Archive for the 'Education' Category

Feb 05 2014

My brain hates me.

Published by under Education,The Man

I had to take a test tonight. It was a test for which I felt ill-prepared. I had woken up this morning with the knowledge that I had forgotten to do an entire section of homework, so instead of reviewing two chapters during The Boy’s nap, I would have to somehow do a section’s worth of homework (an hour) and then try to review the whole chapter (an hour) and then if I had time (not bloody likely) re-review the other chapter. And, since I’d gotten up late, I’d also have to cram a shower and hair/makeup time in there. It wasn’t looking good.

Fortunately, my husband is a wonderful man who has a plethora of sick time, so he came home way early and watched The Boy while I feverishly mathed it up. I was not feeling good about the section I hadn’t done. I did all the homework and it was only somewhat clicking. My 4-cylinder brain was missing every other stroke, and that’s not what you want when one mistake throws off your entire solution.

Eventually, I clawed my way into something like a groove, and started feeling…OK. Not like “I’m gonna ace this!” but more like “I will probably score a B or B-” which for some people is probably a great grade, but I have complexes, and for me, if it’s not an A I might as well just drop the class and give up because I am too dumb to go to college and should give my spot to someone else. Go mental health! (As a side note, this is the exact mindset for which I give my husband no end of grief, when he is in the throes of his own “I’m a miserable failure and don’t deserve higher education” angst-fits. Go hypocrisy!)

So, I went to class and took the test. And everything went pretty well. There were a few places where I had to erase all of my work and start over – and the amount of eraser dust that removing two equations full of the wrong work from your page produces is quite embarrassing – but overall, I felt good. I double-checked everything, running my solutions against the original questions and making sure they fit, and handed the test in.

As soon as I stepped into the hall, I froze. I leaned against the wall, just outside the door. My brain was hammering at me: “You forgot to do something. You forgot to do something.” I thought back over the test, and the things I had reviewed today. It seemed like there were some things that I’d reviewed that weren’t on the test. And not little things – whole sections. Were they there? Did I do them. I couldn’t remember. I literally could not remember what was on a test that I had just finished and had spent 45 minutes working.

I became convinced that I had skipped a page. I had no idea what the policy was on this, but even if my instructor wouldn’t let me work the skipped problems, I at least needed to know if I had skipped problems. I went back into the classroom and walked up to her and said “Hey, was there a back page? I’m pretty sure I skipped it.” She picked up a test – not mine – and turned it over to reveal a whole page of problems. I was like “oh no”. She smiled and said “Well, you weren’t going anywhere, anyway, right? Which one would you like to work on?” and she fanned the completed tests out. I kind of chuckled and said “I’ll work mine, if that’s OK,” and picked it up from the stack. I turned it over to see…

…a full page of completed work. WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I kind of dumbly handed the test back to her and she said “Did you do everything else?” She paged through it…all the work was done. She looked at me, and I said “I guess my brain is playing tricks on me”. She kind of laughed and said good night and I left again. And as soon as I left the classroom, my brain began insisting that something wasn’t right. That test was too easy! I had struggled all afternoon, and none of those problems had seemed very difficult. This was just plain failure waiting to happen.

However, there was nothing to do. I had turned in the test, I had double-checked my work, I had just seen the completed test with my very own eyes. And, what’s more, at the beginning of class I had gotten back a quiz that I knew I had totally screwed up, and lo and behold, my score was 9/10.

All I can do is wait for Monday and see my grade. And also try to figure out what the hell is wrong with my brain.

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Jul 23 2004

The Man fixed my Crest SpinBrush!

I just realized how much of a hypocrite I am.  Because I get all huffy and feel all let down when my favorite writers don’t update EVERY SINGLE DAY, yet, I haven’t updated EVERY SINGLE DAY in a couple of months now.  But that’s excusable.  You see?  It’s excusable because I don’t read my own journal for entertainment, and thus do not rely on my own words to keep myself amused.  If you had any doubt left that I am kind of self-centered, just re-read that last statement.


I also realized that most of my daily reads come from Diaryland, as opposed to my own home of Diary-X.  Because I have nothing better to do with my time, I tried to analyze why this would be, and I came to the conclusion that Diarylanders are better at pimping themselves out.  Diaryland is set up with banner ads, public “favorites” lists, and several portal communities that highlight good journals.  Diaryland is kind of like one big block party, and the D-Xers are more like the people who sit in their houses and bitch about the loud block party.  What a clunky analogy that was!  Anyway, regardless of this I will never move to Diaryland because A) I hate the color scheme at the site and B) it seems to have more problems than Diary-X.  When D-X is down, it is DOWN, and Stephen is generally right on the ball with things.  When Diaryland is messing up, it slows down, and then maybe pages won’t load on the first try, or the comments won’t work, or whatever.  It’s a very whiny service.  If it doesn’t feel loved, it acts out all passive-aggressively, so you think maybe your connection is the problem.  Also, Notify List (hiss) is run by the same guy who runs Diaryland, and I think we all know my feelings on Notify List.

Speaking of HORROR and DOOM (aka Notify List), I am already becoming disenfranchised with my new service of Coollist.  It seems they put advertisements at the bottoms of my e-mails, which I did not know about, and also that in order for you guys to get notifications, you have to join Coollist yourselves.  That seems dumb to me.  I’m thinking of just creating a distribution list off of my hosting service and adding everyone to that.  No ads.  No messing with a third-party.  Sweet and to the point.  Or maybe I’ll just get rid of my notify list dealie altogether.  It’s such a dilemma.  If you have an opinion, leave it in the comments.


I finally got my test results from the one test I’ve taken so far in my management class.  I managed to eke out an 82, which is good considering how little effort I’ve been putting into this class.

The other thing I got in the mail was an invitation to join my college’s honor society.  Because I made the mistake of pulling a 4.0 out of my ass, they want to reward me with MORE WORK.  I find this a little unjust.  Couldn’t they give me an all-expenses-paid semester or something instead of offering me more work as a reward?  I looked over the brochure which outlined requirements for honor society as well as some of the benefits that I could earn (scholarships, awards, etc.).  Turns out I have to take so many “honors” courses AND a required class called Honors Colloquy which apparently has to do with critical thinking.

First of all, NONE (and I mean none) of these honors courses apply to my degree.  I am going to school for management, why oh why would I take General Psych or something about Sex and Humanity?  Oh, yes, for the experience.  Well, let me enlighten those of you new to the show: I go to a small community college.  I chose this small college for several reasons:  1) it was cheap 2) it was close 3) it offered classes at a variety of times.  I know I am not getting the highest level of education possible, I know that this college cannot stand up to most other colleges/universities in terms of quality, but that doesn’t bother me.  I’m learning what I need to learn, and I can still work a full-time day job.  Most of the people who go to this college are there for the same reasons I am.  I appreciate the fact that my college is trying to enrich my education, but I did not choose this college to be enriched.  I chose it because it would get me what I needed with the least amount of fuss possible.  If they wanted to create honors classes in business, or ethics, or whatever, then I might be down with that.  But I am not going to delay my degree by taking classes I will never use just so I can join an honor society that will mean precisely dick after I graduate.


Lately I’ve become obsessed with M&Ms.  I make The Man buy me large bags of these things almost every other day, and I eat them while I study.  And while I read.  And while I watch TV.  I’ve been eating them while writing this entry.  It’s getting to the point where I’ll need an M&M IV-type line that will deposit M&Ms directly into my mouth so I don’t have to reach into the bag anymore.  Eventually I’ll get bored with them and move on to something worse.  Like chocolate-covered lard balls or something.  Chocolate-covered lard balls dipped in peanut butter!  With a thick coating of caramel!


I know some of you out there are rather fond of our current president.  You think he hangs the moon, is super-groovy, and a swell guy, and you’ve tried to convince me of these things many times.  Well, if you go read Marn’s latest entry, you will realize the biggest reason that I could never and will never vote for Bush:  he’s a crackpot.  Sorry folks.  Once a man says that God speaks through him, I generally back away slowly and don’t make eye contact anymore.

I can already see the huge amount of comments I am going to receive for that last paragraph!

I’m going to leave you now.  I took this picture this morning, and it looked nice and bright on my home monitor.  It’s kind of shady here at work, so I hope it’s coming through for you.

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Jul 19 2004

Nice day for a white wedding.

Published by under Education,Friends,Photos,The Fam,The Man

Another frantic weekend! Will the pace ever slacken??? One can only hope. See, this is why I am not overly social. I had two things to do this weekend and it seemed like I was busy, busy, busy. I can only imagine if I was one of those people who went out for breakfast, then to a luncheon, then had a baby shower, then went to dinner, then to the bar, and the next day had a wedding to attend. As it stands, I only had the baby shower and the wedding, and they were enough for me.


Saturday was Lucky’s wedding to Galleta. We left our house at about 9:15 and went to pick up D– and Vampyre Hunter D. 4 adults and one child packed into the Cavalier with a bunch of melathian in the trunk made for a noisy and smelly trip. We left the windows down because melathian smells like sewage that has been served over rotten boiled cabbage, so everyone was shouting over the rush of air.

Once we got there, I did my usual thing of floating around, lending a hand when needed. The wedding was at Dr. Mom’s home in the lower peninsula, and there was stuff still to be done. I helped set up chairs, mostly, but after awhile I ended up carrying Rowan around (she’s The Man’s 5 month old niece) so her mom could get ready for the wedding. Usually babies and small children don’t seem to like me, but Rowan was cool. She hung out and grabbed my necklace and ate her dress. After awhile I needed to change my shirt into something more lightweight, so I took her with me into the bathroom. And that’s when I discovered that 5 month old babies cannot sit up on their own. There was really nowhere to prop her safely where she couldn’t fall over and smack her noggin, so I got a blanket and put her on the floor. And because I didn’t want her to start screaming, I stood over her while I changed and made faces and talked in my “isn’t this exciting?” voice: “Hey Rowan! What are you doing on that floor? Are you having fun? Are you eating your dress? Look at that smile, gummy-mouth! Aren’t you just the cutest!” and so on, and so on. She didn’t cry, she actually laid there and giggled at me, probably because I was acting like a retard and she knew it.

Once everyone was dressed, and all the chairs and tables were set up, and everyone figured out what was happening, we had the wedding. Only about 20 people were invited to the ceremony itself, so everyone else who showed up early kind of milled around by the tents. The wedding was very nice, short, and informal. Galleta looked awesome, Lucky looked happy, and the wedding itself was fun, because it wasn’t too serious. I had to jump up while the processional was playing to break up a dog fight between Dr. Mom’s two Welsh Corgis and a Weinereimer owned by Rowan’s mom and dad. No one needed to try to ignore a dog fight during the wedding. Galleta put Lucky’s ring on the wrong hand, and the minister called Galleta by the wrong name once, but all these things were minor and the important thing is that the wedding took place and Galleta and Lucky looked terribly happy and pleased with themselves.

Afterwards, party time! The drinking started pretty much immediately both because it was hot and because we were there to party. The Man’s other brother (Rowan’s dad) and D– started to dig up the pig so we could eat (the main course was roasted pig, but it was buried in a pit). I once again played Hold-The-Child because Rowan’s older brother was Way Too Close to the pig pit – he wanted to see what was going on, but being only 2 years old, he was in danger of falling in the pit and/or being smacked with a shovelful of dirt so I picked him up and carted him around for another half-hour. Then he started to freak out so I found his mom.

The reception was nice, the food was good, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. It rained off and on starting at about 4 PM, but we were under big tents, so no harm done. However, I started crashing hard at about 4:30, and The Man, Chris, and D– weren’t in much better shape. We left around 5:30.


Sunday was a baby shower. A small baby shower, but a baby shower none the less. This one was hosted by my mother, so luckily that meant No Stupid Games, as mom’s tolerance for such things is lower than mine. We ate, opened gifts, and talked for awhile, and then everyone kind of filtered away, leaving only me, mom, my sister, and my grandma left. After the clean-up was over, we sat around the table and traded stories about our significant others. I left at about 6 PM, because I had laundry to do.


Laundry took way too long. Unfortunately, it was one of those deals where I had skipped laundry last week, so there was double the amount of dirty stuff to clean. I think I went to bed at around 12:30, and there was still a load in the dryer. Ugh. I didn’t get a lot of things done that I meant to get done this weekend, but lucky for me there are more weekends coming and the work will wait for awhile. Right now, I’d really just rather be done with my management class. I had to call my instructor today because I never got a grade for my first test, and I’m wondering if it was lost or something. Because this is a telecourse, I have to take my tests in the Testing Center, so I’m not real sure if my test ever made it to my instructor. If it’s lost, and I have to retake it, I’m going to be really, really, pissed off.

I’m tired of writing, but I will leave you with a picture. I took this one this morning, because I wanted to see just how long my hair really is. I see it in the mirror, but I am very much like Cher in Clueless – I don’t trust mirrors so I rely on Polaroids, or in my case, The World’s Worst Web CamTM. And the WWWC says: damn, girl, you have hippie-chick hair.

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Jul 01 2004

Meteors destroy the insane and unworthy.

Wedding Freak-Out Update #2:

We sent the deposit to the DJ, so we now own his little soul.  Well, at least on November 27 we own his little soul.  Bwa-ha-ha!

I just sent an e-mail to the photographer to ask for a contract so we can own his little soul too.  Strangely enough, the photographer is from my hometown (where we lived until March).  Didn’t even know there was a photographer in that town.  He doesn’t seem to have a studio or anything but maybe it’s tucked away somewhere.  Maybe he’s a crazy psycho who lures people into his “studio” and then kills them!  Guess it’s a good thing we’re not going to his studio.

Still need a florist and a cake baker.  I’m starting quite a collection of little souls.

I paid Stylin for the bridesmaids gifts.  Now he just has to pass the money on to his sister.  But that’s not my problem – I have discharged my debt.


For some unknown reason, I thought it would be a really good idea to have a party on July 4.  Usually, this would be No Big Deal, because our parties have typically consisted of 1) Burning things 2) Drinking things and 3) Grilling things.  But this party is starting at 2 PM and my parents and grandmother may be attending.  Plus I invited my cousin and Vicki.  Plus I thought that it would be nice if I baked some stuff and actually made some food instead of just having The Man throw meat on the grill.  You know, because some people might not want grilled meat.  Lucky for us our stove was finally delivered so I can actually bake the cake and the brownies and the what-ever-else I decide to make.  Because I have a sneaking suspicion that baking a cake on the grill is difficult.  I wonder if you can bake a cake in a Crock Pot?  I’ll have to look into that.

Maybe I’ll get a badminton set so people can play badminton.  And then the rest of us can laugh at those playing badminton.  Fun!

Anyway, I went to the grocery store last night to pick up the Cake Components and discovered that for some reason my local grocery does not sell whipping cream.  They don’t even sell Cool Whip.  All they sell is the stuff in a spray can.  And while Redi-Whip has its place, it’s hard to use it to cover one’s cake.  I’d rather use real whipped cream because I’ve never used it before and I’ve been itching to try out the whisk attachment on my electric mixer.  But I was foiled!  All they had was half-and-half.  Cartons and cartons of half-and-half.  So much half-and-half that I wondered if there was some strange cult of people in my new town that drank half-and-half instead of milk.  I’m still not sure, but I do know that apparently whipping cream is something that is verboten in the local grocery.  So I have to go to Big Evil Soulless Grocery Store to get it.  And I hate that place.  There are always very fat old ladies standing in the middle of the aisle talking to each other.  I don’t mind if you’re fat, and I don’t mind if you’re old, but if you’re fat AND old AND blocking an entire aisle because you’re gossiping, you’re likely to get rammed in your ass with my cart.


For some reason, when I was on my futile quest for whipping cream, I picked up some yogurt.  I haven’t had yogurt since I was a kid.  My mom used to make it.  MAKE YOGURT.  We were sooo down on the farm.  And if I remember correctly, it wasn’t flavored yogurt that she made either.  So I decide to try this blueberry yogurt, because if I like it then that is something healthy to eat for breakfast.

I ate it in the car on the way to work.  I liked it; it was okay.  But I have a question:  does anyone else put yogurt in their mouth, and think for the first few seconds “OK, that tastes pretty good…” and then right before you swallow it you start thinking “Why is it starting to taste like vomit?”  and then right after you swallow it you’re thinking “GOD!  Could that get any worse?”  But then you take another bite.

What’s up with that?  Yogurt has a funky aftertaste.  Must be all the bacteria or whatnot that goes into it.  I did figure out that I need to get the kind with more fruit in it, because the actual blueberries cut the vomitness down considerably when I was lucky enough to pick one up.


I am so ready for the Drummond Island vacation extravaganza.  I just cannot wait to pack all our shit in the car, drive for 10 hours, and take a car ferry to a beautiful island full of bears and beaches and water and other fun exciting things.  I cannot wait to get back out to the Maxton Plains.  To kayak on the flood project.  To sink the pontoon.  To eat fish that my stepdad and brother-in-law and fiance caught that morning.  To sit on a deck with my mother and smoke.  To get on a boat with my sister and find a new beach to explore.  I can’t wait to smoke cigars and drink rum around a fire while my very loud relatives play euchre.  I can’t wait to wake up in the morning and decide “Am I going in the boat?  Am I going to read a book?  Am I going kayaking?  Am I going to take the car into “town”?  Am I going to get eaten by a bear?”  The possibilities are endless!  Well, almost endless. . . none of the possibilities include: “Am I going to kill myself out of sheer boredom at 2:00 PM because I can’t stand being at work for one moment more?”


The Man and I have been talking about What Jas Wants To Be When She Grows Up.  He mentioned to me that if we are careful with money I could quit my current job at some point soon after the wedding and start learning about pet grooming.  I told him I’d think about it, and I have been, but I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t try to hang out here for a couple of years, until I’ve gotten my degree and until we’ve made most of the major renovations on the house.

But then the other day, one of my co-workers reminded me of a silly little anti-nepotism policy we have at this company, which basically states that once you get married to someone else in the company, one of you had better be working for a different director than the other.  Except in my office, we don’t have directors.  We have one VP (Faith), and we both work for her.  So maybe I’ll get shit-canned as a wedding present.  Wouldn’t that be kind of. . . funny?  I come back from the long holiday/wedding weekend, and am immediately escorted to Human Resources for my exit interview and told to pack up my crap.  “By the way, congratulations on your recent nuptuals.  Everyone was so happy that you and The Man finally got married.  Oh, I’m afraid that we’re going to have to ask you to relinquish your key card.”

I say “I” because The Man makes a hell of a lot more money than I do, so if one of us has to go, it’s got to be me.  And he is really comfortable at this company, whereas I am just ambivalent.  And I’m the one who wants to do something else, anyway.  If it comes down to it, I’ll bite the bullet and I won’t even feel screwed over.  It will be karma, sort of.  But if I had my choice, I think I’d stay here until I’m done with college.


I took my first test in my spring/summer class yesterday.  Just to refresh your memory, I’m taking Principles of Management.  And I find it very interesting how much information I’ve absorbed from working in a corporate climate for so long.  I can look through the practice test questions and mostly figure out which answer it’s supposed to be just because to me, it’s obvious.  I hoped that would help me out a bit on the test yesterday, since I’m having a problem retaining the information from the book, but I’m afraid that for about a quarter of the questions my answer was “Hmmmm. . . ” and then I had to pick the one that sounded familiar.  I just hope I got a B.  That’s all I want.  I have to pull a B in this class to get reimbursed for it.  I’m taking the fall semester off.  I have too much going on with the wedding and all.

And, to be perfectly honest, I need a semester off.  I hate school, and I need to take a break and recoup so that I can be okay to go on.  I really, really want to get a degree, any degree, and if I don’t give myself a break I’m probably going to say “fuck it” and continue to be uneducated.

I also should decide which management route I’m going.  Probably should go for the “Small Business Management”, since if the ol’ pet grooming thing works out, I’ll mostly be working in or owning small shops.  But it’s tempting to just do “General Management” and use my electives to fill out the curriculum with the small business stuff.  Maybe I should go talk to the academic counseling weasels again.

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Apr 30 2004

The Old Switcheroo!

My laptop here at work has become infected with some virus like stuff, so I had to turn in to IT for some cleansing. They’ve had it for about an hour and a half, and while that’s going on I can’t get any work done. I’m on a computer in one of the training rooms now, but all I can really get to is my e-mail and the internet. All my trainer-type programs are out of reach. Woe, woe, woe.


Using my unlooked-for free time at work, I took off and went to the new David’s Bridal here in town to schedule some appointments for the girls to get their dresses. After I did that, I started calling the girls to make sure that they would be able to make their appointments. It’s backwards, I know. I just hope that they can all make the dates I signed them up for and I don’t have to go back and reschedule everything. I don’t like scheduling. It will be interesting to get everyone together and see how they interact. Kind of like a strange social experiment. None of them really know each other very well. Well, except for my sister and my cousin. They know each other pretty well.

I also went looking for stuff to give them for bridesmaid’s presents. I’m thinking Life Gems. We just have to find a donor. I can think of a few people I wouldn’t mind melting down into a diamond.


I go to a little community college, so finals week is not as stressful for me as it might be for other folks, but it’s still tests. I took the Business Law one last night, and felt like I had wasted a lot of time studying. Most of the questions were pulled from one chapter. Tonight is my computer one, and that will be a big joke, if the rest of the tests are anything to go on. True/False and multiple choice.

It will be very nice to not have to drive out to school three times a week after this. I’m taking one class in the spring, and it’s an independent study type of deal where I do all of the work at home. I just hope that I stay motivated enough to actually DO the work.


The whole “let’s not smoke so much” effort has not been going very well. I still smoke about as much as I did before I decided I should start cutting down and/or quitting altogether. It’s stupid. Maybe I need to go away for two weeks to a spa where they will purify me of toxins and give me massages with heated rocks to take my mind of cigarettes. I’d probably come back addicted to heated rocks. Although that would be a considerably less expensive and health-risk habit than smoking. Sometimes I wonder why on earth I ever started smoking in the first place, and then I think back and remember: stress reduction. I was a pretty tightly wound kid, and smoking had a way of easing my mind. It kind of still does. Except now it also has a way of making my throat hurt and making it hard to breathe.

I’m telling you. Heated rocks, all the way.

All that was written yesterday (April 29), and I got too lazy and fed up with myself to post it. I love to write, and I love to record, but I hate looking at my old entries and reading the dreck that I post sometimes. I wish that I had big deep thoughts all the time to record, but the sad fact is that I do not. I write about what happens to me, and I try to put a humorous spin on it, because that’s what I do. I try to make people laugh. It’s a stupid identity that I’ve fallen into by default. I’ve tried a lot of different identities over the years, and this is the only one that sticks. The Somewhat Funny Girl. Who Sometimes Tries Way Too Hard. Some of my failed identities include:

  • The Alternative Religion Girl: For several years I had a deep interest in paganism. I celebrated every Sabbat (major holidays) and Esbat (full moons) and even managed to get a couple other people to practice with me. But try as I did, the whole thing started feeling false after awhile and I faced the fact that I didn’t Believe in it any more than I Believed in the religion that I had been raised to accept. I still am a staunch defender of pagans, though. I don’t let people talk shit about them in front of me.
  • The Depressed Goth: This worked pretty well in my teen years when I was depressed anyway, but eventually one either grows out of the teenage angst or becomes a very annoying adult. I grew out of it, for the most part. I still catch myself reacting to certain things as if I were still sixteen, but it’s something I try to put a lid on.
  • The Techie: Computers got boring after awhile and I didn’t care enough to learn a programming language. I still work in a techie industry, but I’m a bit distanced from the nuts and bolts of computers themselves.
  • The Drug Culture Chick: Two things are boring – smoking pot and and the video of Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”. Even when taken together, they still are boring. Sitting around an apartment where people have big, thick chemistry books – not for studying but for brewing homemade drugs – is vaguely unsettling. Watching the guy you’re dating do whippits for the 15 second high is also boring.

That’s all I can think of off the top of my head, but there are more out there somewhere. I’m sure I’m not unusual in this. Many people have tried to be something they’re not because they think it would be more interesting, or to fit in with a new group of people, or just because they don’t know who they really are. I wonder how many people it actually works for.Last night I was talking on the phone with my mother, discussing our jobs and what we would rather be doing, and she told me that her boss told her the other day that she was too sarcastic. I laughed out loud and told her that I had never heard her being sarcastic. Her response: “What are you, kidding? That’s all I am is sarcastic! I tease people constantly.” But really, she’s either never shown me this side or I’ve never noticed because she’s my mother. And then I thought about how weird it was that as I get older I’m finding more and more that my mom and I have in common. I guess girls really do end up becoming their mothers, or at least I am going to end up becoming mine. Not that that is a bad thing, since I happen to think my mother is a very cool person. But I spent so much time trying to be different from her, that it’s amusing to realize that all that time was wasted effort. I’ve ended up being very similar to her, and I respect her opinion so much that sometimes I am scared to talk about things with her because I’m afraid she’ll tell me that my ideas are unrealistic or irresponsible.

Why do I always end up talking about my mom?

OK, so I’m going to stop now, but before I do, I wanted to let anyone out there looking for a job know about a great opportunity I read about somewhere (on the Diary-X message boards?): Get paid to write fake love letters to people who don’t have girlfriends and wish they did!

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