Confessions of A Working Girl

I meant to write this on Wednesday, but I had a project due that night, and so got way busy finishing writing it…

Anyway, I bought a chocolate bar that was 85% cocoa. I’ve always read that chocolate with more cocoa in it–e.g. dark chocolate– is better for you.  But I didn’t expect it to be bitter. I took a bite and was immediately wide eyed. “This,” I thought “is chocolate?!”For the most part, the taste was a little foreign, that bitter taste. But it had hints of familiarity, like the taste of cocoa powder, and the tiny, tiny hints of sweetness that reminded me that it really was a chocolate bar. 

I thought that this is the perfect kind of chocolate to grab if you’re upset. One little bite, and you forget, for a moment, why you were upset because the taste is so shockingly bitter. It is better, in that way, then regular chocolate. If you’re upset and you eat regular chocolate, you eat a lot of it, and slowly feel a little better, but a little…fat…at the same time. With this chocolate, one, maybe two squares of the chocolate bar is plenty, and you can’t eat any more of it.

There is a confession mixed into my rambling about chocolate. But for the moment, I’m still a little…wary, I guess, and mad at myself…and so at the moment, the Chocolate Confession will be hidden for now, even though it is officially Confession number 4. 

On a brighter note,  I have chosen the play for the summer, and ordered it. The kids this year will be putting on the play “The Three Piggy Opera”. It is based off of the story of the three little pigs. The theme at the library this summer is “Go Green at your Library” so I was thinking of how to incorporate that into the play. Maybe the bricks that the brick seller sells are recycled library books?  

1 Comment » Dad:

May 1st, 2010 @ 7:19 am Try 60% You’ll like it better…They also have a 6% with chili peppers…

One more day and then the first week of classes will be over. Which is good, since I’m exhausted! It doesn’t help that, since coming back to school, I haven’t had a whole night’s sleep. For some reason, I’ve been waking up one or more times in the middle of the night. It’s really annoying, and I can’t figure out why!

Just from the first meeting with all the classes, I have the feeling that I will work harder this semester than any semester so far. My schedule is like so:

Monday: classes from 10-1 workstudy 3-8

Tuesday: class 11-12:15 workstudy 2-4

Wednesday: classes 10-1 workstudy 2-4 class 7-9:30

Thursday: class 11-12:15 school newspaper meeting 12:30-1:00 class 6:30-?

Friday: classes 10-1 workstudy 2-6

Well, the workstudy on Tuesdays and Wednesdays is slightly longer than I said due to travel time. And between all this I need to schedule in field experience for criminal justice. It’s possible that I’ll try to do some of my field experience during February and/or April vacation. I suppose if it really gets hard I could cut back on workstudy hours. But I don’t want to…since I’m going abroad next year, I need money! And as much as my parents may want to help, I know for a fact that they cannot afford to. As it is, they’ve already done more than enough by letting me pay them back for car insurance when I’m able instead of demanding the money every month.

The only other school news I have at the moment is that I found out that I spent $80 on the wrong book! When I’d emailed the teacher for that class at the end of next semester, she had told me the name of one book (the one I bought for $80) but when we got the syllabus the first day of class, a totally different book was listed! The teacher must have gotten confused. Ah well. I found the correct book for $15. I’m going to keep the other book because it is a class that I’m going to take in two years. I’m pretty sure that I’m going to take the class anyway. Hopefully they’ll use the same book. If not, I will at least have gained another valuable resource for information on criminal justice.

Today, my dad called. Apparently my Grandpa M is in the hospital! I was stunned. According to my dad, it started when my grandpa fell down on Christmas. Everyone thought it was nothing. But recently I guess there’ve been problems, so yesterday my dad drove over to my grandparents house so that my grandfather could go to a doctor’s appointment. The doctor sent him immediately to the emergency room. It turns out there was some bleeding in his brain…and he needs some colon thing…colonoscopy?  And his blood count was too low–low by like half!

So obviously they kept him in the hospital. They gave him more blood and he seemed to perk up. When my dad and grandma left him last night, he seemed fine. But then today, when they went to the hospital again, my grandpa didn’t seem to know where he is. He seems to think that he’s at a friend’s house….and he yelled at my dad and my Aunt M (my dad’s sister)  about leaving him without his pants and his wallet. I don’t know about the wallet, but my dad said that his pants were in the room, on the window seat. My dad said that being with my grandpa today was like being in the twilight zone. Apparently, my grandfather alternated between that confused anger, and trips down memory lane.

I was told that he’s going to have the colon-whatsis operation tomorrow, and he should be fine and out of the hospital by monday. The hospital people don’t seem concerned with his confusion, they think its ICU-itis, or something like that.

About now is the time that I slightly regret going to a school so far away from my family. Although, in this case, there’s nothing I could do, even if I was there. My Grandma seems to be taking this at least semi-calmly. When I called her, she was of the opinion that they’ll fix up my grandpa and he’ll be fine in no time.

So between classes, workstudy and scheduling field experience, I’ll be praying….

…oh, and I have Girl Scouts on Saturday.

1 Comment » Mrs. A.:

January 23rd, 2010 @ 10:11 am Your grandfather is in our prayers. Keep us updated about his status. Eat any Girl Scout cookies lately?

Tonight, after dinner and presents, my dad and I brought my nana back to the nursing home type place where she now lives. It’s kind of sad to think that she’s getting old…but I’m afraid that it’s pretty obvious. My other set of grandparents, while older than my nana, are a lot more active, and don’t seem quite as old…even though, at this point, I think my grandfather is 86!

On the drive back, my dad and I were talking about it, and I remembered reading somewhere that older people often fare better if their significant other is also still around. My dad’s parents (my grandparents) are still both alive. But out of my mom’s parents, at this point, there’s only my nana. Her husband, my grandfather (let’s call him Grandpa J) died…wow, close to nine years ago!

It was 2001, and I was in the fifth grade. At the time (and up until tonight, in fact) all I knew was that I came home from school one day…June 14, and saw that my parents had odd expressions on their faces. They didn’t tell us what had happened until the three of us that went to school had all come home. (For my family: I was 11, Jin was 9, Ido was 8, I think,  Yoi was 7, Kana was almost 4 and Tomo was one and a half.) Well maybe there were four of us in school then…but I remember that mom gathered all three of us into her arms and said that Grandpa J had died. I couldn’t say what my brothers felt…all I remember feeling was, at first, total shock. That shock lasted until after we had gone to pick Yoi and Kana from a “playdate” at a friend’s house. We walked into their yard and Ido announced “Grandpa’s dead.” But he didn’t say it very loudly, so I’m not quite sure who besides me heard that statement.

My understanding of Grandpa J’s death then, was that he’d had a heart attack and died. It was his second heart attack–he had had one a few months before I had been born, and the doctors had told him that he had only maybe a year to live. He had outlived their estimate by about a decade…then the second heart attack was too much.  I’d always known that the heart attacks had probably been brought on by the fact that, at one point, Grandpa J had been a heavy smoker. But before I was born, he had quit, cold turkey. I remember being proud of the fact that he was one of the few people that could suddenly quit one day and never look back.

Tonight, my dad mentioned some new information. Grandpa J had been sick for at least a week before he had his heart attack. I had never known that. I had thought that the attack had happened suddenly, coming from no where. But no. It seems he had been sick…and if he had lived, it would have most likely only been for another couple of months and those months would have been pain filled. I also hadn’t known that on the very day he died, he was supposed to go in for tests to see if he had cancer or something. While interesting, and most definitely information that I want to know, it changes nothing–none of my memories, that is.

After Grandpa J died, almost the next week! One of my cousins got married. They had decided not to call the wedding off, because, at that point, it was best to just go on. They probably regret that he was not able to be there. I have regrets about Grandpa J too. I regret that he wasn’t able to see me go into 6th grade, which, by all accounts, was his favorite grade (he was a former teacher) I also regret not being able to ask him about 9/11. I wonder what he would think, since he was in the navy in World War II. I regret that I was only able to know him for such a short time. I regret that he never got to meet Dori, who wasn’t born until almost a year after his death. More than the regrets though, I try to focus on the memories.

I remember one time, after school, Grandpa J was babysitting Jin and me. He made us toast for snack. I wanted more, but when he went to make more, he decided that the toast hadn’t been dark enough to begin with. So he turned it up a little. And my mom had left papers on top of the toaster. The papers went up in flames. I remember Grandpa J stomping on those papers that he had pulled to the floor. He had also pulled the–now black–toast from the toaster and put it into the sink. Once the flames on the papers–and in the sink–were out, I went over to the sink and looked in at the toast. And Grandpa J asked something along the lines of “Do you still want it?”

One thing that was a direct result of that is that ever since then, we have had a fire extinguisher in our kitchen.

I remember another time, Jin and I were in the backseat and Grandpa J and Nana were driving us to their house, after Grandpa J had run into the store to get a snack–which we weren’t allowed to see yet. I remember that Grandpa J told us that if we guessed what the snack was, we couldn’t have any. But Jin guessed–ice cream sandwhiches–and he was allowed to have some anyway.

The thing I remember the most, was that Grandpa J was always threatening us with knuckle sandwiches. When we said something a little odd, or a little rude, he’d always make a fist and tease “Do you want a knuckle sandwich?”  But if we were more than a little rude, or if we outright would not listen, he’d get stern, and we would know that if we did not start listening, we would get in trouble. And he was stern in a different way than mom and dad were.

I remember one time, Nana, Grandpa J and I went to IHOP. I think what I did was something as little as not wanting to put my coat on as I got out of the car before we went into the building. But I think Nana had told me to. When I didn’t, she kind of shrugged it off, and started to go into the building. But Grandpa J got stern and gave me a little bit of a talking to. I don’t remember anything of what he said, but I remember that when he was done, I felt bad about not listening.

(Maybe that’s where my dad gets it–my dad too is very good at making you feel bad–bad here being partially defined as “guilty” when you don’t listen or don’t try hard enough)

I have other memories of Grandpa J, but these are the most defined, the clearest. The others are much blurrier, and I don’t remember nearly as many details.

A while after Grandpa J died, I dreamed that I was in his and Nana’s house. Everyone was bustling around, getting ready for some holiday celebration or something, moving food from the kitchen to the dining room. Grandpa J ‘appeared’ and stepped forward. “Don’t cry” he told me–so of course I suddenly was. Or had I been crying to begin with? That part is no longer clear…what is clear is the memory of being surprised at hearing his voice again, even though I think the only words he said to me then were the two–”Don’t cry.”

And then…I wrote a poem. I mixed the timeline about the dream, but I feel that the poem does justice to the attempt to describe a now gone loved one:

Once a night long ago,

I dreamed of you; tell me why?

How was I to know

the next day you would die?

I know you’re safe in heaven

but I can’t help but miss

the way you used to talk,

the way you used to walk,

the way you would threaten with a “knuckle sandwhich”

There’s no one quite like you

and I know there’ll never be

But I can’t help but miss

the way you used to 

talk

and laugh

with me.

 Looking back now, I think that’s a pretty good poem. I know there are probably better poems out there written by better poets…but hey, those poets didn’t know my Grandpa J. Besides, I was eleven years old when I wrote that poem…maybe twelve.

So I suppose, on this Christmas Day Eve, what I want to say is remember the people you’ve lost. Remember, even if it hurts a little, the people that you’ve shared this holiday with in the past. They still love you as much as you love them. And I bet they think of us just as often as we think of them.

And remember the people you spend the holiday with now. Don’t waste that time…every moment is precious.

Note in response to dad’s comment: I like my spelling better!

1 Comment » Dad:

December 28th, 2009 @ 5:13 pm It is a pretty good poem, except for the fact you spelled sandwich wrong…

(Am I really only at confession 2?)

Confession #2: Being an adult is hard.

When you’re little, you never really think about it. Your parents–and every other adult you know—is all powerful, and they can do everything. As you start getting older, you realize that they can’t do everything, but that’s ok. Then, once you’re on your own (or at least, away from home, at college), you realize, hey. Being an adult is hard.

At the moment, several things that are plaguing me have brought me to this conclusion. Let me list them…

1. Money troubles.

Nobody has enough money, but usually we can manage to get by. Growing up, I watched my  parents struggle for money sometimes (the fact that there are 7 of us kids doesn’t help.) So I wanted to become money conscious, so I wouldn’t have to worry. That so did not work. At the moment, I owe several thousand dollars in loans because of school, I will owe more than that once I’ve finished with school. That’s part one. Part two is that I owe my parents almost $700 in car insurance money. Part three is that I currently have a balance on my credit card. And the amount in my bank account? Roughly, about $300. Conclusion: Handling money is hard.

2. Insurance

When I turned 19, the insurance that I had kicked me off. When my dad lost his job, the other insurance I had disappeared. Insurance-less, I had to find a new insurance; because I was over 18, they wouldn’t let my mom do any of it for me.  At the moment, I’m finally covered under one insurance—at least, I think I am. And if I am, it’s going to be a total problem because it doesn’t sound like my doctor or my allergist take that insurance. Which brings me to

3. Doctors

I’m probably being all whiny and stuff when I say that I don’t want to change doctors. But I really really really don’t. Among other reasons, this is the doctor that I’ve had ever since before I was born. And now because of a stupid insurance issue I have to change? …I suppose I would have had to change doctors sooner or later anyway, since this particular doctor is a pediatrician, but still. I’ve been going there for 19 years! That’s a long time…especially since that time is my whole entire life!

Overall conclusion: being an adult is tough. Not just hard, but tough, difficult, sometimes nearly impossible! Everyone else manages, so I suppose I will as well…

…eventually. For the moment I am panic-stricken running around trying to figure out what the hell happened that is suddenly making my life so difficult.  what the heck I can do fix all of my current problems.

Since nothing immediately comes to mind, I probably need to think about it some more.  And possibly clean my room, dig my car out of the snow, watch Columbo. Oh, speaking of cars…Diby has officially been sold. T_T Now, I think that Coche is officially my car–that’s the car that was my dad’s.

1 Comment » Alexis:

December 21st, 2009 @ 1:14 pm Being an adult sucks, like totally. But whoever you are, I love your writing style. Totally should be an author or something. Good luck with the money troubles and the insurance.

Ok, I admit, the essay should have been done before now, since it’s due in…thirteen hours. But as usual I left it to last minute…

Arra, Sai and I agreed that we’d meet at 6 for dinner. Usually, Tuesday nights, we eat, then play pool, then I go to tai kwon do. Today, Arra and I ate dinner, and wondered where Sai was. She came in just as we had finished. One of her eyes was red, and she said that she wanted me to drive her to the hospital.

Her vision was blurry, she said, and it felt like there was something in her eye. The school nurse had suggested that she go to the hospital, and as she couldn’t drive with her vision blurry…

I’d never been to this hospital before, and neither had Sai. We had to follow the little blue signs with the H and the –> on them. When we got there, it took a few minutes to figure out which entrance to use…then we were told that where we needed to go was the Emergency Room, all the way on the other side of the building!

We went there, Sai signed in, and we sat down. I noticed that the time then was about 6:45. On the tv was playing the christmas carol where Scrooge McDuck plays Scrooge. At 7:30, a nurse called Sai.

On the tv, next came a Winnie-the-Pooh Christmas episode.  Sai came back. The nurse didn’t call her again until….eight something, I think, in the middle of ‘The year without Santa Claus.’ Then on tv was the so called sequel to the year without santa claus.The animation was different, and the voices were different. I liked that they put the Heat Miser/Snow Miser song in again, but that was about it.

Sai came out, ready to leave, at 9:45. Her eye felt better, and the doctor had given her a tiny tube of creme or something to put on it. We got back to the school around…10:20ish, I think. I sat with Sai while she ate her dinner, then came back to my room. Vivian was just getting ready to go to sleep (she has an 8 o clock class tomorrow) so I came out to the suite to write that essay.

My computer has 75% power left, so I better get going. Later, I’ll write about the conversation I had with the woman who was in the emergency room because her 6 year old daughter had a cough and a 104 degree fever.

My 12 o clock class was canceled today. Which in some ways is a pain, since I still have 1 and 2 o clock classes. So I’m sitting here and I’m bored. I don’t really want to start something, because then I’ll be annoyed that I don’t have enough time to finish.

There’s really no excuse for being bored since I probably have a lot to do…including an essay that’s due on Wednesday…but boredom is not ‘not having anything to do’. Boredom is ‘not feeling like doing anything that you could do.’

Anyway…the Touchstones teacher decided that we’re going to read Hamlet next. I read Hamlet in…uh…10th grade, I think. But my copy of it is at my house, not here at school. I didn’t want to buy another copy since I already have one, possibly two. (I got Oliver Twist though, I didn’t have that yet. And it was a copy from 1941! )I was going to check the school library for it, and I probably still will, but Vivian has a copy. And she has threatened that if anything happens to that copy…

First, let me say that this is not (entirely) about the people who run the country. It is more about the first people in the title, the people that are in charge of the visitor’s center.

My dad has worked at the Route 25 visitor’s center in Massachusetts for over ten years. Today, today! They told him that the visitor’s center will be closed as of Saturday night, October 31st. They gave him two days notice. Two! Isn’t the law two weeks or something like that? If there’s not a law about there being two weeks notice for firing someone there should be. And everyone that my dad talked to today is startled and appalled by the fact that the visitor’s center is closing.

My dad pointed out that the members of the chamber also have a right to be mad, since they are paying the chamber money to distribute their brochures for a year. 12 months. And now, that same amount of money will be paying for maybe 6 months…and that’s only if they do open again in April like they told my dad.

I’m a little mad because I have a summer job there. But I’m mostly mad on my dad’s behalf. He’s been the manager of that visitor’s center for most of the ten years that he’s been there. And yet today, when his boss was laying him off, she had with her the person that they hired a little over a year ago.

Maybe I had better back up and explain a little. The Route 25 Visitor’s Center is owned by Mass Highway, but is staffed by the Cape Cod Chamber of Commerce. Or at this point, it was staffed by the Chamber. In any case, the Chamber is always complaining about money. So last winter, they decided to single staff the visitor’s center. The visitor’s center is in the middle of a freaking highway. How safe is it to single staff? Especially when the visitor’s center gets…oh I don’t know, at minimum 200,000 visitors a year? (Usually there’s more than that, but when doing the math I picked the lowest numbers possible to illustrate my point.)

Anyway, so a little while before they decided to single staff during the winter, the new girl was hired. Let’s call her Susan. Her job was to be my dad’s boss, but she had no power. So basically, what would happen is that my dad would have to ask her permission for something, then Susan would have to ask her boss, the chief executive officer, whether or not my dad could do something so simple as buy more coffee. (We sell sold coffee to the visitors–good New England Coffee) So basically, Susan didn’t really do anything. I’ll admit, there is the slight possibility that she does more good where me and my dad do not hear of it.

Susan, by the way, is the person that was with the boss when my dad was getting layed off. God, that sounds horrid. Oh, and what my dad considered the best part? Apparently, while firing him, the boss invited my dad to the Chamber Christmas Party. Wasn’t that just so nice of them? Not! Sheesh, what the heck were they thinking?!

Now that I’ve worked off some of my aggravation, back to my worries (or rather, on to my worries since I don’t think I mentioned them yet)… my health care was already messed up since I’d turned 19…now that my dad won’t have a job, he said that that effects me more. That’s the only thing that I’m worried about that concerns me. Well, that’s not quite true. I want to go abroad next year, but the way things are, I may have to think about it. If my family’s situation does not change, then I’d spend the whole time in Europe worrying. So I’m also worried that I’ll have to cancel, or postpone my trip.

The rest of my worries are for my parents and siblings. Jin and I are both away at college, so that’s a stress on my parents. But even more stressful I think, is that they still have 5 mouths to feed beside their own. I know that money was getting tight even as my dad worked as much as he could (I do have two brothers in high school after all–they eat a lot!) So I worry about what it will be like now, if he’s not working.

And that’s another problem in and of itself–there are practically no jobs. I can’t even find a workstudy job on the campus of my college!   If this does not change, I may have to do the dreaded phone-a-thon again. I hated that job, I hate it! But especially if my dad can’t find a job, I’ll take it. I’ll hate it the whole time I’m doing it, but if they offer, I may take it.  If, of course, is the big question, since I doubt that they are unlike the rest of the campus and not inundated with job applications.

So I’m worrying about my parents, all 6 of my siblings, the car payments, the school loans, can I find a job? can my dad find a job?…I know I’m not the only one who’s been worrying about this stuff, especially recently. But it is different for each person. My heart goes out to all the people in my situation, and all the people who are worse off. Because on the whole, at the moment, I’m still very lucky.

As I’ve mentioned before, my roommate Vivien and I get along pretty well. But every so often it seems like she’s mad at me. I don’t know if that’s true, or not, but… Take today for example. I had music on when she came into the room. I went to go fill the ice cube tray (the fridge she brought has an actual working freezer! Yay! Frozen grapes! ^_^ ) and I come back and she’s putting on her headphones. I said “Oh, sorry is my music bothering you?” If it was, I would have turned it off (I forgot my headphones at home, silly me) She mumbled something I didn’t quite catch. It sounded sorta like “I don’t want to listen to that right now.” Perhaps she’s not really angry in situations like that, but it really does seem it a little. In a way, its weird. One minute we’ll be getting along, the next it’ll seem like angry silence. Maybe I’m reading into it too much. 

 Anyway, one of the songs that popped on from my playlist was ‘Someone in a tree’ from Stephen Sondheim’s Pacific Overtures. The theme of the song is interesting. Instead of saying that the main part is the event, in that song it says that the main points are the little things. The song says (and this is a direct quote) “It’s the pebble not the stream, It’s the ripple, not the sea. Not the building but the beam, Not the garden but the stone, Not the treaty house but someone in a tree.” My dad and I both think that its a neat idea. The idea that its not the main event that causes things to happen, but the small things. Also, at one point in the song, the person in the tree says something about “If I weren’t whose to say things would happen just this way?” I like that view point.

I’m so confused. I missed my friends terribly all summer. And yet, today I decided not to see them. I could have met them for dinner, and walked to a local farmer’s market with them, but I was like “Nah, I have a paper to write.” A paper, I might point out, that I don’t know when is due, and is probably not due till tomorrow at least. It is true that I have other homework, but that isn’t due till next week.

So I’m confused with myself. Why does it seem that I get close to people a bit, then start to push them away again? And I generally don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s done. It’s sort of unconscious then, the pushing people away. It is true that I have to make a little bit of an effort to talk to strangers, but I manage! When I need to, I can interrupt random people and ask them what they thought of convocation.

See, I work for the school paper–which I like to do–and I was supposed to cover convocation. I mean, I did! But I only got two quotes. One from a random girl I asked and one from  Vivien. I may be able to get one from my friend (one of the ones I pushed away slightly today) because she went to convocation.

Listening to the music outside, I sorta wish that I had gone with my friends. But I can’t quite convince myself to call them. Or to go down and listen to the music. One semester of psychology makes me diagnose myself as “being afraid of rejection”. But if that’s so and I know it, shouldn’t that mean that I’d work harder at it? Or…

I hate being emotional. I sit here, doubting myself, and it’s almost getting to where I can’t stand it. I know, I know, it should be easy to fix. After all, they’re my emotions right? I should be able to do something about them. But what no one seems to understand, is that I really do try to. But somehow…the emotions all twist up and then I’m lost in them, not having a clue as to what I actually feel–and of course, no idea how to deal with them.

It brings to mind the time a few years ago when I went to see a psychologist. She was not a very good one, in my opinion. Maybe what she did worked for other people, but not for me. I mean, first of all, I felt like I couldn’t tell her anything! I’ve written more in this online journal here than I’d ever told her. And, I still have a bunch of my stuffed animals from when I was little. And she was just like “Throw them out. You’re too old for that kind of stuff.”o.O My parents weren’t very happy with that either.

But anyways, what I was reminded of was that every time I came in, she’d ask me what I was feeling. And I had to look at the chart on the wall and pinpoint the exact emotions I was feeling. It was really hard, and most of the time, I missed a few. But sometimes, I wouldn’t be feeling anything. I mean, I’d be there, well aware of everything that was happening, but I wasn’t feeling anything. In a way, just like white is the absence of color, what I feel then, what I call the “blank” feeling, is the absence of emotion. The psychologist claimed that there was no such thing as the absence of emotion, that I could not possibly be feeling “blank” or “no emotion.” Considering that she seemed to be wrong about other things, I wonder if she was wrong about that as well? And if she was…why exactly do I sometimes have this “absence of emotion”, and is it in any way actually healthy?

Anyway, my friends from school are “Sai” and “Arra”. They were the ones that I didn’t go with to the farmer’s market today. I met them both last year. Sai I met during the early program that the school offers, and Arra I met at some orientation type activity soon after everyone else came back to campus. I feel bad when I end up pushing them away a little. They’re really nice people.

And they make me laugh. See, I’m a little random when I talk sometimes. So what they do, if we’re at dinner, is to build a “wall”. The wall is basically a line of salt and pepper shakers and napkin holders and plates and cups. But it “separates” me from them.  We laugh about it…especially if Arra or Sai is sitting next to me when the “wall” goes up–’cause then they’re on the ‘wrong’ side!

My mom doesn’t like the idea of this. Of the blog, that is. I can’t be mad at her either, because the points she brings up are ones I’ve thought of myself.  Mostly security issues. I have to think about this now. Because security and letting strangers know who you are may not be such a good thing. And a paper diary may be easier to keep people out of and all that. But on the other hand, if its online I can never lose it, right?

1 Comment » wenc:

August 15th, 2010 @ 11:25 pm Note to self…all worries still in place as of 8/15/10, but in this internet age, maybe I should just let be and hope that no one’s a meanie.