord and told him, so he called the old lady who was secretly keeping the dog, and she came and knocked on my door. She was just as scary as her dog. Dirty robe, yellow teeth and fingers, greasy, smelled like alcohol and smoke, rough voice. She drunkenly apologized, told me she was pissed off about how old she is, and asked me to come meet the dog and pet him. I declined. She said, "He's a big baby, just because he's big doesn't mean he's scary. You're big, is anyone afraid of you?" I said, "Shut up, hag." No, I didn't.

But seriously, if that shit happens again I'm moving.

Luckily my uncle Chris invited me over to use his dryer. And while I was there I had dinner with him and Laureen. He made this stir fry with fake chicken and beans and vegetables. Hopefully he'll teach me how to cook a little because that was DELICIOUS. I'm glad I went over, it made my day a lot less sucky.

Tomorrow! I'm driving to Charlotte to start training for my job. Pretty excited about it. Last night my new manager Rya(?) called to "touch bases." She seemed super nice, and she said training is really fun. Apparently she just went last year! People move up fast in this company, hope I'm one of them. Another girl I'm working with- Amy- called me tonight to say hi. Also super nice. There are two other people working with me- Jamie and Josh I think? And if they're as cool as Amy and Rya, this will be a fun job. Some papers I had to sign said specifically not to blog about my job, but I don't think this counts. I'm not giving away any information or talking crap on the company so I'm good right? No one reads my blog anyway. Except Maria, Amberlee, and my creepy ex- boyfriend, so I should be safe.

That's all, I'll post photos later!

The move.

Sat, 28 Mar 2009 04:19:03 GMT

Yesterday Ash, Nathan and Kimmy came over, and helped Andrea and I move a bunch of furniture into my UHaul. Kimmy also brought over food from the Olive Garden, two kinds of wine, and cheesecake. That was amazing, she always does stuff like that, just overly generous. I had a lot of fun sitting around talking with them, and I almost wish I hadn't because it's making this whole thing harder. I wish we could all get in a big fight and I could flip them the bird and speed off to Virginia. But unfortunately I love them a lot, and I don't see that changing.

Tomorrow Kimmy is following my Uhaul in her car, and we're going to Roanoke to move all my junk into the new apartment (with help from my Uncle Chris who lives a couple of blocks away.) I'm excited because 1. I'm an adult or whatever, 2. I get to try new things (like living alone and working a lot?) 3. I realize that I am lucky to get a good job in this kind of economy (and as an artist) and 4. I've wanted to live in that city since I was a kid.

But today it suddenly hit me that I will be FIVE hours away from my mom and brother. I have trouble as it is being an hour away, because I always worry about my mom's health and worry that I'm not involved enough in Sean's life. And also, strangely, my mom and brother are my two best friends. No one makes me laugh as hard as Sean. And no one makes me feel as safe as my mom. I can't imagine not being able to run home to them after a bad week. And not to mention Ashley Baker, who has been within spitting distance for a decade. What if something happens to one of them and I'm not there? What if something happens to me and they aren't there?

Thinking about this gives me the worst anxiety. Several times today I could feel myself start to cry, so I'd look up and widen my eyes and think of something unrelated. But I know it's going to come. And when it finally does, it's going to be ugly.

My new apartment.

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 22:51:46 GMT

I wrote this a few days ago.

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 04:20:55 GMT

Last week mom emailed me a notice she got from careerbuilder.com, a new photography studio is looking for full-time photographers. It's one of those cookie cutter portrait studios- but it seems that they pay really well for something I can do very easily- so I emailed them my resume and portfolio.

A few days ago, they emailed me and asked to set up an interview. That interview is the day after tomorrow. And the weird thing is, they didn't need me in PA like the ad said-- they need me in Roanoke, Va. My entire family minus my mom and brother live there. And because it's pretty far away, I'm driving to my grandmother's house tomorrow and spending the night there, then driving to Roanoke the next day.

If I get the job, they're going to fly me immediately to Charlotte, NC for a two week paid training program. I don't know what they're planning to teach me though. I guess not all of the people working there have gone to photography school. I'm sure it'll be a two week paid cakewalk.

I won't get my hopes up. If it doesn't happen, whatever, I'll be fine. I'll just look somewhere else. BUT there are so many things that make this the perfect opportunity for me. For one, I'll be moving away from my momma. It will force me to be independent, and I need that. But, in case I get homesick (and I will), conveniently THE ENTIRE REST OF FAMILY lives there. So I will have help in deciding where to live, which parts of town are good/bad, where to have my oil changed, whatever. And it pays so well, more than I ever expected to make, so I can afford a nice place and plane tickets, and I won't have to be a poor college kid anymore.

I'm afraid that if I get the job, I will hate it and I'll be stuck. Or what if they fire me? And will I be really lonely without all my friends? (Yes.) And what if mom gets sick and I can't be there? I'll be so worried about her if I'm in another state.

So many good things, a few bad things, kind of exciting, kinda scary. No reason to think about it yet; I haven't even interviewed and the economy is crap. But I've gotten every job I've interviewed for up until now, so I'll stay positive.

UPDATE:

I got the job, and I'm moving tomorrow.

PSA

Fri, 06 Feb 2009 01:30:32 GMT

Dear world,

All of the following symbols:

@, #, %, ^, &&, *, ~

have actual grammatical purposes that do not include making your name look pretty. Especially if you're 24, married, and have children. Stop being an asshole.

&&love,
*~..-~{SaRah}~-..~*

Broke ass.

Tue, 03 Feb 2009 01:46:33 GMT

It's been a long time.

I fell down a billion stairs on my ass, broke my tailbone, and had to take this semester off. Been laying around so much, forced to think about my life, having a bit of a crisis. Might move to Baltimore in May. Might move to Pittsburgh, too. I desperately need direction. Missing my friends a lot. Reading a lot. David Sedaris books, science books, a mystery book from my grandmother. Puzzles of teapots and dogs playing poker. Painting for money.

Brandon teaches me new things every day, makes me a smarter person. Also, a happier person. I'll be keeping him around. Permanently, maybe.

I want to go walk outside and take pictures, to drive in my car, to not be in pain. Soon enough. I need it to be warm, maybe I'll move south. I think I've forgotten how to blog.

I love you, Maria, for reading this nonsense faithfully, whether I even write or not.

Keith Olbermann on Prop 8

Thu, 13 Nov 2008 07:26:19 GMT

Finally tonight as promised, a Special Comment on the passage, last week, of Proposition Eight in California, which rescinded the right of same-sex couples to marry, and tilted the balance on this issue, from coast to coast.

Some parameters, as preface. This isn’t about yelling, and this isn’t about politics, and this isn’t really just about Prop-8. And I don’t have a personal investment in this: I’m not gay, I had to strain to think of one member of even my very extended family who is, I have no personal stories of close friends or colleagues fighting the prejudice that still pervades their lives.

And yet to me this vote is horrible. Horrible. Because this isn’t about yelling, and this isn’t about politics.

This is about the… human heart, and if that sounds corny, so be it.

If you voted for this Proposition or support those who did or the sentiment they expressed, I have some questions, because, truly, I do not… understand. Why does this matter to you? What is it to you? In a time of impermanence and fly-by-night relationships, these people over here want the same chance at permanence and happiness that is your option. They don’t want to deny you yours. They don’t want to take anything away from you. They want what you want — a chance to be a little less alone in the world.

Only now you are saying to them — no. You can’t have it on these terms. Maybe something similar. If they behave. If they don’t cause too much trouble. You’ll even give them all the same legal rights — even as you’re taking away the legal right, which they already had. A world around them, still anchored in love and marriage, and you are saying, no, you can’t marry. What if somebody passed a law that said you couldn’t marry?

I keep hearing this term “re-defining” marriage.

If this country hadn’t re-defined marriage, black people still couldn’t marry white people. Sixteen states had laws on the books which made that illegal… in 1967. 1967.

The parents of the President-Elect of the United States couldn’t have married in nearly one third of the states of the country their son grew up to lead. But it’s worse than that. If this country had not “re-defined” marriage, some black people still couldn’t marry…black people. It is one of the most overlooked and cruelest parts of our sad story of slavery. Marriages were not legally recognized, if the people were slaves. Since slaves were property, they could not legally be husband and wife, or mother and child. Their marriage vows were different: not “Until Death, Do You Part,” but “Until Death or Distance, Do You Part.” Marriages among slaves were not legally recognized.

You know, just like marriages today in California are not legally recognized, if the people are… gay.

And uncountable in our history are the number of men and women, forced by society into marrying the opposite sex, in sham marriages, or marriages of convenience, or just marriages of not knowing — centuries of men and women who have lived their lives in shame and unhappiness, and who have, through a lie to themselves or others, broken countless other lives, of spouses and children… All because we said a man couldn’t marry another man, or a woman couldn’t marry another woman. The sanctity of marriage. How many marriages like that have there been and how on earth do they increase the “sanctity” of marriage rather than render the term, meaningless?

What is this, to you? Nobody is asking you to embrace their expression of love. But don’t you, as human beings, have to embrace… that love? The world is barren enough.

It is stacked against love, and against hope, and against those very few and precious emotions that enable us to go forward. Your marriage only stands a 50-50 chance of lasting, no matter how much you feel and how hard you work.

And here are people overjoyed at the prospect of just that chance, and that work, just for the hope of having that feeling. With so much hate in the world, with so much meaningless division, and people pitted against people for no good reason, this is what your religion tells you to do? With your experience of life and this world and all its sadnesses, this is what your conscience tells you to do?

With your knowledge that life, with endless vigor, seems to tilt the playing field on which we all live, in favor of unhappiness and hate… this is what your heart tells you to do? You want to sanctify marriage? You want to honor your God and the universal love you believe he represents? Then Spread happiness — this tiny, symbolic, semantical grain of happiness — share it with all those who seek it. Quote me anything from your religious leader or book of choice telling you to stand against this. And then tell me how you can believe both that statement and another statement, another one which reads only “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

You are asked now, by your country, and perhaps by your creator, to stand on one side or another. You are asked now to stand, not on a question of politics, not on a question of religion, not on a question of gay or straight. You are asked now to stand, on a question of…love. All you need do is stand, and let the tiny ember of love meet its own fate. You don’t have to help it, you don’t have it applaud it, you don’t have to fight for it. Just don’t put it out. Just don’t extinguish it. Because while it may at first look like that love is between two people you don’t know and you don’t understand and maybe you don’t even want to know…It is, in fact, the ember of your love, for your fellow **person…

Just because this is the only world we have. And the other guy counts, too.

This is the second time in ten days I find myself concluding by turning to, of all things, the closing plea for mercy by Clarence Darrow in a murder trial.

But what he said, fits what is really at the heart of this:

“I was reading last night of the aspiration of the old Persian poet, Omar-Khayyam,” he told the judge.

“It appealed to me as the highest that I can vision. I wish it was in my heart, and I wish it was in the hearts of all:

“So I be written in the Book of Love;

“I do not care about that Book above.

“Erase my name, or write it as you will,

“So I be written in the Book of Love.”

Good night, and good luck.

Friday, November 07, 2008

Fri, 07 Nov 2008 18:02:31 GMT

Losing it.

Wed, 29 Oct 2008 18:58:30 GMT

You know how you'll look at a clock sometimes, and it's all the same number? 2:22 or 3:33, etc. For the past three weeks that has been happening to me nearly every time I look at a clock. Not every time, but strangely often. At first I thought it was funny and I'd make a wish when it happened, but since I acknowledged that it is happening so much, IT HAPPENS MORE. It's almost like I've programmed my brain somehow to check the time at those exact times. But when I woke up in the middle of the night, it was 5:55, and when I woke up this morning it was 11:11. I've been trying to take a picture of the clock every time it happens, just to document it, but the clock always changes too quickly. Oh and last time I filled up my gas tank? $22.22.

It's funny now, but I could see myself going insane if this keeps happening, like that movie The Number 23, someone's going to find me in my room, red-eyed, writing numbers all over my walls.