Mildly Independent.

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I like to consider myself mildly independent. I can handle things on my own and know when to call for help. I can check my oil, can take the car in when it needs oil, I can fill a mildly low tire with air. I can do things for myself. It’s what being an adult is right? That’s what I’ve heard at least. Isn’t being an adult completely overrated? Like one day, I’m just enjoying some Disney VHSs and a juice box and the next day I’m deciding how much to pay back on my student loan and planning to travel half way across the world by myself. And let’s be honest, that has been my life. I do watch Disney VHSs and drink juice boxes and I am paying back my student loans and traveling by myself. And a person is never to old to enjoy a nice refreshing juice box. If there hasn’t been one invented, someone should invent little boxed alcohol. I know there’s boxed wine but seriously, other alcohol in travel size. I’m not an alcoholic. It’s just a thought. And talking about adult things, being married came up again the other night at work. Now, I’m single. I’m okay with that at this point because I have a lot going on. Ask me again in like 2 months, my opinion might change. But honestly, this is like the fourth time this, and by “this” I mean marriage, has come up at work in the past 2 months. Yeah, overkill on the subject? Yes. That averages a marriage bring up every 2 weeks. Who says I’m adult enough for marriage? Not me, most the time I’m kind of like a 5-year-old at home. Didn’t you just read about my juice box and Disney binges? My sarcasm sometimes suggests other ages. So in all honesty, my age is up for debate.

Anyway, last night, I get off of work at like 9:30 and I’m pumped to be leaving work that early and so I walk out to my car, turn it on, make sure my music isn’t to loud to wake the dead and I pull away. Almost immediately I know I have a flat tire. And not just a flat tire that can be fixed with a little air, a majorly flat tire that would demand me to put a lot of air in it. I know that I live in a small town, with not so many options, I call my parents. There’s a reason for me not just filling the tire. I know it needs to fixed and because I don’t know how to change a tire. This is the second time that this has happened since I moved home so I called mom and dad and told them what was going on and where I was parked. So okay, they’re on their way to help me. Now I was expecting my mom to pop in with the car to help me. Nope, it was my daddy with the pickum-up-truck. Or the pickup, which ever you want to call it. And he changes my tire. Not only do my father and I share a sense of humor, he comes and saves the day by changing my tire. And to top it all off, it started to rain, making life that more dramatic. Because let’s face it, rain makes things dramatic. Even if it is just a sprinkle.

I know that there is nothing wrong with asking for help and not everyone knows how to change a tire, but in a weird way it feels like my mild independence is gone. I have survived out of my parents’ house for almost 8 years and then I need help with getting a tire off and replace it. Even though, I live in a very small town, I should have figured out a different solution or figured out how to change it myself….but my mommy and daddy like me…..

So this morning I dyed Easter eggs. Pretty excited about that. For no reason because most of those eggs are going into a potato salad my mother has all ready made. So there was no joy other than spending time with the niece and nephew this morning in this. No cracking the shell or anything. Disappointing. The other day my nephew was here and was going to leave. I asked for a hug. “Yeah, first Grandpa, then Grandma and then you. Save the best for last.” If only I could love that child a little more. I also came to the conclusion that even though I love the niece to bits, she is a loud child. Like you can’t hear yourself think when she’s in the vicinity. Did not get that from my side of the family. Those kids do keep me young. Maybe that’s why there’s such a debate on my age in my head.

Fear

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I have flaws. As all do. One of my flaws is that I can be kind of an anxious or nervous person. I usually try not to let people see me anxious and I have several ways of dealing with it. Reading, art, writing, music, wondering around the house, daydreaming, fixing whatever’s wrong in my head. I tend to wonder a lot, especially when I’m at mom and dad’s. A lot has been going on and lately I find that I’m really restless and wondering a lot. The main thing I worry about is now out of my hands and as much as I hate that, I find it necessary. I can’t control everything.

Along those lines, tonight I was checking Facebook and one of the girls I’ve known since the third grade has 2 kids and she was talking about the father(s) and it ended with a hashtag that said Fear is for the Faithless. It’s one of those things that I think I’ve known my whole life but never really mentally recognized. I grew up in church and with stories like Noah and Thomas and Paul and all these people that stepped out into the unknown. The one thing that they all shared was that they had faith, they may have faltered and momentarily doubted and no doubt they had times they were scared or anxious but they all had faith enough to obey and listen. I’ve repeating that to myself all night while I’ve been wondering, faith is for the faithless. I know I have the faith for whatever happens next.

Then I started thinking about who I really am. I recently finished a book called Thr3e by Ted Dekker. There are three characters with definite personalities. There’s the almost overly innocent man with a rough past, his best friend who’s a very confident and smart girl and then there’s the lunatic. At the end of the book you realize how they’re all really connected and I started thinking about that and I tried to figure out which one I really identify with. Granted none of them have the anxiety or nervousness like I do but (and this might get a little “Breakfast Club” or anti that movie here) that I have been a specific person my whole life but I have a little bit of everything in me, qualifying me to be the person who can be brave enough to step out into the unknown like those in the Bible and be someone that will be talked about for generations to come. Not that being immortal in written form is what I’m looking for.

This isn’t necessarily a post that I had planned on writing. But since I was anxious and wondering wasn’t working for me and my hands were hurting from knitting, I decided to write what was in my head. I’m sure that with whatever happens with what I’m anxious about will be blogged about in some way, shape or form. We’ll see where my unknown takes me and see if I have enough faith to not be fearful. (something I’m always looking to do)

One Time I was Mexican?

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Last night, I had a dream. Not a dream that is any way, shape or form useful to everyday life. But it was a dream.

In my dream, I was Mexican. I’m a blonde haired, very white girl of German from Russian descent so let the fact that in my dream, I was Mexican sit for a second. I find it amusing that I was Mexican. Why Mexican of all nationalities? I have more about this later. Point of this is that I was Mexican. Maybe I’m Mexican at heart? Maybe I just wish I was Mexican. And I wasn’t just Hispanic, I was Mexican. I’m a million percent sure I was Mexican.

So I was in a modern revolution in Mexico. I know it wasn’t any recent revolution in Mexico because everyone was dressed in modern clothes. But I also don’t know that there isn’t a revolution somewhere in Mexico right now. I’m not up to date on revolutions in the world. I do know that Russia took/adopted part of the Ukraine. Why is it ‘the’ Ukraine? And when I say revolution, I mean the violent revolution not the literary revolution or any other kind of revolution. So let’s recap. In the dream, I’m a Mexican revolutionary….revolutionist….revolutionary person?

So okay. I don’t know how this happened but I was being executed, old revolution style. Like I was being put up against a wall and being shot. I wasn’t tortured, I didn’t have a trial, I was just going to be shot with a large group of people. My back was to the shooters and I was soothing someone (or at least I think I was soothing someone. There were kind words directed at someone.) and I knew that there were shots being fired and I fell to the ground. I wasn’t in pain and so I was thinking “maybe I didn’t get shot. Maybe I’ll open my eyes” I tried opening my eyes. Nope, didn’t happen. When I realize that I couldn’t open my eyes, I started praying and there was a bright light and then I opened my eyes in reality. So I died in my dream. So by the end of the dream I was a dead Mexican revolutionist.

Why was I Mexican? Why was I in a Mexican revolution? What was I fighting for? It must have been something worth dying for. Since I died, does that make me a bad revolutionist or does that mean I did my job for the revolution by dying? Maybe that could be answered if I knew what I was fighting for. Maybe I was fighting for the right to….die? The right to be who I wanted to be? Maybe I should research Mexican politics and if there’s any upheaval right now. That would probably answer more questions. The thing is, I don’t feel any need to go to Mexico or any countries in that area. I’m okay with being in the States right now.

That was dream. Go analyze or do whatever you do with that information.

Future Thank You Speech to Me.

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So I went on a walk today with my mother. We were walking in silence and a lot went through my head. Like how much I love my prairie, how nervous I am that I’m going to have to leave it one day. Then I started thinking about my niece and nephew, my nephew in particular because we’re a little bit closer. I was thinking about when he gets to be 18 and is graduating high school. At this school, same one that all three of us kids graduated from, the graduation ceremony is run by the class. Students do the welcome, the class memories speech, the ending, the poem that the English teacher wrote are all done by the students. The Valedictorian and the Salutatorian also do a speech. I started planning out my nephew’s speech when he’s thanking me for all that good advice when he’s Valedictorian or Salutatorian because I’m a little weird like that and I needed some thing to think about. So here’s what I had in my head/hope that I pass on to both kids and my kids and any future nieces and nephews.

Thank you to Aunt Megan for not necessarily telling me, but showing me about what passion, love and helping people really is. Thank you for showing that love for people doesn’t start or end with blood relation, it starts with a seed and extends beyond our back yard. It also extends color, religion and ethnicity. Love knows no bounds. Thank you for showing me that sarcasm and wit are good things that can help you make friends but are dangerous things when used at inappropriate times. I have to admit that I had to learn that lesson the hard way. Thank you for being not just my aunt but my friend, my confidant and my “don’t tell mom and dad” go to. Thank you to you and that sister of yours ratting me out when I was 6 and making me telling mom that I cut my hair on Christmas Day. I still haven’t lived that one down. Probably never will but it lets me know that you are invested in my life. You wouldn’t tell me random things if you didn’t. I’m also counting on that $100 when I get married. Make sure the check’s good.

I remember going to the hospital the day my nephew was born and falling in love with him the second I saw him and watching my brother be a new dad and seeing the excitement and nervousness in my brother (and my sister-in-law) and being excited for him and being nervous myself. I was nervous because I know that being an aunt can be a great responsibility. It still makes me a little nervous because I know those kids look at to me and I don’t want to disappoint or slip up. Six and a half years later I’m nervous still. Can we just see me being a parent? I would be in fear a lot. I also remember thinking when I saw him that I was the aunt that the kids would get into trouble with. I’m still holding true to that. Little unknown fact that when my sister-in-law was pregnant, Bucky Covington was just starting to be played on country radio and he was being played to the point I couldn’t stand him because the western tourist trap I was working at was playing him all the time. It was sickening. I remember being in the pickup with my brother and telling him that if they had a boy and they named him Bucky, I was coming up with a cooler name but if they didn’t I would could him Bucky. They didn’t, I didn’t. I do call him Munchkin though. He likes it. He actually just requested that I call him that instead of being grouped in with his sister and being called a kiddo. The point being that I want to make a difference in these kids’ lives and it scares me that I’ll just be the aunt. I’m working on that.

Let’s just say that if I had to write speeches for high school seniors, I would rock at it. Maybe. It would be entertaining at least.

Have I ever told the story about my graduation and the bet? I think I have. Here it is for good measure. The valedictorian and the girl that read the class poem sat next to each other and made a $2 bet that the other would cry during their speech. The guy valedictorian gets up (with a real flower boutonniere) and starts crying and blames the allergies that he doesn’t have. The girl gets up tells everyone about the bet and he just lost and starts reading and then starts crying. Guy stands up and starts clapping because they both lost. Great story though.

On a different subject I watched “The Great Gatsby” last night. I haven’t read that book. Why haven’t I read that book? I maybe a little obsessed with it now. I have to get this book. I think I’ve looked at it and thought it wasn’t my kind of book, now I’m thinking that I was wrong. I may love it. I must read this. Then. Then I went on GoodReads to add it to my list and saw that most everyone that I have as friends there has it added and read. We didn’t read this book in high school. Isn’t this book supposed to be on high school reading lists everywhere? I had to read stupid Animal Farm. Stupid book about communism.

A Truth Univerally Acknowledged?

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I had to get out of the house tonight. Right after a man with a fortune wanting a wife, getting out of the house every once in a while is a truth universally acknowledged. My old high school does random musicals that no one’s ever heard of in the spring and that’s what I did. Super exciting right? That’s what you do in a small town, you go to high school stuff. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t quite good either. I don’t know how to explain it though. It was good to talk to my former English teacher/drama coach/speech coach. There are worse things.

Tonight after I got back I heated some leftovers up and was talking to my parents. We started talking about something that happened in the 1980′s and being born in 1988, I sure do remember this. So I mentioned that when I was alive in the ’80′s I was kind of preoccupied with pooping, eating and sleeping. My father asked if anything had changed. “Not really, I pooped before, I’m eating now and I’m thinking about going to bed.” It’s kind of true. All I kind of want is to poop, eat and sleep. It must be tough being an infant. Maybe that should be my truth universally acknowledged. I need to center life around sleeping, eating and pooping.

Book Front: I’m trying to get through John Adams. It’s not that it’s a bad book, it’s just that with working at the home and working at home, I’m tired and need mindless entertainment or the afore mentioned sleep. I like sleep. It might be a love thing going on. I’m to tired to tell.

MJ and I are still email writing. We’re up to 74 emails and a lot of pages and words and sentences. (which is what writing and emails are generally made up of….generally?) Here’s an excerpt from my portion:

They walked down the board walk in what now was a comfortable silence. Jane didn’t know why but it bothered her that she didn’t tell Brad that she broke up with Edward. She had to tell him. “Brad, I skipped a confession back at the pizza place. I broke up with Edward after I found out he was working with Jenny.” Brad sighed and patted her hand as they walked arm in arm. He all of a sudden dropped her hand and ran into one of the stores that were scattered along the boardwalk and came out with something small. It was a small Ariel from the “Little Mermaid” doll and he handed it to her. It was Jane’s favorite movie and she loved the doll. Brad leaned in and said, “It’ll help you tread water in the hard times”. Jane was touched. They quietly walked around and finally decided to go back to the house.

Okay, granted, probably not my best writing and it probably needs to fleshed out and corrected, but give me a break. It’s my fun writing that I don’t necessarily have to flesh out and I think I can convince MJ to let me flesh this out later. Right MJ? Because I have a feeling you’re reading this. Email me MJ.

We did talk about showers and how I need a portable shower bench because when I come home from work and need a shower, I don’t want a bath but I don’t want to stand for a shower. I don’t think that portable shower benches exist. She tells me that they do. Someone research that for me so you can prove right.

I do apologize for my posts being random and not having a cohesive thought to them. But that’s my life.

Story Time: Self Edition

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All of these stories are recent.

A week or so ago, there was a night that was a bad sleeping night due to pain. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s finger related. Not the point.(but my finger does…point…did you get that?) All you need to know is my finger is okay and not falling off and I slept in until 9 that next morning. One of the local stations has like a mini-talk show put on by the news sation. Sometimes they have local bands and yesterday they had a local band on. I kept looking at the lead singer and wondering why he looked so familiar. It was because I sat next to him my freshman year of college in band and I had a crush on him. Several things about this, because if you’re like me, this brings up some thoughts.

Last time I saw this guy was 2007, how did I still remember this guy? What did I see in him? He isn’t the greatest looking guy. Was it because he was better than me in band? Is playing in a band his job now? I mean he’s almost 30 so what’s with this? Is this why I’m still single? I choose random non-dateable guys? More on that later, on a different post.

So recently I was in Barnes and Noble buying David McCullough’s John Adams and first the guy behind me acted surprised that I even knew who the author was buy even had read one of McCullough’s pieces. I have a theory that he was surprised because I look young. THEN the sales girl checking me out looks at it and was like this is a good book and she looks my age. Us young’uns do read books, how about that.

So the best thing about working at a nursing home, I’ve decided, is that random things come out of them. Not just crap but like words and actions that come are funny. Like kicking and throwing stuff at aids, and “when I get mad, shit is going to hit the fan” and “We’ll boil the shit out of it”. They do talk about shit a lot. I found out, no, I take that back. My feelings have been affirmed that I will not be in health care for the rest of my life.

So my car is having tire problems and I’ve been driving one of our pick ups. I’ve enjoyed every single second of it. I was driving home tonight and I wasn’t out of town and I drive by the cemetery, (which is on one side of town) and the cops like to sit there, nothing new, they’ve sat there for years. Even when I was in high school that was where they sat. The cop pulled me over for a headlight that was out. First I couldn’t find the button to roll the window down, so I just opened the door, then I didn’t have my seat belt on but I made up a story that I needed to reach over for the cubby hole and the stuff that was in it. The insurance wasn’t current, I’m about 90% the registration was current, on the verge of speeding and I didn’t have my seat belt on. I didn’t get a ticket. I was floored. First thing out of my mouth when I got home (I had called and told them what was going on) was how surprised I was that I didn’t get a ticket. I also had horn problems with this pickup today, so it was a full day of pickup today.

So I’m full of stuff going on. Those were just the highlights.