Career Vampires

Chef’s quote tonight over some German sausage we were serving:  “That German crap is hideous.  It looks like a hog’s dick that’s had one too many blow jobs by a vampire.”

Last night, I wrote perhaps the worst paper of my entire life.  Sadly, it took me all night long to do it.  And then, when I finally went to bed, I couldn’t fall asleep until like 7 in the morning, so I only got like 4 hours of sleep.  Not good.

I am going to take the bus to Atlanta the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.  That’s really not too unpleasant a thought…I happen to like tour buses, even though I haven’t been on one since the 8th grade trip to D.C.  Guess it’ll be like taking a plane or a train–I really like trains.  Maybe I’ll meet some sort of interesting person on this 8-hour trip…or maybe I’ll just have 8 hours to read and listen to whatever music I want…and sleep.

So my mom tells me today that she called the Ponte Vedra office to ask Cecilia about a receipt in the computer system, dating sometime in October, for a non-existent item, and signed by “VJ2”.  Everyone at the company, when entering things into said computer system, uses his or her initials.  I always used mine: “VJ”.

When my mom asked Cecilia what was up with the receipt, she actually blamed it on me.  I mean, it was one thing for her to be blaming me for pointless crap that I didn’t do while I worked there…but now!?  So my mom said, “Uhh…Cecilia…this receipt was signed in October.  Ginny hasn’t worked there since August.  Cecilia said, “No, it was Ginny.”

My mom knew perfectly well it wasn’t me; she knows I always signed things as “VJ”.  But who’s getting the blame for it when the big boss finds out?  I am.  Me.  Even though I haven’t worked there in months.  Apparently there’s someone named Vicki at the Ponte Vedra office now, a part-timer whose last name is unknown at this time…but if it’s a ‘J’, it’s almost guaranteed that it was her…but if it wasn’t her…that means Cecilia is still trying to set me up!  It would mean she had gone into the system and created “VJ2” as another user with the express purpose of making it look like I was still doing pointless things to cause the company problems.  Is she insane!?

Bottom line:  That place sucks hog dick like a vampire.

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Out There

When I was younger—in fact, not all that much younger, pretty recently, really—I thought that parents just naturally had all the answers.  I thought that people grew up, got married, and were suddenly endowed with the power to solve any problem that might arise.  But sometime in the past couple of years, when I became aware that I thought this, I looked at it and realized it made no sense at all.  Tonight, I was listening to my parents scold Brother for his bad report card, and I was remembering this strange mindset I used to have (which, admittedly, probably a lot of other kids had, too)…and I really saw that my parents are just regular people like me who grew up and are married and are still the same people they were before they met, but older and more mature. They don’t know how to solve every single problem, but here they’re faced with one. A parent problem. The typical kid-brings-home-bad-report-card sort of problem. And I listened to their lecture, and it was so much like so many lectures I received when I was the kid with the bad report card.  And then I thought how much I really respect my parents, because after going through all the kid stuff with two of us already, they’re doing this for the third time.  Even though they don’t have all the answers, they are now experts on how to be parents.  They’ve done it before.  Because there are no definite examples of every way to be the perfect parent, all that parents can claim is experience, and mine have that.  So they’ve reached that elite group of expert parents.  I don’t know…it was just this abstract thing that lasted for only a second or so…in fact, I had to memorize what I wanted to say about it in the walk from the chair to the computer, because I knew I’d forget by the time I got over here.  It’s kind of like when you have those weird dreams in Stage 1 sleep, so it’s almost like you weren’t asleep at all, but of course you were, because who thinks things like that while they’re awake?  And then when you do wake up in a matter of seconds, you’ve forgotten whatever it was that was going through your head, except that it was out there.  I can no longer feel whatever it was I felt while listening to my parents talk, but I do know that it was “out there”.

So I still haven’t told Milo how much I love his eyes. I want to, but it’s so hard for some reason.  Tonight at work, this guy that I’m always saying is really hot (I think Tinny told me his name is Philippe…?) came through the line, so I sort of muttered, “Watch this,” and I looked at Philippe (I’ll just call him that, even if it’s not really his name, because that’s how I know him now) and I said, “You know, you have really nice eyes,” and he said, “What?” and I said, “I really like your eyes…just wanted to tell you that,” and he smiled (got a nice smile, too; he’s hot all over, but I had to mention the eyes to make a point) and said thanks, and I looked at Tinny and said, “Look how easy that was!  Now why can’t I just say that to Milo!?”

The words are the same, but the feeling is different.  That’s why.  The emotion behind it isn’t just, “You’re a handsome stranger that I’m going to compliment just to get a handsome smile,”…no, I suppose I want a little more than that from Milo.  Not that I expect anything—I certainly don’t—but even if I did get a handsome smile from him…it would be so much more than your typical, everyday handsome smile…it would be Milo’s handsome smile.

There I go with that abstract frame of mind again.  I did know what I was talking about there, when I was “in the moment” with it.

Earlier tonight, I was sitting on the couch, and he was sitting here at the computer, and I looked up at him dreamily like my friend told me to do, and he gave me this really sly smile which I knew meant something, but I had no idea what, and he held up a glass of what looked like watered-down green dish detergent which was actually Gatorade that he had stolen from Sister—marvelous.  And I almost said, “I love it when you look at me like that…” but fortunately I didn’t.  Because I never do.

Gave my Quidditch speech today in Defense Against the Dark Arts…it was a lot harder than I expected it to be.  I wasn’t nervous at all before I got up there—in fact, I was supposed to go third, but the girl who was going first wasn’t ready, so I swapped with her, so confident was I—but I screwed it up pretty badly.  I’m not exactly sure how.  I had my outline, it was very well planned out, all the things I had to say in exactly the way I needed to say them…and I pointed to my visual aid (my drawing of a Quidditch pitch on a piece of posterboard) while on the introduction page. I wasn’t supposed to point to that until the second page.  So I pointed to it, suddenly realized that what I was doing was no longer scripted, and I was just “out there”, and I was lost, so I started saying just whatever the hell came to mind.  I ended up describing my whole visual without even moving from the introduction page.  And then after that point, because I had already destroyed my entire order of business, I continued to say whatever the hell came to mind.  Fortunately, most of the things I was saying sounded similar to my outline, but…Merlin’s beard…there was one frightening moment when I did happen to glance down at my outline, and that was when I realized that I hadn’t been following it at all, because until then, I hadn’t even realized that I was just saying anything at all that came into my head.  It was weird, I tell you.

Oddly enough, everyone else who went today had similar experiences—it wasn’t just me.  It’s like all this practice stuff we did in class to prepare for the speeches was a waste of time.  That stuff was all easy.  No one was nervous or worried about those sorts of things.  But on the actual speeches, everyone’s been screwing up.  And now I am nervous.  I’m nervous about the next two speeches, because when I think how much crucial detail I left out of this speech (I neglected to explain what the Keeper does!), and I take into account that I probably knew the information for this speech better than I will know the information for either of my two next ones, considering the subject…yeah.  Those next two speeches have the potential to really suck.

The Eyes Have It

Wow…I think I’m feeling a bit…erm…high…from the Sharpies.  I just finished making my visual aid for my speech tomorrow.

Okay, so earlier, Milo was telling me how someone was explaining in drama that there are some people who have “hooded eyes”, and he pointed directly at Milo while saying this.  Milo was saying how this made him feel really insecure about his appearance (he’s already insecure enough as it is), so then everybody was making fun of him, but this one girl told him she liked his eyes, and that maybe they were set back sort of far, but that they are expressive.

…Almost everybody reading this thing knows how often I say how much I love his eyes.  I’ve described them in loving detail numerous times.  So I wanted to tell him–even though I am really not typically an eyes person (I go for nice smiles first)–that his eyes are my favorite feature on him, for the reasons which I have described so many times…but I couldn’t do it.  Why, I don’t know, but I had ample time, and I wasted it.

Maybe I could do it in the morning before school.

…Unfortunately, I know I probably won’t do it at all.  Another lost opportunity.  Sigh.  Strength!  I need strength and courage so I can go through with it!

You wouldn’t think something like this would be so difficult–and for me–but it is.

Oh, here’s another thing…so Milo asked Sister not to mention The Ex around him anymore, so today she tells him that The Ex and her friend, who is now one of Sister’s friends, were talking crap about Milo.  Why did she have to tell him that!?  Shit, I hate the fact that The Ex knows he lives here. I just hate that she actually has the satisfaction of knowing.  I liked when I knew she didn’t know and had to wonder where he was.

Dreams of Potters

Last night I dreamt I was Lily Potter.

We were at a party outdoors, and there were several really long tables with white tablecloths lined up next to each other, and lots of people.  I was standing beside James, holding baby Harry in my arms, and we were facing Dumbledore.  Everyone seemed really happy, and Dumbledore patted Harry’s head, smiled at us, and said, “He’s beautiful; and he has your eyes.”

I’m not interested in being a mother myself, but in the dream…it felt so real.  I can still feel Harry in my arms.  I can remember what it was like to be so happy there with James.  And while standing there, I was thinking that Dumbledore was going to end up making a wonderful grandfather-figure for Harry…not realizing, of course, that Harry would soon be parentless.

But then I was in a different situation and having what I suppose was a nervous breakdown.  I had suddenly had a bit of mother’s intuition or something, and I just knew that something was going to happen to James and me.  I was freaking out and crying, and I didn’t know where James was, so I ran to Sirius, and I was just sobbing and asking him to please watch out for Harry if something did happen to us.  He was really solemn about it, telling me to calm down, and that everyone was frightened–we were in the middle of a war–but that we were going to be okay…and I just knew he was wrong….

There was a lot more to it than that, but those are the only portions I can remember exactly.  It was so sad, and I wanted to cry when I woke up.  But now I feel this weirdly deep connection to Lily Potter, which is strange because, seeing as how she’s dead, she’s not a very major character in the series.

Just The Light

I watched Lost In Translation with Milo tonight; it’s very cute.  But it made me cry.  So I wiped my eyes very quickly, so he wouldn’t see.

While we were sitting there in that post-movie daze, when you’re still taking in the film, even though it’s over, a story I’d wanted to tell him occurred to me, so I started telling it, and then I turned to look at him, and I said, “…so, um…uh…uh….  I completely forgot what I was going to say….”

I had just noticed that his eyes were moist, too.  So I didn’t feel so stupid anymore; the movie had made him cry too.  It was the cutest thing!

…Or maybe it was just the light.

I think that’s really it for the night.  Back to the Quidditch speech!