Things I Could Have Been Doing While I Was Not Blogging

I like the word "indolence." It makes my laziness seem classy. ~Bern Williams


1. Turning 18
2. Going psycho on a customer
3. Going psycho on my boyfriend
4. Playing with my new dolls
5. Knitting, crocheting, and other handicrafts
6. Wearing jewelry
7. Eloping
8. Moving to Oklahoma to become the pioneer woman’s apprentice
9. Seriously injuring myself playing Twister
10. Becoming mired in a 3-week game of Risk
11. Helping with Vacation Bible School
12. Getting ready for college

Now, you guess, true or false. Hint: the answers are below.

1. True! I am now of age to buy tobacco products and lottery tickets. I have not bought either, and I don’t intend to ever buy the first, but the fact stands that I could.
2. False. Aren’t you proud of my restraint?
3. Mm…true…but only once. And he really did need the chastising.
4. False! Ha. I bet you were all set to say “true” on that one, but I got you by a technicality. I only have one new doll. So in the plural, that’s incorrect. I did get my beautiful new doll though, yes; her name is Mia and she’s gorgeous and wonderful and I love her. And I played with all of them. And sent my poor Addy to the doll hospital for an out-of-joint leg. But only one technically new doll. Admit it, I got you on that one.
5. Absolutely. And trying to remember the linen stitch, too.
6. Surprisingly true, for somebody who never used to wear jewelry.
7. Hahaha, absolutely not. Just thought I’d throw it in there for giggles.
8. Also untrue, but wouldn’t it be fun?
9. So totally false. Flexibility is completely a plus in Twister, as are long limbs. I win.
10. See, this is why I don’t play Risk. So, it wasn’t 3 weeks. But still, an hour is a while.
11. Mercifully false. Mercifully, mercifully, mercifully.
12. Completely true, sadly and happily.

Working Gripes and Groans

People who work sitting down get paid more than people who work standing up. ~Ogden Nash

1. Listen, if you don’t want the slip after you pay with a credit card, TELL ME. I would so much rather throw the slip away in my little register trash can than find it soaked in CBS (cinnamon sugar butter) in the bottom of your basket later.
2. If you hear us all cracking up in the back over some joke or other, be happy for us. It means that we’ve found a moment of happiness amidst the gloom.
3. I like kids. When I smile at them, it doesn’t mean I’m trying to lure them into a dark alleyway. So don’t give me that look. And honestly, it doesn’t bother me when your 3-year-old tugs on my sleeve and I end up on my hands and knees looking under the tables for that red matchbox car. And I really don’t care if your baby cries or your toddler throws a tantrum or your kids make a mess (unless they’re older kids—above age 6 or so, they ought to know better). I do care if you threaten, hit, or yell at them within my hearing.
4. If you move my tables, put them back. Pleeeease?
5. We usually listen to top-40 hit music on the radio. This is NC, so sometimes a country song is going to play, whether or not it’s top-40 in other areas. If you complain about how you’re from New York and this isn’t music, I want to throw you out, and your coifee, too. This isn’t Yankee territory. And listening to “Before He Cheats” just once will not cause you to swell up and explode. I promise.
6. Don’t roll your eyes when I motion that I’m coming and I have food in my mouth. And don’t tell me to eat my bagel—which, yes, I get free, and it’s rude to ask, anyway—on my break. I don’t get a break. It takes me 2 and a half hours minimum to eat a single bagel with cream cheese, what with everything I’m trying to get done at the same time.
7. If you call in, know what you’re ordering. I’ve got people in here. Hemming and hawing is unacceptable.
8. This isn’t really your fault, and at least it does imply that you realize I have local status, but don’t ask me for anything but very basic directions unless it’s to, like, Walmart, or FFHS, or Atlantic Dance or something. This is the girl who ended up at Tanger Outlet Mall trying to get to Nags Head Acres and at Pizza Hut trying to get from the high school to the library. I don’t want to be responsible for you when you get lost. But thanks for recognizing that I do live here.
9. Yes, we’re overpriced. I can’t do anything about that, so please don’t complain to me. Take it up with the owner. In fact, please take it up with the owner. But with me, please just pay and smile and tip.
10. Look, I’ll benevolently accept ignorance as an excuse in certain cases, but if you sit there and watch me clean the door every five minutes and still get up and smear your hands all over the glass…well, that’s just mean and hateful, and it makes me want to cry.
11. Umm…I have an outstretched hand, and it’s clean. I’m fairly articulate. No tattoos, no wild loose hair, no caked-on makeup, no bloodshot eyes, no indecent clothing. I smile when I give you the total, or at least I try to. Point is, I’m not scary. Please don’t get your money out and just fling it across the counter in my general direction. I don’t smell. I have all my fingers and teeth. Can’t you hand me your money like a decent person? I’m not a retriever.
12. And inversely, please don’t extend your bill towards me, and then, when I try to take it, keep gripping. I know you hate to lose your money—I do too—but you already ordered, and you had to know it was coming. So you can really let go and let me take your cash and get your change. I would rather not play tug-of-war. (Once again, do I look like a dog?)
13. I am not your mother. Or your servant. If you need help, I’ll help you, of course, and I’ll clean up after you, because that’s my job. But please keep your requests and demands reasonable. I really do understand if your table gets messy with chips and crumbs or whatever, but don’t leave baskets all over and act as if I have nothing better to do than spend ten minutes putting your area back in order. That’s momentously inconsiderate.
14. This isn’t so much your fault, either, but I don’t prepare the food, so if you ask me a food question, I’m gonna have to go ask somebody else. Don’t sigh and roll your eyes and look all impatient at the delay. It’s not my fault; I’m honestly trying to get back to you quickly. Have a speck of compassion.
15. I know it’s cold. Working the register, I’m cold, too. I understand and I’m sorry. But there’s really nothing I can do.
16. Please tip. Even if it’s just a penny, it’s something. And if you get a $62.84 order that includes four G2s (that’s a Reuben)…tip or have the staff think of you as the stingiest person ever.
17. I do appreciate you telling me when there’s a spill. However, don’t expect me to regard you as my personal Angel of Mercy or something for letting me know. After all, it just means one more thing for me to do when I’m already working on 3 million others.
18. Trying for conversation wins you brownie points, in my book, even if it’s awkward or pointless. I give you props for trying. Thank you, you relatively decent person!
19. No, I really don’t care how they do it where you’re from. This is how we do it here. Sorry if it doesn’t work for you.
20. I don’t dislike you just because, but don’t come up, swaggering, expecting me to like you and treat you as the most cherished customer I’ve ever seen. It’s one thing if you’re related to me or if you went to school with me or you know me from somewhere…it’s another if you’re a stranger and you just think you’re all that. It’s not very attractive.
21. That’s nice about the weather, but I’m stuck inside from 7 to at least 4, so please don’t expect me to be able to give too much actual information about today’s weather.
22. Above all, don’t treat me like I’m stupid just because I’m working at the local bagel store. Don’t treat any of us like we’re stupid, in fact. The foreign employees speak good English, and they try really hard. Most of the rest of us are young. We know each other, we go to the local schools, and most of us are (or were, since two of us are now graduated) honor students. But, hey, you gotta make a dollar somehow. I don’t need you to speak slowly and loudly to understand you. Seriously. Treating us like we’re dumb is probably the most offensive thing you could do to any of us. Show some respect.

Fortunately, today is it. The last day of work. May the clouds part and angels descend upon golden sunbeams! Singing hallelujah, of course. I’ve been dreaming of work, of customers, of the crazy owners, and I’m so glad to see it end.

You know, though, I’m really glad I did work this summer. For one thing, it helps me to relate to every other teen I know who’s working…which is nearly everybody in my grade…for another, I didn’t do badly at all, monetarily. Most of all, though, I feel like it’s taught me a lot. Concrete things, of course, like how to stock and how a business works and how to use a bottle opener (don’t laugh; I didn’t know), but also things like how to deal with unpleasant people on a daily basis, and how to communicate with extreme efficiency, and how to appear capable at something even when I’m not sure I am. I never went off the deep end with a customer; I accepted mild reprimands without argument, I got there on time to do something I didn’t enjoy but that I needed to do. And I didn’t vent until I got home. Although I am tremendously, incredibly ecstatic to be free now, I’m also grateful that working gave me these experiences, because they’re probably character-building and all that. :]

Ahem. I'm not recanting my previous post, BUT.

...BUT...I've decided that mopping really isn't as bad as sweeping. I hate sweeping maybe 4.6 times more than I hate mopping, simply because mopping goes by more quickly and is less tedious.

I still don't like it. I just like sweeping even less.

Levels

Women are more intuitive than men, and much, much more complicated. Men generally do not realize this. Men usually think whatever goes for them goes for the rest of the world. Women, of course, know better.

This is an obvious fact of life that everyone should know. You may quote Katherine on it.

All right. Now, as everyone reading this surely knows, I have a boyfriend, and his name is Connor. Everybody likes us together, including us, but we average one squabble per ten minutes. Not out-and-out fights, but bickering.

No comment necessary.

Anyway, we were talking on IM the other night, and here’s what we were saying.

twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:29 PM): i've seen a fair amt of cranky connor, too
TwoCents08 (11:28:41 PM): that's like setting one
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:47 PM): haha
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:28:53 PM): what's setting 2?
TwoCents08 (11:29:40 PM): less cranky
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:29:49 PM): haha
TwoCents08 (11:29:52 PM): rather smartmouthed
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:30:01 PM): setting 3?
TwoCents08 (11:30:07 PM): pleasant
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:30:25 PM): and 4?
TwoCents08 (11:31:17 PM): smug
TwoCents08 (11:31:22 PM): i like setting 4
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:31:28 PM): i realize that
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:31:35 PM): setting 5?
TwoCents08 (11:32:43 PM): umm outwardly happy
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:32:55 PM): are those all of connor's settings?
TwoCents08 (11:33:09 PM): well no
TwoCents08 (11:33:35 PM): b/c we're omitting a few
TwoCents08 (11:33:48 PM): like setting 6-10
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:03 PM): ah
TwoCents08 (11:34:21 PM): setting 6 is like silly happy
TwoCents08 (11:34:43 PM): kinda like my schmoozing party joking attitude
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:54 PM): ahaha
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:34:57 PM): i see
TwoCents08 (11:36:00 PM): 7
TwoCents08 (11:36:19 PM): 7 is like mildly ticked off
TwoCents08 (11:36:41 PM): 8 is upset
TwoCents08 (11:36:56 PM): 9 is jubilant, valley-girl style mirth
TwoCents08 (11:37:06 PM): and 10 is when i get mad
TwoCents08 (11:37:14 PM): like shoot fire and such
twinkletoeskgs7 (11:37:19 PM): i see

So anyway, then we bickered over whether or not women have more levels than men. He sticks by the 10 rule. I told him I probably had a minimum of 25. He rolled his eyes at me. (You know, *rolling eyes*) So the next day at work, during a rare lull, I—I who always carry a notebook—tore out a notebook page and wrote down my levels. Here they are.

1. absolutely ecstastic
2. jubilant
3. triumphant
4. really happy
5. happy for you
6. moderately happy
7. pleased
8. smug
9. mildly happy
10. content/placid
11. neutral/reserving judgement
12. uncertain
13. confused
14. irritated with myself
15. frustrated
16. lazy
17. tired
18. exhausted
19. annoying
20. giggly
21. annoyed
22. more annoyed
23. truly irritated
24. mildly irate
25. infuriated--two modes: loud and quiet
26. sarcastic
27. sharp
28. clever
29. idiotic
30. defensive--several modes
31. bold--with sublevels flirtatious and confrontational
32. automatic mode
33. apologetic
34. hungry
35. wistful
36. nostalgic--several modes
37. mildly sad
38. deeply sad
39. devastated
40. heartbroken
41. hopeful
42. resigned
43. trying

And, of course, I have settings (loud, quiet, slightly uplifted, slightly downtrodden). Several levels can be combined at one time. They change with what happens moment-by-moment, what happens daily, what happens weekly, what happens monthly, etc. Intensity and level combinations vary according to the person I'm with and the class/location.

Psh to 10 levels.

twinkletoeskgs7: Take that, dear. ;p

The travel-happy homebody strikes again

I think that travel comes from some deep urge to see the world, like the urge that brings up a worm in an Irish bog to see the moon when it is full. ~Lord Dunsany

I had a dream last night that I went to Rome. There was also something about Vatican City, lots of old cathedrals and tan, marble architecture and candlelit services. I imagine that’s mostly really there. Of course, in my dream, Morgan Freeman and my boyfriend’s 12-year-old brother were also featured, and they are decidedly not there. Still. I’ve decided—and I’m not making this decision based on a dream, I promise—that I want to go to Rome. I’ve been to London, Paris, and Venice, and I’d go back to any of the three in the space of a heartbeat. For new destinations, though, I really want to go to Rome. Maybe in college. We’ll have to see.

I want to go to Ireland, too.

And I wouldn’t mind seeing the rest of the US.


Not bad for a homebody.

Idle prattle is a matter of opinion

“Yes, on land it’s much preferred for ladies not to say a word, and, after all, dear, what is idle prattle for? They’re not all that impressed with conversation. True gentlemen avoid it when they can. Yet they dote and swoon and fawn on a lady who’s withdrawn, and it’s she who holds her tongue who gets her man!”

Ursula
The Little Mermaid (1989)


Most people don’t think this anymore. Notice it’s the villain saying it here. Regardless. I thought I’d just mention how much I absolutely, positively, and holistically loathe being told to be quiet. If you tell me to shut up, I’m probably going to hurt you. (Unless I deserve it, and sometimes I do.) This either means that I have too much adoration for my own vocality (my word), or that I really, really hate being stifled. Maybe both. What do you think?

Oh, the irony

The childhood shows the man
As morning shows the day.
~John Milton, Paradise Regained

I’m watching The Little Mermaid right now. It’s my all-time second-favorite Disney movie, for around a million reasons. (My favorite is Beauty and the Beast, and I would be watching that, but I couldn’t find the VHS when I went to look for it, so I settled. It’s not really a pity. I also love Aladdin and The Lion King—these four movies clustered together seem, in my mind, like old friends, but aside from that, they comprise a significant portion of my childhood TV face time. If you add Winnie-the-Pooh in, that’s probably about 90%. We don’t believe in much TV at my house.) While I’m watching this glorious gem of a G-rated film, I’m blogging, downloading some new music on iTunes, and reading a TIME review about the movie Wanted, which I went with three girlfriends last night to see. (It’s rated R, and none of us actually liked it, but going was still fun. We jumped and whispered and covered our faces and bit our fists, and then made fun of it. “What is this movie supposed to be telling me?” Kayla asked. “I mean, seriously. What do they want from us?” I have no idea. It’s such a boy movie.)

This morning, I put on my Cinderella sheets. I’ve had them since I was maybe three, which makes them about fifteen years old—still, they’re soft and cool and they have lace on the edge and my favorite pillowcase ever, and their soft purple coordinates perfectly with my lavender walls and the Cecily Mary Barker flower fairy wallpaper near my ceiling. While I accomplished this domestic task, I chatted via cell phone with my boyfriend.

My mother gave me my final graduation present yesterday. It’s a Dorothy Barbie I openly coveted in Wal-Mart last year. Right now she’s (in her box still) reclining in my Samantha doll’s bed; I haven’t yet figured what I’ll do with her, but she thrills me. I thought about putting her on my desk, but I hate to cover all the pictures I’ve got propped up and framed—pictures from Europe, pictures from Prom, pictures from dance competition/workshop, pictures from graduation…

Sensing irony yet?

So, the question is: do I need to grow up all the way, or am I simply a well-balanced young lady, with equal measures of childhood and and adulthood? Don’t bother to ask me. I think growing up all the way would be boring, and I’m not going to do it. :]