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(Wow, posting that last blog felt good. I missed putting what I think out into cyberspace, knowing that there’s a good chance it won’t get read. This blog is less personal, so I can voice opinions I’d be too afraid to post on my other blog.

Plus this one has an app for my iPod Touch, which I use more than my computer.)

I’ve been really annoyed with pretty much everyone lately. Being too judgmental is a real problem of mine; I can find something I don’t like in everyone I see, and I usually magnify that fault until there’s no room for any positive personality traits to win me over.

I’ve been trying to overcome this–it makes it hard for me to stay in a good mood. If I’m constantly complaining (out loud or to myself), I end up cranky and negative. Not only that, but being so critical of others makes me assume that everyone is that critical of me, so now I don’t want try anything new for fear that someone will make fun of me.

Example:
It seems like everyone and their Aunt Lillian is trying to start their own photography business. And why not? Everyone likes taking pictures. You can run it from the comfort of your home instead of getting a real job. You can charge ridiculous amounts of money if you have enough experience. People nowadays want pictures taken for everything: engagements, weddings, pregnancy, newborns, family pictures, senior pictures, etc etc etc.

It really irks me, especially since most of the photographers I know have no talent, no artistic instincts, and are just taking crappy pictures and editing the hell out of them.

Having a nice camera and knowing how to use it doesn’t make you a photographer.

I digress.

I make fun of these wanna be artists so much that when I think “Hey, maybe I should sell my jewelry/teach piano lessons/open a booth at the local boutique,” I shoot my own idea down. “That’ll never work,” I tell myself. “You’ll fail, and everyone will see you fail and whisper about you.” Consequently, I spend a lot of time watching other people succeed and burning with envy.

So now I’m trying to change my thinking to “good for them for trying something new! it’s more than I can say for myself.”

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It’s been almost a year since I wrote on this blog.

I’ve been hanging out over at Blogger, which is a lot easier (for me) to use. But I feel drawn back here, to my first blog. WordPress was always good to me. And I’ve lost all motivation with my Blogger blog.

Things that have happened since I last posted:

Went and got myself hitched. (Technically, that happened BEFORE my last post, but I didn’t mention it.)
Got a good job. (Also, before my last post.)
Traveled a bit.
Got baby hungry.
Quit the good job. (long story for another day)
Lost the baby hunger.
Got a sporadic part-time job.
Wished I was still a waitress. (I know, I know.)

… and that’s pretty much it. Nothing too exciting. Nothing worth putting into detail.

And since most of the viewers of this blog come from people Googling “I Hate Twilight,” here’s my hate on Twilight for the day:

Twilight (the movie) was pretty awful. Thought that New Moon might be better, which it was, but still awful. Its only redeeming quality was how lovable Jacob was. (But, if you’ve been reading this blog, you know that Jacob is the only character in the books I like, so I may be a bit biased.) The hubby and I saw both of these movies in the local dollar theater, which was jam-packed with college-aged girls–who glared at us intensely because we laughed the whole movie–and the occasional boyfriendsforced to see the movie–who glared as us enviously because they knew their girlfriends would never forgive them for laughing.

Also, someone needs to give Kristen Stewart a big ol’ hug, because she looks depressed in every picture.

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I know, I know

am contemplating deleting this blog. I’ve got another one, and the only people who read this one are A) reading my Twilight hate blogs, which I’m sick of or B) People I don’t know or C) both A and B.

 

I do need a blog I can write about really personal stuff on, though, just to get it out. But this one gets too many hits for that, plus my new blog is linked to this one, so people can see this one and read it.

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9-5

I got a real job.

That’s right, you read it right. I got a job. One that doesn’t involve the words, “Can I take your order?”

I’m a personal assistant to two real estate agents (brokers? I’m not sure what they are), and so far, I’m bored to tears.

It’s a giant change, going from carrying food to filing papers. Last week, I was constantly on my feet, surrounded by sweaty servers and exhausted cooks, pausing to to converse with my coworkers, exchanging gossip and telling jokes. Now, I sit at a desk all day, playing solitaire, carrying out orders, and occasionally picking up the phone, watching the minutes tick by and cherishing my bathroom breaks. Instead of carrying around an apron full of straws, napkins, and pens, I carry around a purse with two cell phones and a palm pilot—a true business woman!

I’m starting to miss the waitressing life. Dumb, I know. I have this great job with steady pay and benefits, and I miss my old job, one that would only provide about 15 hours of work a week!

I know, I know. I need to stop complaining.

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Watch this:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=k3aAVctDK8U

Hilarious!

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Hosting

Today I’m hosting at a Mexican restaurant. I just got done with my first shift, and in a few hours, I go back.

Earlier, I told a party of six that the wait was between 15 and 20 minutes. The guy in charge looked at my nametag and said, “Janeal”–and he pronounced it right. i wanted to kiss him–“what can we do to speed that up a little?” I so desperately wanted to tell him if he slips me a crisp 20, I can bump his name up the list a little. Wouldn’t that be amazing! It wouldn’t be any effort on my part. All it would do is make the other customers wait a bit longer. I can’t decide if this would make me a terrible person or not.

Alas, I couldn’t do it. My manager was standing right next to me, and I did not want to invoke the wrath of a pregno. I probably will never work up the courage to be bribed into changing things around, but it’s a nice thought.

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I wrote this essay for NPR’s “This I Believe,” but I haven’t submitted it yet. I don’t know if I’m going to. Tell me what you think.

The sun was settling comfortably into the western sky as Andrew and I turned our feet 180 degrees and started down the mountain. The breathtaking view of all the grandeur around us made it impossible to proceed without admiring it. As we gazed at nature’s artwork, Andrew drew my attention to a tiny dark blob at the apparent bottom of the painting. “Look,” he said, “a moose! Let’s make sure to steer clear of that one.”

As we neared the trail head, I heard a grunting through the bushes. My fear of being stomped to death by a bull moose had been lingering in the foreground of my mind, so I was quick to assume waht the source of the sound was. Sure enough, I saw a massive something looming through the leaves. I squinted, catching sight of a pair of antlers, huge and terrible to behold. I froze up, and, after uttering a string of profanity, flew up the trail into the safety of a boulder.

Despite my panicked response that day, I believe that thinking rationally will considerably improve the outcome of any situation.

Unfortunately, rational thinking in stressful situations has never been my strong point. Imagine for a moment that I had not been with my friend that fateful day. Me, emerging from my hiding place only to come face-to-face with a brown mass of anger. The sounds of my shrieks as the moose deemed me an enemy and pursued with violence in mind. To spare the graphic nature of this story, I will stop there. It would not be a pretty sight had I chosen to hike alone that day.

Fortunately, here iwas what really happened.

Andrew followed me to the cover of the boulder calmly, in contrast to my crazed getaway. All I could see in my head was the Antlered Fury–as I had come to call him in the long seconds since we encountered him–while Andrew was forming an escape route in his head.

He pried two dead branches from the ground and handed me one. This didn’t make me feel safe as much as it made me feel like a hysterical woman with a weapon. We eased our way down the trail with clubs in hand, stepping silently as Andrew had instructed. To my despair, the Antlered Fury was at the next switchback, staring us in the eyes, waiting to devour us. Biting back another round of swears, I abandoned all sanity, flung my branch to the side of the trail, and bolted.

Andrew hurried after me, hissing under his breat: “Stop running. You’ll make it anxious.” He then continued to give me simple commands in a hushed voice, which I tried my best to follow reasonably until I could stand it no longer. Finally, when we were out of sight of the beast, he ordered me to run. Sensing that the Antlered Fury was on our tails and knowing I was soon to run out of breath, I pressed on. After tripping while running downhill, I finally set foot onto pavement and saw my glorious, dirty chariot waiting for me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a minivan in my life.

I have been fortunate to have someone with me in every “crisis” situation: Being chased by a train, drinking gasoline, stabbing myself, losing the can opener… Without them, I would not have been thinking clearly enough to do the necessary things to suvive, since I lack the talent of breathing and calming down before making a decision. Someday I hope to gain that talent, and when I do, I won’t need to be rescued nearly as much.

Ugh. Reading over that, it sounds lame. Especially the end. I’m always horrible at concluding anything.

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