Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Oh heyyy

I moved. For lots of reasons. I've taken my favorites from here and put them on new. Thanks, Blogger. It's been real.

Peep this:

Monday, June 21, 2010

Sweet Relief

There is nothing like an author coming through for his readers. I just read Ender in Exile last night. And stayed up until 2 AM to finish it. When an author writes a series for so long, and that series takes so many twists and turns through characters, planets, and the space-time continuum, I get nervous as a reader. What if he decides this is the book that Ender reveals a secret, malicious side? What if he introduces a new character that doesn't make sense and ruins my images of the people I've spent ten years getting to know through these books? Do I sound like a crazy person yet?

I started reading Ender's Game in my tenth grade English class. Sadly, due to getting the flu that November as well as my teacher's bitterness that we were reading this instead of The Old Man and the Sea, I never got to do my favorite thing: discuss it in an English class setting. But I read and reread that book. It was one of the first sci fi books that got my complete attention. Orson Scott Card does an amazing job of capturing the emotional roller coaster of human emotion in these children who face an impossible task. I don't think there's one book I haven't cried over.

So Ender in Exile is supposedly the end of these books. It came out in 2008. So I waited to read it. I was terrified that I'd be disappointed. That I'd not be interested. But I was so wrong. It actually takes place in between the last two chapters of Ender's Game, but it still basically holds the end of the whole plot. It's difficult to explain and involves light years so I won't bore you. But it was like FINALLY getting all of the answers I needed from the book I read at 14 years old. And realizing how important it was to know all of the other things I knew before knowing Ender as an adult.

It's been ages since I stayed up on a school night to finish a book. I couldn't stop. Because I knew at the end, I'd have this feeling that would make me feel content. It's the same feeling I get whenever I read an Ender book. Even if it ends in turmoil, you still feel reassured that there is some good left in people, that you can fix the wrong in the world, and that even the super geniuses among us love and lose and cry and laugh. It's official. I DO sound like a crazy person. But you should pick up Ender's Game. And then call me when you're finished.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Disappointment in the choices of others begot this:

Family stuff is prompting me to write that post about the women in my family to balance the one about some of the men. My friends usually meet my family (en masse, no one ever meets one or two people) and come away saying something like, “Now I know why you are the way you are.” Those might be my favorite words ever, because goodness, my family is full of cool people, and if I’m like them, I’m a happy girl.

My two grandmothers are both survivors. Being one of the older grandchildren, and the only girl for a really long time, means that I’ve probably gleaned more information than the other kids. I know that leaving Cuba wasn’t something they were particularly excited about. I know that sometimes marriage stifled ambitions for them. I know that even though they’re a little batty now, they still aren’t to be trifled with…because they survived hell to get where they are. But before they survived revolution, raising children in a strange place, sickness, and poverty, they survived being women in a time and culture where they might as well have been possessions. One of them had a horrendous childhood, horrendous like the stuff movies are made of, horrendous in ways that have me tearing up even now as I write this…and somehow she finds happiness in life. One of them thought the idea of allowing her gender to control her actions was monumentally stupid, so she didn’t conform. She did other things. Went to school, joined her brothers in a revolution, eventually found a husband (at the then ridiculous age of 27 or 28). She did things the way she wanted to do them. Their lives were hard, probably with more lows than highs, and yet, they are sources of inspiration for me. Paying off my credit cards sucks, but it sucks less than searching mountains for wounded soldiers. Being unemployed was probably, to date, the lowest low I’ve ever had, and yet, I’ve never had any kind of debilitating illness while raising three kids, so how can I dwell on a crappy 8 months?

On the surface, I’m not much like my mother. She’s better at tact, controlling her emotions, and finding the positive in a situation. But our similarities lie deeper. We’re loving, compassionate, generous, and hard workers. Because of those similarities, we can have impressive fights. Goodness knows we have had impressive fights. Her one desire in life was to have children. She knew she was cut out to be a mom. Usually this is the kind of life goal that has me rolling my eyes, but sometimes someone just knows what they’re perfectly cut out for, and that’s her. If I could be a fraction of the mother she is, I would be a happy woman. There are other things to admire. She’s made a fantastic name for herself in her industry, which she originally fell into while looking for a job that would allow her to be home when we got home from school. She’s a good wife, friend, and person. But I think one of the reasons I’m so careful about wanting kids is because I’ve seen what raising them well looks like, and I don’t want to do it any other way.

My aunts are all different and I’ve gotten different things from each of them. My love of learning, my fashion sense, my superior shopping skills, my bullshit radar, the list goes long. I have a lot of aunts. They’ve all added a little something to this pot of soup, which is probably why I’m so spicy sometimes, oops.

All this to say that generations of people have sacrificed, suffered, and pushed just so I could do better. So that my brothers and cousins could do better. And when I see some of us making terrible life choices, I can hardly stomach it. Because choosing poorly after so many people chose correctly is pure disrespect. If you can’t choose correctly for yourself, then choose for your parents or grandparents. Or for your own kids. If you can’t do that, I’m not even sure I want to know you.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

What happens when you're stuck in the house for seven days and then try to escape it

In an unfortunate but true situation, I contemplated being rude to children last night. But to explain why I came very close to yelling at two little boys, we must return to Friday evening.

After receiving some crappy news at work that I’m not going to go into expect to say, “Grrrrr,” I stayed late, ran to dinner with Jenny, ran home, threw clothes in a suitcase for Jersey, then ran to Beth’s house where I was spending the night to be closer to Union Station. Because my train was leaving at 5:30 AM on Saturday. But first I went to The Red and The Black on H Street. Fun bar. I went because Beth was singing with a friend’s band and I am a good friend. So upon arriving home around 12:30 and falling asleep around 1:15, I got very little sleep on Friday night. I slept in 20 minute increments for the whole train ride to Jersey. And when I arrived I plunged immediately into doing stuff. Breakfast with cousins, shopping for rehearsal dinner dress (Victory! I’ll be looking fly.), lunch with aunt and cousins, more shopping, dinner and drinks at cousins’ house until late, going to bed at 1 AM. I basically was almost up for 24 hours. You know what I realized? I’m not 21 years old anymore and this is not college. This is real life and I need sleep. I got precisely eight hours before I had to get up and do other stuff. Plus there are puppies at my aunt’s house and they don’t like it when you sleep a lot. Cousins come over, we watch movie, order food, hang out until late, color my hair, and sleep once again. And now Monday rolls around and there is more shopping, more hanging with cousins, and NOT A LOT OF SLEEPING. And so, as sad as I was to leave everyone last night at 9:00 PM, I was damn happy to get on a train and sleep. Which isn’t out of the realm of reasonable expectations when your train is at 9:40 and it’s a Monday night, right?

So these boys. They must have been 6 and 7. And there was a baby. I don’t usually get mad at babies because they’re babies. They’re not trying to be jerks; they just do what they do. But THE BOYS. Totally within age to know appropriate sound level. And I didn’t understand why their mother was so blasé about the whole thing. Maybe once every 30 minutes she’d tell them to be quiet in the least quiet voice imaginable. And I didn’t get it. Because they were yelling. And I was trying to SLEEP. And they kept saying STUPID THINGS. Example, and I swear this is a direct quote, “I AM MEGATRON!” Look kid, you are NOT Megatron. And if you were, Amtrak would probably have issues letting you on their train, so shut up. One of them also had a really bad cough. The kind of cough that would make my mother wince and bundle me up in all kinds of clothing because you can’t let a kid with the beginnings of croup (yes, I know the difference between kinds of coughs, this is what happens when you’re a sick kid) be all cold! And this kid is running around the frigid train (why not heat, Amtrak?) in a t-shirt. So I didn’t have much faith in this woman’s parenting skills in general but then it happened. They finally got off the train in Wilmington and the mother stands up and I see she has ear buds in her ears. Let me repeat that in the tone in which I meant it. BITCH WAS LISTENING TO HER IPOD WHILE HER CHILDREN TERRORIZED THE TRAIN. AND IT WAS LOUD. I’d heard it before but I assumed it was another passenger trying to drown out those damn kids and I couldn’t blame them one little bit. BUT IT WAS THE MOTHER. No wonder she wasn’t enforcing volume control. SHE WAS JAMMING. The level of my fury was high enough that I caught her eye in order to say something to her, but then I remembered that I didn’t know enough about her life to give her the verbal dress down she deserved and chose instead to just be thankful these children were off the damn train.

Also, would you like to see cab drivers be SUPER NICE? Just catch a cab from Union Station at 1 AM. They are all about letting you share rides, giving you fair rates, and just being nice in general. It was lovely.

In other news, I am sorry for the lack of posting in my life lately. On Day Three of Snow of Doom, my computer screen died and I exist in a sad state these days. How did the Snow of Doom go you ask? LET ME TELL YOU.

I had my groceries delivered the Friday morning and it was maybe the best decision I’d made ever. I didn’t have to deal with the lines at the grocery store that friends compared to bread lines in Communist Russia. I also avoided the cold. And I cooked. A lot. Because when you’re inside in a snowstorm, there’s something about making homemade, warm food that is super appealing.

On Sunday, Allie decided it was time to play in the snow. On Thursday we’d gone to Target, where she procured a giant sea turtle pool float complete with handles. She promptly named him Slippy the Sea Turtle. He would be our sled. On Sunday morning, Allie announces that she’s sure the only way we’re going out there is if we are drunk. So at 10 AM she looks at me and tells me I need to catch up and start drinking. I could only drink a beer and a half since, as I stated earlier in this post, I am no longer 21 and I didn’t even have a morning football game to inspire the drinking. Allie did not allow this to stop her dreams and so she instructed me to take shots of bourbon. Which I did. And chased them with beer. Now that we’re good and wasted around 11:30, we walk down to our sedate lobby, with the five foot long sea turtle in tow, and charge out into the snow.

We picked a site where you didn’t really know we were there until you happened upon us. This made for awesome reactions when people saw two girls trying to sled down a not-steep-enough hill on a giant turtle. Somewhere along the line, Slippy suffered an injury and began to deflate. This resulted in Allie sitting forlornly on the ground, trying to blow Slippy back up, while yelling, “I hate you, Slippy!” There might be video and photographic proof of all of this, but we made a pact not to ever confirm, deny, or share any proof that these things happened.

I don’t really know what inspired this next part, but I turned around and saw an undisturbed snow bank that was probably two feet deep. I told Allie that if she waded to the middle of it, maybe Slippy would go. Now, this snow bank had no incline and was really just a bunch of snow. Nonetheless, Allie wades to the middle and kind of jumps onto Slippy into the snow. And nothing happened. Except a small snow-plosion. And then Allie saying that she couldn’t get up. Now I’m laughing and can’t stop and I’m telling her to roll over. When she finally got out we decided this adventure was probably over BUT THEN we happened upon a man we’d seen earlier with a camera. So clearly we approached him and asked if he wanted a picture of Slippy. I don’t know what was funnier, the fear in his eyes or the tone of his voice when he asked what a Slippy was. Sir, clearly we are referring to the giant, deflated turtle we are carrying.

And then we walked back through our apartment building with a deflated Slippy and deflated spirits. And Allie kept kicking Slippy and saying, “I hate you.”

That was the best part of the snowstorm I think. We also went boozing on Tuesday night just because we could, but nothing crazy happened. Mostly, I’m impressed that we were in the house for seven days and didn’t kill each other. Go us!

That’s all for now.

Except that I got home last night around 1:15 and didn’t fall asleep until 2:00 or so. So if I’m punchier than usual, don’t ask why. Now you know.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Happy New Year!

Wow. I was doing SO WELL with the posting and then Christmas came and ate my life. And then New Year’s Eve involved me crying in a bathtub. It’s still unclear while we (yes, we, I had company) chose the bathtub, but I don’t make excuses for my ridiculous behavior. I just own it. Huzzah!

So in honor of the first post of 2010, I’ll say that this year hasn’t sucked so far. Yay! Actually, if I look at where I was a year ago and where I am today, life has improved significantly.

Last year on January 28, 2009 (courtesy of the fact that gmail never makes me delete anything! Love you gmail!):

Meghan turned 25. Today she is 26. Happy Birthday Meghan!

I was complaining about the end of my awful job.

I admitted to being “Pathetic Sarah” for the week. (I don’t really know what this means. Probably that I’m just a drama queen. Like you didn’t already know that!)

I was two days away from being unemployed.

I had just broken up with the guy and it would be months before I admitted it bothered me (tip: ignoring your emotions isn’t healthy, not like I don’t ignore them now, but at least I recognize that it’s not healthy. Yay personal growth!)

I was a generally unhappy person.

This year on January 28, 2010 (courtesy of my ability to look around me):

I have a job that I love and work with people I like a lot

I’ve continued to meet new, awesome people in this cool city. Some of the people I knew last year I’ve phased out, others have become really close friends, and the new people get better every day.

I don’t have stress dreams about work anymore! Yay! Now when I have dreams about work, they involve silly things that happen during the day. Much better quality of life.

OK. That’s enough of the positivity (MS Word just told me that’s not a word, I don’t care enough to change it). I know that’s not why you guys come here. You guys come here for my sarcasm. And now you come here to read things I think are hilarious:

The funniest thing I've read in a LONG time.

That link above, it’s for a blog I read and list on my blogroll. I wish I could be as funny as she is. But that’s my cross to bear, not yours. Even though the entry is long, it is WELL WORTH reading. Even thinking about it gets me giggling again.

Let’s see. What else?

- iPad is officially the silliest thing I’ve seen. It’s like a giant iPod Touch. I mean, it’s COOL. But I don’t feel like it’s going to replace laptops. Maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m out of touch. I also don’t get netbooks and they’re sweeping the nation.
- I got an invitation to a baby shower for a friend of mine. I’m 23 years old. I feel like I’m too young for this to happen to me. And it’s not even an oops baby. She is married. Has been for several years. And now they’re having a baby. This is weird.
- There comes a point every winter where I announce that I’m done with the season. That happened yesterday. At about 5:30 PM. And I wished for Tampa. So there’s that.
- I didn’t watch the State of the Union. Let’s be honest, not even the hilarious drinking game circling the world could get me to watch that. You know people are going to yell at each other, you know people are going to shake their heads, and frankly, for that kind of behavior, I’d much rather watch a game. Luckily, FSU was playing Duke! Really though, I stopped watched the SotU years ago. I just read the speech in the following days. Some of my more liberal-minded friends were getting on me saying things like, “I used to watch W, you should watch Obama!” Sorry kids, it doesn’t count when you only used to watch him to see how you could mock him next, besides, I didn’t even watch W. I told you, the SotU isn’t a good television thing. I think mostly it bothers people that I don’t love Obama and they usually ignore it until something like this comes up where deliberate action shows my dislike for him. Oh well!
- I was talking to a friend recently about how he knows when he “really likes” a girl and isn’t just passing the time and it made me think, “How do I really know when I like a guy?” Answer: I don’t! Isn’t that crazy? I haven’t “really liked” anyone in such a long time that I think the signs I used to watch for aren’t relevant anymore because it’s been that long. Isn’t that sad?
- After a lifetime of not really caring (because you can only care about so much at one time), I think I’ve become anti-strip club. I mean, I don’t think it makes you a bad person to go to strip clubs, I’ve been before. But if you’re in a relationship, you have no business being there. Either of you. At least not if you’re with me. I think I really don’t like the double standard. Like, if a guy goes to a strip club, his girlfriend shouldn’t care because lap dances don’t mean anything. But if a girl goes to a club and dances with a guy while fully clothed, it’s not ok. There’s just a disconnect there that recent events brought to light and have impacted me. I’m more surprised than anyone.
- Tim Tebow has annoyed me for some time, but seriously, he’s begun to PISS ME OFF. It has nothing to do with his free speech rights. You’re right. He can sit on tv and talk about whatever he wants. That’s more than within his right to free speech. But it’s the message he’s sending. Sadly, he’s influential, and young boys will watch and think, “Well, if Tebow says so, then it’s probably true.” And that’s JUST what we need, another generation of boys thinking they can tell a woman what to do with her body. So kudos Focus on the Family and Tim Tebow. Way to perpetuate this ridiculous fight my gender has to have with the government so that I can decide what happens in my uterus. SUPER HAPPY about that. And now Sarah Palin is chiming in. Ugh. We all know HOW MUCH I LOVE HER! Actually, you don’t. That’s one of the serious posts I keep putting off but basically it will be titled, “Sarah Palin: Why I consider setting up my own non-crazy country from time to time.”

That’s all.