Tagged

I got tagged. I haven't done one of these things in awhile, but Lindsay Alice (L.A.) tagged me, so... it happens.

1. What's the most fun work you've ever done, and why?
-It's a toss up between selling people candy at Fannie May (especially on Valentine's Day when males come pouring in begging for advice) and sliding around on the floor at Steak 'N Shake in an attempt to "clean" it. Hehe.

2. Name one thing you did in the past that you no longer do but wish you did (one sentence max).
-I miss having sleepovers and sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor eating tons of junk food.

3. Name one thing you've always wanted to do but keep putting it off (one sentence max).
-I want to learn Italian and go to Italy, but I haven't much money.

4. What two things would you most like to learn or be better at, and why? (two sentences max)
-I would like to be a better writer, because there is always room for improvement, and you can always learn something new.
-I would like to learn to be better at relationships, because relationships of all kinds are important and necessary, and you can always learn more about yourself and others.

5. If you could take a class/workshop/apprentice from anyone in the world, living or dead, who would it be, and what would you hope to learn?
-I would take another French class from my terrible French professor who taught me more than I've ever learned from anyone. I would want to more about the history, culture, literature, and grammar of the French language.

6. What three words might your best friends and family use to describe you?
-Optimistic. Random. "Sweet."

7. Now list two more words you wish described you...
-Gorgeous. Graceful.

8. What are your top three passions (can be current or past, work, hobbies, or causes - three sentences max)?
-These are fairly obvious, I suppose, but in no particular order: God, and being a light for Him, even when I don't like him very much (which does happen). Writing. Languages (in particular French) because language is important for understanding people of other cultures, and avoiding miscommunicating with people in general.

9. Write-and-answer-one more question that YOU would ask someone (with answer in three sentences max):
Question: If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go, and why?

Answer: I would go to Rome, Italy because it has history, culture, and beauty. And I've always wanted to go there.

10. Tag two people.
-I don't know two people that have blogs. At least not actual blogs. Myspace blogs. Does that count?
We'll say yes. Bethany and Sarah B

Whew

I'm editing a story I wrote when I was sixteen. The dialogue is good. Mostly. The characterization isn't bad. I use the word "that" too much, and the passive voice is even worse. The plot's solid. Everything needs work, though. Sometimes I simplify too much. And then I over-explain other things.

It's called "The Curse of True Love." I was watching "Sex and the City" earlier and "Carrie" brought up an interesting point. She said something about love not looking the way we imagined it would in high school. True, obviously. But I think the movie, "Love Actually" has an equally valid point. Love is all around, and anyone can be in love.

I think that we have a hard time identifying what love is, because as a culture, as a society, we associate love with things that love is not.

I like that butterfly feeling. That doesn't mean it's love. I like hugs and kisses (the chocolate kind, too), and I guess, like anyone else, I like the idea of being in love.

I think love hurts. I don't think love is any more perfect than anything else. That's one of the things I love about that movie ("Love Actually"). Love pops up in unexpected places and it doesn't always work out. People are honest about how they feel, and they are pretty terrible sometimes, too.

I need to sub tomorrow. Well, today, I guess. Friday. Only a halfday, but it's for 6th grade Language Arts. Hopefully, we're doing something like a play, where I can assign the ones the ones that keep talking a big part. :)

Randomness and subbing

grapefruit. a scary castle in the middle of a lake that no one can get to. a trap. disappearances. murders.

With my dvd player out of orer, I have all the time in the world to concentrate on exactly what I want to concentrate on: writing. It's too bad I need noise to do that.

For a distraction, I'm making yogurt and maybe baguettes if I get that far.

I subbed at the Middle School today. I'm so glad I was never a Junior High boy, I'd hate to think I was ever as obnoxious as they were.

One young man (I didn't catch any of their names as I was subbing for a woman who is more of a teacher's aid for the students who struggle in school), started out by introducing his friends as "Fagbag" and "Moron." He then insisted he was trying to help me get the others to read (it was the 20-minute silent reading time. I was utilizing it to remember "The Giver." Great book).

Once we returned to class, I sat beside the three boys, who insisted on talking, poking one another, and being all-around pains. "Miss, he touched me!" "You touched him first. After I told you to stop touching him. Three times." He had surprisingly long nails, I noticed. Long even for a girl. I was almost jealous. How sad is that?
"But I can't help it!" "I don't care whether you can help it or not. You're supposed to be following along in the book."
"I am." I already knew he wasn't, having caught a glimpse of the top of the page. "Really? Which page are we on?" He gave me a look. "12." "No." "13." "No." "15?" "No. 14. Now follow along." "I was close!" "READ!"
His friend (the one he'd called Moron), had just thrown a pencil at the teacher. He was moved. While the teacher was admonishing him, one student kicked another one. The one that got kicked asked, "How do you always do that when he's not looking?" (Okay, honestly, I almost laughed at that, because the kid who got kicked was the only kid in the class paying attention AT ALL, and somehow he kept getting in trouble.)
I don't know why Middle School Boys exist. All they do is make life miserable for everyone else...

How many frogs do you have to kiss before you find your prince?
Not exactly a rhetorical question, but close.

can one return a ladder?

I do the dumbest things, all of the time. It seems to be a family trait, for evidently my cousin does the same thing. But that's besides the point.
Yesterday, I went to a friend's house, and locked my door on the way out, of course forgetting my keys, as I am apt to do. Now, because I'm aware of my inability to remember my keys, a friend has a copy. She got in a car accident this week. While she borrowed my car, I borrowed her key to my apartment, and I still have it.
So, when I returned home (in desperate need of a toilet), I nearly panicked. I tried Ace Hardware. It was closed. (This is the one bad thing about small towns. Well, one of the bad things. Everything closes early - it was only 7:30!) I tried Pamida. Also closed. I again considered trying to find a ladder, I could steal, but it was more of a flightful fancy than anything I'd actually try.
I drove back to Warsaw, calling my friend on the way so she could find out for me which stores had ladders for the best price, and what time their Ace closed. 8. I'd be late.
As I pulled up to Walmart, I realized that Lowe's was open, and I could probably go there, if need be. However, it wasn't necessary, as I bought a ladder at Walmart (after using the restroom). I found room for it in my car, and drove back to the apartment. I placed the ladder against the balcony and climbed up.
It was a good two feet short, and as I climbed the ladder, it shook slightly. I stood on the top part (where you're not supposed to stand), and clutched the wood rails of the balcony. While climbing, I reminded myself that I'm not afraid of heights. And at the top, about to pull myself over, I said, in French, "Tu n'as pas peur! C'est simple!" I laughed as I stepped onto the balcony... I only console myself in French if I'm really pissed or really scared. Up and over, I opened the door and let myself in. (This is only one of the reasons I do not lock my balcony door.)
Ahh, yes. So now, the question remains: can I return the ladder, or do I have to keep it?

The Dogs

Today, I was walking around Camelot Lakes, one because it's good for me, and two because I like to go for walks.
When about 25ish minutes into my walk (which usually takes 45-50 minutes), 4 dogs, which had been playing in a field nearbye decided that I looked like a good person to walk with. Next thing I know, four dogs are jumping up and down on me. They're very sweet dogs, and they just wanted to play, and I do like dogs, but not four of them. And not four strange dogs.
They followed me for the next 45 minutes (it took a bit longer with the additions). I'm all worried they're going to get hit by a car.
I called both numbers on their tags. I called my friend, who gave me the number for the police. I called the police. I was informed that they weren't high on the list of concerns, and that I would have to stay with them until someone came. I said no, they weren't mine, added that it was cold outside, and that I only called because I don't want them hit by a car.
The woman on the other end of the phone said rather tersely, "Well, you're just going to have to figure something else out."
I almost laughed, and answered, "When they decide to do something about it, tell the officers this is where the dogs are..." gave her the address, said goodbye, and muttered something under my breath. The dogs jumped on me some more. They seemed to do that whenever I was on the phone.
They followed me to my apartment complex, but not inside. No dogs allowed. They're home now. Or on their way, at least (The first two phone calls paid off).
And, being the smart person I am, I took pictures.

The Search for the Perfect Job

I had an interview the other day, and on my way there, I was struck by how I really didn't want to go to it. It's not for a position I'm interested in, nor is it for a company that I particularly care about, nor is it for some.thing I have any desire to do.
While driving to the interview (an hour and a half from where I live!), I thought about the jobs I AM interested in. For some reason, they all seem to involve spending money in order to receive information about the job. In other words, I have to pay a potential employer to give me information about a job that I may not be interested in pursuing.
The last time I received that email, the woman explaineed that this is so that the employer can test to see if the potential employee is truly interested. How can I be interested in a job if I don't know what it entails? That's like giving your credit card to a stranger.
Actually, in today's society, it is like giving your credit card to a stranger.
It makes me think of a conversation I had with a friend's daughter while I was studying abroad in Paris during Nuite Blanche. (Nuite Blanche, though it literally translates to "white night" actually refers to a night of insomnia. In this case, the whole City stays up all night, with light shows and chemical snow and concerts and free food and all kinds of fun things.) While we were walking through Centre les Halles, we spotted a homeless man, setting up his bed for the night. Claire tugged on the hand she'd been holding. "Robin," she asked in English, "Why is that man sleeping there?"
I thought a moment, trying to figure out how to explain to an almost-nine-year-old the concept of homelessness. I finally told her that he didn't have money or a house, and so he slept there, where it was warm, and where people wouldn't bother him.
She looked at me and very astutely asked me, "Why doesn't he find a job?"
Before I answered, she interrupted me, "Well, does it cost money to get a job?"
"No, it does not," I told her, shrugging.
But that's where we're headed.

Paris

I miss Europe so much. Talking to a friend on AIM just makes me miss it more. I miss the old buildings, the people, the bustling, the roads, and the efficient transportation system.
Ironically, I even miss not being able to smile because someone will inevitably take it the wrong way.
One day, in my phonetics class in Paris, we were discussing terms for different buildings and things. Somehow, the class got distracted (this only happened about once a day or so), and someone was asking about building in Paris, and she explained how there are no buildings built within the confines of Paris (currently) for various reasons. Someone pointed at the building across the street from us, and commented on how old and majestic it was. She laughed, "That? That buildings only 300 years old! It's young! Not even worth talking about!" The Americans in the room looked at one another guiltily, feeling stupid.

Well, I've been intending to start my own blog or get a website for sometime, and today seemed like the day to actually do it. That's the goal behind this year: doing.

It can be hard to actually do things sometimes. Talk about doing them? No problem. I can talk about cleaning my apartment all I want. That doesn't do the dishes. But, no more talk. After I sign off, I will actually do the dishes.

So, no talk about my (seven) New Year's resolutions. Just know that they're there, and that I am (hopefully) DOING them.