Times, They Are A' changin'!

So things are going quite a bit better since I last wrote. I'm starting a third job in two weeks, I'm moving into my new apartment in the beginning of August, and I'm getting my GED after that, and starting college as soon as I find a better paying job to support myself with. I'm quite a lot better lately. I won't have much free time to play this summer, but that's okay. I'm back in the saddle, and that's all that matters. Cidney and I are back to being best friends, and I'm perfectly content with that at the moment. Everything is going okay in my life, I guess. Not much else to report, but thought I'd share.

Unemployment Blues

     Well, we're wrapping up June, and hopefully also, the June blues. It's been a whole two months since I was last employed. You would think that, as a teenager, I am stoked about this. However, I am not. I'm broke, and that means no new clothes. That also means I am about to lose a bunch of weight. I thought being jobless would be a nice break. It always takes awhile to find a job. But this, this is too long. Instead of the break I pictured, a lovely, sunny vacation filled with sipping lemonade at the beach, it's been more of a...well, let's just say afternoon is the new morning, and boxer shorts and tee shirts are the new version of being dressed.
     June was, to be blunt, boring. Summer vacation always starts bad. When July is born, panic is also born, and summer becomes worth something. This summer, especially, is panic-filled and depressing. This is the last summer I'll ever have school after. Well, except college..but that's just not the same. I'll never have to go school shopping again. I'll never have to get lunch money again. I'll never have to worry about remembering a locker combination. That's scary. No, it's TERRIFYING. I'm about to become an adult, and it's not fun. At all. I had a job that, while I hated it, it was still a job. I was still given currency in exchange for services. And I need that again. There is nothing more degrading, humiliating, depressing, and downright sad than me without a job. It's horrid. I am just a bum sitting around. I don't see myself as anything important. So, that's all of June. Me applying for jobs, me feeling like crap. 
     Also, I hung out with Cidney a lot. You know, the whole feeling crappy thing? Yeah. Before we got together, I had quite a lot to offer. I was at least passing most things, that employment thing was full swing, and I was still motivated. When school let out, everything kind of fell apart, and I became lame. So now, all that I had to offer, I need to go fishing for, because it's in the toilet. I am now SUPER BUM! 
     Coming up in a few days is JULY. Which means fireworks and barbecues and, hopefully, swimming. I've been craving it. I've only been swimming once so far, and Tatum tried to drown me. And I was pre-occupied with being really ticked. Grandma's birthday is coming, which means I get to see her. I miss the crap out of my grandma. I'm not used to not being around her constantly. She used to text me and call me multiple times a day to ask for help with things. Now she's a couple hours away, and I really miss being needed! I could always count on Grandma to make me feel useful. 
     Another thing that's happening in July...my mom's coming. *twilight zone theme plays* Yes, that means I have to see her. For a week. And then, I have to hang out with the kids for ANOTHER week. I'm panicking. My mom. I managed to go get the only two people in the universe that it is IMPOSSIBLE to impress, as parents. And, since I've been extremely unimpressive lately, I feel there may be impending drama and tense, awkward, forced conversation. Joy to the world. But, I'll deal with it, because I really missed my siblings. More people that needed me. You know, to have someone to take them to the park and give them junk food and whatnot. 
     Basically, the moral of the past few months...it's nice to be needed, and I need a job. Woot :) 

I'm going away for awhile.

     I'm going to stay in Elkhorn for a day or a few days or a long time or I don't know how long really, but who cares, I'm leaving. That's my run-on sentence for the day. I have decided I'm sick of being in or near Lincoln, so I need some family time with my favourite five-year-old, and my favourite Arlene. Oh, and my favourite Uncle Matt, too. So that's awesome.

     I've talked to Cidney for probably a combined time of 30 minutes in the last four days. So that's awesome.

     I  saw a picture dad put on Facebook of me from yesterday, and promptly untagged myself. Not because it's a bad picture in general, but because I'm disgusted with the fact that I have gotten EXTREMELY fat in the last year. So that's awesome.

     My XBOX and I are having a somewhat estranged love-hate relationship lately. We aren't friends, but I use it when I'm bored. I think it senses this, and has decided to demand reboot in the middle of a game on occasion so I'll spend more time with it. Obligatory XBOX time. So that's awesome.

     My room looks like a scene from The Terminator. I need to clean it. I'm pretty sure there's a few homeless people taking shelter in my mountain of clothes and magazines. So that's awesome.

     My dad is now skinnier AND more attractive than me. So that's awesome.

     I smell like a lake, and I found sand in my underwear that I did not put there. Dad took the bath last night because he "had to go to bed" (we got home at 7) so I didn't get to take one. It's definitely time. I smell like friggin' Long John Silver's. So that's awesome.

     I don't know where my wallet is, and I have a week of service left on my phone. I also have JUST under what I need to pay for it. I think it's time to start dealing narcotics. So that's awesome.

     I lost my Alice In Chains pick that I caught at the concert. At Amanda's. I'll never see it again. So that's awesome.

     I have no life and I need to get out more. AWESOME.

Some Days Don't Go As Well As Others

     Well, guys, it's been awhile. I don't know what's new, really. The other day, while driving home, Cidney looked at her phone and said "oh, happy two month." So it's been two months. I'm glad she doesn't care too much about individual months, because I don't either.
     With her, everything's going fine. Aside from that, though, things are rough. I'm pretty alone most of the time. I don't have anyone to talk to. When I call people, I get answering machines. It's always a bad time. I've been really craving family lately. Unfortunately, I don't see anyone much. This summer has been just...kind of bad. I haven't left the house more than to go to town. I miss hanging out with Mo and Kenny and the kids. I've really been missing Adrienne. It's weird. I always figured I'd be the only one to get up and go away, getting old enough and everything. I never thought I'd lose so many important people in my life. I miss Saturdays like they used to be, before everything changed. Those Saturdays saved me. 

Butt Goblins in the Night

For some reason, I've been convinced that every noise in my house that takes place at night is, in fact, a ghost or a monster, about to attack me. Every shadow, every creak, every slam, every footstep-sounding noise, and, of course, every coyote or owl outside.

I live out in the middle of nowhere, and it gets really dark and really windy. The wind makes it through the cracks in my window, making really loud whistling noises. Every time the dog moves or takes a step, the floor shakes, which makes my gigantic sliding double doors shake, which, despite the fact that I am basically a grown person, makes me shake like a leaf and yank the covers over my head. 

We also have a door in the kitchen that leads to the garage that has no handle. The wind gets in through the side door and blows it open and sucks it shut, making big slams. I also now refuse to get out of bed in the middle of the night unless it's an emergency and I have to. I pass too many un-curtained windows for my liking, and I'm convinced that, out of each and every one of them, I'm going to see a horrific demon or ghost or butt goblin or something staring back at me. 

I also recently discovered that, when my dog needs to go outside in the middle of the night, he makes a noise that sounds extremely similar to a raspy old man saying, "Hello?" The first time I realized this, I called my dad, waking him up, telling him to get downstairs immediately. I do not feel bad, as I probably would've wet the bed out of sheer terror had I not called him. 

It's gotten so bad that, instead of falling asleep in the with all the lights off and nothing but quiet and house/animal noises, I put on a movie to fall asleep to. Always a funny one. Who dies watching a funny movie? It's always someone listening to Hank Williams or something. So I avoid country music at all costs, and pop in some Seth Rogen movies or some American Pie or something, and shake like a leaf until I finally fall asleep. 

You know...I slept with a night light until I was nine or so, and I slept with a radio until I was thirteen. I was always scared of the dark, and I imagine I didn't grow out of it because my dad would wait until I was almost asleep and throw a dark blanket over himself, limping into my room and making scary noises. Sometimes, he would hit the deck and quickly crawl. His goal in life was to terrify me for his own amusement, at all ages and points of my life. So, yes. I'm still afraid of the dark.

Guys, did I mention I'm seventeen?

Vacuuming is hard

Yesterday, I took on the chore that is usually reserved for the one who spilled something on the floor, or who tracked dirt in. The chore I dislike ALMOST as much as doing dishes. I vacuumed. I dislike this chore, not because it is difficult, but because my vacuum is faulty. It smells like burning lint when it runs, it makes noises that make me wonder how long I have left before it blows up in my face, sending shards of whatever was in our carpet into my brain. So, long story short, I hate vacuuming. But I did it. I did my entire room, even making sure to get up the hay that was on the carpet due to a little pet problem. I stopped, feeling victorious, and decided to take the rest of the afternoon off, right after I put the vacuum away. I bounced up the stairs as bouncily as someone can while lugging a 60 pound hunk of heavy-duty plastic. I happily wound the cord up and set it at the top of the stairs. When I got back downstairs, I was awestruck by the mounds of dirt forming a perfect trail from where I turned off the vacuum, all the way up the stairs. There may have been cursing, and throwing of shoes involved. I trudged up the stairs and got the vacuum. I reassembled the hose and took to diligently sucking up all the dirt and lint and, yes, even hay. When I finished, I turned it off with a grunt and smiled smugly. Surely, that did it. I lifted up the vacuum, and again, dirt was clumped underneath. I screamed and beat the vacuum against the wall, flinging dirt everywhere. I came to the conclusion that it was time to take apart the trusty sucker, and find the problem. Now, I like to think I know a lot about machines. Even machines shat from the bowels of hell, like the one I was working on. But, I have never been so confused in my life. I gulped and decided to just pick around, unclogging this and that. I got a huge clump of hay out from the internal hose, after quite a struggle. I picked up the pieces I had scattered everywhere and put them back where I assumed they went. I stood up and turned on the vacuum. For a few seconds, it ran smoothly. I smiled, pleased with my work. There's nothing greater than the sense of accomplishment that comes from completing a difficult task that-oh, yeah...then I heard the snap. There was a loud pop, a grinding noise, and suddenly, a cloud of black smoke erupted from under the vacuum. I screamed, turned it off, and did a nose-dive behind the couch. As my vacuum coughed and gagged, I was in a fetal position awaiting my demise. Death by vacuum. Well, I waited what was probably 5 or 10 minutes and worked up the nerve to peek out. No more smoke, no more noises. I JUST WANTED TO VACUUM.

So far.

I slept last for an hour last night. Well worth it, I'm just a bit tired. Dad and I got into three fights, a record high, this morning. The first was about the garbage. The second, laundry. The third, whether he was going to leave me at grandma's or school. Reluctantly, he complied with my forceful request to bring me to school after much screaming at each other. I waited outside the library for an hour waiting for the librarians to unlock the door. I was greeted by a pat on the had and a "scan in, honey." I looked down to see that my ID was NOT in its normal place around my neck. I now owe another 5 dollars for another ID. Also well worth it.
     I also have a craving for pineapple. No significance to this post though...