I’m ok, you’re ok

Apparently posting about panic makes me extremely calm. My mind is weird that way. I have relaxed and actually gotten to enjoy the thought of moving and now I’m way too excited and I just want to go to sleep and wake up in August(because I have to get my residence permit and various other things). But until then I still have to enjoy the family visit next week. And trust me, enjoy is a big fat lie.

My family is…uh, let me find a nice way to put it. Mildly irritating. The particular bunch is really at the top of the annoyance scale. These people never got the idea of visiting in shifts or anything. Nope, if one comes, they must all come. This round there will be 4 of them. And I’m keeping my fingers crossed they don’t get any big ideas and bring the rest(the last time they visited they were 11). The reason for the visit…? To bring us the wedding invitation. What’s wrong with just mailing it? I seriously don’t need the honor of having to entertain the young couple for 3 days and I’d be more then satisfied with a mailed invitation(actually I’d be ecstatic with no invitation at all, but there is no way in hell I can escape the wedding). And of course I won’t be able to hide in my room because they’re family and we only see each other once or twice a year and wouldn’t it be a shame if they couldn’t talk to me because I was hidden under the bed? Oh, how would I live without the countless “But when are you getting married?” and “Are you at least dating someone, you pathetic single thing?” or the “But you don’t mind if we just use your computer, hogging it for hours and hours?” and “Do you really have to listen to the music you like? Don’t you have something else you really, really hate, but we don’t care because your music is rubbish and ours rules?”. As you can imagine, the comments in italic belong to me. I will need a lot of patience to get thru those days without killing anyone. And let’s not forget the fact that one of them is afraid of puppy. Yes, I know puppy is absolutely huge but he is the sweetest thing around(heck, compared to me he’s an angel) and would never bite anyone(don’t tell that to any thieves, ok? For any criminal reading this, puppy is a monster, a veritable killing machine). He doesn’t even go near people he doesn’t know(he doesn’t seem to grasp the idea that he’s got the upper hand there as he’s really, really big and has equally big teeth). But one of them is terrified of the dog that has never done anything to him and I will have to escort him very single damned time he goes outside, to prevent puppy from killing him. The other three love him and they’ll even try to play with him(which isn’t happening any time soon. They are not worthy enough to make it into puppy’s love circle. They do not know the super secret magic belly scratching techniques). No, I’m not obsessed with my gorgeous pooch, why would you think that(click here or just scroll down for his birthday video)? But back to complaining. I’m hoping I can distract them from asking personal questions with the “Look, I’m moving to England, want to talk about that instead of my love life?” maneuver and if that doesn’t work, imagining myself stabbing them with my fork, over and over again, until they bleed! I’m getting carried away here but these people deserve their own layer in hell. I’m sure I will have some interesting stories to tell after this visit. But no worries, I will be polite and let them listen to what they want(in the limit of what's on my computer, which isn't really that much to begin with) and I promise I'll try not to stab them with anything.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering about the title, I’ve taken a dare to give every post for a month the title of a Gilmore episode(no, I’m am not obsessed. Really I’m not. I am just…ok, I admit it, I’m obsessed).

Panicky

So, I haven’t bragged here yet about the fact that I got into uni. Yes, it’s official, I have 3 acceptance letters and I’m just waiting on one final reply and then comes the fun decision time. I’ve been trying to pick between Bradford and Nottingham Trent and I think I’ve settled on Bradford but I will need to make a few more lists before I am sure, because if I’ve learned anything from Rory, it’s the value of a good pro/con list. But in the meantime, while I am waiting for the last letter to arrive(because if I get in there I’m going there for sure) I have had more panic attacks then in the past 10 years combined, I think. It’s stupid, seriously. It all started with my mother panicking about me needing pajamas(I still don’t quite get that one because I don’t think I’ve worn pj’s in the past, oh, 6 years or so). And then my insanity started. I don’t know anything about England, I really don’t like Shakespeare, I need to do more research, I can’t even name a store, what if I need a haircut??? Breathe in a bag. And then: I am insane, I will become Unabomber chick, I won’t understand a word they’re saying, I can’t remember any of the chemistry I ever learned, I need to learn chemistry again, I will get lost twice a day, why the fuck am I doing this and what if I really, really need a haircut? I told you it’s irrational(why would I suddenly forget every last bit of English I know or my ability to orientate in just about any city? And while I’m on it, where did this sudden need for a haircut come from?). And that is just the really short version of what is going on.


I keep making lists in my head and they all come down to the same thing: what was I thinking? Why did I decide on this? I’m 20 and moving to a country where I’ve never been with a suitcase and a carry-on bag(or whatever the regulations for the amount of stuff you can take on an airplane with you are these days). Sounds like a fun adventure but not so much when for the past 4 days you’ve been having recurring nightmares where your bags get lost and you have to wear the same clothes for a month and then you finally get them back(the bags, not the clothes) and they’re filled with pots and pans and there’s a pair of shoes in one of the pots but no other clothing. No, no, no! I might not care that much about what I wear but I need more then one change of clothes. And after I’ve told this dream to a friend she decided it’s a good idea to mock me so the bit about me wearing the same clothes over and over again became a regular piece of conversation over the past days, to the point where she should thank the gods that she’s 300km away from me, otherwise I would have strangled her by now. And guess what I’ve discovered? The stress diet apparently works like a charm because in the past 4 days I lost 3 kg. That’s 6-7 pounds(I can’t be bothered to stop panicking long enough to do the actual math…6.6 pounds. Something about converting everything from one currency to the other kicked in there). And I am getting so close to starting to scrub the floors it’s frightening, partly because it’s 4.30 AM and partly because I cannot, for the life of me, remember the last time I scrubbed the floors. And I have just changed my socks because I felt very icky after that last thought. And I have no idea why I am panicking like this because it’s not like I’m shipping of to ‘Nam, I am just moving a short plane ride away and there are people who move from the East coast to the West Coast or the other way around(although, to be honest, they stay in the same country), and I have lived alone before and if you really think about it the plane ride is shorter then the bus trip from my last college attempt home and I have great organization skills, so I don’t really have to worry because I always pull thru anything and if I use “and” one more time I will have to shoot myself.

Add all that to the fact that I can't sleep for more then 3 hours at a time and you can get a pretty good picture. Oh, and I am also wondering why I didn't panic the first time I went to college. I cannot remember one moment of panic then but now it's Insane Asylum Express. Imagine what it would be like if I drank coffee(yes, in the interest of not buzzig like an atomic bee I have stopped the coffee intake for now-but I am smoking like a maniac, which only seems to make me more nervous).

And, yes, I know that there are still 5 and a half months to go and everything will be fine, clothes will be bought, bags will be made to fit somehow, research will be done and hair will be cut. I just really wish my brain would stop working for 24 hours so that I can get a good night sleep. No, really, I’ll be fine. I hope. I just have to remember to breathe. But please don’t suggest that I be rational. That would cut drastically into my insane time.

I just need a hug.

Creative writing blogroll

Blue

I sit on the coffee table. All day, every day. You might think this is weird if you didn’t know the truth, and the truth is that I am a car. A miniature blue Ford Model T, if you’d like to be specific. I used to belong to a man named Dominic. He was quite a nice guy. But one day he moved out and he left me on Mary’s coffee table, which is where I am now. Again, I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here. Mary is Dominic’s ex-girlfriend. I don’t think she likes me very much but she lets me sit here, minding my own business and dusts me once in a while. Which is all I’m asking for, to be honest. The advantage of being a miniature car that sits on a coffee table is that I get to see what goes on in people’s lives. In Mary’s life, at least. She’s a nice girl only that she’s been sad since Dominic left. I can’t really blame her. I miss him too. I remember the day he brought me home. But I’m getting sidetracked here so I won’t tell you how he pulled me out of the box and looked at me like I was magic and then sat me next to the other cars. No, sir, I won’t get sentimental. I won’t even tell you about my two friends, the red Ford Meteor or the black Thunderbird. I miss them as well. OK, back to what I was saying. Since Dominic left, Mary hasn’t brought home another man, which I have to say is fine by me. I don’t want another man. She did bring a friend and they sat on the couch and watched movies and I even let them put that big and cold bowl of ice cream in front of me because Mary was crying and I didn’t want to make her even sadder. After that she seemed a bit better. She still cries sometimes but only when no one else is around. That is if you don’t count me but I don’t think she knows I’m more then just a car. Oh, and the clock on the wall but he’s not a nice guy. He doesn’t talk to me because I am just a “tiny little car”. I bet he’s French. Stuck up creep.

Please excuse me for a moment but the annoying phone with which I have to share my coffee table is ringing. Can’t he see it’s 2 in the morning? What kind of person calls at this time of night? Mary’s not going to be too pleased with this. Just as I anticipated…she’s walking out of her bedroom and she’s looking really mad. Boy, is the phone going to get it now! Oh, no, she’s crying again! No, Mary, don’t cry…Huh, I guess she heard me because now she’s smiling. She didn’t slam the phone. Weird, she doesn’t look mad anymore. Wait a second, there’s someone at the door.

Dominic! Dominic’s back! He’s back, he’s back, he’s back! Aw, man, I want to cry. Why did the Tin Man get to cry and I don’t? They’re kissing and…Hey, buddy, where are you putting those hands? They look happy.

Maybe now he’ll move all the other cars back and I won’t be alone anymore.

Worst lodgings ever

Week 3 of the Blog roll

I’m pretty fond of camping so I don’t have a worst hotel story but I have been to a couple of pretty bad summer camps. This post if for them and my, how I wish things have changed in the past few years.

The first wasn’t so bad as far as accommodations go but the food was so bloody awful we were living off cans and chocolate. The main course at lunch, every day, was a green thing with some unidentified bits of something(vegetable, I assume) in it.

Another one(yes, I went to a lot of camps…something about being far away from my insane family made them heaven on earth for me) was actually fun. Until day 3 when the water ended(there was a big tank and the camp was full of kids) so for the rest of the time we were there we had to wash ourselves at the faucet in the woods. Yep, boys and girls, we had to walk in the goddamned forest(not that far, just a few feet) to brush our teeth. And yet I still didn’t want to go home. This was the camp where we had to walk 7 km each way for smokes and soda.

The worst of them all was one where the rooms were filled with around 15-20 military beds which were absolutely impossible to sleep on(and I can sleep anywhere) and one closet for the whole bunch of girls. And, believe it or not, this was not the worst part. The worst was that bears came every night to eat out of the garbage cans that were about 30-40 feet from the building. Entertainment the Animal Planet way. And we, of course, being stupid children, would gather outside to watch the bears. They would sometimes walk past our bedroom window. Safe? No way! Cool? Absolutely. After all, who can brag that they spent a week being visited by bears every night(well, except for the other kids who were there that summer)? I also kissed a boy for the first time there. Ah, good times, good times.

As you know by now, look to the left to see other people who have written about this subject(this was one of 3 topics this week so also look for stories about phobias and April Fool's).

Birthday time!

Yes, it’s once again time for April Fool’s and while the whole world is busy playing pranks I am busy giving my pup many kisses and hugs because it’s his adoption birthday. Two years ago today a white, almost round little thing pattered his little paws and came home with me. He might not always be the most obedient thing the world but I don’t mind, because every time he does something stupid he puts on the big, big eyes and all is forgiven and I am left there wondering why I was mad in the first place. What can I say? He’s my weak spot. So in honor of this very special event I’ve made a small video(not the best thing ever because it was made with the photobucket editor but yeah…).



Now please excuse me while I go torture him with even more hugs.

The tribe has spoken

That’s it, I’m voting everyone of my island! Oh, if only I had an island, all to myself. You can send Milo, Rudolf, Jack, Adrian and Mark(Ventimiglia, Martin, Nicholson, Pasdar and Selby) to entertain me. And no computers, pretty please. Oh, the fun we’d have. Actually the fun I’d have. But I’ll settle for an island even without my pretty men as long as there are no computers there and more importantly no morons asking me to fix it! Gah! I am not magic. I know I am amazing but seriously, I cannot find that thing you were writing and didn’t save before your computer went boom. And just so you know, telling me to fix it or just teach you what to do doesn’t work. How do you teach someone to be on the Internet? Huh? I can setup an email account for you, show you how to use it, show you what Google is and what Google does but I’m going to need a bit more info before I can tell you what you can do on the Internet. There are many wonderful things there…but I cannot read your mind and guess what you’re interested in, okay? And no, you’ll have to find your own porn.


As you can tell I’ve had a bad week. Thankfully it was a snooker week(China Open time) so that helped me keep a bit of my sanity. Now I am just going to watch the final, go out, grab a couple of beers and then take a long hot bath with my new cherry-bubble-gum flavored bubble-bath thingy and forget all about the morons that I know. And dream of my island.

What I like about me

Week 2 of the Blog Tour.

So, I have been thinking about this topic for the past 3 days. I have thought which way I should go- the slightly nutty, but oh, so adorable or the serious one. I have thought really hard about this. Trust me. So here are some of the things I like about me:

I like that I am not a shoe person. I own 3 pairs of shoes: sneakers, boots and a pair of classy shoes. Up until one month ago I owned 2 pairs of shoes. I don’t know anyone who owns so few pairs of shoes. But the best part about this is that it saves me money. Let me do a bit of math here. My sneakers were 90$. My boots 125$. My shoes 30$. That is an average of 80$ for a pair of footwear. Now imagine if I owned 10 pairs of shoes. 20.
…Of course, the money I save go on books and movies. Oh, well.

I like that I am a movie fanatic. I have a friend who calls me instead of checking imdb. Every time she calls and asks me a movie question I get all giddy inside.
…And I get most of the references they make in Gilmore Girls.

I like that I can find a Gilmore correspondent for almost every situation in real life. And even though I cannot explain to most people why I am laughing and if I try they look at me funny I still think it’s the best thing ever.
…And I’m still waiting for the perfect moment to say “I am sleeping with the zucchini”.

I like my hair. It’s finally long. I’ve wanted long hair since I was 2 or 3. Mom always cut it short because it was easier to comb. Now it’s long and pretty and it has a mind of its own.
…And it’s a pain to comb.

I like that I am not the world’s worst writer. I am not the best either but at least I don’t have the need to use “angelic” every 3 lines to describe every thing from a voice to a look to the belt-buckle of the character.
…Yes, I know someone who is overly fond of that word.

I like that I can be brutally honest if the situation requires me to be but I can also smile and lie if I have to play nice.
…I prefer to be honest, though.

I like that I am spontaneous. I can be ready to leave the house in 7 minutes or 30 if I am staying for more then 2 days.
…Of course, this means that I often forget things but I now own 3 toothbrushes. I had 7 at one point.

I like that I sometimes spend hours talking to someone equally obsessed as I am trying to come up with new Heroes theories and explain some things.
…Seriously, why didn’t Peter just go thru the door?

But what I like most about me is that I can make fun of me, and so can other people and I will not be offended. I can be an idiot sometimes-but I also have my bright moments-
…I think I developed this skill from being related to my family.

As always, you can look to the left of the page and see other people who have written about this subject.

...Yeah, I went the sligtly nuttier way.