Things I've Never Said #1

Here's to all the things I wish I was able to say, but never quite could...

Dear "Virginia",
I know there's a slight chance you might be reading this blog, but I doubt it. You never were much interested in things that I did, but you always expected me to be interested in the things that you were interested in. I guess our friendship was always like that, one-sided.

I don't know why I've been thinking about you so much this summer, but I have been. You come up at odd moments in certain dreams, in conversations. I still share many of your interests (I am not as obsessed as you are, but I enjoy them quite a bit and when I am watching them, I often think of you). And I don't know why, but I miss you.

You were not the best friend in the world. The fact that you failed to bother to try to keep in touch with me proves that. So often, you were too wrapped up in your problems to notice mine but, to be honest, I was often too wrapped up in my problems to really pay attention to yours. We had drifted. I admit that, towards the end, I might have pushed you away a little. I had written you off.

Yet there were the other moments, too. I will always cherish those Thursday nights I spent at your house where we binged on Coke and Domino's pizza without a care in the world. I will smile as you tried to teach me the choreography to the Thriller dance.

There was no big finale to our friendship, no final blow. It simply dissipated. There was no resolution to any of this. And that is probably what has been bothering me even now, that lack of finality, what could have been. Or it's probably that frustration knowing that you never cared about me the way I cared about you.

I bet you'll never read this, that you don't think about me as often as I think about you. And that's just the way it is. I will go in one direction, you another. We may meet again, but probably not. I wish you well.

Random Thoughts: Friendship

 

Friendship has always been so complicated for me. It feels like the harder I try to hold on to it, the more it eludes me. Over the years, I had to say that I have only found two genuine friendships. By genuine friendships, I mean friendships that are two-sided, friendships that require effort on both sides. You know, with both parties making it a point to stay in touch and hang out, both parties listening and confiding in the other.

I do believe that most of my other friends cared for me in some way, just not enough. Not enough to bother to keep in touch or to pick up the phone. I suppose they enjoyed me while I was around them and then forgot about me while I was gone.

Perhaps this would do for others, but it didn't do for me. I need close, intimate friendships, a variety that's hard to find. So far, a good deal of my life has been desperately seeking these friendships out and mourning when I didn't get it. It wasn't all in vain, though, because I did find it.

It was so much simpler when I was younger, when a friend was someone I could call upon to play with me and slights could be so easily fixed. Yet in other ways it was much the same, because even then I was different from the other kids.

In my lonely moments, it's easy to say friendship isn't worth it. Yet, in better moments, I know that it is. At its simplest, friendships can offer a good time. For instance, I've went away on a lot of two week camps and, during that time, I've made some pretty intense connections. I can't blame them for not keeping in touch given the distance. Friendship makes you feel like you're not alone, like someone actually cares. It gives you someone to confide in. I think a lot of the problem is that I'm looking for too much and I'm way too desperate about it.

I treasure the two deep friendships that I have. One friend is far away, someone I talk to online every day. I don't see her that often, but when I do, I have quite the time with her. The other friend goes to my school. I don't talk to her every day, but we're together more. When we are together, we can't stop talking; we click so well.

This will probably be a struggle for quite some time for me. I don't think I'll ever really understand it, just appreciate it when it comes

Getting My Wisdom Teeth Pulled Out

This was me, but not as nicely made up

Bye bye wisdom teeth!

On Friday, I got my wisdom teeth pulled. Fortunately, I only had two teeth that needed pulling as opposed to a full set of four. Now, I am still at home resting, but at least I'm lucid at this point.

I tried not to think of it most of the summer, because I knew the thought of it would dampen my summer with dread. But as more time passed, I couldn't avoid it anymore. The truth was unavoidable: I was getting my wisdom teeth pulled.

At first, I tried the course of denial. I looked all over online and presented evidence against it (an estimated twenty percent of wisdom teeth procedures are unnecessary). Looking over the evidence, my mother simply said, "It's already scheduled."

After that, I kept insisting that I was going to eat shortly before the surgery, so that I wouldn't have to do it. But then I realized that I would be left just with just my dad and also that I would have to get the surgery eventually so I

might as well suck it up. So I stayed up until like 11:45 and had one last solid food binge, and then compliantly went to sleep.

I didn't have much time to sleep since I had to wake up in the morning, but I figured it didn't matter, because I was going to have plenty of time to sleep once they put me under.

At least the wait wasn't that long. I had some time to read, but it wasn't forever. There was another girl who had to get her wisdom teeth pulled out as well, and she was just as nervous. We both got our x-rays, me first. The x-ray showed that I still had my two wisdom teeth to pull out, both on the same side, and that she had to get four pulled out (she thought she only had to get two pulled out). The dentist said I had the "best case scenario", although the best case scenario would be one where I didn't have to get any out at all (except for him, obviously). My teeth were already impacted, so the surgery was necessary after all.

Finally, I was taken back for surgery. The dental assistants gave me a mask and put it over my nose. They called it laughing gas, but it only made me more nervous. Instead of simply blacking out, I zipped in and out of consciousness, stars and dark spots dancing all around me as I became increasingly dizzy. I registered the sensation of someone putting an IV in my arm while someone asked me if I knew someone from my school who graduated two years ago. The last thing I remember was the dentist asking me to open my mouth.

When I woke up, I was incredibly confused. I didn't quite understand what had happened to me, how I ended up on a chair one minute and laying down on the bed the next. My mom tried to explain things to me, but I was still confused, prattling nonsense as I tried desperately to make sense of everything. I was so dizzy I needed both of my parents to help walk me to the car.

I gained more awareness as the day went on. My cheek was pretty sore, but it wasn't too bad. I also looked like a chipmunk due to my swollen cheek.

For the next few days, I had a hard time swallowing anything and the only thing I could really manage were cold liquid things (mashed potatoes were painful too).  I had (and still have) a battery of medication to take. The swelling in my cheek reduced, which makes swallowing easier now. Now it just feels like I have a giant ulcer.

Overall, I've been healing pretty well. I was told that I was going to possibly experience a black eye due to how close the one wisdom tooth was to my sinuses, but I have not. I also haven't experienced any nausea (if anything, I've had a bigger appetite than ever). Last night, I had my first solid meal in a while (crab cakes, baked potatoes and blueberry pie!). The pills have me pretty knocked out and my mouth is still pretty sore. I'll count the day I've officially recovered as the day I can brush my teeth without wanting to squeal in pain.

The Hiatus

I decided to take the month of July off from writing this blog, because I had realized that, in the pressure to write a certain number of blog posts every month, I had been writing blog posts that haven't been up to the standards that I've wanted to write. So I took that time off.

In that time off, I've spent my energies on other things: other writing projects, other activities to spend my time with. I've decided that I probably shouldn't pressure myself to post as often, because it isn't fair to me and probably not fair to you, especially with school coming up.

I've been planning a few different things. I'll continue the "Random Thoughts" idea to see what my random streaming of thoughts and if it's of any sort of interest to anyone else. I might write some memoir-type pieces on here too.

But I'll see. I'm back now and here to write. Maybe a little less, but that's okay.

My First Day on the Job

 So today was my first day of my first job ever as... a library aide. That's right, this bookie got the best first job EVER working in the library.

 

I literally can't think of a better first job for me. It was total luck that I even heard of the job. I was just going to pick up some books that I put on hold and was going to check out when I saw the job offer. Immediately, I applied and eventually, I got a temporary part-time position.

I didn't know what to expect on my first day, so I just kept my mind open to the different things that I might encounter on the job. I had already done some shelving on a volunteer basis, but I had never done it as a job.

It turns out I have to do a few other things in addition to shelving. Shelving is my main responsibility, but I have other things I have to do as well. I have to sort out the books based on genre to go on the carts we use to later shelve the books; I have to sort out the books that belong to other libraries and sort them out accordingly; I have to go to the book drop and pick up the books there. I'll have some help, as there is a permanent library aide (although we won't always have the same shifts).

Mostly, my first day consisted of a lot of training and a lot of paperwork. I had to sign a lot of agreements. There wasn't much to it.

 

What's Up With All the Confederate Flags in the South?

Written on June 21, 2014
There were a few things I noticed about North Carolina during my stay there. The one thing I kept seeing over and over again were Confederate flags. I even saw a bunch of Confederate flags as I drove through Virginia. 

When I say all over, I mean all over. Literally even in the gift shop, where it was on the shirt saying "My Redneck Boyfriend."

I don't get it. I mean, I genuinely don't get it. One, it's been like two hundred years after the Civil War has happened. Get over it already and stop being so butthurt.

Now I was told by a Southerner (my cousin's husband, who is from Texas) told me that most people just saw it as a sign of Southern pride, and didn't give much thought to it. But my, what an awful thing to be proud of!

 

But seriously, can they be that stupid? How do they not think of the Civil War when they see the Confederate flag? More importantly, how can they not think of everything the Civil War represented?

 

I recognize the fact that the Civil War is far more complicated than it is often presented as. The Union good/Confederacy bad dichotomy doesn't give the Civil War justice. It doesn't take into account the deeper conflict between the North and South, nor does it take into account the fact that the Civil War's purpose was not simply to "free the slaves". Most Southerners never even owned slaves; rather a very small portion of wealthy Southerners owned the vast majority of slaves. Many Northerners were against slavery not because they cared about the welfare of slaves (although many abolitionists did), but because they feared that the expansion of slavery might endanger the chance of them getting jobs.

 

Yet the issue of slavery was definitely a huge contention in the Civil War. The Confederacy's only real difference from the Union is that it allowed slavery explicitly in its Constitution. The Confederacy was formed on the fear that the Union was going to ban slavery, which was the backbone of the Southern economy, even though it had not done so at that point. So, in essence, the Confederate flag represents slavery, the system that created the unique flavor of American racism that we know today. So yes, having a Confederate flag in your front yard is racist and I find it ridiculous that anyone would argue otherwise.

 

Man, that's one thing about the South I'm not going to miss. Confederate flags are quite the eyesore.

 

 

 

 

Hand Dryers

EVIL!

Written on June 14, 2014

 

Public bathroom users, we have a modern day crisis: Hand dryers are invading the modern public restrooom. It's true. When you go to wash your hands, instead of being provided with the customary paper towel, you get this contraption. They are singularly ruining the public bathroom experience as if it wasn't bad enough.

 

Here's a fun fact: hand dryers don't freaking dry your hands. I mean, theoretically they do. If you stand there for like fifteen minutes, maybe your hands would actually be dry. But who has time for that? I don't. So I usually have to end up putting it under there for a little bit and then wipe it on my pants. And then that leaves me with a wet butt. Like who wants a wet butt?

 

Now, they say it's for the environment. I'm sure there are some eco freaks who buy into that argument. I mean, you're cutting down waste and all because less trees are being chopped down and all that jazz. After all, on the surface, it makes sense. Really, though, it doesn't, because you have to remember that oh yeah, it doesn't actually work. So it's useless. There might as well be nothing there. 

 

Anyway, I know these places love to pretend like they care about the environment, but, in reality, it's all about the money. Sure, a paper towel dispenser might be cheaper to install at first, but I guess in the long run, it saves money since they don't have to keep replacing public towels. Excluding rest stops, most of these places make more than enough money to cover the costs, though, so this is a pretty lame reason to me.

 

Yeah, yeah, I should be happy it saves some trees, but it's a little hard to be grateful when I have to walk outside with a wet butt.

 

So call me Tree-Killer but I really need good-old paper towels.

 

Much better