hate mail.

I hate the fact that I was the one to hand over the envelope. 

“Jim, I found this in the outgoing mail slot, but it has your mail stop number….did you forget to address it?”

“no, i didn’t send anything out…” Bewildered, he takes the envelope and proceeds to open it while I continue to sort other mail.  Out comes a page from a newspaper written all over with red marker.  It says DIE on it with a swastika.  The newspaper has a picture of soldiers, the bastard that sent it drew crosses over the soldiers’ faces.  Jim just returned from a two-year tour in Iraq. In the short time I have known him, I have come to learn that he has a warmer heart than most other people I have known. We both look at it in stunned silence, then he quietly folds it and walks back to his office.

I have never been so close to that kind of extreme hatred.  And I didn’t know what to do except say sorry for the disgusting coward that sent it.

seriously.

la zanahoria

I’ve always wanted to learn spanish. Being extremely proud of my 50% Hispanic-ness, I think its darn time I started. Having such limited time now to take an actual class, I went the obvious route:

Spanish Word-A-Day!

Every morning I open my email and there it is, my special Spanish word to learn, complete with a picture and an audio sample.  I haven’t quite figured out why they include a picture and the picture never has anything to do with the word… like today the word was la zanahoria (carrot) and there was a picture of an open field.  HMMM… Along with “la zanahoria”, I have learned “adentro” (interior) and “bastante” (quite or fairly).

 I figure I should be fluent in about 25 years.

oh wow.

One of my little baby college students that I supervised last year is engaged. 

when she told me, my instant, natural reaction was pure shock/disgust and a strained, “seriously??!!”

 whoops.

i think that was the wrong reaction.

Friday night: The Parents

 I had dinner last Friday night with my parents and sister for her 30th bday.  We went to this new place on Capitol Hill called Quinn’s Pub.

I always enjoy time with my parents, especially now that I think I have gotten over my more ”rebellious” stage.  I was never bad but definitely went through a stage where I dated the wrong person for a while, dyed my hair pink, was a little more angry than usual, that kind of thing. 

We always laugh and have a good time.  My parents live for their daughters and always have looked out for our best interest. 

But the fact that my sister and I were a little aprehensive bringing my parents to a pub in the first place shows the void between us.

My parents are conservative.  My mother especially.  My father is a pastor and my mother has been a dedicated Christian since infancy.  They don’t drink. They don’t swear. EVER.  They ask me every time I see them if I went to church last Sunday (the answer usually a “No”).  I, on the other hand, am not crazy. I still believe in God just not really the current way organized religion runs with its materialistic tendencies and ridiculously corny messages.  I do enjoy going out to clubs, I let the occasional swear word slip out, I like graffiti, I liked it when my hair was pink, I like piercings and tattoos, I like loud music.  I don’t like church boys in that way…they are fun for platonic relationships but i prefer the bad boy.  I like to drink sometimes. 

So I hide things.  I get jealous of my friends that have moms they can hang out with and have a glass of wine and not feel guilty. And talk about dating or other silly girly things. This isn’t the kind of relationship I can have with my parents.  And I feel guilty for being jealous.

And sometimes I feel like my mom wishes she had a daughter like some of my friends. The ones that always go to church and would never even consider the idea of dying  their hair pink because thats something that people who do drugs would do.

I have always been taught to honor your mother and father. And I always will which is easy since they are amazing and loving parents.  However, I will always feel like I am not good enough for them.  I don’t want to change but it is starting to feel like i have two personalities.

I should be used to it by now.

everyone say a little prayer.

After laying low for about two weeks recovering from the flu…i will be returning to yoga tonight. having only attended a month-long beginner’s class in january and have been out for two weeks, tonight i will be going to my first “real” yoga practice.  lets just say there might be tears involved.

know what i like?

this dude on american idol last night.

sorry…i got addicted to the whole idol thing last season. kinda hate it and love it at the same time. i couldn’t say from what i saw that i was extremely impressed but this jason castro kid was OKAY.

you know what makes me jealous??

my sister getting to meet MEET the infamous Mos Def…

and she doesn’t even know who he is! the only reason she knew who he was was that someone she was with noticed him and almost peed himself…which is a totally understandable reaction, by the way.

a little ray of sunshine on a very blue week…

I’m sick.

I am soooo sick.  Its just a vicious cold but one that doesn’t seem to want to let up and for a girl that works 7 days a week, I can’t have this sort of obstacle in my way. I keep waking up in the middle of the night with a fever and a throat that is burning and glare at the clock as my precious minutes of rest tick by.  Its one of those kind of colds where you will be just fine and in control of yourself and ever so quickly a tickle starts and in mere seconds you are hacking and choking and trembling, tears coming out of your eyes.  I’ve pretty much lost my voice which makes talking to customers an extremely laborious task and end up having them look at me as if I have the plague (i don’t blame them).  I have a constant stream of people telling me that i look terrible (thank you?).  I missed seeing a good friend of mine who unexpectedly came in to town with her newborn baby girl.  I am going to miss DJ Shadow/Cut Chemist tonight.    I am missing my yoga classes that I pre-paid for with my meager earnings (no refunds).

 ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! i say that with my raspy voice. and its not even sexy…if anything at least let me have a sexy sore throat voice.  but nope.

and at this point I see no end in sight (at least not for a couple days)

 but this nasty cold has afforded me one pleasure.  a pack of riccola i found on my desk from a co-worker with a note that said, “these helped me out last week, hope they can do the same for you…” 

oh, office crush, how you make it hard for me not to like you.