Hey. I'm amazed you've stopped to take a peak! I'm sorry to say that my blog is full of negative, atrociously positive, philosophical, or otherwise stupid posts concerning my thoughts, feelings, and every day life. But what the hell! If you think it's great, then I think you're great. Got it?

Jan 28, 2012


It was only a few days ago, Thursday to be exact, when I found out that my childhood-best friend had just been taken to foster care by her cruel and mentally psychotic mother.

However, I was told that Erica had tried to run away again, so I cannot blame her mother for being stressed and put out by her actions, though I think foster care is a little too strong for such actions by a confused, emotionally wrecked teenage girl.

Honestly? I knew Erica was surrounded by bad influences and she was dating a guy who lived on the edge of risk his whole life and she had done drugs in the past and her womanly hormones are destroying her from the inside...but I knew she could quit acting like a hopeless teenager and become strong again if she wanted to, which was why I hadn't given up on her quite yet.

But Erica, being a rebel since she was born, wasn't finished feeling like she could do whatever she wanted. She sluffed class, she swore up and down, she dated Skyler despite her mother saying no, and she didn't get her school work done. Most of these were her mother's concerns, of course, and I agree with her mother for trying so hard to keep her in line. I think it was Erica's fault in the sense that she didn't stop to think about how her actions would play out with her mother or with neighbors or friends or police.

There was a period of time when Erica told me she would try her very hardest to get her work done, never sluff a class, and do whatever her mother told her to do. Her reward? Her mother pulled her out of school for lunch! But it was Erica's weakness of needing to have attention, needing to be rebellious, that she began to slack and follow her old habits of bad, even downright inappropriate behaviors.

I knew that when she began to slack again, I couldn't help her, no matter what I said or tried to do for her. I gave up, and I just talked casually with her. I tried to divide my attention amongst all my friends. My attention to her started to slack, and it wasn't until after Tyler told me about her being in foster care that I realized what I had been missing.

She would stand in the hallway and just talk and talk with Skyler right up to the bell, when she was forced to come into class, and every time I saw her talking, her manner, her expression, her body language said it all. She was depressed, stressed, and angry. It never dawned on me.

Then there was the picture.

Two days before she was taken to foster care, I took a picture of all my friends because I desperately wanted a memory of us in tenth grade. I didn't know why it had to be in the middle of January, but I felt that I needed to. So I gathered us all together and I got a picture. I was going to edit them after school, but I got to be too busy, and Wednesday was a very bad day for me.

So it was Thursday, after I heard the news, after Tyler left my house, that I pulled up my pictures and decided to edit them for my friends. I began to cry again as I stared at Erica's blank, somber face in the picture.

She's at the far left, the one apart from everyone else. I feel so lucky to have at least gotten a picture of her before she was gone.

Tyler keeps telling me he thinks it's not going to last, and that she'll come back, but I know that won't be for a while. If at all.

Now I get to go over to Patty's house and try to get my books back from her before she touches any of Erica's stuff. If something happens to "Clockwork Angel", I'm gonna be pissed off.

Jan 18, 2012

Nobody likes being woken up... The alarm clock is an exception.

I wonder what's worse? Holding in your anger until you think you might explode, or exploding in anger to superiors and parents? Both of them are pretty bad...but the first one seems less dangerous.

I mean, it really began when I finished my online homework and went downstairs, my abdomen throbbing with pressure and pain. I fell asleep like that; holding my stomach as though I could clench my internal organs and massage them back to normal.

As my title explains, I'm sure no one likes to just be woken up, unless it's a necessary procession to get to school. Well, I was awoken by none other than my brother Tyler, who by this time in my life, I've grown to be very sick of. It's harsh to say, but it's a true fact. I've dealt with him since the moment he was born. That's fourteen years and a half.

Anyway, I was awoken for dinner, and to also do dishes after dinner.

I've illustrated my loathing for dishes in many different blog posts, but I think this time has got to be one of those worse times. Mainly because I was rudely awaken.

Whenever I'm angry, I have this raw attitude that I almost never feel or display, but when I do feel them, my thoughts usually go like this:

If you don't want to rinse off these f***ing dishes, then I don't want to wash these f***ing dishes. 

Well if you want to use unnecessary bowls while you cook, that's fine, I just won't wash them. 

But in the end, I always obediently carry out the full task, despite how I feel. I get a sense of accomplishment when I finish a big task like the chore, or when I complete a fairly laborious project. So I always do my best, no matter what.

I have to scrub off dried food such as cereal, raw meat juice, yogurt, sour cream, cheese, cooked on bread, and dried spaghetti sauce with hot water. This first step takes a good 3/4 of my hot water. I do this first because I have this extreme pet peeve. If the soapy water is tainted even a tiny bit, it won't do and I'll freak out. So there. Then I have to fill up the sink, using the rest of my hot water. Now I'm down to lukewarm water and the washing, which I usually take in categories of dishes. So glasses first, bowls, plates, miscellaneous, big pots and pans, then the most laborious of all; utensils.

Drying kills me. I hate drying the dishes and putting them away. I don't know why, but I just do. I suspect it might be the transition from wet hands to dry, weird hands while I work with the dishes.

Lastly, I get to scrub furiously at the counters for the dried milk, cereal, raw meat juice, yogurt, sour cream, cheese, bread crumbs, and dried spaghetti sauce. Sweeping comes next, which is my stress reliever at the end. It's more relaxing than you think. SOO much easier. It's like heaven after what I had to do. It's fun too!

It doesn't help when your father cooks that night and uses a huge popcorn bowl to hold the spaghetti when the pan could have held it, and when he uses a glass mixing bowl to hold the spaghetti sauce when the pan could have held it, and when he splatters sauce all over the stove and counter, and when he uses a bowl to hold the ground turkey after it's been cooked when he could have used the plate he cooked it on to hold it. You know, simple things like that would make me a happier camper than my dark, angry attitude I always obtain when I do the dishes.

It's also difficult when you finish the dishes, and the kitchen is looking spotless, and five minutes later your brother comes in to use a cup, or your father comes in to make his ten o' clock snack and gets yogurt all over the counter and sink and uses fifty dishes to do it.

That's when I want to shoot myself.

It's during those times when I begin to get a painful knot in my neck. It must be from stress, I'm sure, but I've figured out why. Basically, I try to do my best yet do it quickly, so I end up rushing myself and feeling stressed out because I have so many other things I have to do to finish the task. Same thing goes for work, since there's so much to do at work and so little time to get it done in. It's not necessarily the overall day for me. Just the tasks. I've probably had quite a few knots in my neck this past month. If I ever get a massage, it's going to be one painful motherf***er.

But, I should be thankful. Working at a food shop grants me the ability to avoid doing dishes on the days that I work, thus eliminating my normal chore amount from "Normal" to "Below normal".

I still hate the chore, though.

I've decided that when I become the mother of my own household, and even when I'm living with a boyfriend or whatever, I'm going to make the rule that if you don't rinse off your plate and stack them neatly in categorized piles, YOU'RE doing them. Not me. It's going to be a habit engraved into their minds. Their cooking habits will be clean and precise as well, I'll make sure of it. They'll clean as they cook, not let the kitchen explode in their wake and not clean it up.

And.obviously I'm going to buy a nice dishwasher. None of this Maytag shit that these rental houses have. THAT is ridiculous.


P.S. It's hard to have a happy face while doing the dishes, so whenever my dad asks me "Oh Mindy, what's wrong?" I have the hardest time in refraining from yelling. I try my hardest to calmly say, "You won't like what I have to say, so I'd rather not be disturbed." But I might end up yelling, so if I don't post for at least a month, you should worry.

Jan 12, 2012

The Random Beginning for 2012

So this is my first blog post for 2012. As far as I can remember, that is, because I don't exactly remember writing anything on here after New Years, though I might have.

Anyway, I'm sure you guys like to hear news, despite it being good or bad. My news? The end of the term is tomorrow! And I've finally gotten past the frightfully laborious projects and assignments assigned by my know-it-all teachers. I learned a valuable skill over Christmas break, and that is NOT to procrastinate. I watched first hand as Pepe the Lovely tried to hurriedly get her book review done before the next class period. I didn't even get to draw a picture for her. :'(

During math today, I drew comics. I'll take pictures of them and show you how much I hated my Algebra I teacher!

I also thought about something today in the same class period, and expressed it in comic form. I don't have anything against them, and it's not a refined idea, but it's just something I thought of when I listened to a handicapped student talk with a really nerdy student today in class.

And to think that comics are related to the end of the term. I suppose when you think about it, the end of the term just makes you want to find a stress reliever as quick as possible, and it might be rude in some way. It's a good thing I'll probably, hopefully, most likely never see Mr. Chruma again. Hopefully. I pray.

I'm a licensed driver now, which means I can drive all by myself in the car and go wherever I would like that isn't a two hour drive. I have nowhere to go. :\ Except work, which will be cool to drive myself to work. I'm still waiting for my official plastic license to come in the mail. They're taking forever to get it to me! I'm shocked at how long it takes to print a plastic card with a few words and a picture on it. (My picture, by the way, makes me look like I'm in jail or something, which is sad. The woman took the picture really quick and I forgot to smile.)

It's way cool as well, because I wrote a letter to the one who carries letters. You know who that is? That's right. I wrote a letter to my mailman and he responded. His name is P.J. apparently. Cool, eh? I thanked him sarcastically for delivering mail better than the UPS or E-mail, and then I thanked him gratuitously for bringing me the Supernatural series in the mail. He quickly responded, "Thank you for the nice note, and yes, the house is definitely blue." Did I mention my mother and I have an ongoing war about what color my house is? It's totally blue.

Now I've gotten thinking about Supernatural. Have you seen Supernatural? It's a good series, especially since I get to look at these guys all the time:


I assume you might be wondering what the heck Supernatural is about...and I don't really feel like summarizing it. I just want to stare at him now. You can go to their website and look it up or something. Get it through netflix. Do something. Because it's amazing. It's so amazing, that it got my friend Brody in one episode. Yeah. Beat that.