Cynicism

I recently found myself watching a video talking about how when you are younger you imagine yourself as a different adult than what you actually become, because your perception of what constitutes adulthood changes as you move into the age where larger society considers you an adult. While I understood the point made (my mom always says things about still not feeling like an adult) I found that this was not at all my experience. Thinking about how I've always envisioned myself, I realize that what I'd thought I'd be like is really not that far off from the truth. It's sort of ridiculous, but I always thought of myself as some sort of single independent woman, bohemian and all, living in an apartment with brick walls and an exposed beam ceiling, and green glass bottles against a window. This is a big part of the reason that I tried to be a vegetarian in 7th grade. Not because I had some huge guilt or political agenda about eating animals, but because it fit into the type of person I wanted to be. I'm not sure just how shallow this is. Probably a little bit shallow.

Over the past four years or so, I've become fairly comfortable in my single living stance. Not that I want to be single forever, but in the "God if I'm going to be single forever, that's completely OK, you know, just as long as I know" way. I also have become pretty comfortable living in Troy, and I can't imagine being willing to move somewhere for someone. That someone would have to mean quite a bit to me. I would have to love him more than Troy. It could happen, I suppose. I mean..... it isn't an impossibility.

For a hot second I allowed myself to get swept up and lose my callousness. No more.

Someone posted a twitpic of Daria on DVD. I've been searching for this show on DVD since TV on DVD was first a popular thing. I love Daria. I decided to look up some old episodes on the internet. They weren't too hard to track down.

Ever since I was young I looked up to snarky, cynical, sarcastic women. My favorite Christmas song was always Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses. Ladies like Daria, Margarate Cho and Janeane Garafalo inspired me in the nineties. More recently we've got the sass of Jenny Lewis, and the dry deadpan wit of Zooey Deschanel. I've always been one of those ladies who get along with guys better than with other ladies, but this kind of lady really appeals to me.

I think this has to do with a lot of factors. I'm sure my family dynamic had something to do with it. Though my dad might have been the breadwinner, my mom certainly wore the pants. When I picture myself in my ideal job, I think of my favorite art class in high school and replace my favorite art teacher with myself. My favorite art teacher, of course, being a guy. I knew plenty of female art teachers, but I never envision myself doing things like they do them. I don't know that I picture myself as a guy, but rather, that I see myself as genderless in those situations.

When I pictured myself, I never really imagined what sort of career I'd pursue or what sort of education I'd have, but allow me to be conceited for a moment and say that with finishing up my Master's degree, I feel that the type of articulate discussion I am able to have, the cutting way in which I am able to defend my point, the depth with which I am familiar with my interests, this fits in very well with who I had hoped to be. Sarcastic women are smart women are strong women.

My mom always encouraged me to be the type of person I want to be, but at some point she started worrying out loud that my outward appearance might scare off boys. My stance has always been that if they wouldn't want to date me because I have short hair, I probably wouldn't want to date them either. It's like a douchebag filter.

I start to worry that having such a jaded personality will be more of a wall than a filter, but if other people have gotten past it to break it down in the past, I suppose I shouldn't be worried that such things won't happen in the future.

With A Tree / The Idea of Me.

Sometimes, 25 feels almost like 30.

I don't cry for you, I cry for me.

Remember when I used to blog personal things privately in a coded way?

Oh, livejournal.

Worth revisiting: the first thing ever on this blog.

a realization

I hate change.

I hate sharing things.

I just realized I should never get married.

I'm not allowed to tell you this,

If I've agreed not to tell anyone something, does that indicate that I won't tell the specifics or I won't tell the story? I'm going to take, in this case, it to mean the specifics. So I won't tell you the specifics. (Do I ever? That seems like a good way to never get a job and maybe get sued).

I subbed today. Surprise, surprise. I woke up right when my alarm clock went off, feeling totally awake. I knew I had enough time to go back to sleep, and even though I was wide awake, I took advantage of the half hour. When I woke up, I didn't exactly have enough time to make lunch, so I threw these things in a bag: a container of cottage cheese, a raspberry yogurt, almond butter, jelly, a loaf of italian bread, and a muffin and a half. I don't have a ton of money. Ever. I got a statement about my taxable income from the past...8? years, and I don't quite understand why I don't qualify for food stamps. It's got to be well below the poverty level. Even I was surprised at how little I earned last year, subbing full time and all. So sometimes I'll splurge and get all the ingredients to make a very involved dinner, and sometimes I just eat a lot of beans or toast (but not beans on toast, though I hear that's a regular English snack [breakfast?]). When I arrive at the school I don't have time to put my lunch in the fridge, which is concerning because, as you'll recall, I packed dairy products. It was actually a few hours before I had a chance to do this. By this time, I had eaten the half a muffin. I went to the teachers lounge and put the cottage cheese, the yogurt, the jam and the almond butter in the fridge. I put the whole muffin in my bag, and left the loaf of bread (in its bag in a shopping bag) on the counter. Before I left I noticed a giant ziploc bag of Halloween candy on the counter. Sometimes people leave stuff for you to nibble on. I helped myself to one of the tiniest candy bars ever. The bag was mostly filled with malted milk balls, which I hate. I never understood why people would pay extra to ruin their milkshake like that, and I never got the appeal of the candy. There was one additional tiny candy bar in the bag, and I fought myself for a good thirty seconds before deciding to eat it. I've never been a big fan of finishing up things that aren't mine.

I had felt a little foolish making a point to put my lunch in the fridge at that time, as it would be hardly an hour before I'd be eating it, but oh well.

I went back to the teachers' lounge at lunchtime, and noticed the bag of candy gone. I didn't think anything of this, maybe whoever was sharing decided not to share anymore. I got out my yogurt and my cottage cheese and then realized something else was missing --- my loaf of bread. I've been eating a lot of bread since I bought this loaf. That is to say, I've probably consumed 6-8 pieces of toast, and somehow, the loaf is still larger than most of the smooshy square loaves you find. So, most of a loaf of bread, in its bag in a grocery store bag is no where to be found. I look in the fridge, poking each and every plastic bag contained within. None of them contain a loaf of bread. I look atop the fridge, on the table and counters and in every single one of the cabinets. I stop and think about the steps I'd taken just in case I'd left it somewhere else.

Nope. Definitely left it there.

I find a piece of paper. I write a note. I try to sound as non-accusatory as possible:

TO WHOEVER RELOCATED MY LOAF OF BREAD:

PLEASE RETURN IT OR LET ME KNOW WHERE YOU'VE PLACED IT. I'M SUBBING FOR [such and such a teacher].
EMILY (11/4)

I'M POOR AND HUNGRY, THEY DON'T PAY SUBS TOO WELL! :)

I told the other adult who was working in the room with me. This other adult was furious. This other adult lacks confidence in the trustworthiness of the rest of the faculty and staff. This other adult acknowledged that where I left my bread is commonly read as "up for grabs."

During an afternoon break, I took out a book. A member of the administration poked in the room, asking how my day was going.

"Pretty good, except that someone took my bread...." I really didn't want this to go unnoticed. I was already formulating my blog / facebook status / twitter post about it.

I was angry.

(Dear Thief at Such and such a school. Stealing a loaf of bread? Seriously? They have GOT to pay you more than me. If they don't, I suggest seeking employment elsewhere)

"I heard!!!" the member of the administration replied, voice containing sheer concern.

I described the specifics of the loaf. Italian. Sliced. From that bakery in that town (in case it was spotted).

Soon after, the other adult in the room with me returns, having somehow been filled in on the details of my missing loaf. It feels really pathetic at this point to make such a big deal out of a two dollar loaf of bread, but it wasn't just my lunch. It was my breakfast, lunch, dinner, on and on. It was the vehicle for all the condiments that make up 75% of the food contained within my refrigerator.

The other adult in the room is a fan of italian bread. This makes the crime more heinous. The other adult in the room presses a five dollar bill in my hand. I insist that this isn't neccessary, fight it, try to give it back. I finally give in , pocketing this bill. I tell TOAITR that the bread only costs $2, but TOAITR insists that I deserve two loaves. Soon, TOAITR and I run across the principal, who has also heard about the bread antics. The principal reaches into a pocket, saying "please let me buy you another loaf." I inform the principal that TOAITR has already done so, but no one really needed to do that, I just wanted to get my original loaf back. The principal apologizes profusely, and then asks that I please not tell anyone about this.

So I feel like maybe I'm cheating the principal, but maybe not including the story would cheat the subbing portion of my blog. And I'm going to assume that what the principal was concerned about was the story being linked to the (forever unnamed) school.

It's been a tired, cranky week.It's worse when there isn't food to be had. Going to bed hungry results in difficulties waking up.

Do you think I was getting paid back for eating those candy bars?

Do you think my house got egged because I refused to answer my door on Halloween even though I was clearly home? (I didn't have any candy! Or maybe I was egged because some kids hate me because I'm a sub and they know where I live? Or maybe I was egged by that guy in the Jeep because I honked at him?)

Happy Halloween, loser.

In which Emily Is. Not. Scared. and reads some Poe to her cat, in continuing of a several year long tradition.

Labor Day Vlog: OK Cupid Fail

Most of the messages I receive on OKCupid qualify for Epic Fail status. For some reason, no one understands that you need to have some respect for the English language and at least a 12th grade writing level for me to respond.



Ally: are those Juggalo tattoos, or just painful ones?

Marrying into a family.

This past Sunday, my cousin who lives in Utah proposed to his girlfriend in front of Robert Indiana's LOVE statue in NYC. As they were up for the weekend, his new fiancé got a chance to meet all the uncles, and I have to say I was a bit embarrassed at the racist, homophobic and crude behavior that I do normally find myself cringing at. I apologized to her for this, and her fiancé, my half Korean, stylish, polite cousin Jeffrey quipped "I don't know how they even talk to me." It is the sort of family where boys were threatened at a young age: "if you EVER call me up and tell me you're a fag, I won't EVER speak to you again!"


On a slightly pathetic, faintly self-loathing note, I was again considering what it would be like to marry into a family. That is, could I marry the only single, only brother, so that I, too, could bear that proud name? If the only single, only brother even lived within 100 miles, I could consider this further.