My Reflection for the Day
The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed. --carl jung
I read this qoute, and I couldn't believe how pertinent it was to my life at this particular time. I love those that transform me for the better. I love relationships that give me a new perspective. I love meeting people that make me want to change those things in my life that weren't good for me from the get-go. I'm glad I got the chance to form some of the friendships that I did, because I'm better for it. Love you guys, you know who you are (or would you like a little hint?).
Just that simple.
Thotz of Long Hair...Reminiscing and Stuff
I've talked about my hair before. I believe it was my first blog. I shaved my widows peak waiting for a handyman to arrive at my apartment one morning. And now I will talk about my hair again. I guess because it's one of the few things that I do take seriously. I've never dyed it, colored or highlighted it, I rarely rarely blow dry. But every four years or so...
I hate my hair. I hate it. I feel ugly.
It used to be long, and now it's all gone. I cut if off every four years and donate it. I mean I'm glad about that part, but still, it's the same cycle every four years. I grow it, I cut it, I donate it, but then, I dread my hair for about two years until it's an acceptable length to my liking.
Nothing I wear, no makeup I can apply, no perfume I can spray on, will make me feel pretty until at least two years pass. To top it off, my uncles (My dad has 7 brothers, 4 of which live in Austin with us), who are very very very stuck in old-fashioned-cultural-roled-super-blunt-'claridoso'-ways of Mexico, love to tease me by calling me rebeco. BECAUSE WOMEN ARE SUPPOSED TO HAVE LONG HAIR, DISHONOR! Maybe I'm exaggerating a little...but the still find a way to rub in what they think of my hair any chance they get.
I miss it so...There were just so many things I could do with it: Make a bun, curl it, crimp it, half-ponytail, gel it, moose it, leave it flowing, high ponytail, roll curlers in, treat it, tease it, low ponytail, etc. And there were so many things that I could use if for: It was literally like my own human blanket, wipe things off, wack people with it, cover my arms, tie it, smell it, snuggle with it, tickle people with it, chew it, eat it, etc. (Kidding about the last two).
Now I look like a cross between a little-macedonial-hungry-girl-slash-egyptian-could-be-latina-nerdette-slash-might-be-twenty-or-so-but-still-reminds-me-of-a-little-girl-four-eyed-psycho hybrid. I hope these years go by swiftly.
Pranks on me
Okay, so I love playing pranks on people...but I LOVE it even more when they play pranks on me. Being the little sister, and the biggest dork in high school, I actually have learned to embrace the embarrassment of looking like a total idiot infront of everyone. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, you know, alive. Call me wierd, or whatever.
But lately, ever since a relay-call prank gone bad (which is totally another blog), no one has really tried to pull a prank on me. Until...
So I always hang out at the music building late at night, because thats when my favorite practice room, with the best piano, is available (RM 242). I went with intentions to jam a little, but to my dismay everything was locked.
Hmmm, how wierd? How peculiar? I could always count on the music building even on holidays. I drove around a little more and finally found an open door on the side of the music building.
I stumbled across even some more peculiarities though, when I arrived at the third floor and all the practice rooms were locked. boo. They're never locked. Hmmm, wierd (I prolly should have taken this as an ominous sign).
So anyways, all I really did was use the internet (my dial-up sucks, so I always try to use school internet) and just caught up on emails, facebook, myspace, blog, tmobile website, GTFCU banking, and all that jazz. Within a couple of hours (past midnight now), I finished everything and headed out.
As I was walking down the hallway though, I could see through the windows 2 people, with 2 very
skewedish-
grodyish derrieres I might add, conspicuously and decrepitely scuttling as fast as they could behind my LeSabre. "What tha...?" Seriously, though...did the freaks
really think that I didn't see them...I mean, they weren't discrete under any circumstances, they
know that
I saw them, right?
Honest to God, I didn't know what to think. I
just REALLY didn't know what to think...like, should I EVEN take this seriously?
I really didn't panic, but in the span of 3 seconds, a gazillion things ran through my head..."Who are they? What are they planning to do? Why aren't they moving? What could they possibly want? What if they have weapons? Is it really my time to die? etc." Before I knew it, I could hear the pacing of my heart in the back of my ear, it was so strong. I got a sooper potent dose of my favorite medicine, adrenaline! "Just think fast, think fast, act fast..." I thought to myself.
I quickly just turned around, trying to pretend like I didn't see anything...(after all I was still in the building, just looking through the double doors), and reached for my c.p. to call my big bro, and ask him what I should do. On my way back up the hall, I here my friend CJ screaming, "It's me Rebecca, It's me Camila!"
Whoa. I was pisst, elated, molested, sad, glad, relieved, thankful, and a whole bunch of other stuff that may not be appropriate for my PG-13- rated blog...ha. jk CJ.
I meet her at the door, along with Steele, frowned a little and gave her a big hug. I was just glad they weren't psycho killers. But in a way they both are
very much so psychoes, walking around at midnight when it's chilly outside. We all talked another minute or so. My knees were still knocking against eachother, when I walked to my car... Oh, what could have been, what might have been, just the thought still made me tremble. But All ended well. And I was totally kidding about their derrieres... they were very symetrical???!
Did I mention I love being pranked on?
New Years Lockout
For as long as I can remember, new years has always been celebrated at church. My mom is an ex-missionary in Canada, for 10 years, and my dad went to bible school in Edinburg...there was just no other conceivable way of celebrating new years other than at church. We start a vigilia at 6pm and it lasts all the way through midnight. And then we start to pray at 5 min. to midnight, right into new years, and then we hug and kiss and pretty much stay up all night. Big woop!?
I don't know, but after 18 years of the same thing, it kind of loses it's magic. Not that I don't appreciate God, or don't like the idea if starting a new year with prayer, or anything like that, just want to try something new, you know?
Well, I thought I would do things a little different in 2005 (just as good as any other year!?), and celebrate with a friend's family in Ft. Worth (Eva and Kay Jessica Hernandez, along with CJ). Despite my brother's laments and reprimand on how I am "betraying my family" by celebrating with another's and that this is the "ultimate dishonor"...I just refuse to accept the idea that me celebrating with another's family is indicative of any type of dishonor or inconsideration. Honestly, I just simply would like a new frame of reference, that's all, innocent really. And I was actually very excited about celebrating with Eva and Kay Jessica, especially since it happened.
Of course, knowing us girls, the excitement started right away. After getting introduced to the Hernandez family, CJ and I went back outside to get are things to get settled in. Suddently, CJ started freaking out because she totally forgot to call her parents in Brazil (they're four hours ahead, and she needed to wish them a happy new years before it was too late). CJ asked to use the phone, in which we all promptly turned around and headed back for the door.
CJ turned the knob, and nothing happened. She tried again, and still nothing happened. Next, Eva gave it a try (since she had the key and all)...she inserted the key and she turned and twisted to the point of almost giving her palm and indian burn; still the stubborn knob wouldn't turn.
Now, I have been known (once or twice) in my lifetime to have the gift of magic fingers. I am the one that everyone asks to pop open a can of soda, or twist open a pickle jar, or thread a needle, knotting the most bloaded water balloon, or finding that exact spot on your back that needs scratching, or breaking the knot on your back that no one else can find...etc. So, I just knew that as soon as I had a shot at opening the door, it would almost, and most likely, willingly open for me.
Blast!
Yeah, the blasted bluthering of blastiosity of a knob wouldn't open for the life of me. For no apparent reason at all, the door had locked and we couldn't get it open. The clock was ticking before midnight in Brazil, so us chicas put are three heads together in our indefinite and arduous pilgrimage to the inside of the house.
The first thing that came to mind of course was to scream (surprised?). We prolly l
ooked like pyscho ditzes to the neighbors, trying to get someone's attention to open the door for us by screeching as loud as we could. We tried climbing the trash can, jumping the fence, opening the garage and walking through the piled files and boxes, we tried out smarting an aggressive canine to try to get to the other side, we tried calling on our cell phones...nothing! Kay Jessica couldn't even open the door from the inside. She called her fiance over (from wherever he was in Houston, wk?, hm?), with the tool box, cuz all we could do now was break the door down!
The story ends well: no breaking of any doors, and a timely call made to Brazil. Oh yeah, and are throats...they're okay too! Turns out Kay Jessica just has a wimpy grip, a sooper dooper wimpy grip, cuz when we finally got inside the house through a back door, we opened the front door from the inside with ease. Welcome to the Hernandez's, where nothing can ever surprise you!
Nick Smith smells like coffee
Okay, so I though it would be funny. Well, at least in sounded funny in my head. I rea
lly didn't see it coming, although I should have, because these things love to come my way. I've had a revelation actually fro
m this event, and I know
now that my "becca blunders" have nothing to do with God's great sense of humor anymore...most of the time, it's just my own psychoness. ha!
Hmmm, well, I was walking back to my cubicle when I saw a halloween-type-scary-hand aparatus thing, as I was turning the corner. Wait, let me explain this a little better. The toy was of the kind that you turn on with a little switch...the arm looks real to begin with, then you got the drooling-fake blood running down the arm...all you need to do is then turn it on with a flick of your finger...oh, ever so scary!!! The boney-arthritic stricken fingers twisted and swayed in a macabre-witch-murderous-type way...I couldn't resist, I had to play a little prank.
Me and Nick carpool to Dell, so we came in early for overtime. We sat upstairs this time with another manager, Amy Lesperance, so I thought a little prank before getting on the phones wouldn't hurt...especially since our
real manager wasn't present. I crept up close to his cubicle, on the opposite side, and I could here that he was already trying to close a sale (I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to totally freak him out). Yeah, well, huh...sort of didn't happen like I expected.
I quickly put the fake arm on the railing of the cubicle and tried hard to turn the switch on. Needless to say, I tried a little too hard to turn the switch on...and I just ended up totally dropping it flat on his desk. What I didn't know was that Nick had a full 16oz styrofoam cup of coffee, which of course spilled all over his pants. I sware, not even a drop landed on his desk! Everything gladly splattered all over his pants.
Now Nick Smith smells like coffee, all shift long, all day long, coffee, coffee, coffee. He didn't even get mad at me. Wow. He prolly wanted to smack me across the face, but didn't cuz I'm a girl (or whatever). I'm surprised we still get along after that little incident. O'well. He got new pants, thats all that matters.
The Yellow Jacket Surprise
We just got o
ut of Sunday morning church, when an acute hunger came over me and CJ, simultaneously, after finishing small talk with fellow members. I mean, it was to be expected, because we didn't even eat donuts that morning in Sunday School, and we always eat donuts. I like donuts, a lot, but I forgot to eat some. We've been visiting way too much, so that's prolly why I forgot! ha.
So we had been on the access road a good mile or so, when all of the sudden I feel a light brush of wind against my ear, accompanied with a rather agitating buzz. The baby hairs around my ear, as well as the cilia of my basilar membrane of my
freakin conchlea, flew up. No kidding.
And so that you understand the degree of queeryness I felt from this aberrant and rather noteworthy noise, I will have to do a trifle amount of explaining. Now, every average american knows that humans can here sound waves between 20-20,000 Hz. This buzz was by far at the extreme end of 20,000Hz! The buzz was like freakin 130 dB, kind of like when a jet flies by, however so fast that is was a soft as a whisper. I really don't know if this makes any sense to you, but basically what I want to say is that upon hearing the buzz...I was confused. Like, "What the H? "
The next thing you know, we see a yellow jacket squirming on the dashboard of the car.
Now, CJ is one of the most gurliest girls that I have ever met, but that day, in that moment, in that particular place, on that hot Sunday afternoon, there was not an ounce of
gurlyavity in her screaming. It was almost anti-climatic, practically atypical...instead, she let out a boisterous wail that a 300lb-overweight-bearded-russian might make. I, on the other hand, spat out screams in 2 second intervals, and in harmony with the yellow jacket's squirming. I practically put a beat to it! We were dazed and confused, and honest to God freakin scared for our lives! We practically wet ourselves?!
Thanks to our quick thinking (NOT), we wailed and grunted for another 2 minutes before turning into a residential street, while swirving around 20 mph on the access road. As soon as we came to a stop, all I could think about was survival!
Didn't even think twice, just jumped out of the car and onto the side-road, meanwhile I still heard CJ wailing in the background swinging her arms around like a crazy lady with her seatbelt still fastened. I kind of felt bad that I didn't like, look back or anthing, just jolted for the curve and out of the car. I could help it, I just wanted to survive! Trust me, you would do the same thing!
Anyways, when CJ gave me the "OK," she said that the bee went straight to her face, (that little booger), but when she opened the window the little fellow just flew out. OMG. Talk about wierd things that happen.
"Okay, this is wierd, this is the
second time this happens...how do the
freakin bees get inside your car,
how do they get in?" I asked CJ.
All she says, in utter sweetheartedness, "It's just that I'm so sweet!"
The end.
