A friend of mine has asked me to be maid of honor for her wedding, and I accepted. We had a nice, long chat and I asked her what color dress she's wearing.
She's always been a dark sort of person. She wrote a book where no one has more than one redeeming quality. Once, a group of our friends dressed up in dark robes, went to a cemetery and had pizza delivered, and after eating the pizza, we picked up the garbage until the police came to scare us off. She's decided that rather than having a proper "wedding night," she's going to invite the whole wedding party back to the suite, hang a "do not disturb" sign outside, and likely jump on the beds and play with the jacuzzi and make a lot of noise. (her fiancé has the same sort of personality. This is going to be a fun wedding) And she hates white.
So I fully expected her dress to be blood red or even black. So I was surprised when she said it was white. Apparently, her mom threw a fit when she said she wanted a black wedding dress. So they had a trade-off, she gets a themed wedding in a white dress for her mother's... non-bickeringness?
Whatever makes her happy, I guess.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Intelligent design
About once a day when I work in drive-thru, I get someone who almost drives pass my window, and probably would if I didn't holler "hello!" at them. Often then, they'll comment on the poor design of the drive-thru. I mean... heh, looks like I'm going to have to do some exposition.
There are three ways to enter the parking lot at my McDonald's. Two of them can get you to drive-thru easily, but one other makes you circle the building so you can order. Also, you can't see the window that I work at from very far down the line, because it's around a corner. Besides the window I often work at and the window where the food is handed out, there's another window. We have it covered by a curtain, but sometimes people still stop there and I'll have to hang out the window to wave them down.
The poor design of this McDonald's is not merely relegated to the exterior; it also has quite a bit of wasted space, not much storage, a grill that is too small of the volume of business we do, and my personal favorite, only one stall in the women's bathroom. In fairness, there's only one in the men's too, but they also have a urinal. It was built on a crawl space rather than a foundation, and there are cracks in the floor if you look closely. And, the dining room is too small. I say, jokingly, that this McDonald's is evidence that there is no such thing as intelligent design. And the owner agrees with me. He's having it torn down and rebuilt like a "normal" McDonald's.
Hey, Mr. Owner, be sure not to give the contract for designing this place to the same company that give you this shitty design in the first place, mmmkay?
Chances are, it'll still be closed when I graduate from boot camp. It'll make things nice and complicated when the Navy guys show up to interview my superiors and coworkers for my security clearance and find a building site. Heh. I might spend a month or two doing more shit jobs because they can't easily find people to interview.
There are three ways to enter the parking lot at my McDonald's. Two of them can get you to drive-thru easily, but one other makes you circle the building so you can order. Also, you can't see the window that I work at from very far down the line, because it's around a corner. Besides the window I often work at and the window where the food is handed out, there's another window. We have it covered by a curtain, but sometimes people still stop there and I'll have to hang out the window to wave them down.
The poor design of this McDonald's is not merely relegated to the exterior; it also has quite a bit of wasted space, not much storage, a grill that is too small of the volume of business we do, and my personal favorite, only one stall in the women's bathroom. In fairness, there's only one in the men's too, but they also have a urinal. It was built on a crawl space rather than a foundation, and there are cracks in the floor if you look closely. And, the dining room is too small. I say, jokingly, that this McDonald's is evidence that there is no such thing as intelligent design. And the owner agrees with me. He's having it torn down and rebuilt like a "normal" McDonald's.
Hey, Mr. Owner, be sure not to give the contract for designing this place to the same company that give you this shitty design in the first place, mmmkay?
Chances are, it'll still be closed when I graduate from boot camp. It'll make things nice and complicated when the Navy guys show up to interview my superiors and coworkers for my security clearance and find a building site. Heh. I might spend a month or two doing more shit jobs because they can't easily find people to interview.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Letter to mother
Dear mother,
So, you went through my stuff and found my birth control. I almost want to congratulate you, since this is the most you've found out about me since I was seven. Which, judging by your reaction, is about your age.
I'm not really angry. I'm too lazy to be angry. I expected you to break your promise sooner or later, because you've broken similar promises in the past. I had hoped that you wouldn't, but like Dr. Phil says, the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.
I guess I'm sad. I had hoped that you would actually talk to me. No, listen to me. I've done a lot of listening for you. It feels as though I've been your emotional garbage can, that you talk to me in order to get it off of you, rather than dealing with it. What's more, I want you to care about what I think and how I feel, since I've come to the conclusion that caring about thoughts and feelings is the hallmark of real love. I know you won't find that in your bible, so perhaps that doesn't mean anything to you.
I can remember times that you've shrieked at me to "grow up." Now that I am an adult, I find a sort of irony in it. I mean, you're throwing a fit because I'm not behaving like you think I should behave. I wonder what Grandma would think if she saw you like that. I think that you got to point in life where you decided that you didn't need to grow anymore, so you just stopped. Oh, certainly you have grown older, but you have consistently chosen not to learn from what happens.
I know, I know, you've been hurt. I have heard you tell the tale many times, relishing the hurt, the details, the pain. Mother, your pain does not make you special. Pain happens to everyone, and I could point out numerous examples of people who have been through the same traumas that you have, some even worse, and have come out of it to live successful lives, with a better sense of perspective. I imagine many more have taken your route, to blame the world, everyone around them, shove off the responsibility of growth on other people. It is the easy way. The coward's way.
Yes, I think you are an emotional coward. Accepting the past, then letting it go was the hardest thing I've done. But, it's given me an incredible freedom... a detachment from my pain. I can look at what has happened, and see oh, perhaps that's why it happened, and gain understanding. Yes someone did a horrible thing to you. Someone did a horrible thing to you 45 years ago. It's as though you are stuck at that age. Maybe you are, emotionally.
Then, you had kids. You had a responsibility to be supportive and caring and nurturing. But, you weren't; you aren't, just listen to yourself and the disparaging way you talk about most subjects that my siblings and I bring up. Anything uncomfortable gets a one-sentence treatment. The talk about sex went: "Sex is for marriage." The talk about birth control: "Some women just can't say no." There's no information in those statements, no caring, no love.
So, you've found my birth control. Rather than behaving like you care about me, you try to rip me to pieces. I can't tell you how sad it makes me feel when you behave like this. I wish you had some self-awareness, to listen to what you're saying and imagine how you'd feel if you were called a whore by your mother. I will obey you and your rules, in letter if not in spirit.
I think I've cried enough tears over this.
your daughter,
Tactical Grace
So, you went through my stuff and found my birth control. I almost want to congratulate you, since this is the most you've found out about me since I was seven. Which, judging by your reaction, is about your age.
I'm not really angry. I'm too lazy to be angry. I expected you to break your promise sooner or later, because you've broken similar promises in the past. I had hoped that you wouldn't, but like Dr. Phil says, the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.
I guess I'm sad. I had hoped that you would actually talk to me. No, listen to me. I've done a lot of listening for you. It feels as though I've been your emotional garbage can, that you talk to me in order to get it off of you, rather than dealing with it. What's more, I want you to care about what I think and how I feel, since I've come to the conclusion that caring about thoughts and feelings is the hallmark of real love. I know you won't find that in your bible, so perhaps that doesn't mean anything to you.
I can remember times that you've shrieked at me to "grow up." Now that I am an adult, I find a sort of irony in it. I mean, you're throwing a fit because I'm not behaving like you think I should behave. I wonder what Grandma would think if she saw you like that. I think that you got to point in life where you decided that you didn't need to grow anymore, so you just stopped. Oh, certainly you have grown older, but you have consistently chosen not to learn from what happens.
I know, I know, you've been hurt. I have heard you tell the tale many times, relishing the hurt, the details, the pain. Mother, your pain does not make you special. Pain happens to everyone, and I could point out numerous examples of people who have been through the same traumas that you have, some even worse, and have come out of it to live successful lives, with a better sense of perspective. I imagine many more have taken your route, to blame the world, everyone around them, shove off the responsibility of growth on other people. It is the easy way. The coward's way.
Yes, I think you are an emotional coward. Accepting the past, then letting it go was the hardest thing I've done. But, it's given me an incredible freedom... a detachment from my pain. I can look at what has happened, and see oh, perhaps that's why it happened, and gain understanding. Yes someone did a horrible thing to you. Someone did a horrible thing to you 45 years ago. It's as though you are stuck at that age. Maybe you are, emotionally.
Then, you had kids. You had a responsibility to be supportive and caring and nurturing. But, you weren't; you aren't, just listen to yourself and the disparaging way you talk about most subjects that my siblings and I bring up. Anything uncomfortable gets a one-sentence treatment. The talk about sex went: "Sex is for marriage." The talk about birth control: "Some women just can't say no." There's no information in those statements, no caring, no love.
So, you've found my birth control. Rather than behaving like you care about me, you try to rip me to pieces. I can't tell you how sad it makes me feel when you behave like this. I wish you had some self-awareness, to listen to what you're saying and imagine how you'd feel if you were called a whore by your mother. I will obey you and your rules, in letter if not in spirit.
I think I've cried enough tears over this.
your daughter,
Tactical Grace
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
[i] do something to [/i] support the troops
You know, I dislike the yellow ribbon magnets people have on their cars that say, "support our troops." I wonder what people [i]do[/i] to support our troops. Hey, I work in drive-thru! Let's ask people!
Most people say they have them on to support a relative who's in the military. Okei. What do you do to support this relative? The answer usually end up in the "uhhh..." department. Some of them do write and send care packages on a regular basis, but most, don't. To me, it seems that the magnet amounts to telling people if you happen to meet a service member, you won't spit on them. I imagine that it might be comforting to Vietnam vets, but on the whole, I think it's a wimpy position.
And it's not as if it's difficult to adopt a service member. You could head over to anysoldier.com, pick the last person who updated, and just write letters, tell jokes, that sort of thing. No obligation to send care packages or meet them at the airport. The cushiest job in Iraq doesn't compare with being home, and generally speaking, a letter that comes off as "It's rough out there, and maybe I can cheer you up a bit" is as good as a box full of hooah bars. Maybe better.
So if you have a bumpersticker on your car, spend the $0.37 and the time to actually support our troops. It's much more appreciated.
Most people say they have them on to support a relative who's in the military. Okei. What do you do to support this relative? The answer usually end up in the "uhhh..." department. Some of them do write and send care packages on a regular basis, but most, don't. To me, it seems that the magnet amounts to telling people if you happen to meet a service member, you won't spit on them. I imagine that it might be comforting to Vietnam vets, but on the whole, I think it's a wimpy position.
And it's not as if it's difficult to adopt a service member. You could head over to anysoldier.com, pick the last person who updated, and just write letters, tell jokes, that sort of thing. No obligation to send care packages or meet them at the airport. The cushiest job in Iraq doesn't compare with being home, and generally speaking, a letter that comes off as "It's rough out there, and maybe I can cheer you up a bit" is as good as a box full of hooah bars. Maybe better.
So if you have a bumpersticker on your car, spend the $0.37 and the time to actually support our troops. It's much more appreciated.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)