May be test-driving blogspot. Got fed up with not being able to edit CSS for free on WordPress. We’ll see where I end up.
My head is still reeling. Ahhhhhhh, I feel so alive! It’s good to get out.
After my 10am and working at the TV station, I hopped a bus to Santa Monica. Naturally this had all been planned out in detail the night before. I’m one of those people who study their Google map routes, all the way down to street-view. See, I had a purpose to go out to Santa Monica. When Mom came for parents weekend, she did one of those “YOU HAVE NO CLOTHES” [valid] “LET ME BUY YOU STUFF” [oy]. I really don’t like her spending money on me, especially stuff that I’m not crazy about. So this trip was basically me sneaking a shirt back to MANGO before the 30 day return policy was up.
I usually don’t consider myself a scared person, but I’ve been told so many horrible things about the LA transportation system, I was wary to be going by myself. The first bus, there weren’t any empty seats so I sat down next to this one lady who gave me a look. I’m still not sure if it was a glare or a why-did-you-pick-me or a you-exist look. And when people started getting off and there were open seats by themselves, I didn’t know whether or not to move. What is the etiquette for that? I didn’t want her to think that I wanted to get away from her, but at the same time she could’ve been thinking why is this chick still blocking me in? Oh well. I was so antsy I couldn’t read but two pages of my book.
Second bus. Way less crowded. Didn’t realize it was an Express which meant it cost $2.20 and not $1.50. I had already put in my $1.50 and I didn’t have enough change to make $.70 so I had to put in another dollar. And they don’t give change. Boo. Yeah, LA Metro, you better enjoy that $.30!
I get to Santa Monica and it’s just a sigh of relief. My entire body can finally stop white-knuckling it. Sadly, because I don’t have Mom’s credit card, I could only get store credit. Rah, so before I move away I basically have to buy something that’s $50 from MANGO. Great. I mean, it can’t even be used online. Whyyyyyy. I made it up to myself by purchasing some black nail polish for $5 at Sephora. AND THENNNNN
I WENT TO THE BEACH! It was splendid. I’ve looked, but I haven’t touched the water in so long. I think the last time my toes were in the Pacific was when I was like 7 or something and my family had traveled to San Francisco to see relatives. YEAH. I had my camera and my backpack and it was just lovely having my toes making lines in the sand. Mmmmmm.
I like that I can do these things by myself. I was a little worried going into it that I would feel really lonely and pathetic that I didn’t have anyone with me. But I really enjoyed just being with… me. Doing stuff on my own time. Picking where I was going to wander next. There was a moment when I was walking down Wilshire towards the beach and I was just like, “This is perfect.” I really love Santa Monica. It’s sure housing is a bitch, but that place makes me happy.
Things were pretty uneventful until I was trying to leave. I got lunch at the vegan place Mom and I had went to when she was here. MMMMM what I got was incredible. It was their November special, basically a giant vegan Thanksgiving dinner. Setain, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn bread, all with mushroom gravy. SO YUMMEH! It was just me and my little table by the window. It was funny because my waiter and I kinda had a moment when he first walked up to my table. Our eyes met and lit up. It was if we were saying, “You’re cute.” — “You’re cute.” Also, another one of the employees who was a middle-aged Hispanic guy was really sweet to me. I mean, he was gruff, but not abrasive. I just felt like he wanted to make sure I was taken care of. Kinda the fatherly vibe.
So yeah, then there’s me trying to get home. I spent probably an hour trying to find something cheap to buy to break my $20 so I had ones for the bus. Nice thing is that I made buds with the security guard in Forever 21. I walk in with my to-go box and he stops me in the door. At first, I’m like, shit, he’s not gonna let me in. But then he did the whole you brought that for me right? So it was all good. I tipped my hat to him when I left, too :] Then it took me for FREAKIN’ ever to locate the bus stop. Google maps, YOU FAILED ME! I definitely did circles, broke down and went into the Santa Monica police department. The officer there wasn’t much help. Surprise. You know who got me there? The two valet guy at Hotel Carmel. Hah, it was so adorable because they were both so eager to help me, but then they started arguing over where the stop was. They sent me inside to the front desk and one of them had been right. I dunno, my exchange with them was so cute and warm, it eased by temporary freak out about not being able to find the bus.
First bus on route home. The driver was super nice to me. No seats though. So I got to stand for about 50 minutes in LA traffic, holding onto dear life to one of those strappy thingies on the metal bar. Also, before we got in the highway traffic, we picked up some older guy with a cane. He was really dirty. Half the bus is standing, but he basically yells, “Who’s going to get up?” I dunno, geeze man, couldn’t you be a little more polite. And after someone had given him a seat, he barked at a lady next to him, “Move over!” It get’s better because when we finally got off the freeway and the bus cleared so I had a seat, I was sitting right across from him. He’d been asleep all on the highway, but the moment I entered his line of sight he was awake.
“How’re you?” I didn’t really know if it was directed at me. I was looking at my notebook.
He touched my knee, and I look up. “How are you?” he repeats.
I kinda felt bad that I gave him the 1 second total shut down smile, but I have to have my guard up. He left me alone after that. I also never made eye contact again.
Last bus home. I get on, having barely gotten my money out and see that I have no more ones. What the fuck. With change I’m about a quarter short. I almost didn’t get on because I thought shit, there’s no way she’s gonna let me ride if I can’t pay. But she did! When I sat down in the front, I noticed a little girl in front of me–maybe 11 or 12. She had her backpack and a maroon, catholic school uniform. I just remember, her named was stitched on her sweater. Mia Richards? Anyway, she was a beautiful little thing. And I wondered why she was on the bus alone. School should have been out way long ago. Then she started to the bus driver. Aw, that’s nice, she’s riding with her sister, I thought. Later, I overheard her say “mom.”
I dunno why, I just was really fascinated by the two of them. I wondered about their story, ran through all the typical stereotypes, but then other scenarios that went beyond that. Also, this trust thing. It’s a sad world we live in. Like me pushing away the old guy. This time, there was an old hispanic lady sitting next to Mia. She pulled to candy bars out of their purse and silently offered them to her. “No, thank you,” Mia said. The lady kept holding them out, still not saying anything, but her body language was insistent. “No, thank you.” That time was a little more firmly. The old lady kinda shrugged and put the candy back in her purse. God, it was just so sad. I mean, I know where it came from–the girls obviously been taught not to accept things from strangers, you never know right. But that the same time, I was so sad for that old lady. Mia was not rude at all. It was just like, this is the way our world is.
I’m about 3 stops from home. The bus has pulled over, made a complete stop. Then there’s this super loud crash from the driver’s side. Apparently some truck smashed into her side mirror and didn’t bother stopping. Luckily she wasn’t hurt or anything. Everyone on the bus was super nice about it. One lady was like, “I thought it was a gun shot!” Oh, LA. Five blocks from my school. Yeah, that sounds about right.
Anyway, we had to wait for a supervisor to come, and the next bus that should have picked us all up just blew right past. But the bus was okay enough that she was allowed to finish her route. YEAH. Can’t go out to do anything without it being a whole commotion.
No time for reflection. Too much homework. But now you have my day.
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If there is anyone in your life that you must forgive, instead of seeing them as someone who has hurt you, try to see them as someone who was sent to teach you forgiveness and thank them for this precious gift – then forgive them, and let it go.
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Today’s my last day of being 18. I have a giant essay due the night of my birthday. We are neglecting this.
So there’s this kid in my film class. And I say kid and I mean he’s probably a couple years older than me. And I don’t even think he goes to my university, but he knows the professor or something. Yeah, it’s weird. I’m not really sure. Also, I’m probably going to regret writing this later. Because what if we become friends, then he’ll inevitably discover my marionhoney empire and thus will come across this. But oh well. I haven’t blogged in a while, and I figured what better than for me to give my readers some honeyjuice in exchange for my frequent absences.
Anyway, so this kid. He had me watch his stuff for him one day while he ran to get coffee. Insert playful banter. Then during the screening [in this class, it’s set up as lecture then you watch a movie that reflects what was talked about] I break out my snacks: banana nicked from the dining hall, chocolate chip cookie. Suddenly I hear a piece of paper being ripped next to me and I see my buddy writing something down. He passes the note to me. I still have this note. It’s right next to me on my desk.
You had snacks the whole time? >:/
So what do I do? Write back of course.
Cookies are a sacred nourishment. I wasn’t at liberty to share. Cough twice if you want 2/3 a banana.
Damn, I’m eloquent, n’est pas? He wrote back “cough cough” and I slipped it to him.
Anyway, the whole thing was just nice, that’s all. Two weeks ago he told me that he was in debt to me. The next week he brought me water that I was too shy to ask for and then offered to get me coffee during the five minute break.
“Oh, no thanks. I’m trying to watch my cash.”
“No, no, I’ll pay for it. I still owe you.”
I protested anyways.
Then this week. This week, TODAY in fact. So I’m on my way to class, thought I’d pick up a milkshake to sip on during the screening. In my purse I also had cookies [again swiped from the dining hall] that I was bringing him. Just remembered the other one is still in my purse. Anyway, I get there, sit next to the girls I usually sit with and look over to my left. There he was. With coffee. Two coffees. He bought me one. It was so nice. But at the same time I was cursing my luck because I had been toying with the idea of asking him to get coffee afterwards. He ended up only staying for the lecture anyway.
I can’t tell if it was just a kind gesture, in return for mine. Or if… nahhh I’m being a girl and jumping to conclusions. All the same.
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Tags: boys, passing notes, university
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For some reason this popped into my mind while walking home from the gym. When I lived in Tennessee, my dad and I would do this thing. We would go to Wal-Mart, be-grudgingly. Before they built the Kroger, it was the closet place around that sold organic milk. Now the Wal-Mart clientele north of Memphis are a special breed of people. One way of putting up with having to go to Wal-Mart was to play this game. I don’t know who came up with it, me or him. But when we would walk past someone in the parking lot, one of us would speak out of the side of our mouth, barely moving our lips [kinda in the same fashion as when one makes a trumpet sound with their mouth], and in a high-pitched, but quiet voice would say “Help, helllllp. I’m up here. Look, up here. I’m stuck on the roof. Help me! Hellllllp meeeeee!”
The key was to have the vocalist avoid all eye contact, stare at the ground if possible, and have the other member watch for people’s reactions. And every so often, we would get someone who would stop their shopping cart, crane their neck, and squint towards the distant roof of the Wal-Mart warehouse. Maybe, just maybe, there was someone up there who really freakin’ wanted to get down.
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Tags: Dad, games, memories, Wal-Mart
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I felt stupidly alone today. Actually I just woke up this morning in a teeny bit of a funk. And it wasn’t even because I woke up from a dream about people from my past or being in someplace in my life before college [see how I avoid the word “home” here? The audience reels. There must be something wrong with her home life, they cry!]. Usually when my dreams involve that I wake up a little ehh. But no, I don’t remember quite what of, but I know this dream had to do with my life in California. I think I was peeved because some conversation with someone was interrupted, and I wanted to know what he was going to say next.
But yes, wake up in a funk. Stare down at the freshman fifteen. Sigh. Under 40 minutes to be at my first class. Eat a brownie for breakfast. So good. So bad. Depressing lunch was depressing. Only because that particular dining hall is so dreary. Everyone’s cracking up that it got a B on the health inspection. And today they only had paper plates and plastic cutlery. I heard a rumor that their dishwasher was confiscated.
Then I didn’t speak up during class and felt like my professor was eyeing me to do so. I always think of things after the fact. Made myself feel better by sharing froyo, but killed it by also getting a raspberry tart afterwards. And then there was the lecture I should have skipped and feeling like my closet friend here ditched me for dinner. It’s Thursday. We were supposed to scope out the joint for Green Shirt Guy. Green Shirt Guy is a project of mine, although it’s still in development.
Brownie, Kudos, cookie, approaching gummies. I should probably just go to bed. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here. Today was just one of those days. I liked reading this this morning though:
“And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place thing or situation-some fact of my life – unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God’s world by mistake… unless I accept life completely on life’s terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and my attitudes.”
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Tags: California, college, food, funk, Green Shirt Guy, mornings, The Daily Love, university
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So I’m snuggled under the soft sheet of my raised bed. Got Polly, got my little IKEA lamp, and things seem good. My window right in front of me is possibly my favorite spot in the room. There’s a tiny window seat I can wedge myself into, that I plan on decking out with pillows. I can see me tucking myself into that nook to read The Fountainhead and watch the occasional car putter down the street below. Los Angeles is out my window, guys. And I’m really happy about it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m scared shitless. I’m starting college for god’s sake. There are a million things I need to be doing, and checking out, and paying for. There are a million more things in the rapidly approaching future that will freak me out on a whole other level. Occasionally I am overcome with fits of loneliness. Like someone didn’t ask me to go down with them to the pancake breakfast and suddenly the entire world has it’s back to you. My room is still a bit of a mess and I have five boxes being shipped from Indy. I can’t find the two books of stamps my father bought for me. Classes start Monday. I can tell already that the freshmen15 is going to be an uphill battle. Chocolate reserves have been initiated. And my dinner of mushroom tortellini, stir-fried tofu, and a chocolate chip cookie at the caf upset my stomach and left me incredibly gassy for the rest of this evening.
But there are so many good moments. I want to say so many more good moments. Like sharing a mirror with my suitemate while I washed my face in the morning. Slicing my banana at breakfast on the quad. The sunshine filtering through the leaves above me at convocation. Throngs of very attractive, potentially douchebagerous boys. On a similar strain, hunkyhunky electric violinist. Going to IKEA for the first time. The cinema departmental meetings, listening to deans telling us how we’re soon going to be losing all our free time and how important failing is and only the comfortable should be scared. I’m far from comfortable. At the convocation, sitting next to a Minnesotan Unitarian who also loves NPR and Garrison Keillor.
I stopped by a map to see if I was headed in the right direction. A girl was already there, talking to someone on her phone about being unable to get to the same place I was going. So I just tapped her on the shoulder, said I was making my way to the same building, and offered to walk with her. I can’t emphasize how important it is just to shove yourself at people. A Marion of years past would have eyed this girl, but not spoken. So, yeah, I was really proud of that. And on Sunday we plan on walking our schedule together. That’s if she can find me on facebook. She might not know how to spell Marion [I’ve gotten Marilyn about twice]. I tried looking for her, but there are a lot of Hannah’s.
I’m on an upswing. I really like this place right now.
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Tags: college, college freshmen, film school, first week at college, IKEA, meeting new people, university, welcome week
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