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!

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.