Packin' it all in

So, I've found an apartment for me and my mom. I've gotten us boxes from the U-Haul place right next to our current complex. I've packed up the yellow pansy china that we never use, but are going to this time.

Fanny May is being just terrible to us. Well, I don't know if it's Fanny May the company, or just the jackhole that my mom's been dealing with. They gave us a timeline to get out, and we accepted. If we agreed to leave before the 2nd of February, we got 2,000.00, which would pay for the deposits at the apartment complex.

Well, this jackhole, Danny, decided that my mom's been "uncooperative" with him, and that he's not going to give her any money.

This is why homeowners rub feces on walls and blow up microwaves, Mortgage Companies of the world! Maybe you guys should look into what your dealers are doing!

My mom thinks he's just going to pocket the money, and I think she's probably right. She's tried calling people at Fanny May, but she just keeps getting voicemail and no one calls her back, so I guess they're sort of giving her the shaft, too. If one of your employees was stealing from you, wouldn't you want to know?

I've made out a budget for the year, and if I go twenty dollars in either direction, it could spell tragedy for me.

And I got a ticket.

On the plus side, I won't have to clean out the house that I'm vacating, because I'm leaving everything I don't want behind.

And I'm sort of tempted to smear some feces on the wall.

Falling apart at the seams

My mom has turned into one of the many, many people who have been foreclosed on in the past year. We are going to be out of our house by the 30th of January (OMG), and I'm really stressed out and upset, and I'm pretty sure she feels worse.

When I decided to go to college, I moved back home thinking I'd be secure.

Okay, now you need to probably turn away, because I'm going to start spewing forth some self pity right now, and it's not going to be cool or nice or even decent, and it's certainly sort of mean to my mom to spew this self-pity, but this is how I'm feeling.

I have a depressive disorder, and as such, I get into really dark moods a lot. I don't shut down and hide in a corner. No. I get angry. With everyone and everything. I am so angry right now, and it's been weeks since I've taken my medicine. This morning, I totally cut someone off and then fooled around with them on the road until they were as mad as me. I totally want to yell at everyone. I don't want to work. I fully acknowledge that I'm about thisclose to turning into one of the homeless people who stands outside and yells all day, because that's what I feel like doing. I suddenly have to start paying high rent again when I didn't. My plans of getting out of debt fast are being put on hold. My life is being turned upside down, and it sucks. I hate it. I took my pills so that I can make it home and to school without killing someone or just randomly ramming into a stranger's car because it might feel good.

I haven't been jogging, and I know that's got a lot to do with it. I really take out my frustrations on the field.

I just want to scream and cry and yell and get everyone as angry as I am.

I throw truffles in your general direction

So, I got the flu. And because of the CDCE, it was considered the "Swine Flu" (which I have always thought of as being a thinly veiled cover for some sort of zombie virus) , but since I did not feel like eating either brains or truffles, I'm pretty sure I just had a run-of-the-mill, pain-like-nothing-you've-ever-experienced-before, sexy-doctor-asking-you-why-your-fever-got-so-high flu.

And yes, he really did ask me why I let my fever get so high, like I suddenly came down with the flu and thought, "Hey! let's see how high I can get my body temperature to rise before my brain boils in its own fluid!"

And yes, he was totally sexy. I think he was Persian, and he had an accent, and he was all dark and mysterious with piercing purpley-brown eyes. I mean, I was near death. I wasn't actually DEAD.

And then I joined NaNoWriMo, and I have no more time to write anything, let alone essays that actually are read, or blogs that no one reads.

Also, I'm getting depressed because my grandma died in June, and I'm really starting to miss her a lot now. It's been months since I heard her voice, heard her call me "honey" or "sweetheart." She's not going to call me this year and ask for an official Red Ryder carbine action range-model air rifle. I'm not going to tell her that she'll just shoot her eye out.

So...yeah. this is probably the stuff that I should be writing about. But I haven't been.

Anyway, that's life.

Is this thing on?

So, at the beginning of the school year, I had this great idea to blog and share my life with the ether of the internet, just in case anyone was looking. I had googled "College at thirty" and all I could find were newspaper articles about people going to college at thirty and changing their lives, blah blah blah, aren't they special cakes. I also thought I would want to tell everyone in my classes about my blog to try and get more readership, and one of my teachers even has us post on a message board and her blog, and I could write in my blog's name, but...I don't know, I guess I prefer anonymity. And it's not like I talk about them, either! I'm crazy, I know.

School is kicking my butt. It's HARD. It's challenging, but I like it. We've finally gotten to a point in my Algebra class where I don't feel completely lost. In fact, I think I'm doing pretty well. We'll see; I took a quiz last night.

I have to give a presentation in my English class about grass-fed beef, which is a passion of mine. I tried to give it last week, but the disk wouldn't work, and I couldn't download it from my e-mail, and the more I tried, the more nervous and upset I got, and then I started shaking and sweating and feeling like an idiot. The professor told me to just do it this week instead, so that's what I'm going to do tonight.

And then I'm going to sleep. A lot.

Yeah, I'm totally into this...

If someone was looking for a blog to follow because they're thinking of going to college at or after the age of 30, I probably totally let them down (sorry) these last few weeks. Stuff happens. I had a birthday, I've been studying for mid-terms (my college starts in August, so this week we have mid-terms), and I look at this blank screen and can't think of anything to write that's even remotely interesting. My life is really boring right now. Work, home, school, gym, lather, rinse, repeat...

Anyway, this morning as I was getting ready for work, I remembered that I wanted to bring some running shoes with me to keep in my locker because my co-worker and I have decided to jog during lunch. It was raining really hard this morning, though, so I thought I'd wear the running shoes (they're white, so I hardly ever wear them at home) to work and pack my cute little ballet flats in my gym bag. I decided to throw on my windbreaker, too, since I'll need it for this afternoon's jog. I saw my reflection as I stopped for gas, and I decided to text my mom about it with the final comment of "I'm turning into my mother!"

She wrote me back with, "That's nothing. I couldn't find my glasses. Guess what? They were on my head. I don't know WHO I'm turning into!"

How high, how steep?

If there's one thing my college campus does really, really well, it's incorporating the natural curves and hills of my region of California. To get to both of my classes, I have to hike up steep hills, or take the stairs up the same hills. I tend to take the ramps because I think they'll give me more exercise, which I need desperately. The ramp on the way to my math class is by the botany lab, and there are plants growing everywhere with little placards that state the name, genus, species and phylum of the plants/trees. There are these purple plants that smell heavenly, but no placard so boo botany lab. These ramps are actually really, really steep, and if I were in a wheelchair, I'd do some serious complaining because I don't see how someone could push themselves up those hills. Dang.

Anyway, I went hiking up last night, and I got to taste how out of shape you become after missing a scant week at the gym. I don't get it. It takes weeks, months, to build up your strength, and days to tear it down. I didn't even pretend like I was going to the gym last night because my cold has settled down into my chest which makes deep breathing rather difficult. Also, after a day at work, I feel like hell on toast. BUT, tonight I will be back in the gym. If I only manage 20 minutes, I won't get down on myself. I will celebrate the fact that I went and did it.

And then I might eat some veggie fajitas, con crema.

The Passholder Smugitude

On Saturday, my friend and I went to Disneyland in the evening specifically to see Fantasmic (or is it Phantasmic?). We, like a lot of people, got to the spot and set out our blanket. We sat down and talked and took turns shopping or getting food. We had snacks with us. Some lady came by and asked me what we were all waiting for. I told her. She asked when it started. I said 9:00. She looked at her watch and realized that what we were waiting for was four hours away. Naturally, she wanted to know if you really have to line up this early, and I shrugged and left it up to her. I mean, there's a reason we're all waitng here, you know? This couple was sitting on the other side of me. Apparently they thought what they were waiting for was coming soon, rather than just a few hours before the park closed. They asked if it was worth it. I tried to be as neutral as possible as I explained that, well, I live very close, and I have a season pass, so sitting around and waiting for a show is no big deal to me, but that if they are pressed for time, maybe it's something they can wait on until next time. I suggested the fireworks in front of the castle.

I'm thinking that next time I'm going to do what a lot of people did, and just leave my blanket on the ground and go off and do other stuff. I really wanted to ride Big Thunder because it's one of my favorites, and my friend really likes Indiana Jones the best. I was just worried that people would move our stuff around, but I have to say that no one really moved anyone's stuff or tried to steal territory. It's definitely a thought for next time.

After the show (SO not worth sitting on the ground for four hours, in my opinion), we went on Pirates because it was National Talk Like A Pirate day. As we were leaving, about 10:00 at night, this little kid behind us said that he was tired. My friend and I smiled at each other for a second because, yeah, even after sitting (and sometimes laying) on a blanket for four hours, we were tired. Then our mood turned sour when his mom shot back angrily with, "Well, you've been sitting in your stroller all day! I don't want to hear about it."

Happiest place on earth indeed.