Random Thoughts.

So I’m one of those dumb people that will eat croutons for a meal. It’s not healthy I know. But I was recently looking at the ingredients. Let this be known about me. Sometimes I read labels for no reason. When I was working in Medora for the summer, when I knew I had to go but it was going to take a while, I’d grab a bottle and read while I waited. I found out one of our cleaning tablets cured AIDS but you couldn’t ingest it. I want to know what animal they tested that on to find that out. Because I assure you that it had to be tested on something to prove that it was cure for AIDS and be put on the package and why are you testing a cleaning product if it cures AIDS anyway? Were they bored one day and wondered that? OH! Were they in the bathroom? That’s where I do some good thinking along with reading labels. But back to my crouton bag. I was reading the ingredients. It says Canola and/or sunflower oil…..natural butter flavor (a milk ingredient). Let’s talk about that. Why is it and/or sunflower oil? This is a very specific brand of crouton and it’s a specific flavor of crouton. Is it because some of the sunflower oil got on some of the croutons and not the others or both? That actually makes sense to me. Maybe I just had to write it out to understand. So the butter. I just assumed that was a milk ingredient. Is that an erroneous thought? Maybe it’s just a farm girl thought. Anyway. Random thoughts of the day.

Pond with Witches and Blackbirds

I’m in the process of reading a large book called The Invisible Bridge by Julie Orringer. It’s well over 700 pages so it’s taking me a while to get through. Though I’m loving it, it’s taking me a while. Because of that, I decided that I’d go back and review a few books from my past. I looked at my shelves and looked and looked. Then I saw a small book and I got super excited. We’re going back to my elementary, pre-teenage years for this one. The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare. We read this book in school when I was in the sixth grade, I was 12. Just in case you didn’t know what age you are in the sixth grade. Just a random addition here: I remember being sick when we read this book and something was with my teacher and she wasn’t there for like an hour and the elementary principal took over the class for the while and my nose was super stuffed because I was sick and started to run and I didn’t want to get up for a tissue because I was scared of the principal. It was a good class, but I just had a stuffed nose and I was miserable. I loved this book so much I used my own my money to buy it. Big thing when you’re 12. In case you don’t know about this book, let me recap for you. And it’s in my own words.

Kit Tyler is an orphan and she’s going to Connecticut Colony from the Caribbean islands to live with family. Who are Puritans. And they live in a strict Puritan community. She only feels accepted at with an old Quaker woman who lives far from town and is also known as the Witch of Blackbird Pond. And she also feels accepted by a sailor named Nat. Wink Wink. When people find out Kit’s friendship with the Quaker is found out, things go downhill.

So reading this in school, there’s the historical aspect that you’re taught. The witch trials, coming to the colonies, pre-Revolutionary life, etc. I always liked history so this was really interesting. I found out a lot a lot about the Witch Trails with this book. Like are you a witch if you float or you sink in water? Either way you’re screwed right? Either way you’re dead. (Note: With recent events, I could make inappropriate comments with that. But too soon and I don’t want to offend anyone and they are horrible things that I could say.) It’s also a reminder that since this book is set in Connecticut and there’s witch trials. I tend to forget that the witch trials were outside of Salem, Massachusetts. Being accused of being a witch was a much larger thing than a lot of people realize or remember. It was in all the colonies and abroad. There was also a huge witch “problem” in Europe as well. And today people are called witches all the time. Witch is not the word that the speaker is always insinuating. And people are also saying they are and relating to being witch. So the meaning of the word witch is different now than it was in centuries past. I also appreciate that Kit was from the Caribbean. (How do you say that word? What syllable do you stress? The Cari or the be? Just curious.) I forgot that people didn’t always come straight from Europe. Sometimes they stopped in the Caribbean. Everyone has a different story and it’s ridiculous to think that everyone came from their home in Europe straight to where they are living now in the States. My family didn’t. A lot of my family went from Germany to Russia before they came to North Dakota. One part of my family has more than German blood in them and were in Ohio before North Dakota. Some of them even returned to Ohio after WWII. Sometimes you forget that there’s a history before you.

Actual book. Let’s talk about it. If you didn’t get from my description from the book, Nat and Kit get together. Or you assume they get together. At 12, I didn’t see that coming right away and when I realized he was asking her to run away with him on his boat that he just bought, I was ‘ahhhh that’s so cute’. Yup, actual thought and I then I wanted someone to buy a boat for me and ask me to marry them and run away with them. And then there were other things he did that were cute. Looking back, I don’t know how that would work. I don’t do boats very often. It’s not that I’m anti-boat or that I get boat sick. I just have no access to boats. There’s a lake like 20 miles away and I’m like an hour away from the Missouri River but still, where am I going to go with a boat? So maybe at 12 it would have been more applicable for me to daydream about being whisked away by a bike. I could ride on the guy’s handlebars or something.

Then there’s the fact that Kit almost married someone other than Nat. Horrible. I didn’t like that. But there needed to be conflict and being set up was part of the society. Whatever. I also appreciated that this book shows how she struggled to fit in and how she kind of worked at trying to fit in. It’s a good message. Kit couldn’t change who she was. The back of the book describes her as a tropical bird. And coming from the Caribbean to Connecticut, it makes sense. Caribbean is super warm all the time and then Connecticut isn’t. I’m supposing on both. I’ve never been to either. It’s a good message to kids.

But I keep coming back to being accused of being witches. It’s almost like my Mermaid kick I had a few years ago. It’s mass hysteria. I think that people are intimidated by knowledge and things that they don’t understand. Hence people knowing how to help people with a disease when the majority don’t or actually knowing how to swim so you can be a witch. I then wondered what the modern equivalent is to a witch hunt. In the States, it may be cops. I had a discussion about this with some of my kids in Hungary. Part of it is racial but you rarely hear the good of a group of people. You hear a lot of the bad things happening with cops in the past few years. Yes, the things that are coming out are bad. But these are the select few situations. You don’t hear all the good that the rest of the police force is doing. So cops are getting the brunt of it.

Personal life update. I’m reading a lot, I’m trying to finish up some projects. I started working again at the nursing home, which isn’t my favorite job but it’s a job. I did have a few residents that were really excited to see me again. I’m at the other farm full time. I have a fridge now and still no oven/stove. I was at war with both toilets. One is fixed now. The other one is in the bathroom that’s in the entry way and I don’t use that bathroom anyway. I’m also used to the noises now. One night there was strong winds and I was hearing creaks of the house (this house is 50 some years old so it has it’s creaks) and I texted my mom about it and she told me to come home if I needed but I just turned up my stereo and fell asleep to a movie so I was good and then she texted me in the middle of the night asking if I had electricity, which I didn’t, and I was up for another hour listening to the noises of the house. Yup, I now remember I have an overactive imagination. I even heard noises last night I was hesitant over. I swear that it sounded like a foot step! But that’s life.

Late Night Post

I can’t sleep. This is the first night since I’ve been back that I haven’t been able to sleep. There’s a lot of things going on that are keeping up.

Yesterday I helped my sister move to Fargo. I don’t necessarily like my brother-in-law. So on top of going through culture re-entry, I have to hold my temper. I didn’t hold my temper very well at the end and both my parents kind of reprimanded me. I’m sure my dad wouldn’t have but felt that I was being rude regardless so he told me not to be crabby. Today I have had the remnants of being frustrated and it’s affecting how I’m reacting to people. Which is unfortunate.

Some of this frustration is from re-entry. I don’t feel understood a lot. I’m not expecting total understanding but I want people to know that I get frustrated more easy now. And it’s for reasons that may seem silly. Things like going to church is a big deal. I need my distance. I want to be alone a lot of the time. I have a hard time being upbeat. Hugs (though I’ve never liked them) are a huge deal now, even from family members. All these things come so much harder now. People aren’t asking what’s going on. They just assume I’m okay. And they’re not seeing how I’m actually acting and picking up on cues. Which is frustrating. I recently got told during a confrontation that I need to heal and I wouldn’t have minded the comment but it was said like I didn’t know I needed to do it. I’m fully aware of a lot, healing being one of them. I think that another problem I’ve been having is that I am having a hard time telling people what’s going on and how to say it without it coming out bitch like. Even when not talking about re-entry things come out bitchy. It’s a hard thing. If I go away again, I don’t know how much time I’ll be spending in the States again. We’ll see how things go.

Few Thoughts on Leaving Hungary.

I come back to the states in 6 days. There’s so much emotion that goes into that one sentence. But this year has made me more emotional than I ever have before. I think when you’re living overseas (especially when you’re a single woman), emotions are amplified by a million. I’m extremely excited to leave, completely sad that I’m leaving. I’m scared for numerous reasons and dreading traveling. I’m in the process of getting things done and getting the last few things. But sitting here, writing. I’m getting the anxious pit in my stomach. I know with how rough these last 10 months have been, a lot of people won’t understand my hesitation for leaving. But no one has really seen the whole story. No one has seen the little moments. Or heard the questions and one liners that were so perfectly spoken by my students. Or had the bonding moments (superficial or not) with the random people that have been a huge part of my life for 300 days. No one knows how many times I’ve asked myself why am I here or the times I’ve thought, this is why I’m here. Yes, I have consciously been aware of how long it will be until I go home in the sense that I will be going back to a place I’ve known my whole life. But now I am also consciously aware of how Budapest has a piece of my heart and that I will leave a little bit of me here and have that hole replaced with Hungary.

There’s still a lot of pain in me. There’s been big events that I’ve missed back home, I’ve practically ruined one of the best friendships I’ve ever had. I’m going to carry those things with me for the rest of my life. There’s a lot of guilt. I can’t change what’s been done or said. I get that. I wish I could change some things though but I knew that coming to Hungary meant that life was going to be tough and life was going to be real and I was going to miss things and relationships would change. Sometimes terminate. (None of my relationships have terminated. Don’t worry. Some have changed dramatically and you know who you are and I’m sorry. I’m trying.) But the thing is, I’ve never been a completely open person. I keep my emotions to myself so that other people can hurt. Until this year, that’s worked for me. I was able to deal under these circumstances. But this year, with emotions amplified, I can’t function like that. I won’t be able to function like I used to for a long time, if ever. I would have eventually come to that point without Hungary but moving here sped it up. I’m sure a lot of people have noticed a change in my blog. I’m writing a lot differently. I need to. I’m sure eventually I’ll get back to writing like I used to, but now this blog is more self-centered. Because I need to throw whatever is in me out into the universe. I can’t leave what’s going on in me inside. It’s why I’ve started journaling like crazy. It helps me get the emotion out.

I don’t know what people expect of me. I know some people will expect me to be the same Megan I’ve always been. I’m not. As much as I fake it, I’m not. There’s a lot more anxiety and much more insecurity and less confidence in some areas. There has been a lot of tears this year from me and there’s going to be a lot more. I’ve cried and will cry for other people and for me. But there will be people that understand. Mainly those who have experienced this themselves. Some others too but it will be harder for them to understand why more than one native English speaker is overwhelming or why going to a restaurant or going to a grocery store with more than one or two options is overwhelming. It’s a special circumstance I’m in, but I’ll get through it.

Yesterday was the last technical day of teaching. I didn’t do anything. One class gave me a picture of them and chocolate. They told me they loved me. I love them too. I didn’t expect to love these kids and this country as much as I do. I expected love but not this deep. It’s a reason I don’t want to leave. I have laughed and cried with and for these kids. How do I move on from that? How does anyone move on from that? I get told by people who have gone back after living overseas for a time and they tell me to give myself some time to heal and don’t put a time limit on it. Leaving in under a week, I realize that I will never completely heal from Hungary and I don’t want to. This country has helped shape me in a way that no one has expected.

Hungarian Language With a Small Rant.

I felt like my last post was a little scattered to me so lets see if I can get back into this blogging thing.

So last Sunday, after church, I spent time with a girl I went to orientation with. She’s in a town outside of the city at this more “American” school. We’re both here for a year. She’s here for a year because of the contract she has with the school in New York and I’m just staying for a year because, as of right now, that’s all I’m called to do. So we were talking. Her school makes her take language lessons so she learns Hungarian. Mine doesn’t. She was saying how she doesn’t really want to take these lessons because she’s going to be here for just a year. What’s the point? She mentioned that she can get along with just pointing. It’s been working just fine for her. I then started thinking.

She sounded so condescending. Like the Hungarian language wasn’t worth her time. She came to Hungary for a year. Obviously something was worth it in the country. Trying to communicate in the native language is not only polite but it’s so arrogant sounding. I feel, and whether I have succeeded or not is still to be determined, that I should try to fit in as much as possible. Now I’m teaching Hungarian students and not all her students are Hungarian. It’s different for me. She’s kind of in an American bubble. I’m not. I kind of need to learn some Hungarian. It helps me earn respect from my students. High schoolers are a hard group to impress, no matter where you are in the world. Some things don’t change. I get that Hungarian is a hard language so by the time we would get the hang of it we would leave. (there are 4 categories of language. 4 being the hardest to learn and that’s like Chinese. Hungarian is a 3 so it’s a hard language.) I just have a hard time seeing this like she does. We’re here with a Christian organization. They kind of like us to try to interact. The schools that we’re at don’t have to have us. I mean in my case, they need a native speaker so yeah they need me, but ultimately, they didn’t need to say yes when our company asked them to take us. To learn Hungarian, to me and at least a little, is a sign of respect and honor. I guess she’s not with Hungarians like I am so it’s completely different. Isn’t it? Or am I totally overreacting to this? I mean that’s happened before. I think that it’s happened at least a couple of times on this blog where I overreacted. So again, it’s possible that I’m overreacting.

So I didn’t even touch bilingual church did I? Oy. So. First time I went we were late and they were singing in Hungarian so I was like okay. Cool. I was like they have Hungarians lead worship. Then the worship leader starts praying in English without a Hungarian accent. Like it’s pretty American. What? Way to throw me off. Like I’m not thrown off with life to begin with. Then you turn out to be not Hungarian when I thought you were. Distrust……. Yeah, that’s a lie. I trust this place even though they throw me off.

I have also been taking an insane amount of naps here. First it was because of the jet lag. Now just because I got into the habit of taking naps. Especially on Sunday afternoons. The girl across the hall, also American we are the only 2 Americans at our school, looked at me last weekend and goes, “You really like your Sunday naps, don’t you?” Yes. I am turning into my one or both of my parents.

Good thing: I have a three-day weekend. Bad thing: Hungarians make it up on Saturday. Ugh. Well, at least I’ll get at least one day off next weekend right? Updates to come.

Snipits.

I tell decent stories right? Let me tell you more.

The other day, we came back from dinner/noon meal and I was like I need to go. So I walk over to the bathrooms. You know how usually, in a hall, the woman’s bathroom is first because woman tend to have to pee bad all the time? Not in this hall. So I walk in the men’s bathroom and I look around and I was confused because there used to be more stalls. I looked over and there’s urinals, thankfully no one was in the bathroom. I did jet out of the bathroom though without being caught.

A group of us went to ‘Godzilla’ last Tuesday. Yeah, not my kind of movie. We also went to go see ‘The Fault in our Stars’ on Sunday. That was good.

My roommate and I went to Chicago and The Art Institute. That was fun and then we went to get pizza and then to the river. The air was funny smelling and tasting but the pizza was good. So it evened out.

Thing that’s been bugging me is that people hear I’m from North Dakota and they’re like Mt. Rushmore, Laura Ingalls Wilder. NO! That’s lame-o South Dakota. (I do love SD. Just not home.) Then they go well they’re the same thing anyway. NO! THEY’RE NOT! NORTH Dakota. NORTH! Get it right. There’s a difference.

I talked about grammar all week. BOOOOOOO! I was excited at the beginning of the week. By the end, I hated it. Two weeks left of my training. Halfway through. I can do this right. BTW, if anyone has anything fun to do in the Chicago area on weekends. Let me know.

MJ and I decided we’re not dating this year. That’s kind of unfortunate because the town I’m in now is a very nice biking/running community and there’s a bunch of shirtless guys. And every time I see one I’m walking and look unattractive and don’t say anything back because they’re friendly here. Like one waved to me when he was getting in his car and I was like ‘is he shirtless?’ he was and one guy was biking when we were going to class and he was like ‘have a good day in class’ and I was totally like ‘what?’ Makes me an awkward interacter right? But we have been talking about guys a lot lately. Tonight I was walking and they’re doing some work in this parking lot so there’s a pile of cement and I look over and there’s a guy sitting there. I’m glad I’m not that awkward.

So I don’t know if I’ve announced this but I’m not going to the Czech anymore. I’m going to Hungary. I’m sort of excited, sort of not. It’s a work in progress. I just want to get through this month in one piece.

Random thought. Juliet bothers me. She was like 14. What does she know?

Catch Up.

I know I’ve been doing a lot of these but I’m busy, leave me alone. I’m going to do a catch up on my life post again. So here’s the run down on what’s going on.

My chest got stared at and my butt touched, by different men, a week and a half apart and one should not have done what he did. One of my residents told me we were sisters and was disappointed when I told her my brother was married with 2 kids. I got a new computer, which I can’t get on the internet with yet because my parents don’t have wireless. I guess I’m going to Budapest now instead of the Czech Republic. My nephew graduated kindergarten, niece turns 5 next Tuesday. Today is my last shift at the nursing home for a month. I fly to training on Sunday. I’ve helped move equipment from field to field, emptied a pickup of seed bags and been under the drill helping to free it from twine.

Let’s explain some of those things now.

The company I’m working for sent me an email, that I saw yesterday because I’m busy and can’t check my email every day, and told me there’s not enough teaching spots in the Czech Republic. I’m pretty disappointed. I’ve been preparing myself, my heart for this and falling more in love with the country for 8 months and now I have to switch my thinking around in less than half that time. I mean, I’ll deal with it and the company can’t help what the schools want. But there’s been tears about this. But I’ll get over it.

I went shopping yesterday. If you’re Facebook friends with me you know I’ve started to pack for my training. I also said that I felt like I had no clothes for this. So as much as I hate it, I went shopping yesterday and spent way more than I like. You also know that MJ and I had a conversation on a post I had about going shopping. I hate shopping. I’m not a girly girl so going shopping is like pulling teeth. MJ and I have also have discussed me getting into a dress or skirt. She wants to get me in a skirt so bad. She’s trying to get me to be a girly girl. Trust me, if MJ had her way, I would be in dresses and skirts and heels all the time. I’ll take my jeans, tee shirts and boots, thank you very much. So yesterday, to torment MJ, I sent her a selfie of me in a skirt. She still doesn’t know if I bought it or not. If I knew that MJ wouldn’t be reading this post, I would give a definite answer if I bought it or not. But I’ll never tell. Is trying on a gateway drug for me being a girly girl? Hope not. I also got a computer yesterday, but like I said, can’t use the internet on it yet.

So the last post (I think the last post) I talked about the guy that said “Sooooo, you’re a woman”. I mean, I’m not a girly girl but it is kind of obvious that I am of the female gender. Caught him staring at my chest the other day. Awkward. Then he was disappointed to hear that I was leaving. I may be misreading this guy, but is he into me? I hope not. I’d most likely break his heart. No, not most likely, I would break his heart. Poor guy. Fall out of love with me. We’re not made for each other. I promise. We’re too different. I’m to aggressive for you. (It’s weird to think I’m too aggressive for someone) You can find someone better than me. No one saw that coming from me right? Me saying that a guy should find someone else. Mark that down as a significant day in history. And this guy isn’t a bad guy. There’s just enough room for one awkward person and I have that semi-down. He’s not bad looking either. I’m just not interested. Let that be known. I’m not going to talk about the other incident because I don’t want to be pissed off again because that’s what happens when you touch my but and I don’t want you to. I get pissed. And the story could get people in trouble. I’ll must be quiet about it. I know only one person that knows what this reference means but I almost pulled a Brad on him when touched me. (I almost got violent.)

So along with working at the nursing home (last shift for over a month. YAY!) I’ve been helping at home. That means I get to drive a pickup around on country roads. I don’t think people realize how happy this makes me. If I could get a job from late April to about October driving a pickup around on country roads, I would take that in a heart beat. Especially if it’s an old pickup. Makes me even happier. See. Not a girly girl. I’d rather be in an old pickup with my hair up in a messy bun or in a pony tail driving around. Further proof that I need to marry a farmer. I’d totally move back to the farm full time if I could.

The kids are growing up. The nephew is now a kindergarten grad and the niece will be starting kindergarten in the fall and turning 5. The nephew continues to break my heart every time he’s excited to hang out with me and then asks me how many days he has left with me. I’m continuing to the love the niece even though, personality wise, we’re completely different and she drives me a little crazy every once in a while.

MJ and I have still been writing. It’s our drug. I joke that I’m the puppet master of this story because I plant ideas in her head and she goes all dramatic on her sections with these ideas and it’s making our story 1,000% better because my sections are lame sauce. There’s amnesia involved now and a super lame guy. I’ve used lame to describe this guy like a thousand times. He’s so lame. This story is turning into a soap opera. I’m convinced. Now MJ is taking a vacation down south and I’ll probably have to wait for an entry…… 😦 sad face.

So that’s the main things going on in my life. It sounds like a lot and it is but it’s all non-exciting things.

So there’s this car place in the area. It’s Kupper Chevrolet. Do you pronounce it Kupper like cup-her or coop-her? I’ve been pronouncing it cup-her. I’m wrong. It’s coop-her. What the eff? I’m pronouncing it right, everyone else is wrong. Sorry that was a random tangent. It’ll happen again.

Yup

Everyone has that couple friends that are gross cute. They’re that couple that are so cute they’re gross. They don’t mean it or get handsy or anything, they just are so in love that it’s gross. They do cute little things for each other and stuff. It makes you want to puke. Gross cute. MJ and I have been talking about this a lot lately. We’re writing and telling this story and one day I was worried about the one couple being gross cute. I also told her that I never want to be gross cute. Not that I have anything against being gross cute but it’s not who I am. I’m the somewhat sarcastic girl who’s a little direct. Gross cute is not what I do. But we’ll see what happens, if that happens.

So I got hit on the other night at work by a man in his upper 80’s. Awkward. So you have to know this guy is one of the most appreciative men ever. Never a bad word to be said, even when he’s sick he’s really positive and will give you a compliment. He’s the one that called me pretty one. So tonight, I’m getting him from his recliner to his wheel chair. He was pivoting, meaning that he stands and turns instead of getting hooked up to a machine to help him turn. So I’m standing in front of him and he’s turning and when he turns he’s a little hunched and you can’t be me and a CNA and not get in people’s faces when you pivot. You can’t do that and not feel comfortable that they’re not going to fall. So he’s turning and he goes well at least I have soft breasts to lay my head on. I was so concentrated on what I was doing that it didn’t hit me what was going on. And being who he is, I know he was being nice and being positive but it was so creepy. Then later I was helping him get ready for bed and I heard the lady next door ring her bell and I was a little unnerved by what had happened so I go out and the other CNA was about to go into the neighbor’s room. So I was like “S, let’s switch” and he’s like okay the original guy was his to get ready anyway. So later S the CNA goes, “Hey, thanks for getting him started.” and I go. “No problem, he said something that made me a little uncomfortable before so I was glad to get out of there.” The man that commented to me is so sweet that S the CNA corners me going into a store room to ask me what he said. So I tell him and I was like “I know he didn’t mean it as like weird, but it unnerved me.” Thank God for S the CNA. I was at the home unofficially yesterday and walked by his room and kind of shuttered. I’ll get over it.

So yesterday, Saturday, was family day at the home. I didn’t have to work but I was there because my grandma is in the home. First, I had CNA’s telling me I need to get my scrubs on, get my name tag and start working. NO! Then we ran to the store after the festivities were done. We went in with my sister-in-law and the kids (I was sitting in between the kids in the back seat of the pickup) and my mom was going to run in. I yell, “When you’re in there, pick up a mother’s day card for yourself from me.” Mom and sister-in-law just look at each other and shake their heads. It’s not an unusual reply is it? No….Yes, I should have thought about mother’s day before the day before. I fail as a child. So, my brother and sister-in-law built a house on the home place and my nephew and I planned for me to come over and play. We get home and he says. I’ll call you when to come over. So I take my contacts out, throw my hair up and put on a sweatshirt and I’m messing around then he calls. So I go over. You expect the kid to play with me right? Yeah, for like a half an hour. The rest of the time, I help him with his subtraction homework and hang out with my sister-in-law. Lamest play date ever. We need to work on that.

MJ and I are still utterly addicted to our story. We may need an intervention. Someone want to stage that for us? So tonight I go, I’m going to go to bed. So I take a quick shower, do my toe nails, start shaving my legs with my electric shaver and it dies so I go back on the internet. This all happens in like an hour an MJ has been working on her section for like 2 hours. This is us, more so her than me because I know I can edit she edits as she goes, we spend hours on our story. Makes us epic.

Hair.

This is going to be a girly post. If you are male, I’m not saying you won’t enjoy this but it’s a long shot.

With the exception of when I was 2 and I had a bob, I have always been a girl with long hair. Shoulder length or longer. I like it that way. That’s the way it will be for the unforeseeable future. I really don’t mind my hair. I’m used to it. I’m a hair flipper so there’s that, it helps a girl flirt when necessary and let’s face it, not much flirting going on right now. (You hear that MJ? No flirting, no boys!) There are perks to having long hair. But recently, I’ve had a problem with my hair. And this might be a little thing but it’s a thing. Trust me. Bathing.

Usually, I take showers because that’s what I enjoy and I never realized this, but it’s less creepy for me. I’ve been sick with a cold the past couple of days and I’ve been a little achy, so I took a couple baths. Both times, I didn’t wash my hair, I just bathed and I forgot a hair tie. Now my hair is long like about halfway down my back and I’m a sloucher so it’s gonna touch the water. It kind of grosses me out that I’m bathing so all my yuckiness is in the water and, first of all, how weird is it that it’s supposed to be relaxing to sit in your own filth but then I have to have my hair touch this water. My hair, the hair on my head that I have always been picky about. I need something for my hair in this circumstance. NEED TOO. Luckily, I live with my parents that will get me my hair ties from across the hall in my room. Everything worked out for the best…..this time.

Then here’s a second thing that bugs me. Plain old washing my hair. In the sink or in the tub. No shower, no sitting in bathing. Just me, my hair, water, shampoo and conditioner. This goes along the same lines as bathing for me. No matter how clean that area is, my hair will always go straight for the drain. It’s a proven fact. It’s going to happen. Do you realize what goes down your drain? Yeah, the filth from you bath or if you’re a shower peeing person, your pee goes down there. Or if you wash your hair in the sink, your spit from your mouth when you brush your teeth goes there and your dirty hand water goes down there and that’s where my hair goes when I wash it. To the drain. So your drain is gross and since my hair is long, it goes down the drain, not just collects there, it wants to go down the drain. The drain is the closet to which my hair goes to Narnia. When I was little, I thought the drain would like pull my hair and drag me down into the depths of the unknown. Now it just creeps me out. Here’s what happens when I just wash my hair. I don’t even go near the sink. I go in the tub, yes in because my parents’ tub is very deep, and when I’m washing my scalp, my head is under the faucet, one hand is stabilizing myself and holding my hair, (which is trailing out of the hand) and the other hand is getting all the soap out. It’s a process that I’m not so fond of because no matter how hard I try my hair goes down the drain. I’m not even sure why just these two things bug me about hair. Actually, I take that back, it makes sense. I have a certain way I brush my hair, very particular how it’s cut and everything, of course I’m going to be picky on how my hair encounters with water.

So this subject of hair has been in my head for the past couple of days. So we’re going to continue with the project. My sister and I have always had longer hair. And until the last decade or decade and a half, my mom has too. Now it’s short around the ear length. And my dad likes the traditional look. He likes mom’s short hair that’s shorter and naturally a little curly and he like my sister’s and mine long, straight hair like it is. To prove this, let me tell you a story. In college, I would come home and have my lady that has cut my hair for years, cut my hair. So I come home during spring break and she cuts it. Not really noticeable when it’s down but when I put it up, it was noticeable. I’m a girl who has a hard time cutting any amount of hair off so it’s tough when I cut a noticeable amount off and it goes up in a pony tail the second I get home. So it was up in a pony tail and that night I was on all fours in the living room looking for a highlighter or something. Dad, who’s sitting right there, pulls on my hair. Mom reprimands him and says “Don’t do that, it’s tough enough for her to cut her hair, what are you doing?” “trying to make it longer.” Here’s another story. When my sister first moved out of the house she tells me (who was 12 at the time) in confidence that she’s going to dye her hair a lighter shade of blonde. She knows that mom and dad, dad in particular, won’t like it so she tells me (like so many other times growing up) “Don’t tell Mom and Dad”. She does it and mom and dad don’t say much because she’s out of the house but pretty sure dad wasn’t a fan. So he likes a classic, natural hairstyle.

Back to the REAL story here. The neighbor girl is graduating high school this spring, which is really weird for me because I remember her bald and in diapers and babysat her in high school. She’s got a shorter hair and styles it modernly. So we get the graduation announcement in the mail the other day. I’m looking at it and dad goes. “I don’t know, the way she did her hair. Looks like she went through a wind tunnel. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t like it.” On her, I thought it was cute, but I see where dad’s coming from.

The last couple weeks I’ve told friend-ish acquaintance stories from church. Not this week. I’ve been sick and mom woke me up yesterday to ask if I was going to church and I responded with: “My face hurts.” Are you going though? “Mom my face hurts.” So you’re not going to church? “No.” Okay check the roast later. Yes mommy. I walk out a little later before she leaves and I go “My face hurts.” Yes, I get it. So no great story there. And my hand in marriage came up yesterday at work. AGAIN! There’s a CNA that keeps telling me, with people around, that I’m coming back with a guy. NO! Not what I’m going for, not happening.

I’m Having Issues.

This post will cover several subjects that may or may not be related to each other. Just so you’re warned.

So remember that post of recent past that I talked about the conversation between me, friend-ish acquaintance J and my old Sunday school teach had about divorce? Remember that. If not, go and find it. So yesterday, I’m sitting before church and dad didn’t go cause he hurt and mom was playing prelude for church so I was sitting alone. J came over and started talking to me. Whatever, we’re friend-ish acquaintances. I’m not even sure how to describe our relationship. We can get along just fine but he has these creepy moments that make me hold him at arms length. He doesn’t intend to be creepy. It just happens.

So we’re talking and somehow we get to the point of him saying, “You’ll probably come back from overseas with a guy.” Now I’ve been getting a lot of this. It makes me shake my head because I’m not going to go overseas to find a guy. It’s not my intention. It’s a mission and I’m going to do that and teach and concentrate on me and God. That’s it. Anyway, I mentioned that I had just had a dream about that. J is kind of a loud and energetic kind of person so he starts talking about it and it’s kind of embarrassing to the girl who is pretty private in real life. So I told him that it was pretty much me sitting on a bench (which is weird because I’m not really a bench sitting kind of girl.) an this guy comes up and says “hey we’re getting married.” and I was like “whoa, back up here, partner.” J goes well what does this guy look like? Well, I go, from other dreams I’ve had, he’s tall and dark haired to which J replies, I’m dark haired and tall. Let’s examine this here. J is probably 6 feet tall. That’s only 3 inches tall than me. I grew up with a 6 foot 3 dad and 6 foot 4 brother and cousins, on my dad’s side, over 6 feet too. When I say tall, I mean tall. Like, well over 6 feet. And if J and I were together, one of us would not make it out alive, most likely him. And then I mentioned that in another dream I called him Mike. (also, I called him moon doggie but I think it was because I was thinking about the Gidget movies before bed) Then he goes, I need to change my name. Whatever, J, Whatever. So he drops it and leaves and one of the ladies at the back asks him if we’re dating, he starts laughing and tells me. I say, “No, we need to put the kibosh on that rumor because that will never happen.” And after church he mentions that he’s tall again to me. Oh, yeah, did I mention J has a girlfriend? Yeah, he has a girlfriend. I know he’s naturally a flirtatious guy, but let it go. So I do have an issue with this guy. I’m not interested in him. Even if he didn’t have a girlfriend I wouldn’t be interested in him. I’m serious about not being interested but he’s still flirty and it bugs me. See, issue.

So MJ and I have been writing this story back and forth and it’s been a super great stress reliever for the both of us. I check my email way more than a person should because of this story. This story has taken over our lives, we email and text about this story, we do talk about other stuff but it always comes back to this story. The story centers around these 2 girls, Jane and Effie. Today we were discussing how much we are these 2 girls. It’s ridiculous. I’m not going to talk about Effie/MJ but Jane and I are eerily similar. We’re a little bit level headed, we know how to calm down our counterparts, we worry, we stress, we’re jeans and tee shirts girls, we love our literature. (because I still love literature even though I’ve sucking on the reading front lately.) The one difference I see between Jane and me is that Jane knows when to talk about when she’s worried and let’s Brad, her love interest, calm her down. I on the other hand tend to internalize it and shut people out for a while until I get it worked out in my head. This is not how it’s supposed to be. I should talk things out. I should use my words. Which is ironic, because I have a blog and there’s at least one, but I know more of one, post that I rant about the importance of words. Really, self? What’s with you? See another issue. Plus, like I said, Jane has Brad. I don’t have a Brad. The way we’ve written him, he’s almost the perfect guy for me. Just like Effie and Steve needs to be MJ and Steve. I’m pretty sure. I’ve decided. And I’m winning the marriage bet. That’s not an issue. (but I do have speech ready just in case I lose.)

By the way, story’s going great.

I’m reading Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin. It was a large book and the back of the book made it seem interesting so I picked it up last week at Barnes and Noble. I just can’t seem to get through anything anymore. I blame moving home for that. See another issue. Issues all around. It really is.

I find myself more and more discontent where I’m at and more and more ready to be gone. It’s not that I don’t love hanging out with my parents and stuff, just ready to be starting my life again and not working at the nursing home. I’m more of a solo worker than a team worker. The other night I was working and one of the other CNA’s was like “Are you okay? are you pissed? are you mad at me?” No, that’s my face. Leave me alone. ugh, another issue.