Sunday, October 24, 2004

Someone asked me how I had changed in the last several years, and then actually stood and waited for an answer. I couldn't give one. I thought and hummed and hawed but I really could sum up whatever it is that's different in me then when I was sixteen. I know I'm different. I even know what some of those differences are. But it's only in my mind. I can't tell you how I've changed.
"Oh comon. You're the one that's so good with words"
*secretly happy* "No I'm not"
Anyway, I got away with saying I'd grown up a bit. But now it's bothering me, the not being able to put it into words. So I bring you this,
I've taken to chewing gum. Nothing new, dramatic, or surprizing about that. I carry it around in my purse (called artillery bag by my dear father). There are, however, several new and surprizing things that I only just realized. And it was sad.
I'm not constantly chewing it. Just, every now and then I'll say to myself, "self, you feel like some gum". This from the girl who never used to be able to make her chocolate Easter bunnies last longer then a few days. But now that gum sits in my purse and only comes out when the mood strikes.
This is what bothers me. I buy the stuff that slides out of the cardboard and comes in squares hardly bigger then smarties that rest in foil covered individual areas. You get the picture. I go for names like dentyne and excel. And every kind I buy is sugarless. I don't do it on purpose. But when I get around to looking it will inevitably state "sugar free". Take that sugar chick! I get flavours like cherry ice, cool spearmint, and *gasp* dentyne intense.
I don't know when this happens. I used to be the queen of bubbulicious. I had all the flavours listed in order of favouritness, starting with paradise punch and ending with lemonade. I would chew a pack at a time, letting it sit on the microwave overnight and making it last a week. I could blow bubbles bigger then my head. So large, in fact, that I would even impress myself. Now I actually throw the stuff away after one chewing and am content with a square at a time. Bubbles, whatever.
I very nearly used to snub the stuff I chew now. Hey, didn't only adults chew it in order to freshen their breath? You couldn't chew it. and bubbles were out of the question. What the heck was gum if not bubbles, sugar, and artificial flavour? Heck, the stupid mint "gum" near burned my mouth. the stuff wasn't even enjoyable!
So that why it scares me. Because that very nearly slipped by without me noticing. And, really, I think I like the idea of being a bubblicious self better.
But hey, I still buy the Juicy Fruit when I feel young and carefree. Small squares, yes. Sugarless, admittidely. But not a hint of mint!

Wednesday, October 20, 2004

I have about five minutes. That's all of enough time to say,
judo and hockey are tied as the world's best sports.
These are followed by volleyball and basketball,
which are followed by downhill skiing and snowboarding (hey, it's fun to watch).
Then, soccer.
So what if I can't play any of them. They're fun anyway. And it all depends on what mood I'm in.
Now, dare I be stupid enough to post such a stupid post?

Monday, October 18, 2004

Gossip is vicious. Yup we all know that. Gossip is evil, we know that too. And, we all know the argument that it's mentioned in the same sentence as murder when it comes to the bible.
So what is gossip? I have come to the conclusion that it's a deliberate tearing down of someone. There's the telling of facts, maybe it isn't right, but I don't think it's as wrong as malicious spreading of rumours. I live in a small town where "gossip" is rampant. I know everyone else's reputation. I know their weaknesses, what every one hates about them. What they think about them. I know who likes who, who's going out, who's breaking up. So and so smokes, what's 'is face is engaged, those people's wedding is off. Little tidbits float around. Sometimes I hear them later then most, sometimes earlier. Generally I hear someone's rendition of someone else's tale. People generally don't come up and tell me about themselves. I think they'de be smarter to. That way I know it, they know I know it, I know I've gotten facts, and they'de have control over my first immpressions.
I havn't done much worth whispering about. But I know bits of me get talked about to. What annoying traits I have. Why I am this way, what I should change. Weather or not I make good decisions, ect. And I'm even one of the least exciting people around. Not much in the way of scandals here, I'm afraid.
Then there's the real caring gossip. Where you actually want to help somebody (rare).
Or the helpful gossip (watch you belongings, 'cause he shoplifted from my mom's work).
Or the curious gossip (Did she, really? No. Wow.)
whatever of that qualifies as gossip, that is.
Everything is just generally discussed. And backs covered (but I don't think she could help it)(it's not his fault)(but...). Private opinions voiced (it's digusting)(That's something they didn't want to bring out)(Man, the kid is 15).
Everything is generally discussed. And it doesn't really bug me. A friend said "I gossip about everyone and I know they're gossiping about me." It would just be nice if, sometimes, people would just, you know, talk on occasion.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

Saturday, October 09, 2004

For some reason I'm not quite ready to go back to work tomorrow. Not that I reallyreally mind but it feels like it should be a day off. For whatever reason. It will look something like this.
2nd Thanksgiving dinner at friend's (Did John tell you I called?)
But I suppose I didn't really come on here to say that.
Thanksgiving. a few things to be thankful for (and only a few)
my family
my friends
my house
my car
my job
my freedom
my life
my health
days off
and much much more
2 things I wanted to share about work. Positive, of course.
1. When I go to bring in the mastitis cows there are two little calfs in the pen next to them who run up when they see me. I scatch their ears and then they suck my fingers. In a way it almost tickles and simply makes me chuckle in glee (plus, it helps that I'm usually mostly awake by this time)
2. I threw straw yesterday. And it was glorious. The sun started to come up. My breath was creating miniture clouds in the air. If felt so country and farmer. I got in the rythm. place hands, pick up, rotate, set down. It was just genuine, and alive. And somehow right with the world.
But now they want me to do hay tomorrow. To anyone who doesn't know, hay is a heck of a lot heavier.
Ah well. Thankfullness, Kris. Thankfullness.

Friday, October 01, 2004

My back is messed.
I was kneed so hard in judo that my crotch still hurts even though I'm female.
My arm has taken on a stiffness that I cannot explain.
One would think I was getting old, or something. But I'm not. No, I refuse to get old. Young and immature forever!
I live in a society that's fixtated with youth. Civilizations of that past and currently all over the world have respected their elders. Indeed, looked at them as fountains of wisdom. But not in twenty first century north America. Not in this era and society where computer edited faces stare at us from the check-out line. People go through mid-life crisis, women pump themselves full of botox. Aging men who can finally afford it buy themselves hot cars. Stick figures stride down the runway. Our aging, those who struggled to bring us to where we are now, are stuck in nursing homes.
We practically worship our youth. They're not expected to take on responsibility. Crimes they commit are hushed and covered up. They "hang out" wherever and wherever they like. Creative talents, limitless ability, and physical primness is often wasted because they aren't taught how to manage themselves. They aren't expected to be able to think for themselves.
I went to get a cell phone, but no, not possible without a parents signature. So onto the insurance place, where I needed to bring my Dad along again. I'm apparently not capable of knowing right from wrong or taking care of myself. I certainly can't own a house. Not even a full drivers license. All because I'm not yet nineteen.
Yet I can get an abortion and my parents need never know about it.
Something tells me I can thank my peers for all this distrust and stereotyping.
Pick any time in history up until the last hundred years. By now I would be expected to be married and have three kids. Please don't get shocked yet. I'm not trying to insinuate that girls should be packaged housewives by time they hit puberty. I'm just making the point that we are actually capable of more then graffiti and pre-marital sex free of responsibility. Just ask it of us. We've led armies into battle. Created works of art, written incredible music. We've changed time, pushed the norm. And we should. We're young, crammed full of energy, and not yet stuck in our ways.
It wasn't until the fifties when the term teenager even existed. By time you were old enough you were expected to "grow up". Yet somehow about the time we became advanced enough we allowed our young to fall into a new category. We don't need them to help at home or do the labour anymore. Maybe it's easier that way. Easier for them and easier for us. Stuck in highschool for eight hours a day where we are bored, brainwashed, and finally set free tired and sick of "being productive".
So we rebel. But what the heck do they expect?
Now that I've said all that, I really did love my teen years. And I think we should have a shot at that in between time where we're not kids but not quite adults. Just, please. Encourage us show what we've got. To learn where we can, and reap what we sow. And then don't be surprised to see us blossom.
Yes, I live in a society fixtated by youth. I fall into it so easy myself. No wonder we don't want to grow up.
And I refuse to. I'm invincible. Remember, I'm young!