I’m very excited about this year. The guard is like none I’ve been with before. We all click. Our personalities just mesh really well. It’s different than last year, or the year before. We all got along last year at first. But as the year progressed, things went sour. I just pray that the vibe from the first few days continues. It would be a sad day when the previous year was repeated. The drama and stress levels of everyone shot through the roof. Things were said and done that never should have happened….but this year seems to be better.
We even have a male joining us. No one knew about him until Monday morning. I didn’t know about him…I was shocked when he was walking with us to talk about uniforms. I’m a very….social person, so I was jumping up and down and hugging him. It’s like having my best guy friend from high school with me. I am uber excited about him. He brings a special attitude to practice-and some great stories. We get along so well.
All that aside, I bought my books for school today. Seven. Seven books. My literature class took 3 alone, and I didn’t get the “purchase” book required. I already have a copy of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, so I figured I’d save some money. I start classes next week. And work. One of the guard girls got a job at the same place, so I’m a little more excited about it now.
I also move the rest of my things on Saturday. I am going back to Arkansas tomorrow evening and packing everything I think I’ll need or want and hitting the road with my parents as early as possible on Saturday. My friend of almost 15 years is joining me…and my parents don’t know it yet. They don’t really like her, but I do. She is coming up here to see my apartment and we are going to try to have some fun before she moves next Monday. We’re going to be about 5 hours away from each other and we aren’t used to that. We’ve always been fairly close. We share clothing all the time. Speaking of which, I need to return some things I believe. So, she’s coming with us. I don’t know if my father knows about the male living with us…I know my mother does, but my father won’t like it….Oh well.
I’ll try to post a few pictures on Saturday.
Tag Archive: friend
Today was my last day with that stupid pager from work. I didn’t know until around 3pm that I would give it up before I left for the day. And I go in to work from 8am to 5pm again instead of the 7am to 4pm that I have been working. That’s fine by me, I presume. I was enjoying the 1.5 hours of overtime that I was granted just for carrying that piece of crap. However, I will still be getting paid an acceptable amount per hour, so the next (and final) 2 pay checks will be okay.
It was a fitting last day with the pager. Normally it starts to beep at me at 6am. However, this morning was special. The darned answering service must have been in on the whole plan since they pulled such a stunt this morning. I was sleeping in my room after a long day of video making, cooking and cleaning. I fell asleep without my pager next to me on the bed, for the first time ever. I was startled this morning when I was woken up by the pager. I panicked a little when I could not find the source of the noise. I finally found it in my purse on the opposite side of my bedroom. I pulled it out and switched on the light. GERBER. I know the company. They start at 4:30am. 4:30AM. I called the answering service from my cell phone and then proceeded to call the person who called in the order. She is a co-worker. She knows. I called her and she was surprised. She has never, never heard of them paging that out until around 6am. She told me to go back to sleep and to not worry about it till I got to work later. I agreed. And I did just that. It was a fitting end.
Quite a bit happened at work today. I made new friends. Friends who don’t just want to be friends. I had a co-worker trying to hook me up with his buddy, an employee call me “Good-looking” as opposed to using my actual name or saying “ma’am”, an employee stare at my non-existent cleavage and I heard inappropriate phrases multiple times. It was funny. I laughed. One guy actually had the balls to ask me when I got lunch ’cause he wanted to join me. I’ve had one write me a love letter at which I laughed endlessly, one ask me constantly for my phone number (I now tell him that I am Amish and do not believe in phones), several guys keep making comments on my clothing (like I have such nerve to wear “revealing” clothes to work…). It is becoming more and more amusing to walk out into the interview area and see these guys straighten up in a meaningless attempt to impress me. I always leave that part of work laughing.
In other news, I have new video footage. I recorded quite a bit of my friend and I cooking…well, attempting to make some pasta. We failed miserably. But it was fun, so we don’t care. I am making one last video before I get on the plane full of friends and fun times…and then I’ll make one of the actual trip to New York….
I cleaned quite a bit of my bedroom yesterday. I threw loads of paper and crap I kept for no reason out. I am donating clothes to the Salvation Army, so my closet won’t be so crowded. I found some interesting things in the process. Notes from AGS (Arkansas Governor’s School) which I attended the summer before my senior year, letters from friends…one in particular made me freak. It was a letter that I was given in a futile attempt to stop some guy from committing suicide. I knew the guy who wrote it, and I knew exactly why he did. I was in awe as I read this letter (which was addressed to a mutual friend of the two of us) and the impact the friend had on him. And I can relate so well. I really can. And it scares me.
7 days left.
I was informed that my last post was…insufficient. So, here is a longer post. Nothing too interesting about it…but here you go. Happy now?
I hate my job.
:: Let me elaborate. I really hate my job. I can’t stand going into work every day of the week. I dread waking up in the mornings. I am so exhausted after work, that I could sleep 10 hours straight every night. And I don’t usually sleep that much. I can’t stand to get the much sleep. But it’s an escape from the hell that is my work place. The only problem with sleeping so much is that I dream about work. I fell asleep in the tanning bed one afternoon…and dreamed about work. I can’t get away from there.
I only have 27 days left.
:: And the fact that the whole trip is starting to seem surreal….I am more excited about this than I think I have ever been about anything. I can’t wait. I get to count down the days at work on my desk. (The one thing that keeps me from shooting myself…or someone else.) I am constantly thinking about the trip. I get to finally do all the things that I’ve been planning, hoping, dreaming, wishing…everything. It’s going to be one of the highlights of my life. I’m so excited! New York!!!
I spent the afternoon with a friend today.
:: I got to see a friend today. We went tanning…and then to eat…and then to her apartment for YouTube videos. And I had her watch-well, listen really-a video that I saw-or heard-yesterday. The reactions were priceless. I wish I had them on film. It was so much fun to watch her…I need to find more of those videos so I can record the reactions….
I don’t even know where to begin on this post. I have killed myself. Not the whole of myself, but a large portion. It wasn’t a good side of myself, and I knew it.
“Just do it. You know you need to.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”
“Look at what it is doing to you.”
“I’m scared.”
But I did it anyway. I took control. I killed a part of myself. I’ve known this part for a while. Almost 10 years. It had become my best friend and my worst enemy. It pushed me to do things I never thought I would ever do. It gave me strength and made me weak. It possessed my thoughts almost the entire time I was awake. And sometimes in my dreams. I took a huge step toward recovery from anorexia.
::I was on the phone with my friend on Friday night. We are sitting there talking like always and out of nowhere my heart starts hurting. Every beat was pain. It was also very rapid. He knew I had been taking diet pills for a while and started commenting on that. I was angry that he even brought it up. He kept on about how I need to just throw them all out. I was floored. It wasn’t the first time he had said that. However it was the first time I really thought about doing it.
::I sat there for a while. He was still talking, but I had zoned out for the most part. I just thought about how people would react to it. I knew one other friend would be ecstatic. One would be furious. One would be hurt. One would be this, another would be that. I thought about how I would tell others who knew about my taking diet pills.
:The it hit me. Why should I care about what they would say? This is my life. Why should I let someone else determine it? And for that matter, why should I let these pills control me? I got angry. I was angry that I had let something start controlling me. I kept telling myself that I chose to take them, that I chose when to take them, which ones to take, ect. It really hit me on Friday that I wasn’t in control anymore. I heard people tell me that, but I never wanted to believe them. So I didn’t.
::So I got up, still on the phone with my friend, tears running down my face. I went to my room. I opened the closet door. I pulled out the pills. I sat them on my bed in front of me. I just looked at them. I heard a voice in my head screaming. No, two voices.
“What are you waiting for? Just do it!”
“What do you think you are doing? Don’t listen to him! You can still take them!”
“Look at what you have become. Is this really what you want?”
“You are so in control. Look at what you have accomplished. You’re beautiful.”
“You are so thin. You have a problem. Deal with it.”
“It would be a waste to just throw them out. You could even sell them. And buy better ones.”
“Do you really want someone else to go through this? It’s hell.”
“It’s a good two month supply. Just sell them and get better ones. No one has to know.”
“Just throw them out. Flush them. Get rid of them. Get control!”
“You are in control. Just look at the box.”
::That’s when I looked at the Dexatrim Max2O. On the box. Word for word. “Puts you in control.” I laughed. My friend heard me and asked what I was laughing at. I told him and it really hit me. I used to think that taking pills was cheating. I didn’t think you deserved to reap the benefits of a smaller pant size if you took pills. The irony of my life was amusing to me.
::So I got a sandwich bag. I put all of the pills in it. Every single one. The laxatives, followed by the Hoodia, then the Fat Burners, the Dexatrim Max2O next. I saved my favorite for last. I picked up the bottle of the Apple Cider Vinegar Diet pills. I took one before almost every meal. I would sneak them around in a bottle originally used for ibuprofen. I loved them. I looked at them in my hand. My friend is still encouraging me to just get rid of them. He keeps restating how I don’t need to be a slave to these pills. I sit there for a while just in awe. I thought about how I could just buy more. I knew exactly where the were at the store, how much, ect. I popped open the bottle. I poured them in the bag.
::I felt like a drug dealer. The colors mixed in were beautiful to me, and yet disgusting. I could sit there and name off every one. I knew when to take them, what to take them with, how long they would take to kick in, what I could mix with what…everything. The sandwich bag was full. I was amazed at how much money had went into that. A good 40 or so dollars, I believe. All for pills. All for my “gods”.
“Just get it over with. Flush them.”
“I can’t. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I can’t do it in the house.”
“Where do you need to go?”
“I don’t know. The lake maybe.”
::So at 2 am I get my phone, the sandwich bag full of pills and my keys and I go down the dirt road from my house to the boat dock and fishing pier. I get out of the car and walk to the concrete standing area. All the while, tears coming down my face, my friend in my ear telling me I can do it and my own thoughts racing. It all seemed so surreal at this point. I pull the bag out of my hoodie and just stand there looking into the water. No one is around, save me and my “friends”.
::I open the bag and pick out of the the pills. I toss it into the water. I start crying more. I pick out another and toss it. I can’t stand it anymore and just dump them all in. I can’t control myself and just sob. I have no strength and lean over the railing. A part of me wants to jump in after them. A part of me cries as it meets a watery grave. Another part of me cries happy tears. A part of me is free.
Everyone has seen those television shows about people moving out of the house they’ve lived in for years, and then coming back and walking through after some other homeowners have made drastic changes. I never thought I’d live to see the day where I was doing that. The only thing I didn’t have was Doug walking me through with a camera crew watching and filming my every move and emotion.
The house I’m talking about is my grandparents’ house. It was basically a second home to me and my immediate family, seeing as how my grandparents were the only ones living there and they had 2 extra bedrooms. That house on 6th street was so hard to let go. I loved the neighborhood, until I really grew up and saw how bad it was. I could literally walk less than half a block to the park, and then across the street to my great-grandmother’s house. I also had the church I grew up in about a block from my grandparents’ house, as well as Sonic. I loved it.
It’s been almost 2 and a half years since we’ve sold the house. I’ve driven by it so much just wanting to go in and see the changes the new family has done. I know a trivial amount of information about them, so I’ve always been curious as to what modifications they made. There was so much that could have been done to the house, the layout, the pool, the pool house, everything. With all that potential, I just had to know what they did. So, my cousin, Isabella and I are driving around one night. And my cousin, Eunice, asks to drive by the house after we play around at the park down the street for a while. We drive over to the house, and park on the side where we always did. The fence going all the way around, like when we were kids, was completely untouched. The window to the living room still had the rock garden underneath, with the same rocks. We go up the steps to the front door, right next to the window to the room our grandfather slept in. It felt so surreal. The excitement peaked as the doorbell rang and the three of us stood there listening for footsteps. The door finally opened and we were greeted by an elderly woman and a young boy, looking about 3 years old but very small.
“Um, hi?”
“You don’t know us, but we used to live here. Well, sort of. This was our grandparents’ house.”
The woman gave a nod, accompanied by a look of bewilderment and confusion mixed with intrigue.
“I know this sounds strange, but we were wondering if we could look around the house. We’ve been wondering what has been done for a while now. We understand if you don’t want us in here.”
“Oh! It’s fine. Come on in.”
“Oh thank you so much. We really appreciate this.”
We walk into the living room with unsteady footsteps. What changed was everything! The wall color was beautiful, but that had replaced the textured wall paper we had grown to know and love. The carpet had been removed to expose the gorgeous wood floors. I’d heard stories about my grandmother taking care of the floors before carpet had been put in, but I had never actually seen it. Not even in pictures. The layout had changed almost entirely. What used to be a doorway to the hall was now a bookshelf. The television was on another wall completely, alluding to the fact that the wiring was changed. The entry to the dining room was the same, however the wood floor had continued. The dining room had a new walkway to the hall and the old door had been removed. The room that used to be my grandfather’s was now painted purple and was home to two young girls. The fact that my grandfather had died in that room brought tears to my eyes. I hadn’t been in the room since then almost. We walked down the hallway to the bathroom. It was the only room that hadn’t changed. The flowered wallpaper was still in tact. It was refreshing to see they kept something the same. We entered the dining room again and went into the kitchen. I have never in my life seen such a dramatic change. The bar had been replaced by an island, new cabinets completely, the oven and stoves were moved and completely new as well, along with the door to the deck being removed. The sliding glass doors had been taken out and a new laundry room was in its place. The new laundry room, which was huge and gorgeous, lead to the room that used to by my grandmother’s after she got too disabled to stay in the other room. The bathroom was still there, along with the door to the spare bedroom, which is now being occupied by another person. The door from my grandmother’s old room to the deck was gone, which is a shame. The window in the door had beautiful artwork. I was hoping to see the old pool house, but it is being rented out as an apartment. It always had a bathroom and private access (it was a good 30 feet from the house) and cable and everything. It also had direct access to the in-ground pool. However, we didn’t get to see it because it was locked.
So the tour ended, and we found ourselves talking to the woman who let us in. She wasn’t the homeowner. She was their parent, and she was babysitting the grandchild. We continued to praise the changes, they were beautiful. The house always had potential to be utterly amazing if someone would take the time and put some effort into it. So, we said our thank you’s and goodbye’s.
As we walked back to the car, Eunice and I were discussing the changes and our thoughts. We did agree that the changes were beautiful, but we couldn’t call that house “home” anymore. It wasn’t ours anymore.
