The Glass Castle

SO, my friend Rebecca was reading this book at work the other day, and she kept just shaking her head and gasping and putting it down and picking it back up again and mumbling things like "These people are crazy!!" while she turned the pages. Naturally, I was intrigued.

She then started telling me snippets of stories out of the book. Apparently it was about some crazy family, and it was being told from the second oldest daughter's point of view, starting at age three. For example: On a family trip (which was actually an escape from officials for driving a car with no registration and a stolen license plate) and instead of piling all the kids into the cabin with the parents, they were shoved into the back of the Uhaul with the furniture. No joke. For a 14 hour drive, four little kids and a newborn baby wobbled around in the back of the truck while their parents took the scenic route to their new home. The six year old was given the responsibility of holding the baby for the entire drive. As if this wasn't bad enough, at one point the back doors of the Uhaul flew open and almost sucked the kids right out! Since the furniture was secured with ropes against the cabin side of the truck, the kids had no way to notify their parents until a fellow driver honked and shone their brights and got the parents' attention.

Did they decide that the back of the truck maybe wasn't the best place for four kids under the age of 8? NOPE. They shut the kids back into the airtight, pitch black compartment and resumed their journey.

At first I did NOT believe that it was a true story. I just could not bring myself to believe that parents could neglect their children to that degree without caring or worrying about their safety. I decided to read the book for myself, and it panned out. Its a memoir written by Jeannette walls, a prominent columnest and successful news reporter, and it is all completely true. And that is only one story out of close to a hundred listed in the book.

Jeannette Walls

The only thing that kept me reading this book through all the neglect and selfishness of Jeannette's parents was the fact that the kids were left to fend for themselves, and I desperately wanted them to make it out of their situation and have normal lives. Every step of the way, I was rooting for the incredibly resilient Walls kids and just marveling at their parents. They neglected their kids, yes. But I know for a fact that their father loved them all, and tried to a greater extent than their CRAZY A$$ mother!!!

It is a seriously thought provoking book. It makes you think all about all of opportunities and choices every person has, and gave me a huge gigantic swell of humility and gratitude for the way I was raised. It made me realize just how lucky I was that my parents chose to be good parents. And I know it wasn't easy sometimes. I love you Mom and Dad, thank you for not trowing us in the back of the Uhaul.

I give this book an A+ for inspiration, and a C- on the cleanliness scale. Prospective readers beware: It has its share of profanity and some really traumatic situations. There is one F word and several sexual references throughout the story. It is not a light read. I can't say that the profanity is completely excuseable, but the entire story is from a little girl's point of view and she is simply repeating true life events from her speckled past. I know I feel uplifted from reading it, but we can all be our own judges. Read it if you want, I'm neither endorsing it or nor discouraging you from reading it. I for myself loved it. It really changed my outlook on life for the better.

Thanks for Nothing

Dear Anonymous Guy,

Thank you for making me cry on the floor of my bedroom for a week. Thank you for ruining my self esteem, and being the biggest let down of my life. Thank you for pretending you didn't know me at all. Thanks for pretending you didn't see me at that concert last year. Thank you for not keeping any of the plans YOU MADE. And, Thank you for still occasionally ruining my day after all this time.

Love, Me.


Dear Universe,

Thank you for letting him get worms while he was on his mission.

Love, Me.

Freaky Friday

OKay. So usually nothing weird has ever happened to me on Friday the 13th. And, I always secretly wish sometimes something would go crazy. I officially take it back. I was watching a movie out on our apartment complex's front lawn tonight with my ward. Kind of a creepy movie. "Rear Window" by Alfred Hitchcock. It's pretty good. Kind of cheesy in a 50's kind of way. And it definitely had its super creepy parts. HOWEVER. The creepiest part about tonight had nothing to do with the movie.

So there I was, tensed up in front of the projector screen thinking to myself, "That guy across the way is totally the murderer. Why doesn't anyone believe Jimmy Stewart? He's on 'It's a wonderful life. Everyone knows he wouldn't lie'... then again, he was on Mr. Krueger’s Christmas. Should I really trust his judgment..??" and other such serious contemplations. All of a sudden, I hear this weird swish swish swish sound... and nervous giggles. I look up, and there he was. El Diablo. There was a creepy, jolly, GIANT PINK BUNNY bouncing down the street in those weird bouncy moon boots. I seriously almost messed my self. I had so much anxiety. Childhood flashback: going to Chucky Cheese for my cousin's birthday party, and having a panic attack when the big mouse came out. I have an irrational fear of giant animal costumes. Especially their huge heads. Shudder. Anyway. Back to the story. So this crazy-A bunny just keeps boppin around, and some guy who had been walking along the sidewalk ran into the middle of the street. And they hugged. It was sooooo bizarre. By this time the nervous giggles turned into roars of laughter. It was just crazy. And everyone was lookin around at each other like what on EARTH is happening. I however, was not laughing.

THEN. I pulled a move that has been out of practice since my Chucky Cheese days. I found myself silently and secretly pleading with the universe: do not let him come near me. Do not let him come over here. Please don't let him see me. Because if he comes near me I will seriously have a problem. I repeated these thoughts over and over in my mind. Grasping for one fleeting sense of control.

Alas, my deepest fears were realized anyway. He bounded over onto the grass where we were all laying on our blankets and circled around us like a giant, rabid, pink fuzzy shark. He then stopped, and made a super weird bunny giggle. At this point I had to take a step back (only figuratively. I was frozen on the grass with fear) and ask myself: Am I on acid? I WISH! It was 100% reality.

After three giant hops in the air, the pink devil jogged back to the middle of the street and climbed into a pick up truck full of his non-bunny friends. They honked and said, "Have a great night!" and drove away.

Ya. Like I'm not going to have sweaty nightmares about this for the rest of my LIFE. Thanks for nothin you nasty pink bunny. I hate you.

Snap Crackle & Pop

So. I'm about 75% sure some guys just threw some firecrackers onto my balcony. Which is really, really, lame in my eyes. Two guys were laughing and talking outside... and then I heard a symphony of super loud snaps and pops right outside my window. I could feel the pops bouncin off... I mean, my bed is right against my outside wall. The commotion was followed by silence. And then a couple muffled mannish giggles.

If a guy wants to get my attention, he can freaking walk up to me and say hi. Who on earth sits there and thinks to himself... "I like(hate?) that girl with the balcony. I think I'll throw some deafening explosives at her window, and then she'll totally pay attention to me!"

Sorry guys, I will never come anywhere near you. I'm allergic to jack-aces.

Anyone with that thought process does not even warrant a peek through the blinds. So I waited about 20 minutes and then went to check it out. There were no burn marks or anything like that. I turned off my porch light and came back inside. But don't worry. They are setting off huge illegal fireworks between our buildings now.

Oh.... Muffin Top

W0rk is super slow right now. So. I have just been surfing the web, waiting for students to come in and take tests so I can sign them in. I stumbled across this article, and it made me laugh.

"Letter to a Muffin Top: What every Girl Should Tell Her Love Handles

My Favorite Quote from this Article:

"You [the muffin top] went by un-noticed, mostly because the scale never lied; it never went up. The change was small, sneaky, dishonest, and before I knew it, there you were, eating out of my fridge like a roommate I didn’t know I had."

Ba hahahaha

Enjoy!

And if you are a guy, and reading this.... don't be expecting to understand it. You probably won't.

"Don't quote me. Don't ever quote me..."

I'll leave them anonymous. But I'm sorry, these are gems I can't keep to myself...

"Boys are just babies with facial hair."

"Honey, I'm glad you're green!"

"Those ducks look so cold. I'm going to knit them all sweaters."

"Beach and boardwalk is a DUMP. Its where all the losers hang out. The ones who can't afford to pay entrance fees. It's NOT that nice."

"Its hotter than snot outside!"
Me: Snot isn't hot. That doesn't make sense.
"Fine, its hotter than DIARRHEA!"

"Leopard...................... zeopard."

... More to come as I remember them.

Oh man. It's going to be one of those days.

I almost swallowed my mouthwash this morning. I'm really bad a gargling, and I don't know why. I didn't even get one good gargle in before having to spit out my Scope. It was actually kind of scary. I can just picture myself calling the poison control hot line, and having to tell them I accidentally swallowed my mouthwash. Embarrassing, but a near miss in reality.

I was reminded of some other things I haphazardly ingested when I was younger. No, not when I was a baby, when I was 10 and 12. I tried to eat 3 jello jigglers at the same time at an Achievement Days activity for our stake. And when I say "eat" I mean I tried to swallow three of them whole. It was half for amusement, and half for the sake of my curiosity and bewilderment at my esophageal capacity. I stopped breathing for a good 30 seconds, because my airways were completely blocked. I ran to the church bathroom and effectively regurgitated three mangled footprint-shaped jello jigglers into the sink. Too graphic? Sorry. You think I would have learned. But no. Two years later, I had another close encounter.

It all started out innocently enough. I was in the kitchen with my baby sister Michelle, who was about 5 at the time. I was pondering what I was going to eat for a snack, and I had a quarter in my hand. I thoughtfully pressed my hand to my chin, deep in contemplation. Michelle freaked out, and shouted something to the effect of "Don't choke on the quarter!!!" ... She was a worrier. So naturally, I being full of delicate grace and maturity at age twelve, put the quarter in my mouth and pretended to choke on it. Michelle squealed, and I started laughing. Then I started ACTUALLY CHOKING on the quarter. Michelle started crying, and I seriously thought I was going to die. The quarter was heavy, so despite my frantic coughing, it just kept sinking further down into my throat. I had no choice. I had to swallow it before it settled over my windpipe. I would NOT be known as the girl who died choking on a quarter.

By this time Michelle was bawling, and everyone else in our little house came to see what the commotion was about. Every time someone else came into the room I had to repeat "Yes. I swallowed a quarter okay!?" It was so embarrassing. And then the pain came. It was kind of like eating Doritos you haven't chewed sufficiently. You know, that spiky-chip-going-down-my-esophagus feeling. Except it lasted for a HALF HOUR. My dad had to call the emergency room and get their advice. We didn't know whether we should go in or just wait it out. He told the nurse the situation, and she asked him how old I was. "Twelve" he grumbled. She then asked how tall I was, and how much I weighed. "She's 5'8'' and weighs about 120 lbs." .... Pause. The nurse went on to say that I would be fine. But that I shouldn't put money in my mouth anymore or something like that. I still remember the look on Dad's face. It was solemn, with embarrassed disbelief at the fact he actually had to call the emergency room because his grown daughter swallowed a quarter.

I forever feared metal detectors at public transportation stations and other facilities after that. I'm happy to report there hasn't yet been any hold ups at security stations or body cavity searches.

As fun as this jaunt down memory lane has been. I need to find a cough drop. My throat hurts. Don't swallow scope.

Inverse Insomnia

Weird. So. I have had trouble this week getting to sleep. And when I don't get to sleep, I basically just get barfy. But its that tortuous pseudo barfiness where you want to barf because you just feel nasty, but your body never really goes into full on barf mode.

Anyway, I haven't been getting to sleep until like 2 or 3 regardless of my best efforts. That causes a problem, because then I either sleep in and miss part of work, or I go to work without getting ready at all. I don't think my office appreciates my homeless-couture outfits and hairstyles. I mean, I usually get my make up done during my lunch hour, so I look half decent for 50% of my day, but I can't undo the damage done to all who have to be around me for my grumpy, barfy first wave of consciousness.

So last night, I was super tired. Get this... I was watching the discovery channel and I actually turned it off so that I could get to sleep. In the middle of a show. At 8:45! It was just barely starting to look like night time outside, and I was out like Hellen Keller in musical chairs. So then, at like 3:45 AM I had a nightmare about bears (I'm scared of them okay?!) and now I'm up for the day. Here's the weirdest thing: I feel just fine. I mean, maybe it works for some people. Like farmers. They get up at 4 in the morning to milk cows and stuff, and maybe they're onto something. I don't even have dark circles under my eyes. And no, I'm not on any drugs. Whoever said one hour of sleep before midnight was worth two hours after midnight wasn't lying.

So.. when I stay up late and wake up late I feel like grade A caca. But when I go to bed early and wake up early I feel excellent. Why did it take me so long to figure that out? Probably because I'm just a college kid. Bed time never really had a lot of value as long as I got at least 7 hours. I didn't think it made a difference, so why go to bed and be a party pooper? Oh I don't know. Maybe because its better for me. I mean, I'm not going to go to bed at 9 every night. That was not the decision made based on the outcome of my experience last night. BUT. The concept has been proven, and I would be an idiot not to go to bed early knowing now that it does make a difference. I don't want to be a farmer, but I do want to be better at getting to bed early.

And what have I done in the last 4 hours you ask? Well. I paid all my bills and took care of some other annoying stuff like that.

I'm going to go make breakfast, maybe hit the gym and maybe even get to work looking decent. Fancy that.