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Friday, August 29, 2008

Fuck it , I'm getting a General Studies degree

It took me ten years to get a General Studies degree. I just knew that I wanted double major in Criminal Justice and Psychology-with a minor in Sociology. Why? I have no idea... because I find personality traits fascinating. even the crazy ones. I also thought that maybe I could help people, maybe be a parole officer or work in juvenile detention center. But there was always this niggling in the back of my mind...why don't you write?

Then I'd bring myself back to reality and tell myself I'd have a career in psychology...

I worked in a Prison for a little while. I was so bored and working with the psychologist out there was far scarier than the prisoners. I knew I'd be miserable, so my senior year (coincidently the semester after my father passed away) I changed my major to English. But by then I'd been in school so long I finally decided to say "Fuck it. I have enough credits to graduate..."

I might point out that I wrote all the time when I was younger, but I never wanted anyone to read it-so it'd burn it when I was done. Or tear it into little bitty bits and toss em. But not long before my dad passed away he happened to read something I'd written. "He said, "Wow, this is really good, Karin. Why are you wasting time with psychology?"

I've been writing this damn book for almost 10 years... I mean I was just playing around when I first started because I worked at the computer lab at the college and I was so incredibly bored or needed something to distract me from homework... so the first few attempts I don't really count but still... the first time I wrote it, it was in first person, then I changed to having a few more characters so I put it in third person, then I completely deleted the new characters... now I'm still stuck in the same damn place I always get stuck in, and last week I though, I wonder what would happen if i put this in first person. I go to critique group and the comment I get is "you need to narrow your point of views so that we get more of Alex." (which is true or I never would have thought what it would be like in first person.) So I'm rewriting... again.

My question is this.... Am I going to play around so long that I finally say "Fuck it... I've written enough." and just move on?

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Rules to go by when visiting your pharmacy

AKA: MANNERS

If you are on the state dime, I expect a "Please" and "Thank You" when I fill your prescription. Being rude to me while spending my tax dollars so you can pop out more children just makes your RX take longer to fill and your vicodin prices get higher.

You are free to talk on your cell phone. However, if you must do it in the store, please use a quiet voice. If you wish to talk on it loudly while I'm trying to consult you on your crotchfruit's medication, don't call me in 5 minutes asking stupid questions. Nothing makes me happier than to tell you "If you weren't talking on your cell phone, you would know this."

If you have small children, please watch them. I don't shit in your house, so I don't expect your children to tear shit apart in my store.

Our garbage cans are not for your dirty diapers.

Our outside ashtray is filled with sand so you can put out your cig. It is NOT a place for your child to play

The price I give you for Vicodin and Soma is the price I give you. I could give a rat's ass if the chain dow the street is 1$ cheaper.

Putting your infant carrier on the counter (with infant inside) and telling my clerks "Watch him while I get money (for vicodin and soma no less) out of the car. This is not what a "good mother" should do. You should know this by now;its your 5th. However, since you are only 22, I will just assume you're just dumb.

If you are going insult me, please use proper English. My English isn't the best, but its better than "you don't ax me where I got dis vicodin at."

Things of a personal nature should be spoken with me in private. Shouting at me "Why does my husbands high blood pressure medication make his pecker not work" from across the store is going to give you a totally silent pharmacy and black stares as my insides explode.

If you are going to proclaim anything about your husband's "pecker" please make sure your husband isn't standing right next to you.

If you are going to bullshit me, please use the same story on different pharmacists. We do compare notes, and we don't like to be told that your vicodin was stolen one day, and flushed down the toilet by your infant the next.

Shower. Please. For the sake of the world.

Let me repeat. Fucking shower with soap and water.

Call in the number of your vaginal cream tube. Don't show me how greasy you can get your label.

Brought to you by the angry pharmacist!

Thursday, August 7, 2008

I watch too many scary movies


I'm home alone and I just put the baby to bed. God bless him! I put him in the crib, read him a story, tell him goodnight and that I love him and close the door. Not a peep. I set up the laptop, because dammit 10-midnight is my time to write.

Oh wait but first I have to do the dishes-
While I do the dishes I marvel at the new plotting I have in mind, despite the fact that it means I'll have to start completely over... and my dog starts freaking out.....

First he's standing in the living room on guard and then he starts growling... my dog never growls...
At this point I'm thinking that he's seeing his own reflection in the TV, or at the very least reacting to the hum of the dishwasher. But then he starts barking...

I'm still passing this off as some kind crazy dog personality trait I'm unaware of...

But no, now he's guarding the living room and the hair on the back of his neck is raised. His tail is between his legs and when I stand up to walk in the other room he's walking perfectly in step with me in a way no amount of obedience training has ever taught him!

I'm in the office and he's still in that stance with the hair on the back of his neck pricked. He's crouched at my feet shaking, and then he hides under the desk. I might mention that he's also drooling... I've seen Cujo, people. I know what it means...

My unease is in no way compounded by the fact that just the other day around 5 in the morning or so my husband comes running in screaming at me to hold the dog and guard the baby because someone was in the backyard.

I don't know if there was or was not anyone in the backyard but the next day my husband bought motion detectors for the backyard.

Now I consider myself a pretty tough cookie. I mean shooting a 9mm gives me a thrill nothing (well almost nothing) can give me, but shooting at a paper silhouette is one thing. Shooting at a human being rushing at you with god knows what in mind is entirely different. (Is it bad that I close my eyes when I pull the trigger?)

And my Daddy (God rest him) taught me very well all the neat little pressure points to use to unnerve a fella, and if a guy ever whips it out, Dear old dad taught me just the trick to send him *crawling * away. I haven't had to fight in awhile, but I'm pretty sure it's like riding a bike. So I'm pretty confident that whether I come out unscathed or not, I'll come out a victor...

On the other hand, if it's a ghost: pray it's a friendly one.

And barring the other two possibilities: Pray my dog is NOT turning into Cujo!