Jumping in ...

I hope there is water under me . . . not asphalt.

Hot August Nights?

I generally avoid temptation unless I can't resist it. - Mae West

These last few posts are going to be posted on the same day ... I just haven't taken the time to post them until now (So, before reading past this point scroll down to For Better or for Worse, read that. Then, of course, read Then Again, Maybe Not. Done with that? Good. Now you may proceed). But let me update you on things a bit. My boss wants me to go to the week-long Hot August Night's car show. I would love to do that. It was a lot of hard work but a blast last time. We stayed in this killer hotel, with this huge pool and a sky coaster. If I can get my teachers to allow me to take my finals a week early I can do that. If not, I might have to come later. That would suck big time for me because ... guess who is going to be there the first three days if his PO will let him? I can't get the thought out of my head that "what happens in Reno stays in Reno." Stupid, I know, but still. I mean, heck, I need to do something impulsive for once in my life, right? And making out ... that shouldn't be too big a deal.

He called me up and talked to me yesterday for about an hour. I got to hear his story, finally, about why he's getting a divorce. I also found out that he's still majorly in love with his ex. I have to admit that would be a problem for me. I don't really want to be kissing someone who is in love with someone else. If he didn't love anyone, I would be cool with that. But if he's still in love, it would very much be me being a rebound. So, I don't know, we'll have to see how that goes. He also got the most atrocious hair cut. Ha ha. It's absolutely horrible. So, I'm torn at the moment between hating his hair and loving his smile. He has the most gorgeous lips. Lame? Cheesey? Definitely ... nevertheless, it's true.

Then Again, Maybe Not

Just Say No. - D.A.R.E.

Things with Chad have gotten better. He came in on Wednesday and I said hi, and he said hi back. He didnt say much but I knew he wasnt mad at me anymore (because I had text him a bit and found out that he really wasnt all that annoyed in the first place ... just confused). There were also a lot of people in the room and he and I never talk much when that is the case. I kept trying to catch his eye so I could see if he was really okay with me. He came and stapled his paper at my desk - stupid thing to note, I know, but I am the only one with a mechanical stapler and he usually comes to my desk and does it here. However, last time I saw him (on Monday) he went to an empty desk and used a stapler off of there. Anyway, he was wearing this orange cap that hid his hair and really wasn't all that flattering on him. His face was all flushed and I thought that maybe he was getting sunburned. He didn't make eye contact with me. Just once or twice a glance, and then away. When he left, not two minutes later, I got a text from him saying, "You look beautiful!" Just like that - randomly. And then I realized he wasn't getting sunburned he was blushing. Which I thought was really cute. Anyway, that got us talking. It also got him to renew his offer for us to make out. It's almost worse this time, though, because I already told him no and he got over it. So now he is determined to be patient. He told me so. So, here's this flattering, good-looking, sweet guy that is all wrong for me, who is determined to wait me out ... Now I wonder how my determination will compare to his, when i wasn't really all that determined in the first place ... just shy.

For Better or for Worse

Sharrie is now engaged. I have all of two months to help her put together a reception. The good news is, since it's a temple wedding, I don't have to worry about planning the wedding. So there is a good chance this should be doable. She got engaged Friday and Saturday Josh was at drill so I decided that that would be a great time to take Sharrie window shopping. We had a lot to do and just a little time to do it.

We decided to start with wedding dresses. We went to a shop in North Ogden where the sales lady was super solicitous (no pun intended). She told us we had to set a limit on what we are willing to pay for a wedding dress because Sharrie shouldn't try something on that she can't afford that she might fall in love with. I called Mom up and asked her what the maximum limit was. She asked how much we could rent dresses for and I told her it was about three hundred and fifty dollars. And she said, "Well, then that's the limit. You can either buy a three hundred and fifty dollar dress or rent a dress for three hundred and fifty dollars." I was a little surprised so I said, "Mom, I am asking about the most we would be willing to spend on a dress." Mom: "Yeah. About three-fifty." Me: "Uhhh... okay.... I'm going to let you go now." - I was a little ornery at her tight-fistedness. I got off the phone, turned to Sharrie, muttered, "Buzz killer." And then told Sharrie to find a nice gown and I'd foot the difference. (That might sound way generous, but realize that I only have one sister and she's only going to get married once - hopefully - so this is my time to splurge on her and I don't want her buying some white prom dress for her wedding). So, she looked through the dresses, found a few, and we went to try them on.

The first one was pretty, but it fit her kind of weird. The second one the sale's lady picked out. It was on sale for two-something and was prettier than the first dress, but this one did look like a white prom dress. The third one she tried on was gorgeous. It was perfect for her and she fell in love with it immediately. She knew this was the one she wanted. With the alterations that needed to be made the dress would cost seven hundred dollars. I didn't think that was too bad for a wedding gown. I called Mom up to come down and take a look at it. We got it for her. Mom ended up talking to Dad about it and they decided to pay for all of it. I felt a little disappointed because I wanted to be able to help out with it.

I was pushing Sharrie and Josh to make some decisions - like the wedding colors, getting their wedding announcement pictures taken - Josh got annoyed at my seeming rush for us to make these decisions, but I can't even start planning until I have some of this taken care of ... and, after all, it wasn't my idea to have the wedding set two months from the day after they propose. Anyway, after they took some "away time" they came back and decided on the colors and the cake. So, we are making progress. It's going to be a crazy couple of months though.

Now, enough about them. I want to talk about me; I am just self-obsessed like that. So, I recently got text which was a lot of fun. One of the first people I decided to text? Chad. I made it seem like an accident, as if he was just an accidental addition to my mass text telling everyone that I had text. But we got talking and I admitted to him that I had never been kissed. I know there are a handful of guys who like the idea of remedying that for me, but never has anyone been so genuinely interested - and I was interested too. I figured I just had to work to get over my shyness and we could go have a go. What better story is there than kissing a tall, good-looking, thirty-one year old ex-con for a first kiss?

Anyway, I was very tempted and was just trying to get my courage up and talk myself into it for a few weeks. Problem is, when I imagined my first kiss, I always imagined it just happening. Not, like, a planned engagement or anything. It seemed weird to me that way. Yesterday I had a long conversation and ultimately I decided we were really wrong for each other. A phrase he said - that, believe me, is not worth repeating - made me realize how vast our differences really are. At that point, I kind of let him know I wasn't interested. He wasn't very happy with me. He said he didn't understand me, and I guess I don't blame him. For whatever the reason, I don't like to make people feel bad, so I told him that I'd tell him anything he wanted to know. He said he didn't get why I was talking to him. I told him the truth - I am crazy attracted to him, and that doesn't happen very often with me. I like his confidence, his attitude, his smile. He said, "But you dont want to make out? Confusing..." I told him that I didn't want to because I was too shy to take him up on it, and because if I already have a crazy crush on him, liking him more would only put me in a position I dont want to be in.

The conversation was over at that point. I saw him today at work and said hi. But he's still not very happy with me and it was way awkward. I dont blame him. And I feel way bad. I am starting to regret my decision. I might just up and call him sometime and meet up with him somewhere. Who knows....

Sisters Again ...

Growing up is never easy. You hold on to things that were. You wonder what's to come. But ... I think we knew it was time to let go of what had been, and look ahead to what would be. Other days. New days. Days to come. The thing is, we didn't have to hate each other for getting older. We just had to forgive ourselves ... for growing up. - The Wonder Years

So, Sharrie is finally back home! I, of course, bawled when I saw her at the airport. Before she came back I imagined the time we'd have together. It would be wonderful. I was really, really good friends with her boyfriend. He'd call me for everything - to vent, for advice, or simply to talk. We'd see eachother at least once a week and had a blast every time. And, as you know, Sharrie and I are best friends. So, I'd have Sharrie and Josh here. We'd have so much fun! But ... it didnt quite turn out that way. Almost immediately Sharrie readjusted to having a boyfriend, and they've been inseparable ever since... And I'm once again the third wheel. Before Josh left on his mission I was okay with that. It happened gradually and I really wasn't that social anyway. Since he's been gone, I got used to having Sharrie to myself. When Sharrie left, I got to be way more social and got used to having Josh to myself. Now, I'm very much the third wheel, and, while that hasn't changed, I have. And I've had a hard time coming to terms with that. It took me about a week and now I think I'm back to my normal self. I go about my own business and do what I want to do and let them do what they want to do, and if it involves me I participate - if I don't have something else planned.

Flirting Again

Why does a man take it for granted that a girl who flirts with him wants him to kiss her - when, nine times out of ten, she only wants him to want to kiss her? ~Helen Rowland

So, here's how it went:

Chad: Hey, Slim
Me: Hi, Freckles
Chad: It doesn't bother you when I call you "Slim" does it?
Me: No. Does it bother you when I call you "Freckles"?
Chad: No. And anyway, you look like you've put on some weight since I first met you.
Me (agast): Um... No, I haven't.
Chad: Yes you have.
(pause)
Chad: And it's not upper, it's lower.
Me, thinking, sarcastically: Ohh, good!
Me: So, just to clarify - I've got a big butt?
Chad: Well, not big, just bigger.
Me: Ah, right. Well, gee thanks. Now you've given me a complex.
Chad: No! It's not supposed to give you a complex. It's a compliment.
Me: Right. I don't think that's the same thing.
Chad: Look, no, it's good. Now you can tell people that Chad's been checking out your ass.

And the conclusion of this narrative? I don't know, you tell me. My married co-worker is checking out my "ass"? I've put on some weight but it looks good? I couldn't tell you. This happened a couple of weeks ago. This week I was talking to him, and he was telling me that my butt looks good now, but I still need to put on ten more pounds. And I was like, "Oh, yeah? Where should I put it?"

Chad: Well, maybe that the lower end is taken care of, you can work on the upper.

Me: Oh, yeah? Well, I don't exactly think I can choose where to put it.... Well, not unless I had a lot of money.

Chad: Well, tell you what, we'll go halfsies.

Me: Oh yeah? Well I'm not sure that's fair to you.

Chad: What do you mean?

Me: I mean, I get the better end of the deal. I get to keep them.

Chad: Naw, 'cause when we get divorced I get my half back.

A Wink And A Wave

I work from awkwardness. - Diane Arbus

I was in a meeting the other day with my boss. We were just discussing life and scheduling and such. Joy (my manager) comes in with a kid about my age who apparently is our roofer - as in, he's repairing our roof. My boss, who likes to make things awkward - just for the fun of it - pointed to me and told the kid, "See? Here's one you can date." Then he turned to me and explained, "My wife keeps trying to set him up with our daughters..." -turning back to the kid- "But you can date her, too."

Obviously things were pretty awkward at that point, and so I decided to ... well ... enhance that embarrassment. I got this cheesy grin on; I winked, and then I wiggled my fingers flirtatiously at him. Not joke. Smile, wink and wave. I thought he'd laugh and we'd move on, but he completely clammed up. And I about died - of repressed internal laughter. He thought I was serious. Not only would that make me an absolute social retard, but the fact that he believed my sincerity would indicate that he suffers from some sort of quasi-narcissism. He didnt look at me for the remainder of the time in the room, and I think I pretty much traumatised the kid.

Proposal

I will buy you a diamond ring, my friend, if it makes you feel alright. I'll get you anything, my friend, if it makes you feel alright. 'Cause I don't care too much for money, for money can't buy you love. - Beatles

Last Tuesday Josh and Jason dropped in before Josh had to go to work (he's a nurse and he does night duty). Jason decided he had to make an emergency run to Wal-mart and wanted Josh to accompany him. Josh was hesitant because he had to make sure he got to work on time. I volunteered to go with Jason. Ultimately, Josh went as well because he figured it was on his way to work anyway.

After gathering Jason's emergency supplies (shoelaces and pomade - no joke ... pomade, for his hair and the shoelaces just happened to be a bonus) we were getting ready to leave when Jason leans over to me and asks me if he can get me anything. Wanting to be flippant and witty, I look around in hopes of finding something expensive he could get me. My eyes fell on a particularly shiny item and without thinking, I blurted out, "You can get me a diamond ring..."

There was silence as I realized what I had just said and how it sounded. I looked over at Jason and then dissolved into embarrassed laughter. I must have laughed for a good five minutes.

But there you have it, my first proposal - and yes, I did the asking, after all, this is modern society, and I guess I must be a modern girl.

Fortune's Vanity

Vanity is my favorite sin. - Al Pacino

I have an admission to make. I am vain. I haven't always been; I used to not care at all how I appeared to others. However, sometime between my childhood and adulthood that changed.


Now, don't misunderstand me, when I say "vain" I simply mean that I'm preoccupied with how I look. I spend a good two hours in the morning doing who knows what to look what I would deem "presentable." It's not Tinkerbell vanity where I think I'm drop dead gorgeous and can't pull myself away from the mirrors or anything. It's actually nearly the opposite. Most people who know me wouldn't know this ... my family is the exception. They know this because I spend a good portion of my morning (and other intervals throughout the day if I'm home) primping.


Well, today we got Chinese food and I had the opportunity to open a fortune cookie which told me that "Happy events will take place shortly in your home." I knew that it was referring specifically to Sharrie coming home, and thought that the cookies were inordinately insightful today. I went down and was watching New Moon (laughing my butt off at all the bad acting, I might add) and decided that my movie was in deep need of popcorn. As I was popping my corn, I decided I'd have another fortune cookie to tide me over. I'd already had a fortune cookie, but so had everyone else, and, as my family will testify, I'm a mooch. So, I took the cookie.


Still waiting for my corn to pop I went in the bathroom to check out my appearance. I'm usually rather derogatory but I felt kind of pretty today for some unknown reason. I stuffed half the cookie in my mouth and thought, "Eh. You're looking pretty good today. I think you could hold your own against Kristen Stewart..." just as this thought was processing I glanced down at my fortune which read, "You are apt to give too much thought to appearance." Now, that's a keeper. Haha.

Flirting With Marriage

All women are flirts, but some are restrained by shyness, others by sense. - Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Alright, I guess it all started with a joke. He was in the office whining about something he had to do. Probably a place he had to deliver parts to. Strangely enough I found it annoying, after all it was his job to deliver parts. What did he think he was getting paid to do? My annoyance bubbling over I turned to him and said lightly, "Hey, Chad? Stop complaining." He turned and laughed at me, "That's funny, coming from a woman." I glared at him scathingly, "Obviously you don't know me that well." He looked at me for half a second, as if deciding something, "I know you wear boy's underwear."

I was speechless. Where on earth had that come from? "What?!" He repeated the phrase, slower this time, "I know you wear boys underwear." I choked out a mirthless laugh and sent him a confused look. "What? No, I'm pretty sure I don't." His smile faded slightly and he said in a would-be serious tone. "Yeah. Not like boxers. Like those white ones that boys wear." I glared at him for half a second. "Whitey Tighties?" I supplied.

"Yeah. Those."

How on earth had this conversation gotten here? How did he know what color underwear I was wearing?

I assured him that they were indeed girl underwear, and then moved on as quickly as possible. I was sure I was blushing. I thought that was the end of it, but I soon found out that the conversation had set a precedent. From then on, he'd see me and ask me what color underwear I was wearing. (I made sure he couldn't catch another glimpse. I assume that he had snatched a glance when I was bent over in front of the filing cabinet.)

If I was surprised that he would bring up my underwear in a work setting (much less at all), I was shocked when I found out he was married. He was blatantly flirting with me, and I would even flirt back a little (once I got over "The Underwear Incident"). I was slightly consoled when I found out he was in the middle of a divorce. Perhaps that's horrible to say, but I felt that having a married man flirt with me was horrible, while having an almost-single man flirt with me wasn't so bad.

That reassurance was short-lived, however. For not much later I found out he was still married... and not planning on a divorce. The problem was, I couldn't get over my flirt mentality. I was so glad that things worked out between him and his wife, but he still flirts with me... and I flirt back. I have a huge amount of guilt over this, but that's pretty much where our relationship stands. It's nothing huge, really. It's all quite innocent. No more underwear references. Just more like, "When I leave the country and run to Mexico, I'm taking you with me." Kind of thing... It's the first time I've had to deal with that though. The married guys don't flirt with me, and I've always treated the married men with respect and aloofment (is that a word?). Yet, he's always been married, and always been flirting, and I don't know how to change that dynamic. Note to all: Don't flirt with married men. Duh?

Morning-Hater

The average, healthy, well-adjusted adult gets up at seven-thirty in the morning feeling just plain terrible. ~ Jean Kerr, Please Don't Eat the Dasies, 1957

I'm not a morning person. When I say "morning-hater" who pops into your head first? Well times that by two, and that's me. I hate mornings. Always have. You know how kids generally wake up about eight-ish on their own, until they hit their teen years? I never did. I'd go to bed at eight-thirty at night, and sleep in 'til ten in the morning. And I would have slept longer but my parents rule was that I couldn't sleep past ten.

Here's my typical morning routine: Hear the alarm clock, hit the snooze, hear the alarm clock, hit the snooze, hear the alarm clock, hit the snooze, etc. for about forty-five minutes. When I finally look at the clock and realize I'm late, I get up grudgingly, grab myself some cereal, some comics and go into the bathroom. I lock the door, turn the fan on, and eat in there. Gross, I know. But it's not like I'm licking the counter or anything, and the point is, when I'm in the bathroom, no one bothers me. After about a half hour or hour I feel like vocalizing and I might go out into the land of the living. AKA the non-bathroom-part-of-the-house.

Once, about three years ago, my dad decided that he was sick of me grunting in response to his "good mornings" and insisted that I respond to him in the morning. So, I did. The problem was the conversation started to get longer. Dad: "Good morning, Rochelle." Me, mumbling: "mornin'." Dad: "How are you, Rochelle." Me, mumbling: "good." And it would continue on like that for a while. This lasted for about two days until Dad realized that I was just not a morning person and that he kind of missed my usual reply, and he told me I could go back to "grunting" my replies if I wanted. So, I did. Dad: "Good morning, Rochelle." Me: "Mmmph." Dad: "How are you, Rochelle." Me: "Mmmmph." And then I'd go into the bathroom with my cereal.

The point of this story? I just had a really miserable morning. Why? Because my dear father decided to give me the evil eye, and my mother wanted me to proof a paper, and I had woken up (awakened?) 45 minutes late (as usual), and it was the morning. The result, me bursting into uncommon tears and downing 3 B6 in a hope I'd recover my day. Now, lest you think I'm a baby, imagine waking up in the morning with your father standing over your bed yelling his head off at you. Now, that's not what happened, but that's what it was like. He realized it was a misunderstanding, but I'm telling you, I was sufficiently traumatized.

Hopefully, I'll be able to avoid such mornings in the future.

Just Say "No"

Don't find love; let love find you. That's why it's called falling in love, because you don't force yourself to fall; you just fall. - Anonymous


Alright. So I've been percolating on The Jason Situation. I think the best way to go about this is to simply tell him I'm not interested. You know those long lists that girls make that have all the attributes that they would like their Mr. Right to have? Well, I've never made one of those. Never. I suppose part of it has to do with the fact that I absolutely loathe lists of any sort. But, I think most of it is the fact that I don't feel that I can put a personality into a list of traits. While I've never verbally or literarily voiced my thoughts on the matter, I usually know fairly quickly whether or not a guy and I could hit it off. I've known Jason long enough to know that we can't hit it off. Sometimes I can put these impressions into words, and sometimes I can't. My biggest problem, I think, is this: I want a husband like my dad.

Girls growing up tell their daddy that they will marry them when they grow up. A lot of girls, when they grow up, realize why marrying someone like their daddy is not a great idea. I won't ever suffer from that disillusionment. I might realize it's not attainable until you're twenty years into marriage, but I won't ever think that perhaps someone like my dad wouldn't make a good husband. What's so amazing about him? He and my mom are perfect partners. They both work hard. My mother has never had to ask my dad to take out the trash, or clean up the house, or mow the lawn, or anything. As a matter of fact, she frequently has to ask him to stop working, to take a break. Now, he's not a workaholic or anything, he just gets things done. My mom's the same way so they go perfect together. I won't go for a guy who has a propensity toward laziness, lack of motivation, or a strong inclination towards televised sports. It's not happening. Mostly, because I refuse to be the hen-pecking wife. I'd rather be single and pull my own weight, than be married and pull both of our weight.

Wow. Enough introspection. The point is, Jason's not the one for me. We just wouldn't be good for each other. So I think the best way to handle this is to just tell him I'm not interested in dating. The hard part will be explaining why. We've always had open communication, we're good friends, and I'll have a hard time coming up with an answer to that. It's never as easy as "just saying 'no'" is it?

We'll see how it goes. And I'll let you know.

An Asian Date

Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?

So, my Valentine's weekend was pretty good. It started out on Saturday where I got to hang out with my life-long friend, Stephanie, and her boyfriend. We went to see Sherlock Holmes in celebration of my birthday. Yeah, my birthday was weeks ago, I know, but Steph and I have an understanding - "Always late, but never forgotten."

Our tradition is to take each other out to dinner or a movie for one another's birthday for some one-on-one time. So, we decided on Sherlock Holmes. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when I got an email saying "Hey, Chelli" - pronounced like "Shelly", and yes, it's a nickname, but one only those who knew me when I was eight or younger can use without risking friend-inflicted injury - "Alan and I were wondering if we could take you out to Sherlock Holmes this Friday." So much for one-on-one. It was still fun, though the evening was cut short, because, after arriving back at Steph's place, she asked me if I wanted to come in with her and Alan. I told her I'd been around couples enough to know that imposing on their one-on-one time isn't typically appreciated.

On Saturday I went to Maddox, which is amazing by the way, with the family and got salmon, as usual. I ate more raspberry-butter rolls than salmon, but it was completely worth it. I also hung out with my sister's boyfriend, Josh. He and I are good friends, which bodes well for him, because if I didn't like the person my sister dated I would make sure he didn't stick around for long. I have my ways, believe me. So, we got to hang out and watched Les Miserables with Liam Neeson and the Captain Barbosa from Pirates of the Carribean. Good show, see it.

Sunday, Jason - Josh's little brother - called and asked me out for Monday, since it's President's Day and we didn't have school. I told him yes. The problem with this? We've tried it before. It's a long story, but let's see if I can sum it up. He and I were always just friends. But at times we tentatively experimented with the idea of moving past that. At one point, while he acted like he was interested while dating others, I pretty much out-and-out asked him if, as far as I was concerned, he was ever going to pursue anything. The problem was, he acted like I was a backup plan ... if the other relationships he was trying out, didn't work out, then at least he had me. I got sick of that after the third (or was it fourth?) girl. So I decided to discuss it with him. The outcome? The whole, original, "I like you as a friend, but there's no chemistry there."

I kind of was like, "Alright." But then I was mad for a few months about that. Hey, it was insulting, regardless of how it was put. It was still a rejection. Well, this was last summer, to give you an idea of the time frame. And ... now he's asking me out. I think I said yes 'cause he caught me off guard. But we did go on a date. But here's the best part. We went to Gateway Mall in Salt Lake for the date. We had just finished dinner and were slowly meandering toward the theater where I was going to see Avatar in 3D for the second time, when a young Asian man stopped us on the sidewalk.

Him: "Hey, sorry. But can I say something."

Us: "Sure...?"

Him: "I just want to say that you two are a cute couple. You look great together."

Us: (laughter)

Him (looking at Jason): "I want you to know that this is a very attractive girl."

Us: (laughter)

Him: "Are you a couple?"

Me: "No. Not really."

Him (looking at Jason): "Do you mind if I ask her for her phone number?"

Jason (being the completely easy going guy that he is): "No. Go ahead."

I proceeded to give him my phone number. Why? I was caught off guard, the same reason I said yes to Jason asking me out. Meanwhile, he and Jason chatted about how we knew each other, and whether or not Jason was sure it was cool. His name was Ellias or something (pronounced kind of like Elliot, but with an "s" at the end instead of a "t"... sort of). Anyway, we laughed so hard when he left. I told Jason, "You're supposed to say, 'No, it's not okay, and I do mind' in situations like that." And then I hit him, hard, in the face. Just kidding. In the arm, and not so hard. But it made my day. I told Jason, jokingly, "See what I have to go through?" But really, I felt like saying, "Ha! See? Perhaps you weren't sure whether or not you're interested in me, but obviously other guys don't have that problem." I mean, the kid didn't even know me, and he decided to ask for my phone number despite the fact that I was obviously on a date.

It was too good. Anyway, that's the update for this week. I'm out.

Inconsistent

A sister smiles when one tells one's stories - for she knows where the decoration has been added. - Chris Montaigne

Okay, I have an admission to make. (Can you make an admission, or is it a confession that I'm thinking of?) Well, either way, you get the point. It all comes down to this. You may have noticed that all of the posts are from me, Rochelle, the younger of the Soul Sister pair. Well, that's because my sister isn't here. She is in Argentina, on her mission. She will not be back until May. I started this blog in January with the assurance that she would be home in March.

Kay, so here were my thoughts, "Alright, she'll be back in March and I really want to start a blog, and I'm sure I can convince her to do one with me." - After all she is the consistent journal-writer, and what is this if not a public journal entry? But then, being the slightly indecisive person she is, she decided that she won't be back until May, so I've got to keep this thing floating until then, all by myself.

I know that it doesn't take much to keep blogs afloat. More of the problem is getting them afloat. But I'm such an inconsistent blogger (as I'm sure you now know) that the buoyancy is a little low. The other problem is, her life is a lot more interesting than mine. I was kind of counting on that. My typically uneventful life being the foil to her, generally, complicated one. Now, I'm a complicated person, but I keep my life simple. She's a simple person, so her life needs to be complicated. Don't misunderstand me, not "simple" as in dumb, but as in, you can read her like an open book. But reading her takes less effort than reading a book. And perhaps I'm not complicated, just ... atypical.

Anyway, back to the point. I, the inconsistent blogger, am going to be the sole writer for this dual-blog until my sister deigns her return. Thereafter, hopefully, the blog will improve in consistency and content. Until then, adieu.

Lousy

But whether I'm the rose of sheer perfection, a freckle on the nose of life's complexion, don't bring around the cloud to rain on my parade. - Fanny Brice,  Funny Girl, 1968

Alright, these past few days were sh*tty. There's no other word for it. Work sucked ... school sucked more. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong, did. It all started when my co-worker had to go to a funeral. No big. I had back-ups. Or so I thought. (Oh, I guess I haven't told you. I work in an office 90% of the time ... Sometimes I deliver, but mostly I answer phones.) Now, even on slow days phones can ring simultaneously, so the rule-of-thumb is that there must be at least one person backing up a sales-rep ... if only to put the waiting customer on hold. The phones were ringing off the hook and I was doing my best to answer all of them, but it was a struggle. When they finally stopped ringing, I had a question, so I went from room to room trying to find a co-worker. No Charlie (he'd gone to lunch), no Sandy (she'd gone to lunch), no Joy, no Steve, no Maria. Where was everybody? Then I heard Joy's laugh. I followed it upstairs. And guess where everybody was? Upstairs, in the break room, laughing and having a wonderful old time. 

Kay, keep in mind I was already annoyed and overwhelmed at this point. I looked at Joy, my manager, "Okay, I have a question for you. What is the route number-for-Kanab-and-WHY-am-I-the-ONLY-ONE-downSTAIRS?!" The last was said in a rush of frustration. "Oh!" she said in surprise, "Is no one else down there helping you?!" Surprise. Right. Everyone was upstairs! Who did she think was helping me?! She was supposed to be my help!

So, after my slight fit, I got some help. But, more problems. The Kenab person's order never got processed. My fault. So he needed it a week ago, and he didn't have it. It would ship Fed Ex - which means that it would take 3-5 business days to get to him, if he's lucky. So, needless to say, I had a very pissed off customer. During my trying to sort this out and dealing with angry customers, I had to print out ship-outs (and all of my print-outs must have gained lives of their own and decided to crawl away because the person who tags these ship-outs says he never got the print-outs). Anyway, needless to say, I was late leaving work and, therefore, late to class.

Now, class was fun. I got there late, tried to sneak in the back, but, of course, all the back seats were taken (perhaps the teacher's notorious for spitting... who knows). So, sneaking in wasn't an option. The teacher, during a brief pause, asked who came in late. So, I raised my hand and she wanted me to introduce myself and tell the class something about myself. So, I said, "I'm Rochelle Brown, and what do you want to know?" People threw out a few suggestions so I told them what my majors were and joked that I was afraid of public speaking (since she was making me talk in front of the class ... get it?). She - meaning the professor - took me literally (though I was only half-serious) and told me that I didn't act like it.

Anyway, the ironic thing is I found out that for the class we are required to do a 50-minute group oral presentation (that's right, 50!). Well, first of all, I hate groups. I almost always end up carrying the entire weight (the weight that should have been distributed between two-to-four other people - depending on the group size). Whenever I've decided that I won't be the person who puts in ten-times more effort than the others, the project always ends up mediocre. Furthermore, 50 minutes?! This is an English class, not a Public Speaking class, for heavens sake. And these oral presentations start week three. So, at least 50% of the teaching, from week three and onward, will be by the students. That did it. There's no way I'd spend a ton of money to do a 50-minute school assignment and have students teach me. No way. Even if I wanted to, I barely have time to do homework in my own free time, much less coordinate homework time around two-to-four other people. No way.

But, like a good little student, I sat there for the remainder of class. The problem was Mr. Gross was sitting next to me. It was the seat that was unoccupied when I came in, so I sat there. Now, he obviously had skin problems, and although I thought it was a little gross, I overlooked it and sat next to him. And I was okay with it. Until Mr. Gross became Mr. Picks. As in his skin. As in he started picking at his oozing skin while sitting next to me. Can anyone say gag reflex? Okay, that surpasses gross. All of a sudden I was having major difficulties with impulse control. I nearly got up and walked out of the class (or at least switch seats - even if it had to be the professor's chair), I almost wrote him a message saying "Stop it!", I just about raised my hand and asked the class to take a vote on whether or not Mr. Picks was allowed in the room. But, I ignored it.... well, sort of. I had my body turned so that my back was to him; I had stopped taking notes (don't ask me why I was taking notes if I wasn't planning on staying in the class) and had my arms tucked in my coat and wrapped around my waist. And, once again, I was controlling my gag reflex, because, even though I couldn't see him, I could hear him scratching at his face. Gross! But I hadn't done anything drastic, so I figured that qualified as "ignoring."

Anyway, I snuck out of the class as soon as possible and went to bed with the prayer that today would be better than yesterday. But, it's not, so far. More ornery customers ... some of whom I referred to Joy. I dealt with one annoyed customer while she dealt with the other and then when we both got off the phone she was griping about how she was sick of people. I laughed bitterly and said, "Me too!" And she turns to me - or rather turns on me - and snaps, "Just be glad you don't have to do what I do!!" Okay, I do have to do what you do, I just don't get paid as much as you do to do it!

No, I didn't say that, but I wanted to. Then she goes into one of her rants about how we, meaning my co-worker Tom and I, need to keep our desks more organized. As if all the businesses problems would be solved with organized desks! (By the way, they are all organized - she just doesn't understand our system). I just nod and smile and pretend I care about what she's saying.

Boss Man comes in later and says, "So, I hear you had a problem with Kenab." I said, "Yeah..." "Well, you're lucky it got figured out. If it were up to me I would have sent you to Kanab to fix the mess." Right. I simply told him (while thinking There's no way you would have gotten me to do that. I had class.), "Yeah, well it would have been a better use of my time than class was."

Anyway, the whole two days weren't bad. Just the huge majority of it. Two funny things happened. One was today when a customer called and I had to put him on hold. I usually say, "Thank you for holding. This is Rochelle. How may I help you" when I pick up. Instead, to this customer, after I took him off hold, I said, "May I hold you?" You know when the brain short circuits and you can't speak? Yeah, that's what happened. The guy laughed and said, "Sure you can hold me. Come on up!"

The other semi-funny incident resulted from that earlier story of being left all alone in the office while everyone else was upstairs socializing. I had to be mad at someone fore the situation, so I decided to be mad at Charlie for going to lunch. Charlie was wearing a black hoodie that day, and, about twenty minutes after my little fit, he came up to me and said, "Hi, Rochelle." I just turned my head a little, saw his black hoodie, and glared at him and went back to work. He said, surprised, "Did you just glare at me?!" And I swiveled my chair around to face, and chastise him, and realized it was Boss Man. "Oh! I'm sorry! I thought you were Charlie!" Just then, the company's owner walked in and Boss Man turned to him, and said accusingly, "Rochelle just glared at me!" It was all in jest, so, I didn't get in trouble.

But yeah, that pretty much was it. The two semi-funny things. Everything else, so far, sucks. I hope this weekend is better.

World Literature

Insane people are always sure that they are fine. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy. - Nora Ephron


Alright, I suppose I should wait before I report on this class, seeing as I already had an entry today, but I know I will forget the pertinent information if I wait. First of all, you should know that my teacher's wacko. Completely. He acts like someone who has ADD or ADHD or is on PCP or maybe even LSD. Or some other stimulant or hallucinogen, natural or otherwise. And he has this really annoying habit of asking "what?" as in "like, what?" or "please fill in the blank" type of questions. I was extremely annoyed with it at first, but after five minutes or so I was sure I was going to spontaneously combust into fits of laughter - which wouldn't be very advisable in a classroom setting. Well, instead, I resorted to writing some of his peculiar form of syntax down so that I could share it with others later. Here are a couple of them (and remember, these are practically verbatim):

• Some books are less European-style, more what? (Here he pauses, expecting an answer. None is forthcoming so he resorts to self-answering) More our kind of stuff...

• Much of what we are is what? (Pause. Silence.) Dependant upon what? (Pause. Silence.) Experiences.

I don't get it. Does he actually expect us to answer these inane, unanswerable questions? Or is it just a nervous habit? Like, where most people would say "like", "um...", or "you know" he says "what"? Is that it? I don't know if I will ever know. It did become less irritating with time. And he is quite funny (one of my favorite things he said was, "Women in a truck don't want a man. Men in a truck are lonely." It was funnier to hear than to tell, I guess. But we all laughed pretty hard). So, I guess I'll give him a chance. One thing's for sure, I'm going to get an A out of the class. It's practically impossible for anyone to get below a B, and then he makes it easy to bump it up to an A. So, this one will be cake.


Anyway, during this class period where the teacher mostly rambled on about everything (from suicide to bungie jumping - which might not seem like that big a stretch - to Oedipus and Freud), I met this kid, or rather he introduced himself to me. Now, no big, but he's friendly, good-looking, and seems to think I'm funny (which is always a plus in my book). Down side? He's going into English education and he's bald. Fine, he's cute enough that I can get over the baldness - he has really pretty eyes. But I'm not entirely sure I can get over the English education thing. I know! Shame on me to take a guy flirting with me and jump to future life and nuptials ... well, and, truth be told, that's not even it. I simply know from years of Sunday school education that "You marry who you date." Wait?! Dating?! He didn't ask me out or anything! He just flirted with me and walked out of the wrong side of the building with me after class.


Okay. How's this? He seems like a great kid and I'd love to be friends with him. But if he's going anywhere further than that (which I'm somewhat suspicious of) I have to say ... English education?! Really? To teach high schoolers? Do you just need a bachelors degree for that? That is crazy! I'm halfway done with my bachelors and I could no more teach my major to others than I could breathe underwater! It's just not possible! No wonder the education in this country is so pathetic. Besides, why wouldn't an individual take two more years of school and get a masters and become a professor?! Okay, now I'm ranting and rambling. Not the kind of R&R people usually go for. I guess it's cause it's late. Well, I'll sign off then. But don't worry, I'll keep you posted.

Peas and Carrots

Sisters is probably the most competitive relationship within the family, but once the sisters are grown, it becomes the strongest relationship. ~Margaret Mead

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Rochelle - the younger sister (if you're in the mood to label). I am 21 - well, not yet, but I will be in 12 days, so I figure that's close enough - and I'm the peas of the peas and carrot duo. Why am I the peas? Well, simply because my fifteen-month older sister is the carrot. Think about it. Kids hate vegetables, they just do. But hand them a carrot stick and most of them will drop into a Bugs Bunny impression and eat it cheerfully enough. But with peas ... it's a different story. Those who like peas, really like peas, but those who don't ... just don't. Well, stick around and it might start to make sense.

I'm in the process of working full-time. Kay, fine, not full-time, but nearly 36 hours a week. And attending the local university for nine credit hours. I would love to do twelve, but I found that going 8 a.m. - 8 p.m. Monday through Thursday, is about all I can handle - seeing as I typically have homework to do over the weekend. I'm double majoring in English and Social Work... or maybe English and Psychology. I've yet to figure out whether Social Work or Psyche is better. I do know, however, that I'm majoring in English. Therefore, I signed up for English classes.

I'm signed up for United States Civilization. Oh, right, that's not English. But it's a general requirement. I have this particular class on Monday, and, for the most part, it seems like it will be a good class. The teacher seems to be genuinely interested in his subject, and that's always a plus. The downside is that there are some rather weird students in this class. Like, one who believes that we should all get the black plague again so that it will kill off the one-third of the world that is unemployed. Right, genius idea, we'll just hand out a noncontagious black plague pill along with their welfare checks.

I, luckily, have Tuesdays off. My class today is World Literature (and yes, that is an English class). I'm not as excited as I guess I should be to attend, but that's just because I'm way tired. I will let you know how it goes. And tomorrow's class is British Lit: Renaissance ... I was told the teacher in this one is particularly good. We'll see.

So, onto the social aspect of my life. Kay, admittedly, it's not much at this point. I typically avoid dating if at all possible. For one thing, I'm generally much too busy. For another, I just don't find it fun. I'd much rather get together with a bunch of people as a group. However, Stephanie (a girl I've been friends with for 12 years now) wants to set me up with some guy who has apparently gotten sick of setting himself up. We were going to double a couple of weeks back, but Stephanie's boyfriend, who had just returned from his LDS mission in California, decided to play soccer and break both the shin bones in one leg. So, this set up is postponed for a while. Which I'm kind of glad about.

Well that's it for now. I'll keep you posted.