This morning, I was awakened by my mother. "Rece, Daddy needs your help. They're coming to butcher the cow today." Let me just say, upon principle, I am a vegetarian. If I could, I would boycott meat all together. There is something about the innocence in animals. Why would we want to hurt them? In practice, I am a carnivore. I eat meat. I prefer ham to all other meats, but I eat different meat to get proper protein.
So when I woke up this morning to help my dad, I only helped put up the corral. I felt bad doing it. And when my dad tricked the young steer into the corral, I talked to it. I tried to convince it that I was on its side. I wonder if I will remember that next summer when my dad tries to serve me tri-tip steak.
My sister-in-law watched the cow massacre. She thought it was fascinating. Why on earth she takes pleasure in a young cow's pain is beyond me.
Some might consider me a fruitcake. I consider myself empathetic. How do YOU think the cow would feel? I'd be frightened if I were a cow about to me murdered.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Bad Hair Day
This morning, my brother and his wife brought my niece over pretty early in the morning. I could hear her come into the house. She's not exactly a quiet or shy girl. I heard her ask a number of questions about me.
When I finally meandered out of my room, I was still in my PJs. I wore my glasses and hadn't done anything to my hair. My niece gave me a hug and then told me, "I don't like your hair." Granted, my hair was a little frazzled, sticking up in various spots. But she didn't need to TELL me just how bad it looked.
The truth is, over Thanksgiving Break, I went through a rather tragic hair cutting process. I started to look like Haley Mills. No joke. I'm talking about the bob from the original Parent Trap, the one that makes her look a bit like a mushroom head.
I'm hoping that my hair catastrophe will soon settle down, but for now, I grin through the terrible bashing from my three-year-old niece.
When I finally meandered out of my room, I was still in my PJs. I wore my glasses and hadn't done anything to my hair. My niece gave me a hug and then told me, "I don't like your hair." Granted, my hair was a little frazzled, sticking up in various spots. But she didn't need to TELL me just how bad it looked.
The truth is, over Thanksgiving Break, I went through a rather tragic hair cutting process. I started to look like Haley Mills. No joke. I'm talking about the bob from the original Parent Trap, the one that makes her look a bit like a mushroom head.
I'm hoping that my hair catastrophe will soon settle down, but for now, I grin through the terrible bashing from my three-year-old niece.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Marooned in Dayton
For the past week, I have encountered more snow that I ever remember seeing in Dayton, Oregon. As a kid, we had the occasional snow day during which my siblings and I would have snow fights, build speed bumps, or go sledding down our cousins' hill. This past week, the "rough weather conditions" led to five snow days, leaving me out of work. My sister was ecstatic. She tends to be a bit of a procrastinator and her work for school wasn't completed by Monday. My job doesn't require much "homework" so I was a bit bummed to not have school.
Fortunately, the snow didn't wound my spirits. I happen to be an avid fan of snow. Why wouldn't I be? I don't own my own car to ruin while driving in the snow. I didn't have to trudge through the snow to work every day last week. I was in snow heaven.
I was happy that my sister and cousin still lived on my road. We adventured through the snow in our jeans (snow pants have NEVER been a necessity in Yamhill County) and visited our Grandfather. While this was fun, we decided to enjoy the snow on a deeper level. We built ourselves a snowperson. I claimed that the snowperson was without gender or more accurately transgender, as it was first built as a snowman and was soon transformed into a snowwoman. My sister, not wanting to mess with the politics behind such a statement, named the figure, Frostette, both after Frosty and Smurfette, I believe. It was a sad hour when, the evening of her creation, Frostette collapsed into a few blocks of snow. Her makers had not done well to her preservation against tough wind conditions.
For the last few days, I've taken to writing stories, some of them dark, some light. It's been fun to delve deeply into my imagination and emerge with tales of humor or of woe.
And now I'm sitting here, taking a break for Twilight (reading it for the third time) and wishing that I could walk into town and go shopping at the antique mall or eat at the Italian restaurant. Snow may be fun, but being marooned in my parents' house for a week begins to get me a little bit stir crazy.
Fortunately, the snow didn't wound my spirits. I happen to be an avid fan of snow. Why wouldn't I be? I don't own my own car to ruin while driving in the snow. I didn't have to trudge through the snow to work every day last week. I was in snow heaven.
I was happy that my sister and cousin still lived on my road. We adventured through the snow in our jeans (snow pants have NEVER been a necessity in Yamhill County) and visited our Grandfather. While this was fun, we decided to enjoy the snow on a deeper level. We built ourselves a snowperson. I claimed that the snowperson was without gender or more accurately transgender, as it was first built as a snowman and was soon transformed into a snowwoman. My sister, not wanting to mess with the politics behind such a statement, named the figure, Frostette, both after Frosty and Smurfette, I believe. It was a sad hour when, the evening of her creation, Frostette collapsed into a few blocks of snow. Her makers had not done well to her preservation against tough wind conditions.
For the last few days, I've taken to writing stories, some of them dark, some light. It's been fun to delve deeply into my imagination and emerge with tales of humor or of woe.
And now I'm sitting here, taking a break for Twilight (reading it for the third time) and wishing that I could walk into town and go shopping at the antique mall or eat at the Italian restaurant. Snow may be fun, but being marooned in my parents' house for a week begins to get me a little bit stir crazy.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
food of champions
I first heard of chili-mac in high school drama class. One of my good buds couldn't get enough of the stuff. He raved about the way the cheese blended with the chili into an amazing mass of goodness. The first time I ate it, I was a sophomore in college. I'd cut down my meal plan for the caf. and was living on toast and easy mac. One day, I splurged on a random trip to Costco and bought a six pack of chili. That's when it happened. I mixed the two together and discovered the meal of a lifetime.
And tonight, I had a bowl of that delicious combo.
And tonight, I had a bowl of that delicious combo.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
deadlines and dragonflies
Deadlines are a bust. It seems like no matter how smart I am and how much I prepare myself for whatever it is, I always get stuck with the worm. It's procrastination. I'm starting to believe it's a real disease. And I think there is a cure.
What would life without procrastination look like? Would it be all feathers and candies? Sunny days on the beach with popsicles and volleyball? I think that even if I lived in this blissful world, I would stop mid-stride and think, "isn't there something I'm supposed to be working on right now?" It's probably good I wasn't born under a silver spoon, because I'm sure my moaning and groaning would have caused severe tarnish by now.
What would life without procrastination look like? Would it be all feathers and candies? Sunny days on the beach with popsicles and volleyball? I think that even if I lived in this blissful world, I would stop mid-stride and think, "isn't there something I'm supposed to be working on right now?" It's probably good I wasn't born under a silver spoon, because I'm sure my moaning and groaning would have caused severe tarnish by now.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Miss Bunn
Miss Bunn is me. She's the lady at school. The blonde one. The one who works in small groups and teaches kids how to pronounce words in Spanish even though she doesn't know the meaning of the words. Miss Bunn is funny. Kids really like her.
I don't like being called, "Miss Bunn." When I was in Ukraine, I was called by my first name by students, teachers, and friends alike. I didn't want to feel like an old lady.
Today, I realized that I am, in fact, an old lady. The girls I teach transitions English to were born in 1999 or 2000, during my junior year of high school. Now I see why they might expect me to be married. They look at me and think, "she's old."
They don't understand the "Miss" thing. I'm older. That's all that counts. So they call me Mrs. Bunn most of the time.
One day, the kids asked me my age. First Deisy asked, "are you an adult?" to which Daniela answered, "Yeah, she's an adult, she has a job." But what made my day was when Virginia said, "I thought you were a teenager." That's sweet, right. I'm young. My bones aren't getting brittle yet!
I don't like being called, "Miss Bunn." When I was in Ukraine, I was called by my first name by students, teachers, and friends alike. I didn't want to feel like an old lady.
Today, I realized that I am, in fact, an old lady. The girls I teach transitions English to were born in 1999 or 2000, during my junior year of high school. Now I see why they might expect me to be married. They look at me and think, "she's old."
They don't understand the "Miss" thing. I'm older. That's all that counts. So they call me Mrs. Bunn most of the time.
One day, the kids asked me my age. First Deisy asked, "are you an adult?" to which Daniela answered, "Yeah, she's an adult, she has a job." But what made my day was when Virginia said, "I thought you were a teenager." That's sweet, right. I'm young. My bones aren't getting brittle yet!
Monday, August 18, 2008
priorities
We all have priorities. Some of us choose family, friends, or fun. Some might choose partying, work, numbing the mind, or sitting at home.
I usually choose people. I surround myself with my family and friends. So I plan events and outings with the important people in my life.
My dad and I had plans tonight. We were going to watch the new Batman movie. But when I got off of work, I had a new text message. We needed to reschedule so my dad wouldn't miss his show. Nine PM every Monday night. One Tree Hill. To be honest, my entire family is invested in this addicting but somewhat unrealistic show.
But seriously. We had to cancel our outing to stay home and watch a RERUN on TV. I think the old man needs to take a good look at his priorities.
I usually choose people. I surround myself with my family and friends. So I plan events and outings with the important people in my life.
My dad and I had plans tonight. We were going to watch the new Batman movie. But when I got off of work, I had a new text message. We needed to reschedule so my dad wouldn't miss his show. Nine PM every Monday night. One Tree Hill. To be honest, my entire family is invested in this addicting but somewhat unrealistic show.
But seriously. We had to cancel our outing to stay home and watch a RERUN on TV. I think the old man needs to take a good look at his priorities.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
A Date With My Mother
The other day, I went on a date with my mom. It was a regular Friday but instead of going home as I seem to do just about every Friday night, I had plans...with my mom. We drove up to Portland to go to a movie. Our mission: to watch The Sisterhood of Traveling Pants 2. Instead of going to the show that started when we arrived, we opted to go to the later showing and grab some dinner and do a little shopping in the meantime. We wandered the mall, made a few unnecessary purchases, and went to eat at Macaroni Grill, my mom's favorite restaurant.
And so it was. We had dinner, talked about our lives and as my mother took her first bite of dessert, a horrific look came across her face. "I'm full," she said.
"No you are not. Have one more bite," was my response.
She didn't try any more but watched as I sifted through the questionably textured apple dessert.
When we finally left the restaurant, we went back up to the movie theater. After each set of escalators, my mom had to stop. I know she was often cursed with motion sickness but after an escalator...seriously. We reached the top and...she had to throw up. Instead of spewing out on the spectators four floors down, she rushed to the bathroom where she blew chunks.
It was just a regular night hanging out with my mom. What more could I ask for?
And so it was. We had dinner, talked about our lives and as my mother took her first bite of dessert, a horrific look came across her face. "I'm full," she said.
"No you are not. Have one more bite," was my response.
She didn't try any more but watched as I sifted through the questionably textured apple dessert.
When we finally left the restaurant, we went back up to the movie theater. After each set of escalators, my mom had to stop. I know she was often cursed with motion sickness but after an escalator...seriously. We reached the top and...she had to throw up. Instead of spewing out on the spectators four floors down, she rushed to the bathroom where she blew chunks.
It was just a regular night hanging out with my mom. What more could I ask for?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Relationship Wizard
My sister got herself a new boyfriend. I'm sure he's nice and all but somehow he's turned my sister into a melted carmel sundae. She's all liquidy about him. She spends all her time thinking about him and when she's not thinking about him, she's calling him or texting him on her oh-so-fantastic cell phone.
Are all relationships like this?
I'm not a very relationship oriented person. Truth is, I don't understand the concept of relationships. I care too much about myself to really give up what I want for the sake of someone else. On occasion I can be a nice person. I share and give up my valuable time to help out my friends and family. But why would I do this for some guy?
I wouldn't. I had my heart broken once and although I "learned something" from the experience, I don't really see the point of having my heart cut up into shreds again.
There is something to be said about those people who truly diverge themselves into the realm of dating. They are dare-devils, masochists. They put their faith in other people. At times, they fail. Sometimes they succeed. No matter what, they move on, keep trying and if they find that unlikely person that they can actually stand, they try harder, willing the relationship to last.
I don't get it. I wonder if I ever will. For now, I choose to be flabbergasted. And I'm okay with that.
Are all relationships like this?
I'm not a very relationship oriented person. Truth is, I don't understand the concept of relationships. I care too much about myself to really give up what I want for the sake of someone else. On occasion I can be a nice person. I share and give up my valuable time to help out my friends and family. But why would I do this for some guy?
I wouldn't. I had my heart broken once and although I "learned something" from the experience, I don't really see the point of having my heart cut up into shreds again.
There is something to be said about those people who truly diverge themselves into the realm of dating. They are dare-devils, masochists. They put their faith in other people. At times, they fail. Sometimes they succeed. No matter what, they move on, keep trying and if they find that unlikely person that they can actually stand, they try harder, willing the relationship to last.
I don't get it. I wonder if I ever will. For now, I choose to be flabbergasted. And I'm okay with that.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
strange encounter
Yesterday, I went to the Yamhill County Fair. I was on a date with my father, but I still met up with a few of my friends from work so we could all watch the concert. Blue Oyster Cult was on stage. The band is from the seventies and most of the members were obviously not the originals, but it was still pretty great. I had a few beers to boost morale and help me enjoy the music.
While I was talking animatedly to my co-workers, my dad stepped aside to pick the brains of the men in uniform behind us. My dad is a retired colonel, you see. He started talking to one of them for a while and somehow it came up that I was in the Peace Corps for a spell. The guy, Joshua, must not have been so bright because he still thought I was in college. I'm WAY too old for college now, that is, unless I EVER get into grad school.
Joshua tried to get me to join the air national guard. I don't have too much against the military, I mean, my dad worked for the government for the better part of his life but I mean seriously, I'm not the type of person you want to recruit. I was in Peace Corps. I don't believe in working for the man (even though that's kinda what I do now at the bank).
The worst part of the whole thing was that the guy gave me his card to call. Of course, he wasn't hitting on me, he was trying to get me to sign up for the air guard. And then when I ran into him later, he said that as a former Peace Corps volunteer, I couldn't join. Um, I wasn't going to but now there is DEFINITELY no reason to call...
Hmph.
While I was talking animatedly to my co-workers, my dad stepped aside to pick the brains of the men in uniform behind us. My dad is a retired colonel, you see. He started talking to one of them for a while and somehow it came up that I was in the Peace Corps for a spell. The guy, Joshua, must not have been so bright because he still thought I was in college. I'm WAY too old for college now, that is, unless I EVER get into grad school.
Joshua tried to get me to join the air national guard. I don't have too much against the military, I mean, my dad worked for the government for the better part of his life but I mean seriously, I'm not the type of person you want to recruit. I was in Peace Corps. I don't believe in working for the man (even though that's kinda what I do now at the bank).
The worst part of the whole thing was that the guy gave me his card to call. Of course, he wasn't hitting on me, he was trying to get me to sign up for the air guard. And then when I ran into him later, he said that as a former Peace Corps volunteer, I couldn't join. Um, I wasn't going to but now there is DEFINITELY no reason to call...
Hmph.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
lobsterback attack
I like to swim. I always have. There was never anything more fun to do than go swimming on a hot summer day.
This weekend was warm. It was more than warm. It was hot. On Saturday, rather than writing, studying for the GRE or learning more about how I can save the world, I took a small road towards hedonism by laying out in the sun. I engaged in some light reading and fell asleep, once on the beach chair I was lying in for most of the time and twice in the pool while in my floating bed.
Three hours of leisure led to at least a week of true pain. Skin such as mine cannot take the burn that has encased my back.
And so my back matches the red shirt that dons it each night. I can only hope that soon the freckles will take over and take all the ache out of it.
This weekend was warm. It was more than warm. It was hot. On Saturday, rather than writing, studying for the GRE or learning more about how I can save the world, I took a small road towards hedonism by laying out in the sun. I engaged in some light reading and fell asleep, once on the beach chair I was lying in for most of the time and twice in the pool while in my floating bed.
Three hours of leisure led to at least a week of true pain. Skin such as mine cannot take the burn that has encased my back.
And so my back matches the red shirt that dons it each night. I can only hope that soon the freckles will take over and take all the ache out of it.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Too busy with life
In Ukraine, I lived a simple life. I had time to call my family and visit my old Ukrainian babycya across the street. My time was free. I had hobbies, would travel to see my friends on weekends and always had time to help my friends whenever they asked me to do something.
But now I am in America. My life is chaotic. Every day is so full to the brim with work or entertaining others that I have no time to myself. I have no time to do the things I love.
What does that mean? To say "I have no time" to do something is pointless. I have the same amount of time here that I did when I was in Ukraine. I have twenty-four hours every day to do what I want. It is my choice to do whatever I choose. Obviously if I am telling myself that I have no time to myself, I am doing something wrong. I need to take care of myself. We need to enjoy this life we have. Not only is this our one life to live, but I truly believe we'd better enjoy living it.
But now I am in America. My life is chaotic. Every day is so full to the brim with work or entertaining others that I have no time to myself. I have no time to do the things I love.
What does that mean? To say "I have no time" to do something is pointless. I have the same amount of time here that I did when I was in Ukraine. I have twenty-four hours every day to do what I want. It is my choice to do whatever I choose. Obviously if I am telling myself that I have no time to myself, I am doing something wrong. I need to take care of myself. We need to enjoy this life we have. Not only is this our one life to live, but I truly believe we'd better enjoy living it.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
don't touch my money!
Today my niece showed me her coin purse. It's about 2 inches deep and 2 1/2 inches long. It holds about 54 cents. She handed me this, her wallet, to look at. I started to open it up to count the change and she yelled out, "Put that back right now!"
Dude. Sorry. I didn't realize that our obsession with money starts at age 2. Then as she was leaving, I gave her a hug. After the hug, she checked her purse to see that her wallet was still there. Did she think I took it? Have I played "magic" tricks with her before?
Wow. That's all I can think. Wow. Money... an obsession... the thing most people end up fighting over... the bitch that has enslaved us all.
Dude. Sorry. I didn't realize that our obsession with money starts at age 2. Then as she was leaving, I gave her a hug. After the hug, she checked her purse to see that her wallet was still there. Did she think I took it? Have I played "magic" tricks with her before?
Wow. That's all I can think. Wow. Money... an obsession... the thing most people end up fighting over... the bitch that has enslaved us all.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
the death of customer service
The buck stops here. When Harry Truman first coined this phrase, I wonder if he knew how many people would use it. It's so matter of fact. It shows ownership, control, leadership, responsibility. I like it because it shows that Truman was a bit of a hard-ass.
At my current position on teller row, I often feel like a bit of a hard-ass. I'm not really sure how customers perceive me, but I do know that I react strongly to all of their misfortunes and annoying habits. Take, for example, a woman who doesn't have it all together. She often misplaces her keys, forgets that her pen is in her hair, and can't ever remember her account number. She laughingly comes up to the counter, shuffles through her bag, trying to find her check book. She apologizes for not being ready but doesn't step aside to let one of the other ten people in line come to the front. This woman ruins my day. Her light cackle annoys this aging mind of mine and echoes in my brain until I want to run away and scream.
Stupid people drive me crazy. There is a point when the brain feels as if it can explode. These people stretch me to that point.
At my current position on teller row, I often feel like a bit of a hard-ass. I'm not really sure how customers perceive me, but I do know that I react strongly to all of their misfortunes and annoying habits. Take, for example, a woman who doesn't have it all together. She often misplaces her keys, forgets that her pen is in her hair, and can't ever remember her account number. She laughingly comes up to the counter, shuffles through her bag, trying to find her check book. She apologizes for not being ready but doesn't step aside to let one of the other ten people in line come to the front. This woman ruins my day. Her light cackle annoys this aging mind of mine and echoes in my brain until I want to run away and scream.
Stupid people drive me crazy. There is a point when the brain feels as if it can explode. These people stretch me to that point.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
red noses in spring
Allergies seems to attack the most innocent of people. I, for one, consider myself to be one with the earth. I started a compost pile outside my parents' house, I recycle all recycleable materials. I use less toilet paper than I used to. I do good things for this earth we live on. And yet, I am plagued with allergies. What is the deal?
I stayed home yesterday. My activities included sleeping, watching Sex and the City Season Three on my TV, blowing my nose, and drinking water. And this morning I woke up and just as much snot is squeezing out of my nose as before. Within the hour, I'll be at work. People who help people all day as I do shouldn't go to work when their noses are acting up like mine is yet again today. Let's just hope I'm not one of those crazy carrier monkeys.
I stayed home yesterday. My activities included sleeping, watching Sex and the City Season Three on my TV, blowing my nose, and drinking water. And this morning I woke up and just as much snot is squeezing out of my nose as before. Within the hour, I'll be at work. People who help people all day as I do shouldn't go to work when their noses are acting up like mine is yet again today. Let's just hope I'm not one of those crazy carrier monkeys.
Monday, April 28, 2008
scratchy throat
This morning, I woke up in a haze. My eyes were tired and blurry (as usual) and my throat was scratchy and uncomfortable. I was sick. I didn't know if it was the sickness of cold or the pain of allergies which was causing my discomfort.
I called my supervisor at work to call in sick. As I wasn't throwing up or anything, I was told that I could not stay home. And so I went. And I feel worse. The scratchy nose and throat are most definitely here for a while.
I called my supervisor at work to call in sick. As I wasn't throwing up or anything, I was told that I could not stay home. And so I went. And I feel worse. The scratchy nose and throat are most definitely here for a while.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
up a quarter
Gas is ridiculous. My mom thought the gas prices wouldn't go very far over $3 per gallon. But here we are just four months later and the gas prices are almost a dollar more than a mere four months ago.
The price of tea at the coffee shop next to work has increased by 25 cents. That happened within the past week.
What's next? Toilet paper? Water?
The price of tea at the coffee shop next to work has increased by 25 cents. That happened within the past week.
What's next? Toilet paper? Water?
Monday, April 21, 2008
shopping carts and such
I like to travel. I like to go new places and discover new and interesting things to do. Staying in one place turns me into a bit of a nutcase so that I begin to run around in circles, binge on chocolate or drink wine by myself.
Since returning to the states over four months ago, I have begun to realize that I am a tad on the hyper-active side. I must do something. On more than one occasion, I have been caught in the world of shopping. It's a mall called consumerism. We Americans walk through the doors and get caught in the twist of wanting more and more of what we don't need to purchase.
I get caught up by the accessories, the different things to put in my purse, in my ears or on my fingers. Others find the new cars most desirable and trade in for new cars every two years or more.
I am a consumer. And I don't like that I consume so much. Every day I try to do a little bit better. I reuse my various possessions and regift what I must. Slowly, I will be what I need to be.
Since returning to the states over four months ago, I have begun to realize that I am a tad on the hyper-active side. I must do something. On more than one occasion, I have been caught in the world of shopping. It's a mall called consumerism. We Americans walk through the doors and get caught in the twist of wanting more and more of what we don't need to purchase.
I get caught up by the accessories, the different things to put in my purse, in my ears or on my fingers. Others find the new cars most desirable and trade in for new cars every two years or more.
I am a consumer. And I don't like that I consume so much. Every day I try to do a little bit better. I reuse my various possessions and regift what I must. Slowly, I will be what I need to be.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
flabergasted by flirtations
Today a man of about seventy or so flirted with me. He got me to cash his checks and then said to me, "if you ever get tired of your husband, let me know." What was I supposed to say to that? How are we supposed to respond when we are flirted with? I don't know what to do. I've been told, in the past, that I tend to be a bit flirtacious. It comes naturally. It's a part of the laugh. But seriously, are these ridiculous pick-up lines supposed to aid in the ridiculousness of existing in this world?
Monday, April 7, 2008
fraud in freaksville
What is fraud? Is it a skill? When applying for a new job can you share that you have perfected the way to cheat someone else out of their money? Or is it something you share with your co-workers when they ask you what you did over the weekend?
When I was a lot younger and Al Gore had not yet invented the internet, I watched, The Net, with my sister. She thought Sandra Bullock was the best actress in the world. This suspenseful movie showed what has today become a reality. First they charge your credit card. Then they take your social security card. What's next, they take your free samples of depends out of the mailbox? What is this world coming to?
When I was a lot younger and Al Gore had not yet invented the internet, I watched, The Net, with my sister. She thought Sandra Bullock was the best actress in the world. This suspenseful movie showed what has today become a reality. First they charge your credit card. Then they take your social security card. What's next, they take your free samples of depends out of the mailbox? What is this world coming to?
Thursday, April 3, 2008
meatballs and spiders
Last night, my sister called me. The latest in their Nampa home was her son's hysteria towards hobo spiders. Shelli had read on the internet about the horrible things these spiders could do and had shown the pictures to Spencer. While I was on the phone, I could hear him screeching. Nightmares were evident.
Tonight, I was forced to cook. Again. The 'rents won't eat unless I help out so I did. We had meatballs. I burned the roof of my mouth. And now I'm gulping down a Mike's Hard Lemonade to make my life feel a little more exciting.
Tonight, I was forced to cook. Again. The 'rents won't eat unless I help out so I did. We had meatballs. I burned the roof of my mouth. And now I'm gulping down a Mike's Hard Lemonade to make my life feel a little more exciting.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
For the most part, I'm in a good mood. People who become my close friends are able to see me in my bitch mode, when I get grouchy and shout or talk about how people suck. But when people first meet me, they consider me to be a nice person. That's how people view me at work these days, sweet Sharece, the girl who should be walking around in pigtails, picking daisies.
If only they knew what was going on in my head.
If only they knew what was going on in my head.
Monday, March 31, 2008
ugly day at work???
A man came into the bank last week. He walked up to my window to make a deposit and he said, "Hello, Scarface." I was a little caught off-guard and reached my hand up to my face a little bit, afraid that perhaps I had a blemish I had scratched and was now oozing out ugly. Or perhaps my whole appearance that day was a little off, it had been a while since I'd looked in the mirror. The man looked closer at my name-plate and announced that he had read my name wrong.
Today he came back to my window. I remembered him instantly. It's not every day that a beautiful girl such as myself is confused as "Scarface."
Today he came back to my window. I remembered him instantly. It's not every day that a beautiful girl such as myself is confused as "Scarface."
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Mr. Eastwood
My father is a Clint Eastwood fan. He owns just about every Clint Eastwood movie on VHS and is working on replacing them with the DVDs. I wonder what would happen if my dad were ever to meet Mr. Eastwood. He seems to believe the actor's principles are golden, thus taking on the redneck qualities Eastwood has both in the old westerns and the modern day cop movies.
I, on the other hand, think Mr. Eastwood talks awful hick-like to be taken too seriously. But then again, I talk faster than most people can comprehend so...
I, on the other hand, think Mr. Eastwood talks awful hick-like to be taken too seriously. But then again, I talk faster than most people can comprehend so...
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Ten dollars. That was the cost of the movie last night. I paid ten dollars (plus my sister's ticket) to watch a two hour waste of my time on the big screen.
I hate to sound old womanish but I seriously remember the days when movies cost $2.50. Those were the days when child tickets and matinee prices were the same. Oh, to pay the child prices again.
But wasting ten dollars on a stupid movie was just horrible. I used to find Owen Wilson funny. And the kids were pretty funny. But the curly haired woman teacher was a stupid wench. She had no brains. Who writes these characters? Are there people like this in real life?
I've always thought of myself as a rather openminded movie-buff. But as my social life has become socially elite, my movie taste has also become rather selective. All I can say about last night is, I wish we'd been watching Juno.
I hate to sound old womanish but I seriously remember the days when movies cost $2.50. Those were the days when child tickets and matinee prices were the same. Oh, to pay the child prices again.
But wasting ten dollars on a stupid movie was just horrible. I used to find Owen Wilson funny. And the kids were pretty funny. But the curly haired woman teacher was a stupid wench. She had no brains. Who writes these characters? Are there people like this in real life?
I've always thought of myself as a rather openminded movie-buff. But as my social life has become socially elite, my movie taste has also become rather selective. All I can say about last night is, I wish we'd been watching Juno.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Marge.
That was my name. I was Marge. I had a secret marriage to Tony and I was a struggling actor. That was my role.
On casting day, the director announced me as the understudy. Bridget had the real role. I would not get to play the part unless she got sick or she couldn't make it to the performances. But she flaked out, stopped going to school and I got the part.
I wasn't made to be an actor. I could tell this because of the awkwardness I felt on stage during that stint of stardom those seven years ago.
Truth be told, I couldn't cut it. Marge had a secret marriage to Tony. The two were in love. But the guy who played Tony was an annoying Freshman and I couldn't do it. I couldn't kiss him. I couldn't pretend to like him let alone love him. The fakeness of the whole acting thing just didn't work with me. I'm a bad liar, anyone who knows me could tell you that.
I suppose my childhood dreams of becoming a famous actress could never be actualized. Macaulay Culkin married someone else and then took alternative roles in movies. We were never meant to be.
I guess this all means nothing cuz in truth, I'm doing pretty well these days.
That was my name. I was Marge. I had a secret marriage to Tony and I was a struggling actor. That was my role.
On casting day, the director announced me as the understudy. Bridget had the real role. I would not get to play the part unless she got sick or she couldn't make it to the performances. But she flaked out, stopped going to school and I got the part.
I wasn't made to be an actor. I could tell this because of the awkwardness I felt on stage during that stint of stardom those seven years ago.
Truth be told, I couldn't cut it. Marge had a secret marriage to Tony. The two were in love. But the guy who played Tony was an annoying Freshman and I couldn't do it. I couldn't kiss him. I couldn't pretend to like him let alone love him. The fakeness of the whole acting thing just didn't work with me. I'm a bad liar, anyone who knows me could tell you that.
I suppose my childhood dreams of becoming a famous actress could never be actualized. Macaulay Culkin married someone else and then took alternative roles in movies. We were never meant to be.
I guess this all means nothing cuz in truth, I'm doing pretty well these days.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
the f.a.n.t.e.
I think I was a bit of a loser in the early years of grade school. I write, "I think" because I didn't know at the time that I was a loser. Not only did I stay in from recess to write in my journal, but I also hung out with the teachers at recess, counted down the days 'til the weekend, and strived to get all pluses in every subject.
Things got more awkward in sixth grade when I developed into a thorough "chunk" with a bright pink cast. How I ever imagined I'd be an olympic balance beamer, I'll never know.
Then came the junior high years when I got called "pizza face" by a little kid half my age and I the years of ugly haircuts.
And then at last, I outgrew it. The ugly phase was behind me. I was now a "real" person.
But that's where I am now, that real person, the thing we call, "being an adult." While I think someday I'll figure out how to do something great, right now I wish I could go back to being that zitty faced teenager and seeing what sort of thoughts were really going through my head. Was I only concerned about those athletic guys I wrote my best friend letters about? Or was there anything else running through that crazy head of mine?
Things got more awkward in sixth grade when I developed into a thorough "chunk" with a bright pink cast. How I ever imagined I'd be an olympic balance beamer, I'll never know.
Then came the junior high years when I got called "pizza face" by a little kid half my age and I the years of ugly haircuts.
And then at last, I outgrew it. The ugly phase was behind me. I was now a "real" person.
But that's where I am now, that real person, the thing we call, "being an adult." While I think someday I'll figure out how to do something great, right now I wish I could go back to being that zitty faced teenager and seeing what sort of thoughts were really going through my head. Was I only concerned about those athletic guys I wrote my best friend letters about? Or was there anything else running through that crazy head of mine?
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Failure
Sports stars and perfectionists around the world believe in five simple words: Failure Is Not An Option.
I am no such perfectionist. As I've come to realize that I, in fact, am not perfect, despite my stellar sense of humor and annoying organizational habits, I not the Supergirl I once thought I was. Yes, I may have the blonde hair and amazing blue eyes, but the cape hasn't fit me since I was about five and I can't fly.
This all came up because I didn't get accepted to the one grad. school I applied to. I was determined to attend Oregon. It wasn't too far away, had a liberal community in which I could settle, and it had a good reputation.
And now I am lost. It's happened before. What should I do next? My plans are so wide open that I might as well flip a coin or put all the options in a hat and draw.
I'm okay. I figure it'll all work out. I may not be cut out for a master's degree yet but my life is still sure to be interesting.
I am no such perfectionist. As I've come to realize that I, in fact, am not perfect, despite my stellar sense of humor and annoying organizational habits, I not the Supergirl I once thought I was. Yes, I may have the blonde hair and amazing blue eyes, but the cape hasn't fit me since I was about five and I can't fly.
This all came up because I didn't get accepted to the one grad. school I applied to. I was determined to attend Oregon. It wasn't too far away, had a liberal community in which I could settle, and it had a good reputation.
And now I am lost. It's happened before. What should I do next? My plans are so wide open that I might as well flip a coin or put all the options in a hat and draw.
I'm okay. I figure it'll all work out. I may not be cut out for a master's degree yet but my life is still sure to be interesting.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
To adjust is
Since arriving back to the states, I've done many things to make myself busy and somehow enjoy life back in America. At first, I wrote a lot of letters and notes to my friends back in Ukraine. Then, I put all my energy into grad school applications and job applications. But now that I've completed my first month at my "new" job, I've discovered my newest attempt to adjust to American life.
I have thrown myself into television on DVDs. At first, it was the Gilmore Girls. Then, I rewatched Grey's Anatomy. But then I discovered my haven. It was The O.C.
I have never lived in California. In fact, I don't know that California would ever take me into her world. I don't know how to surf. My hair isn't blonde anymore, let alone reasonably presentable. And I've never tried to wear a bikini. But this show has me hooked.
Chrismukkah got me for sure. A special holiday in which we bring all the goodness of different traditions into one house is ideal. And the man who created it, Mr. Seth Cohen, has stolen my heart.
I woule never be able to make it in the O.C. In fact, there are times when I wonder if I can really make it in this small rural town in which I am currently living. But I suppose I'm here for now.
I finished the fourth season the other day. Now it's all over and I'm back in my own life. And while my life is never as sensational as the television lives I have become engrossed with, there's one thing I know. My life is a mystery. I can't read ahead on the internet to see what's up next. I'm not syndicated so people can watch me at five and then again at two in the morning. My life is all its own and it's up to me to keep it interesting.
I guess right now, I've just gotta wait and figure out what I want just for today...
I have thrown myself into television on DVDs. At first, it was the Gilmore Girls. Then, I rewatched Grey's Anatomy. But then I discovered my haven. It was The O.C.
I have never lived in California. In fact, I don't know that California would ever take me into her world. I don't know how to surf. My hair isn't blonde anymore, let alone reasonably presentable. And I've never tried to wear a bikini. But this show has me hooked.
Chrismukkah got me for sure. A special holiday in which we bring all the goodness of different traditions into one house is ideal. And the man who created it, Mr. Seth Cohen, has stolen my heart.
I woule never be able to make it in the O.C. In fact, there are times when I wonder if I can really make it in this small rural town in which I am currently living. But I suppose I'm here for now.
I finished the fourth season the other day. Now it's all over and I'm back in my own life. And while my life is never as sensational as the television lives I have become engrossed with, there's one thing I know. My life is a mystery. I can't read ahead on the internet to see what's up next. I'm not syndicated so people can watch me at five and then again at two in the morning. My life is all its own and it's up to me to keep it interesting.
I guess right now, I've just gotta wait and figure out what I want just for today...
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
There is a distinct smell on the lower class of people: stale cigarette smoke and greasy fast food. When customers enter my work with some such stench, I try to decipher the smell. Where were they eating? What kind of food? Were they smoking with friends? Alone? Do they smoke a pack a day or just a couple of cigarettes a day?
I would never ask these questions aloud...or would I? If I weren't working on paying off my debt, I wouldn't bat an eyelash and I'd just ask. But these days, I must preserve my current position.
I would never ask these questions aloud...or would I? If I weren't working on paying off my debt, I wouldn't bat an eyelash and I'd just ask. But these days, I must preserve my current position.
Monday, February 18, 2008
days off
Having days off like today give me great insight. I know the truth. My future is on the beach. Debt-less. Bill-less. Sipping coctails, reading books, and writing. That is the life.
Some might think that sporting aspirations to be a beach bum makes one weak-minded or stupid. Such is most definitely not the case. The life I aspire to shows honesty which most people are not willing to admit.
Some might think that sporting aspirations to be a beach bum makes one weak-minded or stupid. Such is most definitely not the case. The life I aspire to shows honesty which most people are not willing to admit.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Geeky guys
Geeky guys. They read comic books, watch Star Wars. They get science. Computers come easy to them. In my experience, they know good music. They're incredibly smart. They tell funny jokes. Geeky guys are cool.
Monday, February 4, 2008
15,000 germs
According to my father, when a person with a cold coughs into the air, 15,000 germs hit the air, flying around until they find weakless hosts to grab onto. Today, I am one of those people with the millions of germs just lining up to be forced out of my throat by the wicked wind. At work, my short, Asian co-worker also had a cough and shared a ricola with me to aid in the healing process.
The cough season is the worst of all seasons. Not only is it too cold outside for any of us normal people to enjoy, but it is also a time of raspy voices and bad hair days.
It's half past six. Maybe if I go to bed by seven, I'll fight these germs to their death.
The cough season is the worst of all seasons. Not only is it too cold outside for any of us normal people to enjoy, but it is also a time of raspy voices and bad hair days.
It's half past six. Maybe if I go to bed by seven, I'll fight these germs to their death.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
killing time with a useless survey
This is one of those question thingies. Enjoy...
1. What is your occupation? production worker
2. What color are your socks right now? i'm barefoot at the moment
3. What are you listening to right now ? Center Stage on the TV
4. What was the last thing that you ate? a mini Reese's Peanut Butter cup
5. Can you drive a stick shift? oh yeah. and i love it.
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? purple mountain magesty
7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? my mom
8. How old are you today? 24
9. Favorite drink? VITAMIN WATER!!!
10. What is your favorite sport to watch? soccer or American football
11. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes. and it's not always been good!
12. Favorite Pets? Kyzya, my Ukrainian parents' cute tabby cat
13. Favorite food? sandwiches, gala apples
14. What was the last movie you watched? I'm in the middle of Center Stage which I haven't seen in over two and a half years.
15. Favorite holiday of the year? Christmas
16. What do you do to vent anger? walk, scream
17. What was your favorite toy as a child? the old school tupperware toys we'd put together in the tub.
18. What is your favorite, fall or spring? fall because of the colors but spring because of the flowers and my birthday.
19. Hugs or kisses? from who?
20. Cherries or Blueberries? blueberries in cheesecake but to eat plain, definitely bing cherries.
21. Living arrangements? I live with my parents. That's right, a 24 year old girl who lives with her parents
26. What is on the floor of your closet? suitcase, flipflops
29. Favorite smells? fruit smells, flowers, spring
30. What inspires you? my dreams
31. What are you afraid of? dying too young
32. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? bbq
33. How many years at your current job? one week
35. Favorite place you've ever been? Krakow, Poland
36. How many states have you lived in? Oregon, Kentucky, and Idaho
37. Favorite day of the week? Thursday. It used to be Friends night.
38. Ever driven motorcycle or heavy machinery? um, does a tractor count
39. Who's your favorite NFL team? Green Bay Packers, only because I used to have a crush on Brett Favre
40. Do you have a house phone that is not cordless? nope!
1. What is your occupation? production worker
2. What color are your socks right now? i'm barefoot at the moment
3. What are you listening to right now ? Center Stage on the TV
4. What was the last thing that you ate? a mini Reese's Peanut Butter cup
5. Can you drive a stick shift? oh yeah. and i love it.
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? purple mountain magesty
7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? my mom
8. How old are you today? 24
9. Favorite drink? VITAMIN WATER!!!
10. What is your favorite sport to watch? soccer or American football
11. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes. and it's not always been good!
12. Favorite Pets? Kyzya, my Ukrainian parents' cute tabby cat
13. Favorite food? sandwiches, gala apples
14. What was the last movie you watched? I'm in the middle of Center Stage which I haven't seen in over two and a half years.
15. Favorite holiday of the year? Christmas
16. What do you do to vent anger? walk, scream
17. What was your favorite toy as a child? the old school tupperware toys we'd put together in the tub.
18. What is your favorite, fall or spring? fall because of the colors but spring because of the flowers and my birthday.
19. Hugs or kisses? from who?
20. Cherries or Blueberries? blueberries in cheesecake but to eat plain, definitely bing cherries.
21. Living arrangements? I live with my parents. That's right, a 24 year old girl who lives with her parents
26. What is on the floor of your closet? suitcase, flipflops
29. Favorite smells? fruit smells, flowers, spring
30. What inspires you? my dreams
31. What are you afraid of? dying too young
32. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? bbq
33. How many years at your current job? one week
35. Favorite place you've ever been? Krakow, Poland
36. How many states have you lived in? Oregon, Kentucky, and Idaho
37. Favorite day of the week? Thursday. It used to be Friends night.
38. Ever driven motorcycle or heavy machinery? um, does a tractor count
39. Who's your favorite NFL team? Green Bay Packers, only because I used to have a crush on Brett Favre
40. Do you have a house phone that is not cordless? nope!
nuts and bolts
I grew up in the Bunn family. Bunn men own tools. My father owned a lot of tools. His garage is still a sea of various power drills and mini screwdrivers. But I was always the little princess. Tools never interested me. The only tools I have ever owned were a few hammers I bought to hang things on my wall. And there were the nails. Other than that tools are just foreign objects.
Until now.
Now I have a job. It's a job that requires power tools.
Now power tools don't really fit with Rece or what she stands for. In fact, Rece is very much against the type of work that requires such use of the hands. And yet, Rece is working at the factory. She's gotta get money to pay off those college loans somehow.
Until now.
Now I have a job. It's a job that requires power tools.
Now power tools don't really fit with Rece or what she stands for. In fact, Rece is very much against the type of work that requires such use of the hands. And yet, Rece is working at the factory. She's gotta get money to pay off those college loans somehow.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
small parts
I have a job. The job isn't something grand or mind-blowing. In fact, the job doesn't require much mind use at all. I put parts together. That's it. I spend ten hours a day putting parts together. Great, right? Soon, I'll find a job that really uses my mind. Well, maybe not in this rural area but soon, I'll move to a cool place and do what I want.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
day in, day out
Finding a job is a merciless process. Whoever thought finding a job would be easy must have had a family member or family friend GIVE him or her the job. When living in a rural area where your family members are regular ol' blokes, a person might have many difficulties finding a job.
But as I believe I am an incredible candidate for any job out there, I am going to hope for the best. Perhaps a fantastic job is coming as soon as I vacate the phone line.
But as I believe I am an incredible candidate for any job out there, I am going to hope for the best. Perhaps a fantastic job is coming as soon as I vacate the phone line.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Live in Slave
Moving in with the parents is not necessarily something one brags about. Men who live with their mothers are the butt of more jokes than G W. It's not that living with one's parents is not a sensible, economic move. It can be very good for one's financial situation, but that doesn't change the fact that when asked by an old acquaintance where one lives, admission of "with the 'rents" is said with a little bit of remorse.
I have moved back in with my parents numerous times. Every summer, I'd move back to this small country house in Dayton, Oregon. I usually got a crap manual labor job, for two years at two different factories. Or my dad would con me into "working for him" driving a tractor on our so called farm. It was never something I enjoyed doing. I have always hated hot weather and each second in the sun has left me at a higher risk of skin cancer than had I found a fun inside job.
Since my last move home, I have officially become the live in help. Dishes every day. Getting people water. Cleaning up the mud other people have dragged in. It's not that I don't mind helping out but it makes me wonder, what if I was thirsty or what if I had a friend who wanted to visit me? Would any preparations be made or as the free maid should I expect to just kill my hands from all the dishes and wait for the bell of the one sitting on the couch?
I have moved back in with my parents numerous times. Every summer, I'd move back to this small country house in Dayton, Oregon. I usually got a crap manual labor job, for two years at two different factories. Or my dad would con me into "working for him" driving a tractor on our so called farm. It was never something I enjoyed doing. I have always hated hot weather and each second in the sun has left me at a higher risk of skin cancer than had I found a fun inside job.
Since my last move home, I have officially become the live in help. Dishes every day. Getting people water. Cleaning up the mud other people have dragged in. It's not that I don't mind helping out but it makes me wonder, what if I was thirsty or what if I had a friend who wanted to visit me? Would any preparations be made or as the free maid should I expect to just kill my hands from all the dishes and wait for the bell of the one sitting on the couch?
Friday, January 11, 2008
crashing the pow-wow
They sit in a small cirle, smoking their pipes and munching on salty pieces of buffalo jerkey. They discuss the new settlers that have taken to their land and ways they can dissuade the newcomers from permanent settlement. The young warrior has just taken a drag on the pipe. He sees me as I enter and begins to cough. All eyes turn towards me, the intruder.
This morning, as I went through my first job interview since re-entry to the states, I felt like the intruder Spending seven years away from the community in which I grew up makes me feel like an outsider. I am alien to the community in which everyone knows everyone else and gossip reaches the entire population as the avian flu takes over Europe.
I didn't think life in America would ever be this hard on me.
This morning, as I went through my first job interview since re-entry to the states, I felt like the intruder Spending seven years away from the community in which I grew up makes me feel like an outsider. I am alien to the community in which everyone knows everyone else and gossip reaches the entire population as the avian flu takes over Europe.
I didn't think life in America would ever be this hard on me.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Fighting through the Jungle
A person's lawn says a lot about them. The kitsch gnomes in the front lawn. Old cars rusting up along the side of the house. Expensive roses or flowers planted in fancy patterns throughout. In Ukraine, lawns did not exist. After all, what is the purpose of lawns? You can't grow anything on them. Dog poop is not appreciated on them. What are they but a waste of good land?
The lawn connected to the house in which I now live has seen better days. When I returned to the states on December 16th, the leaves from early October had soaked into the green grass. Apples were still rotting amongst the leaves and the tops of the trees had become so jungle like, having not been pruned for over two years.
This morning, I decided to take on the backyard jungle to which I am geographically attached. It was up to me, the youngest of the tenants at this address, to fight this rabid jungle.
I moved to the back of the property first, raking up the leaves by the back three apple trees. It wasn't as easy as would have been when the leaves first fell for now the ground was sopping wet and the leaves had engrained themselves in the mud. My dad's cow was staring at me as I raked and belted out the words to Breakin' Dishes. I'm sure he must have been shocked to see a woman out in the back, seeing as how my mother takes no serious interest in the going-ons of the "BBJ Ranch".
With a few blisters on my fingers, I headed over to the main part of the back lawn near the walnut and filbert trees. I had only established five medium sized piles when I lost all interest. Fun was definitely not a part of raking a rain soaked lawn.
I have always considered myself to be an adventure woman, but today's events have led me to think that perhaps my delicate hands aren't cut out for manual labor and that perhaps I truly need to find myself a real job.
The lawn connected to the house in which I now live has seen better days. When I returned to the states on December 16th, the leaves from early October had soaked into the green grass. Apples were still rotting amongst the leaves and the tops of the trees had become so jungle like, having not been pruned for over two years.
This morning, I decided to take on the backyard jungle to which I am geographically attached. It was up to me, the youngest of the tenants at this address, to fight this rabid jungle.
I moved to the back of the property first, raking up the leaves by the back three apple trees. It wasn't as easy as would have been when the leaves first fell for now the ground was sopping wet and the leaves had engrained themselves in the mud. My dad's cow was staring at me as I raked and belted out the words to Breakin' Dishes. I'm sure he must have been shocked to see a woman out in the back, seeing as how my mother takes no serious interest in the going-ons of the "BBJ Ranch".
With a few blisters on my fingers, I headed over to the main part of the back lawn near the walnut and filbert trees. I had only established five medium sized piles when I lost all interest. Fun was definitely not a part of raking a rain soaked lawn.
I have always considered myself to be an adventure woman, but today's events have led me to think that perhaps my delicate hands aren't cut out for manual labor and that perhaps I truly need to find myself a real job.
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