Wednesday, October 13, 2010


Toast and I do not get along.

For a moment I wondered if I should blame the toaster and not the toast. I put in soft, lovable, bland bread and it comes out crunchy, hot and all around upset at its treatment. But the toaster is just doing its job, it can't help it if I stuff various objects into its orifices and play around with its buttons and knobs until I'm satisfied. The toast could take the high road. It could understand that it is its destiny to be crunchy and delicious instead of harnessing the power of its anger to gain revenge.

Silly you say?

I decided that toast and I are locked in battle just a few days ago. All I wanted was two pieces of toast. Sure, I was a little rough spreading on the butter and maybe there was a bit too much pepper or garlic powder, but I never claimed to the bread that I would be gentle during our brief tryst. So perhaps I abused the carbohydrate; I apologize. But I could have shown it no care and stuffed it in to the toaster without any preparation for its metamorphosis.

Here is exhibit A in my case that toast hates me. The smell of it makes me nauseous. Not all toast mind you, if you'd like to slip a nice piece of French baguette into my slots I'm happy to let you. But Wonder Bread holds no wonder at all. The smell of air and chemicals crisping up into a recipe so basic an ancient drunk must have thought it up. It doesn't sit well with my stomach and I know the toast knows this. I also know that the toast is in cahoots with eggs for an early morning onslaught against my senses. But the eggs are another story entirely.

So I was hasty in my preparation of the squares of soon to be food. I admit it. But I carefully slipped them into the toaster without any trouble and proceeded to prepare a wonderful batch of leftover meatballs to be eaten with my toast to be. The toaster popped, I eagerly went to check my prize, but it hadn't finished. I took the care to turn each piece around to evenly cook and urged the appliance into another round. I knew the cycle could not be finished, yes, I knew. And I knew that I had been distracted and I knew that I needed to multitask and I didn't. So I do owe the toast an apology.

Exhibit B, the toast did not wait for me. The phone rang and the doctor's called to remind me of an upcoming appointment; very considerate, yes? My thoughts were on the bread with the butter bubbling and crusting over and the scent of garlic that was becoming charred. I made the phone call as quick as I could...but by the time I returned to the box of hell fire the damage had been done. And the toast could have prevented it, I know it could have waited.

I was upset, but didn't have the heart to throw out the toast. I was being nice! Yes I had to take a knife of scrape away the burned remains of the hastily applied seasonings and yes I can understand how the toast might not take well to being skinned alive. But it was going to be eaten! Why couldn't it understand its job? The toast was placed on top of the meatballs on my plate and content with my meal I returned to my computer to nom.

Exhibit C, the toast used gravity against me. I was careful! I set the plate down, moved to get something I cannot remember in my grief and when I turned around all I could see were the two squares falling to their doom on my dirty bedroom floor. I would have appreciated them, I would have loved them, but instead they chose to run away and leap into the great beyond.

I was forced to make another set of seasoned toast, which I admit behaved perfectly well and were extremely delicious. Maybe I should not be so upset with the toast. But this is not the first time it has taken to a suicidal jump instead of the safety of my mouth. It has burned me, it has burned itself, it has left crumbs in the bottom of the poor toaster that is just doing their job to burn when it isn't expected.

At times I wonder if I should blame the toaster. Perhaps as it cooks my bread it whispers sweet nothings to it, persuading it to do its bidding once it is freed from its grasp. I have valid reasons for this. I can make toast in the oven fine, bake it, perhaps use the broiler, I even experienced toasting bread in a pan just today and it was very good. I can also make a grilled cheese like nobodies business.

I will be more careful now as I approach the toaster with my hope for a meal. I will gently push down its handle and clean it when the crumb tray over flows. I will thank it for its work and I will offer it praise for the lovely toast it can provide. Maybe then it will allow my toast to come to me as innocent as it was when it entered its depths.

Or perhaps this is what the toast wants me to think.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Random thoughts for myself

I don't quite know why I decided to write here. I don't like knowing that this will be read by others, if only a few. I don't like the idea of my thoughts out in the open to be picked at. But I don't get to explain myself anywhere else or express how I feel. Writing that I know how gothic and dark it sounds; like the girl in the back of study hall that played with scissors in inappropriate ways. It's not like that. I have a good life and I'm happy, but I feel trapped. I know how that too sounds like some overused emo phrase, it probably is.

I'm a cheerful person. I've been socially stunted but I'm not a basement shut-in afraid of the world. I want to be out there. Whenever I do go out is when I realize how much I want to see and do and how little of it I get to accomplish. My outings have consisted of grocery store trips, doctor visits and drives to my campus. That's it. There may be the rare restaurant visit (difficult for reasons I might get to here) or a stop at a movie theatre to see something interesting. Not a few weeks rare, or months rare, years at times. The first time I've accomplished either of those two things has happened recently and I've found it bittersweet.

I don't have any friends. I'm not blind or attempting to cut off acquaintances from becoming more. I don't have a one. Not in real life, not someone I can laugh with, spend time with, talk about my troubles with. I know people online and have someone very special to me through the internet. But it's times when I feel like this that I wish I could pick up the phone and call someone, maybe leave my home for some time to get an ice cream and talk. Isn't that terrible? My dream is that stupid summer movie on Lifetime where kids grow and change and sit on random swing sets together. I want that more than anything.

And right now that desire is at its worst. I'm between the world of imagination that sustained me for so many years and the harsh reality of life. I can't close my eyes and again the same sense of complete comfort from an imaginary hug or smile. Closing my eyes brings deeper thought and a focus on the truth; I'm alone. Again it sounds so depressing, I need to get a hold of whichever emo copyrighted all of these words.

So I'm crying now and I cried yesterday and I cried a day or two before that. I'm not a crier. The only person I have any physical contact with is my mother...though I suppose 'nearby' contact would be more appropriate I can't remember the last time we touched let alone hugged. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. The problem comes when being alone has affected me so greatly. I don't trust others, I have little quirks, I just need to understand my environment and what's going to happen. It makes me feel comfortable, safe.

And I've never found any of them to be too difficult. A glass might need to be rewashed because it fell flat on the counter or an overused sponge make me nervous. I have a fear of nausea, of stomach aches. My little quirks have become the strongest in the kitchen. I need to know what to expect, it's so uncommon to be cooked for I'm thrown off when my plans are disrupted by a favor. I get nervous if I have seen an ingredient in the fridge for too long, too long by my perspective. It could have been two days, I could be imagining two weeks. I need to see things, know their safe, know that the kitchen is clean and ready. And then I'm fine. It takes all of ten minutes and I'm embarrassed and I apologize and I wonder why I've yet to stop. I know in time I will. I used to flash a light at my door a dozen times before I could fall asleep, certain something might be lurking just past my line of vision. And one day I realized I wasn't doing it. It was a relief and felt good and hasn't happened again. I just need to work it out of my system.

Sometimes I'm told it's okay, that she went through the same things as a kid. The next day she'll get angry because I don't trust her. I don't. When ingredients have been switched on you and you know someone doesn't wash their hands and all your stress is currently put towards what goes in you...I don't trust her. And I try to explain and she gets upset. I try to apologize and let her know how it's all processed in my mind. And the outcome is obvious, I wouldn't be sitting here typing and wasting tissues if it wasn't.

So I'm writing. I can imagine people reading this and caring whether they post a response or not. Hell, I'd prefer not to hear people's thoughts on my terrible quirks. In my mind this shouldn't be happening, I shouldn't be crying, I shouldn't care. I'm not a fan of emotions. I believe this will be a strange connection between the imaginary world I loved and the life that's troubling me. I'll imagine people reading and feel open; like free therapy. And at the same time it really is out there, not some personal journal to be tucked away between pictures of naked men and anime characters.

I think I'm done, I think I'm feeling better. I hope I can go downstairs and get something to eat because I'm hungry and don't have much time until work. My mom threatened to not finish and I have a feeling she didn't. If the half finished meal wasn't covered either then I can't do the rest...another quirk after the odd fruit fly showed up in the kitchen. I'll try and make rice in time and warm up leftovers; good leftovers, I'm not trying to complain. I'll hope that tomorrow when we plan to go grocery shopping I can get my list, the food that will eat until my check that has yet to come because so much money has gone to cigarettes and wine. Overall I feel weighted down, exhausted. I need to be somewhere else so I can settle my habits and live. Another dream, one that's more normal I suppose since so many young adults want to leave the house.

I also had a dream that my favorite pair of yellow checkered underpants suddenly had lights on them that I realized I never noticed. I can't remember if they tried to attack me but I dreamt squirrels in my house as well. I think squirrels could be very scary if upset.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Test Post of DESU

Alright, first post! Feel free to ignore it. I am jumping on the band wagon and starting a blog. Not that I don't like it, I planned to do something to record my adventure into the medical field and this is as good as any idea! Who knows, people might even read it...We'll see.

For now this blog will record the AMAZINGLY interesting life of a very stern shut-in of a student who is glued to technology 16 hours of the day and enjoys a minimum of 8 hours of sleep a night. But that's not all! I am currently in the dazzling field of customer service for an unnamed flower distributor that has a very catchy phone number. This does not interfere with my shut-in lifestyle; I work out of my home and am able to wallow in the benefits of earning money naked without the risk of venereal disease.

As my profile says I am, indeed, a woman. I am also a geek which is why I did not list the music, movies, and books I like because it would only cause a great deal of confusion. I am happy with my geekhood and plan to uphold it for plenty of time to come. As an example DESU is a word used in the Japanese language, used in many animes for cute girly characters...I am not a cute girly character and I am afraid that if I go into an explanation of the flamboyantly gay grim reaper who wields a chainsaw and has inspired my use of the word I would scare away any potential reader before the blog is even in motion.

I think that's enough of my mind out in the open for now. I expect my personal flamboyant reaper will make sure I continue posting on this so lets see if I catch any interest!