There is probably a lot more I could say about my short college career. I could talk about how chemistry and calculus were absolute nightmares. Or about how my "guidance counselor" type lady, while we were making up my schedule and picking classes, told me I should take this great "Pilgrimage and Tourism" anthropology class, because it also counted as a writing credit, and I needed that, except it turned out to actually be really terrible and boring (except for the time the professor took us to a local Hindu temple for a service. That was actually a pretty awesome experience.) Or about how I took ceramics because I needed an art credit and I thought, "I took ceramics in junior high school, it was really fun and easy", but this class turned out to be the opposite of fun and easy. Or about how I was really excited about joining the school's equestrian team because, even though I can probably count on one hand all the times I've actually ridden a horse before, I love horses and how freaking cool would it be if I was a famous world traveler who saved endangered species and discovered new ones, AND also an Olympic equestrian gold medalist?! But they decided that, the year I started college, they were putting the equestrian team on hold, or something, and it wasn't happening. But I wont talk about all that.
For a typical college freshman, you needed to take 12 credits to be considered full-time. I was taking 24. I declared my major right away. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life, remember? So I took all of the classes the guidance councilor type lady told me I needed for my major. I was excited at first. I was on the road to my dream job! But it soon became very clear that this was just too overwhelming. And I couldn't handle it.
I wasn't making friends. I wasn't doing cool "college-type" activities, like going to parties and joining clubs. I had Leni, who I hung out with rarely, and I had signed up to volunteer at a cat shelter one Saturday, and at a thrift store another one. Other than this, I did nothing. I spent all of my time in my dorm room by myself, or with a roommate I didn't like. My classes were hard. I was doing poorly in chemistry (which I did well in, in high school, so that confused me) and calculus, and just okay in my other classes. I was able to get pretty good grades in high school with very little effort. I wasn't prepared for this work load. I wasn't able to go home, or anywhere, when ever I wanted and that bothered me. I was getting really depressed. I stopped going to the anthropology/writing class and to ceramics. Then I stopped going to my biology and chemistry labs, which was stupid because the bio and chem lab teachers were also the regular class teachers. But then I just stopped going to classes all together. I slept in til late morning, when pretty much everyone was in class, and sneaked off to the little shop that was down stairs from the cafeteria to get coffee and some sort of muffin/pastry. Then I stayed in my room for the rest of the day. I either ate what I had there, or ate nothing. I think this is when I became addicted to being on the computer as much as possible.
I never officially dropped out of school. No body there knew I was leaving besides my roommate and Leni. When everyone was getting ready to visit home for Christmas break, I was just getting ready to go home. My parents came up to help me pack up all my stuff to take back home. I don't know if my parents where/are disappointed in me for what happened. They never said they were, and I know they understood how I was feeling and why I wanted to leave. I don't think they're disappointed. I'm sure they would have been super mega proud if I stayed in school and got good grades and graduated and followed my dream. But I know they're still proud of me now. I don't put this on my resume under "schools" or talk about it to potential employers, or put it on anything that asks about schools, because, according to my record, I failed out of college. In 5 months. It's pretty embarrassing. So, I feel like no one (as far as employers or other schools) needs to know about it.
This was, like, 5 and a half years ago. Obviously a lot has happened between then and now, but I'm not going to go into any of it right now. So, now you're wondering, this was the first college drop out- what about the other two? I'm not going to go into nearly as much detail as I did about Cedar Crest. Frankly, there isn't that much to go into.
Both of these next failures where on-line colleges. Actually, it was the same on-line college, twice. I'm really surprised they even accepted me a second time. This is when I decided that I wanted to get certified as a veterinary technician. I've been working as one since 2007; there are not many places (none that I've run into) that require you to be certified. But, I thought it would be cool if I was. I tried twice, but it turns out- as much as Cedar Crest College wasn't for me, on-line school is really not for me. I absolutely do not have the concentration for it. If I'm going to be on the computer, I'm NOT going to be doing school work. Why do work and study when there's OMG fun stuff to do just over here in this next tab! I get distracted way too easily to do school on the computer. It's as simple as that.
And that is my story, about how I am a triple college drop out. I feel like I'm just not college material. I did my school thing when I had to, but now that it's my choice, it seems like I repeatedly choose not to do well. Does it mean I'll never try again? No. I may. But I don't know.
And now, Bea has crept up behind me on the back of the couch, put her paws on my shoulder and stuck her nose in my ear, then jumped into my lap and curled up. Which means she demands that I stop paying attention to the computer, and start paying attention to her.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Doing Things
Today I was going to post part two of my college story. I started working on it right after I posted part one, but then I had to actually get up off the couch and do TWO THINGS. So, naturally, by the time I was back on the couch, I was in no mood to do anything that was like work.
The first thing I had to do was pick up medicine for my oldest cat, Baby.
She has high blood pressure, and needs to take medicine for it. However, the vet that I now go to doesn't carry this medication, so I have to get it from Walgreen's, and when I went there last month to pick up her medicine, it was her last refill. So, I had to call up the vet and ask them if the doctor could call me in more refills, so I can medicate my cat. They said yes, the doctor will do this right away. About an hour later, they called back to let me know that they got a new blood pressure machine in. About 4-5 months ago, when I first started going to this vet, I took Baby in to have her blood pressure checked, to make sure the medication was still working the way it's supposed to. It turns out that their cat blood pressure reading machine was broken and they were going to have to buy a new one. Why it took 4-5 months to buy a new one, I'll never know. Anyway, now they have got their new machine, and would I like to set up an appointment to get Baby's blood pressure checked? Yes, I would. 4-5 months ago, they told me that this appointment would be free, for the inconvenience of their broken machine and my having to come back. I hope they remember this. While I had them on the phone, I said, "Hey, I called earlier and asked to have the doctor call up Walgreen's to have her medicine refilled, do you know if that's been done yet?" They went to check, an then said, "No. It's hasn't been done yet. But I'll have the doctor do it right now!" I waited about an hour and a half, and then went to Walgreen's. I told them my first and last name and that I was picking up Amlodipine Besylate for my cat, Baby. She did some typing, and then said, "Sorry, but you picked up the last refill last month." and I said, "My vet was supposed to call in more refills. I spoke to them twice! Did they not call?" She did some more typing, and said, "No. Nobody called. Sorry." So I went to Walgreen's for nothing, and I will most likely have to go back today. I didn't call the vet back yesterday, because I knew I wasn't going to go back out. Today is Saturday. They are open for a shorter time on Saturdays then they are on weekdays, and they are very busy on Saturdays. I have a strong feeling that if I call them today and ask them to call the pharmacy, it will still not get done, and I will waste another trip there. I have enough medication left to last her the weekend, but I would need more on Monday. I could always just do it Monday, but I feel like it sounds irresponsible to call the vet and be like, "Hey, remember how I called three days ago and needed this? I never got it, so I need it today." Maybe I will call the vet today, then, after waiting a few hours, call Walgreen's to see if the vet actually called in my refills, and if they did, tell them I wont be able to pick it up until Monday... It would be more convenient for me. Walgreen's is right next to my bank, and I need to go to the bank on Monday to get a money order to pay my rent. That would save me one whole having-to-go-out. I don't care if that's not supposed to be hyphenated, I'm doing it anyway.
The second thing I had to do was go to Best Buy and pick up my lap top. Geek Squad had called before the whole vet fiasco to let me know it was ready. I was so excited about it being ready, I drew this picture of a unicorn and a bunny in a meadow:
So, after Walgreen's, I went to Best Buy. The nice Geek Squad man told me that there were 177 traces of viruses on the lap top, and I should really keep up to date with my anti-virus programs. I told them to install one when I dropped off the lap top. I've got it for a year now, so I just have to remember to renew in next year. Because of all the crazy virus-ness, they had to basically wipe out the whole computer and start it from scratch. Since they knew there was a chance of this, I also had them back up everything they could. On the paperwork, it asked me to be very specific about exactly what I wanted backed up, the exact names of the files, their location, and all this crap. I was not specific. I wrote, "Pictures, documents, music, desk top files" and I think that's it. I mean, who remembers the specifics of every single file on their computer?! I don't, that's for sure. The computer crashed unexpectedly, and I had no way to get on it afterwords to check on this information. I still have not turned the newly fixed lap top on since I got it back. I'm terrified. The nice Geek Squad man told me that the "restore" was successful, as was the back up, and that everything thing works just the way it's supposed to, the computer is able to get on line, and all that good stuff. But I'm scared to see the state it's in. They told me from the beginning that there is some stuff they are just unable to back up. I'm scared to see what I lost, and of how much reinstalling I'm going to have to do. I might get started on it today. The tips of my pointer fingers are are really starting to hurt after a week of using this old lap top with the sticky keys, and it will be nice to give them a rest and get back on the good lap top. Yes, I type like a loser, with my pointer fingers.
The bright spot in yesterday was that Panera Bread is right next door to Best Buy, so I stopped in there to get dinner, and some bagels to have over the weekend! I'm going to be snooty for a moment, but coming from NYC down to Florida, I have a really hard time finding good Italian bread and bagels and pizza and stuff. While they're nothing like the REAL bagels from home, Panera Bread bagels are pretty good. I'm serious, though. If you've ever eaten Italian bread/bagels/pizza in NYC, then somewhere else, you will know that the NYC versions are far better. It's a fact.
So now I am going to get myself a yummy bagel, and do one of three things: boot up the lap top and get started on that, work on part 2 of the college story, or call the vet.
OR... I might play Zelda (Ocarina of Time). We'll see.
The first thing I had to do was pick up medicine for my oldest cat, Baby.
She has high blood pressure, and needs to take medicine for it. However, the vet that I now go to doesn't carry this medication, so I have to get it from Walgreen's, and when I went there last month to pick up her medicine, it was her last refill. So, I had to call up the vet and ask them if the doctor could call me in more refills, so I can medicate my cat. They said yes, the doctor will do this right away. About an hour later, they called back to let me know that they got a new blood pressure machine in. About 4-5 months ago, when I first started going to this vet, I took Baby in to have her blood pressure checked, to make sure the medication was still working the way it's supposed to. It turns out that their cat blood pressure reading machine was broken and they were going to have to buy a new one. Why it took 4-5 months to buy a new one, I'll never know. Anyway, now they have got their new machine, and would I like to set up an appointment to get Baby's blood pressure checked? Yes, I would. 4-5 months ago, they told me that this appointment would be free, for the inconvenience of their broken machine and my having to come back. I hope they remember this. While I had them on the phone, I said, "Hey, I called earlier and asked to have the doctor call up Walgreen's to have her medicine refilled, do you know if that's been done yet?" They went to check, an then said, "No. It's hasn't been done yet. But I'll have the doctor do it right now!" I waited about an hour and a half, and then went to Walgreen's. I told them my first and last name and that I was picking up Amlodipine Besylate for my cat, Baby. She did some typing, and then said, "Sorry, but you picked up the last refill last month." and I said, "My vet was supposed to call in more refills. I spoke to them twice! Did they not call?" She did some more typing, and said, "No. Nobody called. Sorry." So I went to Walgreen's for nothing, and I will most likely have to go back today. I didn't call the vet back yesterday, because I knew I wasn't going to go back out. Today is Saturday. They are open for a shorter time on Saturdays then they are on weekdays, and they are very busy on Saturdays. I have a strong feeling that if I call them today and ask them to call the pharmacy, it will still not get done, and I will waste another trip there. I have enough medication left to last her the weekend, but I would need more on Monday. I could always just do it Monday, but I feel like it sounds irresponsible to call the vet and be like, "Hey, remember how I called three days ago and needed this? I never got it, so I need it today." Maybe I will call the vet today, then, after waiting a few hours, call Walgreen's to see if the vet actually called in my refills, and if they did, tell them I wont be able to pick it up until Monday... It would be more convenient for me. Walgreen's is right next to my bank, and I need to go to the bank on Monday to get a money order to pay my rent. That would save me one whole having-to-go-out. I don't care if that's not supposed to be hyphenated, I'm doing it anyway.
The second thing I had to do was go to Best Buy and pick up my lap top. Geek Squad had called before the whole vet fiasco to let me know it was ready. I was so excited about it being ready, I drew this picture of a unicorn and a bunny in a meadow:
So, after Walgreen's, I went to Best Buy. The nice Geek Squad man told me that there were 177 traces of viruses on the lap top, and I should really keep up to date with my anti-virus programs. I told them to install one when I dropped off the lap top. I've got it for a year now, so I just have to remember to renew in next year. Because of all the crazy virus-ness, they had to basically wipe out the whole computer and start it from scratch. Since they knew there was a chance of this, I also had them back up everything they could. On the paperwork, it asked me to be very specific about exactly what I wanted backed up, the exact names of the files, their location, and all this crap. I was not specific. I wrote, "Pictures, documents, music, desk top files" and I think that's it. I mean, who remembers the specifics of every single file on their computer?! I don't, that's for sure. The computer crashed unexpectedly, and I had no way to get on it afterwords to check on this information. I still have not turned the newly fixed lap top on since I got it back. I'm terrified. The nice Geek Squad man told me that the "restore" was successful, as was the back up, and that everything thing works just the way it's supposed to, the computer is able to get on line, and all that good stuff. But I'm scared to see the state it's in. They told me from the beginning that there is some stuff they are just unable to back up. I'm scared to see what I lost, and of how much reinstalling I'm going to have to do. I might get started on it today. The tips of my pointer fingers are are really starting to hurt after a week of using this old lap top with the sticky keys, and it will be nice to give them a rest and get back on the good lap top. Yes, I type like a loser, with my pointer fingers.
The bright spot in yesterday was that Panera Bread is right next door to Best Buy, so I stopped in there to get dinner, and some bagels to have over the weekend! I'm going to be snooty for a moment, but coming from NYC down to Florida, I have a really hard time finding good Italian bread and bagels and pizza and stuff. While they're nothing like the REAL bagels from home, Panera Bread bagels are pretty good. I'm serious, though. If you've ever eaten Italian bread/bagels/pizza in NYC, then somewhere else, you will know that the NYC versions are far better. It's a fact.
So now I am going to get myself a yummy bagel, and do one of three things: boot up the lap top and get started on that, work on part 2 of the college story, or call the vet.
OR... I might play Zelda (Ocarina of Time). We'll see.
Friday, August 27, 2010
I am a triple college drop-out
When I was in high school, I thought that after I graduated, I would have an awesome summer, and then in August I would go right off to college. I would live in the dorms, and have four awesome years of college experience, and then I would graduate from college, and go on to have another four awesome years of grad school. So, according to my plans, by this point in my life, I should be in the middle of grad school. Not a jobless bum who sits on the couch all day. I wanted to end up with a degree in zoology. My dream was that, after all my years of school, my job would be to travel around the world to amazing, exotic locations and get to study amazing, exotic animals and just have an absolute blast and a half. And then, after I was tired of many years of amazing travels, I would settle down in whichever is the best zoo in the world, and live the rest of my days working as a zookeeper. How awesome of a life would that be? Maybe they would even give me my own show on Animal Planet, documenting the adventures of my amazing life.
Around my junior year, my parents and I started looking for schools. To my surprise, there aren't (or at least there weren't back then) a whole lot of colleges that offer zoology in the NYC area. I found some really awesome ones in, like, South Africa and Australia, but my mom was not so keen on the idea of her 17-year-old daughter leaving home for the first time to go to school on another continent. I guess I agreed with her, because I didn't fight for it. I also figured that I could do South Africa/Australia for grad school. I had pretty good grades, but I wasn't getting in to any ivy league schools. I needed to find a school that I could actually get into but that still offered what I was looking for. I ended up finding this school in Allentown, Pennsylvania called Cedar Crest College, that was just about half way in between my dad's house in PA and my mom's house in NY. They didn't offer zoology, but they did offer something called "conservation biology and biodiversity" which was close enough for me at the time. If you're wondering what exactly that is... well, you can look it up. I went with my dad up to visit the school, and really liked it.
So, the time for applying for colleges rolled around, and I hadn't looked at any others. So I only applied to Cedar Crest. Good thing I got in, huh? My senior year of high school went by like a blur. I was on the yearbook staff, and devoted most of my time to that. There was one day where we stayed at school working on it for so long, the janitors had to kick us out around midnight. And no, that is not an exaggeration. Also, for those of you readers who may be in school- did you know how late the janitors stay there, cleaning up the school and doing other stuff (like watching Jeopardy)? You should appreciate them more for all their hard work. I graduated from high school, and the summer went by rather uneventfully. In August, we packed up my stuff, and moved me up to Cedar Crest College. There were orientations, roommate introductions, and tearful parent good byes. I feel incredibly stupid to admit this, but I didn't realize until the orientation that this was an all girls school. How does this even happen? I don't know. Am I really that unobservant? I guess so. I was incredibly nervous about living away from my parents for the first time, living with a stranger, and dealing with a college work load. The roommate was on some sort of team. Maybe it was track, or softball? Or maybe she played an instrument? Which ever it was, it caused her to have to go to school a week before the other students who were not in this musical athletic program. So by the time I had gotten there, she was already settled in. We were warned ahead of time about these special program kids and how they would get to go to school a week earlier than everyone else. I had hoped my roommate wouldn't be one of them, because that meant they'd totally get the good side of the room and everything.
My roommate's name was Jessica. She was a cheerleader in high school, though, at the risk of sounding judgmental and stereo-type-y, she didn't look like one. She was obsessed with Sponge Bob Square Pants. She played her music very loudly (from her computer, not an instrument) whenever she felt like it. And she ate my food. To my knowledge, she never went in my mini fridge and took food. She may have sneaked a yogurt or a piece of cheese or something that I never knew about. But, luckily for the state of my emotions at the time, she never, like, ate the whole bowl of home-made soup my mom sent me back with. I probably would have cried for a week. But anything that didn't need to be refrigerated (chips, cookies, crackers, pop tarts), she felt she was welcomed to. We never actually made an agreement about whether or not we were sharing food. It was just understood that we wouldn't. At least on my end. We had always bought our own food, so I assumed we would just eat our own food. I never ate her food. She didn't eat mine while I was there. I'd just come home to an empty box of Better Cheddars in the trash. A box that I hadn't even opened yet, and that I didn't get any of. This was a problem for me because there were no grocery stores within walking distance of the campus, and I didn't have a car. I had to wait for a weekend that one of my parents were able to come and pick me up, to be able to leave the campus. She also never offered to drive me to the store, or asked if I wanted to go with her. Not that I expected her to. But, if I had a car, and a roommate who didn't have one, and I also helped myself to this roommate's food, I would offer them a ride to the store every once and a while.
Neither of us really made any attempt to be friends with each other. She had made her friends, and I had made... well, the choice to keep to myself. There was only one other girl in the whole school that I talked to in a friendly manner. She was a large, black lesbian named Leni, who lived two doors down from me. She actually even invited me to come out to a club with her and her friends one weekend. But, since my birthday is in December, I was still 17 when I started college, so I wasn't old enough to get into clubs. She'd invite me to come watch TV in her room when the roommate was blasting music, and invite me to eat dinner with her and her friends in the cafeteria. I'd take her up on these offers, but I didn't make much effort otherwise. I think I was too depressed then to realize, but I could have gotten a really great friend if I had just tried a little bit more. And possibly even some friends by association, since her friends never openly objected to me hanging around her room with them, or eating dinner with them. One time, the roommate an I had left our door open, and I was laying in bed watching TV. Leni walked by and tossed something at me. It was an index card, and written in pink highlighter it said, "Smile, damn it! -<3 Leni" I still have it. I guess it means a lot to me because it meant that someone in that place had at least some concern for my happiness.
Well, if I tell my whole story, this post is going to get waaay too long. I'm going to stop here, and finish it in another post. This will be a two part-er. Possibly three? Otherwise, this one post could go on forever. That's a pretty good way to get people to come back and read more, though, isn't it? (winkwink)
Around my junior year, my parents and I started looking for schools. To my surprise, there aren't (or at least there weren't back then) a whole lot of colleges that offer zoology in the NYC area. I found some really awesome ones in, like, South Africa and Australia, but my mom was not so keen on the idea of her 17-year-old daughter leaving home for the first time to go to school on another continent. I guess I agreed with her, because I didn't fight for it. I also figured that I could do South Africa/Australia for grad school. I had pretty good grades, but I wasn't getting in to any ivy league schools. I needed to find a school that I could actually get into but that still offered what I was looking for. I ended up finding this school in Allentown, Pennsylvania called Cedar Crest College, that was just about half way in between my dad's house in PA and my mom's house in NY. They didn't offer zoology, but they did offer something called "conservation biology and biodiversity" which was close enough for me at the time. If you're wondering what exactly that is... well, you can look it up. I went with my dad up to visit the school, and really liked it.
So, the time for applying for colleges rolled around, and I hadn't looked at any others. So I only applied to Cedar Crest. Good thing I got in, huh? My senior year of high school went by like a blur. I was on the yearbook staff, and devoted most of my time to that. There was one day where we stayed at school working on it for so long, the janitors had to kick us out around midnight. And no, that is not an exaggeration. Also, for those of you readers who may be in school- did you know how late the janitors stay there, cleaning up the school and doing other stuff (like watching Jeopardy)? You should appreciate them more for all their hard work. I graduated from high school, and the summer went by rather uneventfully. In August, we packed up my stuff, and moved me up to Cedar Crest College. There were orientations, roommate introductions, and tearful parent good byes. I feel incredibly stupid to admit this, but I didn't realize until the orientation that this was an all girls school. How does this even happen? I don't know. Am I really that unobservant? I guess so. I was incredibly nervous about living away from my parents for the first time, living with a stranger, and dealing with a college work load. The roommate was on some sort of team. Maybe it was track, or softball? Or maybe she played an instrument? Which ever it was, it caused her to have to go to school a week before the other students who were not in this musical athletic program. So by the time I had gotten there, she was already settled in. We were warned ahead of time about these special program kids and how they would get to go to school a week earlier than everyone else. I had hoped my roommate wouldn't be one of them, because that meant they'd totally get the good side of the room and everything.
My roommate's name was Jessica. She was a cheerleader in high school, though, at the risk of sounding judgmental and stereo-type-y, she didn't look like one. She was obsessed with Sponge Bob Square Pants. She played her music very loudly (from her computer, not an instrument) whenever she felt like it. And she ate my food. To my knowledge, she never went in my mini fridge and took food. She may have sneaked a yogurt or a piece of cheese or something that I never knew about. But, luckily for the state of my emotions at the time, she never, like, ate the whole bowl of home-made soup my mom sent me back with. I probably would have cried for a week. But anything that didn't need to be refrigerated (chips, cookies, crackers, pop tarts), she felt she was welcomed to. We never actually made an agreement about whether or not we were sharing food. It was just understood that we wouldn't. At least on my end. We had always bought our own food, so I assumed we would just eat our own food. I never ate her food. She didn't eat mine while I was there. I'd just come home to an empty box of Better Cheddars in the trash. A box that I hadn't even opened yet, and that I didn't get any of. This was a problem for me because there were no grocery stores within walking distance of the campus, and I didn't have a car. I had to wait for a weekend that one of my parents were able to come and pick me up, to be able to leave the campus. She also never offered to drive me to the store, or asked if I wanted to go with her. Not that I expected her to. But, if I had a car, and a roommate who didn't have one, and I also helped myself to this roommate's food, I would offer them a ride to the store every once and a while.
Neither of us really made any attempt to be friends with each other. She had made her friends, and I had made... well, the choice to keep to myself. There was only one other girl in the whole school that I talked to in a friendly manner. She was a large, black lesbian named Leni, who lived two doors down from me. She actually even invited me to come out to a club with her and her friends one weekend. But, since my birthday is in December, I was still 17 when I started college, so I wasn't old enough to get into clubs. She'd invite me to come watch TV in her room when the roommate was blasting music, and invite me to eat dinner with her and her friends in the cafeteria. I'd take her up on these offers, but I didn't make much effort otherwise. I think I was too depressed then to realize, but I could have gotten a really great friend if I had just tried a little bit more. And possibly even some friends by association, since her friends never openly objected to me hanging around her room with them, or eating dinner with them. One time, the roommate an I had left our door open, and I was laying in bed watching TV. Leni walked by and tossed something at me. It was an index card, and written in pink highlighter it said, "Smile, damn it! -<3 Leni" I still have it. I guess it means a lot to me because it meant that someone in that place had at least some concern for my happiness.
Well, if I tell my whole story, this post is going to get waaay too long. I'm going to stop here, and finish it in another post. This will be a two part-er. Possibly three? Otherwise, this one post could go on forever. That's a pretty good way to get people to come back and read more, though, isn't it? (winkwink)
Thursday, August 26, 2010
On friends, and my lack of them
I don't know if I will always do a blog post a day. I have this terrible habit of starting something new and getting all excited and gung-ho about it over the first few days, and then completely abandoning it shortly after. I really hope I don't do that with this. Even if I don't always do a blog a day, I hope I will post at least some what regularly for a long while. I really like being able to express my feelings and share my ideas openly, knowing that people can read it if they want to, but I'm also not forcing it on anyone who doesn't want to hear it. So anyway, I'll just jump right in to it.
I don't have any friends, despite that my facebook account claims that I have over 100. Most of them are people that I know from the internet, and those who are people I know in real life, I really don't spend any time with them. Every once and a while, maybe we'll get together and get lunch, or go to a movie or go shopping or something. They're more like acquaintances, I guess. But I don't have any real friends. No best friend, no person/people I can call up at any time and talk to about anything, or anything like that. I'm told that this isn't normal. I like to blame the fact that I have no friends on the other fact that I recently moved from NYC to Florida, but the truth is that I've been here for a year and a half now, and that is most likely more than enough time for normal people to make new friends.
I'd like to go off on a slight tangent right here and talk about how I'm a hypochondriac. Not the full-blown "I always think I'm dying of everything all the time" type. But I always assume that things are far more serious then they probably really are, and often think I have various health issues. I probably really do, though. For example, the other day I saw a commercial that was probably for some type of medication, or maybe just an awareness type of commercial. I don't remember exactly, because I was too busy dealing with the fact that I am probably going to die soon.There was a woman who talked about how she was only 23, and was always having chest pains and would get winded really easily and so on, and then she had a heart attack or something, and it turned out she had, like, 3 clogged arteries. I'm pretty sure I've got the same thing, and I'll probably have a heart attack soon, too.
Anyway, the reason I went off on this hypochondriac tangent is because I want to mention that I most likely have some sort of social disorder. Like maybe I have a mild case of some sort of high functioning autism. I'd like to stop right here for a second and say that I truly do not intend to offend anyone who actually does suffer from any sort of social disorder, nor am I trying to make light of it. If I have offended you, I am really, really sorry. I've never been diagnosed with anything, so of course I can't be sure, though I only went to a therapist for a very short time (another story for another day/post). But I honestly do think there is something wrong with me. I don't understand how adults make friends. In my mind, you make your friends while you are young and in school. Maybe even in college? And then you keep those friends, and those are the friends you hang out with when you're an adult. With this logic, the "just moved to a new state" excuse becomes a lot more valid. I honestly don't understand how you are supposed to make new friends as an adult. I guess work is an okay place. One of my current friends/acquaintances is someone I met at my previous job, but I think that was just a stroke of luck. In reality, you are just a bunch of people who are forced to spend time together because you work together, but trying to force a friendship out of that situation is not always a good idea. I learned that at my previous job, as well (yet another story for another day/post). So, maybe you will get lucky an actually click with someone you meet at work and build a friendship from there. But it's not a guarantee. I'd like to stop and point out right here that there are a number of people from jobs I had back in NY that I am still in touch with (mostly over facebook) and they are wonderful people.
But, as awesome as my work acquaintances are, I am still here with no real friends. Where do I go from here? Am I really expected to go out in to a public place where people gather for frivolity and merriment all by myself and just talk to strangers? Besides the fact that my mother has always told me never to speak to strangers, I feel like if I was a normal person, out with friends at some social gathering spot, and I saw a person hanging around all by themselves, I would say to my group, "Look at that sad person who has come here to this hip social gathering spot all by themselves. What a loser! We should shun them." And then we would. So, rather than be shunned by strangers I never cared about in the first place, I feel like it's a much better idea to just stay in my apartment by myself forever, and just hang out with the internet, and the TV and my cats.
I think here I will go on a bit about my childhood. I guess I was a fairly normal kid. I had friends. We played together. I even had some friends in high school that I hung out with sometimes. I even had people who I considered my "best friends". But looking back, I feel like I was always kind of "second" to everyone. I was the friend they hung out with when the friend they really wanted to hang out with was busy. Maybe I'm being over-dramatic, or my memories are mixed up, but I feel like this is the way things usually went. I kind of lost where I was going right here. I'm watching What I Like About You and eating salt & vinegar chips. FYI, I've only written this blog and yesterday's so far, but they took forever, because I can't usually concentrate on one thing for very long. It goes: write for 3 minutes, watch TV for 15, get up to get food, check other web sites for 20 minutes, watch more TV for 10 minutes, go to the bathroom, write for 5 minutes, watch TV for 30, etc., etc. This is why I dropped out of on-line college twice, and real college once. Yet again, stories for another day... So what was I talking about? Childhood friends. I still don't remember what I wanted to say, so I will just go on. Even though I had friends, I was always a big fan of playing by myself. I played with my friends and my sisters plenty, but I really did enjoy being by myself. This feeling has only grown over the years. Most of the time, I'd just plain rather be alone. Some human interaction isn't so bad once and a while, though. Going back to where I said I have no friends right now, because I moved to a new state... Truth be told- I didn't really have "true" friends back home, either. I've come to accept that this is just the way I am. It's probably due to some kind of social disorder.
I feel like I have so much I want to say right now. So many stories I want to share. But I also feel like, if I just wrote everything I was thinking into extremely long blog posts, there will be even less of a chance that anyone will ever read them. Also, a lot of my thoughts have nothing to do with each other, so putting them all together would make little sense. I've just lost my train of thought, again, after getting caught up reading an article about children in Nigeria who are accused of being witches and blamed for their families misfortunes, and subsequently either killed, or tortured and abandoned... Anyway, I think I may write up a few more blog posts, or at least ideas, in WordPad and save them to post in the next few days.
**Edit** I like to go back and re-read my post to see how much of an idiot I sound like, and to check for errors and stuff. I also realized that I like to, "stop right here" and point out stuff. I did it quite a lot in this post. I don't know how anyone else feels about it, but it annoys me. I'm not going to change it, but I will try not to do it so much any more.
I don't have any friends, despite that my facebook account claims that I have over 100. Most of them are people that I know from the internet, and those who are people I know in real life, I really don't spend any time with them. Every once and a while, maybe we'll get together and get lunch, or go to a movie or go shopping or something. They're more like acquaintances, I guess. But I don't have any real friends. No best friend, no person/people I can call up at any time and talk to about anything, or anything like that. I'm told that this isn't normal. I like to blame the fact that I have no friends on the other fact that I recently moved from NYC to Florida, but the truth is that I've been here for a year and a half now, and that is most likely more than enough time for normal people to make new friends.
I'd like to go off on a slight tangent right here and talk about how I'm a hypochondriac. Not the full-blown "I always think I'm dying of everything all the time" type. But I always assume that things are far more serious then they probably really are, and often think I have various health issues. I probably really do, though. For example, the other day I saw a commercial that was probably for some type of medication, or maybe just an awareness type of commercial. I don't remember exactly, because I was too busy dealing with the fact that I am probably going to die soon.There was a woman who talked about how she was only 23, and was always having chest pains and would get winded really easily and so on, and then she had a heart attack or something, and it turned out she had, like, 3 clogged arteries. I'm pretty sure I've got the same thing, and I'll probably have a heart attack soon, too.
Anyway, the reason I went off on this hypochondriac tangent is because I want to mention that I most likely have some sort of social disorder. Like maybe I have a mild case of some sort of high functioning autism. I'd like to stop right here for a second and say that I truly do not intend to offend anyone who actually does suffer from any sort of social disorder, nor am I trying to make light of it. If I have offended you, I am really, really sorry. I've never been diagnosed with anything, so of course I can't be sure, though I only went to a therapist for a very short time (another story for another day/post). But I honestly do think there is something wrong with me. I don't understand how adults make friends. In my mind, you make your friends while you are young and in school. Maybe even in college? And then you keep those friends, and those are the friends you hang out with when you're an adult. With this logic, the "just moved to a new state" excuse becomes a lot more valid. I honestly don't understand how you are supposed to make new friends as an adult. I guess work is an okay place. One of my current friends/acquaintances is someone I met at my previous job, but I think that was just a stroke of luck. In reality, you are just a bunch of people who are forced to spend time together because you work together, but trying to force a friendship out of that situation is not always a good idea. I learned that at my previous job, as well (yet another story for another day/post). So, maybe you will get lucky an actually click with someone you meet at work and build a friendship from there. But it's not a guarantee. I'd like to stop and point out right here that there are a number of people from jobs I had back in NY that I am still in touch with (mostly over facebook) and they are wonderful people.
But, as awesome as my work acquaintances are, I am still here with no real friends. Where do I go from here? Am I really expected to go out in to a public place where people gather for frivolity and merriment all by myself and just talk to strangers? Besides the fact that my mother has always told me never to speak to strangers, I feel like if I was a normal person, out with friends at some social gathering spot, and I saw a person hanging around all by themselves, I would say to my group, "Look at that sad person who has come here to this hip social gathering spot all by themselves. What a loser! We should shun them." And then we would. So, rather than be shunned by strangers I never cared about in the first place, I feel like it's a much better idea to just stay in my apartment by myself forever, and just hang out with the internet, and the TV and my cats.
I think here I will go on a bit about my childhood. I guess I was a fairly normal kid. I had friends. We played together. I even had some friends in high school that I hung out with sometimes. I even had people who I considered my "best friends". But looking back, I feel like I was always kind of "second" to everyone. I was the friend they hung out with when the friend they really wanted to hang out with was busy. Maybe I'm being over-dramatic, or my memories are mixed up, but I feel like this is the way things usually went. I kind of lost where I was going right here. I'm watching What I Like About You and eating salt & vinegar chips. FYI, I've only written this blog and yesterday's so far, but they took forever, because I can't usually concentrate on one thing for very long. It goes: write for 3 minutes, watch TV for 15, get up to get food, check other web sites for 20 minutes, watch more TV for 10 minutes, go to the bathroom, write for 5 minutes, watch TV for 30, etc., etc. This is why I dropped out of on-line college twice, and real college once. Yet again, stories for another day... So what was I talking about? Childhood friends. I still don't remember what I wanted to say, so I will just go on. Even though I had friends, I was always a big fan of playing by myself. I played with my friends and my sisters plenty, but I really did enjoy being by myself. This feeling has only grown over the years. Most of the time, I'd just plain rather be alone. Some human interaction isn't so bad once and a while, though. Going back to where I said I have no friends right now, because I moved to a new state... Truth be told- I didn't really have "true" friends back home, either. I've come to accept that this is just the way I am. It's probably due to some kind of social disorder.
I feel like I have so much I want to say right now. So many stories I want to share. But I also feel like, if I just wrote everything I was thinking into extremely long blog posts, there will be even less of a chance that anyone will ever read them. Also, a lot of my thoughts have nothing to do with each other, so putting them all together would make little sense. I've just lost my train of thought, again, after getting caught up reading an article about children in Nigeria who are accused of being witches and blamed for their families misfortunes, and subsequently either killed, or tortured and abandoned... Anyway, I think I may write up a few more blog posts, or at least ideas, in WordPad and save them to post in the next few days.
**Edit** I like to go back and re-read my post to see how much of an idiot I sound like, and to check for errors and stuff. I also realized that I like to, "stop right here" and point out stuff. I did it quite a lot in this post. I don't know how anyone else feels about it, but it annoys me. I'm not going to change it, but I will try not to do it so much any more.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
First Blog
I've been sitting here for a really long time, staring at the "name your blog" page. At least, it feels like a really long time. I haven't actually been keeping track. As I'm writing this (in WordPad), I still have not picked a title yet. I feel like it should be something at least a little bit clever and interesting, yet still random and slightly funny, while not misleading the reader in to thinking that this blog will have any sort of structure or be about any thing in particular. But then I remember that I am not terribly creative or interesting, so I can't promise you that what I come up with will be any of these things.
**Edit** I named it "Beabins is Pretty", which is kind of a dumb name, but whatever. Beabins is my nickname for my cat, Bea. She's basically the most pretty-est cat ever.
Like I mentioned, this blog is not going to be about something in particular. It's just going to be a place for me to share my random thoughts, feelings, stories, ideas, etc. I'm not so sure that it will be worth reading, but if you do read it, that's really awesome, so thanks!
Apparently there is something called "Bird Lung Disease". I am watching Confessions: Animal Hoarding on Animal Planet. I feel like there is a good chance I will end up on this show someday. I'm only, like, half kidding. One of the hoarders on this episode is named Jackie. Just sayin'.
I feel like I should mention a few things here. I try to write well, because I want to sound smart. But I am not the best speller, and spell checkers can't catch everything, especially grammatical errors. I know the basic rules of grammar, but I am far from a pro. I will not hold it against anyone who wants to correct me. I also want to point out that my "good" lap top has recently exploded (not literally) and died, and is currently with the Geek Squad being fixed. So, I am using my old lap top for now, which has some keys that choose if and when they want to work.
Now I'm watching Monsters Inside Me, which is, for those of you who don't know, a show about human parasites. Not humans who are parasites, but actual parasites who live in/on humans. This show makes me want to not live any more, because basically anything you do can get you infected with creepy crawlies. But I love to watch it. The scie-Oh. The first story of this episode takes place in Gainesville, FL, which is like an hour and a half away from me. I've now connected both shows to me. Because everything is about me (kidding). Anyway, what I was saying was that the science-y factor of the show takes away some of the icky factor. They just mentioned Shands Hospital, and I know of that. I get extremely excited when popular media mentions things I know about.
I am keeping this first, introductory post light, and not very full of information. For no reason other than, I simply don't feel like going into "it" right now. In following posts, I plan to talk more about myself and my life. But for now, I think it is time for some mint chocolate chip ice cream.
P.S. This seven-year-old girl (the first "story"), has a pork tapeworm in her brain. This is, like, the 10th episode of this show that I've seen someone have a pork tapeworm in their brain. I am never eating pork again. Ever. Except for bacon.
**Edit** I named it "Beabins is Pretty", which is kind of a dumb name, but whatever. Beabins is my nickname for my cat, Bea. She's basically the most pretty-est cat ever.
Like I mentioned, this blog is not going to be about something in particular. It's just going to be a place for me to share my random thoughts, feelings, stories, ideas, etc. I'm not so sure that it will be worth reading, but if you do read it, that's really awesome, so thanks!
Apparently there is something called "Bird Lung Disease". I am watching Confessions: Animal Hoarding on Animal Planet. I feel like there is a good chance I will end up on this show someday. I'm only, like, half kidding. One of the hoarders on this episode is named Jackie. Just sayin'.
I feel like I should mention a few things here. I try to write well, because I want to sound smart. But I am not the best speller, and spell checkers can't catch everything, especially grammatical errors. I know the basic rules of grammar, but I am far from a pro. I will not hold it against anyone who wants to correct me. I also want to point out that my "good" lap top has recently exploded (not literally) and died, and is currently with the Geek Squad being fixed. So, I am using my old lap top for now, which has some keys that choose if and when they want to work.
Now I'm watching Monsters Inside Me, which is, for those of you who don't know, a show about human parasites. Not humans who are parasites, but actual parasites who live in/on humans. This show makes me want to not live any more, because basically anything you do can get you infected with creepy crawlies. But I love to watch it. The scie-Oh. The first story of this episode takes place in Gainesville, FL, which is like an hour and a half away from me. I've now connected both shows to me. Because everything is about me (kidding). Anyway, what I was saying was that the science-y factor of the show takes away some of the icky factor. They just mentioned Shands Hospital, and I know of that. I get extremely excited when popular media mentions things I know about.
I am keeping this first, introductory post light, and not very full of information. For no reason other than, I simply don't feel like going into "it" right now. In following posts, I plan to talk more about myself and my life. But for now, I think it is time for some mint chocolate chip ice cream.
P.S. This seven-year-old girl (the first "story"), has a pork tapeworm in her brain. This is, like, the 10th episode of this show that I've seen someone have a pork tapeworm in their brain. I am never eating pork again. Ever. Except for bacon.
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