I don't have anything to write about, really, but since I haven't posted in a long while, I feel kind of bad. So, I'll write all the lurid details of my mundane summer ad nauseam.
The job search continues to be fruitless. I received a letter in the mail a couple of weeks back from a company hiring for the summer. It was one of those letters I always just tear up and throw out-junk mail. But of course this time my mother made me apply for it. The interview was in this little office building, and the guy who was giving it is probably only 3 or 4 years older than I am. I got the job and was all set, dreading the days of training ahead and of course still suspicious. Thankfully, my sisters protested and my parents decided it was a bad idea. And so, I remain jobless. I have applied for
several jobs, but no one feels like hiring someone for just 3 months. I went into town yesterday with my father to run random errands and check back with the some of the places I had applied to. The guy at Blockbuster told me I didn't meet the minimum requirements. Whatever that means. I think it means they don't want to hire a seasonal worker. If not that, it likely means they aren't going for people who can't work on Saturday nights
or Sunday mornings. If the application were more accommodating, I could write that I can work one of those days but not the other each week, among other things. Well, whatever. It's retarded. As I have written before, I don't like asking for a job application. I have no reasonable explanation for it. And so it seems like I don't make any effort to find a job, apparently. This is not true, of course. Yesterday my dad started yelling at me about how I'm a slacker who doesn't do anything and how I don't even try to get a job, so obviously I just don't
want one. He then accused me of lying about having applied to this one restaurant in Rowlett. I never said I applied there, I said I called them up to ask if there were any positions open. He went on and on forever...Ugh. Growing up with my parents, I can take more than my fair share of verbal abuse, but once in a while, you just really really aren't in the mood to hear it. I started freaking out a bit, and it was noticeable when we got back home; my mom asked me about it, and my dad starting setting in on me
again. I was rather surprised because she stuck up for me and told my dad to shut it. She's been on my back forever about this stuff. My dad says something every now and then; then he feels guilty about not backing my mom up more and thinks he can show he cares by yelling at me about how I'm a screw up. I don't think he really cares that much. I think he just doesn't want to get crap from my mom about not backing her up. Haha, catch 22 for him, I guess. That's what happens when you're not paying attention and then try to overdo it at the last second.
I've been thinking about death quite a bit lately. Not really about dying, but about being left behind. My morbid curiosity leads me to wonder how it would feel to lose someone so close. I am more than certain I don't want to know. But wouldn't it be great if you could gain the perspective that death offers in another completely painless way? Just to be so thankful for those people you have. It would feel like a gaping hole in your life, right? "I still feel her around, she's still so alive to me, and then I remember she's not here anymore. It's like I'm living in two different dimensions. I'm living with, living
for someone who's long passed on."
Sometimes, I remember I don't control the world. I remember that I am, in essence, powerless. I am not 6 billion people, and certainly not every plant and animal. I am one person. And I am not even in complete control of
her. In this moment of renewed realization, I am grateful. I am granted an insatiable fascination by(with?) life. Right now, 6 billion people and all these plants and animals are living independently of me, and every single one of them is a mystery to me. Even those I am aware of contain so many thousands of memories and thoughts...Sometimes, I treat my pets...sometimes I treat even my friends and family like objects. Unmoving, unthinking, unliving, inanimate objects. The relationship is not always mutual. I remember this every time I'm with my cats.
You ever know a person your whole life and realize they're a complete stranger to you?
I've been home since Sunday, actually. I got most of my clothes packed before my parents arrived on Friday afternoon. They were more than a little annoyed with me because I didn't have anything
else packed. That was a long day. That whole
weekend was long.
As always, it's a bit of an adjustment being back again. Already, the time is passing slower; and yet everyone here is in such a hurry for some reason. Their speed is such an unnecessary stress. Ah well. I haven't done much of anything since I've been back. I took all my boxes into my room the moment we got home, and haven't really even given a second thought as to actually going through them. They sit in neat little piles. I like boxes. Even in such large numbers, they leave an impression of tidyness. Really, it's the lack of all the knickknacks. I doubt I'll unpack most of my things. Who wants to have to pack them all up again in 3 months? I have wasted my time staying up late and sleeping in late and reading. My books will be one of the things I do unpack. I've also spent a considerable amount of time filling out job applications. :/ Not the most enjoyable way to spend time, but it gets my parents off my back. I hate how my mother drags me into town just to force me to go around and get job applications. I hate hate hate asking for a job application. I don't know why. I just really really don't like it.
My dad says he woke up the other night to three cats fighting; we only have two now. He walked outside and saw a big gray cat fighting with our cats. He thinks it was Earl Gray, our foster cat that ran away after the dogs died and I left for college. I wonder if he'll come back now that I am home. If there were such a profession, I think I could be a cat-tamer. Cats like me.
My parents leave for Mississippi later this morning. My pretentious cousin is having her commencement this weekend. She'll be receiving her PhD. I think she's become pretentious over her college years. She didn't even really take a break from school. I think that's crazy, but ok. Anyway, I will pretty much have the house to myself because my sister is working all weekend, and she often sleeps over at her friend's. If I weren't such a sad individual, the possibility of having a party would come to mind fairly quickly after finding this out. Alas, I am a sad individual. Even if I knew enough people for a decent-sized party, I wouldn't really want to throw one. I hate parties. Every time, someone inevitably gets stuck in the corner alone and unhappy. Usually this person is me. Even at my own parties. You may tell me that I am the one who isolates myself, and maybe that is so. But it's still not without some effort on my part to avoid such an event. Well. I will party hardy with me, myself, and I. And maybe Jessica and maybe Shawn. If they actually decide to come over. Which would be just fine with me.
The insects are attacking the house. There's a tap on the windows every 2 seconds, I swear. I hate insects. Sorry Shawn.
2 exams down, 1 to go. The last test is tomorrow from 1-3. Yippee.
I showed up to my Philosophy test this morning almost 30 minutes late. For some reason, I kept thinking it was at 10:30, not 10. >.< It's fun to walk in so late in front of 100-some people. Ah well. Most of them didn't know I was in the class in the first place. Well. I don't feel too bad about it. I think I did all right, actually. German wasn't so bad either. So yayity. Western Civ is tomorrow. Yay for history courses I don't study for but still pass. But this class talk is boring me something fierce.
More interesting stuff later.
Oh yeah. I wanted to bitch about how they wouldn't buy back my political science or philosophy books. Bitches. If they don't take back my german and western civ books, I'll have a hissy. X|
