I've never been the most athletic person. Ever. When I was in kindergarten, my class had a walk-a-thon to raise money for....something or other, & they made us practice. Yes, they made us practice walking around the gym in a circle. They must really have not had anything else for us to do those days (yes, this practice took up multiple days). Anyway, at one point the walking turned into running & I fell; the very next day my leg was in so much pain that we thought I had broken it. It turned out to just be a severely pulled muscle & I was out of commission for a few days. That's the story of how I hurt myself practicing for a walk-a-thon.
The next year, after we had moved towns, my parents decided to put me in t-ball. My 6 year old self was so overwhelmed by trying to deal with all of the kids, as well as trying to retain all of the intricacies of the game, that I had a hard time remembering for sure what I was supposed to do. Luckily, I just did what my heart told me & it was usually right (that's always the case, isn't it?). One time after hitting the ball off of the stand I ran to first base & asked the kid on there if I went to the right place. "Yeah, stupid" was his response. After the first game I asked who had won, since I noticed that no one was keeping score. "Oh, both teams won!" exclaimed the adult that I asked. I responded, "What's the point then?" They didn't really have an answer.
Also, t-ball was where I learned my first cuss word. Damn. I learned it from the Baptist pastor's son (I was the son of the Methodist minister) & it was LITERALLY the end of the world.
About 4 years later we moved to Rocky Mount & my parents put me in a soccer league that one of my cousins volunteered in. The team I ended up on was literally the worst. We only scored once the ENTIRE SUMMER & it was because a kid from the other team got confused & kicked the ball into their own goal. I really struggled with soccer. For starters, it was summer in eastern North Carolina, which is miserably, insufferably hot & humid. We had also just moved for the fourth time in my 10 year existence & I was over it (it didn't help that there had been a lot of tension due to our move). I also had been home schooled for a few years & it was around this time that I started to develop into the social person I am today (i.e. not). Anyway, I had a hard time trying to talk to the other kids so I just did my own thing. During the first game I got hit in the stomach with the ball & it hurt so bad; I had a hard time breathing for a little while after that. A few games later I looked up right as the soccer ball came soaring through the air & hit me in the head, subsequently knocking me unconscious. When I opened my eyes, it was a few minutes later & multiple people, including my dad, were standing over me. They decided it was ok if I finished the game, & a few minutes later the ball came soaring back at me & I put up my hands to shield myself & was penalized with a hand-ball. I almost threw a temper tantrum because I HAD JUST BEEN HIT IN THE HEAD WITH THE BALL. OF COURSE I'M GOING TO TRY TO BLOCK IT FROM HAPPENING AGAIN. In the end, our team didn't even finish the season because of "rain."
That was 19 years ago & I haven't attempted to do any other organized sport. While I'm more coordinated now, I just don't have a desire or a competitive streak to get me to do it. Do I wish I had become a soccer legend? Absolutely. But I didn't. What did end up happening is a few months later I started playing piano & taking art classes. I was good at both of them, & then a few years later that I started doing community theater. Everyone has their own thing & while none of those things are still my thing, they were back then.
Friday, February 13, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
My Pet
We aren't allowed to have pets of any kind in my apartment complex (obviously they've never met my roommates).
A few months ago I found a dead bug next to my desk; he appeared to be deader than dead. I put him in a paper towel & took him to the trash can in my room. In transit, it felt like he was moving & lo & behold, he was. Homeboy immediately started crawling around. I freaked out a little & sprayed him with some cleaner but immediately felt guilty so I walked away hoping to never see him again.
When I got back from work that night I checked the trash can & he was gone; I figured that he had just fallen further down into the trash & I called it a day. The next day, however, guess who is back in the same exact spot next to my desk: Homeboy. I was freaked out so I immediately went to the Wikipedias to investigate. It turns out that the species of bug that Homeboy is hibernates during winter, & I guess there's a certain spot that they're drawn to (in this case, the area between my desk & my TV). I didn't have the heart to kill him, or put him outside, so....he's just been chilling in my room. He's kind of turned into my pet, to be honest. I know it makes me sound like I'm crazier than a shit-house rat, but knowing Homeboy is in here makes me feel a little less lonely.
Today I checked on him & saw that he was on his back. I really hope that was a defense mechanism & he isn't really dead. I'm going to leave him there for a little while longer until it starts warming up to see if he springs back to life or if he really is dead.
God, I sound crazy.
Friday, February 6, 2015
Maybe
So the past few days, on top of being sick, I've noticed that I was developing a rash in my left armpit. That is pretty common due to having very sensitive skin, but this time it itched like a mother fucker. Then it opened up & started oozing. I went to the doctor after work & found out...
I have a staph infection.
She gave me a prescription for bactrim & told me to get some hydrocortisone cream & hopefully it will clear up in a few days.
While I was waiting for my prescription to be filled, I was walking around Target, just looking at the things. I found my way over to the towels, then the curtains, then lighting. Sometimes when I'm at stores like Target (actually just Target because I don't go to Wal-Mart unless I'm in dire need) I enjoy looking at the selections for home furnishings & imagine what it's like to have a big boy job, make big boy money, & live in a big boy apartment/house. Granted, I'm making strides to move up the corporate coffee ladder, but it's still something I think about. Maybe have a pet, nicer car, actual curtains & furniture that matches.
Maybe in the future. Maybe not.
I have a staph infection.
She gave me a prescription for bactrim & told me to get some hydrocortisone cream & hopefully it will clear up in a few days.
While I was waiting for my prescription to be filled, I was walking around Target, just looking at the things. I found my way over to the towels, then the curtains, then lighting. Sometimes when I'm at stores like Target (actually just Target because I don't go to Wal-Mart unless I'm in dire need) I enjoy looking at the selections for home furnishings & imagine what it's like to have a big boy job, make big boy money, & live in a big boy apartment/house. Granted, I'm making strides to move up the corporate coffee ladder, but it's still something I think about. Maybe have a pet, nicer car, actual curtains & furniture that matches.
Maybe in the future. Maybe not.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Get Down With The Sickness
Oh hey. I'm glad you're reading this, especially since I haven't updated since October.
My big homey over at The Gancer & I are trying to keep each other accountable for writing more frequently, so we're going to try to alternate days. Hopefully that will keep the creative juices flowing.
Unfortunately, that isn't the only juice that's been flowing from me for the past week. And by that, I mean snot. I was sick about 3 weeks ago for a few days but seemed to recover pretty quickly, but then last Thursday I started getting that feeling in my throat. Then on Thursday night/Friday morning I couldn't sleep because my legs kept kicking (something that almost always signals when I'm getting sick for some reason). After work on Friday I got some preventative care stuff; I had been scheduled off on Saturday & Sunday without even asking for it & while I had literally not a damn thing to do, I didn't want to be sick.
Medicine didn't work. Sick.
I woke up around 4:30 Saturday morning unable to swallow & having a hard time breathing because my throat was so sore. Then the aches & the tingles started. That was basically my life Saturday & Sunday, punctuated by randomly falling asleep, taking hot showers to make my tingles stop & loosen the mucus, & listening to the same Fleetwood Mac song over & over. Monday I had to work & I was pretty irritable & my throat was still sore. I was off Tuesday & I slept in & my throat was still sore.
Now it's Wednesday. My throat is still somewhat sore, I have a lot of congestion, & I'm still weak. If I'm not better by Friday I'm going to the doctor.
Yes, I'm very aware that this might be one of THE MOST boring posts ever written by anyone, but I'm just going to blame it on my sickness.
My big homey over at The Gancer & I are trying to keep each other accountable for writing more frequently, so we're going to try to alternate days. Hopefully that will keep the creative juices flowing.
Unfortunately, that isn't the only juice that's been flowing from me for the past week. And by that, I mean snot. I was sick about 3 weeks ago for a few days but seemed to recover pretty quickly, but then last Thursday I started getting that feeling in my throat. Then on Thursday night/Friday morning I couldn't sleep because my legs kept kicking (something that almost always signals when I'm getting sick for some reason). After work on Friday I got some preventative care stuff; I had been scheduled off on Saturday & Sunday without even asking for it & while I had literally not a damn thing to do, I didn't want to be sick.
Medicine didn't work. Sick.
I woke up around 4:30 Saturday morning unable to swallow & having a hard time breathing because my throat was so sore. Then the aches & the tingles started. That was basically my life Saturday & Sunday, punctuated by randomly falling asleep, taking hot showers to make my tingles stop & loosen the mucus, & listening to the same Fleetwood Mac song over & over. Monday I had to work & I was pretty irritable & my throat was still sore. I was off Tuesday & I slept in & my throat was still sore.
Now it's Wednesday. My throat is still somewhat sore, I have a lot of congestion, & I'm still weak. If I'm not better by Friday I'm going to the doctor.
Yes, I'm very aware that this might be one of THE MOST boring posts ever written by anyone, but I'm just going to blame it on my sickness.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Mr. Bailey
Well, I'm still going to community college.
That in & of itself has provided numerous ridiculous situations, but none of them have fully encapsulated the community college "experience" as one student in particular who is in my Trace Evidence class. On the first day of class this semester, he strolled into the classroom late, which is his M.O. every day. My instructor didn't use his first name, & only referred to him as "Mr. Bailey." Well, Mr. Bailey, a young man around my age, sat in front of me to the right, & multiple times throughout the period he would fling his arms back to stretch & almost hit me in the head; it was then that I noticed each & every one of his fingernails was about half an inch longer than the tip of his finger. During this first class, Mr. Bailey would interrupt the instructor to ask questions that didn't really pertain to the subject matter (in this case, since it was the first day of class, the syllabus). At one point he asked how many credits he needed to shoot a gun.
Oh.
Over the next few weeks I learned quite a few things about Mr. Bailey, such as the fact that he procreated, wouldn't participate in group lab assignments due to being in a fugue state & wandering all over the classroom, & that he enjoyed coming to class high as a kite (this last one I learned the hard way, when I realized I had a contact high while sitting about 7 feet away from him).
But Mr. Bailey's finest moment came this past Thursday, on September 18, 2014. While it was a ridiculous day in many other instances (which may or may not garner a post of their own), the highlight was definitely courtesy of Mr. Bailey. We were doing a lab where we split into groups & tried to match hairs under a microscope. Since this required participation, Mr. Bailey wandered around the classroom, picking up random objects. On the other side of the room from where I was is a pulley that activates a decontamination shower, since this is a science lab. At one point I look over to where Mr. Bailey was & saw him walk right up to the lever, pull it, & release the water on himself. At first I just stared in shock, then turned around to look at the older gentleman who sits by me; he just stared back at me.
Then there was total silence from everyone.
Then laughter.
Then our instructor, a former homicide detective, yelled, "MR. BAILEY! FIRST OF ALL, PULL UP YOUR DAMN PANTS! SECOND, CLEAN UP THIS MESS! GRAB SOME PAPER TOWELS & CLEAN THIS UP! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Mr. Bailey was so shocked/embarrassed that he couldn't talk & instead of going for the paper towels he tried to use a roll of paper (I actually felt bad for him about that). As he was leaving the room our instructor said, "Folks, this is why you don't do drugs."
And that's the moral of the story.
That in & of itself has provided numerous ridiculous situations, but none of them have fully encapsulated the community college "experience" as one student in particular who is in my Trace Evidence class. On the first day of class this semester, he strolled into the classroom late, which is his M.O. every day. My instructor didn't use his first name, & only referred to him as "Mr. Bailey." Well, Mr. Bailey, a young man around my age, sat in front of me to the right, & multiple times throughout the period he would fling his arms back to stretch & almost hit me in the head; it was then that I noticed each & every one of his fingernails was about half an inch longer than the tip of his finger. During this first class, Mr. Bailey would interrupt the instructor to ask questions that didn't really pertain to the subject matter (in this case, since it was the first day of class, the syllabus). At one point he asked how many credits he needed to shoot a gun.
Oh.
Over the next few weeks I learned quite a few things about Mr. Bailey, such as the fact that he procreated, wouldn't participate in group lab assignments due to being in a fugue state & wandering all over the classroom, & that he enjoyed coming to class high as a kite (this last one I learned the hard way, when I realized I had a contact high while sitting about 7 feet away from him).
But Mr. Bailey's finest moment came this past Thursday, on September 18, 2014. While it was a ridiculous day in many other instances (which may or may not garner a post of their own), the highlight was definitely courtesy of Mr. Bailey. We were doing a lab where we split into groups & tried to match hairs under a microscope. Since this required participation, Mr. Bailey wandered around the classroom, picking up random objects. On the other side of the room from where I was is a pulley that activates a decontamination shower, since this is a science lab. At one point I look over to where Mr. Bailey was & saw him walk right up to the lever, pull it, & release the water on himself. At first I just stared in shock, then turned around to look at the older gentleman who sits by me; he just stared back at me.
Then there was total silence from everyone.
Then laughter.
Then our instructor, a former homicide detective, yelled, "MR. BAILEY! FIRST OF ALL, PULL UP YOUR DAMN PANTS! SECOND, CLEAN UP THIS MESS! GRAB SOME PAPER TOWELS & CLEAN THIS UP! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Mr. Bailey was so shocked/embarrassed that he couldn't talk & instead of going for the paper towels he tried to use a roll of paper (I actually felt bad for him about that). As he was leaving the room our instructor said, "Folks, this is why you don't do drugs."
And that's the moral of the story.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Just A Few Things
Today at work sucked. I came in & things were in total disarray. Tons of customers & things were just a mess. Plus, customers were pretty rude most of the night. But by the end of it my co-workers & I had gotten into a pretty decent groove & left about 15 minutes earlier than what the norm is.
Something that happened near the beginning of my shift though was my old manager coming by to pick some stuff up. I miss him so much. I miss my old store. I think in the longterm my transfer was a good move but right now I just miss how things used to be.
Also, closer to the end of the night, my old landlord came by. Definitely didn't need that at all. It just made me sad that I was basically forced out of his house, which was so reasonably priced & centrally located, & now live back with my parents an hour away. But I'm not bitter. Not at all.
On another note, school is going well. My former co-worker finally talked to me & I'm settling in nicely with my professors it seems. I did find out that one of them uses crime scene photos from local murders so I need to ask if any are of my aunt's murder. Because while I think I'd be ok reading a report on it, I think I'd be ok if I never had to see any photos of her dead. But that just may be me.
Well, I think I'm off to sleep. I'm working at another store tomorrow night so I need to be well-rested to show those honey boo boo's how it's done.
Peace.
Something that happened near the beginning of my shift though was my old manager coming by to pick some stuff up. I miss him so much. I miss my old store. I think in the longterm my transfer was a good move but right now I just miss how things used to be.
Also, closer to the end of the night, my old landlord came by. Definitely didn't need that at all. It just made me sad that I was basically forced out of his house, which was so reasonably priced & centrally located, & now live back with my parents an hour away. But I'm not bitter. Not at all.
On another note, school is going well. My former co-worker finally talked to me & I'm settling in nicely with my professors it seems. I did find out that one of them uses crime scene photos from local murders so I need to ask if any are of my aunt's murder. Because while I think I'd be ok reading a report on it, I think I'd be ok if I never had to see any photos of her dead. But that just may be me.
Well, I think I'm off to sleep. I'm working at another store tomorrow night so I need to be well-rested to show those honey boo boo's how it's done.
Peace.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
First Day
Today was my first day of class. For the first time in about 3 1/2 years, I had to actually sit in a classroom rather than try to stay engaged in an online setting. To be honest, I quite enjoyed it. One of the worst aspects of doing my Master's online was how disengaged it all was. While we had discussion boards that would force us to interact, there's only so much that will accomplish. Plus, it helps having the professor right there in front of you. Also I hated the thought of having my name associated with the cesspool that is Liberty University.
The first class that I took was Ethics & Community Relations. That's going to be about as exciting as an Ethics class will ever be. My night class was Constitutional Law. Again....about as exciting as a class about the constitution is going to be. But my afternoon class, the one I've been looking forward to the most: crime scene processing. We didn't do jack shit today but I'm so excited. There's also a lady in there named Queennez & I can't wait to learn more about her.
On a weirder note, there's a girl in that class that I knew as a teenager. We worked together at the movie theater & have been Facebook friends for a while; we've even been in communication since I enrolled in the program because I knew she was also in it. Guess what. Didn't even acknowledge me (not that I said anything to her but she's the more senior individual here. She should be taking me under her wing). Whatevs.
On a sentimental note, it's weird being back on that campus. When I stopped home schooling & went to the alternative high school, it was on that campus. I then took 2 years worth of classes there before transferring to Toccoa. So much of the campus has changed but in other ways it's still the same shit hole I remember. Some of the faces are familiar (professors, librarians, & janitors), but overall it's totally different. And I'm not some 17-19 year old kid anymore. Now I'm a 27 year old man-child living with his parents & commuting an hour to work at a damn coffee shop/bageleria. I've lived in 2 other states, graduated college, almost graduated graduate school, lost 2 grandparents, & lived with a roommate who filmed gay bondage porn in our basement. In some ways I feel like I've made several steps back by returning to community college but since the crime scene investigation field is one I'm actually interested in, this will hopefully be several more steps in the right direction.
The first class that I took was Ethics & Community Relations. That's going to be about as exciting as an Ethics class will ever be. My night class was Constitutional Law. Again....about as exciting as a class about the constitution is going to be. But my afternoon class, the one I've been looking forward to the most: crime scene processing. We didn't do jack shit today but I'm so excited. There's also a lady in there named Queennez & I can't wait to learn more about her.
On a weirder note, there's a girl in that class that I knew as a teenager. We worked together at the movie theater & have been Facebook friends for a while; we've even been in communication since I enrolled in the program because I knew she was also in it. Guess what. Didn't even acknowledge me (not that I said anything to her but she's the more senior individual here. She should be taking me under her wing). Whatevs.
On a sentimental note, it's weird being back on that campus. When I stopped home schooling & went to the alternative high school, it was on that campus. I then took 2 years worth of classes there before transferring to Toccoa. So much of the campus has changed but in other ways it's still the same shit hole I remember. Some of the faces are familiar (professors, librarians, & janitors), but overall it's totally different. And I'm not some 17-19 year old kid anymore. Now I'm a 27 year old man-child living with his parents & commuting an hour to work at a damn coffee shop/bageleria. I've lived in 2 other states, graduated college, almost graduated graduate school, lost 2 grandparents, & lived with a roommate who filmed gay bondage porn in our basement. In some ways I feel like I've made several steps back by returning to community college but since the crime scene investigation field is one I'm actually interested in, this will hopefully be several more steps in the right direction.
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