I move in 10 days.
I'm freaking out.
I'm singing to Into The Woods.
I'm Cleaning my apartment for good.
I need light bulbs. All of my lights went out at the same time....
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
The Way I See It # 583: Train Observations
(This post was written while en route to Washington D.C Saturday night.)
I often forget the comfort of traveling alone. The independence, the wanderlust, the never-tiring view from my cabin window, lost when I am fixed to the city or the suburbs. I wish Richmond had it’s own metro system; that way I could enjoy the thrills of the city, and still be home in time for dinner. There is news of revamping the trains system between Richmond and Washington, and I’m all for the change. I feel alone in my train-appreciation, and while the thought of having a bullet train with a 90 minute commute to Washington is mouth watering, it’s also semi-decidedly off the menu. The cost of creating an entirely new train system, including repairing the tracks that Richmond has, would cost well over 4 billion dollars. That type of moolah is rarely seen these days, well, for things that don’t have much consequence for the rest of the Country. Maybe our new Governor will have some affection for strategically placed pork and get it done.
I think I might enjoy going off on my own to travel and just “figure things out for myself”. On the one hand I would be terrified. If I told you that I was open to even the smallest changes, I would be lying. Being out of my comfort zone is difficult, I’m the first to admit this, and the first to try and address it.
But traveling costs money. This trip alone will cost me $60 round trip. But the plumping of my savings account is encouraging now that I have two jobs. You’ll often find me scribbling down my accounts in my newly purchased treasury book ($12.00). Does this make me money obsessed? Who isn’t now-a-days? With unemployment looming, and my financial future in question, I’m not ashamed of breaking down my budgets, writing down expected profits, and planning accordingly. I think knowing how much money you earn, and how you spend it is more important when you’re young. Old habits die hard, they might as well be good ones.
I think that at every important age you can look back and review what you’ve done with your life. This happens to be pretty depressing, but only because I’m so young. What would be more depressing is if I only ever amounted to what I was at this age when I am older. I doubt this will happen. I have big dreams, and when I honestly think about it, I am completely convinced that I am going to succeed. I don’t know if this is foolish or not. Perhaps it is the dumbest thing in the world to have high hopes and standards for yourself. I’ve always been one to have high standards, and I tend to hold people to them. I think that was a major reason my last relationship fell apart. I’m trying to do better, but I really think that my whole life will be guided by these standards that I try to live by.
I feel like I’m growing up and learning how to take care of myself. This may lead to unintentionally hurting others in the process. No one has higher demands than my own mother (apparently standards are genetic), and while I have standards of my own, I am bound by hers first and foremost. I value our relationship, but sometimes I feel like I am a child. My acts of rebellion are often squashed before that can fully take effect, and almost always they are done in an attempt to prove my independence, and usually prove that I am, in fact, not smart enough to handle everything and anything.
Train watching is something I like to do while riding the rails. I tend to pick out people my age to watch.
I’ll describe the passenger to my right.
He was the second person I saw when I arrived at Main St. Station, and the one I focused my subtle attention to. A young man, around my age I would guess, standing at around my height was sitting in the wooden benches when I threw my stuff down. Slightly heavy, his hands were resting on his stomach while he peered past his glasses down at the book in his hands. He is mousy with curly brown hair, and instantly reminded me of a boy I used to go to school with. Constantly teased, he was the butt of every joke, but this boy sitting in front of me seemed fine with the wear, at first. His face was serious, mouth down-turned and stern, and slightly pursed. His attire was typical, camouflage shorts, nearly matching the rumpled duffle bag at his feet, and a dark shirt. He glanced up at me, our gazes met, and he looked down again. In a situation like this I rarely get intimidated. I continued to study him, and he either didn’t noticed, or didn’t care to point it out. It wasn’t until his raised his arm to adjust his glasses that my thoughts of my school friend were confirmed. Several neatly aligned scars were etched into his inner forearm. He’s dealt with feelings everyone feels, but responds to differently.
Back in grade school I would have been embarrassed and stunned. While stunned, I’m not embarrassed for him. Nor do I think of him any less, but I feel sympathy. Though I have felt the range of human emotion, I never once felt compelled to deal with it in that way. I’m grateful, but I don’t see this as anything other than my own controlled intentions. I don’t like to be out of control, and I guess that neither does this boy.
Fast forward to us sitting across from each other on this train, and he received a phone call. The first I heard him speak! I am disappointed by what I hear. Not only is he loud, but he ungraciously uses profanities, and I’m left wondering “Can looks really be this deceiving?”
This train just passed over part of the Potomac, I assume, and the water was so still it looked like glass. I’ve never seen that before.
I often forget the comfort of traveling alone. The independence, the wanderlust, the never-tiring view from my cabin window, lost when I am fixed to the city or the suburbs. I wish Richmond had it’s own metro system; that way I could enjoy the thrills of the city, and still be home in time for dinner. There is news of revamping the trains system between Richmond and Washington, and I’m all for the change. I feel alone in my train-appreciation, and while the thought of having a bullet train with a 90 minute commute to Washington is mouth watering, it’s also semi-decidedly off the menu. The cost of creating an entirely new train system, including repairing the tracks that Richmond has, would cost well over 4 billion dollars. That type of moolah is rarely seen these days, well, for things that don’t have much consequence for the rest of the Country. Maybe our new Governor will have some affection for strategically placed pork and get it done.
I think I might enjoy going off on my own to travel and just “figure things out for myself”. On the one hand I would be terrified. If I told you that I was open to even the smallest changes, I would be lying. Being out of my comfort zone is difficult, I’m the first to admit this, and the first to try and address it.
But traveling costs money. This trip alone will cost me $60 round trip. But the plumping of my savings account is encouraging now that I have two jobs. You’ll often find me scribbling down my accounts in my newly purchased treasury book ($12.00). Does this make me money obsessed? Who isn’t now-a-days? With unemployment looming, and my financial future in question, I’m not ashamed of breaking down my budgets, writing down expected profits, and planning accordingly. I think knowing how much money you earn, and how you spend it is more important when you’re young. Old habits die hard, they might as well be good ones.
I think that at every important age you can look back and review what you’ve done with your life. This happens to be pretty depressing, but only because I’m so young. What would be more depressing is if I only ever amounted to what I was at this age when I am older. I doubt this will happen. I have big dreams, and when I honestly think about it, I am completely convinced that I am going to succeed. I don’t know if this is foolish or not. Perhaps it is the dumbest thing in the world to have high hopes and standards for yourself. I’ve always been one to have high standards, and I tend to hold people to them. I think that was a major reason my last relationship fell apart. I’m trying to do better, but I really think that my whole life will be guided by these standards that I try to live by.
I feel like I’m growing up and learning how to take care of myself. This may lead to unintentionally hurting others in the process. No one has higher demands than my own mother (apparently standards are genetic), and while I have standards of my own, I am bound by hers first and foremost. I value our relationship, but sometimes I feel like I am a child. My acts of rebellion are often squashed before that can fully take effect, and almost always they are done in an attempt to prove my independence, and usually prove that I am, in fact, not smart enough to handle everything and anything.
Train watching is something I like to do while riding the rails. I tend to pick out people my age to watch.
I’ll describe the passenger to my right.
He was the second person I saw when I arrived at Main St. Station, and the one I focused my subtle attention to. A young man, around my age I would guess, standing at around my height was sitting in the wooden benches when I threw my stuff down. Slightly heavy, his hands were resting on his stomach while he peered past his glasses down at the book in his hands. He is mousy with curly brown hair, and instantly reminded me of a boy I used to go to school with. Constantly teased, he was the butt of every joke, but this boy sitting in front of me seemed fine with the wear, at first. His face was serious, mouth down-turned and stern, and slightly pursed. His attire was typical, camouflage shorts, nearly matching the rumpled duffle bag at his feet, and a dark shirt. He glanced up at me, our gazes met, and he looked down again. In a situation like this I rarely get intimidated. I continued to study him, and he either didn’t noticed, or didn’t care to point it out. It wasn’t until his raised his arm to adjust his glasses that my thoughts of my school friend were confirmed. Several neatly aligned scars were etched into his inner forearm. He’s dealt with feelings everyone feels, but responds to differently.
Back in grade school I would have been embarrassed and stunned. While stunned, I’m not embarrassed for him. Nor do I think of him any less, but I feel sympathy. Though I have felt the range of human emotion, I never once felt compelled to deal with it in that way. I’m grateful, but I don’t see this as anything other than my own controlled intentions. I don’t like to be out of control, and I guess that neither does this boy.
Fast forward to us sitting across from each other on this train, and he received a phone call. The first I heard him speak! I am disappointed by what I hear. Not only is he loud, but he ungraciously uses profanities, and I’m left wondering “Can looks really be this deceiving?”
This train just passed over part of the Potomac, I assume, and the water was so still it looked like glass. I’ve never seen that before.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Way I See It #582
A lot of things have been going on, and such, next week will probably be the most exhausting/busiest week of my life.
I leave on Saturday for Northern VA to take care of some doctors appointments, and catching up with mis hermanas y mi madre. Then its back to Richmond for Tuesday and Wednesday, and then I leave early Thursday morning for a work trip to Wise, VA.
Let me repeat this, WISE VA. That's a 7 hour drive with Allen Jones, a Photographer at VCU Creative Services. For the trip I am in charge of rounding up people to be shot, putting up and striking backdrops, and perhaps more importantly, protecting Allen's (well, VCU's) Hasselblad H3D.
When I was told about this job, one of the "perks" was being able to work within a foot of this camera. If you do a little google search of this camera, and even the Hasselblad brand, you'll see why. A large part of my job next weekend will be to protect this camera when it isn't in the steady/fatherly hands of Allen Jones.
more to come later!
I leave on Saturday for Northern VA to take care of some doctors appointments, and catching up with mis hermanas y mi madre. Then its back to Richmond for Tuesday and Wednesday, and then I leave early Thursday morning for a work trip to Wise, VA.
Let me repeat this, WISE VA. That's a 7 hour drive with Allen Jones, a Photographer at VCU Creative Services. For the trip I am in charge of rounding up people to be shot, putting up and striking backdrops, and perhaps more importantly, protecting Allen's (well, VCU's) Hasselblad H3D.
When I was told about this job, one of the "perks" was being able to work within a foot of this camera. If you do a little google search of this camera, and even the Hasselblad brand, you'll see why. A large part of my job next weekend will be to protect this camera when it isn't in the steady/fatherly hands of Allen Jones.
more to come later!
Friday, July 10, 2009
The Way I See It # 581: Hollering, and Other Curiosities.
Have you ever had the displeasure (or pleasure, if that's how you roll) of being "Hollered at"? It's only happened to me a couple of times walking down broad, and for the most part it's rude, annoying, and all together unpleasant. But something curious happened the other day as I was riding my bike. I passed a girl walking on the sidewalk, wearing a really nice outfit, and I was about to yell "YOU LOOK NICE!" when I realized that it would probably be rude. Was I just about to "Holler" at this girl? I mean, no, in my opinion, but I'm sure that if I had yelled at her, she would have thought it was both weird, and awkward. Or maybe she would have liked it? It might have been a great ego boost to have some random girl on a bike compliment your outfit.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The Way I See It # 580
Image via Wikipedia
And then it hit her. It hit her the same way a pop-quiz hits a fourth grader, the same way it hits someone who has forgotten plans with a friend: Lisa forgot to pay rent.
Springing up from her cozy place in bed, Lisa sprinted into her kitchen, threw open her bag, tearing it apart to find her checkbook. Fruitless in her efforts, she tore her apartment apart. Finally finding the checkbook, she scribbled a check in the poorest script she has ever written, threw on some clothes, and ran out the door.
Lesson: Keep tabs on your bank account, and always remember the first of the month.
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Friday, July 3, 2009
The Way I See It # 579
11 o' Clock is usually the prime hour for a little snuggle time with Ben and Jerry (Of the "Half Baked" variety). However, I've resisted the very (very) strong urge to hop over to the 7-11 this evening, and am opting for cold water instead. I've realized that a lot of my snack attacks are usually the result of being dehydrated. I mistake my lack of thirst-quenching potables for actual hunger, and thuse the reason I always feel like I over-eat. So water it is, and water it will be for the rest of the summer, especially when working on my feet for 8 hours or so every day. As for working more now than I ever have, I'm enjoying the time spent being busy.
I have come to realize that I've gotten to like a lot of the people I work with at Barnes and Noble, and when I eventually leave, I'll be sad to go, but I can always visit. As with VCU Creative Services, I may be working in a decrepit basement, eerily similar to what I expect any of the SAW Movies looks like, but at least I'm contributing something to the company I work for. Pushing buttons and handling cash for a major corporation can't compare to the smaller, more personal touch of an Advertising Agency that needs my help in redesigning their filing system. Dirt, roaches, and the promise of mice in the winter can't dampen the hopes I have for this job. I was calculating my hours this week and I think I'm definitely going to be pleased with my next paycheck.
Long hours are finally paying off, or are expected to pay off, however the only casualties of this work effort happen to be my feet. Standing, even with a support pad at Barnes and Noble, is a tough one, unless I want to wear athletic shoes to work. Lugging heavy boxes down flights of stairs and up and down off tables for cataloging isn't too peachy either, but I'm counting this as a positive increase in daily exercise.
A large part of my job also includes running deliveries. This poses a nice change of pace if I have been down in the basement for my entire shift, but I'm thinking about eventually getting a Chrome bag (eventually being the key word, due to the price tag), to help out with the packages I carry sometimes on my bike. Zane got a Chrome bag about a month ago, and it has only impressed me. It holds a lot, it's lifetime guaranteed, and would definitely help out with carrying groceries/packages/books/etc.
alright, enough blogging, my eyes have the tell-tale burning of bedtime.
I have come to realize that I've gotten to like a lot of the people I work with at Barnes and Noble, and when I eventually leave, I'll be sad to go, but I can always visit. As with VCU Creative Services, I may be working in a decrepit basement, eerily similar to what I expect any of the SAW Movies looks like, but at least I'm contributing something to the company I work for. Pushing buttons and handling cash for a major corporation can't compare to the smaller, more personal touch of an Advertising Agency that needs my help in redesigning their filing system. Dirt, roaches, and the promise of mice in the winter can't dampen the hopes I have for this job. I was calculating my hours this week and I think I'm definitely going to be pleased with my next paycheck.
Long hours are finally paying off, or are expected to pay off, however the only casualties of this work effort happen to be my feet. Standing, even with a support pad at Barnes and Noble, is a tough one, unless I want to wear athletic shoes to work. Lugging heavy boxes down flights of stairs and up and down off tables for cataloging isn't too peachy either, but I'm counting this as a positive increase in daily exercise.A large part of my job also includes running deliveries. This poses a nice change of pace if I have been down in the basement for my entire shift, but I'm thinking about eventually getting a Chrome bag (eventually being the key word, due to the price tag), to help out with the packages I carry sometimes on my bike. Zane got a Chrome bag about a month ago, and it has only impressed me. It holds a lot, it's lifetime guaranteed, and would definitely help out with carrying groceries/packages/books/etc.
alright, enough blogging, my eyes have the tell-tale burning of bedtime.
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