The Importance of Things.

Let me explain you a thing.

 The thing is that everyone has a thing.

So, here I was watching the new Star Trek movie

(Let's just admit two very good reasons to see the movie, right here)

We walk into the theater, and the first three rows are three rows full of middle-aging persons sitting there giddy with anticipation. They were so excited, they had matching t-shirts! I mean, this is like the Harry Potter of their generation. They gasped louder, laughed harder, and watched more intently then anyone. This was their childhood, this is what they grew up with. I laughed then, but now I admire their passion.


Things bring people together. You love something so much, you find someone that shares that same love with you, and you can't help but love it together. If you have  a thing that you feel so strongly about, so passionate about, that thing becomes a  part of you. And if someone has that thing as a part of them too, then really, you together are the same.
At least part of you. And that's something beautiful.

I'm not talking just about movies either. An author, a band, a hobby, a sport, these are things. This is what makes up people, what they do, what they think about, who they are. Things are an escape, a checkout from world, even if just temporarily.
They allow us to do what we want, think how we want, be who we want. Things help us express ourselves, to feel everything from purely ecstatic, to heart-wrenchingly torn, all at the same time, and to love it. To find your own beauty in the world.

In summary, to my high school art teacher who banned the word 'thing' from the classroom: Things are important. I love things. And my thing is things.

"I fall in love with people's passions. The way their eyes light up when they talk about the thing they love and the way they fill with light."

Kids are disgusting

I mean, let’s be real.
They are a giant ball of tantrums..

And tears.

And overall sass








These unavoidable facets of life are even more evident within the incredibly glamorous job of cleaning tables at a restaurant. On kid's night.

Let me explain.

This means that every single family of seven children under the age of ten in the surrounding 500 mile radius and their dog decide to come on over for a 99 cent meal. And it's like a giant party.  Where they dump half of their meal on the ground, pick it up, and then continue to eat it, because they are disgusting. 

In other news, my sister had a baby, and her kids are the cutest in every way, and cannot possibly do anything that is short of angelic.

My Mom Came Home!

My mom has been gone for the past three weeks. And while you would think that I would be super happy about being alone all the time...

...it does get kind of old eating cereal and spaghetti for every meal.

But it isn't all bad. My dad and I are best buds, so we do really awesome things together

Like go to Village Inn at 11:00 at night for Pi day

By really awesome things, I mean we Netflix documentaries about space. And before you go label me as a nerd, just wait.

  Actually, go right ahead.

I mean, we get to watch videos with pictures like this:

Anyways,  my mom is home now, so we can go back to a clean house and food that photosynthesizes. But, we did survive, and I think that's a reason to feel accomplished.

Things Above My Pay Grade

Let me start out by saying that I am generally a hard worker.

       (though my parents may disagree...)

But at my actual job, I actually work. Partly because I'm being paid, and partly because I view it as a giant group project, and as we all know, the moral of group projects is that you have to do all the work yourself.

So I volunteer to clean, to do the jobs nobody likes, to do whatever,  because it’s in my nature. Props to my upbringing.

But I do not get paid enough for what I just experienced.

I check out groceries for a living. Not as in "Your groceries have beautiful eyes" but in a, "That'll be $18.47 please," sort of way. Prestigious, I know.

So, I'm checking out this lady's groceries.

No, not in that way. 

And the guy behind her starts talking to me. And since I had no idea what he said I just smiled and hoped it wasn't a question, to which he laughs to his son, "Girl didn't hear me, she just smile and nod!" (To which I inwardly cringed, knowing my plan had been found out..) 

Anyway.

When it was finally his turn, he looks at me and says something along the lines of "If my stuff is still alive, can I get a discount?" 

I could tell he was trying to be funny, but I was not understanding the question. How often does one find themselves having to respond to this question? 

So, he puts a donut box on the conveyor belt. Except it didn't have donuts. It had a lobster. A live lobster. That was alive.Living. 

Now, I am not squeamish person. I'll kill spiders for my 6'4'' brother. I clean out the back of the refrigerator on a semi-annual regular basis. I even used to have a pet rat. 

But there are some things that require mental preparation, this being one of them.  

Preparation which I did not have.

My reaction is not something I am  particularly proud of, but it did provide great amounts of humor to all of those in the surrounding area. Glad to be of service.

A Time I Lost My Mother

One day,  as I was sitting and accomplishing really productive things on the internet, my mother asked if I wanted to go to the store. I felt rather indifferent until she said, “I’m in a buying mood, so if you want something, you better come along.”

This, of course,  is a whole other story

So, here I was, buying groceries at my local grocer, (which I happen to work at and  apparently never leave) with my mom.

Whilst perusing the aisles, I came across the cutest little frying skillet. Because I’m going to college soon, and am trying to be practical in everything I do (and I’m real easily entertained…) I had to get my mom’s attention, to show her how cool it was.

 

“Mom, mom! Look how cute this frying pa-

You are not my mom!”

It was not my mom.

This lady looks at me.

 

All the while my mom

 is watching like,

And then of course I start blabbering to this lady trying to explain myself, when really I was just digging myself farther and farther into a hole.

Point? I’m a giant five year old.

How A Week Can Be Made

This is how my week has been

Seriously. All week, I've been a real grump.

Sorry 'bout that.

  

But how do we make this all better? Let me tell you, it involves this..

   And now we go into story time...

Here I was, at work.Being a helpful smile.

 

All day, erry day.

As I worked, I notice someone getting a real fluffy throw blanket. Reeeall fluffy. I thought, "Huh, that's pretty cool." And then I went on break, and I passed a whole cartful of them, and one was not only yellow, BUT ONLY FIVE DOLLARS!! Now I thought, "I need this in my life more than I have ever needed anything in my life." And I still had three hours of my shift to go. 

It was killing me. I was dying. I watched as more and more of these blankets were being bought. I saw in my mind, the cart supplies diminishing by the second.

Then those glorious words were said. "You can go home now." I LEAPT from my station and ran/skipped   walked very calmly to the cart. There were three left. 

It was sitting there, in all its perfect glory, beckoning for me.

I have no regrets.

An Invocation.

In the words of a lovely someone:

"This is an invocation for anyone who hasn’t begun...
Who’s stuck in a terrible place between zero and one.
Let me realize that my past failures at follow-through are NO indication of performance.
They’re just healthy little fires that’ll warm up my backside.
If my WLDI (Whatever- Let’s Do It) is strong let me keep him in a velvet box until I really, really need him.
If my WLDI is weak let me feed him oranges and not let him gorge himself in ego and arrogance.
May I not hit up my facebook like it’s a crack pipe
Keep the browser closed.
If I catch myself wearing a to-to (too fat-too late-{too young}) let me shake it off like a donkey would shake off something it doesn’t like.

And when I get that feeling in my stomach — you know the feeling when all of the sudden you get a ball of energy and it shoots down into your legs and up into your arms and tells you to get up and stand up and go to the refrigerator and get a cheese sandwich — that’s my cheese monster talking. And my cheese monster will never be satisfied by cheddar, only the cheese of accomplishment.
Let me think about the people who I care about the most, and how when they fail or disappoint me I still love them, I still give them chances, and I still see the best of them. Let me extend that generosity to myself.
Let me find and use metaphors to help me understand the world around me and give me the strength to get rid of them when its apparent they no longer work.
Let me thank the parts of me that I don’t understand or are outside of my rational control like my creativity and my courage.
Let me remember that my courage is a wild dog and it won’t just come when I call it, I have to chase it down and hold on as tight as I can.
Let me not be so vain to think that I am the sole author of my victories and a victim of my defeats.
Let me remember that the unintended meaning that people project on to what I do is neither my fault or something I can take credit for.
Perfection might look good in his shiny shoes but he’s a little bit of an jerk and no one invites him to their pool parties.
Let me remember that the impact of criticism is often not the intent of the critic, but when the intent is evil,

that’s what the block button’s for.

And when I eat my critique, let me be able to separate the good advice from the bitter herbs.
There are few people who won't be disarmed by a genuine smile.

Let me not think of my work only as a stepping stone to something else, and if it is, let me become fascinated by the shape of the stone.
Let me take the idea that has gotten me this far and put it to bed. What I am about to do will not be that. But it will be something.
There is no need to sharpen my pencils anymore. My pencils are sharp enough. Even the dull ones will make a mark.
Warts and all.
Let’s start this stuff up.
And goodness, let me enjoy this. 

Life isn’t just a sequence of waiting for things to be done."