I lived pretty much in the same place for the majority of my life. I started out with my mom and my grandparents in a little pink and white house in Burlington, Washington. When I was four, my Mom got married and we moved onto her new husband's farm on the outskirts of civilization somewhere between Lyman and Hamilton, Washington. I stayed there until about two months after I turned 18. Then, I did what so many do. I set out to find a place of my own and learn how to be grown up in the respect of being self sufficient for all my vital needs.
It was a very windy and bumpy road that got me to my first apartment. I lived in four different houses before I finally moved into my own apartment with my friend. I started out in my Ganny and Papa's (my father's parents) house in Bellingham. A few months later, I moved to Oak Harbor to live my grandparents (my mother's parents). A few months after that, I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle that also lived in Oak Harbor, and not much longer after that, I moved in my Dad's house in Blaine, Washington.
From this, I discovered one very important thing. You never really become completely independent when you live with relatives. They have expectations of you, and even though you might be paying rent to live there, and perhaps you occasionally buy your own groceries, it is far from being on your own. They want to know where you're going, how long you're going to be, and they want you to do certain things certain ways. Not to mention how they will complain to others in the family about the little things about you that bother them that they never noticed before you actually lived with them. No matter what, they will all treat you like a child because that is what they have always known you as. Or such was the case for me, anyway. I think it's great to live in a place where people are concerned about your well-being and love you.... but there came a time for me where this became too much and I knew I needed to be on my own even though the cost of living for me would more than double.
I moved into my first official apartment in the first week of July, 2007. My friend, Marcus, and myself chose this apartment carefully. We picked an area we liked and found an apartment complex that was affordable and looked newer, clean, and cozy. And so began the horrible process of learning that student housing apartments are made with very cheap materials and the property management companies that patrol them will suck you dry in every area that they possibly can.
I have many awesome memories from that apartment, and I really did like the layout of the place. However, I will avoid ever living in an apartment complex if I can help it.
I spent a good two months searching for a house that was privately owned and managed, so I could come back from Sweden to a place I could relax and enjoy inhabiting.
I ended up finding a four bedroom, two story house a little more than a mile away from my first apartment. The rent was affordable and I had two roommates lined up.
On the ride home from the airport when I got back from Sweden, I was really excited to see my new house. I don't know about anyone else, but when you do a walk-through when you're thinking about renting a place, you don't really get a thorough look at everything. It is just too much to intake all at once. So when move-in day finally comes, it's so exciting because you don't really know that much about your new home. The most I remembered about my house was the layout of the rooms and the outside because we did many drive-bys when deciding if we wanted to live there.
My two roommates had been living there for about three weeks before I came to join them. When the car pulled into the driveway sometime past midnight the first night I was to spend in my new house (HOUSE!!!!! not apartment!!), I could barely contain my excitement as I scrambled up the front steps and eagerly reached out for the front door. I stopped before my hand touched the doorknob and drew back in disgust. Two very fat, very horrifying spiders dangled on the door. Several webs decorated the porch I was standing on, and each one had an unwelcome occupant.
It was rather fortunate that I was so utterly exhausted from the insane trip I just returned from, because I had so little energy to dedicate to freaking out about the spiders infesting the outside of my home.
That night, I slept on a pad in the living room and spent the entire next day thoroughly inspecting and piecing together my new home.
The house was obviously made in the '70's. It must have been prime in it's day. It's been beat up quite a bit since then, and because it's so tattered, it's affordable! Most of the carpet is vomit colored. Some of the carpet was replaced with a cream colored carpet that has thousands of stains on it from hundreds of parties that have taken place there over the years. I absolutely love it. Pre-damaged means that I cannot possibly do too much to make it worse. I have taken this into consideration as I live with two party-animal boys. Fine, I can get pretty reckless and wild as well. But since I am the one that ends up cleaning, I am much more careful with what messes I make and where I make them. There is at least one wooden wall in every room in the house. There is a functional fireplace in the upstairs living room, and I am excited to hang our stockings there when it comes time to decorate for Christmas. The appliances look like they were updated sometime in the '90's, and they all function properly (so far, anyway...). The downstairs area is perfect for entertaining. A pool table sits in the middle of the room, a bar in one of the corners, and a sauna in the hallway just outside the den.
The outside of this place is brilliant. Padden Creek runs right through my backyard, and we have a hammock overlooking it and a bridge crossing it. Not to mention the awesome two-layer deck, and the padio outside the downstairs.
Over all, I am very pleased with this new home. All but the spider situation.
I discovered that the spider population was even worse that I thought. Spiders were everywhere in the house and the back porch. And these are not just any spiders. They are HUGE. Big, fat, well-fed garden spiders. Anyone who knows me well knows that I cannot stand spiders. When I see one, every hair on my body strains to stick straight up.
How do I deal with it? Well, I decided I would go with the Batman approach. Facing your worst fear and letting it turn you into a superhero. So I am now a superhero. A superhero with a very capable broom. A capable broom of death to spiders.
My roommates, Josh and Paul, and myself, decided that "The Web House" was a very fitting name for our new home.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Oh, Obama!
So yesterday marked a new beginning for the United States of America.
Now begins the presidential reign of Barack Obama and Joe Biden.
This election was the first one that actually meant something to me, to be honest. Even though politics mostly stress me out and I do not consider them 'fun' in any way, I am really excited to have been able to witness such an event as this year's Presidential Election. This one is bound to stand out in the history books.
I still harbor the same attitude towards the whole shenanigan, however. I had an extremely hard time deciding who to vote for, and in the end, no matter which way I voted, I was bound to get crap from people I am close to. Like I have explained before, most of my family and many of my close friends are quite conservative and republican, and most of my coworkers and lots of friends are extremely liberal and full-on democrats. I had more than my fill of discussions and arguments with both sides about many different subjects. I read more than I cared to read about the different candidates. I had a very difficult time filtering through everything I was hearing, reading, and seeing and choosing which information I wanted to base my decision on.
Now that it is all said and done, I don't feel much better about things. I feel like everyone around me is one extreme or the other. Every supporter of the democratic party has been absolutely ecstatic, and every republican mopes around as if the end of the world is coming. I remain indifferent. Even though the Presidential democratic party did receive my vote, I am not convinced. I am excited for change, but it is an excitement that is powered both by fear and hope. Actions speak louder than words, always. So, Mr. President, here is your opportunity. Earn back the faith and patriotism of the Americans by showing us that you were the right choice.
During the last Presidential campaign, I was attending college in Skagit County, and there were a few students that were running around trying to influence people to vote, but it was nothing like what I witnessed this year. Upon my return to the USA from Sweden, my friends, coworkers, WWU and WCC students, and even strangers I would pass on the streets were, not only suggesting, but forcefully pushing people verbally to vote, vote, VOTE! Thank you to those people that passionately pushed the young folks of Bellingham to care about their country's government. I am thoroughly impressed.
There is power in number, as life has proven repeatedly. I have heard a few of my disappointed conservative friends complain about how the citizens' vote doesn't really count for anything since the Electoral College performs the formal vote. But I am going to go out on a little limb here and say they're wrong. I feel like the number of voting citizens sends more of a message than we think it does. Power is a potentially scary thing and history has shown us over and over what happens when power falls into the hands of the wrong people. If we, the people, do not care to vote or concern ourselves with the leadership in this country, we are basically forking over the power that was bestowed upon us by our Founding Fathers and letting the government know that they could probably get away with tossing us around how they see fit and they will not get much of a resistance because there are not enough people that care enough to put up a fight. (How's that for a run-on sentence??) Even though we are not the final say on who moves into the White House, we are still getting the word out there that we care a lot who inhabits the place by getting our votes in. We are the influence.
It blows my mind that the majority of the world right now is stoked on this year's election. It makes me grateful to live in such an influential country and hopeful that it's universal fame will be used to initiate changes for the good worldwide.
Go America!
Now begins the presidential reign of Barack Obama and Joe Biden.
This election was the first one that actually meant something to me, to be honest. Even though politics mostly stress me out and I do not consider them 'fun' in any way, I am really excited to have been able to witness such an event as this year's Presidential Election. This one is bound to stand out in the history books.
I still harbor the same attitude towards the whole shenanigan, however. I had an extremely hard time deciding who to vote for, and in the end, no matter which way I voted, I was bound to get crap from people I am close to. Like I have explained before, most of my family and many of my close friends are quite conservative and republican, and most of my coworkers and lots of friends are extremely liberal and full-on democrats. I had more than my fill of discussions and arguments with both sides about many different subjects. I read more than I cared to read about the different candidates. I had a very difficult time filtering through everything I was hearing, reading, and seeing and choosing which information I wanted to base my decision on.
Now that it is all said and done, I don't feel much better about things. I feel like everyone around me is one extreme or the other. Every supporter of the democratic party has been absolutely ecstatic, and every republican mopes around as if the end of the world is coming. I remain indifferent. Even though the Presidential democratic party did receive my vote, I am not convinced. I am excited for change, but it is an excitement that is powered both by fear and hope. Actions speak louder than words, always. So, Mr. President, here is your opportunity. Earn back the faith and patriotism of the Americans by showing us that you were the right choice.
During the last Presidential campaign, I was attending college in Skagit County, and there were a few students that were running around trying to influence people to vote, but it was nothing like what I witnessed this year. Upon my return to the USA from Sweden, my friends, coworkers, WWU and WCC students, and even strangers I would pass on the streets were, not only suggesting, but forcefully pushing people verbally to vote, vote, VOTE! Thank you to those people that passionately pushed the young folks of Bellingham to care about their country's government. I am thoroughly impressed.
There is power in number, as life has proven repeatedly. I have heard a few of my disappointed conservative friends complain about how the citizens' vote doesn't really count for anything since the Electoral College performs the formal vote. But I am going to go out on a little limb here and say they're wrong. I feel like the number of voting citizens sends more of a message than we think it does. Power is a potentially scary thing and history has shown us over and over what happens when power falls into the hands of the wrong people. If we, the people, do not care to vote or concern ourselves with the leadership in this country, we are basically forking over the power that was bestowed upon us by our Founding Fathers and letting the government know that they could probably get away with tossing us around how they see fit and they will not get much of a resistance because there are not enough people that care enough to put up a fight. (How's that for a run-on sentence??) Even though we are not the final say on who moves into the White House, we are still getting the word out there that we care a lot who inhabits the place by getting our votes in. We are the influence.
It blows my mind that the majority of the world right now is stoked on this year's election. It makes me grateful to live in such an influential country and hopeful that it's universal fame will be used to initiate changes for the good worldwide.
Go America!
*Correction!
A reader pointed out that "All Saint's Day" is actually on November 1st, the day after "All Hallow's Eve".
My apologies for mixing up the facts, folks!
My apologies for mixing up the facts, folks!
Monday, November 3, 2008
This is Halloween!
As a child, I was prohibited from participating in any 'real' Halloween celebration. My family was very conservative and Christian, and Halloween is widely known for being a pagan holiday and thus something very evil and generally avoided by uptight Christians.
But, like most holidays, Halloween does not really serve the same purpose as it used to. America has a very special way of taking a historical tradition or celebration and turning it into an entertaining hullabaloo. Example? I have a couple. Easter is all about egg-shaped candy and a bunny that hides presents instead of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ; Christmas is all about Santa Claus, getting presents, and plastering every surface with outrageous decorations and not so much the birth of Jesus Christ; and Valentine's Day is all about flowers and chocolates and hearts instead of .... what's his name? Saint Valentine? See, that one is so far removed from it's original meaning that I have no idea where it originated from!
And then my main topic of interest for today.... Halloween.
Once upon a time, Halloween, or "All Hallow's Eve" or "All Saint's Day" was the one day a year, on October 31st, that the borders between the dead the living melted away and the Celtic Pagans of Ireland (also some in Scotland) held a giant festival where everyone got together to stockpile food for the winter. The children went from house to house, gathering fruits and berries to eat at the festival, and dress up like creatures you might find in the underworld. The people were quite superstitious and had many techniques of dealing with the presence of the dead being present in their territory. It is pretty common knowledge that the jack-o-lantern was a popular way of warding off evil spirits during this time.
I kind of enjoy the Americanized version of Halloween. These days, we don't really stick to the rules of dressing like only creatures of the underworld, or carving our pumpkins only to look terrifying like a demon. I wonder how many Americans actually participate in Halloween because they believe in what it stands for. They must stockpile their food for the winter and survive through a day of hosting the dead. I am sure there must be a few..
Growing up, my parents would take my sister and I to the church's alternative to Halloween: "Fall Festival". Like Atheists insist on calling Christmas "X-mas", the Christians insist on calling Halloween "The Fall Festival". I find that a little funny. It was fun, though. It was a building full of all sorts of games and candy and stuff.
This year, I participated in Halloween probably more than I ever have in my life. I dressed up and went out to downtown Bellingham with a couple friends of mine. I have never seen such a sight in my life! A couple thousand costumed people crowded the streets Holly and Railroad. It was like living in Hollywood for a night. So many different awesome costumes. I am rather fond of the Americanized Halloween that is all about crazy props and costumes that are never limited to only creatures of the underworld. Along with hundreds and hundreds of others, I watched a large group of zombies do a brilliant job of dancing out the choreography to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" in the middle of the road, stopping traffic for more than five minutes, I'm sure.
The little hippie folk town of Bellingham was absolutely shredded by the Halloween night life. And I was amongst it all, contributing to the chaos. It was fun!
....Plus, I met the Mad Hatter, and he bought me a drink or two. And I totally stole his tea cup and saucer and we had a very happy un-birthday at Boundary Bay. How cool is that?
But, like most holidays, Halloween does not really serve the same purpose as it used to. America has a very special way of taking a historical tradition or celebration and turning it into an entertaining hullabaloo. Example? I have a couple. Easter is all about egg-shaped candy and a bunny that hides presents instead of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ; Christmas is all about Santa Claus, getting presents, and plastering every surface with outrageous decorations and not so much the birth of Jesus Christ; and Valentine's Day is all about flowers and chocolates and hearts instead of .... what's his name? Saint Valentine? See, that one is so far removed from it's original meaning that I have no idea where it originated from!
And then my main topic of interest for today.... Halloween.
Once upon a time, Halloween, or "All Hallow's Eve" or "All Saint's Day" was the one day a year, on October 31st, that the borders between the dead the living melted away and the Celtic Pagans of Ireland (also some in Scotland) held a giant festival where everyone got together to stockpile food for the winter. The children went from house to house, gathering fruits and berries to eat at the festival, and dress up like creatures you might find in the underworld. The people were quite superstitious and had many techniques of dealing with the presence of the dead being present in their territory. It is pretty common knowledge that the jack-o-lantern was a popular way of warding off evil spirits during this time.
I kind of enjoy the Americanized version of Halloween. These days, we don't really stick to the rules of dressing like only creatures of the underworld, or carving our pumpkins only to look terrifying like a demon. I wonder how many Americans actually participate in Halloween because they believe in what it stands for. They must stockpile their food for the winter and survive through a day of hosting the dead. I am sure there must be a few..
Growing up, my parents would take my sister and I to the church's alternative to Halloween: "Fall Festival". Like Atheists insist on calling Christmas "X-mas", the Christians insist on calling Halloween "The Fall Festival". I find that a little funny. It was fun, though. It was a building full of all sorts of games and candy and stuff.
This year, I participated in Halloween probably more than I ever have in my life. I dressed up and went out to downtown Bellingham with a couple friends of mine. I have never seen such a sight in my life! A couple thousand costumed people crowded the streets Holly and Railroad. It was like living in Hollywood for a night. So many different awesome costumes. I am rather fond of the Americanized Halloween that is all about crazy props and costumes that are never limited to only creatures of the underworld. Along with hundreds and hundreds of others, I watched a large group of zombies do a brilliant job of dancing out the choreography to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" in the middle of the road, stopping traffic for more than five minutes, I'm sure.
The little hippie folk town of Bellingham was absolutely shredded by the Halloween night life. And I was amongst it all, contributing to the chaos. It was fun!
....Plus, I met the Mad Hatter, and he bought me a drink or two. And I totally stole his tea cup and saucer and we had a very happy un-birthday at Boundary Bay. How cool is that?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Celebrity Obsession Revisited
I took a Social Studies course while attending Whatcom Community College about a year and a half ago. My professor had us split into groups and choose several topics concerning social issues to create presentations on. I nominated "Celebrity Obsession", and we all agreed it was a very appropriate topic to address.
How often do you hear about this particular problem being acknowledged? Not very often. Know why? Maybe because the majority of news providers all promote it by feeding the sick obsession. How often do you catch yourself in a week's time dropping some kind of comment about a celebrity, either glorifying or insulting them? How much money gets dumped into the ridiculous tabloids that litter every grocery and convenient store? And the only reason those shelves stay filled is because America is so eager to consume material that will supposedly inform them intimately on the lives of famous people.
I am not trying to say that it is completely unhealthy to be informed on the lives of celebrities. They are celebrities for a reason, after all. But, come on. Everything in moderation!
So why exactly am I on this rampage about the overabundance of influence that is naturally empowered to the celebrities of this particular country? Allow me to explain.
I was reading an article in 'USA Today' newspaper that was completely dedicated to celebrity's presidential support. I expected to at least hear about celebrities actually 'doing' something to support the candidate of their choice. Oh silly me, there I go assuming again. One particular part of this article stood out to me. I read that Pierce Bronson was spotted in Malibu out with his family and he was.... *deep breath*...... (are you ready for this?!?!?)......WEARING AN OBAMA T-SHIRT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!!!
I laughed. Not that it was funny, but it kind of was in an ironic, sick way. It just sucks that there are people that work really hard to support their candidates of choice and barely get the appreciation they deserve and James Bond gets spotted by some money-hungry paparazzi for a couple minutes, and thousands upon thousands of Americans have read and recognized that Bronson supports Obama.
As I read about 007's clothing of choice, I thought of my friend Paul, who has been sporting a pin on his jacket reading "Old White Woman For Obama". If only he were a celebrity. If only.
How often do you hear about this particular problem being acknowledged? Not very often. Know why? Maybe because the majority of news providers all promote it by feeding the sick obsession. How often do you catch yourself in a week's time dropping some kind of comment about a celebrity, either glorifying or insulting them? How much money gets dumped into the ridiculous tabloids that litter every grocery and convenient store? And the only reason those shelves stay filled is because America is so eager to consume material that will supposedly inform them intimately on the lives of famous people.
I am not trying to say that it is completely unhealthy to be informed on the lives of celebrities. They are celebrities for a reason, after all. But, come on. Everything in moderation!
So why exactly am I on this rampage about the overabundance of influence that is naturally empowered to the celebrities of this particular country? Allow me to explain.
I was reading an article in 'USA Today' newspaper that was completely dedicated to celebrity's presidential support. I expected to at least hear about celebrities actually 'doing' something to support the candidate of their choice. Oh silly me, there I go assuming again. One particular part of this article stood out to me. I read that Pierce Bronson was spotted in Malibu out with his family and he was.... *deep breath*...... (are you ready for this?!?!?)......WEARING AN OBAMA T-SHIRT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!!!
I laughed. Not that it was funny, but it kind of was in an ironic, sick way. It just sucks that there are people that work really hard to support their candidates of choice and barely get the appreciation they deserve and James Bond gets spotted by some money-hungry paparazzi for a couple minutes, and thousands upon thousands of Americans have read and recognized that Bronson supports Obama.
As I read about 007's clothing of choice, I thought of my friend Paul, who has been sporting a pin on his jacket reading "Old White Woman For Obama". If only he were a celebrity. If only.
Monday, October 13, 2008
To Believe Or Not To Believe?
The craziness continues...
Election Day is extremely close now, and I am still so unsure of which choice is the 'right' one. As if there was a 'right' choice.
I am reminded constantly of my hatred of politics as I type in various different key words in Google's search box. There are thousands of links one click away, and each of them are packed with information that is supposedly going to either pump me up with stuff I totally agree with or potentially open my eyes to some colossal truth that is a must-know to the masses before Election Day occurs.
I find myself reading a plethora of material, but none of it is necessarily up-building or positive. From slams on McCain's haughtiness to websites that aim to convince everyone that Obama holds ties to communism and terrorism...
How on Earth do I decide what believe? How are we, the citizens, supposed to select a leader when we are bottle-fed more crap about both of our finishing candidates than any one country should ever be forced to take?
I listen to people talk about what they hear on the news, or what they read or see on the internet, and they talk amongst themselves as if they are well-educated on what they are talking about. Depends on your opinion of well-educated I suppose. If well-educated is pumped full of baloney to the point where you know it inside and out, then I suppose there are a lot of well-educated voters out there.
Again, I must ask for forgiveness for my lack of faith in this country's government.
I argued with a friend the other night. He was ranting about the whole "Obama's ties to Communism" issue and seemed completely certain that it was all true. I questioned his trust, and he responded with, "If you don't believe me, look it up!" And so I did. I am still unconvinced. What is it exactly that legitimatizes information to be true? Is it the amount of websites that all proclaim the same thing? Is it the source of the information? Is it how many people actually believe it?
Unfortunately, we all do have to pick and choose what we will beleive and then base our ever-so-important vote based on that select information. Isn't it too bad that we can't get to know each of our Presidentail Candidates on a personal level before we cast our vote to either one? Or perhaps that is a bad idea, because then we would realize that they are human beings that make mistakes, thus unfit for office?
And so here I am, still sitting on the fence. It seems that no matter which side I chose, I'll still be in over my head in hogwash. And nobody likes to be in over their head in hogwash.
Election Day is extremely close now, and I am still so unsure of which choice is the 'right' one. As if there was a 'right' choice.
I am reminded constantly of my hatred of politics as I type in various different key words in Google's search box. There are thousands of links one click away, and each of them are packed with information that is supposedly going to either pump me up with stuff I totally agree with or potentially open my eyes to some colossal truth that is a must-know to the masses before Election Day occurs.
I find myself reading a plethora of material, but none of it is necessarily up-building or positive. From slams on McCain's haughtiness to websites that aim to convince everyone that Obama holds ties to communism and terrorism...
How on Earth do I decide what believe? How are we, the citizens, supposed to select a leader when we are bottle-fed more crap about both of our finishing candidates than any one country should ever be forced to take?
I listen to people talk about what they hear on the news, or what they read or see on the internet, and they talk amongst themselves as if they are well-educated on what they are talking about. Depends on your opinion of well-educated I suppose. If well-educated is pumped full of baloney to the point where you know it inside and out, then I suppose there are a lot of well-educated voters out there.
Again, I must ask for forgiveness for my lack of faith in this country's government.
I argued with a friend the other night. He was ranting about the whole "Obama's ties to Communism" issue and seemed completely certain that it was all true. I questioned his trust, and he responded with, "If you don't believe me, look it up!" And so I did. I am still unconvinced. What is it exactly that legitimatizes information to be true? Is it the amount of websites that all proclaim the same thing? Is it the source of the information? Is it how many people actually believe it?
Unfortunately, we all do have to pick and choose what we will beleive and then base our ever-so-important vote based on that select information. Isn't it too bad that we can't get to know each of our Presidentail Candidates on a personal level before we cast our vote to either one? Or perhaps that is a bad idea, because then we would realize that they are human beings that make mistakes, thus unfit for office?
And so here I am, still sitting on the fence. It seems that no matter which side I chose, I'll still be in over my head in hogwash. And nobody likes to be in over their head in hogwash.
Monday, October 6, 2008
A Dying Government?
I am not big on politics.
They stress me out, if anything. I find that my mind is much healthier without being polluted with the nonsense that our country's politicians throw around. There was a point in time I actually showed a bit of interest in the scene, and that was when I had just turned 18 and could vote. I still didn't understand a lot, and I mostly let people talk me into the way I viewed politics. Letting someone talk you into the way you feel about something is never a good idea. But that is what happens sometimes when you are young and naive.
Election Day is mere weeks away, and everyone around me is getting hyped up and excited about it.
Bellingham, Washington is a very liberal city full of Western Washington University's students that are young, full of opinions, and very active. Being submerged in such an atmosphere has compelled me to do something that I never thought would happen: Care about the U.S. government.
This election is going to decide how the country of my occupancy will be ran during some of the most vital years of my life. I began to think about all the things that a president has the capacity to change. It's a crazy position to fill, and everyone knows that half the promises that the president-to-be makes in the presidential debates will never be fulfilled... but why not at least attempt to get someone in office who appears to give more of a crap than the rest?
The lack of faith I have in this country is pathetic. It doesn't help that I have spent a quarter of a year in Sweden and seeing that all the citizens get free college, and have health care benefits. Those are two major things that I would love to have right now.
If I was to get sick right now, I would be completely screwed. I would have to starve myself for a while and use food money to even be able to afford a walk-in clinic visit. If I want to go back to school anytime soon, I will have to work full time somehow to manage paying all my bills, rent, and tuition. Not to mention the price of books these days. Sure, there is financial aid, but that doesn't help me much. They portion out financial aid according to your parents' income until you are 24 years old. Do they assume that all parents that can afford it help their kids out when it comes time to pay for college? Because mine definitely do not. The thought of having to work full time and go to class and have hours of homework sounds like hell, not to mention a recipe for depression. No time for rest, no time for social activities, and barely time to study. Shouldn't a country want it's young citizens to be educated? Are the elders forgetting that we will be the ones in charge one day? I feel like education should be a lot more accessible and convenient than it is, and I am sure millions agree with me. A happy and well rested student is probably more likely to succeed in the end than a stressed out, strapped-for-time-and-money student.
Also, the next president is going to shape and prep this country for whatever it will become for my generations' children. I have always wanted a family, and I absolutely love kids, but I might change my mind. The future of my possible offspring is in the hands of whatever baboon that takes the chair. If I were at the point right now in my life where I would be able to contemplate reproducing, I really think that it would be almost selfish to bring a child into the world the way it is now. Just another way of realizing that big changes need to happen NOW.
About a week and a half ago, I looked up and read over a series of debates and attempted to form an opinion of my own about anything at all. Unfortunately, I was not convinced of anything. Neither of our two leading candidates has me feeling like they are going to pull this country out of the deep hole it is in.
I work with a few activists that seem to have a lot more hope for this country's future than I do, and that helps a lot with keeping my interest and keeping my own hope alive. So thank you, work mates... you guys give me hope that maybe this country has a few smart people in it, and it is people like you that I would love to see take over the leadership in this country. I was at the point where I felt that my opinion, and my vote, didn't really matter in the scheme of things. But maybe it just takes more than a half-hearted vote to really make a difference. I am beginning to see that. I hope that more young people that hate politics have their interest sparked by amazing people that are really out there to put the people first.
Here's to the people that care, and are willing to put up a fight to keep and better the rights that we have as citizens of the United States. You have truly impacted me. Thank you.
They stress me out, if anything. I find that my mind is much healthier without being polluted with the nonsense that our country's politicians throw around. There was a point in time I actually showed a bit of interest in the scene, and that was when I had just turned 18 and could vote. I still didn't understand a lot, and I mostly let people talk me into the way I viewed politics. Letting someone talk you into the way you feel about something is never a good idea. But that is what happens sometimes when you are young and naive.
Election Day is mere weeks away, and everyone around me is getting hyped up and excited about it.
Bellingham, Washington is a very liberal city full of Western Washington University's students that are young, full of opinions, and very active. Being submerged in such an atmosphere has compelled me to do something that I never thought would happen: Care about the U.S. government.
This election is going to decide how the country of my occupancy will be ran during some of the most vital years of my life. I began to think about all the things that a president has the capacity to change. It's a crazy position to fill, and everyone knows that half the promises that the president-to-be makes in the presidential debates will never be fulfilled... but why not at least attempt to get someone in office who appears to give more of a crap than the rest?
The lack of faith I have in this country is pathetic. It doesn't help that I have spent a quarter of a year in Sweden and seeing that all the citizens get free college, and have health care benefits. Those are two major things that I would love to have right now.
If I was to get sick right now, I would be completely screwed. I would have to starve myself for a while and use food money to even be able to afford a walk-in clinic visit. If I want to go back to school anytime soon, I will have to work full time somehow to manage paying all my bills, rent, and tuition. Not to mention the price of books these days. Sure, there is financial aid, but that doesn't help me much. They portion out financial aid according to your parents' income until you are 24 years old. Do they assume that all parents that can afford it help their kids out when it comes time to pay for college? Because mine definitely do not. The thought of having to work full time and go to class and have hours of homework sounds like hell, not to mention a recipe for depression. No time for rest, no time for social activities, and barely time to study. Shouldn't a country want it's young citizens to be educated? Are the elders forgetting that we will be the ones in charge one day? I feel like education should be a lot more accessible and convenient than it is, and I am sure millions agree with me. A happy and well rested student is probably more likely to succeed in the end than a stressed out, strapped-for-time-and-money student.
Also, the next president is going to shape and prep this country for whatever it will become for my generations' children. I have always wanted a family, and I absolutely love kids, but I might change my mind. The future of my possible offspring is in the hands of whatever baboon that takes the chair. If I were at the point right now in my life where I would be able to contemplate reproducing, I really think that it would be almost selfish to bring a child into the world the way it is now. Just another way of realizing that big changes need to happen NOW.
About a week and a half ago, I looked up and read over a series of debates and attempted to form an opinion of my own about anything at all. Unfortunately, I was not convinced of anything. Neither of our two leading candidates has me feeling like they are going to pull this country out of the deep hole it is in.
I work with a few activists that seem to have a lot more hope for this country's future than I do, and that helps a lot with keeping my interest and keeping my own hope alive. So thank you, work mates... you guys give me hope that maybe this country has a few smart people in it, and it is people like you that I would love to see take over the leadership in this country. I was at the point where I felt that my opinion, and my vote, didn't really matter in the scheme of things. But maybe it just takes more than a half-hearted vote to really make a difference. I am beginning to see that. I hope that more young people that hate politics have their interest sparked by amazing people that are really out there to put the people first.
Here's to the people that care, and are willing to put up a fight to keep and better the rights that we have as citizens of the United States. You have truly impacted me. Thank you.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
I'm 22, Don't Know What I'm Supposed To Do
This is the age of indecision.
I have settled myself into the swing of Bellingham life already. I am back at both my jobs, mostly moved in to my new house, and doing all the same things I was before. It feels like nothing skipped a beat while I was away. Except my heart, of course. That skipped many beats while I was away. The reasons why are confidential, however. Sorry!
And so, now that I am home, it is time for me to face a dilemma that so many people around my age come to face. What the heck am I going to do with my life now?
I need a plan, and I have a few options.
- Save money and go back to school either winter or spring quarter
- Use my saved money on recording equipment and focus on my acoustic music.
- Find a way to move to Sweden to focus on Pretty in Punk and get the experience of living somewhere else in the world.
- Move to California and gain a year of residency there so I can avoid paying out of state tuition at the University of my choice.
All these ideas sound good. Now for choosing one and executing it. Not so easy.
For now, the extent of my planning is SAVE MONEY. Who knows what happens after that?
I have settled myself into the swing of Bellingham life already. I am back at both my jobs, mostly moved in to my new house, and doing all the same things I was before. It feels like nothing skipped a beat while I was away. Except my heart, of course. That skipped many beats while I was away. The reasons why are confidential, however. Sorry!
And so, now that I am home, it is time for me to face a dilemma that so many people around my age come to face. What the heck am I going to do with my life now?
I need a plan, and I have a few options.
- Save money and go back to school either winter or spring quarter
- Use my saved money on recording equipment and focus on my acoustic music.
- Find a way to move to Sweden to focus on Pretty in Punk and get the experience of living somewhere else in the world.
- Move to California and gain a year of residency there so I can avoid paying out of state tuition at the University of my choice.
All these ideas sound good. Now for choosing one and executing it. Not so easy.
For now, the extent of my planning is SAVE MONEY. Who knows what happens after that?
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Heißen Sie willkommen nach Deutschland!
To my audience:
I know you have all been worried sick about me, wondering if I ever did get a hold of STA Travel’s Customer Service and found a replacement flight.
Well, you can relax, because I have made it home safely, but I wouldn’t be too disappointed if you felt a bit sorry for me because my new travel accommodations were extremely worse than my old ones.
My original flight was supposed to leave at 11 a.m. from Stockholm’s Arlanda Airport, land in Philadelphia 8 or so hours later, from which I was to take a second plane that would land in Seattle 5 hours after takeoff. So the original trip would have taken around 18 hours altogether including driving to and from airports and waiting at the airports in between. That was bad enough. The replacement plan was much worse. I had to fly from Stockholm at 6:30 a.m., land in Frankfurt, Germany and wait there for 4 hours, then take another plan to Philadelphia, where I waited for an hour and a half, and then get on a third plane that took me to Seattle where I waited for an hour for my friends to pick me up. The overall trip was almost 29 hours long. It absolutely sucked. I would never wish this situation on anyone ever.
How do I figure? Well, you know how I love to lay out the details, so hang on tight because I am going to recap the whole thing to you.
My last night in Sweden was awful. Marcus and I slept on the sofa in his parents’ house because all the beds were occupied. I had a very hard time falling asleep for many reasons. 1) I was very upset that I was leaving very soon and didn’t want to waste my last few hours in Sweden sleeping. 2) My back was hurting very bad from sleeping on horrible surfaces and sofas are not the best for supporting back issues. 3) The sofa was too small and I was hanging off the edge. The point is, I had a terrible shallow sleep that lasted three hours if that, so I was the opposite of well rested when I embarked on my return home.
Marcus’ father woke us up at 4 a.m., and we were on the road at 4:30. That is when I start the timer. We arrived at the airport at 5. I was feeling sick from my lack of sleep, the dread of the journey, and reluctance to say goodbye to my best friend.
Marcus stood with me in line and made sure I understood my travel instructions and got my bag checked in okay. I felt really numb at this point, mostly because I was too exhausted to think straight, and everything just felt like a bad dream. Marcus was very groggy and delirious as well, and I feel like our goodbye was very bland. I feel like it should have been much more dramatic and emotional, but it wasn’t. It was “Bye, I love you, see you someday in the future”. Then he was gone. The instant he was out of sight, reality hit me like a wrecking ball and it was as if my eyes were dams that exploded, and the lakes they held crashed into the land around them. I didn’t have the capacity in my mind to deal with the pain I felt then, and I didn’t care that I probably looked like a fool standing all alone in an airport with streams of liquid anguish pouring down my cheeks. After all the goodbyes I had said throughout the last few days of my stay in Sweden, I realized that this was the final goodbye. The boring, insignificant goodbye that marked the end of a momentous time in my life.
I had a middle seat on the first plane. I sat in between two elderly gentlemen that didn’t even glace my way. It was a miserable couple of hours. I tried my best to sleep, but I am not very good at getting comfortable when in a sitting position.
Upon landing in Germany, I had four hours to waste before I could check into my gate to board the second flight. The Frankfurt airport was a royal pain in the behind to find my way around. The security check points were absolutely anal and there were many of them. It was way worse than the American airports. I became very good about pulling my belt off and ripping my laptop out of my backpack, though. Not something I really wanted to invest time into getting good at, but I didn’t really have a choice in this matter. I spent at least an hour finding my gate. I had to climb stairs and take a sky train to a separate terminal and climb down stairs and go through several security checkpoints before I made it to my gate. I arrived to my gate too early though and I was not allowed to go sit in the gate area until it was my official boarding time. That was annoying. I was very tired and grumpy, and all I wanted was to curl up in a ball on the floor and sleep.
So then I had about three hours to waste. I had my laptop with me, but it only had 12% battery life remaining. I had a European plug for my laptop, and so I searched the airport for an outlet, and I found two. Both of them were in use. So I walked in circles for a while, sat in a chair and listened to music, and wrote in my notebook. I was generally unhappy about all of it.
I was so happy to get on that second plane where I knew that at least I could relax and have a blanket for at least a little over eight hours. This was the least horrible out of the three flights. I attempted to position myself in a semi-comfortable fashion so I could nap a bit. I achieved something tolerable and took a nap. I woke up with a trail of crusty drool down the side of my face and a wet spot on the pillow I had my head on. My nose was stuffy and my throat hurt.
I managed to stir up a little small talk with the man sitting next to me on this flight. He was polite, and I was glad about that. I feel like unsocial and rude people are abundant on planes for some reason. He was actually interested to talk to. He told me that he is in the U.S. military and he drove trucks down in Iraq. He lives in Germany now with his Romanian wife and two very small sons. The conversation stayed fairly shallow until towards the end of the flight. The flight attendants passed out U.S. Customs documents that needed to be filled out, and I glanced over at his and noticed that his last name was “Riddick”. I pointed and said quite loudly, “No way!” He laughed and said he got that reaction a lot. After that, we fired up our personalities and started talking like we were old friends catching up. I learned a lot about Mr. Riddick. He likes peanut butter on his pancakes and his wife has tons of shoes that she stores in suitcases. He was really excited to eat American pizza because he hates the way Europeans make their pizza. He is from North Carolina and was on his way back to visit there.
It was nice to have someone to talk to. Someone like me does not do well keeping quiet for too long. It was also very nice to have someone to talk to while going through the annoying procedure of re-entering the United States and having to go through U.S. Customs and Border Patrol and having to re-check in all the luggage and have to go through the whole airport security crap for the millionth time.
Once I was in the U.S., something switched in my brain and I could feel that I was no longer in Europe, not only geographically, but also mentally. I hated that. The last flight was the worst. I wanted nothing more than to be held like a child and comforted because I felt so lonely and so lost.
I sat in a row of three seats on this plane, the seat in the middle was empty, I sat next the aisle, and a man sat next to the window. It was nice to have the middle seat empty so I could lean over and try to situate myself in a little more comfortable way than the previous positions I had tried. This is the flight where all my emotions came crashing down on me. I had my headphones on and I began to write things in my notebook. This is what was written:
Time is a demon
Impossible to out run
Every minute is a bullet
Every mile is a gun
The growing distance is the trigger
This plane a shaking finger
As the space between grows bigger
The deepest sadness lingers
Place I love left behind
To return to my
Reoccurring nightmares
When asked, I denied
When denied, I lied
I attached my heartstrings
To where we slept
As the plane flies, I am unraveling
Hold tight to the piece of your heart I’ve always kept
And also…
The moment you were out of sight, I caved in. Everything became blurry. How will I sleep tonight, how will I live? All this time spent piecing myself together, just to fall apart. Is it possible to rebuild a broken heart? Sweet country of my destiny, reveal yourself to me. I don’t want to remain hollow. Will fate ever intervene? The reality now is like poison and I will not swallow, but you don’t speak the same language emotionally as me and you don’t get what I mean. Perhaps I am much too foreign and you will never comprehend what it means when I walk your streets and sail your seas. What I mean when I sleep in your beds and hold your hands and press my body against your land. What I say when I sing on your stages and what I hear when I listen to your bands. What I feel when I dance on your floors and sit on your shores. I can never be satisfied, I’ll always need more. Wait for me, Sweden. I’m coming back to you. It won’t be long till then. Please stay true.
Landing in Seattle was relieving in a way because I knew that my aloneness would be extinguished by the friends that were meeting me there, and I was not disappointed. I encountered a pretty girl named Brianna running toward me like a crazy person, and I welcomed the sight with open arms. Not but a few feet behind her were my friends Paul and Grant. I was home at last.
It’s been a few days now, and so much has happened since my return. As much as I am glad to be home and in the arms of so many people that I love that love me here, I have left half of my heart in some little country across the ocean. It is ever so inconvenient to try to function as half a person, but for the time being, there is nothing I can do.
Hello, America. It’s been a while. Farewell, dear Sweden. I love you deeply and will return one day.
Already I have so many exciting things to document about my first days home, but that is material for another blog at another time.
I am ending this entry with suspense in the air. Be excited. Because I am exciting. .
I know you have all been worried sick about me, wondering if I ever did get a hold of STA Travel’s Customer Service and found a replacement flight.
Well, you can relax, because I have made it home safely, but I wouldn’t be too disappointed if you felt a bit sorry for me because my new travel accommodations were extremely worse than my old ones.
My original flight was supposed to leave at 11 a.m. from Stockholm’s Arlanda Airport, land in Philadelphia 8 or so hours later, from which I was to take a second plane that would land in Seattle 5 hours after takeoff. So the original trip would have taken around 18 hours altogether including driving to and from airports and waiting at the airports in between. That was bad enough. The replacement plan was much worse. I had to fly from Stockholm at 6:30 a.m., land in Frankfurt, Germany and wait there for 4 hours, then take another plan to Philadelphia, where I waited for an hour and a half, and then get on a third plane that took me to Seattle where I waited for an hour for my friends to pick me up. The overall trip was almost 29 hours long. It absolutely sucked. I would never wish this situation on anyone ever.
How do I figure? Well, you know how I love to lay out the details, so hang on tight because I am going to recap the whole thing to you.
My last night in Sweden was awful. Marcus and I slept on the sofa in his parents’ house because all the beds were occupied. I had a very hard time falling asleep for many reasons. 1) I was very upset that I was leaving very soon and didn’t want to waste my last few hours in Sweden sleeping. 2) My back was hurting very bad from sleeping on horrible surfaces and sofas are not the best for supporting back issues. 3) The sofa was too small and I was hanging off the edge. The point is, I had a terrible shallow sleep that lasted three hours if that, so I was the opposite of well rested when I embarked on my return home.
Marcus’ father woke us up at 4 a.m., and we were on the road at 4:30. That is when I start the timer. We arrived at the airport at 5. I was feeling sick from my lack of sleep, the dread of the journey, and reluctance to say goodbye to my best friend.
Marcus stood with me in line and made sure I understood my travel instructions and got my bag checked in okay. I felt really numb at this point, mostly because I was too exhausted to think straight, and everything just felt like a bad dream. Marcus was very groggy and delirious as well, and I feel like our goodbye was very bland. I feel like it should have been much more dramatic and emotional, but it wasn’t. It was “Bye, I love you, see you someday in the future”. Then he was gone. The instant he was out of sight, reality hit me like a wrecking ball and it was as if my eyes were dams that exploded, and the lakes they held crashed into the land around them. I didn’t have the capacity in my mind to deal with the pain I felt then, and I didn’t care that I probably looked like a fool standing all alone in an airport with streams of liquid anguish pouring down my cheeks. After all the goodbyes I had said throughout the last few days of my stay in Sweden, I realized that this was the final goodbye. The boring, insignificant goodbye that marked the end of a momentous time in my life.
I had a middle seat on the first plane. I sat in between two elderly gentlemen that didn’t even glace my way. It was a miserable couple of hours. I tried my best to sleep, but I am not very good at getting comfortable when in a sitting position.
Upon landing in Germany, I had four hours to waste before I could check into my gate to board the second flight. The Frankfurt airport was a royal pain in the behind to find my way around. The security check points were absolutely anal and there were many of them. It was way worse than the American airports. I became very good about pulling my belt off and ripping my laptop out of my backpack, though. Not something I really wanted to invest time into getting good at, but I didn’t really have a choice in this matter. I spent at least an hour finding my gate. I had to climb stairs and take a sky train to a separate terminal and climb down stairs and go through several security checkpoints before I made it to my gate. I arrived to my gate too early though and I was not allowed to go sit in the gate area until it was my official boarding time. That was annoying. I was very tired and grumpy, and all I wanted was to curl up in a ball on the floor and sleep.
So then I had about three hours to waste. I had my laptop with me, but it only had 12% battery life remaining. I had a European plug for my laptop, and so I searched the airport for an outlet, and I found two. Both of them were in use. So I walked in circles for a while, sat in a chair and listened to music, and wrote in my notebook. I was generally unhappy about all of it.
I was so happy to get on that second plane where I knew that at least I could relax and have a blanket for at least a little over eight hours. This was the least horrible out of the three flights. I attempted to position myself in a semi-comfortable fashion so I could nap a bit. I achieved something tolerable and took a nap. I woke up with a trail of crusty drool down the side of my face and a wet spot on the pillow I had my head on. My nose was stuffy and my throat hurt.
I managed to stir up a little small talk with the man sitting next to me on this flight. He was polite, and I was glad about that. I feel like unsocial and rude people are abundant on planes for some reason. He was actually interested to talk to. He told me that he is in the U.S. military and he drove trucks down in Iraq. He lives in Germany now with his Romanian wife and two very small sons. The conversation stayed fairly shallow until towards the end of the flight. The flight attendants passed out U.S. Customs documents that needed to be filled out, and I glanced over at his and noticed that his last name was “Riddick”. I pointed and said quite loudly, “No way!” He laughed and said he got that reaction a lot. After that, we fired up our personalities and started talking like we were old friends catching up. I learned a lot about Mr. Riddick. He likes peanut butter on his pancakes and his wife has tons of shoes that she stores in suitcases. He was really excited to eat American pizza because he hates the way Europeans make their pizza. He is from North Carolina and was on his way back to visit there.
It was nice to have someone to talk to. Someone like me does not do well keeping quiet for too long. It was also very nice to have someone to talk to while going through the annoying procedure of re-entering the United States and having to go through U.S. Customs and Border Patrol and having to re-check in all the luggage and have to go through the whole airport security crap for the millionth time.
Once I was in the U.S., something switched in my brain and I could feel that I was no longer in Europe, not only geographically, but also mentally. I hated that. The last flight was the worst. I wanted nothing more than to be held like a child and comforted because I felt so lonely and so lost.
I sat in a row of three seats on this plane, the seat in the middle was empty, I sat next the aisle, and a man sat next to the window. It was nice to have the middle seat empty so I could lean over and try to situate myself in a little more comfortable way than the previous positions I had tried. This is the flight where all my emotions came crashing down on me. I had my headphones on and I began to write things in my notebook. This is what was written:
Time is a demon
Impossible to out run
Every minute is a bullet
Every mile is a gun
The growing distance is the trigger
This plane a shaking finger
As the space between grows bigger
The deepest sadness lingers
Place I love left behind
To return to my
Reoccurring nightmares
When asked, I denied
When denied, I lied
I attached my heartstrings
To where we slept
As the plane flies, I am unraveling
Hold tight to the piece of your heart I’ve always kept
And also…
The moment you were out of sight, I caved in. Everything became blurry. How will I sleep tonight, how will I live? All this time spent piecing myself together, just to fall apart. Is it possible to rebuild a broken heart? Sweet country of my destiny, reveal yourself to me. I don’t want to remain hollow. Will fate ever intervene? The reality now is like poison and I will not swallow, but you don’t speak the same language emotionally as me and you don’t get what I mean. Perhaps I am much too foreign and you will never comprehend what it means when I walk your streets and sail your seas. What I mean when I sleep in your beds and hold your hands and press my body against your land. What I say when I sing on your stages and what I hear when I listen to your bands. What I feel when I dance on your floors and sit on your shores. I can never be satisfied, I’ll always need more. Wait for me, Sweden. I’m coming back to you. It won’t be long till then. Please stay true.
Landing in Seattle was relieving in a way because I knew that my aloneness would be extinguished by the friends that were meeting me there, and I was not disappointed. I encountered a pretty girl named Brianna running toward me like a crazy person, and I welcomed the sight with open arms. Not but a few feet behind her were my friends Paul and Grant. I was home at last.
It’s been a few days now, and so much has happened since my return. As much as I am glad to be home and in the arms of so many people that I love that love me here, I have left half of my heart in some little country across the ocean. It is ever so inconvenient to try to function as half a person, but for the time being, there is nothing I can do.
Hello, America. It’s been a while. Farewell, dear Sweden. I love you deeply and will return one day.
Already I have so many exciting things to document about my first days home, but that is material for another blog at another time.
I am ending this entry with suspense in the air. Be excited. Because I am exciting. .
Monday, September 15, 2008
Ground Control to Major Dumbass
I am a planner.
I enjoy having a good solid plan that I can work all the nitty-gritty details out early on in the process. This allows me to be able to sit back and relax while events can unfold in the order in which they were supposed to, right?
...Wrong.
Last I checked, I did not make any room in my schedule for a flight cancellation, but it seems to have happened anyway. Thus affirming that a fool-proof plan is a figment of imagination and is not possible to create.
Perhaps this is irony, pulling a fast one on me. After all, I have been complaining about how much I do not want to leave Sweden for the past couple of weeks. Not to mention the mess I was yesterday, crying in the arms of my friend and telling him that I wish so badly that I could stay and live here in Sweden. Yeah, yeah... careful what you wish for, I know.
I received the unsatisfactory news about an hour ago via email. It said the following:
"PLEASE CONTACT STA AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AS YOUR RETURN FLIGHT HAS BEEN CANCELLED AND WE NEED TO DICUSS OPTIONS FOR REACCOMIDATION. PLEASE CALL AT 1-800-777-0112.
THANK YOU"
All in caps. For the record, if you just canceled a flight I spent half a year working to get the money to pay for, I don't want to feel like the email you send informing me of it is yelling at me. And on top of it, I feel like a travel booking agency should know how to spell the words "accommodation", "canceled", and "discuss".
Perhaps I am being one of those insufferably anal people by complaining about the email quality. I mean, it is just a job to whoever sent that email, and they probably don't give a crap how I feel about them using all caps. But it still really sucks to wake up to such crappy news. And perhaps I wouldn't be so upset if I only had the email to be upset about. But that is not all. Oh yes, there is more.
Immediately, I called the number given in the yelling email. I was greeted by the ever-so-friendly and over enthusiastic voice of a recording. "Thank you for calling STA Travel, your call is very important to us, blah blah blah. Now listen to this awesomely cheesy music we stole from a porn soundtrack and listen to the same three advertisements over and over again for the better half of an hour until we feel like talking to you."
Honestly, I kid you not when I say the better half of an hour. I sat there for a good ten or fifteen minutes before I decided that it was going to be a while. I sliced some cheese and tomato and made myself a sandwich for breakfast, I used the restroom, and I browsed around facebook for a while (because I'm cool like that). The recording played for so long, I began to recite along with the advertisements and predict every change in the music. Finally, the call went through and I got an answer.
You can imagine how relieved I was to hear the voice of the customer service representative, so you must realize how absolutely disappointed I was to find out that Customer Service was actually closed for the night and she was merely on night duty in case of emergency. It was ever so heart breaking.
And that leaves me in my present state. I am lying in bed, completely stressed out but utterly helpless. It is almost 10 in the morning here in Sweden, and almost 1 in Washington State. Customer service is not open for about six more hours.
I should get up soon and pack my bags and get everything ready to go, but I am in a bad mood and I don't feel like it at the moment. I must be on a bus that will take me to Stockholm at 5 this evening, so I don't feel like I need to start packing yet. So I shall lie here and fume for a while, then perhaps I can find it within myself to carry on with my duties.
I have no idea how I just composed such an elaborate portrayal of how awful my morning has been, but I suppose that is the power of being pissed off.
Until further notice, over and out Planet Earth.
I enjoy having a good solid plan that I can work all the nitty-gritty details out early on in the process. This allows me to be able to sit back and relax while events can unfold in the order in which they were supposed to, right?
...Wrong.
Last I checked, I did not make any room in my schedule for a flight cancellation, but it seems to have happened anyway. Thus affirming that a fool-proof plan is a figment of imagination and is not possible to create.
Perhaps this is irony, pulling a fast one on me. After all, I have been complaining about how much I do not want to leave Sweden for the past couple of weeks. Not to mention the mess I was yesterday, crying in the arms of my friend and telling him that I wish so badly that I could stay and live here in Sweden. Yeah, yeah... careful what you wish for, I know.
I received the unsatisfactory news about an hour ago via email. It said the following:
"PLEASE CONTACT STA AS SOON AS POSSIBLE AS YOUR RETURN FLIGHT HAS BEEN CANCELLED AND WE NEED TO DICUSS OPTIONS FOR REACCOMIDATION. PLEASE CALL AT 1-800-777-0112.
THANK YOU"
All in caps. For the record, if you just canceled a flight I spent half a year working to get the money to pay for, I don't want to feel like the email you send informing me of it is yelling at me. And on top of it, I feel like a travel booking agency should know how to spell the words "accommodation", "canceled", and "discuss".
Perhaps I am being one of those insufferably anal people by complaining about the email quality. I mean, it is just a job to whoever sent that email, and they probably don't give a crap how I feel about them using all caps. But it still really sucks to wake up to such crappy news. And perhaps I wouldn't be so upset if I only had the email to be upset about. But that is not all. Oh yes, there is more.
Immediately, I called the number given in the yelling email. I was greeted by the ever-so-friendly and over enthusiastic voice of a recording. "Thank you for calling STA Travel, your call is very important to us, blah blah blah. Now listen to this awesomely cheesy music we stole from a porn soundtrack and listen to the same three advertisements over and over again for the better half of an hour until we feel like talking to you."
Honestly, I kid you not when I say the better half of an hour. I sat there for a good ten or fifteen minutes before I decided that it was going to be a while. I sliced some cheese and tomato and made myself a sandwich for breakfast, I used the restroom, and I browsed around facebook for a while (because I'm cool like that). The recording played for so long, I began to recite along with the advertisements and predict every change in the music. Finally, the call went through and I got an answer.
You can imagine how relieved I was to hear the voice of the customer service representative, so you must realize how absolutely disappointed I was to find out that Customer Service was actually closed for the night and she was merely on night duty in case of emergency. It was ever so heart breaking.
And that leaves me in my present state. I am lying in bed, completely stressed out but utterly helpless. It is almost 10 in the morning here in Sweden, and almost 1 in Washington State. Customer service is not open for about six more hours.
I should get up soon and pack my bags and get everything ready to go, but I am in a bad mood and I don't feel like it at the moment. I must be on a bus that will take me to Stockholm at 5 this evening, so I don't feel like I need to start packing yet. So I shall lie here and fume for a while, then perhaps I can find it within myself to carry on with my duties.
I have no idea how I just composed such an elaborate portrayal of how awful my morning has been, but I suppose that is the power of being pissed off.
Until further notice, over and out Planet Earth.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
The Final Countdown
I am currently staying with my best friend in the whole wide world, Marcus Stenbeck, at the university he attends in Norrköping, Sweden. I accompanied him to a fancy themed dinner tonight where we proceeded to partake in a very traditional Swedish dinner called "Pea Soup and Punch". Pea Soup is self explanatory, and punch is a sweet hard liqueur that is served along side the soup. I don't much like peas, so my bowl of soup remained fairly full throughout the dinner. The punch, however, I could deal with. It tasted like a very sugary version of tequila. And those who know me know I love my tequila. Perhaps a little too much.
Anyhow... moving on.
I do believe I mentioned something about choreographing 'The Final Countdown'. Well, I did a pretty dang good job of it. I am hoping that I will get it on video so I can post it here for the world wide web to witness. Marcus and I became a dance team and did our best to dazzle our slightly intoxicated Swedish student audience with our sexy movements. It was absolutely brilliant, if I may say so myself. Marcus and I tried hard to capture the crazy dramatic dance moves of the 80's. That can be extremely tough sometimes. Take it from me, folks.
Oh yeah, did I mention we looked downright drop dead gorgeous?
I have been bouncing around emotionally all night. I am feeling the pressure of leaving already. I feel like this is my last weekend in Sweden, so I need to make the most of it. At the same time, I am doing that thing that many girls are experts at, which is sulking. I have found myself to be acting quite sober and even grumpy a few times tonight because I am upset that there are only a few days left of my wild Swedish adventure.
At the dinner tonight, every table was provided with some markers that were meant for writing or drawing on the paper table cloth underneath our dinnerware. I had a moment of sadness in the midst of all the partying, and decided to write my feelings out onto the tablecloth. Before I left the dinner party, I managed to tear out the piece of tablecloth that I had written on, and now I am going to share what I wrote on it.
My time has arrived.
The sound of laughter filters through my ears and becomes the sound of terrifying screams in my tortured skull.
Glasses full of cheer, chink together in celebration of my worst fears becoming real.
Fill my goblet with poison and I will disappear from this dreadful scene, I will forget your face and the places I've been.
Fading away, it has come to this.
Death poses an offer I cannot resist.
I cannot live in that town.
This truly is the Final Countdown.
There was a really awesome after-party that I went to post-dinner, and I enjoyed myself almost the whole time. There was one point where I accidentally approached someone I thought I knew that looked extremely like someone I knew, but was definitely NOT someone I knew at all. It would have been fine if I realized this before making a very friendly physical gesture, but I did not. Very unfortunate for me. I think most people can relate to that feeling. And also the feeling right after realizing what you have done, then trying to play it off cool, pretending like you really do know that person, and they are the idiot for not recognizing you.
All in all, it has been a good night. It is almost two in the morning, and I have been sipping on various alcoholic drinks since 7 p.m., so I shall apologize in advance for any errors.
I am still struggling with negative feelings because I know my eyes are going to create a flood when I have to leave on Wednesday morning. It is in my personality to anticipate things way too soon.
Dang it, I am sulking again.
Anyhow... moving on.
I do believe I mentioned something about choreographing 'The Final Countdown'. Well, I did a pretty dang good job of it. I am hoping that I will get it on video so I can post it here for the world wide web to witness. Marcus and I became a dance team and did our best to dazzle our slightly intoxicated Swedish student audience with our sexy movements. It was absolutely brilliant, if I may say so myself. Marcus and I tried hard to capture the crazy dramatic dance moves of the 80's. That can be extremely tough sometimes. Take it from me, folks.
Oh yeah, did I mention we looked downright drop dead gorgeous?
I have been bouncing around emotionally all night. I am feeling the pressure of leaving already. I feel like this is my last weekend in Sweden, so I need to make the most of it. At the same time, I am doing that thing that many girls are experts at, which is sulking. I have found myself to be acting quite sober and even grumpy a few times tonight because I am upset that there are only a few days left of my wild Swedish adventure.
At the dinner tonight, every table was provided with some markers that were meant for writing or drawing on the paper table cloth underneath our dinnerware. I had a moment of sadness in the midst of all the partying, and decided to write my feelings out onto the tablecloth. Before I left the dinner party, I managed to tear out the piece of tablecloth that I had written on, and now I am going to share what I wrote on it.
My time has arrived.
The sound of laughter filters through my ears and becomes the sound of terrifying screams in my tortured skull.
Glasses full of cheer, chink together in celebration of my worst fears becoming real.
Fill my goblet with poison and I will disappear from this dreadful scene, I will forget your face and the places I've been.
Fading away, it has come to this.
Death poses an offer I cannot resist.
I cannot live in that town.
This truly is the Final Countdown.
There was a really awesome after-party that I went to post-dinner, and I enjoyed myself almost the whole time. There was one point where I accidentally approached someone I thought I knew that looked extremely like someone I knew, but was definitely NOT someone I knew at all. It would have been fine if I realized this before making a very friendly physical gesture, but I did not. Very unfortunate for me. I think most people can relate to that feeling. And also the feeling right after realizing what you have done, then trying to play it off cool, pretending like you really do know that person, and they are the idiot for not recognizing you.
All in all, it has been a good night. It is almost two in the morning, and I have been sipping on various alcoholic drinks since 7 p.m., so I shall apologize in advance for any errors.
I am still struggling with negative feelings because I know my eyes are going to create a flood when I have to leave on Wednesday morning. It is in my personality to anticipate things way too soon.
Dang it, I am sulking again.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Alien Princess
So today, I got really bored.
I choreographed some moves to Europe's "Final Countdown".
Then I decided to make myself what I called an "Alien Princess". Inspired by David Bowie, I disappeared into the bathroom and transformed...
....Into this...
Being me is way too much fun sometimes. By too much, I mean an unhealthy amount.
I choreographed some moves to Europe's "Final Countdown".
Then I decided to make myself what I called an "Alien Princess". Inspired by David Bowie, I disappeared into the bathroom and transformed...
....Into this...
Being me is way too much fun sometimes. By too much, I mean an unhealthy amount.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
The Taking of My Blogger Virginity
This very sentence I am typing right in this very moment with my very hands marks the end of my Blogging Virginity.
Exciting? Well, not in as much of a sexual sense as I wish it was. But, it is a sort of a mood enhancer. So far so good.
Moving on…
I am currently enjoying my last week of being halfway across the world from my current home, in
It is a strange feeling to behold, being away from home for this long. I don’t really miss being there as much as I feel I am expected to, but I suppose I shouldn’t feel like there is a level of appropriate or inappropriate amount of missing I should have towards my hometown. That’s just silly.
Last year, it was hard to leave here after just a month. This year, it feels like I am truly leaving a piece of myself here. Because of this treacherous dread of leaving this place, I know it will not be too long before I return.
I got to meet up with the people I grew fond of last year, including the Stenbeck Family, Jovva, Charlie, Victor, Ante, Pelle, Blom, Johan, and of course Martin and his family. This year, I have so many new awesome people to add to that list… Jonas, Mike, Mikael, The whole Karlstad Gang, Anders, Henrik, Teodor, the cool kids in
I will miss all of you…
I have had many amazing experiences here in
- I got to play an awesome show with my beloved band, Pretty in Punk, at
- I got to go wakeboarding with Jovva, Charlie, and Simon at Vaxholm’s water ski club.
- I saw “The Dark Knight” in one of
- I drove a minivan full of punk rockers, music equipment, loud music, and beer.
- I engorged myself with certain food items I cannot obtain in the states such as Marabou Mjölkchoklad, Kex Choklad, Cheez Ballz, and all sorts of really good cheese.
- I was forced to play Wii Mariokart… and I am now a lover of it.
- I became addicted to Dr. Mario.
- A very large toad peed on my hands. It’s a long story. Long and wet.
- I picked up a giant grasshopper and it attacked Jovva.
- I went with Marmar to his parents’ summer house and built an amazing fort for his adorable toddler niece and nephew.
- I made a birthday cake for a special dude that turned 24 this year.
- I attended Frasses Fixar Fest and made an absolute fool of myself. The best kind of fool, of course. The kind that you point and laugh at.
- I built a beer bong while in
- Martin and I played in a studio and he recorded one of my acoustic piano songs, and he turned it into a Disney-like production. So awesome.
- I watched Neverstore and Millencolin at Gröna Lund with Marcus, Carin, Anders, Charlie, Victor, and Simon.
- I went on a date with Marmar to Garlic and Shots (a bar) in
That is all I can think of in this moment… but that is only a small chunk of the massive amount of adventures I have been partaking in while here in
I do have a week left. The opportunities for awesomeness to occur are bountiful. I am sure I will have many things to add to that list before my time is up.
Stay tuned. This is the first of many entries to come. Entries that will unveil your eyes to the chaos that is the life of Bridgett M. Fox.
(Parental guidance suggested.)
Before ending this session, I would like to take a moment to thank Martin, whose fault it is that I am blogging. Every time we talk, he always has something to share with me that he learned while reading someone’s blog. He has many different blogs he checks up on from time to time, and I have found that it is not without reason. People are interesting. In some strange way, I feel like pinning my thoughts to the internet, and reading the thoughts of others, make me feel like I am more of this sticky web called humanity. I am not a shy person, and it is time I become involved.
So now, officially, I am so involved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
