no leaders, please

I don't think I can work in one place for too long. I need to change. I need for my place of work to change.
The YMCA does not do this for me. What it does do is force me to supervise the same weekly program for the same bratty kids. And since I go to work after school, it prevents me from sneaking in an episode of Dexter before my father, who does not approve of me watching such things, gets home.
All work and no Dexter makes Laura hit children.

(Just kidding)

Working at the YMCA makes me miss my previous place of work, the privately owned Encore Theatre. There I experienced real variation. I miss it.

I miss learning that there were energy pills hidden in the ceiling upstairs.
I miss experimenting with slushie-pop mixes when no one was looking
I miss hearing stories of mice who peacefully and patiently observed the employees.
I miss hearing a grown man scream as mice ran out from under the dumpster out back.
I miss the life-sized cutout of Barack Obama.
I miss singing.
I miss dancing.
I miss my friends!

The Y is not for me. I am not the sporty type, and I find it difficult to befriend those who are. I thought I'd be happier working at Chapters, but I have realized from observing the "Staff Pick" stickers that most of them are romance-crazed females. I wish they were all Steve's.

Or at least the type who hide energy pills in the ceiling.

Hold Your Tongue!

I just wanted to say that I am currently going through my first bad break-up, but am NOT going to go on about it. I just wanted to set an example for any lonely teenagers who may come across this, because I find their blogs a waste of the English language, as well.

Go Back to Your Precious Husband and Child

Do you know what? I only just posted a blog, but going through the blogs of others has fired me up enough to write another one. Maybe they tie a bunch of related blogs together when you click the "Next Blog" button at the top of the screen, but for argument's sake let's pretend they don't.

I clicked that damned button about twenty times, and each blog was about just one thing: BABIES.
I love the fat, vomiting little creatures, I truly do, but if you find them reason enough to dedicate an entire blog to documenting every minute detail of their lives, you should seriously think about picking up a video camera instead. Or perhaps to start scrapbooking.
My point being; KEEP YOUR CHILDREN TO YOURSELF.

Each blog was by middle aged women, either talking about their wonderful children's first words, first steps, first belches, for God's sake! or their own struggle with infertility. Do you know whatI think? I think that blogs should be for the very young, or at least for the not-so-young with lives! I'm sure that children are just the most wonderful thing that can happen to a person, but to become so obsessed with your lovely husband and lovely infants is probably a sign that you should start writing a crappy romance novel. Because you probably read enough of them to know how it's done.

The Holiday

Once in a while you watch a crappy movie, and it makes you cry. And once in a while you watch a pretty decent movie, and it makes you wish you were Julia Child. Is that so wrong?

The crappy movie made reference to is The Holiday, with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz. Kate Winslet should mean the movie is awesome, but Cameron Diaz kind of overcomes her with crappiness. But Gangs of New York was still awesome, even with Diaz's terrible excuse for an Irish accent. I guess what I'm trying to say is that The Holiday and Julie & Julia are both decent chick flicks, on the rare occasion that that you can watch one without gagging. And Meryl Streep is bitchin'.

Do you know why I cried? Because a sweet little old man went to some thingamajig to be recognized for his writing (I think), and then was surprised when the room was filled with people cheering for him, and his sweet little wrinkled face simply bloomed with joy. God bless the elderly!
I think I have a wee bit of an old man complex, because I have no grandfathers of my own. This complex has no serious effects, it just gives me a strong urge to work at an old folks' home. And dress like I'm from the 20's-50's. And blast Buddy Holly or The Benny Goodman Orchestra when I pass someone elderly in the car. And cry when I see someone elderly smile, laugh, cry, or show any emotion, essentially. Like I said, no serious effects.

I just think we should all appreciate the elderly more than we do. But not the more modern elderly, like the ones who have DVD players (and know how to make them work), or the ones on TV who ride skateboards. I mean the ones who are losing their marbles, and can ramble on for hours about "the good old days". The ones whose children abandon them in homes where they're allowed to shower only twice a week. The ones who are injusticed or in pain, who are seen as "unuseful" by the younger public. I'll basically have to volunteer or work at an old folks' home, dress up all lovely so I can hear them say "Just like girls used to!", investigate the conditions they live in, and totally write a letter to someone... someone important.

I guess I'm just hormonal lately.

Even Though They Call Me Witler.

Today some classmates and I had a talk about Hitler.
And I realized that I am a little more apathetic towards him than many of my peers. Perhaps this is because a large number of my family members were not wiped out during WWII, but perhaps it is because I don't see a point in fighting an argument that finished decades ago. And that is how I see it.

At a pro-life conference (I know, I know, everything I say seems to relate back to this cause, but I promise that I am preaching about something else today) we had one speaker tell us about a man he saw, who had a tattoo of a swastika crossed out on his arm. The speaker's daughter went up to that man and said, "It is so brave of you to make a statement like that. Thank you." Then she and her dad laughed at the man for the stupidity in the obvious statement he was making - Nazism is bad.

I would never deny the absolute horror of the Holocaust, nor would I do anything to try and play it down, I just don't have the energy to fight for something that everyone knows is wrong. At least, most everyone is Western society recognizes that genocide is wrong, prejudice is wrong, totalitarianism is wrong.
Do you know where I would stand up against anti-Semitism? Somewhere where it was an issue.

There is no point to standing up for a cause when everyone is already involved in supporting it. I wouldn't stand up in my school and say "Murder is wrong! We all have to stop killing!", because no one in my school is a murderer... yet. Though I think I know a lot of people who would get tattoos of the word "MURDER" crossed out on their arms.

Party Lessons

Here are a few things I learned yesterday:

1. Bad situations are made much worse by alcohol.
2. They are made even worse when those who have consumed the alcohol begin to vomit.
3. Sometimes the people you think are creepy, but harmless become much less harmless when they have consumed alcohol.
4. Being sober is not always a bad thing. Sometimes it's very convenient. Though, sometimes it means you have to clean up vomit..
5. Cleaning up vomit makes you feel pretty good about yourself. Especially when the hostess is in tears.

If you haven't guessed it by now, I was at a party last night. A very, very drama-filled party. Long story short, a certain very drunk person decided to pin the hostess against a wall, and most everyone was useless to help due to excessive inebriation. Though, a certain few took the situation outside, and started a fight with that drunk person, his ride, and his ride's girlfriend, who I've heard is a shit-disturbing slutface. But that's just what I've heard.

I think the most important thing I realized yesterday was this:

6. Most people are cowards when it comes down to it, and stare at injustice rather than act.

You'll Be Surprised To Know I'm Getting 90% In Religion.

Once in a while, I like to wish something in my head, and entertain the fancy that there is a possibility of it coming true.
I think this is called praying.

And once in a while, I almost believe that someone out there can hear me, and truly wants to grant my wish.
I think this is called a religious urge.

This unsteadies me, as I am a proud Agnostic. Who is proud of indecision, you may ask? I absolutely am, as I consider it the only sane way to be. Wholeheartedly believing that something unproven exists makes just as little sense as believing it doesn't. There are those Atheists who will back their arguments with science, but science can only go so far; besides, I think anyone who believes too thoroughly in science loses themselves, and is possibly insane. In contrast, there are those Believers who claim that they have personally witnessed divine intervention. These people are almost definitely insane.

Most of us, including myself in many cases, get so tired of wracking our brains in search of a definite answer that we decide not to think of the divine at all. When asked one's opinion on religion, one will often respond "...I dunno". This disgusts me just a tad. When asked what I believe, I often begin a long, rambling, poetic explanation of what I have summarized above. Perhaps this is worse.

I guess you could say I don't believe in short answers.