This Idiot Girl Moment Brought To You By The Letter Cydni

So I thought I would take out the trash. Being the person I am, I was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of stretch pants that I wear to exercise but that I usually would never actually wear outside the house. In addition, I had not showered, nor had I wiped yesterday's mascara out from under my eyes. I put on a pair of dress shoes that were easy to slip on, as I was just going to the dumpster and back.

Yep, I locked myself out. First I went to the R.A.'s apartment but it turned out she had moved away. Then I trekked over to the housing office, where they made a phone call to the MASA office, where I should have gone in the first place, and told me someone would meet me back at my apartment. So I walked back home and found...no one there. I waited a few minutes before heading over to find the MASA office, where I discovered the girl had forgotten. Ok. One of the R.A.s let me in.

So I'm I'm pretty sure the entire town of Logan has now seen me walking heavily in my dress shoes with freshly blistered feet, wearing only stretch pants that I wouldn't even put on to go to wal mart, and an old t-shirt that says, "Carrot Tops Are Green, Einstein." across the front. Oh, joy!

My Book!

Somewhere, packed away in the scary room, is the seed of a book. I must find it, and I must work on it.

...Weep And You Weep Alone

It seems strange that going to book club would be so important to me that I might actually burst into tears at the first sign that I might not be able to go, but that's exactly what happened tonight when I walked out of my front door and stood on the front lawn, pushing the unlock button on my keychain over and over. Of course, Shayne had taken my car, just as he has since we got here. But the last few days, when I was working, he took his own car, which is parked several blocks away and to which I have no key. Today he took mine, and I didn't know until it was time to go.

I guess I didn't realize what a toll living in Logan had taken on me until I found myself crying, trying to hold back the sobs that I knew would only make my face red and solve nothing. Luckily, I had the idea to ask Lacey for a ride. Otherwise I would have just collapsed in a heap, thinking about the few dollars I had been hoarding all month, the book I had read and pondered, the dinner I had looked forward to and the people (other humans!) I desperately wanted to see.

Shayne takes my car as a money-saving strategy, and he wants to become a one-car family, but I find myself becoming more and more opposed to that idea. Sitting at home with nowhere to go for three months is maddening, and I know it will only become more frustrating. Because here I am, back in Utah, in a town that smells like poop, and I don't even have the use of my car. When I was single I could at least go places. Now I can't go anywhere, and I tell myself it's OK because I have nowhere to go anyway, but really it's not OK.

Of course, it's not as if Shayne does this on purpose. He's trying to find ways to save money, and my clinical depression isn't his fault. His family functioned like this, shuttling each other to work and trading the car back and forth amongst themselves, whereas my family has almost always had at least two cars. In my family, nobody was really stuck at home. And maybe they weren't stuck in his family either, because they lived in a town where they were mostly established and they knew other people.

Rationality aside, I want to scream at him and demand my car back. No, you can't take my car away from me! Give it back! My mother gave it to me! I don't want to be trapped here in this little apartment in this shabby little redneck town, waiting for you to come home. I'm not a housewife and I don't want to be. Use your own damn car and give me mine back!

What I actually said: "When I start getting paid, I think you should get your car out of hawk, because I was really upset when I thought I wouldn't be able to go to book club."

And so we see if rational, thoughtfully chosen words can really get the point across.

Reflections Upon Having Finally Joined Twitter

I resisted twitter for a long time, only giving in so I could receive updates from summer camp on my phone. It seems a little unnatural to me, at least the way I understand it. People phone their tweets in at any time of the day, describing the minutiae of their lives to the tiniest detail. Now I'm in the salon. Now I'm watching a movie. Wow, I like it!

I mean, the whole focus of writing a story is to include the most entertaining parts that will keep people reading and exclude the everyday slogging through life. I see no reason to know what my friends are doing at every moment, and I feel quite certain they don't want to know every tiny detail of what I'm doing. (Now I'm watching Judge Judy. Now I'm watching Iron Chef. I should be reading. I don't feel like reading. I just want to sit here like a slug.)

Of course, this is the perception of a person who has never actually belonged to twitter until now. Will it surprise me? Is it really cool enough to earn its popularity. We shall see.

It's Kind Of Like In That Movie "Signs"

The back of our couch is where half-full cups go to die, and it's all my doing.

Things Everybody Else Knew About Painting That I Just Learned Today

1. It's not enough to just wear an apron. You must also change into grubby clothes.

2. Between me and the can of spray paint, the paint is smarter.

3. Spray paint flies in all directions. Well, I knew that, which is why I was prepared with a newspaper sheet to place behind what I was painting and catch blowback. But in all that, I somehow forget that paint's favorite direction to fly is down. I now have drips on my patio.

4. Spray paint has a mind of its own. It's not thick like normal paint. It doesn't cover dark green paint very well, and if you add more paint it just runs in rivulets. Not pretty.

5. Ha ha it's fun!

New Job

OK, so I went in for my first day of training. I'm a jaded soul, and I tend to be very skeptical about my ability to like, let alone do well at, call center jobs. But from what I've seen so far, this one appears to be pretty cool. So I heave a sigh of relief and feel grateful to have a job.

And I can once again support my craft habit (I hope)! So I'm kicking off the summer by enrolling in a class called Red Velvet Summer Camp and I am sooooo excited to get down and jam out some craft projects. Nothing makes me feel more content or more alive than creating something I find beautiful, and this class will provide tutorials for thirty different projects (eeeeee!).

The summer camp doesn't start till June 14, but there is consolation for me: Creative Boot Camp! It isn't about crafts but about whatever artistic medium most speaks to you - in my case, writing. I need a shove. I can never be a writer if I never write anything, right?

So the moral of the story is that I am STOKED about this summer and rarin' to get started.