sorry it's been a while

I freaking love these refrigerator word things.  I cooked at my friends place and spent half the time mesmerized by the power of magnetic art.  

 Very very good for writer's block. but kept getting frustrated because I couldn't find the words I wanted.

 

went to bed at 8 PM woke up at 2 AM, now can't sleep

part of me believes we won't make it past February.  I've never made it to Valentine's day with anyone, much less the altar.  I don't trust my judgement.  My brain relies on sleep-deprived emotions rather than rationality.

I am afraid of boredom.  I am afraid of a lack of communication.

I think I like doomed relationships better.  Like a prison sentence that you know will end next weekend so you can get comfortable with the free food and cable.

Beginnings are so pretty.

I'm bad as half of a dual substance.

genetics or you know. Other things.

Thanks to my Grandma, my Dad, and my Mom, I am now:

A clean freak

A cheapskate

Crazy.


And proud of all of it.

Now let's just hope I inherited some good relationship skills from my other set of grandparents.  Very soon this will be the longest relationship I have ever been in.  Which means from here on out I'm in uncharted waters.

I MADE THIS THING.  My friend saw it, and he's all "Oh you made rangoli."  Which I have never heard of before, but so be it!

People keep judging me for liking this song. I don't care about them.

Memory

I miss this guy.  I still remember the night we were all out dancing in the White Room, he told me I was like a daughter to him.  It probably occurred to me at some point that I'd never see him again after leaving Thailand.  For one month, we were classmates, we were friends.  It was a motorcycle accident.   Love you John.  The world is worse off without you.  Thank you for lending me pens.  Thanks for the laughs, the advice, thanks for being my Dad away from home.

 All the cigarette boxes in Thailand have these nasty pictures of rotting teeth and body parts.  He once told me "Well I can't stop smoking now can I?  I have to collect them all."

we can't all be winners

I don't like being not invited to parties.  It reminds me of high school.  Even if the hosts are really only my acquaintances, aaaaaand I really shouldn't care.

Sometimes I feel like I'm still a little kid getting angry because my best friend sat by someone else on the bus.

Stupid.

Anyways, here is a nice French song.

Vacation is a word that means work.

When I did my laundry yesterday I didn't wash any actual clothes.  Only scrubs.  I have dreams almost exclusively about my residents.  Also had a dream that my elderly Arabic coworker borrowed my favorite scrub top and wrote "This belongs to Amy" in pen down the front so he'd remember to return it to me.   (I was surprised both that he had it without my knowledge and that he'd managed to fit into it, while at the same time not surprised at all at the fact that he'd want to wear a woman's scrub top).

I worry that this job will kill my back and I'll be hunched over trying to help people while bent in half.

 I don't know if I can be a CNA for the rest of my life.

A degree in University Studies is probably pretty freaking useless.


Good things:

Holiday Pay.
Overtime Pay.
I keep overhearing people saying nice things about me, because elderly folk are bad at judging how well I can hear them.