Trouble with Typing

I have more luck with writing when I use paper and pen. Typing things out on a keyboard is all fine and dandy, but it takes me twice as long. I can't organize my thoughts when I'm staring at a virtual blank page on a screen. The flashing little line (does it have a name?) mocks me. It's a silent metronome that is waiting for me to play to its beat. Unnerving when you don't know the music.

So, as you might have guessed, I am writing this on paper first and will transcribe later. Later being now. Or whenever.

rough draft

My thoughts are always so scattered when I write (and most other times too) that I need a physical space to lay them out before I piece them together into something worthwhile. Or at least something coherent. On a computer screen I can't just stop mid-sentence and scribble a new idea in the margins. Well actually one can do that with the right software, but it's quicker with paper and pen. My ideas flow with ease when I am manually writing. Like ink from a pen. (wink wink) And if the pen slips, so what? Write around it. No need to backspace or delete. When using a computer, I feel like I need to know where all the pieces belong right from the get-go. It's a silly notion considering how much simpler it is to cut and paste in a Word document. I feel so boxed in when I write on a computer. For heaven's sake, I'm staring at a literal box as I do it.

I just spent an hour working a post for this blog by typing it out on a computer. I maybe got 100 words out. There were too many things to distract my already scattered brain. Ideas flit in and out too fast for me to grab hold of them and type them out. (not to mention the Internet) I have now been writing for 10-ish minutes and already I have a page filled in my notebook and my mind has calmed down. I can think clearer.Getting the words out is so much more fulfilling when they are on paper.

Another benefit of writing before typing is it gives me a chance to proofread what I've written in a more thorough way. Typing something out and reading though it does not help me catch all my mistakes. But if I basically have to write the whole thing again I can really pick apart what I've written. I get a better understanding of what works and what doesn't. I feel more confident in what I've written when I have to write it twice.

To me, computers seem to demand precision. Obviously they don't, otherwise we wouldn't the magic of spell check. But that's the feeling I get. The way I write is not precise. I'm not sure anyone's is. Writing is messy. Then you go back and refine it. When I'm typing I feel the need to already have my ideas in order and neatly refined.

This is all just personal preference. Everyone's process is different. Perhaps if I had embraced this process earlier I would have finished my English assignments in a more timely fashion. Though I would have felt foolish whipping out a notebook and pencil when literally everyone else in the class was using a computer.

Certified

As I mentioned in my previous post, I am currently working as a Certified Nursing Assistant at the local nursing home.

the best part of my job. i waited five months to get it.

For those of you who don't know what that means, let me break it down for you: nurses handle the pills and the paperwork. CNAs do everything else. 

the scrubs are sexy
until someone else's fluids get on them

Of course I'm exaggerating. But we do most of the heavy lifting. (literal heavy lifting in most cases) We also spend the most time with the residents. But that's a bonus. Other bonuses include losing 30lbs from running around lifting people all day and never being grossed out by anything ever again because you've already seen worse. You get attached to these people despite yourself. Even to the 'difficult' ones. Turns out cute little old ladies can have a hell of a right hook. I knew it was going to be hard work. But nothing quite prepares you from what you will have to do, see, and put up with. And when shit goes down, it all goes down all at once. (literal and figurative)

So why did I choose this line of work? Well for starters the building is within easy walking distance. (takes me three minutes to get there; five when there's snow) But mostly I chose it because of my grandma. When she had her stroke and had to go live in a long term care facility, it was hard for her. She kept saying she didn't want it to be her home.When mum and I visited (which was often and involved a three hour drive) she would tell us she didn't know how the aids there did what they did. She was so grateful for the good ones. And so hurt by the ones that didn't care. When she passed, I decided I would try my hand at being one of the good ones.

And that's all I've got to say about that. For reasons both legal and personal, I shall not discuss work here. The legal part should be obvious. If you don't know what HIPPA is, you should. It's kinda your right. Also, if I violate it I could get in huge trouble. Getting fined, having my certification revoked, and possible jail time. Personally, I don't want to talk about work on the internet. From what I've seen, not much good can come from that.

Also, it's nearly 2 am. Lunch time.

Hello Internet, My Old Friend

I've come to talk with you again. It's been awhile. Things have changed, as they tend to do. It's 5:30 in the morning as I type this. Why am I awake this early? Well, this is no longer early to me.

See, I have a job now. I am a CNA at the nursing home in my hometown and I voluntarily chose to work the night shift. I usually work three 12 hour shifts and one 5 hour shift a week. Well that's the idea anyway. But more often than not I end up with overtime because (surprise, surprise) nobody wants to work the night shift. I for one enjoy it. Less people. And I was always a night owl anyway. Sure it can be lonely and it's hard to make plans with people, but it's working for me for now. Well, it's working for the most part.

The point is my schedule has flipped around. I sleep in the day and I am awake through the night. Or I'm supposed to be. Occasionally I'll sleep at night a bit too. It's been six months but my body still hasn't decided to accept the arrangement completely. But I digress.

So here I sit on my night off in my boyfriend's living room while he and his roommate are asleep and I can't figure out how to work his damn TV.

all i want to do is play Lego Marvel Super Heroes.

If you think that's a nice set up for someone one year out of college, you should see his desktop:

the most expensive thing in this photo is the stand holding all of the monitors.
it's also the heaviest. i know. i helped move it.

My only companion at the moment is his ridiculously fat cat. Her name is Emmy and this picture does her no justice. She is huge. And heavy. But surprisingly agile...

...though you wouldn't guess so from this pose.

We have a tentative agreement: I feed her in the morning when I'm here and she accepts my presence without argument. It's a tenuous friendship.

But again, I digress.

I have plans internet. But this post is already long enough. My hope is in these silent hours I will once again find the gumption to write. It's all apart of the plan.

Liz Lemon Gif Party!

A few years ago my friend Molly introduced me to the show 30 Rock. 

I was going somewhere with that thought but now I'm hung up on the idea that this happened years ago. Years. It's disconcerting to think about years and how they are passing. Like this is life or something. Now I've stumbled upon a minor existential crisis...

But now we're back to talking about television. 

So 30 Rock was a show. A good show. And, I just found out, an award-winning show. I didn't realize how good until last week when I began watching the entire series. Up until then I'd only seen an episode here and there. Watching it, I found myself kinda wanting to be Liz Lemon. For Pete's sake, she got married as Princess Leia! How much better can you get? 

Then I realize how idiotic that is because a) fictional character and b) completely dysfunctional human. But Tina Fey makes it look so fun and awesome. 

I don't want to like Ms. Fey. I don't know why. I find her so intensely annoying on some level. But on all the other levels she's smart, hilarious, and I love her. 

On a side note, (because my brain is scattered today and I'm finding difficult to focus in on any one thing in particular (except how to be redundant)) I had a teacher in middle school that looked just like Kathy Geiss. 

fact. uncomfortable fact.

Anyway I finished the series last night and it bummed me out. Also, I've humming the theme song all day. *exciting jazz music*

I Swear I Used to Be Good at This

I really wanted to write something today but I'm finding that I  have nothing to say. I feel like I've talked myself out today anyway.

I went to a funeral today with my mother. (there have been too many funerals this year, but that's beside the point) We left town at around seven this morning. It was a three hour drive to the church where the service was being held. I didn't get much sleep last night ( I don't think I got more than three hours in) so I brought a large coffee with. Coffee always makes me chatty. So that's what I did. I talked and talked while my mum listened, amused.

The entire trip back I was thinking about writing. However, by the time we got home I was incredibly tired. I tried to stay awake but at around six this evening I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. I slept until eleven. And now here I am. Minutes to midnight, wide awake, and with nothing interesting to say.

Picture It

Shall I make a confession? I think I shall. I'm in that sort of mood tonight. Though using the word 'confession' has negative connotations. Frankly, I don't find anything wrong with this particular predilection.

I love the classic television series The Golden Girls. Freaking love it.

For years now I have loved this show. It's  been consistently syndicated on one network or another and for the last seven or eight years I have been inconsistently watching. Every few years I see it again and I remember how much I love it. I've probably seen every episode three or four times. Can't be sure though. Haven't bothered to look that up.

irrelevant, but delightful 

But even though I've seen it over and over, it never gets old. It's my feel good show. Whenever I'm feeling down, I watch a few episodes and I'm good. It's the mashed potatoes of late night television. And as I looked about the internet for these gifs, I learned I'm not the only one who feels this way:

mine too, fellow random blogger, mine too

I love those filthy old ladies.

haha. sluts.

*Bonus gif set:

Starting

I was going to save this for the first of October or maybe the fifth because I like starting things on days that feel like beginnings. But I just need to get some words on the page. No more stalling.

It's been a few months. I've been meaning to post for a long time now. Unfortunately, every time I sit down to write the thought of talking about these months depresses me. So I'm going to skip all of that, keep it light, and pick up with something completely different.

Where to begin? Well, I suppose I should start with what I know best: books, movies, music. The three basic food groups. And since books is first, I'll begin there.

So I've been a bit of a dry spell. One that's lasted for several months now. I'll start one book, get a few chapters in, then completely lose interest. Back to the shelf it goes. Or worse, it sits on the trunk I have next to my bed. Perched there, it becomes the first thing I see in the morning. It mocks me. Calls me a fake. Tells me I am no true bibliophile. But I am! I swear I am! Or at least I was.

I have had some luck recently though. I've been able to read two books back to back. Actually, there were three if you count The Last Lecture. But I read that out of desperation. I was stranded for six hours. It was available (and only about two hundred pages). Turns out it wasn't too bad. Not my usual thing, but a decent read nonetheless.

Then I started in on what I like to call my "Remarkable Rummage Sale Collection."

Story: Mum and I used to go rummaging together during the summers. About four or five years ago we were in some stranger's garage looking at their trash and hoping to find some treasure. I happen upon a bookcase full of literature for sale. Now, finding books at a rummage sale is quite common. What was remarkable about this find was each book was a hardcover in excellent condition priced at 50 cents a pop. They were recent books too; most of them were published within the last decade. I started browsing and found a few that I'd like to get to know better. I think I walked away with over 20 books for 10 dollars. If I remember correctly, the actual total came out to $11.50 but the lady said a ten would do. Outstanding.

Anyway, over the years I've gotten through about five or six of them (other books always seem to find a way to cut in line). But now I've started working through them again. First one was Medicus by Ruth Downie. Next came The Romanov Prophecy by Steve Berry. Both quite delightful books that I thoroughly enjoyed. Up next is a book called Druids by Morgan Llywelyn.

It's a good thing I try really hard not to judge a book it's cover because the cover that came with this one is just awful. 

see? ugly.

Thank god it's just the dust jacket. I dislike dust jackets. I find them redundant. And I hate reading a book with the dust jacket still on. Dust jackets get in the way and always end up ripped. First thing I do when I acquire a book with a dust jacket is to take it off and put it in a bag with all the other dust jackets. 

dust jackets

Well, wish me luck. I hope this reading trend continues for a long while.

Going Steady

This last weekend my home town had a carnival. They have it every summer but I hadn't gone in years. Nothing had really changed. It's your average small town fair I suppose. Though I don't recall ever going to any other small town fairs. So who am I to say it's average?

There are a few rides: the Octopus, the Tilt-a-Whirl, a carousel, swings, the Scrambler (though this time it was a different machine and they called it the Sizzler). And this year they had a Ferris Wheel. They never had one when I was growing up. They had the Zipper for a few years but that disappeared by the time I was old enough to not be afraid to ride it. Unfortunately, the Ferris Wheel was not cooperating with us that evening so we never got to ride that.

There's the typical carnival food: corn dogs, cotton candy, funnel cake. I only partook of the last one. God, it was good. I freaking love fried dough. Now I'm hungry.

Then there were carnival games. You know the type. Throwing darts at balloons, knocking over cups, picking a rubber duck from a pool, tossing a ring. Well, that last one wasn't there this year. Actually, I'm not sure it was ever there. I never played any of those games. I always spent my money on food and rides. But this year was different. This year I went to the carnival with my boyfriend. I told him he needed to prove his love to me by winning me a stuffed animal. Just like the movies. Although, now that I think about it, I can't name any one movie where that happened. The image is clear in my mind: a boy Letterman's jacket with his hair slicked back, a girl in a poodle skirt with her hair tied in a perfect bow. He either plays the shooting game, the ball toss game, or that one game where you use the comically large hammer to ring the bell. He wins a silly pink stuffed dog or something, she cheers, and they happily ever after. The scene is so familiar but I couldn't tell you where it I know it from. It's just one of those things I suppose.

Anyway, he didn't win me a pink stuffed dog. I got a green giraffe!

I named him Alfie (short for Alfonso). Way cooler than a pink dog. He was won at the duck pond game. Not as thrilling as ringing the bell, but still quite effective. And giraffes are kinda my favorite so I'm pretty excited about it.

Also, in the process of winning Alfie for me, Dustin (aka the boyfriend) acquired a few other trinkets. Turns out winning the big prize on the first go around is quite rare. Who knew?

The first game played was the gun one. In the movies it's always some cardboard duck you shoot with a water pistol. Here it was plastic cups and a rifle that shot corks.

From this game, we walked away with three 'prizes'.

This sad, misshapen elephant. His head is permanently tilted to the left and his trunk is the size of his foot. But he's still kinda cute in an awkward way. 

This mini plastic bow and arrow set. It has a little rubber suction cup like apparatus on the end, but it doesn't stick to anything. 

And I've been told this was an attempt at a frog. But to me it just looks like some deformed, pitiable creature who's given up on life.

As a side note, we're going to a drive-in movie on Friday. I kinda want to wear a poodle skirt.  

I Met a Man Named Loyal

Last week I traveled to Minnesota with my mother. My dear grandmother recently had to enter a nursing home. I never considered how complicated and expensive the process would be (who knew getting old would cost so much). It made for a difficult week. The shinning silver lining was seeing my grandmother, Evelyn. She's 95 now and up until February 1 of this year (when she had her stroke) she was one of the most active people I know. I knew it would be hard to see her resigned to a wheelchair, stuck in a nursing home. And it was. But I won't go into it.

What I will say is that my grandmother is quite popular. She genuinely loves people. She has an astounding number of friends and treasures each one. It amazes me that she can remember everyone's name, who they are related to,what they do, where they're from, etc. I wish I could be more like her. She is always writing, calling, asking people how life is going. And now that she's incapacitated, many are returning the favor. Almost everyday we were there she had another visitor. They call her Evy.

So while visiting grandma, I met a lot of people. Actually, I should I say met them again. They had seen me around when we lived in Minnesota. It's impossible for me to remember them though. I haven't lived in Minnesota since I was two. But I digress. Many of these folks had the most interesting names. 'Old people' names, you know what I mean? Ethelyde, Ardis, Muriel. Then there was a man named Loyal.

armless elfs grandma has gifted
me over the years

When we weren't at the nursing home, we were at grandma's apartment sorting through things and packing things away. I wished I had brought my camera. Grandma has collected some very interesting objets d'art in her time. Most of them are Scandinavian in nature (grandma loves showing off her Norwegian heritage). Lots of strange elf-looking things. But some really pretty pieces as well. She has a thing for blue glass. (I too have a thing for colored glass. Perhaps she is the source.)

i swiped a few

You know what else my grandma loves? Crossword puzzles. She had at least dozen books of crossword puzzles. Before calling it a day, mum and I would watch Nick at Nite together and solve some crosswords. It was more fun than it sounds.

Besides, there was no internet.

The Case of the Disappearing Streets

What summer is synonymous with? Sunny days and balmy nights? Picnics? Baseball? Ha! Not around these parts, my friends. Folks 'round here like to joke that there are only two seasons: winter and road construction. At the moment that sounds about right.

The streets surrounding my house have disappeared.

and to the right

to the left

It has something to do with the gas lines or water pipes needing to be fixed. At one point we lived next to a giant trench. No pictures of that stage though. Too many burly construction men meandering about. I was afraid to  photograph them. No men operating large machinery on a Saturday though. Also, it was raining. Which brings me to my next point...

After a winter that lingered on into May, we have finally reached the stage that, at any other time, I would be enjoying. The rain. Days and days of rain. I love the rain. The way it sounds, the way it smells. Who doesn't love it? Dull people, that's who. But this year the rain is not as welcome as it normally would be. Days of endless rain delays the work that needs to be done. The project is already estimated to take five months to finish. Delays of any sort are most unwelcome.

But the days when construction can continue are not pleasant either. More than once I've woken up to the house rattling around me. More than once I've received a headache listening to the agonizing harmonies of excavators, bulldozers, and dump trucks working in tandem. More than once I've fallen asleep to the same sounds because the men keep working after dark.

a photo taken a few weeks ago when the tree out front was full of pretty pink blossoms

I know I shouldn't complain. It needs to be done, whatever it is they're doing. The road was in terrible shape before anyway. But the inconvenience and noise is unavoidably irritating. Also it doesn't help that every other major road around the county is being worked on too (I'm exaggerating, but only slightly).

But the good news is I'm leaving tomorrow for a week-long trip with my mum.

The bad news is we're leaving to go pack up my grandmother's things because she had to be moved to a nursing home after suffering a stroke four months ago.

Life, it seems, never gets easier.