Devestation and Reform

I've learned so much lately about life. These things just hit me like a ton of bricks, it seems.
First off, I can't even begin to explain the dynamics of my family because we'd be here for several hours, but I can say that the past's events left me with ill feelings toward my dad. Holding a grudge, they say, is harmful to the soul. But how can you forgive someone who doesn't even understand that they've hurt you? Like they filter out what they don't want to hear. What if that person is your father, and you can't just purge your life of him because he's bad for you. What's harder, in my case, is that all of this is unspoken. There is an elephant in the room, so to speak, every time we are in the same room. Neither of us speak of it.
But I've discovered an explanation for the way he is, and why he acts the way he does, and it is that he can't understand. He's not a cold-hearted person who can't see that he's pushing away the people that love him most in this world. He's simply incapable of making that connection. There are psychological labels for it, but I'm going to leave it at that. By coming to this realization, I am more willing to give him a chance. More willing to actually hang out with him. It's just kind of sad that that is all it will ever be. Hanging out. The role of a "father" is somewhat void in my life.
But that's where I let go of the past and look at what I have right now in the present moment. I have a Father that answers me. Like, seriously answers me. If you're turned off to this because it sounds cliche, I don't blame you, but know that I don't write hokey crap just because it sounds nice. I asked God to show me some things recently, and he immediantly gave me an answer that I could not attribute to anything but Him. I know that my healing, physically and emotionally, is going to only come from Him. I just have to learn that I can't control my own healing process. He's already planned it for me. Sucks for an uptight worrier like me, but I'm sure it won't suck for long.
I'll save some of the other things for another time. I'm supposed to be finishing an essay that is due in 45 minutes (that I've had all week to do). STUPID END OF THE SEMESTERR.


Cheers,
Dani

PS. What's new with all of you? Tell me about stuff.

To Infinite, and Beyond in 140 Characters Or Less

I believe sharing my latest triumph with you all is in order. I quit my job! It's quite liberating. I won't go into too much detail, but working on a register for 5+ hours can only hold my attention span for so long.
Now, it's time to focus on my freshman year of college, although I do have a job opportunity I'm waiting to hear from. But for now, I have time to enjoy life again. See, I am an 18-year-old trapped in the mind of a 32-year-old. I have the constant ominous feeling of responsibility lurking about me. Gotta plan for my future! Gotta save up money for my future! Gotta prevent sun damage and global warming for the future! Well, I say it's time to put the future in daycare and give myself some much needed mental TLC.  Que sera, sera, baby.

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Dropped quotes that amused me:


Today at work a little girl with curly brown pigtails came up to my register and said, "You're pretty!"
Me: "Aw, hehe, thank you! You're so cute!"
Pigtails: "Yeah, I know."

. . .

Saw Toy Story 3 with my boyfriend and my little sister. Her highness wouldn't let me sit by my boyfriend because she simply couldn't sit on the outside of us.

Me: Emily, can't TJ sit in the middle so we both can sit by him?
Emily: Noooo, I want to sit by both of you. And what if someone tried to attack us? Do you want them to attack me first?

She got me again with her flawless logic. Still, I'm a bit skeptical.

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By the by, I've jumped on the Twitter bandwagon, and with every new follower I become more addicted. It's like they've spiked my keyboard with Twitdrugs. Dear Lord help us all.



Good night, world.

Post-Graduation Stress Disorder

Where to begin??
This past week has been insane (yeah, I brought that back). Not only did I graduate last Friday and have had to work all week, but my great aunt and grandma came to visit us. And eat with us. And sleep in my bed. And make me play chauffeur. It was like Driving Miss Daisy and Mrs. Doubtfire. I love them both, but their idiosyncratic behaviors started to wear on me.

Aunt RoRo (Roselyn): Hey, what are ya doin' there, Danielle?
Me: I'm painting a picture. ::weak smile::
Aunt RoRo: Ohh, that's real nice. Good job.

[RoRo walks around the house a bit, then re-enters the room..]

Aunt RoRo (Roselyn): Hey, what are ya doin' there, Danielle?
Me: I'm...painting a picture. ::weaker smile::
Aunt RoRo: Ohh, that's real nice. Good job.

[...]

Aunt RoRo: Hey, what are ya doin' there, Danielle?
Me: I'm eating my weight in Popsicles and lolly pops so I can use the sticks and a glue gun to patch the hole in the ozone layer.
Aunt RoRo: Ohh..
Grandmother: [calls from other room] If you're making a mess, you better clean it up! And bring me one of them Popsicles...

Okay, so, the last part didn't happen. But it's what would have happened if I had responded that way the fifth time she asked.

My little sister, Emily, noticed a difference in the way my grandma pronounces the word "measure," and she called her out on it. This infuriated my grandma.

Grandma: Why does Emily think it's funny when I say "may-shuring cup"?
Me: I guess she just thinks it's funny because she's never heard it pronounced that way.
Grandma: What way? May-shuring cup. What's different about that? You say it.
Me: Um.. mez-juring cup?
Grandma: May-shuring cup. I don't hear any difference...

It was exhausting. Anyway, went to see the new Nightmare on Elm Street with my boyfriend. Of course I knew it was a ploy to get me to cling to him at the scary parts. I never watch scary movies unless I have someone to cling to. ;] Weird thing is, I've had reoccurring dreams this past week of being chased, and I'd wake up breathless. Scared my mom half-to-death. Oh, and my dad's first name is Fredrick.
Dun, dun, dun.. the plot thickens.

I'm sure there are a million other things I was going to post, but they aren't coming to mind right now. Maybe I should keep a list going so I will remember these things when I post. Hum.

DB

AP Test, Work, Charlie, and Mom

I took the AP English test (only the biggest test of my highschool career), and it slaughtered my very existence. Maybe I'm exagerrating; the multiple choice section was not hard at all, but the essays..yikes. Still, I'm pretty sure I passed and got the college hours for it.

Work was sooo crazy today! I got there at 7am and was supposed to get off at 3:30, but I had to stay until 4:30 (wahhh, poor me).

Your mission: greet customers as if your life depends on it. You are the crackhead that gets a buzz from customer service. Think you can handle it?

One of my supervisors (he's one of my favorites, and he's Egyptian. Way cool.) asked me to stand by the door and greet people as they walk in the door. After watching me timidly and passively tell shoppers "good morning," he decided to let me in on a little business success secret.
"Dani, the difference between Walmart¹ and Publix is dat at Publix, the employee wants to check you out. Can't wait to help you find what you need. At Walmart, dey don't make you feel welcome. So, when da customer come in, you gonna say, 'Heyyy, how ya doin'?' and 'You find everythin' okay? You like the hungry shark. Ya going in for da kill.'
Me: o.0

Charlie, my dog, is mental. He runs into walls, chases leaves, and gets his head stuck in cups. And yet, he is a really well-tempered dog. In fact, he's the nicest dog we've had.
Mom: "He is such a good dog. I hope we have him a long time before he dies of natural causes."
Ohhh, Mom.

Speaking of which, Happy Mother's Day (tomorrow!). Be sure to call your mother.

DB

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¹I've always wanted to try the balloon thing at work to freak out my coworkers. If I ever do, I'll be sure to tell about it on here.

Clowns and Toast

Most people are afraid of clowns. Not so with my great-grandma. She had an entire floor-to-ceiling shelf dedicated to clown figurines. Strangely, the twisted little porcelain clowns didn't scare me as a kid.
She had many different characters around her house. On her dresser in her bedroom sat three glassy figures of women. The first was tall and slender with short brown hair, and her rosy dress lengthened to her feet. The second was slightly shorter then the latter, but equally as slender. I gave them the persona of the evil step-sisters. Then, the blond beauty with a full floral dress, a blue laced-up bodice, and a white apron was Cinderella. Every single time Cinderella attended the ball, made the sisters jealous, and fell in love with the prince (who, consequently, was a clown).
Grandma made the best toast. No, really. I still can't get my toast to imitate that golden brown, buttery goodness. She used Italian bread that she bought from Barney's Bakery, not Wonder bread. And, oh. Her eggs were amazing. We would run over from my Nonna's (pronounced "nunna") house and ask Grandma for a "dippy egg". Nonna, my mom's mom, and my grandma lived next to each other for over 30 years. Italians never seem to go far from home. Anyway, a dippy egg is an egg cooked so that the white is fully cooked, but the yolk is runny. Then you "dip" your toast in the yolk and eat it. Tastes better than it sounds.
After breakfast we all went out on Grandma's porch. Across from her porch was an elevated patio attached to a stone garage. My oldest cousin and I used the patio as a stage from as far back as I can remember. In the middle of the stone wall of the garage was a small statue of the Virgin Mary. Well, my cousin Matthew accidentally hit poor Mary with a baseball one day. Grandma ran outside hollering and scolding, and a few days later Mary was surrounded by a miniature white fence, and she looked as if she had a bad nose job. Still, Mary sat faithfully in Grandma's backyard for years after.

To be continued...

Where I Went Wrong Raising My Mother

[my mom has always told me that she wants me to write a book about her. I told her I'd have to wait until she was gone. She didn't like that too much, so here's a tidbit of what I've already written.]

Mom, for as long as I can remember, has periodically changed her hobbies/interests. There was the knitting phase, the home improvement phase, the improve the home improvement phase, the gardening phase, the Pilates-guru phase, the scrapbooking phase, the can't-put-it-down novel phase -- the list goes on. She would pour her time and effort into becoming an aficionado of her pastimes. She can tell you the stories behind each photo, the best paint (and paint remover) for just about any project, the most difficult yarn to work with, and how each Christian author taught her something new about spirituality. With each little obsession Mom worked at it a fire and passion that almost made me want to try my hand at the various activities. I suppose that's where I get my love for trying new things.


I will be adding to this in upcoming posts. :]

Post-Easter Update

Hi ya guys,

I spent the past week in the north visiting my extended family for Easter, and I am happy to report that no punches were thrown, no one was left at a gas station, and my boyfriend still wants to date me even after meeting the rest of my big, fat, Italian family.

My aunt told me before the trip that she was going to give the boyfriend and me “the sex talk” (because we haven’t heard that one 50 billion times, #NotIntendedToBeAFactualStatement). Instead, we volunteered to take her kids mini-golfing and to watch them for a few hours, and I can honestly say our little play date had a better effect than any talk. We both agree we won’t be having kids for quite some time.

Dropped quote:
Little cousin, Aiden: "What's your name?"
Me: "You know my name. I've told you a billion times. I'm DANI. Or DANIELLE. Remember? I took you mini-golfing this afternoon."
Aiden: "Then...where is your blue shirt??"
Me: "I changed it"
Aiden: "Was it dirty?"
Me: "Um, yeah.. I had to put on a new shirt."
Aiden: "DID YOU POOP ON IT?!"

I mean, why else would you change your shirt, right??

For the entire 13+ hour drive up and back, my brother learned Japanese with Rosetta Stone on his lap top. He had a microphone so that he could practice the pronunciations too. My boyfriend says that to speaking Japanese sounds a lot like passing a kidney stone or being punched in the stomach. He also says that when people with thick southern accents talk all he hears is banjos.

The day before we left, my mom had surgery on her hand for carpal tunnel (so that she didn’t have to use up vacation days later for it). My mom can’t quite control what she says without being drugged, so imagine, if you will, my mother on pain killers. It’s 5:00 in the morning, and my mom is singing and making “jokes” until we convinced her to go back to sleep.


So, that’s my spiel about the trip. I’ll try to write more posts in the near future, but I’ll warn you, the ideas for posts I’ve got floating in my head are somewhat geared toward chicks (since I have significantly more authority in the female department). I am indubitably open to ideas from the guys. I need article ideas from the males about articles that are gender-neutral or that you would like to see written from the female perspective.

Much obliged,

Dani