"I hope you have a wonderful day. And stumble upon a hundred-dollar bill beside the road. Or possibly a dead hooker with thousands of dollars in cash." -my best friend's way of wishing me well.

yes, this is for me.

Sometimes I forget how much I am loved.

"Stuff like that makes me think of the Saints, back in the time of no running water and those leprosy people. No, it's true though."
-my friend Dominic on, I think, hardship?

...hahahaha. leprosy people.

Fresh outta batteries, but STILL MAKIN' NOISE, MAKIN' NOISE!!!!!!

I love that part.

Anyway. Running on, once again, very little sleep with alot to do. Of course this all seems very counter-productive since I'm tired and therefore move more slowly, but I do find that I am occasionally more forward-moving when I am in this state. I don't trust myself at all, but at least something will happen.

This morning: gym membership secured for three months. God-awful costly, but worth it because if I pony up that much dough I'm almost sure to take advantage of it, even if it is only 30 minutes after work in the morning. Worked out fairly well for me today, it seems that only middle aged ladies and weight-lifting obsessed dudes use the gym in the early mornings. I also now have access to the pool and the aerobics classes, but I will not use those. I hate fitness classes. Evil things. Nasty things. But anyway. If I can stick to this semi-schedule-- going to work, getting off work, going to gym, showering, writing/reading, errand-running (as needed), returning home for sleep and then awaking at 9 to leave for work again, all will be well (and all manner of things will be well). This will of course take some getting used to, because once again I have returned to my usual method of coping with overnights which amounts to sleeping all day, especially now that most of my cohabitaters (tors?) have left me for christian camp and i am thus left alone most of the time. mmm. which i enjoy, don't get me wrong, however there is nothing left to motivate me to NOT sleep all of the time. And oversleeping is just as bad as undersleeping.

Undersleeping?

I was just talking to my friend on the phone and for the life of me could not say "groundbreaking." Exhaustion symptom, methinks.

Last night another lady fell. She rolled right out of bed. I peeked into her room to check on her only to see that she had vanished (impossible, as she doesn't walk). And voila. She had rolled all the way off of her bed, taking all of her covers with her. Which is actually kind of funny. Except it's not because she bumped her head something terrible. I hate that. I hate seeing them like that. I hate writing out the reports. I hate feeling somewhat responsible somehow. It makes me feel insecure in my work. I hate feeling like I'm doing something wrong. Too much responsibility. I shrink from that.

In fact today must be my responsibility refusal day. I've been trying to find a repair shop for my poor car who seems to be having alternator trouble, but strangely EVERY place in Dickinson is booked. BOOKED? Car places? I am NOT used to hearing that. How is that possible? I get not today, but not until the 20TH?! Shocking. Altogether shocking. I do not know what I shall do as Ringo is now clouding the curb of my workplace and they're bound to notice at some point or another (but I can't drive him home, as that might seriously eff him up). Anyway, the process of doing this and all of these other stupid grown up things is making me so cantankerous today. I don't want to deal. I want to be Peter Pan, damnation. Just go away and let me fly! And eat the food that I want to eat! And spend as much money as I want! Don't make me PLAN and do grown-up crap.

....

baaah.

There's nowhere to hide, everyone out here is so high.

Last night was my first Independence Day spent by myself. I think, anyway, for the past few years I've spent the holiday with some surrogate family or another, eating an ungodly amount of food and "oohing" and "aaahing" at the Ventura fireworks, which, incidentally, have been declining in quality as time goes by. Or maybe their magic is just lost on me now. Anyway, I'm starting to realize maybe I'm not that much of a holiday person, I would probably be fine just passing over most of them, but last night reminded me of how thrilling Independence Day actually is. Even though I didn't eat very much food (cheetos) and got punched in the eye by an old lady.

Amanda and many of the family members I cohabitate with departed for a Lutheran church camp on Sunday, leaving me by myself for the 4th (there's one daughter left, and grandma and the parents, but I didn't want to encroach on their funsies. and I don't know them very well, weirdly), with work starting at 10. I slept for much of the day, avoiding the heat of peak hours, then put on some blue eye shadow and my friend's "greek week" t-shirt (yeah, let all the north dakotans think I'm a sorority girl..) and forayed out into Dickinson to see if I could find some fireworks. Some asking around directed me to the parking lot near the community center. It faces the athletic field of the college here which is apparently where the show happens. I got there around 8, downed my caffeine intake for the night and waited as I watched the whole area fill up with cars.

Now, apparently the way they do it here isn't so much selecting a single spot to set off fireworks from. What they do instead is set off fireworks down the entire street, on both sides. So you have many fireworks going on in front of you, behind you, and down the street, rather than a giant cluster of big fireworks going off in the center of the sky.

THIS. WAS. MAGIC.

On top of this, the locals don't really care so much about safety rules, so they bring their own fireworks/crackers, and set them off at will to match the other fireworks. So you have a bunch of sparklers, crackers, and those amazing floating lights (much like tiny, glowing hot air balloons) being released constantly and throughout the show. On top of THIS, you have people still driving down the street, adding their flurry of headlights and cheers to the brigade. One man in a giant red truck even attached a huge American flag to his truck bed and then proceeded to drive back and forth up the street as if he were a part of a parade. Kids were running all over the place, every corner of the street was populated, and I was just filled with so much joy and excitement. It felt like, for the first time since I was eight, probably, like the fireworks were really magic again. The rocket's red glare. The bombs bursting in air. Of course, it did bring to mind the anthem, which always, admittedly, brings tears to my eyes. The fact that we choose to celebrate our hard-won independence* with actual rockets is such an appropriate tradition.

Anyway. I sat on the hood of my car (actually, Amanda's car, as mine is broken at present), watching the gorgeousness and listening to the appropriate music I could summon up on my outdated ipod-- American Pie and American Trilogy by Elvis Presley-- which, by the way, makes for a GRAND fireworks-watching soundtrack. At about 9:45 I had to tear myself away and drive to work, and as I did I discovered to my delight that the relentless North Dakotans did not stop with the athletic field/street/land. There were fireworks everywhere. I rolled the windows down and let them chase me.

I don't care if Old Terror punched me in the face. I love it here anyway.

*(and I'm not just talking about the revolutionary war. it's my perspective that we are actually a pretty violent country, but also that if something is not worth being at least WILLING to fight for then there is little point to life. I feel like we are STILL fighting for freedom and for the power to remain united. I feel like now more than ever the country is ripping at the seams and there is so much in-fighting and hatred within that the greatest risk we face is falling apart. I like to think we can stick with it. I like to think about that farmer in the dust bowl of the 30's, looking over the land and saying "Yeah, times are hard, but y'know. We're American and we'll shine through." I think it's wrong to contend that one's country is the greatest of all (nationalism is obviously a dangerous thing), but America does have such a history of strength that I really admire, and am ultimately very proud to be a teeny tiny part of. Regardless of all flaws.

feedback please?

Does it make sense that the vulnerable infuriate because they simply are vulnerable? I'm writing a serial killer, essentially, and I feel that this character has a deep-seated fury when it comes to people and society, and considers himself superior firstly because he's kept himself alive (IE has never been vulnerable) and secondly because he can kill others. They cannot keep themselves alive and they cannot kill him, so he thinks, and therefore that makes him angry enough to drive him to violence. He's not convinced that he's helping them, necessarily, but he keeps hoping that perhaps eventually someone will fight back or someone will prove themselves not vulnerable or easily tricked by him.

he does kill the vulnerable because they are an easy target, rather he targets the vulnerable because they enrage him. it may also be his way of combating even his feelings of sympathy for them.

...does that make sense? thoughts?

this script is so hard.

I'm starting to realize how few people- "normal" (relatively) people watch movies. Or read books. Admittedly, I perhaps pursue both of these activities to a fault. Absolutely to a fault, this is one of the reasons why I am out of shape-- I'd so much rather watch a movie or read a book then do physically healthy things. Bah on that. So I'm not saying it doesn't even out, however. There is nothing to make one feel fully freakish than that confused silence that greets one when one drops a quote or reference and is responded to with a blank or questioning stare.

Resident to me: "The rug... the rug is gone... where did the rug go? The rug with the stuff..."
Me to fellow caretaker: "It really tied the room together, man."
Fellow Caretaker: "....?"

Caretaker to another: "Where did you go? We couldn't find you."
Me" "We thought you was a toad."
Fellow caretakers: ".....?"

Pregnant Caretaker: "I feel huge today. Like a whale."
Me: "Hopefully Ahab's not hanging out here."
Pregnant Caretaker: "....?"
Me: "Call me Ishmael."
Pregnant Caretaker: "Okay."

Caretaker: "Does anyone have cash for a tip for the pizza boy?"
Fellow caretakers: "How much is it?"
Caretaker: "Two dollars."
Me (in hoarse, weird voice): "Twwwwooooo dolllaaaaars."
All other fellow caretakers: "..................................?"

Caretaker to me: "You offend me."
Me: "Aw. Give us your hands if we be friends and Robin shall restore amends."
Caretaker to me: "I'm not gonna hold your hand."