Remorse Comes Slowly
I should desperately be working on homework, but I'm so absolutely livid and distracted that I have to blog about it.
I made at least three laps around ACC before I found someone backing out of their parking spot. To top it off, I had to wait patiently for them to get in, set everything in place, look at themselves in the mirror, fiddle around some more, and finally turn the ignition on.
As the car was about three quarters out, some bozo with his longhorn-stickered-black Tahoe decided to cut me off and take my spot. I thought to myself, "Oh
noooo!"
He thought I was going to go away, and to be honest with you so did I, but that was until I saw this nicely suited gentleman with a nice-sleek-black blazer and hush puppies slip out of the car.
"Okay now, " I thought, "not only is he from UT publicly rubbing it in everybodies faces by having
stupid stickers ubiquitously spread over his
stupid Tahoe, knowing that we are all trying to get into UT, but he has to be well-dressed too. I don't think so!" It pisst me off that my arch enemy was a handsome man and not an ugly-stinky-ogre. I opened my window, got close to his car, and said, "I was going to park there...didn't you see my blinker?" (He ignored me). So, seeing as to how he showed me no signs of remorse, I got out of my car and made sure he understood how important it was to feel remorse when you do something bad.
"Hey," I said," I was going to park there. How do you
feel? You feel real
good, feel like a
man knowing that you cut off some girl trying to get to class? [kept rambling to him...] Oh yeah, I bet you feel
real good, feeling
real great, huh?...
because, you know, it looks like your feeling SO good, that it matches really well with that blazer you got on. yeah. It goes real well with those hush puppies too!" (The whole time waving my finger around and the other hand nestled on my hip). I felt good, I needed to get that off my chest.
I got back into my car (I had left the emergency lights on), and glanced back at him before I sped off. He was taking off his blazer, placing it on the seat in his car. "Well, good riddance," I thought. But not really, after two minutes or so all I could think of was that apoplectic face he wore at the end of my grandioso speech (which still was actually a tincy bit delightful from his nonchalantacity from before). But not really. I'm surprised he didn't get a heart-attack.
That wasn't the last I saw of him though, which was really ironic because it took me at least another five minutes before I found another parking space. As I was approaching the double doors to ACC, I noticed the same "gentleman" that took my spot approaching from the opposite direction.
He saw me second, after I saw him, and looked at me with a more remorseful visage this time around. As though to redeem himself, he walked a little faster to open the door for me. I stopped right in front of the door until he made eye-contact with me, and said, "Well, it's good to know that you at
least possess an ounce of chivalry...thanks"...and walked off.
No Surprise
I was a little dissapointed with spring break to Mexico this year because while I had a full itinerary the whole week, nothing really exciting happened. It's just one of those vacations where your everywhere doing everything, yet at the end of they day you still feel that there is something left to do.
CJ and I spoke briefly the week before about her bringing our little group of friends over to spend a day with me in Austin. I didn't think anything of it, really. I mean, friends tell me all the time, "Oh, I wanna come over," or, "We should get together some time, I'll give you a call," and to my surprise, (NOT), no get-togethers or calls ever happen. What mumbo jumbo. But unlike most people, CJ keeps her word.
So she calls me at midnight the day I get back from Mexico telling me she's coming over with Phillip in the morning. OMGOSH. I start cleaning my house and restroom, running to Wal-Mart for snacks/drinks, waking up my dad to help make a list of supplies for barbecue and activites, mapping out Austin, txt messaging everyone to bring quarters for meters...I've never hauled butt like I hauled butt that night. It was great.
Now if you have ever hung out with me, you know that I have the wierdest-shadiest-most-random things happen (for some reason?). CJ is well accostumed, but I hope Phillip didn't get too freaked out.
Everything started out fine...they walked in, we sat at the table, and my mom placed the freshly-baked biscuits on top of the stove for cooling. We quickly got to chatting and reminiscing. It was a good 15-20 minutes of conversation when we see my mom histerically sprinting from the livingroom towards us. She had a dish towel in her hand as if waving a white flag for surrender and wailing out my name, "Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca!!!!!"
We all turned around only to witness a fire completely devouring our ever-so-freshly-baked-golden-brown-pillsbury-biscuits. I don't know about CJ or Phil, but my life flashed before my eyes, subsequently followed by a blanket of yellow blurring my vision. I got up, but I didn't know what to do (I mean, I started fanning the flame for crying out loud, exactly what NOT to do).
When my mom caught up I got out of the way, layed back, relaxed, and watched in awe. I got to witness firsthand the power of my mom. "Man, " I thought, "...look at her go." She put out the fire with her handy-dandy dish towel, through the biscuits, tossed the pan, and cleaned the stove in a span of 3 minutes. By the time I opened the garage door, my Super-Mom had already opened the rest of the windows. Holy cow!
After everything was said and done, we really weren't surprised. If anything, we were mildly perplexed that it happened within just an hour of "Becca" presence, ha. While my mom poundered the poltergeistiality of the event (since the oven was off and everything), I mourned the passing away of the blessed pan we owned for so many years.
O'well, that just gives me an excuse to go shopping [wink, wink].
The Guilt Trip is Effective
I have been working since I was 15 years old. Crazy times, let me tell you! My first job was actually a "hook-up" from my grandpa. He worked at Symetry Corp. for some construction company and they urgently needed a receptionist [cha-ching]. So there I go, all unexperienced, to my very first job, mondays thru fridays, and starting at 6 o'clock in the morning. Worse yet, it was during the summer! What was I thinking??!
Most people that know me have probably put two and two together and realized this job isn't quite my cup of tea. I'm too restless to be sitting on my booty all day long and mailing stuff. Leo gets
so mad at me sometimes because he says I can never sit all the way through a movie (I'm either getting up to go to the restroom, clipping my nails, sudoking, crocheting, getting a snack, excercising, fiddling with my hair, plucking my eyebrows, and what not). It's his explanation for why I never remember anything and why I have to watch the movie three of four times before I can even qoute it. WHA' EVER. Anyways, back to what I was talking about...
I pretty much blew it within a couple of weeks. Summer jobs at six in the morning are retarded. It's just not feasible to be in bed by ten and rested for the morning during Summer break. I tried to pull off that trick from high school where you put a book right infront of your face during "reading time" to pretend your reading when your actually snoozing (while miraculously maintaining conscience alertness in case the teacher walks by). The customers kept-a-coming and becca kept-a-falling-asleep anyways. My ill-fortune with the "snooze-a-not" trick unfortunately landed me in the managers office a couple of times.
Okay, the "snooze-a-not" trick didn't work...so I tried the guilt trip. The guilt trip is when you remind yourself of everyone and everything and every celestial power that has got you this job in the first place while simultaneously pondering the gazillions of people that would die for a job period that you are taking so lightly and still pining even more over how you've screwed up already so as to somehow keep you from screwing up in the future. The guilt trip is actually
very effective...not so much on a
fifteen year old
per say, but it has proven it's effectiveness now than I'm twenty-one.
So if you don't remember anything, anything at all, after reading this blog...leave with at least this: that the guilt trip is a cost effect way to live up to your responsibilites and carry them out successfully (especially when over the age of eighteen). Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd, I'm out.
Nothing, really...
I saw my ex-boyfriend leaving Wal-mart the other day, after getting gas. Same body type, same hair style, same facial hair, not any fatter and not any skinnier.
It was peculiar that I saw him though, because I swore I had seen him twice already. I even told my mother about it. To say that I'm one-hundred percent positive it was him would be a lie, because the angle was a little misleading. And besides, there really is no reason why he would be back in Austin. But it was him.
I didn't say hi. I didn't want to say hi. Does that make me a bad person? I could care less what he's been doing these past couple of years (not to sound insensitive, but it's true).
I've heard that a whole spectrum of feelings resurface upon seeing an ex. My friend, Grace, says it's too hurtful to see her ex, because of all the "shitty" things he did. On the other side of the spectrum, I have friends that have no problem keeping in contact with exes and still call them up. However my moment upon seeing my ex was characterized by nonchalance, indifference, and apathy. A colossal feeling of nothingness. Yeah.
Me? I absolutely have no interest in ever seeing any of my exes again. We had our sweet moments, but we are exes for a reason.
I just don't get it! Sure, I cared about my ex, but why would I keep in contact? What good could possibly arise from keeping in contact? I'm the kind that when I break-up, I break-up for good. I at least reserve integrity in that. There's no gray area, no calling them to wish them happy birthday or merry christmas, no emails, no giving of advice for them in their future relationships, no talking to them about our past, etc.
Honestly, what would I possibly say anyway? "Hey, what's up, haven't seen you in a couple of years, so how's the kidney thing going...get a new one yet? Oh yeah, and thanks for being a loser and leaving me the way you did!" No thanks.
I just
didn't want to talk to him. Nothing, really...
Technicalities
This is a hard one. I think releasing this drug does encourage sexual promiscuity. Sure it does. Sex without the possibility of bearing a child and not dealing with the responsibility of rearing a child?....Hmmm, sex just got more appealing (for a girl anyway).
Wood argues against the notion that this "plan b" is an abortion pill (effectively killing fertilized egg by preventing it from attaching itself to womb). She says all contraceptives are abortifacients by that definition then, (not true), simply because you're officially "pregnant" only when the fertilized egg has attached to the womb. Give me a break with the technicalities already! It's the principle dumb-dumb!!
You know what the principle is right, Wood? Oh, really, you don't? Enough said then.
http://www.statesman.com/opinion/content/editorial/stories/01/23hight_edit.html
