The dupe, which I affectionately refer to it as, is the duplex that my parents bought way back in the day before my sister was born. She spent her first years here, my brother spent his first days here, and then they relocated to good ol' Madera county. After my parents moved out, my dad's parents (Mamaw and Papaw-- from Kentucky), and some of their children, moved in.
Many years (and many smells, if you ever visited while the Brewer's lived here, especially during the holidays) down the line, I live in this cute nook of an old place, still with faded-pink bathroom tile and peeling linoleum in the kitchen. (Newly installed A/C however -- it died this summer, during the hottest couple of weeks in Fresno. That strained our relationship a bit.) Consequently, because my relatives lived here for so long, I still get some of their mail. Every month a PG&E bill comes for Mamaw, all $770 past-due. I just toss it out. I've considered writing "return to sender-- deceased (for like 10 years now)" on it, but haven't. Mamaw and Papaw were ministers, and I also get a lot of religious organizations asking for money, or Christ for the Nations magazines. For a while, and contributing to the strange aromas in the place (sorry to say), my aunt's "friend"/friend (we were never sure) lived here with her and Mamaw and whoever else. Apparently he was a gambler, because I also get weird sports-gambling mini mags with hot ladies on the cover. They creep me out a bit.
Recently, I got this little joy, which came in a light-blue box. I had ordered books for school from the internets and thought maybe it was one that came uber-quickly, then saw Mamaw's name on it and tossed it aside until this morning when I went through the pile of crap mail. I looked inside and...
Adult underwear. Disposable. Free sample. And coupon. Best piece of mail yet.
I smoke a pipe. And sometimes when I'm driving I get embarrassed about it and hide it at intersections so as to not face discrimination, or get a little anxious when I offer friends-who-don't-know a ride and it's sitting out in my car.
I pop all over-- joints, groin (I think?), pretty much you-name-it.
I give people at intersections/standing in the median dollars sometimes. Sometimes I avoid the intersection just so I don't feel guilty about not.
I'm a bit of a trichotillomaniac. But not on my head, and not to the serial-killer extent (I learned this term in a scary serial-killer-focused crim class I took). Mainly arm hairs.
I eat too much.
I especially eat too much and trichotillomania too much when I'm stressed. So I'm assuming, come master's project time, I will gain 15+ pounds and be arm-hair-less. Oh, and absolutely hate myself.
I procrastinate.
I like a clean house (and please, a clean kitchen), but my bedroom is most likely untidy and I have papers overflowing and my house is usually not tidy.
I miss my brother like shit-cry-crazy. And it'd be dream-like if my sister, bro-in-law, and niece and nephew lived here. Euphoria.
I get jealous. I get angry. I get defensive.
I don't understand people and their bias against the gays marrying. And am passionate about defending them.
I find myself uncomfortable around gay couples and I don't like it.
I'd rather not have a roommate. Though sometimes it's nice late at night knowing someone else is in the place with me (isolated in her bedroom, please).
I actually like school. But not the stress it brings or the self-motivated learning that's necessary. ugh. pfft. pshaw.
I like drinking alone. And with people.
I'm a bit nervous about posting this. Do I? Don't I? Why would I? Yet at this point I think I'm going to.
I go to therapy, weekly. And it's been a few years. And I recommend it.
I'm on anti-depressants.
I value independence but interdependence can be a damn nice thing.
I believe in a God. or god. I think, God. Well, god? Does the capitalization really measure significance.
Oooo I like the music I listen to. I wish I could take initiative and learn to play the guitar that's sitting right over there. (And these photos will be so much better when I get that iPhone later this month!)
I like hosting parties, but I like less going to parties.
I claim responsibility for too much.
I like being in control and knowing what's going to happen next. And/yet I also value spontaneity.
I was all about 'NSync when I was, like, 20.
I don't watch as much tv as I imagine myself to. And I don't remember things from movies/tv shows like other people can.
I like how I feel post-workouts. But once again, I'm a procrastinator. And I'm lazy. Remember high school? Yeah I don't ever want to go back there. But I wasn't lazy then. (But speaking of HS, I think everyone should go to their awkward high-school reunion. At least the first one. Because it's awkward, and you know it, and everyone knows it, and there's alcohol, and all of us are just as accomplished (and not) as we are. You can't fake it.)
I really like flavor-filled, uncommon (asterisk vegetarian and wheat-free) foods. But at home I mostly eat bland, salt-and-pepper things, like chips and beans, fruit and veg and cheese.
I don't know how I should end this. With some powerful, significant "something" I suppose. I'm not doing this for responses. [And I hope you don't associate me with someone else you know who writes personal diaries on the web. And I hope a different you-know-who doesn't take that statement as negative and back-stabbing to other said individual. 'Cause I don't mean it that way.] And it's more for me than you (begin Wilson Phillips' "Hold On" background music).
As a matter of fact:
(So hilarious. Brother, I'm imagining interpretive dancing with you and dag-gone loving it.)
1. "The fact of the matter is..." Listen. There is no fact in this opinion of yours. So stop saying it. (This one I owe to a past teacher I worked with who always said it in regards to some complaint and who also always wore those ugly velor track suits, which were too small and too short for her even though she was short, (oh and she also wore them with crocs) so I get flashbacks to that in addition to just being cranky at the phrase, which just adds to the irritation.)
2. "Make sure you..." This one is totally unnecessary. Just say the command, or whatever it is you're asking, and be done with it. Don't pretend nice.
3. "It's neither here nor there." Really? It's got to be somewhere. And you're saying it so I guess that means it is either here or there to you.
