February 11th, 2004

me2

Accepting ones fate...

I'm pretty sure I bombed my math test, and I'm ok with this. Since I got the A last week, it seems that all is right, and I shall not kill myself if I fail.

Especially because I'd have to nosedive on the final to get anything less than a C in this class.

So onward and upward to my next semester I go. Starts next week, and while I look forward to it now, I know that in three months I'll be clawing my eyes out in frustration and exhaustion when I can't remember third declension nouns anymore and I don't care what the inverse function of that problem is. Thus starts a new semester at PCC.

It seems weird that it's now three years since I started back. I was so dejected and frustrated after my Jewell experience, and well pretty much felt like a loser. Here I was, this supposedly ambitious person, all my friends had college degrees, and I had to quit because my family had to go up and explode. You don't know what that does to a person. My one big goal in life was a college degree, and I had the yanked from under me with all the grace and forethought of a three year old with a table cloth at a dinner party. So while I kept swearing I'd go back, I didn't think I could.

If it hadn't been for Wilkie lighting a fire under my ass, I don't think I would have gone. Too bad Corey doesn't read this, I'd give him a huge hug and say 'Thanks', because here I am, looking at three more semesters before I have a little piece of paper. You don't know how thrilling that is to me. Course, it's only an associates, but it's the fact that I stuck it out to get one, let alone any. School is so much harder when you are paying for it and trying to support yourself. You have no idea. I long for the old Jewell days when I had Mom and Dad to lean on and student loans to pay for it all. I could take all day to study...and I didn't. But perhaps it makes me more focused, more driven, because it's so much harder now. If you want it, you'll fight for it, I suppose, and I want this. I don't think I could ever settle down and work out the rest of my life till I got this really.

I feel a sense of guilt though, because I've cut out a ton of people from my life and used school as the excuse. It's a good one, let me tell you. I'm so tired once I get home, the last thing I want to do is see anyone or talk to anyone. And it's not that I don't think of you or not care anymore, I do. I'm just lost in the mire of higher education, and some of you know what that is like, *cough*, Quentin, *cough*. *giggle* People always come back to reality eventually.

Till then, if you want to see me, you know where I'm at...course you know, you might need to bring a straighjacket along with you, or a good piece of rope. That's if I'm awake.

So here's how the next year boils down. I have to take Latin 2 next semester, along with Math 3 and Fencing. Summer is off. Fall and Spring next year I divide up Music class of some sort, preferably Theory, Speech 6, Biology, Comparative Government, another PE class, and another History class if I can swing it. This may require a Winter session class, but that's OK. If all works out well, I'll be walking next spring. I might even get my father out here for the event. Lord, the Southern Baptist minister from Missouri coming out to LA for the first time. This should be interesting. *giggle*

Soon, soon, I'll be through with PCC...soon.......

Ahhh.....
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me2

Drunken calls from Israel...

My best friend just called me on the phone drunk after he and some yeshiva buddies of his decided to go get drunk in Jerusalem. Apparantly the plan is to go on to Tel Aviv, go to a strip club, drink some more, and return to the yeshiva in time for Shabbos.

I'm glad to know that in finding religion he still can manage to get blitheringly drunk on Tequila with someone. *rolls eyes*

Course, I can't say anything, the woman who got intoxicated and cried over a Harry Potter character's death. LOL

I have tried to be good about alcohol of late, mostly because of my nasty habit of drinking while depressed. Since I've been constantly depressed, I decided that this isn't a wise thing to be doing. See, I do make some smart decisions in my life. But a part of me still longs for the time when I could just hang out with people and we could get blisteringly drunk, and it would all be something to laugh about later that week.

But then, some of the stupider things I've done occured while intoxicated, so perhaps they weren't so funny after all.

When I was 17, alcohol was that hidden vice, that secret sin that my father loathed. His father had been an alcoholic, and so the fear of God was put into us concerning alcohol and what it did to you. Of course, I tried to be a good girl, but I had this best friend named Maggie. Maggie had no problem with alcohol, and knew who to buy it from. IN fact it was her determination to get me blithering drunk before we graduated high school. This opportunity occured during our senior year one cold and icy weekend.

I was 17, and feeling more than a little rebellious, and it was the first of December. THe entire Midwest got smacked with an ice storm from hell, and my small town was iced over like Staples Center for a Hockey game. Power was out, schools were closed, couldn't go anywhere unless you planned to ice skate. The worst part was no electricity, we had heat from the gas heater, but no power to the hot water heater. No hot showers, no hot food, reading by lamplight, and batteries in the radio, that was all we got. FOR A WEEK I COULDN'T WASH MY HAIR IN HOT WATER. I was near hysterical on that one. Mom and I washed our hair in freezing water over the sink because I couldn't stand not washing it. (This was also in my Aqua Net phase, you could imagine how icky it gets....)

So sick to death of these menial conditions, I was clawing at the walls to get away. My best friend came to the rescue. She was living with her boyfriend, and knowing I needed an excuse to get out, came up to Pollock where I lived and fetched me, under the stipulation that I go to church the next morning with the folks to go home. Mom and Dad didn't want me straying too far into the land of sin. So off I went with Maggie and her boyfriend James, to find adventure and cheap booze on a cold, December evening.

After of course a quick stop at her house to warm up and to make ourselves redneck glamorous for going out, (we were in a small town after all, and if you didn't have bangs reaching heaven and eyeshadow that made Tammy Fae weep, you were nothing...), we all headed out to find a buyer. James, who had just got off work at the Banquet Chicken plant, hooked it up with one of his co-workers, a person I vaguely remembered from school. Soon we had two fifths of Scnapps, apple and peppermint, and 32 oz cups of ice and mountain dew, both to cut the taste and to hide the fact we had illegally opened containers of alcohol in the car with three minors. *grin* Maggie and I helped ourselves to the Scnapps, James to the Red Dog Beer, blech, and off into the sunset we went. Well, ok, pitch dark, but you know what I mean.

Now, the funny thing about kids and drinking in the Midwest is that it must all be done while driving. I don't know why, logic tells you it's stupid, but it's something you do in Milan, Missouri when you are bored...you drive in the middle of no where. And if you are REALLY bored, you drive with lots of alcohol. So we decided to drive. Maggie, already feeling the effects of liqour on her system, decides somewhere in the middle of Bum Fucking Egypt that she really needed a Wendy's Hamburger. The call of Wendy's is quite powerful you know. Not only did she need one, but she needed it now, and we had to go and get one. So, Ford Festiva filled and full of inebriated kids, we take off to Kirksville, 45 miles away to get a fucking cheeseburger.

The whole way there, I'm sucking on this huge glass of Mountain Dew and scnapps, sucking it down as if it were melted Jolly Ranchers, (which it tasted like). I didn't quite understand why everything was now so hysterically funny. Nor did I understand why I kept chattering about stupid, inconsequential things, but it seemed REALLY important to say. And worse, Maggie was the same way, so the two of us kept laughing and chattering at each other like monkeys, while James took to cursing under his breath about 'damn women can't hold their liquour'.

Anyway, so we arrive at Wendy's, two stumbling girls and a taciturn guy, and sort of fall in the door. Behind the counter is a guy from Sri Lanka...he looks at us sort of funny. I imagine he had seen many drunk college students there, it was a college town, but I think he wondered if James wasn't armed or something. Before we go to order, Maggie declares that she has to pee...but I made it to the bathroom first. Ha ha! So she decides to go into the men's bathroom with James. He shrugs it off, turns to do his thing, and when he looks behind him, she's up on the sink, deciding she couldn't wait any longer. Cursing, he gets her down, rinses out the sink as best he could, and comes out to me in the hallway cursing and livid over the fact she just took a piss in the sink. Maggie, however, is laughing hysterically, staggers up to the counter, and announces to the poor Sri Lankan that she had indeed violated his sink. I think he was still more worried that James might whip out a gun on him, and that the sink was just a foil to get him from behind the counter. HE wouldn't budge, merely waited for her to order, while James swore and cursed behind.

Haven successfully got us two drunk woman with food, we sat down to eat when Maggie, obviously over the top drunk by this point, laughingly tells us about having 'accidently' kissed this person at school, someone she wasn't attracted too, but it had been a dare, and wasn't it all rather funny. James, already pissed, was of course not thrilled to hear this. Even worse, he wasn't thrilled to hear his girlfriend laughing about it. So, in a fit of annoyance, he tells her so. She, drunk, tells him to fuck off. THis leads to a heated debate in front of the poor Sri Lankan, who looks as if he's about to call the police, and me, I sit and munch of french fries, as I realize my buzz is quickly fading, and contemplating whether I could sneak off to the car to drink alone while they argued.

The rest of the night was rather uneventful by comparison.

Needless to say, I didn't drink enough to get trashed, but it was a rather memorable first time drinking. Few times since have compared. But I look back on it with lots of smiles, both because of my redneck memories, and because I was once a very stupid kid who thought that drinking in the middle of no where was cool. LOL Not that I'm much wiser now. Still, it's not quite as fun as when you are 17 and think you are being cool.

Somewhere, there is a Sri Lankan man who is terrified of big, drunken rednecks coming to rob him. I hope he knows I'm terribly sorry.
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