I found out yesterday that my old friend, Reed, died last Wednesday. The funeral is today. I was deciding last night if I should go and then I started thinking about Reed and the memories I have. Then it was a no brainer. I don't get to have those times with him anymore. This is the last time. And at age 30, it's scary. I had a friend who died when I was 16 and a former boss when I was 25 and my great grandma when I was 22 and my grandpa when I was 11. But none of those felt completely real though, they were people I was not super close to or was too young to appreciate. But Reed was a for real friend. We went to bars together and talked on the phone together. He was only 35. That's so young. Not very far away from what I am right now. Is this the time that this starts happening? This losing friends thing? You know how you start having to go to a lot of weddings around age 24 and then a lot of baby showers around age 27...is 30 when the funerals start? I hope not. Another old friend from junior high, Nate Pieratt, died last year. It feels kind of unreal, like they are playing a joke on us. Like later we'll laugh and say, "Haha! Remember that time when you pretended like you were dead and we all thought we'd never see you again but then you really weren't dead and we were so relieved. Yeah, that was pretty funny." I can't quite wrap my head around the reality that it's not going to happen like that.
I met Reed when I very first moved to Salt Lake. He hired me at Red Lobster, actually. He was one of my first friends in SLC. I knew we would get along famously when I borrowed some keys from him to get more bar towels on one of my first days working there. I brought his keys back and held them out and said," So, is this where I keep your keys hostage in return for sexual favors?" Reed laughed and said, "We are going to be friends. You are a bitch after my own heart." And it was true! We had the best time whenever we got to work together. He was my boss so technically he wasn't allowed to be my friend, too. But it didn't matter. He would meet us at Bongo for drinks after work, after waiting until we were gone and then going a different direction. We would drink wine and play Ticket to Ride at Ryan's house. I remember drinking so much wine one night that neither of us could drive home so all three of us crammed into Ryan's bed and spent the night making jokes about how interesting it was that a straight girl and two gay guys were sharing a bed. I vividly remember a 2 am phone call. "M, wake up, come out with us. We have whiskey. You're coming." "I'm in bed, you silly. In my pajamas, in bed, asleep, have been for a while." "Nope, you're getting out of bed, putting on hot clothes and coming out with us. Right now. See you in half an hour." Click. And I was there in half an hour. I still have no idea how he did it. I do not rouse from comfortable sleep easily.
Reed and I have not hung out for a few years. Life got in the way, I guess. I know Reed has had some hard times recently. No need for details. I'm not even sure of them myself. And deep down, I worry that this was not entirely an accident. If that is the case, I hope he is happy now, I hope he found the peace that he was looking for. If it was just a freak accident one cold night, then I hope he is warm now. I hope he is in a happier place. And either way, I hope he knows that we will miss him. I hope he knows that I will always be grateful that I got the chance to spend some time with him and that he brightened my life for a little while. I wish I could have been there more or fixed everything for him but I hope he knows that I feel blessed to have been able to call him friend. Rest in peace, my dear Reed.
2.01.2011
10.25.2010
the worst member of the Donner party
So I decided to write this particular entry about my weird food habits. I have so many strange habits that food habits have become their own category. Hey, I am a unique snowflake. Don't judge. Haha.
1. I don't like egg whites. But I really like the yolk. And especially that part right in between, where the yolk is kind of cooked but not all the way. This is of course A. when I eat eggs voluntarily, which is rarely and B. when they have been cooked properly so there's no little runny gooey part of the white left. Then, I like to cut the white off and just use the yolk part. And I do not like scrambled eggs. Or omelettes. Gross.
2. If the food is questionable in anyway, I won't eat it. Like it might smell funny but I can't tell if it's just me or not. If I question it for a moment in my mind, I lose my appetite for it. For example, I used to like chicken burritos from Taco Bell but once my brother said, "Yeah, I like those too, even thought you know that meat is like the cheapest part of the chicken, like the asshole or something." Now, whenever I think of chicken meat from Taco Bell, I think of chicken assholes and then I want to throw up a little bit in my mouth. And now, I can't eat chicken from Taco Bell.
3. I can't eat two sweet things at the same time. I thought everyone was like this until recently. Then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had never understood why people would eat candy and drink soda at the same time. It's like they cancel each other out in my mouth and become roadkill. Or something else that I imagine would taste disgusting. So, coffee and dessert for me is coffee THEN dessert. Because I like my coffee sweet. Of course.
4. I avoid raw chicken. And reheated chicken. Reheated meat in general. Also, raw meat on the whole kind of grosses me out. Raw chicken is germy pink goo. Like mutant slime. And meat is only good when it's fresh cooked. Reheated meat reminds me of leather. And I've never once thought about eating leather. I would have been the worst member of the Donner party. Or the first one eaten.
1. I don't like egg whites. But I really like the yolk. And especially that part right in between, where the yolk is kind of cooked but not all the way. This is of course A. when I eat eggs voluntarily, which is rarely and B. when they have been cooked properly so there's no little runny gooey part of the white left. Then, I like to cut the white off and just use the yolk part. And I do not like scrambled eggs. Or omelettes. Gross.
2. If the food is questionable in anyway, I won't eat it. Like it might smell funny but I can't tell if it's just me or not. If I question it for a moment in my mind, I lose my appetite for it. For example, I used to like chicken burritos from Taco Bell but once my brother said, "Yeah, I like those too, even thought you know that meat is like the cheapest part of the chicken, like the asshole or something." Now, whenever I think of chicken meat from Taco Bell, I think of chicken assholes and then I want to throw up a little bit in my mouth. And now, I can't eat chicken from Taco Bell.
3. I can't eat two sweet things at the same time. I thought everyone was like this until recently. Then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had never understood why people would eat candy and drink soda at the same time. It's like they cancel each other out in my mouth and become roadkill. Or something else that I imagine would taste disgusting. So, coffee and dessert for me is coffee THEN dessert. Because I like my coffee sweet. Of course.
4. I avoid raw chicken. And reheated chicken. Reheated meat in general. Also, raw meat on the whole kind of grosses me out. Raw chicken is germy pink goo. Like mutant slime. And meat is only good when it's fresh cooked. Reheated meat reminds me of leather. And I've never once thought about eating leather. I would have been the worst member of the Donner party. Or the first one eaten.
10.18.2010
more bad habits....or fears rather
I guess these aren't really all bad habits. There's mostly fears sprinkled in and quirks and pet peeves. Just a little of everything really. Guess it means I will need to do a things I love post afterward to even it out.
4. Seems pretty self explanatory but nighttime. I was going to say forests at nighttime but then I realized that I don't really like very many nighttime related things. I hate forests at nighttime. I hate empty houses at nighttime. I hate creepy alleyways at nighttime. Scuba diving in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night would be my worst nightmare. I would seriously not take a million dollars to do it. I would rather be poverty stricken my whole life than accept a million dollars to be in the ocean in the darkness. Maybe I meant the word "darkness"? Because actually I really love my house at nighttime when all the candles are lit and it's cozy and warm. But I do not like going outside when it's dark. So...I don't mind the nighttime when I am in the light! See how I did that.....deductive reasoning....BLAM! Ninja.
5. Speaking of ninjas, I don't really like to handle sharp objects. Like knives. I do it all the time but I don't feel totally comfortable with it. I just know that any second, it will slip and happen to land in my kidney or something. And GARBAGE DISPOSALS!!! Oh God, no way. I will not stick my hand down in that murky, razor protected portal of Hades. Dude, I saw that movie....Final Destination. I think my brain collapsed from the stress of that moment in the movie when that dude is digging around in the garbage disposal and there's a side view closeup of the switch and the music and GAAAAAHHHHHH!!! I can't handle it. Once, there was a little knife stuck in my garbage disposal.....you can imagine the trauma I have experienced. It's amazing I'm still functional.
6. And speaking of things that make me uncomfortable, I have an alarmingly obsessive fear of raw wood. The feel of it. I don't like touching it and it never comes anywhere near my mouth. Like toothpicks and popsic....I'm sorry, I need a moment....le sticks. I am cringing as I type this. The MENTION of popsicle sticks is enough to induce tremors. And no, I do not eat popsicles. Ever. Or use toothpicks. Or chopsticks. Or even suckers, because the paper stick is kind of the same as the wooden stick and now you see just how irrational I have become. It's quite sad really. Painted wood is ok, polished wood if ok, really smooth wood is ok.....raw wood is a big hell to the no...NO. There are times when the accidental touch of raw wood has incapacitated me. Scraping wood on my teeth would downright kill me, I think. I have never met anyone with the same affliction. Everyone else seems to be able to use wooden coffee stirrers to their little hearts content. Imagine the purgatory I go through each year when my school's (wonderful and amazing) PTA brings popsicles to a faculty meeting. 40 people sucking on wooden sticks. It's pretty devastating. I have no idea where this comes from, I have never experienced actual trauma related to wooden sticks...as far as I know anyway. But I don't remember it ever not being this way.
I'm feeling a bit peckish.....probably because I just spent half an hour thinking about wooden popsicle sticks. I just imagined an even worse worst nightmare. Being in the ocean in the middle of the night with a raft made of popsicle sticks.
4. Seems pretty self explanatory but nighttime. I was going to say forests at nighttime but then I realized that I don't really like very many nighttime related things. I hate forests at nighttime. I hate empty houses at nighttime. I hate creepy alleyways at nighttime. Scuba diving in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night would be my worst nightmare. I would seriously not take a million dollars to do it. I would rather be poverty stricken my whole life than accept a million dollars to be in the ocean in the darkness. Maybe I meant the word "darkness"? Because actually I really love my house at nighttime when all the candles are lit and it's cozy and warm. But I do not like going outside when it's dark. So...I don't mind the nighttime when I am in the light! See how I did that.....deductive reasoning....BLAM! Ninja.
5. Speaking of ninjas, I don't really like to handle sharp objects. Like knives. I do it all the time but I don't feel totally comfortable with it. I just know that any second, it will slip and happen to land in my kidney or something. And GARBAGE DISPOSALS!!! Oh God, no way. I will not stick my hand down in that murky, razor protected portal of Hades. Dude, I saw that movie....Final Destination. I think my brain collapsed from the stress of that moment in the movie when that dude is digging around in the garbage disposal and there's a side view closeup of the switch and the music and GAAAAAHHHHHH!!! I can't handle it. Once, there was a little knife stuck in my garbage disposal.....you can imagine the trauma I have experienced. It's amazing I'm still functional.
6. And speaking of things that make me uncomfortable, I have an alarmingly obsessive fear of raw wood. The feel of it. I don't like touching it and it never comes anywhere near my mouth. Like toothpicks and popsic....I'm sorry, I need a moment....le sticks. I am cringing as I type this. The MENTION of popsicle sticks is enough to induce tremors. And no, I do not eat popsicles. Ever. Or use toothpicks. Or chopsticks. Or even suckers, because the paper stick is kind of the same as the wooden stick and now you see just how irrational I have become. It's quite sad really. Painted wood is ok, polished wood if ok, really smooth wood is ok.....raw wood is a big hell to the no...NO. There are times when the accidental touch of raw wood has incapacitated me. Scraping wood on my teeth would downright kill me, I think. I have never met anyone with the same affliction. Everyone else seems to be able to use wooden coffee stirrers to their little hearts content. Imagine the purgatory I go through each year when my school's (wonderful and amazing) PTA brings popsicles to a faculty meeting. 40 people sucking on wooden sticks. It's pretty devastating. I have no idea where this comes from, I have never experienced actual trauma related to wooden sticks...as far as I know anyway. But I don't remember it ever not being this way.
I'm feeling a bit peckish.....probably because I just spent half an hour thinking about wooden popsicle sticks. I just imagined an even worse worst nightmare. Being in the ocean in the middle of the night with a raft made of popsicle sticks.
10.14.2010
habits, hobbies and minor annoyances
I'm kind of the queen of bad habits. In general. I have so many bad habits, I've lost count. Gross ones, unhealthy ones, unnecessary ones, imagined ones, weird ones....etcetera. So I figured it might be kind of funny to write about them today.
1. I bite my nails. Gross. I don't remember when it started and I've made my peace with the fact that it may never stop. I remember reading Berenstein Bears and the Bad Habit when I was in fifth grade and trying to stop then. But dimes just weren't a motivator for me. Quarters maybe would have worked but dimes....h to the no. I don't even stop to pick up a dime on the street. Ok, maybe I do, but that's because I teach school. Get what I'm saying? But PENNIES, no way. I digress. It didn't help that I was trying to play Pavlov to myself AND that I was like, 11. I tried, once again to stop during my first year of teaching. I got embarrassed and stopped for about two weeks. And all I did for two weeks was think about biting my nails. I would look at my long, beautiful nails like a fiend. "I just want to bite it sooo bad. Just one nibble. Just one." I haven't tried to stop since then.
2. I am terrified of everything that has to do with dark, unseen places. Like deep water, caves, underground tunnels, haunted houses, etc. I am the biggest wimp I know. I won't go in water unless I can see the bottom and know that there are no little critters or surprises waiting for me. I won't go in dark places if I can help it. I'll wait outside thankyouverymuch. Haunted houses, forget it. My boyfriend has been saying for two years that he's going to get me to go to a really scary haunted house, to which my response is,"And then how would you feel after I shat myself?" I think I can pinpoint this one to a few different places. First, swimming in a lake when I was 8 and a fish brushing my leg and me screaming bloody murder as I tried to run through the water back to shore. Alas, Jesus I am not, and ended up with a mouthful of lake water, which didn't scare me as much as the possibility of that water having bugs in it. And being 11 and going on a field trip to a castle and my class being shut in a dark dungeon for a minute so we could see what it felt like. Bitch, I have a good imagination, I don't need it to actually happen to me to know that it sucks. Or my church when I was 10, which took place in two buildings set across a giant graveyard from each other and me being asked to carry a message to the OTHER BUILDING, at NIGHT, through a DARK GRAVEYARD. I swear to God, I saw that angel statue move fo real. Which leads me to...
3. Scary movies. I DO NOT watch them. I cried during Land Before Time. I'm a sensitive soul. That part in the Secret Garden, where the main girl hears Colin crying in the nighttime before she knows it's Colin, ruined my sleep for days. Harry Potter probably would have horrified me when I was a kid. Hey, don't judge, there's some scary shit going down at Hogwarts. I WILL make an exception for zombie movies....IF they are cheesy AND someone else is present. I guess both of these also explain why I don't like to be the leader or the last one in a line of people. The leader always has to actually see the danger and the last person is always the first to be snatched away. I'm perfectly fine with being the padding in the middle.
I guess I'm more neurotic than I thought. This might take awhile. I will write about the next 3 tomorrow.
1. I bite my nails. Gross. I don't remember when it started and I've made my peace with the fact that it may never stop. I remember reading Berenstein Bears and the Bad Habit when I was in fifth grade and trying to stop then. But dimes just weren't a motivator for me. Quarters maybe would have worked but dimes....h to the no. I don't even stop to pick up a dime on the street. Ok, maybe I do, but that's because I teach school. Get what I'm saying? But PENNIES, no way. I digress. It didn't help that I was trying to play Pavlov to myself AND that I was like, 11. I tried, once again to stop during my first year of teaching. I got embarrassed and stopped for about two weeks. And all I did for two weeks was think about biting my nails. I would look at my long, beautiful nails like a fiend. "I just want to bite it sooo bad. Just one nibble. Just one." I haven't tried to stop since then.
2. I am terrified of everything that has to do with dark, unseen places. Like deep water, caves, underground tunnels, haunted houses, etc. I am the biggest wimp I know. I won't go in water unless I can see the bottom and know that there are no little critters or surprises waiting for me. I won't go in dark places if I can help it. I'll wait outside thankyouverymuch. Haunted houses, forget it. My boyfriend has been saying for two years that he's going to get me to go to a really scary haunted house, to which my response is,"And then how would you feel after I shat myself?" I think I can pinpoint this one to a few different places. First, swimming in a lake when I was 8 and a fish brushing my leg and me screaming bloody murder as I tried to run through the water back to shore. Alas, Jesus I am not, and ended up with a mouthful of lake water, which didn't scare me as much as the possibility of that water having bugs in it. And being 11 and going on a field trip to a castle and my class being shut in a dark dungeon for a minute so we could see what it felt like. Bitch, I have a good imagination, I don't need it to actually happen to me to know that it sucks. Or my church when I was 10, which took place in two buildings set across a giant graveyard from each other and me being asked to carry a message to the OTHER BUILDING, at NIGHT, through a DARK GRAVEYARD. I swear to God, I saw that angel statue move fo real. Which leads me to...
3. Scary movies. I DO NOT watch them. I cried during Land Before Time. I'm a sensitive soul. That part in the Secret Garden, where the main girl hears Colin crying in the nighttime before she knows it's Colin, ruined my sleep for days. Harry Potter probably would have horrified me when I was a kid. Hey, don't judge, there's some scary shit going down at Hogwarts. I WILL make an exception for zombie movies....IF they are cheesy AND someone else is present. I guess both of these also explain why I don't like to be the leader or the last one in a line of people. The leader always has to actually see the danger and the last person is always the first to be snatched away. I'm perfectly fine with being the padding in the middle.
I guess I'm more neurotic than I thought. This might take awhile. I will write about the next 3 tomorrow.
10.05.2010
it snot funny
By the way, we are seven weeks into the school year and I am already in my third round of sickness. Or should I say, snotness. I love the beginning of the school year. Fresh, smiling, new germs....i mean students eagerly awaiting your first word(it's only the first one they care about, after two, they're gone forever). I seriously did not know it was humanly possible to produce this much snot. I feel like I should start wearing some kind of snot shield around. I'm scared to death of accidentally shooting a snot rocket in front of my class. I cannot think of any worse purgatorial punishment than launching accidental snot rockets for all eternity. Well, maybe I can. Laundry comes to mind. Besides the point. Or SNARTING! OMG, I did just think of something worse than snot rockets. I would forever be known as THAT teacher, the one who sneezed and accidentally ripped one in front of a silent classroom. Oh God. What have I done? I will now have to clench for as long as I live. Baby got back ya'll. I'm not entirely sure how I got from snot to Sir Mix-a-Lot, but girlfriend(or bf, whatevs), here we are. What I'm trying to say is I'm sick. And I work in a petri dish. Send thoughts of chicken soup and Sprite my way. Thanks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)