Updates with Rants
Isn't it pretty? All new userpics, all new layout, all new moodlet theme. I'm freaking tired, but it's done.
My grandparents have gotten here, Dakota (whom I just tried calling Dakato while trying to figure out why Chrome kept saying it was wrong. Fatigue aided Dyslexia FTW) had to go to the vet (we had ribs for dinner when my grandparents got here, they love those bones. They had too many, and hers was the stomach of three that couldn't handle it. Very uncomfortable for her but--), since she's feeling better now I can whine that the possibility of my mom borrowing money from my grandparents to get me home is out the window since they borrowed money to take her to the vet. Sigh. (I'm glad she's okay but I have a one track mind, that's the point there-- not "jeez, let the dog be uncomfortably constipated with sharp bones and just take me home!" That would just be inhuman, incanine, cruel. No.)
Hannah's was fun while uneventful. She had work most everyday, until mid Thursday she wasn't feeling well and came home and took off Friday as a result. So I played a game called Resonance of Fate, which when I first put it in the PS3 figured it was a PS3 exclusive game from the fancy cut scene graphics (and the length of the cut scenes, it's just a blu ray player! :P) but turns out I will be able to get it for the xbox 360 if I ever happen to come across it, because it does exist. And boy do I want it! It's kind of like Luminous Arc, Tales of Vesperia, Final Fantasy and Wet had a baby. There's flying through the air shooting at stuff while spinning around and dodging bullets simultaneously too, it's so cool. And an RPG, which is of course the kind of game I love.
On Friday we went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II, it was good. It wasn't amazing, it wasn't awesome, it wasn't the best movie ever, but it was good. Taking into consideration I lined up for every Harry Potter movie except the 7th (because the 6th was such a massive piece of crap) I think that's a fair enough rating. I enjoyed it, they only cocked up one part of the plot that I could remember. At the conclusion of the story, Harry has the Elder wand. I was pretty sure he was supposed to repair his own previously broken wand, then put the Elder Wand back with Dumbledore-- but in the movie he just snaps it and toss it off a bridge. But I'm not 100%, as I only just rescued my books from my closet of boxes the other day, so it'll be a little bit before I read the 7th book again.
A few days before I left Hannah's my mom asked me if Hannah wanted to stay in a tent with me when my grandparents got here, to which I responded "A Tent?" In all fairness I know exactly why she suggested it, because the first time I brought up the draft of my Summer Goals it included backyard camping. That was before I realized that here, the backyard is really just a doggy toilet, I really freaking hate bugs which are everywhere, and that I get eaten alive when I'm inside with thick blankets pulled over my head-- how's outside in a tent with a sleeping bag going to fare in comparison? Eugh. It didn't really help my mom that at the time of asking I had been sleeping on the floor for a number of days, not that she could have possibly known.
So I came back to the farm, spent a few days cleaning my room and rescuing my books. I made a real push to get my books on Tuesday though-- because I realized that my mom and John were still going to be doing their disappear-y, hold-a-job-y, never-around deal even when my grandparents were here. I'm not usually the most social with my grandparents, and I'm even less social when I'm in a crabby mood (and I think all my moods can be considered crabby while I'm still stuck out here). So rather than throw myself into technology, I figured it'd be more acceptable to throw myself into my books. Which I have dearly missed, I nearly stayed up all night reading the second night.
And now, after triumphantly updating my blog and feeling pretty good about myself-- my mom woke up and came out into the living room to let the dogs out, got all snippy with me about staying up late (during which she asked me what was with my tone, am I supposed to answer life criticisms at 5 in the morning with a happy, loving, cheerful tone?). At one point saying "I'm tired of you doing nothing all day." Cool --
I do nothing all day because there's nothing to do all day. Am I to clean her things, and sort out her home for her simply because I'm staying here? What exactly am I supposed to do when John has to work all day, and she sits around until she goes to work? It's not like I can drive to the small town and peddle my wares, or search for some pavement to pound.
Which reminds me-- since Chris left I've been wanting to find out when I could go back to the island, being when would there be enough money and ability to take time off to drive out. I was asking "WHEN" not saying "I want to go home now!". (Granted, I think anytime I talk about the topic that's probably how I sound-- because it's freaking true. I hate it here.) Twice I asked my mom, the first time she shrugged, the second time she said "I dunno." Which grew into a half conversation before having a miniature explosion. My mom yelled at me saying "What do you want me to do?" and it round about-ly came to that we aren't leaving until probably the end of August and it's my fault because I didn't get a job this summer.
I'll look through my blog for more accuracy later, but to my memory I spent maybe two weeks moping about being away from Chris-- and began an internet search for jobs, and then about a week or two later I went out and put out 15-20 resumes. Considering I have no previous work experience and I would only be working for a couple of months, it's both fair to hand out that much and not as surprising that the small town businesses weren't all that eager to hire me. And then yes, another two weeks later I got a job offer from WalMart-- but my ID showed up like two days before Chris got here, and there was no fucking way I was missing out on the only few days I got with my boyfriend this summer by starting work. Plus, at this point in time I thought I'd get to go home for August-- am I so wrong in thinking walking into WalMart (or indeed any possible employer that isn't desperate for employees) and saying "Thanks for offering me a job a month and a half ago, I'll gladly work for you for like 3.5 weeks now" would just be greeted with a laugh before being shown to the door? My mom suggested I go in and not tell them when I was leaving, and just instantly apply to be able to transfer out to the Victoria location. I told her I didn't really want to work somewhere that was an hour long bus ride away from my new home, which with current knowledge of "work or you won't go home until late" yeah, it's a bit prissy. But again, I thought I'd be back in Victoria for August-- meaning I'd have time to look for a job before school started. Is that out of line even with that frame of thinking? I didn't think so, but I suppose maybe it is.
And just to tack onto the Mom rant, when my grandparents got here Wednesday night-- this place was spotless. Everything had been vacuumed, boxes stacked properly so there was more room, the deck was actually usable rather than cluttered with random stuff from the winter. And my mom got it all done in about two days. Before Chris got here, nothing was cleaned-- I cleaned the kitchen because it was grossing me out and I couldn't sleep from excitement anyways. Before I got here, nothing was cleaned-- at the very least, if they put the same effort into cleaning before I got here as they did before my grandparents got here-- I fear for what this place must have deteriorated to between Christmas and then. I'll let them not cleaning before Chris got here slide, he didn't care anyways-- he wasn't here to see how clean the place was and he's not one to get bent out of shape over something so trivial anyways.
But during that brief shouting match as my mom packed my dorm room in April, they shouted at me that we had all known this moving day was coming for TWO MONTHS. Two months, and they didn't move the mound of boxes in my room that didn't belong there. Two months. A week or so's warning and two-three days of cleaning and this place is spotless. And like I said in my first realization of this slip up they did, when they first asked me when I had to move out of cluster-- it was so they could take care of that pile before I got home. They explicitly told me that. And it still wasn't done.
I'm just so done with here. Parts of me look like I have or recently have had chicken pox I've got so many mosquito bites (even though I don't go outside), I'm quasi-allergic to the dogs (my nose attempts to abandon my face sporadically), I'm far away from Chris (which I'm so used to putting like 3rd or 4th in so that they can't attack whether or not it's a "worthy" reason of going home), I'm not even spending all that much time with them since John works all day every day, and lately every time I talk to my mom it's fraught with annoyance. I hate it here. I hate it here. I hate it here. I REALLY SUPER FREAKING HATE IT HERE AND WANT TO GO HOME TO THE ISLAND NOW! Blaaaaaaaaarrrrrrgggggghhhh! Okay, I think that's out of my system for now.
So, that rant about killed my sleepy accomplished feeling. I was going to roll over and sleep for 5 hours, perhaps leave a sign on me that says "Wake up at 10" since they've just let me sleep into random hours these past couple days. True story, I've been let sleep longer being out here on the couch than a number of days that I have in my room. But now I'm too pissed off to sleep. Guess I'll find something to watch until Chris wakes up and he can diffuse the bomb in my brain.
The game.
My grandparents have gotten here, Dakota (whom I just tried calling Dakato while trying to figure out why Chrome kept saying it was wrong. Fatigue aided Dyslexia FTW) had to go to the vet (we had ribs for dinner when my grandparents got here, they love those bones. They had too many, and hers was the stomach of three that couldn't handle it. Very uncomfortable for her but--), since she's feeling better now I can whine that the possibility of my mom borrowing money from my grandparents to get me home is out the window since they borrowed money to take her to the vet. Sigh. (I'm glad she's okay but I have a one track mind, that's the point there-- not "jeez, let the dog be uncomfortably constipated with sharp bones and just take me home!" That would just be inhuman, incanine, cruel. No.)
Hannah's was fun while uneventful. She had work most everyday, until mid Thursday she wasn't feeling well and came home and took off Friday as a result. So I played a game called Resonance of Fate, which when I first put it in the PS3 figured it was a PS3 exclusive game from the fancy cut scene graphics (and the length of the cut scenes, it's just a blu ray player! :P) but turns out I will be able to get it for the xbox 360 if I ever happen to come across it, because it does exist. And boy do I want it! It's kind of like Luminous Arc, Tales of Vesperia, Final Fantasy and Wet had a baby. There's flying through the air shooting at stuff while spinning around and dodging bullets simultaneously too, it's so cool. And an RPG, which is of course the kind of game I love.
On Friday we went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II, it was good. It wasn't amazing, it wasn't awesome, it wasn't the best movie ever, but it was good. Taking into consideration I lined up for every Harry Potter movie except the 7th (because the 6th was such a massive piece of crap) I think that's a fair enough rating. I enjoyed it, they only cocked up one part of the plot that I could remember. At the conclusion of the story, Harry has the Elder wand. I was pretty sure he was supposed to repair his own previously broken wand, then put the Elder Wand back with Dumbledore-- but in the movie he just snaps it and toss it off a bridge. But I'm not 100%, as I only just rescued my books from my closet of boxes the other day, so it'll be a little bit before I read the 7th book again.
A few days before I left Hannah's my mom asked me if Hannah wanted to stay in a tent with me when my grandparents got here, to which I responded "A Tent?" In all fairness I know exactly why she suggested it, because the first time I brought up the draft of my Summer Goals it included backyard camping. That was before I realized that here, the backyard is really just a doggy toilet, I really freaking hate bugs which are everywhere, and that I get eaten alive when I'm inside with thick blankets pulled over my head-- how's outside in a tent with a sleeping bag going to fare in comparison? Eugh. It didn't really help my mom that at the time of asking I had been sleeping on the floor for a number of days, not that she could have possibly known.
So I came back to the farm, spent a few days cleaning my room and rescuing my books. I made a real push to get my books on Tuesday though-- because I realized that my mom and John were still going to be doing their disappear-y, hold-a-job-y, never-around deal even when my grandparents were here. I'm not usually the most social with my grandparents, and I'm even less social when I'm in a crabby mood (and I think all my moods can be considered crabby while I'm still stuck out here). So rather than throw myself into technology, I figured it'd be more acceptable to throw myself into my books. Which I have dearly missed, I nearly stayed up all night reading the second night.
And now, after triumphantly updating my blog and feeling pretty good about myself-- my mom woke up and came out into the living room to let the dogs out, got all snippy with me about staying up late (during which she asked me what was with my tone, am I supposed to answer life criticisms at 5 in the morning with a happy, loving, cheerful tone?). At one point saying "I'm tired of you doing nothing all day." Cool --
I do nothing all day because there's nothing to do all day. Am I to clean her things, and sort out her home for her simply because I'm staying here? What exactly am I supposed to do when John has to work all day, and she sits around until she goes to work? It's not like I can drive to the small town and peddle my wares, or search for some pavement to pound.
Which reminds me-- since Chris left I've been wanting to find out when I could go back to the island, being when would there be enough money and ability to take time off to drive out. I was asking "WHEN" not saying "I want to go home now!". (Granted, I think anytime I talk about the topic that's probably how I sound-- because it's freaking true. I hate it here.) Twice I asked my mom, the first time she shrugged, the second time she said "I dunno." Which grew into a half conversation before having a miniature explosion. My mom yelled at me saying "What do you want me to do?" and it round about-ly came to that we aren't leaving until probably the end of August and it's my fault because I didn't get a job this summer.
I'll look through my blog for more accuracy later, but to my memory I spent maybe two weeks moping about being away from Chris-- and began an internet search for jobs, and then about a week or two later I went out and put out 15-20 resumes. Considering I have no previous work experience and I would only be working for a couple of months, it's both fair to hand out that much and not as surprising that the small town businesses weren't all that eager to hire me. And then yes, another two weeks later I got a job offer from WalMart-- but my ID showed up like two days before Chris got here, and there was no fucking way I was missing out on the only few days I got with my boyfriend this summer by starting work. Plus, at this point in time I thought I'd get to go home for August-- am I so wrong in thinking walking into WalMart (or indeed any possible employer that isn't desperate for employees) and saying "Thanks for offering me a job a month and a half ago, I'll gladly work for you for like 3.5 weeks now" would just be greeted with a laugh before being shown to the door? My mom suggested I go in and not tell them when I was leaving, and just instantly apply to be able to transfer out to the Victoria location. I told her I didn't really want to work somewhere that was an hour long bus ride away from my new home, which with current knowledge of "work or you won't go home until late" yeah, it's a bit prissy. But again, I thought I'd be back in Victoria for August-- meaning I'd have time to look for a job before school started. Is that out of line even with that frame of thinking? I didn't think so, but I suppose maybe it is.
And just to tack onto the Mom rant, when my grandparents got here Wednesday night-- this place was spotless. Everything had been vacuumed, boxes stacked properly so there was more room, the deck was actually usable rather than cluttered with random stuff from the winter. And my mom got it all done in about two days. Before Chris got here, nothing was cleaned-- I cleaned the kitchen because it was grossing me out and I couldn't sleep from excitement anyways. Before I got here, nothing was cleaned-- at the very least, if they put the same effort into cleaning before I got here as they did before my grandparents got here-- I fear for what this place must have deteriorated to between Christmas and then. I'll let them not cleaning before Chris got here slide, he didn't care anyways-- he wasn't here to see how clean the place was and he's not one to get bent out of shape over something so trivial anyways.
But during that brief shouting match as my mom packed my dorm room in April, they shouted at me that we had all known this moving day was coming for TWO MONTHS. Two months, and they didn't move the mound of boxes in my room that didn't belong there. Two months. A week or so's warning and two-three days of cleaning and this place is spotless. And like I said in my first realization of this slip up they did, when they first asked me when I had to move out of cluster-- it was so they could take care of that pile before I got home. They explicitly told me that. And it still wasn't done.
I'm just so done with here. Parts of me look like I have or recently have had chicken pox I've got so many mosquito bites (even though I don't go outside), I'm quasi-allergic to the dogs (my nose attempts to abandon my face sporadically), I'm far away from Chris (which I'm so used to putting like 3rd or 4th in so that they can't attack whether or not it's a "worthy" reason of going home), I'm not even spending all that much time with them since John works all day every day, and lately every time I talk to my mom it's fraught with annoyance. I hate it here. I hate it here. I hate it here. I REALLY SUPER FREAKING HATE IT HERE AND WANT TO GO HOME TO THE ISLAND NOW! Blaaaaaaaaarrrrrrgggggghhhh! Okay, I think that's out of my system for now.
So, that rant about killed my sleepy accomplished feeling. I was going to roll over and sleep for 5 hours, perhaps leave a sign on me that says "Wake up at 10" since they've just let me sleep into random hours these past couple days. True story, I've been let sleep longer being out here on the couch than a number of days that I have in my room. But now I'm too pissed off to sleep. Guess I'll find something to watch until Chris wakes up and he can diffuse the bomb in my brain.
The game.