Blog 47

Oh goodness, this is a personal prompt… the first guy I ever liked was Richard Wilfred Smith III and I pray to God that he doesn’t Google his name and read this. We “dated” for nine months in the 8^th grade until I moved to another state.

He was a nice guy. His family was overwhelmingly kind to me and so was he. We went to the same school and crushed on each other in 8^th grade science class. I can honestly say that he was a good friend to me.

Sadly, my life got a little crazy, and for reasons out of my control I was staying in a variety of houses and eventually got shipped off to Ohio to live with some relatives. To an 8^th grader this means the end of the world, but it really was the best thing that could happen to me and put me where I am today.  This is the reason that we “broke up”. (And a good one, although I didn’t really get it at the time)

Now we’re friends on facebook and his status for today informed me that he just graduated the Air force academy and is planning on being a pilot. There aren’t any hard feelings or anything.

I’m glad that things turned out the way they did, because even though I was devastated when we broke up (I probably cried for hours), I realize now that It was necessary and that I really only had a crush on him. I think the most important thing is that I associate him with me moving away and starting a new leaf, a very positive thing in my eyes. 

Blog 46

I simply cannot stand it when people spit on the ground. It’s like they can’t swallow their saliva like a normal person and feel the need to regurgitate a little bit as they’re walking along. I mention this because I was just walking past Thompson and nearly got spit on as the wind hijacked the guy in front of me’s spit and blew it my way. Really, it’s equivalent to drooling in public.

I realize that this may sound a little harsh, but I’m not a prick when it comes to any other area of etiquette. I don’t care if you cut in front of me, talk loudly on your telephone, or if you are that jerk disrupts the whole theatre at the movie theatre, just don’t spit at me.

Bodily fluids should stay in your body. If I want to share them with you, I’ll ask you on a date.

I’d also like to state that I’m aware that this blog is turning into a rant.

The only thing worse than spitters is people who spit out brown goo associated with chewing tobacco. This makes me gag.  Tobacco use is an individual’s choice, while I don’t understand why someone would choose it, I do get that it’s not my business if they do. What makes it my business is when the guy on the corner spits out his dip on my open-toed, white sandals. There is such a thing as courtesy, and seriously I think keeping your grossness to yourself falls into that category.

Blog 45

To celebrate New Year’s Eve of 2011, I packed up my car for the night, grabbed my boyfriend, and we set out on a road trip across the Midwest.

The trip began as musings of a road trip to the south for the summer and grew increasingly more spontaneous as we realized that we didn’t want to wait that long to get away. He was stressed out about having a psycho roommate. I was stressed out about the family drama of Christmas.

We were short on money (what college student isn’t?), so decided to pick low budget attractions. First we headed west towards Wright-Patt air force base and visited the National Air force Museum. Admission was free. We spend over half a day wandering through the hangars and looking at the development of flight and air warfare. As nerdy as it was, we wondered at the Sopwith Camel and took turns explaining the engines.

After that, we ventured further westwards, making unplanned stops as we pleased. We watched the ball drop, dozed off, and were up and driving early the next morning. He navigated me towards ‘gravity hill’, which turned out to be a very un-noteworthy hill in Indiana that gave you the optical illusion of falling backwards when you stuck the car in neutral just over the apex of the hill. We laughed that we had wasted so many hours on finding a hill that really didn’t do anything.

After that, we quested for the Tulip Tressel Bridge, or the Richland Creek Viaduct in Greene County, Indiana. It’s the third largest bridge of its kind in the world and is over 100 years old. We called ourselves bridge enthusiasts and spent the day navigating backcountry roads in order to get a glimpse. It got dark before we could spot it and we did the long ride back to Columbus not at all disappointed.

The trip was important to me because it made me realize that I had grown up. It was empowering to know that I could jet off on a whim and spend time with someone that I love. No one could tell me know and I didn’t care a hoot what anyone thought about it. 

Blog 43

 The summer between my junior and senior years of high school I can home and my uncle was standing next to a red 1999 Honda Civic. He did not give it to me, but he said I could drive it until I scraped up enough money to buy my own junker car.

Over the next 2 years I would end up putting two thousand dollars into that red car. It needed all new brakes, all new tires, a new rim, all new brake lines, and of course- considerable work after my ex-boyfriend borrowed it and crashed it into a Buick full of 80 year olds. I got stranded in Dayton and paid five hundred dollars to a shady shop after filling it full of diesel fuel at three in the morning.

This ‘gift’ is probably sounding like a piece of crap to you right now. Yes, it has cost me a small fortune, but I love the freedom that it has given me. That stupid red car allows me to work when I want to, to spontaneously spend New Year’s Eve on a road trip, to get away from my responsibilities when I need to and to meet them the rest of the time.

My uncle really did give me the best gift that anyone else has ventured to give me; the freedom to grow up on my own. I don’t need to rely on anyone else for transportation, money, or approval to go places. I can choose to live off campus and to do what I want. 

Blog 42

I was hired for my first and only job the day after I graduated high school and turned 18. I am a Medical Receptionist at a medium sized family practice in the suburbs of Columbus.

My first day, I learned the most applicable task I have learned at my job up to date. The girl next to me taught me how to make coffee using an automatic machine. This was not a great introduction to the job; it lulled me into a false sense that it might actually be easy. Making coffee is actually the least of my worries. Receptionist seems to be a general term for the person who does everything that no one else is assigned to do in addition to all of the administrative junk that you could possibly think of that’s associated with scheduling, insurance, and charting. I have plunged toilets, cleaned up blood from the foyer, dealt with alarms, acted as tech support, and a number of things that I never thought I would have to do.

My job isn’t rocket science, but it is stressful. Patients get upset when their insurance doesn’t want to pay claims, when they can’t get scheduled when they would like, when the doctor won’t fill their prescriptions over the phone. You don’t know what a headache is until you do 8 hours of electronic filing and paper work in a day.

The best and worst thing about my job is the funny stories that I have accumulated. Of course, I can’t tell a soul any of them because I’m bound by confidentiality consents and a mountain of laws protecting the medical information of our patients. I guess you’ll just have to believe me. 

Blog 41

I’ve always been fascinated with Latin American culture. The people, or “la gente” of South America have always caught my attention; they subscribe to different values that I have personally admired. The customs of their culture provide them with a mode of communication that makes the important stuff more visible; it’s easier to see when they love and when they hate. As a general rule, I’ve observed that the spirit of Latin America can be found in large families and lively gatherings. I love that. It’s not just the result of a single people’s development, it’s the mixing of imperial influences of old European powers, the culture of the African slaves that made colonization possible, and the indigenous influences of the native civilizations that called the continent home to begin with.
It’s not hard to guess that I’m a Spanish Minor. If I have the time and money, I’ll double major.
My dream, rather my romanticized and unrealistic dream, is to travel through South America and do service with the Peace Corps. I want to honeymoon in southern Argentina and live in a Guatemalan villa when I’m old and shriveled. I’m a stereotypical American, slightly cold and distant- I’m not very expressive and I avoid rowdy crowds and contact. I suspect that this is why I like the atmosphere of closely knit families, fiestas, and warm greetings. I know that not all Hispanic people fit this description, but I still hope that I’ll find satisfaction in learning more about the customs, traditions, and background that make up their collective spirit.

Blog 37: My Encounter with a Douche

A few months ago, my boyfriend’s college roommate accusingly asked me why there was mold in his cups. He glanced past his roommate, looked me in the eye and said, “You’re a girl, so you can tell me. . .” Later that night I found myself cleaning their toilet* while he criticized me and commented that he never intended on cleaning a toilet, but that he’d rather marry someone to do that for him. Apart from a swimsuit calendar that he received as a gift, he has shown no promise of doing so and I’m left to wonder how he’ll ever get his future toilets cleaned. Jesus save us all if he ever manages to reproduce.

               This guy is a douche bag. It’s easy to recognize this because of the way that he makes others feel and the lack of remorse at which he does so. Maybe you have someone in your life that makes you feel like you’re worthless or that you wouldn’t mind the jail sentence if you were ever pushed enough to strangle them? Although I would never admit it to his face, this guy made me feel unwelcome, demeaned, and like I would never be able to convince him otherwise.

               It’s not ohkay for another person, by nature of their personality and ego, to ever be able to make you feel horrible. I urge you to consider the problem that this niche causes in the collective mass of events that is our everyday lives.

*It was too disgusting for me to use, and I needed to do so