Moon-lines and Apple-pathways

It's difficult keeping things under control at work, when I'm not there everyday. Wednesday has become this big black hole of suck that I spend the rest of the week making up for. Phone messages get lost, kids don't get work done, stuff gets misplaced. Bah!

(I am now putting this crazy work rant ( under a cut... )

Ok, now that's done! Time for a meme!

Let's call it: The Countdown Meme! (ooh, catchy!)

Day One: Ten things you want to do with your life.
Day Two: Nine things about yourself.
Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six important "life lessons" you hold true.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever).
Day Seven: Four things you want in a romantic partner.
Day Eight: Three of your favorite possessions.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life or yourself right now.
Day Ten: One confession.

( Day One: 10 Things You Want To Do With Your Life )

So, flist, how ya been?

My brain does many things well: sarcastic comments, fractions, and crossword puzzles being some of them. There are also things my brain just can't handle. For instance: chess. I cannot, for the life of me, play chess. Oh, I know the rules and how each piece moves, I'm not a drooling idiot: but when it comes to playing an actual game, I cannot capture even one of my opponent's pieces. Even when the computer is set to "Easy" or "Beginner."

You might say: "Oh, but Amy, you just need practice!" I don't think so. You see, not only am I terrible at chess: I can't handle CHECKERS. I might manage to scoop up a couple pieces my opponent sacrifices, but in the end I'm always crushed. And I've spent my life working with children and playing games with them. I have been well and truly beaten by a five year old. Somehow, no matter how hard I try to concentrate on the whole game and think one or two moves ahead, I end up setting myself up for one of those embarrassing plays where my opponent jumps six or seven of my checkers at once.

And yet I'm unbeatable at Connect Four.

Another thing my brain doesn't do so well? Directions.

It's not that I can't read a map. I am awesome at reading maps. It's not that I can't follow directions. I can follow directions! It's just when it comes to making a mental picture in my head of how roads link up and which go where and whatnot, I am HORRIBLE.

I've always maintained I'm much more a verbal than visual person. Yet, I can look at a map detailing a route for 20 seconds and remember it for the rest of the day. It's something to do with my spatial reasoning, I'm sure of it! Even if you asked me to give you directions from my house to my work (which I could drive in my sleep) I'd get half of it wrong. I'd remember the main highways and most of the exits, but the little turns and sidestreets I can't picture until I see them.

People ask questions like: "Is it the third exit?" or "Is it next to the Taco Bell?" and I have no idea, because I don't notice things unless I'm looking for them. I can visit a store a dozen times without ever noticing what it's next to. I might know there's a bank on the corner, but I probably couldn't tell you which one. How many houses from the corner is the student co-op I used to live in? *shrugs*

All of that explanation is leading up to this: there was an accident on my usual route to school this morning. I decided, instead of slogging through it, to go another way. Bad idea. Of course, I didn't know it was a bad idea. In my head I knew this one highway linked up with another.

What I did NOT know was that they linked up much further west than I needed to go. Since I thought I knew where I was going, and I'm used to not recognizing my surroundings, it took me FOREVER to realize I had gone out of my way. I called my mother so she could look up on a map where I was, and I was 25 minutes late to class.

No, I'm sorry: 25 minutes late TO MY EXAM.

It's not that big of a deal. I'm taking a makeup on Wednesday.

When I came home for lunch before work, my mother asked, "Weren't you anxious?"

I said, "No, I knew she would give me a makeup."

And she clarified, "No, about being lost: I get so anxious when I don't know where I am. Weren't you nervous?"

I thought about it. "Mmm...not really. I get lost all the time. I'm kinda used to it."

That's me in a nutshell, folks!

Today's post is brought to you by drunk!

Well, not exactly drunk, but certainly tipsy: which is surprising, since I've only had 2 (well, one and a half at this point) glasses of Tempranillo, and it usually takes a lot more than that to take me down. (I wasn't kidding when I said my favorite drink was red wine; YUM!)

First things first: I BE JAMMIN'! Behold! Raspberry and mixed berry jam:



Yesterday my mother and I went to pick apples and raspberries, and today I turned the raspberries into jam. I also bought strawberries and some frozen berries to make into mixed berry jam. Someday soon, the apples will be made into applesauce. (Although my mother has been stricken ill today, so it may have to be done without her help. Which reminds me...I should go check on her soon.)

( Still interested in this hot mess? Follow me! )

I've done research on the psychological phenomenon of memory, and the average age of a person's first verifiable memory is about 3.5 years, with about 90% of people dating their first memory to between 2.5 and 4.5 years.

The first memory I can independently date and verify comes one month before my 2nd birthday, when I was hospitalized over Christmas for asthma. I have a couple other memories that might or might not have occurred earlier, but I can independently verify the date I was in the hospital and the age I was at the time.

Here's what I remember:

• I remember the giant crib that I slept in while I was there. (When I retold this to my dad, he laughed and said, "Giant crib?" I then realized that the crib only seemed giant because I was so small, which is a very weird thing to realize in retrospect! At the time, it seemed massive.)
  
  
• I remember it being dark, and me still being awake, and looking out the bars of the crib. (According to my mother, I drove the nurses and the other parents on the ward crazy staying up all night talking and singing to myself. I couldn't sleep because of the steroids they gave me for my asthma.)
  
  
• Since it was Christmas, Santa came to visit us, and he gave me a plastic wind-up radio that played "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."
  

The parts I don't remember are coming home the day after Christmas, and my parents putting the presents under the tree and pretending that day was Christmas.

So, I'm curious: what is everyone else's earliest memory? Can you verify the age/date it took place? Have you always remembered the incident, or was the memory spurred by a story told to you by family? Do you have lots of memories before the age of four, or just a few?

And more lines of scientific inquiry: were you an early talker? Were you a talkative child in general? What were your favorite games to play when you were little: imaginative role-play? Active, physical play? Solitary activities? Building/modelling?

So today is turning out to be A Day of Frustration.

First, I keep getting phone calls from an unavailable number. When I picked up, a recording told me this was a message for "a cardholder" with information about lowering my interest rate. Please press "9" to speak to a live representative. I did so, and the woman asked, "Did you press '9' to lower your interest rate?" I said, "No, I pressed '9' to find out why you keep calling me" and then the call was disconnected.

I'm waiting on my financial aid refund, and I keep getting the runaround as to where it is and when it's coming. Business is slow and I don't have a lot of students at the moment, so I NEED THIS MONEY. I called three different offices on campus and got three different answers. The final result is that I have been assured the check is in the mail. Please, PLEASE let this be true!

Finally, my mother is driving me up a wall. After my brother told us he was getting married, she announced that "we" (me and her) were throwing his future wife a bridal shower. Right away, I told her this was not likely to happen, as she is a control freak who will expect to make all the decisions while I merely follow orders. She assured me that no, no it won't happen this way. She asked what I wanted to do, and I said I wanted to make the food.

Several times she's mentioned hiring a caterer, and several times I've assured her that no: I WANT TO MAKE THE FOOD. Today she insists I look at catering menus with her.

GAHHH!!!

You know what? I DO NOT CARE if she wants to go with a caterer! But I don't want to sit there and look through catering menus with her while she pretends to take my advice into account and then promptly ignores it and does whatever the hell she wants. I don't want to play that game! If she wants to make all the decisions herself, I don't care: HAVE AT IT! I just don't want the stress of coming up with suggestions she's just going to ignore anyway.

And now she's pouting like a child because I don't want to play her games. I am very, VERY tired of being the adult in our relationship.

ETA: I have taken a deep breath and made peace with The Mother. I have agreed to do/make the prizes and the decorations. She also suggested: "You can pick out the invitations; do you want to make them?" Me: "No, there's way too many people coming, that would be a huge pain in the neck." Mother: "They have these kits where you can design your own card and print out the information." Me: "Again, I think that's going to be too much work, especially since we don't have a printer that functions reliably." Mother: "You could just buy some blank invitations and decorate them..." Me: *has a massive coronary*

DEEP BREATHS!

• Writer's block is a bitch.
  
• My ass hurts. (The parking on campus sucks, and there is no finding a spot where I don't have a 15 minute uphill walk to class. I'm not really complaining about the walk, since I need the exercise, but the boots I was wearing have worked ass muscles that were not ready for the wakeup call they got.)
  
• The financial aid office is pissing me off. Any OTHER hoops I have to jump through to get my loan before you pile on ANOTHER late fee?
  
• I seem to have arranged a dinner party that features three happy couples, and ME! The single friend! (I hope to God my only single friend that lives in the area is going to be free that night.)
  
• Along those lines, I may have a date soon! (We're working out details.) His name is Jeremy, and he's in social work. (There are men in social work?! GET THE FUCK OUT!)
  
• I love how slow work is right now; I don't ever have more than three students at a time. It's GLORIOUS! My bosses are freaking out, though; that's not so good.
  
• I forgot my keys to the building and had to call my boss to let me in. *facepalm*
  
• Other than my keys, I keep feeling like I'm forgetting something, ALL THE TIME. I may be losing my mind. (Again.)
  

So, how are y'all???

I've decided to edit this entry rather than create a new one, because I just found a 30 Day Book Meme on rewindclunkplay's journal and...BOOKS! You guys know I have to do this, right?

( Enable me... )

My brother is getting married, this January we do believe, and my future sister-in-law has asked me to be a bridesmaid. I have mixed feelings about this, but she is a sweetheart and I'm touched that she asked, so of course I said yes. (The fact that my mother threatened me against saying "no" also had some influence.)

This is the color she has chosen for the dresses:



It really is a very pretty color, but it is going to look wretched on my pasty pale skin! Oh, how I can't wait to have framed photos of me looking like a chronically ill prom date plastered everywhere!

( Answer my 'Question of the Day' for internet bonus points )

I'm not really happy with the title of this poem, but then I'm never happy with titles. I used to be tempted to leave all of my poetry untitled, but then I read somewhere that "leaving your poems untitled is like leaving your children unnamed", and ever since I've done my best to put at least a crappy title on each one I write.

I called this one "obsessive-compulsive" because I have been diagnosed (among other things...) as "mildly obsessive-compulsive", and this poem pretty much describes my thought process.

( Poem behind the cut )

I started off the day in a bit of a grumpy mood. I took my mother in for her post-op appointment, and it was screwed up and was supposed to be in a completely different office and the lady behind the desk was annoying and I had to stop myself from "making a scene" and finally it got sorted and I was very polite and blah blah blah, then we had lunch at Olga's. (I've decided to adopt the storytelling style of the little kids I tutor; how's it working for me?)

So then I got to work (I tutor kids in math), and one of the students was there ten minutes early, and I don't let them in until 3:30 ON THE DOT. So he started pawing on the window and I had to "politely" remind him that he needed to wait five minutes until we were open, and PLEASE DO NOT PUT YOUR FINGERS ON THE GLASS! (I am getting tired of cleaning that window.)

And I had one of my "favorite" students. She's one of my real and truly favorites because she is very sweet and funny; she is one of my "favorites" because she is also ADHD and a drama queen. She had her whiny diva face on today, and was throwing a fit over the problems she had to do. So I had a little talk with her, and she said, "Yeah, but my pages are just really frustrating me today!" I told her that was Ok, but we were going to work on her managing her frustration. I told her everyone gets frustrated, and we just have to learn how to do deal with it.

She said, "You never get frustrated! I have NEVER seen you frustrated!" Oh, my darling; you, of all people, have most definitely seen me frustrated! But thanks for the awesome reminder of why I try to keep all that under wraps; it really pays off!

My motto for working with kids? "Never let'em see you sweat!"