'Tis the Season.....and All That Jazz.

So I've been thinking a lot about Christmas lately. Pretty obvious since it's now officially December and it's that time of year when everyone is thinking 'tis the season!

I'm just panicking. It hit me earlier that I have literally only two weeks left of this semester. Two weeks, fourteen days, etc...and I can't go Christmas shopping until then. I have to shove in some holiday shopping in a little due to the fact that presents to California have to be sent off soon, but other than that nope. Not going to happen.

And this is not good. Last year I promised myself that I would get an early start on the gifts. I'd make things earlier, I'd shop when there were major sales. Heck I even would go out on Black Friday if I didn't have to work. Yet when the time came homework preceded anything else and I worked on Black Friday. I've really only managed to get started on one present and that's sitting half-finished in my room just staring at me as if it's saying "So...am I ever going to be finished? A complete thing? Or will I sit here incomplete until some late hour the night before you're supposed to give me away?"

I usually respond with "Oh quit whining. I started didn't I? And have you SEEN this room? How can I possibly start on gifts when I have this hurricane induced mess staring me in the face?"

To which my gift just sticks out an imaginary tongue and shuffles back to whatever it does when I'm not yelling at it.

I don't normally speak to inanimate objects, but at this time of year it's a special case. Plus it really is true about my room. At the end of every semester I have to take a rake to my room to get things organized. Usually it's just clothes piling up, books strewn about in laziness, and various other objects I've needed throughout the past four months and never got around to putting away due to homework. Then of course is the cat hair that has accumulated on my comforter (over many washings....le sigh) which I finally just have to take packaging tape to, to fully get rid of.

This is what I get for giving in all the time to the plaintive mews and pawing noises coming from my closed door. She sleeps next to me as I type and that's just adorable. Though waking up with a face full of fur constantly makes me compare the pros and cons of having a cat sleep on my bed. She always wins though.

So what was this post supposed to be about again? Oh right. Christmas.

On the bright side, after all the crazyness of finals is over with I will get more sleep than I've gotten in a month and a half and my sister will be home! Putting up the Christmas tree and my grandmother's creche followed eventually by making candy cane cookies.

You want stereotypical Christmas? Come over to my house. I do have to say, I think in some ways I love Christmas Eve a little more than the day that follows it. We have this tradition where some of the family (more closely related cousins that is) get together and pass around gifts and simply spend time with one another. Plus, great food. Until my grandmother passed away, it used to always be held at my Grandmother's house. Now she was the lady that loved Christmas. In fact I'm pretty sure the only holiday that put more fire into her was the Fourth of July, pyromaniac that she was. A tendency I'm proud to say, she passed on to me. :D

Then after everyone leaves we get ready for church and the late service. It's really the one time of the year I feel overly spiritual. Probably due to the wealth of Christmas music playing all around me. My favorite part is the end and no, not because that means it's closer to the next morning. Because every year my church ends the service by everyone holding lit candles and singing Silent Night in the candle light. The last verse we sing is always just the voices, with no piano in the background. It's a moment that makes me really feel fully one with my God.

But when all is said an done, I think it's the month of December that really gets me going. As much as I hate cold weather and think that snow should only arrive on Christmas and New Year's, it's the whole feeling and family time of the season that just makes me happy...as cheesy as that sounds.

So trying not to panic about gifts, and just grateful that I'll get to see my sister in 16 days!

Can we say, Ew?

I would like to state right now, that any sight of dead animals on the road makes me want to cry. I guess it's a gut reaction due to my intense love of perpetuated cuteness by Disney. You know, cute animals all fluffed up with big wide pupil filled eyes?

Yeah, each animal I see on the side of the road is one of those loveable, squeezeable Disney characters. How could anyone possibly hit them I wonder? They are CUTE animals!!

Then I ran over a squirrel three weeks after I first earned my license. I was in shock. More shock than I thought possible (although it is probable that I exaggerated my feelings at the time since I'm ADD like that). I wanted to cry and beat myself up over the fact that I just killed a cute squirrel for no good reason. Then there was the time a bird flew into my windshield while driving on the highway.

So I found out that sometimes you just can't help it. It happens. Animals aren't taught to look both ways as they cross the road. One thing I had learned since beginning to drive, was that to watch out for Deer. Not only did they live abundantly in my area, but if you were to hit one, whoo boy. You were going to have a buy a new bumper.

Which brings me to my main point, I try like HECK to not hit Deer. The woods near my house usually have a few in them and so I'm always keeping a sharp eye out for those glowing eyes. So when I started home from class the other night, I wasn't expecting what would happen.

Long story short, (Too late!....anyone get the reference? Anyone? Oh, look up the movie Clue.) less than 30 seconds after leaving campus I saw a Deer crossing the highway and the oncoming truck lighting the silhouette. The next few moments seemed to be in slow motion. I saw the truck hit the Deer and the body fly towards me. The Deer landed a split second before my car passed over it and my hands left the wheel for a moment due to the jarring of the car passing over a hundred-some pound animal. 

My first reaction was to make sure that I was ok, and that my car was ok. Once that was double checked, I murmured "Oh my God....I think I just killed Bambi's mother." Then I white knuckled it all the way home and once in the house, promptly burst into tears for about a minute.  

Then I got angry.....I believe I cursed that Deer into oblivion, saying "I freaking just got that car this summer. This summer!! Shiznet, what if there's major damage to the car??" I didn't even want to go and look because after all, what if there were...parts...stuck on the undercarriage? So I waited till morning arrived and forced myself to look at the damage. Thankfully only some parts that looked like plastic were hanging loose but there was one suspicious object which I quickly glanced over and didn't think about. Ew. 

I also, thankfully, had another car which I could drive the next morning. Which I did, and have used since. I personally don't ever want to go through that again. I definitely prefer seeing Deer in fields near my house rather than flying under my car.

Nerds Unite!

I am proudly stating my status as a nerd.

Not the regular kind of nerd, nope. I am in no way super smart, can understand math, or can figure out physics. I'm a knowledge nerd. That is to say, I love learning new things. My favorite channel in the whole wide world?

History Channel. Yep, I love my History Channel. What other place can you learn about our nations history, time travel, Egyptology, and volcano's? Well, minus Discovery Channel. It's the perfect channel! In fact they recently had a ten part series called "America: The Story of Us." Now, cheesy title aside, this was an intense look at the USA from start to finish. It even made the American Revolution (something that I cannot stand to hear about anymore considering how many its been chewed and spit out to me) sound interesting.

I was telling my sister how I was thinking that I wanted to ask for that DVD for Christmas. She responded with "Suz, you are such a nerd."

Cut to two days later and my mother is confessing that while I was growing up she thought for sure Katie (my sister) would be the nerd in the family. But she sighed, and I quote, said "Was I wrong." This was stated because we recently had at work a lady pay us in four two dollar bills and I had freaked out over it. Two dollar bills! Those aren't exactly popular, so of course I was excited. Momma forked over two one dollar bills so I could take one home and upon further inspection, I was shocked to see what was on the back of the bill. It was the famous painting of the Declaration of Independence. Of course I squealed and raved about my brand new wonderful two dollar bill to everyone who would listen.

Then I repeatedly was informed that I, Suzie Bartholomew, was a nerd. To which I replied, of course I am! Dang proud of it too!

Basically, if you aren't nerd, you really aren't all that awesome in my book. Then again, I might just be biased.

My Inner Cheerleader

In my opinion, everyone needs to have an inner cheerleader. 

Now you don't have to have them in a cheerleader's outfit, but for me, it works. Plus I get to imagine myself looking pretty dang awesome in an outfit that would NOT look good on me. Tiny skirts plus long legs equals "wow, she's trying really hard isn't she?"

So yeah. Moving on to my point. The other day I'm sitting in my English Lit. course having a freak out moment. My professor is telling the class that "While your paper has to be done before the 4th, I suggest making sure you're not writing it at the last moment. You don't want to have to deal with the paper PLUS studying for the midterm. Unless you thrive in that stress...."

On the outside I'm talking with a classmate, writing down notes, and laughing with the class. The inside is a different story. On the inside I imagine myself to be sitting on the floor with my planner sitting in front of me. My inner self is in sweat pants, a ratty old T-shirt, and my hair is haphazardly pulled back into a bun of some sort. I'm making a mental list of things that have to be done before fall break and trying not to pull my hair out. The place I'm in is nondescript, just a dark space with an unknown source of light shining down on me. My planner is quite a bit larger than in real life, almost half my size. I take my pencil and slowly mark on the blank pages. First off is the days I have to work, so I can properly schedule my free time. Second is the homework for that week, assignments such as my statistics homework, reading specific chapters of the book for English, etc. Then the really hard begins.

Taking into account what my English Professor just told me, I begin to plan when I'm going to write my first essay for the class. Then I remember I need to make time for my reading for the paper in my Religions class and oh, can't forget the fact that I need to finish that one early as well. After all the same day that specific paper is due, I have a blog due, a poem due, and a quiz to study for. In essence that needs to be finished in the next two weeks as well. So I have to make sure to get all the outlining and research done this next week. Oh but then it hits me that I need to study the next week for my first statistics test. On my huge planner I erase the plans for the week to make room for the study time. 

On top of all of this, I have the everyday plans. Things that can't be planned. Things such as my friends baby being born soon, my room getting cleaned, trips to Walmart to pick up necessities and all that jazz.

My inner me begins to pull in her legs and grabs the sides of her head. Yelling out in frustration, she opens her mouth to proclaim "There aren't enough hours in the day! I'm never going to finish all of this! I can't, no more, just don't give me any more to do!" I've officially started to freak out.

Then a big flash of light and the seemingly boring space I've occupied is unveiled as a gymnasium. I see a perky me in a blue cheerleader's outfit holding a bullhorn on the other side of the gym. Her hair is up in a high pony tail and there are mini pom-poms hanging from the base. Three blue stars decorate her temple in face paint. She looks at me and proceeds to yell (through the bull horn) "Oi! Get up off the floor and stop feeling sorry for yourself!"

"Who was the girl who wrote the Harry Potter essay, which was SIX pages, in three hours the night before it was due! That's two pages an hour!"

Inner me stands up and states "But..I had all the research done the week beforehand..."

Cheerleader me walks over and slaps my head with a notebook. "OW! What was that for?"

 "Ignore the extra's girl! We are focusing on the main picture here! Now who was it that wrote that paper? Hmm? I can't HEAR you!!" While saying this, cheerleader me puts the bullhorn to hear ear.

Inner me: "Uh..me!"

"Exactly! And who wrote two different papers for her Tuesday/Thursday classes at the same time! Two days before they were due!"

Inner me starts to open her mouth when cheerleader me puts the bullhorn to her mouth. "Don't even start on the research! I don't care that you finished it two weeks early!  So who was it?"

Suddenly energized, inner me stands up taller and yells "I DID!"

"Who was the one who wrote the analysis on a game she didn't even play, a paper she was sure she'd screwed up on? The paper that got an A and only needed a couple grammatical errors fixed?"

"ME!"

Screaming as loud as she can through the bullhorn the perkier version of myself says "No who's going to write three papers, a poem, and a blog in the next two weeks? On top of all the other crap she has to deal with?"

Jumping up and down, inner me yells yet again, "ME!"

Cheerleader me puts the bullhorn down and cocks her hip. "So go on out there and do it! Oh and bring back A's while you're at it huh?"

Inner me bends over to pick up the planner, which has now turned to it's normal size and closes it. 

What has just occurred is what I like to call Suzie's Inner Mind Theater. It changes to whatever is going on around me, but this is what usually happens when I get stressed. Whenever I seem to get down and feel like the world is crashing around me, I just call on my inner cheerleader. She puts my butt into gear, lemme tell you. I don't know if it's just me, but I think everyone must have some form of an inner cheerleader yelling at them with encouragement. Call it giving yourself a pep talk, whatever. Sometimes a person just needs to be reminded that the world isn't going to come crashing down on top of them if everything isn't perfect.

So I'm still kinda overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I have to do in such a short time, but I know I'll get it done. I just now and then need a good swift kick to get moving.

Oh Memories......

While sitting in Pizza Hut with Laura, my non-blood related sister, I was complaining about the lack of good boys bands the US of A has. We were reminiscing about good times back when we were in middle school and such topics usually lead (with us anyway) to the music we listened to. Growing up in the era of NSync and Backstreet Boys has definitely made me a fan of anyone who can sing and dance at the same time.

Plus, they were hot. 

Ok, one could say that the Jonas Brothers are the lastest boy band, but that's not a boy band! That's a tween rock band wanting to be a boy band. This is exactly what I was telling Laura as we were munching on breadsticks. A Jonas Brother's song was playing and I was asking Laura how we cannot have one single good boy band while Asia apparently is abundant with them. Yup, there are many boy bands throughout Asia and I'm a total lame-o for knowing this.

Seriously, one group has thirteen members. Thirteen!!! Juuuust a bit overkill maybe? Possibly? Though that one guy was cute....

Moving on. 

So while we're discussing how the boy band era seems to be behind us and how we (ok, well *I*) wouldn't mind having a decently legit boy band again, the next song starts to play. For the first 30 seconds, everything is normal, but then we are suddenly thrust back through time to 2001 with NSync's "Pop".

Silence reigned at our table and then laughter erupted from our mouths. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just pure luck that one of our favorite songs from that time had issued forth. We ended up spending the next minute laughing so hard tears came to our eyes. Then we proceeded to dance (as much as you can in a booth anyway) and sing along. We gave no notice to anyone else sitting in the restaurant or the people who waited on us. Since we've been working on our Remembrance essays, it seems that the more I spend time talking with my family, more memories have been talked about and shared. 

I sometimes wish I could go back then, maybe re-do some of my less than stellar moments. But then it hits me that, at times like this, situations would be different. It was those moments, among my average and stellar ones, that cause these random spurts of laughter and joy. Maybe if I changed something, I wouldn't have been sitting in Pizza Hut earlier today laughing about boy bands. But if that's the case, I'm glad I made the decisions I did.

A Race of Two Kinds

In class today we talked about family. What family meant to us and all that jazz. Well, this particular discussion just happened to stir up a whole bunch of memories of family. I felt like sharing two, mostly because I find them funny and also because they're two of my favorites to tell.

When we had to draw the floor plan of our house (no joke people) this was the first memory that ran through my head. I happen to have a house where you can walk in a continuous circle through the living room, dining room, kitchen, and the hallway in between the living room and kitchen. Forget the rest of the house, this is where I tend to spend most of my time on the phone. Ever since I hit that mystical age where the phone becomes glued to your ear, I find myself walking around this circle in my house while chatting. I've done this since middle school and I seriously doubt that it's going to change anytime soon. Well, it so happened that my best guy friend in middle school had a similar layout. It was even in the same order of sorts!

Again, ignore the rest of the house.

So we're just chatting away one day and he asks me "So whatcha doin'?" Rolling my eyes at his question (he asked me that almost every ten minutes back then) I replied with "Well, I'm walking around my house talking to you!"

"Oh...wow. I'm doing that too. Where are you in your house?"

Wondering where he was going with that I told him the truth. "I'm passing through the Kitchen." His response?

"I'm in the living room.....I'm winning!!"

Next thing I know, we're having a race through our separate houses that seemingly has no end. Randomly yelling out "Kitchen!" "Hallway!" "Dining ROOM!!" didn't seem weird at all. One thing I happened to forget was that my dad was downstairs working. So it's no surprise that after a few minutes of rapid running above his head, my dad walked up to find out what was going on. The stairs from the basement lead directly to the Kitchen, so when I entered, full hilt into the room I had to skid to a stop at the sight of my dad glowering down at me. (This, obviously, was before I gained my height advantage.)

"Just. What. ARE you doing?"

Gulping I squeaked out "Uh...having a race..?" Meanwhile my friend on the phone kept yelling "Living ROOM! Suz? Are you there? I'm winning you knooooooooooooow!" Dad, thankfully, just shrugged and told me to stop. Apparently he has no memory of this incident.

So besides having to stop random races, my dad was also there when I had to learn to ride a bike. About a week before my ballet recital, my dad takes me out to the black top to work on my yet-as-non-existent-bike skills. Before leaving the house, my mother gave a stern warning to NOT let go of my bike. I was in no way ready or confident enough yet and ergo, I would fall. So we start off, me sitting on the bike peddling away and my dad holding on to the bike while I got my balance equalized. After a few times back and forth across the black top, dad asked if I wanted to try any more or if I was ready to head back in. I wanted one more try, and as I started I felt very free, as if I was riding on my own!

Turns out I was. My dad suddenly thought that it was ok to let go, and as I turned to tell him how much fun I was having my heart stopped when I realized he wasn't there. Then, my confidence left me and my bike toppled over. I had scraped my knees and noticing that I began to cry my head off. In the end, my mother was more annoyed that I had to have band aids under my tights than the fact that my confidence in riding my bike was shattered.

Skip ahead a year and I'm still not riding a two wheeler. I loved to ride with my sister and her friends, but on my little trike of a bike I was always trailing behind yelling "Hey! Wait up!" So one day my sister finally snapped. It was a Sunday, and we had just changed out of our church clothes when my sister threw my bike helmet at me and said "Hey, get out here. You're going to learn how to ride a bike."

Despite my protests, she had me on that bike and slowly going in circles on the flat top of the driveway. Then instead of that dreaded black top by the street, she had me learn to balance by coasting down our sloping front yard. When I complained and said I would fall all she said was "Look, we'll make sure there are no sticks in the grass and so if you fall you won't scrape your knees. It's not going to feel good, but you won't need band aids!"

Needless to say by the end of the summer I was riding that two wheeler like a pro. My sister had done what our parents couldn't. She glued the pieces of my shattered confidence back together.

Then again, it might've been due to our close relationship. I practically hero worshiped my sister at that age. It kind of goes with that unspoken rule of little siblings. You must impress the elder sibling!!

Acceptance is the Path to Healing.

This is going to sound weird, but bear with me.

I am in emotional rehab. It's because of a certain guy, who's name happens to start with an M, so from here on out lets just call it M-rehab. I wasn't dating him and we weren't just friends. I considered him my brother. He'd been there for me since first grade, through all the hard times of high school, the loss of grandparents, and the crushes which never panned out. But as time passed, something in him changed. Or rather, something in him never changed at all.

But once I realized all this, once I was ready to leave all the hurt and betrayal that he had caused behind me......I suddenly found that my normal outlet of blaring angry music and writing just wasn't cutting it. I was sitting with my mom and talking about how this stupid lovable boy just wouldn't let me let go when my mother interjected with "That kind of person can be addicting." It was then I spoke the words that, while I didn't realize it at the time, would finally be the crucible to lead me out of the pain.

"It's like I need rehab or something."

So began my journey of fixing my pain and moving forward. After all, losing a friend is far worse than losing a significant other. (in my opinion.) At least when your boy (or girl, depending on preferences) leaves you, there's that net of a best friend to fall back on. Who's supposed to pick up the pieces when it's that best friend who's leaving you in the dust? Now mind you, I have two other amazing, loving friends that were there to listen to me. But it's still a very personal journey to make, when the fact that someone who knows all your deepest and darkest secrets just isn't there anymore. Especially when that friend wasn't exactly the best of friends with the rest of the people you hung out with. So I came up with steps. Note that these can be applied to pretty much any other emotional situation.

Step one is admitting you have a problem. Check.

Step two is admitting that you are addicted to the idea of that person, and not the person in general. Check.

Step three is allowing yourself to heal. I'm still working on it.

About a week or so ago I had a relapse. When in M-rehab I am on a strict NO-LOOKING-AT-HIS-FACEBOOK-PAGE regimen. This does not apply to when I am skimming through the home page and happen to see status updates stating that he's going to be working for 5 hours and oh god he just doesn't want to deal with the crazy people. So on his birthday I.....well I caved. I looked to see who had said happy birthday. I mean, yeah he had hurt me. But not to the point where I wouldn't wish him (albeit silently) a good birthday. Then I noticed it. Anger began to creep through my whole body and bubble higher and higher at the simple fact of what he had done.

He had defriended me on Facebook.

Oh it was pathetic. I ranted and raved about what a son of a witch he was and how DARE he. Oh but wait, it just keeps getting better. He was still friends with all of my friends. I was the only one he seemingly deleted. I couldn't get over what a slap in the face it was. This meant he was never going to apologize didn't it? I was never going to hear him say he made the wrong choice and that he shouldn't have ever acted before thinking was I?

Was it so wrong to hope that maybe he might, just might, want to be friends again? Maybe not in the next two months, but in a few years? That the whole staying connected via Facebook was his way of saying there could be a future for us again? As my anger slowly crept away, that's when I realized that was what my anger was all about. Not the fact that he had defriended me, oh no. But that, for him, it was a way of saying I give up. On you, on our friendship, on everything. You no longer matter to me.

That was it. Maybe we wouldn't have been friends again. Maybe there will never be a chance to reconcile. But as much as he had hurt me, as much as I was done with him, part of me still held onto the hope that sometime in the far off future we could reconnect. I wasn't willing to count him out, so why would he choose that path?

So yeah. I relapsed. I spent two days spewing horrible epithets. I'm still an M-rehab recoverer after all. There are going to be setbacks. My final cord is cut and I no longer have any connection whatsoever. This will be just one more thing that is an obstacle to being completely healed.

But I'm looking on the bright side. No more stupid status updates to filter through!

Workplace Related Hi-jinks!

I love my job.

Let me clarify. I absolutely freakin' LOVE my job. To further clarify, I work in a bookstore with a lot of great gals. I get to discuss one of my favorite topics with customers that does not include all the hassles of folding clothes, making food, or cleaning dishes. When we're not busy straightening the store or helping our customers, we get to read. 

Seriously, at night when no one is in the store and we have nothing to do, we read. I consider it part of the job though. I mean, you have to be able to recommend what you have in the store right? Of course I never seem to get around to the bestsellers......my bad....

But as I said above, I work with some great people. It's kind of like a mini-family there sometimes. They're eclectic, but because of our similar love of books, there is always something we're able to talk about. So I'm not surprised by the crazy antic's that occur. Take Friday night for example. I'm let in the back by Elizabeth, and I just happen to notice a sign on the bathroom door that says "Use for going to the bathroom."  Then there's the one by the clock that says "Use for telling time." (at first I thought it said for killing time.) But wait, there's more! One above the doorknob reads "Use for opening the door." I turn around and there's a note stuck to the back door reading "Use for escape!"

Elizabeth, noting my confusion, just looks at me with a smile and says "Oh, don't mind those notes. They're for Jeneane when she gets back from her vacation." Apparently my manager Jen and Elizabeth during a crazy fit of midday boredom, decided to leave "welcoming" notes for our assistant manager. I thought it was bad enough in the back but nope, there were more up front behind the counter. One on the stapler read "Use to staple." I move to the keyboard and read a note stating "Use to type." One on the back counter informed me that it was used "for keeping food and pop at arm's length."  

The kicker was the note on a CD case which read "Use for Jeneane's lame CD's." After that I recovered from my shock and began to giggle. I kept on giggling until those giggles turned into full blown laughter. I looked at my manager and asked "Would you care if I put a couple of these online?" She didn't care and so here are some of my favorites. Maybe it was just me and my fellow bookstore-ites, but I hope these make you laugh!

On the bathroom mirror. Just in case you can't read it, it says "Use to admire yourself."

On the cart!

By the thermometer. Note that the lower note's always been there...

We are so cruel.....this one is on the register monitor.

On the regular computer! 

And finally, to leave you with this last thought :

Well Hello There...

So, I am finally on here. It took me two whole days before I got this thing up and running. In fact, it only took me a few minutes to set everything up. Well, around ten is more like it, but that's only because I worry too much about what my title should be and whatnot.

Also I am way to obsessed with my writing. I mean, one shouldn't worry that their sentences aren't good enough in a blog right? 

But moving on. I spent the majority of those two days hemming and hawing over the intricacies of a theme. My first gut reaction was to do the usual "hi, this is me, this is what I like...blah blah blah." Then I thought, well I do own a crazy cat. I could write about her! 

Wait, that would mean I'd become a cat lady. Two words that are synonymous with knitting and hoarders. So that's a no on that idea. I was told to write about relationships, books, pop culture, make interesting lists, and it went on and on. It was the topic on the lips of everyone I talked to. Which really wasn't that much. I digress. 

Finally it hit me. What the heck do I need a theme for? I'm not going to just half-heartedly work on this thing just because I chose to write about something that couldn't keep my interest. So I guess if I have to have a theme of some sort, it will be whatever deigns to pop through my head. I don't want to sound dramatic, but I hate labels. It just feels like I'm trying to label this blog when choosing a theme. Of course I'm probably crazy for worrying over it this much, but I am an English Major. I will always use that as my excuse!

So we'll see what happens, and what ends up on here.