If you've bothered to read any of my previous posts, you may be able to surmise that I am sort of a picky eater. Moreover, it's not so much the what I'm picky about but more along the lines of the where. I recently ventured out to one of my favorite lunch haunts which I had not been to in a while, and was seriously looking foreword to it. In fact, all I could think about that morning was how good of a lunch I was going to have. Finally, that time rolled around and I got in my car and drove over there. Hilarity soon ensued.
I've never really noticed since I don't drink the stuff that often, but tea is one of those drinks where there are about as many varieties as there are genders in San Fransisco. That's not a bad thing, but I'm just saying that it makes it highly customizable. You have your regular Earl Gray, your sun tea, sweet tea, green tea, white tea (a personal favorite of mine, regardless of the snobbery or the $1.75 price tag associated with it...fuck you Snapple), and of course the big bad grandad of them all, iced tea. For some reason growing up, I had a serious aversion to iced tea. It just never tasted quite right to my complex four year old palate. Later on, I learned that if you flavored the shit out of it and added about enough sugar to send even the healthiest of people into a diabetic coma, I might be able to choke it down.
Possibly another secret ingredient...
Anyway, returning to my tea story. I had to wait in line since I made the mistake of leaving at 12:30, right in the middle of lunch hour. Whatever, I was hungry and the line was moving at a nice clip. The man at the front of the line (three people before me) placed his order and left. About a good 4 minutes later it was my turn. I ordered and paid, and then made my way over to the soda fountain to get a drink. Who was there, filling up his cup? The man who had ordered five minutes previously. He hadn't even sat down which was evident by the food he was still holding. I watched him fill what was left of his drink (lord only knows what was in there already): ~1/3 Lipton Iced Tea, some coca cola, lemonade, a little bit of mountain dew, and finally to top it all off, some diet cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper. I winced a bit and began to fill my cup with Coke, thinking that his concoction was complete, but I was sorely mistaken. He was only finished with the liquid portion. He then strained out the ice and proceeded to add four packets of sugar. He then took a sip and, after deciding that he better make it a bit more healthy for himself he proceeded to add two packets of Sweet and Low.
I was horrified. I didn't quite know how to react. He looked at me as if what he had just done was completely normal and then sat down at his table. Now, I'm all for individuality, but I'm not sure if a beverage is the best way to express it. That man took obeying your thirst to a whole new level. If your drink has more ingredients and spices in it than most meals prepared on Bravo's Top Chef, something is seriously wrong.
Thus far, working in the lab has been great. I like what I'm doing, I'm generally pleased with my progress, my advisor is great, etc. Things have hit that proverbial slow point currently, but I'm sure they will pick up sooner or later (hopefully sooner). Still, I'm pushing through. However, in the past few days I've noticed something that might start to gnaw away at me if left unchecked: these other students in the lab treat me like I don't have a clue. Seriously, it's frightening (especially if you knew some of them). I don't mean to complain...well, actually I do, and I'm sure their just being nice and trying to offer "helpful suggestions", but in the end it makes me feel like I'm the little kid who's hand they have to hold while in line at the Chucky Cheese for pizza. Fuck, even I know the difference between pepperoni and cheese!
Seriously, it's this bad...
Perhaps I'm being overly sensitive. But the fact of the matter is is that this has been going on over the past few months. There's always someone trying to help, and its causing me serious self esteem issues. "Oh, well if you're thirsty there's a water fountain right outside the door." Oh, would that be the one that I have passed every morning for the past 2 months? "It's fine now, but when you actually start your classes you're not going to have so much free time." Oh really, as if I haven't taken any classes before. Nope, I just went to THE SAME FUCKING SCHOOL YOU DID FOR 5 YEARS! It often seems as if they are either babying me or trying to demean me...sometimes both at the same time.Around every corner there is somebody waiting to state the obvious as if I had no idea. I'm new, not retarded!
I got a speeding ticket a few days ago, and since then, it has sat in my glove compartment. Perhaps if I leave it there long enough, alone, in the dark, it may get the idea that it simply isn't wanted and will disappear. This was my first ticket and I'm already trying to find ways to not deal with the consequences for my actions. Very mature. In actuality, I'm a little upset with myself for the whole thing. Not so much for the speeding and not so much for my lack of responsibility or ability to deal with the situation, but more for the fact that I got a ticket for doing 45 in a 35. That was perhaps the most annoying thing of all. I was hoping that my first ticket would be for something that carried a bit more weight when brought up in casual conversation...like 85 in a school zone.
Yep
Still, it is something that I need to deal with, which most likely means sacrificing an entire Saturday and going to traffic school. Who knows what interesting things I will learn while stuck indoors listening to a 50-something year old guy named Steve who still lives at home with his mother and is volunteering to teach the class so he can give back to society all that he has taken from it. As you can see, I have mulled over the waste of my weekend quite thoroughly. Still though, today I found out that for all my complaining, the police actually do serve a much needed purpose on the road.
While on my way to school, I noticed that an older pick-up was pulling up fast behind me. I moved over and let him go flying by. Over the next few minutes he managed to:
1. Almost hit two other people
2. Cut me off
3. Go 30 miles per hour over the speed limit
4. Talk to himself the entire time he was committing the offenses mentioned above
Being a recent victim of the Tucson Police Department, I was wondering "where the hell are the cops when you actually need them?" I got my answer two intersections ahead when a lovely motorcycle cop pulled out from around the corner and pulled the guy over. Holy crap, they actually can do something right. Since the guy was pulled over, the rest of his previous victims (myself included) felt it necessary to slow down and watch has the officer made his way to the side of the car. I felt sorry for the old guy driving that car that almost killed me. So sorry in fact that as I was passing him doing 20, I rolled down my window and gave him the finger. It was a fitting adieu for now, but who knows...I'll probably see that poor asshole in traffic school.
It seems that everyone has a plan for growing up. Whether that plan be a road map forced upon you by your parents or simply doodled on your hand at the last possible second, a plan does exist. The question however: do you choose to follow it? An interesting observation which I have found is that those people with the printed map oftentimes choose not to use it, whereas the scribbled out directions seem to have a stronger following with regard to the "plan". I think that I have a map of my own to follow...hell, my parents might as well have been AAA, but lately I'm finding that I've added more scribbles, circles, notes, and destinations than ever before in my journey. Now, if I could ever figure out how to fold the damn thing back up and jam it into the glove box I would be ready to go.
It's a logical progression so I'm told: go to high school, go to college, go to work, go to the alter, go to Hawaii, go back to work, go to retirement, go to a home, go to heaven. I used to be a big subscriber to that plan. Now, that plan can go to hell. I'm in serious need of a change, but what that change is God only knows. I need to take some time and figure out exactly what it is that is keeping me unhappy with my current situation and the rectify it. Or, at the very least address it. On my more pessimistic days I see myself taking one step foreword and two steps back. On even more pessimistic days I find myself trying to take a step foreword, and the falling and spraining my ankle. Still, I must push through in order to be truly happy.
Not quite the change I was thinking of...
On that note, I resolve to change a few things in my day to day life. What those are, I have no idea. I think I'll figure those out as I go. Try something new, if it sticks, great, if not, try something else. Don't expect me to walk in one day with a wife and a mohawk, but small changes for the better will eventually come around (that's not to say a mohawk wouldn't be interesting...) Recent movies and television shows have got me thinking a lot about what is important in life (ahem...Big Fish). I know it is perhaps not the safest (or sanest) move to model a life after a movie with a budget of over ten million dollars, but seriously, one can't help but speculate about what a little change can do for them...
If you had the week that I have had, you'd deserve a big ol' drink. A drink, and possibly a Valium. Seriously, what started off well eventually found its way through boring, nerve racking, frustrating, shocking, and then finally to just plain illegal. The funny thing is, the question of legality of the situation was not of my doing, and yet somehow I seem to be in the middle of it. Have you ever just sat down and wondered how exactly it is that you and your sibling were raised by the same people? I can honestly say that I have. How is it possible for one sibling to navigate through everyday life generally OK, while the other feels compelled to stop and create confrontation and problems at every possible point along the way? Seriously, if my sibling could ride a horse, I'd run to church because I would be 100% sure that a swarm of locusts and the rest of the apocalypse would not be far behind.
I'll admit it freely, my sister and I have never really gotten along. Growing up, we were complete opposites: myself the introverted band nerd wielding an oboe and a presentable report card, while she was the outgoing softball player who was friends with three quarters of her high school class. She never let me forget it. Currently we manage to get along with each other when we have to (at least I do), but if we are forced to spend extended periods of time together, we're screwed. Recently, things have been vary unstable with both of us. I've had to re-evaluate a bunch of things and essentially start all over, while she has been struggling with stuff of her own. However, I think that I've dealt with my stuff and have finally begun to get things back together. In contrast, the drama continues for her. So much so that as tough as it is to admit it, I decided not to visit until the last possible night she was in town recently, and only for a few minutes. There's just too much drama there for one person to take. She once spoke to me about filling out an application to be on MTV's The Real World. I honestly think that if they ever got that application the producers must have decided that she was too dramatic for the show. Too dramatic for The Real World...that's like being too young to go on the rides at Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch.
Would you like fries with your anxiety over the smallest things?
So what it all boils down to is that I need to figure out a better way to deal with it all. This is not just something that I can ignore and eventually make it all go away. I can't afford to spend every waking minute while she is in town hiding out at home, hoping that I won't accidentally have to clean up with the messes that she leaves behind. Seriously, this weekend was spent running information back and forth on the phone between an unnamed law enforcement agency while trying to appease my parents who still must constantly wonder where it all went wrong with us. I need to figure this whole thing out, figure out a plan to deal with it all. Ah, strategy.
