Slugged with insight.
I went to H-E-B last night at 1:30 a.m. I needed to get tomatoes for a tuna salad I was making for lunch the next day (don't ask, I was just bored). An hour quickly passed in the circuitous lanes of H-E-B and I ended up leaving with a little more than just tomatoes. I think it was around eight bags or so of groceries.
Getting back to the house I remembered that I had to park on the neighbor's curb, because our house really doesn't have one (just a gutter opening) and because our lot is taken up by three cars already, all of which leave earlier than me in the morning.
Seeing as how it was 2:45 in the morning, I was determined to make it to the front door in one trip. I hate making second trips. I will fill every inch of space on my arm, even if it means cutting off my circulation or permanent bruising, just to make it in one trip. That's just the way I am. Something in me just prefers taking one-almost unbearable-huge load that lots of little bearable ones. I thought to myself, "Okay Becca, it's freakishly scary outside so you can do this. If you stack six bags on the right arm, and two on the left, that leaves your left hand free to open the door."
So as I started my little endeavor to the front door, everything that could go wrong
went wrong. Just five steps from the car, the bag carrying the three-liter cokes broke. "Crap," I muffled to myself. I had to set all the bags down to scurry after the two three-liters I dropped, and in vain mind you, because I lost one to the gutter anyway. After restacking my arms appropriately I cut through the neighbor's lawn and into mine as a short cut to the door.
I was glad to see I was nearly to the stepping stones of my house, because the marsy lawn had wet the hems of my pants (I guess the neighbors sprinklers had gone off while I was at the store, because I didn't remember it raining). Upon taking the first stepping stone though, since the soles of my shoes were well lubricated by now, I lost my step somehow and slipped just enough to sprain my ankle. "Oh, brother! Come on!" Pain. Pain. Lots of pain. And the bags were really cutting into my skin at this point.
I plodded wearily the rest of the way. But one last thing was destined to piss-me-off, I could feel it. Probably due to a combination of frustration, pain, light-headedness, fatigued-arms, nervousness, anxiousness, and impatience...the frickin key would not go in right. I twisted. I turned. I pushed. I pulled. I forced. I swayed. I think I even prayed for God to open the blasted door. All the while, still holding all eight bags of groceries. The keys fell to the ground, but not before piercing my toes. I was about to throw the bags to the ground in my anger, when a slimy trail, where the keys had fallen by my toes, caught my eye.
I followed the mucus-based trail with my eyes just a few inches behind me where they subsequently met with an enormous slug. It's rudimentary shell was in desperate need of upgrading. It looked more like a pimple against the amoeboid-body-like mass. And I most certainly would have smashed it had I thrown down the heavy grocery bags. It looked like it was having enough trouble on it's own without me smashing it to smithereens.
Although the slimy trail was a few inches behind me when I spotted it, the origin was far off the porch out of sight. The slug seemed to be crawling away as fast as it could from some super-ants following close behind it. The ants were picking up speed, but the only thing the slug was picking up was dirt grains. A sense of compassion came over me like nothing I've ever felt. I picked it up, hastily flicking at an ant that had already started feasting on it, and moved it to where I thought was safe. The super-ants from behind just scattered, as though disoriented and perplexed.
I finished the tuna salad and put away the groceries, never devoting a single thought to the obstacles on my way to the front door, only thinking about the slug...wondering if it were still safe. There's no point to the story, other than coming to the realization that I liked saving the slug. And how a simple quest to complete a tuna salad could lead to such insight. I slept well that night.
Crassitude
Gosh. I don't know what's come over me lately. I've been, well, not myself. Talking smack behind Zuriel's back is just the start. But I don't really consider it "smack" because I'm telling the truth and my blog is just a way of venting. Right? Anyone care to comment? It's not like I'm directly spreading rumors around to where it would really take effect.
And then I've been kinda of mean to people. I bought Salt and Vinegar chips for my brother the other night, well for all of us, but especially for him because he lovvvvvves Salt and Vinegar flavor, and when he opened the bag and started munching I said petulantly, "we're not eating the whole bag today, Leo." He said, "Yes we are." And then I said, "well, I'll just take those back then." And I did. And they are on the shelf still. Uneaten. All alone. Begging to be eaten. By us. But everyone refuses to eat them because we all have our pride. Especially me.
Then, I was eating some pound cake I bought from H-E-B, sitting on the coach next to Zuriel while watching a movie. He looked at me with big puppy eyes and vague but very visible druel on the corner of his mouth, "So what's that your eating?" I said bluntly, "Well, It's just regular pound cake and if you want some you can get some from the kitchen table." BAM. Just like that. No offering or sharing. He said, "Well, I just want a little piece." And I said, "Well, then you can go get some if you want it bad enough." :-( But let me explain...it's just that I really felt like getting back at him from earlier that day for making fun of me because I didn't know what the word
crass meant. So, I got defensive. Sue me. Gosh but I should be the better person. I'm failing all these tests God is sending my way.
I really feel that way too. It's as if God sent us Zuriel for practice. Gods says,"Well, Rebecca here is you exact polar opposite in every way. If I were to create a person that would be a thorn in your flesh the rest of your days, this would be him. Egotistical, boastful, patronizing, womenizer, lukewarm, insincere. Now let's see what you're gonna do about it." Did I pass? Uh-uh.
So. Uh. I don't know what to do?...Why have I been so crass lately? (
Yes. That's right. I know what the word means. NOW.). Well, all I can say is this too shall pass. hopefully.
p.s. crass-So crude and unrefined as to be lacking in discrimination and sensibility.
Of Johny Bravo and the like...
These past couple of days have been torture. Zuriel is most annoying. He's reached a new level of idiocy and tactlessness. Not to mention a new hobby he has for pointing out every chic that is supposedly "checking him out." Ugh.
I just don't know where he gets the energy to beef himself up so much. You know, initially I though it was because he was insecure. But now, I thinks it's because he genuinely believes that girls "dig" that. He thinks he has us ladies all figured out. Well, in my opinion he wouldn't know what pleases a girl if it were a snake and bit him! Ugh.
He was telling me the other day about his girlfriend, his
asian girlfriend, and how she was voted the hottest asian on campus at southwestern and how all the guys give him dirty looks because he was able to snatch her up and they weren't. I mean, he actually said something like this, "I'm so good looking, that the other guys can't admit it. Guys cannot admit if someone is more good-looking than them." And then he says he likes to slip his number here and there just to see if the girls will call him. Not that he's going to go out with them, but he just likes to know that he can...you know, to satiate his ego.
He tries to educate me on how men think and fuction. He tells me they are all dogs, whether they claim to be Christian or not. ha. I know. Anyways, it reminded me of what my dearest cousin Debbie told me one afternoon over spring break vacation, "Don't ever say, 'oh, no, not my boyfriend, he's different, he's Christian.' Yeah, right! You better believe they're Christian and they like lots of Christian-sex!" So back to the Johny Bravo character...
Zuriel
actually knows my cousin Debbie. We are all from the Valley, so we all grew up together in those crucial toddler years to ensure a lifetime of connection between our parents. He's kinda like my cousin too. Infact, Zuriel's mom insists we call her Tia (Aunt), although there is no relation through blood or marriage. My mom and his mom are best friends from Bible College in Edinburg. Over the years, Zuriel's mom tried three times to have a little girl, but God gave her all boys. As a result, she told my mother that she insists I call her Tia so that I can be the little girl she never had. Bless her heart. We put up with Zuriel just for her and nothing else. She's such a sweetheart...I don't know why Zuriel came out all backwards.
Family Matters
My mom is rarely home. She works by day and attends church meetings by night. And by the time I get home after work she's in bed, having left supper for me on the counter. I actually had to call her the other day at work and start off the convo with, "Hi, my name is Rebecca, nice to meet you." She laughed. I didn't say what I said in a peevish manner, but more so in a reflective way. I mean, it amazes me how sometimes you can live with a person and yet not "cross-roads"-if you will-for weeks. I literally had not talked to my mother in two weeks. We just kept missing each other.
As a result, the bond between my father and I is at an all time high. I actually spend a lot of time with him, more than I paid heed to initially. Rides, eating out, counsel, small talk, advice, joking around, watching t.v., reading, going to church, work, etc. I never realized how much I'd missed hanging out with him until now. Seems like entering high school somehow obviated the "Dad" position and since then had forgotten what the position had to offer. Good times.
And now, we've added another male force to our family. One of my mom's friend's son, Zuriel, is staying with us until he can move into his house. He's so peculiar. So reserved and quiet. Egotistical. I say he's egotistical because when he does talk it's like he's concentrating too much on diction-as to somehow heighten his vocabulary as much as possible-so as to appear erudite. Always stays in his room. But I guess you can expect that when someone is out their comfort-zone. Not me though, comfort-zone or not, I'm pretty loquacious. No fear. And my family is too. We are all so loud and affectionate and opinionated. We spell it out for eachother: how we want it, when we want; hence, evading any miscommunication. We are breaking him in though slowly, but surely. ha.
Zuriel is starting to do these "hip-checks" on me. I guess it's a tennis thing, because he always does it when we are all going to play tennis (him, my brother, and I). The first time he did it, it was at the asian-invasion at the tennis courts a couple of nights ago. He told me to lean in because he needed to tell me something (I thought he was going to make a remark about all the asian people and wanted to keep it discrete). So I leaned in, tilting my ear slightly towards his mouth as to catch a faint whisper, when I was preemptively stricken with a sharp jolt to the hip. He had knocked me over with his hip thrust. Ow!
"Hip-Check!" is all he said. I felt stupid. But now, he's doing it more-like "off" the tennis courts. As if I like it or something. As if I enjoy this sorry and painful excuse of a flirt. I think it's flirting. Not sure. Probably is. That's why I'm going to pretend I'm not noticing and purposely act obnoxious to attenuate any form of attractiveness I might possess.
Well. Better get back to finishing this work application. I'm rather pooped-to be honest-of job hunting. Thought I would take a little break.
Tennis and Ego
One of my mom's friend's son is staying with us for a couple of weeks until he can move into his home somewhere in Georgetown. He's 22. Just graduated from Southwestern University in Music. Zuriel, "my mom's friend's son", has a predilection for tennis. And so does my brother. I'm going to dare be different and say that I don't-like tennis, I mean. I pretty much abhore everything about tennis. When I picture tennis I picture some incredibly rich person from a hundred years ago trying to invent some sport to show off, thus suffice his ego, while attempting to maintain his attire as clean as possible. It might just be me, but tennis peoples give off this aura of insolence, which I find precarious, since tennis is such a pussy sport. I mean if you're going to be arrogant might as well be in a sport that deserves the word. Like soccer or hockey.
Anyways, back to what I was going to say, my brother and zuriel convinced me to go play tennis with them one evening at the connaly high school tennis courts. When we got there, the courts were occupied with I think the entire freakin asian population of Austin. I thought to myself, "now this is a minority group that's got it right!-When they are not studying they're keeping in shape. ha.
Nothing great really happened that night other than totally embarrassing myself by swinging at thin air nine times out of ten and feeding Zuriel's ego up to capacity. I sware. Like that's possible! Zuriel's ego is like nothing I've ever seen. I bet deep down inside his a big-squishy-vulnerable-little teddy bear, but for now the world must bear an ego-pandemic a while longer.
On the Job
I'm actually at work right now. My shift start promptly at 7:00 a.m. and all I can think about is how hungry I am. I'm usually not a breakfast eater. In fact, pretty much hate eating breakfast. My stomach hasn't woken-up, so it doesn't make sense for me to exact it's duty so early in the morning. It would be tantamount to when I have barely woken-up and being expected to remember what was said, asked, or commanded of me. It's just too early in the morning, so until I'm fully conscience, don't expect much. But today, for some reason, I'm especially hungry...or maybe I'm just thirsty. I read somewhere that 60% of the time your stomach growls is because your body needs water and not because your hungry. Hmmm? A little precarious, I might say. But whatev. Come to think of it I read it off some wellness and nutrition article or something of the sort.
So, I'm at work, but I've already told you that. And I'm hungry. Sleep. Sleepy. Wanting to sleep. Going to sleep. z z zzzzzz, wait a minute. Which reminds me. I can't believe I attempted to rhyme in my last blog-ugh! Grosse! Dork! I should stick to what I'm good at...like, telling people what to do-which is a very big responsibility mind you. I'm not bossy. I just, well lately anyway, tell people what to do and they listen. "Hey, you...do this and that and then some," and poof! Done! I think it's my commanding presence. Or the twitch in my eye with a slightly chipped tooth that might scare x-party into concession. Or the fact that I only pretty much give orders to those younger than me. I'm nice. Just thought I'll let you know before you go labeling me as a primitive gestapo.
I AM nice. SO nice, in fact, that I have to say it all the time to convince myself?!? But I must be. I hate sarcasm. I hate double meanings. Hate undertones. I'm absolutely livid everytime Jessika is sarcastic to Chai or CJ to Kai or Cris to Jessika or Jessika to Cris or CJ to Jessika and even me (when I catch myself). So, I must be nice if I'm trying to keep the peace, right? Musing. Have mused about it. Something to muse. Am finished musing. Yes. I believe I'm nice. Most of the time. Enough to cancel out all the times I explode.
Garrulous Ebullition
Semester is over. Went by quickly. Yet some more credit hours added to my never-ending chemistry degree plan.
Fulfilling semester though: liked my teachers, worked out, got some major biceps and triceps now, got rid of the love-handles, went on a couple of dates (that's another blog though), met some of my good friends from high school, read-alot-and saw the movies of what I read, finally ate a Lucy's Boat House next to Mozarts (YUMMY), lots of babysitting, got my car fixed, got inspection sticker, more involved in church lately, got my own insurance finally, and more stuff you really don't care about.
I especially loved this last Monday. CJ said she wanted to come to Austin to visit before she left for Brazil. I said I would go over there instead (since she's been here twice already). She introduced me to Vanessa, the newest addition to us crazy gals, and a sweetheart at that. Just a "girls-night-out" type fun. Didn't sleep at all that day.
Oh, sleep. How much I miss thee!!! Where have you been? Why do you take from me what only dreams can mend? I yearn a full nights repose an 80 year old lady has night after night. Sleep, you are my only console in this rapid-weary-circuitous life. Meet me tonight!
Favorite Qoutes of Harriet Beecher Stowe
I finished reading
Uncle Tom's Cabin, and next to
Of Mice and Men, this is by far one of my favorite books. I love the way she gave her characters depth and personality...anyways, she has a niche for wording things just the right way. Here are some of my favorite qoutes from the book (although there was many more!):
“ Ye who have wondered to hear, in the same evangel, that God is love, and that God is a consuming fire, se ye not how, to the resolved in evil, perfect love is the most fearful torture, the seal and sentence of the direst despair.” –Harriet Beecher Stowe
“Oh, with what freshness, what solemnity and beauty, is each new day born; as if to insensate man, ‘Behold! Thou has one more chance! Strive for immortal glory!’”—Harriet Beecher Stowe
“They say the alligator, the rhinoceros, though inclosed in bullet-proof mail, have each a spot where they are vulnerable; and fierce, reckless, unbelieving reprobates have commonly this point in superstitious dread.” –Harriet Beecher Stowe
“Oh, because I have had only that kind of benevolence which consist of lying on the sofa, and cursing the church and clergy for not being martyrs and confessors. One can see, you know, very easily, how others ought to be martyrs.”—Augustine St. Claire
“…Because now is the only time there ever is to do a thing in!” --Ophelia St. Claire
“For, so inconsistent is human nature, especially in the ideal, that not to undertake a thing at all seems better than to undertake and come short.” –Harriet Beecher Stowe
“It’s pretty generally understood that men don’t aspire to do the absolute right, but only to do about as well as the rest of the world.” –Augustine St. Claire
“For how imperiously, how coolly, in disregard of all one’s feeling, does the hard, cold, uninteresting course of daily realities move on!” –Harriet Beecher Stowe
“Dar an’t no sayin,” said Sam; “gals is peculiar; they never does nothin’ ye thinks they will; mose gen’lly the contrar. Gals is nat’lly made contrary; and so, if you thinks they’ve gone one road, it is sartin you’d better go t’ other, and then you’ ll be sure to find ‘em. Now, my private ‘pinion is, Lizy took der dirt road; so I think we ‘d better take de straight one.” –Sam (a 12 years old boy who’s precociousness has led him to a rather apocryphal generalization at such a young age. Now the validity to the generalization is, I'm sure some might say, disputable. I thought it was a little amusing.)P.S.-excuse the nerdiness this time around.
Mini High School Reunion
From Left: Carrie Morton, Kim Pham, Rebecca Flores
From Left: Lindsey Hoover, Lindsay Gordon, Carrie Morton, Kim Pham, Becca Flores
