Woah... My Journal Feels Neglected
So.... I haven't updated in over a month. Congratulations to me! Not really, but I'm always a bit proud of myself whenever I stay away from the computer. I tend to stay on the computer far too long far too often, so I'm either living around the computer or living away from it. Strange, but true.
One might ask what I've been up to since my last post. I would like to reply that I've scaled mountains, dived to the bottom of the sea, swum with dolphins, and given all I've got to the needy. However, I am very far from such perfection (or is it stupendous insanity?), and the truth only serves to disappoint. I have been reading, doing school summer work and preparation, and watching hordes of anime. My favorite of the three? The last. I finished Noir an hour ago or so, and I enjoyed it very much. The first ten episodes or so should be watched with intervals between. For example, watch one episode a day. Then watch the remaining sixteen altogether. As my reasoning, you see, the first half or so repeats itself in a nearly unendurable fashion. Then it gets interesting. Very much so. I honestly didn't know how I wanted it to end, but I knew I didn't want anyone else to die. Of course, people did die, and I eventually knew what sort of ending to root for. All in all, very suspenseful, very intriguing, and orchestrated very well.
Now for my most interesting bit of news! I was rebellious on Saturday! Not very much so, but a decent amount for me because I... got my ear pierced! Not just pierced ears! An "extra piercing" pierce. Left ear, at the top rim where it would be pointy were I an elf. I've always loved pierced ears, but my parents only allowed me to do my lobes, forbidding any further holes until I turned eighteen and paid for it myself. One day, as I entertained thoughts of future appearances to try out, I realized I could go ahead and pay to have people stab me wherever I wanted because now I was that magic, legal age! My original plan was to go to the mall and have the local Claire's perform the operation, but I called the hip young wife of one of my dad's business partners. I explained what I wanted to do and asked her if she knew any other places I could have it pierced. To my surprise she answered yes! She knew someone who could do it for free! "Really!" I said, "That sounds lovely (if a bit questionable). Who?" Her husband, a surgeon, has access to needles and everything else needed, but more importantly, he has experience. "Okay," I agreed. "Sounds awesome. Let's do it when you guys come over on Saturday (referring to earlier plans made by father)." After other necessary advice pertaining to what sort of earrings to buy, where to buy them, how to care for the piercing, etc., I hung up the phone with swirling emotions of independence and power.
Saturday came, and my ear and I were ready. Were I not hiding all information of the deed from my parents, I would have run up to our guests yelling "PIERCE ME!" However, etiquette, subtlety, and the fact that I slept in past their arrival time of 3 o'clock kept me docile. I simply waited and didn't even have to do that for very long. The eldest of our guests' children Maddie (or is it Maddy?) requested with great interest to watch as her father wielded a sharp metal stick dangerously close to my skull. Despite the needle and the audience and my low threshold for pain, I didn't squeak or cry of even squirm throughout the entire process. And the process sucked. The needle didn't hurt when it went through, and it didn't even hurt as it sat there in my ear. Inevitably, Maddie asked if it hurt, and I replied, "No. Wait. Okay, now it does since you asked." It did hurt, too. A burning sensation, like a flat iron clamped onto my ear. Maddie gaped as her father removed the needle and attempted to hook the hoop through. It only went halfway through. Surgeon though he is, his careful handiwork stung and hoop refused to emerge. Gandalf was probably stuck up in the rim of my ear shouting, "You! Shall not! Pass!" The stupid old man. So El Doctor took out the hoop and pierced the ear again and let the needle settle longer. Then he tried again, and after some swearing and further apologies, he succeeded. My ear might have been as red as a freaking cherry, but I felt pretty damn hot. It was a very neat experience, and though I declined piercing the other ear that day, I don't think I would mind having it done again. I intend to keep my ear clean in order to avoid the risk of infection, and I stay conscious of it at all times since it is understandably sore. Piercing the rims of the ears hurts more than the lobes, as I have witnessed. As for my parents' reactions, El Doctor informed my father beforehand since they are partners and all, but my mother was left in the dark. Until that evening. After shoving my hair behind my left ear several times and leaning into my mother's line of vision, she stopped mid-sentence, stepped up to me, her hand hand raised to my ear. She barely touched it, would have pulled at it a bit had I not grinned and backed away.
"Is that real?"
"Yes."
"When did you get it done?"
"Earlier today! Dr. ****** did it!"
"When?"
"When you were showering Conner."
"What was the rule?"
We argued about the rule, which I misremembered according to her. I hold that it was under the condition that I pay for it, but apparently I had to be paying for everything else in my life as well. According to her, I should be out of college and paying my way in life before I make any decisions about where I put holes into my body. She was genuinely upset, but not out of control with rage or anything. She seemed disappointed in me, and I fell to groveling with her, trying to make her see that I thought it through, was prepared, even talked to an adult for advice. "Mrs. ****** said it looked cute," I said, and that opened her up a little bit to it. I don't really know how she views piercing, but I think of it as added jewelry. I wouldn't pierce my nose, but I think it looks attractive on some people. I might have my bellybutton done. I don't show my midriff much, but I think it would be cute. As for more on my ears, I don't know yet, but I might. It's all really fun, and in most places it won't matter because you can take the earring out and if the hole is small enough, no one will know. And if you decide you don't like it, you can remove the earring, and the skin will grow together. It's pretty simple and pretty painful. All in all, I thought it was great fun.
I leave for Centre in five more days. I'm sort of nervous, but my roommate's enthusiasm inspires excitement in my otherwise dulled emotions. I'm at the point where I almost don't care, I just don't want to cry. I can always cry later if I need to. I just don't know if I need to yet.
Oh! I remembered another really funny story! I babysat Lucy on Friday night, and we were playing and watching her Barbie starring as Rapunzel movie. Lucy told me that the bad lady in the movie was really bad. She said a bad word.
"What word?" I asked. I mean, it was a Barbie movie. How bad a word could she say?
"It starts with 'sh,'" Lucy said, looking at me as pointedly as a four-year-old can.
"... Shoot? ... Shut up?" I guessed.
Lucy shook her head, a bit exasperated. "Shit," she uttered just over a whisper with another pointed look.
I was completely taken aback. "Well! No wonder she's bad! I can't believe she said it! What a mean woman!"
Inwardly, I cringed. How could I have a virtually perfect record babysitting this child for four years, and then, one week before I leave, I have her cussing? I didn't teach her the word or encourage it, but what if she told her parents about it or something? What if somehow it sounded to them like I did something? Fretting the rest of the movie, I never did hear "the bad lady" say anything worse than "you wretched girl" or something along those lines, so I'm not sure where Lucy's information came from. As long as it's not me! She's such a funny girl, and I'll miss her so much.
One might ask what I've been up to since my last post. I would like to reply that I've scaled mountains, dived to the bottom of the sea, swum with dolphins, and given all I've got to the needy. However, I am very far from such perfection (or is it stupendous insanity?), and the truth only serves to disappoint. I have been reading, doing school summer work and preparation, and watching hordes of anime. My favorite of the three? The last. I finished Noir an hour ago or so, and I enjoyed it very much. The first ten episodes or so should be watched with intervals between. For example, watch one episode a day. Then watch the remaining sixteen altogether. As my reasoning, you see, the first half or so repeats itself in a nearly unendurable fashion. Then it gets interesting. Very much so. I honestly didn't know how I wanted it to end, but I knew I didn't want anyone else to die. Of course, people did die, and I eventually knew what sort of ending to root for. All in all, very suspenseful, very intriguing, and orchestrated very well.
Now for my most interesting bit of news! I was rebellious on Saturday! Not very much so, but a decent amount for me because I... got my ear pierced! Not just pierced ears! An "extra piercing" pierce. Left ear, at the top rim where it would be pointy were I an elf. I've always loved pierced ears, but my parents only allowed me to do my lobes, forbidding any further holes until I turned eighteen and paid for it myself. One day, as I entertained thoughts of future appearances to try out, I realized I could go ahead and pay to have people stab me wherever I wanted because now I was that magic, legal age! My original plan was to go to the mall and have the local Claire's perform the operation, but I called the hip young wife of one of my dad's business partners. I explained what I wanted to do and asked her if she knew any other places I could have it pierced. To my surprise she answered yes! She knew someone who could do it for free! "Really!" I said, "That sounds lovely (if a bit questionable). Who?" Her husband, a surgeon, has access to needles and everything else needed, but more importantly, he has experience. "Okay," I agreed. "Sounds awesome. Let's do it when you guys come over on Saturday (referring to earlier plans made by father)." After other necessary advice pertaining to what sort of earrings to buy, where to buy them, how to care for the piercing, etc., I hung up the phone with swirling emotions of independence and power.
Saturday came, and my ear and I were ready. Were I not hiding all information of the deed from my parents, I would have run up to our guests yelling "PIERCE ME!" However, etiquette, subtlety, and the fact that I slept in past their arrival time of 3 o'clock kept me docile. I simply waited and didn't even have to do that for very long. The eldest of our guests' children Maddie (or is it Maddy?) requested with great interest to watch as her father wielded a sharp metal stick dangerously close to my skull. Despite the needle and the audience and my low threshold for pain, I didn't squeak or cry of even squirm throughout the entire process. And the process sucked. The needle didn't hurt when it went through, and it didn't even hurt as it sat there in my ear. Inevitably, Maddie asked if it hurt, and I replied, "No. Wait. Okay, now it does since you asked." It did hurt, too. A burning sensation, like a flat iron clamped onto my ear. Maddie gaped as her father removed the needle and attempted to hook the hoop through. It only went halfway through. Surgeon though he is, his careful handiwork stung and hoop refused to emerge. Gandalf was probably stuck up in the rim of my ear shouting, "You! Shall not! Pass!" The stupid old man. So El Doctor took out the hoop and pierced the ear again and let the needle settle longer. Then he tried again, and after some swearing and further apologies, he succeeded. My ear might have been as red as a freaking cherry, but I felt pretty damn hot. It was a very neat experience, and though I declined piercing the other ear that day, I don't think I would mind having it done again. I intend to keep my ear clean in order to avoid the risk of infection, and I stay conscious of it at all times since it is understandably sore. Piercing the rims of the ears hurts more than the lobes, as I have witnessed. As for my parents' reactions, El Doctor informed my father beforehand since they are partners and all, but my mother was left in the dark. Until that evening. After shoving my hair behind my left ear several times and leaning into my mother's line of vision, she stopped mid-sentence, stepped up to me, her hand hand raised to my ear. She barely touched it, would have pulled at it a bit had I not grinned and backed away.
"Is that real?"
"Yes."
"When did you get it done?"
"Earlier today! Dr. ****** did it!"
"When?"
"When you were showering Conner."
"What was the rule?"
We argued about the rule, which I misremembered according to her. I hold that it was under the condition that I pay for it, but apparently I had to be paying for everything else in my life as well. According to her, I should be out of college and paying my way in life before I make any decisions about where I put holes into my body. She was genuinely upset, but not out of control with rage or anything. She seemed disappointed in me, and I fell to groveling with her, trying to make her see that I thought it through, was prepared, even talked to an adult for advice. "Mrs. ****** said it looked cute," I said, and that opened her up a little bit to it. I don't really know how she views piercing, but I think of it as added jewelry. I wouldn't pierce my nose, but I think it looks attractive on some people. I might have my bellybutton done. I don't show my midriff much, but I think it would be cute. As for more on my ears, I don't know yet, but I might. It's all really fun, and in most places it won't matter because you can take the earring out and if the hole is small enough, no one will know. And if you decide you don't like it, you can remove the earring, and the skin will grow together. It's pretty simple and pretty painful. All in all, I thought it was great fun.
I leave for Centre in five more days. I'm sort of nervous, but my roommate's enthusiasm inspires excitement in my otherwise dulled emotions. I'm at the point where I almost don't care, I just don't want to cry. I can always cry later if I need to. I just don't know if I need to yet.
Oh! I remembered another really funny story! I babysat Lucy on Friday night, and we were playing and watching her Barbie starring as Rapunzel movie. Lucy told me that the bad lady in the movie was really bad. She said a bad word.
"What word?" I asked. I mean, it was a Barbie movie. How bad a word could she say?
"It starts with 'sh,'" Lucy said, looking at me as pointedly as a four-year-old can.
"... Shoot? ... Shut up?" I guessed.
Lucy shook her head, a bit exasperated. "Shit," she uttered just over a whisper with another pointed look.
I was completely taken aback. "Well! No wonder she's bad! I can't believe she said it! What a mean woman!"
Inwardly, I cringed. How could I have a virtually perfect record babysitting this child for four years, and then, one week before I leave, I have her cussing? I didn't teach her the word or encourage it, but what if she told her parents about it or something? What if somehow it sounded to them like I did something? Fretting the rest of the movie, I never did hear "the bad lady" say anything worse than "you wretched girl" or something along those lines, so I'm not sure where Lucy's information came from. As long as it's not me! She's such a funny girl, and I'll miss her so much.