My Mumbling Thoughts

I have been on Franz Ferdinand's website about a million times and didn't even realize that the boys from the band kept a blog. I've been reading it all day, and I have to say that it's hilarious with amazing writing. Witty. Clever.

While I was reading though, I found one of Alex's posts and thought I would be unimaginative and steal his words to put up on mine, just because I feel like it and don't have anything important to say. Hey, I am crediting him.

Anyhoo, here it is. Franz Friday.

Glasgow
28 07 04

Well, I’m still flying, completely elated after T in the Park.

We signed so many odd items in the NME tent. A girl took her knickers off and laid them between Bob and me. Quite a few wee guys wanted me to give them my tie. I didn’t. We had a portakabin backstage for a dressing room which we shared with the Scissor Sisters. We’ve played quite a few shows with them recently and they travel with a steamer thing that takes the creases out of clothes. Every gig, we get steaming with the sisters before we play. Kim Deal came to say hello again. She is very sweet, reminding me of a cross between Paul’s wee sister and Paul’s mum.

It’s strange to be back in my flat again. The plants have grown, as has the pile of unpaid bills. The beetles that used to live under the cupboards (wrigglers and crunchers) have been replaced by big spiders. It’s like progressing to the next level of a computer game, where the layout is the same as the previous level, but the monsters have changed appearance and characteristics. When I come back next, I’m hoping for mice. There’s food in my freezer which has been there for over two years. I’m going to eat as much of it as possible tomorrow as an experiment. There’s a stew I made with the leftovers after Christmas 2002 in a poly bag. It’s the same shape it was when I sat it on the wire shelf.

I got an email from a friend of mine who's been living in Angola for a while. He saw me on the box in a café there, talking about how we made the video for ‘take me out’ or something. I think it was a bit of a shock, as last time I saw him, nobody knew what we were up to outside Glasow, never mind Angola. He said he saw someone die of rabies recently - a lot of frothing at the mouth apparently.

Went round to see my mum and dad today. Fixed up my old bike and had a little ride. I went to the dentist for a check-up. The hygienist showed me how to floss my teeth. Apparently you take the piece of thread and pass it between your teeth. This removes plaque. Last time, she showed me how to use a toothbrush. Apparently the friction of the bristles against the enamel of the teeth removes plaque. I’m hoping that next time she might show me how to bite effectively, or pick my nose perhaps. I’m sure my technique can’t have been that good for all these years.

I met a couple of friends after T in the park. One was telling me about the ‘back to work’ week of training that the employment service is forcing her to go on. Apparently it’s advisable to wash before going to an interview for a job. I wonder if my hygienist is moonlighting. Paul told me about a guy he was on one of those courses with who said ‘I had a job once… punched some cunt in the face, so they gave me the sack…’.

Posted by Sam at 10:12 AM | Permalink

There's three of us standing in the conference room. Myself, M, and Tim. Tim stopped by to assemble a TV stand for us that has been sitting on the floor for about three weeks.

Tim: "The top won't fit. See? That left leg is bent out too far."

M: "Yeah, it does look like it's severely bent."

Me: "Are you sure they're on the right side? I think they're both supposed to be bent out like that."

Tim: "I've tried switching them around, but nothing works. These instructions suck too."

M tries to push the steel up a little bit so that it's not as crooked.

Tim: "Oh, I don't know who you're kidding. You can't bend that up."

M: "Yes I can. I've got the big guns now, man. Don't you know?" He pats his hand on his upper arm.

Tim: "You work out regularly?"

M: "Yeah, I try to work out every other day."

Tim: "Man, I haven't lifted weights in so long. How much do you lift?"

While they went on talking about weights and how strong they were, I sat down across from the TV stand and stared at it for a minute.

Me: "Tim. I figured out your problem. The legs are on upside down."

I stood up and walked out of the conference room.

Damn I'm good.

Posted by Sam at 10:15 AM | Permalink

Used Hack was lovely and tagged me today on his blog. Gosh, I love it when that happens. Not that it happens often, but when it does, I get really excited. It gives me something to post when I'm feeling creatively drained (like recently) and it also gives me something to do while I'm at work.

Now, onto the questions...

1. Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog?

Yes. Looking hot around the clock is just something that I do naturally. I must be prepared at all times so that means keeping a fresh tube of lipstick on me. It's for the fans, you see.

2. Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered?

Not at all. Well, if they are, it's without my knowledge.

3. Do you like it when creeps or dorks e-mail you?

I've yet to receive a creepy or dorky e-mail from anybody. It's all just spam at the moment. Although I can hardly wait for the day to arrive when a creep or a dork does decide to e-mail me.

4. Do you lie in your blog?

Nope. Never have, and don't plan on it. Well, unless you count the stuff about me discovering a cure for cancer and being a spy, then yes, maybe I do lie a little bit. Actually, I really don't see the point of keeping a personal blog if all you want to do is post up lies about yourself.

5. Are you passive-aggressive in your blog?

Ha! I mean...sure. We can go with that.

6. Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop?

No. That also doesn't make sense.

7. Are you in therapy? If not, should you be? If so, is it helping?

I'm not in therapy. I've thought about it (once, for about two seconds), but because of how expensive it is, and also because I thought that it was a load of shit, I didn't. I'm sure that it helps others though, so that's what counts.

8. Do you delete mean comments? Do you fake nice ones?

I don't think I've ever had a mean comment. Either I'm so scary and bitchy that they're too afraid to leave me a mean comment, or they become extremely bored halfway through reading one entry and don't have the energy to leave one. And as for the fake ones? Heh. No. I don't like faking anything.

9. Have you ever rubbed one out while reading a blog?

*Ahem* Some things a lady must keep to herself.

10. If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less?

Well I would hope that they like me more, but you never know. I think I'm about the same behind the screen and in real life, so maybe it wouldn't be that big of a shock.

11. Do you have a job?

Yeah. That's what half of my drivel is all about.

12. If someone offered you a decent salary to blog full-time without restrictions, would you do it?

Well I do have a job where I'm allowed to blog full-time. I have some restrictions, however. I guess the salary could be a bit better. I would do it officially though, yeah. In a heart beat.

13. Which bloggers do you want to meet in real life?

It'd be nice to meet any of them, really. That is if they wanted to meet me too. I'm not about forcing somebody else to keep me company.

14. Which bloggers have you made out with? (a)In real life? (b)In fantasy?

(a) I've made out with Ash and let me tell you, that's my cake and ice cream right there. I was close to making out with Mendy but was told that she respects my authority too much to do that.
(b) Nobody.

15. Do you usually act like you have more money or less money than you really have?

It's not an act. I really am poor. I used to act like I had more money than I was bringing in though. Which resulted in me becoming poor...you see how it is.

16. Does your family read your blog?

Occasionally Mel if she's bored. Momma knows that I have one but doesn't read. She might have forgotten that I have one...

17. How old is your blog?

It's just a wee youngin' at four, almost five months old. Man how time flies.

18. Do you get more than 1000 page views per day? Do you care?

Of course I get more than 1000 page views per day. That is if you take what I really get and multiply that by thirty-five. I'm a stats whore, yes, and love seeing who decides to spend more than two seconds on my website, but it doesn't keep me awake at night.

19. Do you have another secret blog in which you write about being depressed, slutty, or a liar?

If it's a secret, why would I post about it here?

20. Have you ever given another blogger money for his/her writing?

I've considered it, but have never done it.

21. Do you report the money you earn from your blog on your taxes?

Shit, I could make money off of my blog? If I did make money off of it, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't report it. They collect taxes on everything nowadays. They can leave my blog the hell alone.

22. Is blogging narcissistic?

Mine is, I know that for sure. Others who blog about politics or what not, maybe not so much.

23. Do you feel guilty when you don't post for a long time?

Oh yeah. I like posting five days out of the week. If I miss one day, then I feel all off balance. The weekends, however, I normally don't. That doesn't mean that I don't consider it though.

24. Do you like John Mayer?

I'm a big fan of Mr. Mayer, although I think he's too overrated now and it's kind of annoying. I enjoy his music and relate to all of his lyrics.

25. Do you have enemies?

Oh, I'm sure I do, I just don't know who they are.

26. Are you lonely?

I get by. I'm working on changing that though. I'll leave it at that, otherwise we might be here for a while.

27. Why bother?

What's the point if you don't bother? You might as well become a permanent fixture in your grandmother's couch collecting lint if you don't bother. Since I'm allergic to lint, I do bother.

..

Thanks, Hack. This filled up quite a decent amount of time at work. I appreciate you considering me.

Now it's Erik, Ash, and Leah's turn. Do share with us.

Posted by Sam at 10:14 AM | Permalink

When we lived in North Dakota it wouldn't get dark in the summer time until about eleven o'clock. That was awesome when we were out of school. Momma wouldn't make us come inside until the street lights flickered on. We would roll in the house with about a million mosquito bites covering our little legs and then spend the rest of the evening sitting on our hands trying not to scratch at them.

However, when school was still in session, bed time was eight o'clock on the dot for us, and not one minute later. We put up tin foil in our windows so that we could block out some of the sun rays and then cover that with our curtains, but there would still be an orange glow all over our walls. When you're 9-years-old, it's really difficult to sleep when you know that there's still three good hours that could be spent playing outside.

Momma's room was on the opposite side of the house of mine and Mel's, so she didn't have to worry as much about the sun turning her room into a tiny incubator in the evenings. She still had the tin foil, the blinds, and the curtains, but it looked relatively normal around eight o'clock at night.

Occasionally, when I just couldn't fall asleep and had spent about two hours tossing and turning, I would get out of bed, creep down the hall (carefully, trying not to squeak the wooden floors) with Sussie and my small blanket in my hands, and then sit down in front of Momma's bedroom door. I had to work up the nerve to go inside because I knew that she'd be angry with me for still being up so late. I would sit in front of the blue glow from the television coming from the bottom of her door and listen to what she was watching for a little bit. If I hadn't fallen asleep in front of the door after sitting there for a while, I would stand up, slowly open her door, and peek my tiny head inside.

Sometimes she would still be awake and tell me to go back to my room. Other times she would be asleep and I'd just crawl in on the other side and fall asleep too. But then there were some nights when she would still be awake, ask me what I was still doing up, and then tell me to climb in next to her. We would fall asleep with the evening news on or some random late night talk show. Those were the best.

Last night after I got in bed, I was restless. I tossed and turned and couldn't shut my mind off. I was facing my windows and stared at the moon that has been shining brightly over me these past couple of nights.

It got to the the point where I just couldn't be in my bed anymore. Not just my bed, but my room. So I got out of bed, grabbed Sussie and my green flannel blanket that I'm always wrapped up in around the house, and creeped down the hallway in front of Momma's door. I sat down on the floor and listened to what she was watching. It was Commander in Chief. Momma can't wait until we really get a female president.

After a couple of minutes, I stood up and slowly opened her door. Her windows were opened and her fan was turned on high. She looked like she was still asleep so I slowly started pulling the covers down on the other side of her bed so I could crawl in. I hadn't even pulled them down halfway before she jumped up startled.

Momma: "Oh, Samantha! Goodness. You just about gave me a fucking heart attack. I didn't hear you come in."

Me: "Sorry, Momma. Hey, what time is your alarm clock set for?"

Momma: "5:15. Why?"

Me: "I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight."

Momma: "Sure, baby. Hop in. But you've got to make up your side of the bed tomorrow morning."

Me: "No worries, I will."

After I got all situated, we watched a little bit of TV together.

Momma: "Is everything okay?"

Me: "Yeah, everything's fine. Why wouldn't they be okay?"

Momma: "It's just been a while since you last slept in my room."

Me: "I know."

Momma: "Are you sure everything's okay?"

Me: "I just don't like sleeping alone."

Momma: "I don't like it either."

Poor Momma. Hearing her say that made me so sad. She had been sleeping alone for ages and here she was, years later, still chugging along, waiting...A small tear rolled down my cheek.

We became quiet again for a moment.

Momma: "You know, you wouldn't be having this problem right now if you hadn't slept with him."

I busted out laughing. It was such a Momma-thing to say.

Me: "I know."

Momma: "I'm glad you decided to sleep in here. We haven't done this in so long. It's kind of nice."

And you know what? It really was.

Posted by Sam at 10:39 AM | Permalink

Whenever there are clouds in the sky and the rain is freely falling, people generally say, "it's so nasty outside." I usually agree for small talk purposes, but the truth is, I love this kind of weather. You get to wrap up in bunches of layers, hunker down under the covers, watch daytime TV, and eat loads of comfort food. How can you not like that? I thrive on it.

Currently as I type this up, I've got my cup of hot tea (Lipton's new honey and lemon), a brownie, flannel jammies, and the new slippers that I received in the mail yesterday from, Ash. They're really comfy and swallow my entire foot. I feel like the abonimable snowman walking around in them. Very nice.

Ah, yes. I got my birthday presents from Ash and they're lovely. He sent The Rakes, The Magic Numbers, and the Editors for my listening pleasure, two compilation CDs, my fabulous slippers, a web cam (hehe), and some other things that shall remain for My Eyes Only. Y'all are a creative bunch. Use your imagination. Oh, and a Pettree. At first when I saw it, I was confused. I didn't exactly understand what it was all about, but now that I actually know what it is, I think it's precious. Of course being me, I had to give it, well him, a name. Since he's a cactus, I named him, Spike. It's fitting, don't ya think? I know I haven't had the greatest luck in the past, but I'm going to give it another try. Hopefully things between Spike and I will work out.

..

This morning as I was driving to work with Mel in the car, I was pulled over by a cop...again.

"Great," I mumbled.

I slowed the car, pulled over on the side of the road, and rolled my window down.

PoPo: "Good morning, ma'am. Can I ask you where your front licence plate is?"

Me: "Oh, it's not on the car yet but I'm going to be getting that taken care of really soon. Another officer (well, two actually) has already told me that I need to have one. I'm going and getting one of those plastic plates to snap on the front."

PoPo: "I see. Did you just move to the area?"

Me: "Yes sir, I did." (Um, about three years ago.)

PoPo: "Okay, just make sure you have that done sooner rather than later. It's illegal to drive around without it in Virginia."

Me: "I already thought about it. I was planning on doing it this weekend."

PoPo: "Alright. Have a nice day."

Me: "Thanks, you too."

Damn. That's the third time they've pulled me over for not having a license plate on the front of my car. I guess I really should get it done this time.

Mel: "If I was you, I would have gotten out of the car, and then pushed his motorcycle over."

Me: "The scary thing Mel, is that I could see you doing that."

..

Since Scott's birthday is this Saturday, the lab, myself, K, and Mr. Hurd all went out to lunch today.

K: "So how old will you be turning, Scott?"

Scott: "Twenty-one."

K: "Really? I don't know many 21-year-olds with gray hair."

Scott: "It's the new fashion amongst us young folks, right Sam?"

Me: "Definitely. I'm getting mine dyed next week."

Mr. Hurd: "Oh who are you kidding, Scott? You're turning forty-three and we all know it."

Scott: "I'm hurt, Mr. Hurd. I can't believe you'd actually think that I would lie about my age."

Minnie: "Well Scott, look at it this way, if you're twenty-one, then I'm eleven."

..

There used to be a time when I would get excited whenever I had to place an order to Staples. Shopping for cool supplies with somebody else's money: F-U-N!

Not anymore. I now dread every Thursday that arrives because of the delivery guy. He sort of has a, um, "thing" for me. Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I have to spend five awkward minutes making awkward small talk with an awkward man while I sign the stupid papers and he unloads the boxes off of a cart that he rolls everywhere with him.

Don't get me wrong. I'm sure that there tons of ladies out in this big huge world who would appreciate a 5"2 gangster wannabe with ratty corn rows and gold teeth. I'm more than positive. I just don't happen to be one of those ladies. I've also made it clear that I have a boyfriend and he pleases me in more ways than he can count, and that I'm not looking for a "filler guy," so he can just forget about any creepy daydreams that he has swirling in that tiny mind of his.

A regular conversation that I have with the strange Staples guy:

SG: "So how are you doing today?"

Me: "I'm good thanks, how about you?" (That's me being polite, by the way. Not leading him on.)

SG: "You know how it is. I'm always doing good when I come here to see you."

Me: *strained/confused half smile* "Heh."

..

I helped hang up a dry erase board in the conference room today. It made me feel handy.

Posted by Sam at 10:41 AM | Permalink

First off, I must give a big shout out to my man, Christopher Columbus. If it wasn't for him then we wouldn't have gotten this past Monday off. I got to sleep in until seven o'clock (that is so sleeping in) and got almost everything on my very long list of things to do finished. Everything except my ironing. Ironing is a bitch.

So, what does one do when one has sent out a gazillion e-mails to everyone overseas who supposedly is able to help them with their college inquiries? One waits. And waits, and waits, and waits. Oh yeah, and blogs about how fucking boring it is to wait, and wait, and wait.

There are only so many times I can keep on e-mailing people or calling them without somebody just getting really fed up and completely blocking me all together. That would be a first for me, I think.

Now I'm waiting for my answers which should arrive in approximately "two business days."

Oh for fucks sake! I just need somebody to tell me if I can apply for my student visa while I'm over there? Is it legal? Will there be any kind of issues? Or an answer about financial aid through an American college would be helpful. I know they probably get a lot of questions every single day but those annoying automatic responses that simply scan your question, pick out certain phrases from what you wrote and then send you to another link on the website...I hate those. HATE THEM. I refuse to pay the $2.10 a minute to talk to somebody in the British Embassy and I don't understand why it's so hard for them to simply set up a free 1-800 number for regular poor people who can't travel all the way up to New York to make a goddamn appointment!

So that leaves me with nothing else other than to wait it out.

*Sigh*

I kept myself busy this morning while I waited in anticipation hoping that somebody from one of the many addresses would have e-mailed me back.

Something nasty and stinky spilled in the bottom of the refrigerator at work so I cleaned it out and made a sign telling people to check on their food every so often because if some strange smells start developing in there, I'm throwing the shit away along with it's container. Oh yeah, and that if they spill something, they better clean it up As Soon As It Happens. That shit is hard to get up after a while and I'm not their momma. It's not my job to clean up after their messes. I also organized all of the cupboards and our silverware drawer. It looks good.

I cleaned up around the printer and fax machine, organized all of the papers and wiped down that table too. It is also looking rather nice.

Once all of the cleaning around the office was complete, I went to bathroom, washed my hands, and noticed some kind of black mess was all down my right leg on my khaki pants.

So. Not. Cool.

I rubbed off as much as I could and was just happy that I didn't have to go anywhere today. Nobody can see my legs anyway.

In an effort to keep my sanity in tact, I played around with Mini for a little bit and noticed that she does have a shuffle option. I normally don't like putting CDs on shuffle because it just ruins the experience, but shuffling all of the songs that I've loaded on there? Different. It's like I have my own personal radio now. I was very excited about this simple, yet fantastic development.

I caught up on all of my blogs that I have been neglecting these past few days. That was good and I felt like I had accomplished something major. Then I realized how bad that was. Catching up on my blogs should not be my major accomplishment for the day. That's bad. Very bad. Still, good that I caught up on everything. I hate being behind on my blogs.

It got to the point where I was so bored that I just stared out of the window at all of the dark clouds that have been filling up our skies for the past couple of days. I watched the road dry, basically.

There still hasn't been any kind of response to any of my e-mails. The only person who seems to be really helping me out is, Heidi. She's golden and I can't wait until we meet. Yeah, I've already decided that we're meeting and when we do, I'm taking her out for some cake. Not only has she put up with me and my endless nagging questions, she responds quickly with detailed answers. She's very willing to help me and take the time to make sure that I fully understand everything. AND she even gives me suggestions as to what might be best, what I could do, should do, might want to consider, and all of that fantabulousness.

I'm a very impatient person, I know. I would just prefer to have all of this stuff done and over with so I know exactly where I stand with visas, arrivals, money, and time.

With the office being so empty though, I can turn up my music and dance around without having to worry about somebody walking in on me. It makes the time go by a lot faster. I highly reccomend it.

Posted by Sam at 10:43 AM | Permalink

I went to Five Guys for lunch. M had been talking about it for thirty minutes and considering it was 2pm and I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, my stomach was begging for nothing more than a big giant burger to fill up all of the empty space.

I walk inside where the music is always turned up extra loud. There are peanut shells covering the floor and only five of the tables have people sitting at them. It must have been a busy lunch day.

After I order my hamburger, I sit down and look at my receipt. I'm number 52.

"Number 47!" the girl shouted out.

Damn. I was going to have to wait for a little while. I don't know why, but it always seems like they take a small century to make one hamburger. Definitely worth the wait though.

I watch a group of four men sitting by the door. They were tossing napkins into the trash can while remaining in their seats. Their shots sucked so all of the napkins landed on the floor.

There was a married couple standing by the drink machines filling up their cups. They sat down. They sat down at my table. Well, not my table, but our table. Mine and Ash's table. That's where we sat when I brought him to experience some of the world's greatest burgers ever. We sat there in our comfy clothes together. I wasn't wearing any make-up and he hadn't fixed his hair. I couldn't stop laughing when he told me that it looks like a lego man if he doesn't put gel in it.

The couple sip their soda through their straws and weren't talking. They never make eye contact, never looking at each other once. I always looked at Ash. I don't know if he ever noticed, but I'm sure he did because sometimes I would just blatantly stare and watch what he was doing. Not this couple though. They simply sit quietly and wait for their food. They seem so bored with each other. Why were they even together?

I don't know why but I got so angry. I just wanted to get up, walk straight over to where they were and yell and scream at them, demanding that they take their non-talking selves out of Five Guys. They didn't deserve to be there, to be sitting at my table where I had sat with Ash. They were ruining it.

Why do people stay together if they don't even like each other? And why do they always seem to surround me? Every single time I see a couple like them I get so pissed off and start mentally screaming at them that they don't realize how lucky they are. How nice it must be to be able to see their boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife every day. They get to wake up every day and see them sleeping next to them, hear them breathing, feel their skin next to them. They're able to walk hand-in-hand, and see them smile and laugh at each other's jokes. They need to be grateful that they have those.

I constantly go over how it's not fair and run circles in my brain. Ash and I deserve to be together. We're in love and want to be together. We need to be together. We should to be together. And yet we can't.

Can't people see it all over me? Can't they see my love that I'm constantly carrying with me for him? Shouldn't they already know? Why do I always have to explain it to others? They never seem to understand whenever I do try to explain it.

"Oh, but you're so young. You don't know what being in love is all about."

I hear that all the time.

I just want to tell them, shut up. You don't know what we have. You don't know us and how we are when we're together. You don't know what we talk about and how we feel about each other. All you see is two young people experiencing "puppy love." We can't possibly know what we're feeling, right?

If that's the case, then I don't care. He makes me happy. Over the moon and dancing amongst the stars kind of happy. I can't breathe we're so high. My stomach still does a flip whenever I see his name flash across my caller ID. I could sit and listen to him talk about anything (well, mechanical engineering if I had to choose) all day and not get bored once.

Why does it have to be so difficult for us? Here's two people that clearly aren't interested in one another and yet, there they sit, not talking, and just sipping soda.

"52! Number 52!" I look up and snap out of my mental rant.

I hop off of the stool where I was waiting, take my hamburger and walk past the unhappy couple.

I step outside where the dark, thick clouds loom above me. They look like demons floating in mid-air. My demons.

I wish it would rain right now.

Posted by Sam at 10:44 AM | Permalink

A middle aged, partially bald, not-so-wise man once told me that if you can't save $1,000.00 you'll never be able to save $100,000.00. For some reason these words rang so true with me. So what if it's obvious. I'm slow.

Ever since I had to get the brakes on my car fixed and drop about $1,000.00 on just my car, I've been slightly depressed with the reality that...well...I suck at saving money. I really do. I've been coming to terms with the fact that I'm irresponsible and have pretty much sunk my chances of paying for my first year of college.

You always see it in the movies. That's how they always start off.

Picture it. The first scene.

Girl is in her car, fag puffing in her mouth, windows rolled down, and jams blasting out of her speakers. Girl has a very serious look on her face. Girl is dirt poor but has a dream. Girl continues to drive in no particular direction in order to follow her dream regardless of the fact that she's dirt poor. The odds are all against her. The likelihood of her actually overcoming her odds are pretty much slim to none.

Things are bleak.

Eventually though, she makes it to her destination where she knows a total of zero people. She takes some random jobs to get by and lives off of ramen noodles for the first six months at her new home. Things are hard, but she's happy, because goddammit she's following her dream no matter what anybody tells her.

One day though, by chance, she meets somebody. It could be a new best friend, a potential love interest, or somebody with "connections" and they give her a new option, a different door to open, a new point of view. All of a sudden, life for Girl begins to move at a much faster pace, so much so that she can hardly keep up. That's okay though, because all of these events are helping her get closer to her dream.

Drama ensues and Girl cries because she wasn't expecting or prepared for any of the drama. She second guesses herself and wonders if she made the right decision and has many deep thoughts. But during all of the drama, Girl learns some hard life lessons and this makes her a better person. She sees a lot of truths in things and gains a better understanding of how things are done.

Once all of the dust has settled and all of the dramatic events have taken place, Girl finally reaches her dream and there's nothing but smiles, hugs, and warm chocolate chip cookies.

This is what I was getting ready to do, only not really.

I have been doing so much research on how to get myself over to England as fast as possible that I overlooked some important things. Things like, um, opening a savings account WAY long ago. Things like, I won't be able to apply for my student visa until 3 months prior to me attending classes and that if you can't prove that you are able to support yourself completely on your own, you won't be accepted. They will deny your ass and not feel bad about it.

The work visa was a good idea in theory, but through talking with many different people, it seems that somebody like myself will never ever receive a work visa. Besdies, the UK doesn't want me trying to stay there permanently. No, no, no. Temporarily, sure. Having the option of staying for however long I want though, absolutely out of the question.

So not many options left for me. Way to go Irresponsible Sammi. You are a failure and have blown all future chances of making it to England by January. You are a Fucktard.

But wait. There is light. A very small stream of light, but light indeed.

See, on Monday I was a bit bitchy on the phone with, Ash. I was in a crap mood (as I have been for a couple of days), and didn't want to talk about anything. I was having a pity party for one, and by god I could cry if I want to.

That's not the light part I'm talking about.

When Momma got home, she asked me how my day was. I couldn't handle it anymore. The tears came flowing down my face and I was doing that annoying sniffling bullshit where you're crying so hard that you can't breathe. Momma listened to me while I told her my plan of moving in January, regardless of how much cash I had and that I would just find work when I arrived. She listened to me whine, complain, and feel sorry for myself. I told her everything.

So Momma did what Momma does best and she told me how it is. She kicked some much needed reality into my head and wouldn't take any of my bullshit excuses that I'm always dealing out for others to feel sorry for me.

Please. Momma was in the military. She doesn't have time for any of those games. She has been taught if you want something, then goddammit go out and get it. It's okay to dream, but don't sit around and wait for the shit to come falling out of the sky . Do it responsibly and with a full proof plan. The last thing she wants is for me to go anywhere unprepared where I'll be struggling.

After two and a half hours of me crying and getting a clearer picture of the situation, I fell asleep. I woke up with my eyes so swollen that I couldn't tell if they were open or closed. I took a shower and prayed that the swelling would go down. On top of all that, I put ten pounds of make up on so I could try and disguise the fact that I had been crying all night and even potentially while I was sleeping.

That's not the light either. Hang on, I'm getting there.

I was still in a shit mood the next day, but it wasn't as bad. I was relatively busy with some random jobs around the office, but during my breaks and down time, I e-mailed about four people who I thought could help me out with my situation. I didn't sugar coat anything for them. I told them how it is:

I'm a soon to be twenty-year-old who wants to live in London with my boyfriend. I'm poor, in need of a job, and need an alternative way for me to get a hold of some cash since I don't want to re-apply for 2007. That would suck and not only would I be extremely pissed off, I'd be disappointed in myself. What can I do?

This morning I had two e-mails in my inbox.

This is the light.

Their names are Val and Heidi.

I asked Val if Roehampton was going to be visiting the states anytime soon. Preferably in the DC/Virginia area, because I wanted to go and talk directly to a representative. Val told me that I had just missed them by a week (bugger) and they didn't have any future trips on their schedule but that she'd be more than happy to answer any of my questions.

So I asked her my questions and this is what she told me in a nutshell...

- I should get a job upon my arrival in the UK. It'll be so, so much easier and less painful than everything I'm doing at the moment for a work visa.
- Roehampton is recognized by the US Department of Education. I need to fill out a FAFSA form. (I knew this but haven't gotten around to filling it out since I'm a procrastinator. It's just good to know that it will actually be accepted.)
- I also need to check out the IEFC. They're like FAFSA and will hook me up with some nifty cash without a fee.
- There are plenty of discounts for Americans through the IEFC. I'm looking forward to them.

Since Val is going to be out for the next couple of weeks, she forwarded my e-mail to her work colleague, Heidi.

Heidi sent me an e-mail also. In a nutshell, this is what she said...

- She does work in the International Centre, however she is also a full time student at Roehampton and in her third year. She's having a kick ass time. She hopes that I also have a kick ass time at Roehampton.
- Val was right about finding a job in the UK. So, so much easier after I arrive and I do not want the British Consulate to be concerned that I'm this worried about getting a job in the UK as they might think that I might want to take a full time position and stay permanently.
- Her best advice for me is to get all of my bank accounts sorted out before I even leave the US. She sent an e-mail to a contact of hers and is waiting to hear back from him.
- A man by the name of, Erich, is the new representative for the IEFC and I should ask him any questions about their financial aid.

I felt so good. So relieved. So much lighter.

When I see these two women, I'm going to give them a hug and a kiss, because they have once again made it seem possible for me to get my shit together and make the 2006 entry even though I'm dirt poor. I'm not going to have to turn on my red light. No. I'm going on financial aid, bitches.

Now I have to actually fill out the applications which are boring, I hate, and would much rather let a large truck reverse into me at a high speed.

Who cares though? I just need to do it, and I need to do it before the end of fucking time.

So nothing MAJOR occured. I haven't gotten a big check from Ed McMahon nor have I won the lottery. I just realized that even with all of my mistakes (that I've made more than once) the poorest of poor people can go to school overseas and there are some very nice people who work there that are willing to help me out and talk to me regularly until I get everything sorted out and finalized.

I also realized that I have a serious money issues that I need to address. With that, I've got a different plan, but that's an entire post in itself.

Posted by Sam at 10:45 AM | Permalink

We pulled up into the Nissan Pavillion's parking lot and stopped in front of a huge boulder in the cheap, free parking spaces.

Nobody was there.

We walked through some trees, over some rocks, and made it to the top where there were about three other die hard Coldplay fans waiting. It was perfect weather again, just like on Tuesday and I was relieved that we wouldn't have to be sitting out in the rain.

I sat down and decided to hold our place as number two in line while Mendy trekked it back down to the porter johns.

Waiting for three hours was going to suck.

When she got back, we scooted over into the shade and braced ourselves for three hours of being absolutely bored with no entertainment whatsoever. There was a guy standing in front of us talking on his cell phone. I thought, "aw man. We got stuck behind Cell Phone Guy."

Mendy and I looked up.

Mendy: "Just let us know if we're invading your space."

Cell Phone Guy: "Nah, it's alright. I don't have any space."

Me: "Doesn't that make you claustrophobic?"

And with that we made our first concert buddy, Jon. He talked to us for the entire three and a half hours about music. Nothing but music, turning music into an official religion, concerts, and more about music. He has been an avid concert goer ever since he was sixteen and this past Wednesday was his twentieth birthday. His friend, Pat, was on his way from work to rock out with him down in the pit. We were very excited that they would be down there that way they could save us some space since we wouldn't make it as fast with our short little limbs trying to race down.

Eventually, Pat joined us and brought two pizza slices that looked like they had seen better and fresher days. I was becoming so dehydrated that my lips began to look like I was a crack addict. Time continued to click away though and they soon opened the gates so that we could start scanning tickets. I had spotted a water cart while we were standing outside the gates and got my cash ready to buy a $4.00 bottle of water.

I ran, I paused, I asked for water, they gave me water and my $1.00 change (I was tempted to say, "keep the change" but thought against it immediately), I said, "bless you", I continued running/walking, I slowed down, I got a stitch in my side, I became embarrassed because I couldn't run the distance down to the pit, I called out for Mendy, I opened my water bottle, I started to run/walk again, I finally made it to the pit entrance.

I wanted to collapse.

After my ticket was hole punched and I got a nifty wrist band that said, "Enter the pit area at your own risk" (as if that would scare me away), I quickly ran down the stairs praying that I wouldn't trip and fall flat on my face while being known for the rest of the night as, "that girl who fucked her face up", and found Jon standing in the middle right up against the barricade...with no spaces anywhere around him.

None.

Zero.

I was too late.

We were standing in the second row of people behind this GIANT with no soul who refused to move and let Mendy and I stand in front of him. He wouldn't budge an inch. Instead, he was a complete prick and said to us with a bit of glee in his voice, "biology wins again." I wanted to say, "wow, you're a dick," but I bit my tongue.

People quickly filed in behind us. Mendy and I tried to reason with the incredibly bitter old man who had already seen Coldplay FIVE times, but he said that we should have gotten down here faster.

What an asshole. I had never want to cut somebody so badly.

Rilo Kiley came on stage a little bit after 7:30. I was so excited to see them, and the lead singer was just the cutest thing in the entire world. She rocked out on her guitar, sang her little heart out, and it was just a really good performance.

Too bad we could only see directly in front of us over this semi-tall woman's shoulder because the incredibly tall GIANT with no soul wasn't moving to save his life. What got me was that he wouldn't bob along to the music, or sing to any of the words (if he knew any), or clap along. No. He just stood there like this enormous boring tree.

I was not going to stand here like this throughout the rest of Coldplay. Oh no. I refused. I didn't wait for six hours just so some prat with an attitude problem could stand in my way.

I switched places with Mendy who was very upset that she couldn't see. I tapped on Jon's shoulder.

Me: "Hey, so how'd you like, Rilo Kiley then?"

Jon: "Oh, they were great. I really enjoyed that."

Me: "Yeah, me too. Or well, the bit that I could see. It all sounded really good though."

Jon: "Why don't you come up here?"

Me: "Do you think that I could squeeze in there?"

Jon: "Yeah, I'm sure. That guy can move a little," he pointed to The Tree.

Me: "Huh, right."

I wedged myself in between Jon and The Tree. The Tree looked down surprised.

The Tree: "It's a great view up here, huh?"

Me: "Fantastic." What a cunt.

The Tree: "So are you and your friend going to switch during the concert?"

Me: "No. I'm going to bring her up here with me."

I tried more negotiating with The Tree. Meanwhile, there was a group of other short ladies that Mendy had rounded up all pressuring The Tree to hunch over.

The whole time we were ganging up on The Tree, Coldplay's crew were setting up the stage. Chris Martin's piano was center stage. Johnny and Guy would stand on either side while Will hung out in the back right of the stage. There was a big screen just like in their video Speed of Sound behind them all. It was simple, but nice.

Before I knew it, the lights dimmed and everyone began freaking out. Coldplay was about to come out.

Holy sweet Jesus.

The music kicked up. Johnny, Guy, and Will assumed their positions on stage. You could hear the first chords of Square One start playing. The screen lit up and you could see Chris Martin's shadow with a microphone.

"You're in control, is there anywhere you wanna go?"

The tingling started in my skin.

"You're in control, is there anything you wanna know?"

I started jittering up and down.

"The future's for discovering."

Oh my lord.

"The space in which we're travelling."

The concert was on.

There they were, all four of them within an arm reach, jamming out.

By their second song, Yellow, Mendy was already up at the front standing next to me with her little camera recording Coldplay's every move, every note, every word. I was pretty proud of myself. I only cried three times. You would have cried too if you were standing a couple of mere inches away from one of you favorite bands in the entire universe. Besides, it was during In My Place, Trouble, and Fix You. Definitely cry worthy songs.

It was roughly about two hours long and the whole entire time I was smiling from ear to ear in this weird place that was all warm, fuzzy, and had the occasional bunny rabbit that would hop by just to add to the absolute happiness. Nothing could go wrong. Coldplay was playing.

They played it all, a little bit from all three of their albums. At one point, Chris Martin hopped down into the crowd and ran to the middle in the seating and sang up there while being shown on the big screen. They did a tribute to Johnny Cash and played Ring of Fire, which was so awesome. Chris would ad lib some of his songs and he was always dancing or rocking back and forth on his small piano stool.

It had to end eventually though, and they did a kick ass job with Fix You. It was their last stop on this tour and it felt kind of extra special and cool. Or maybe that was just me. At the very end, after all of the singing and playing, they bowed to a standing ovation.

Then Mendy and me went to my house and promptly got drunk. Nothing says Fucking Kick Ass Friday than that.

Posted by Sam at 10:46 AM | Permalink

There are no words to describe just how fantastic the concert was. So instead I'll just upload the few pictures that the one and only greatest photographer, Mendy took with her perfect camera. She mainly took about a bazillion videos which I'll somehow figure out how to upload with given time. Oh, and just for the record, Mendy deserves the biggest medal ever because the videos are amazing and we should all buy her something big and sparkly for these remarkable gems.

Of course I'll tell the entire story of our fantasy day. I must mention the extremely tall and bitter man who refused to move out of our way, and that I got one of Chris Martin's tape/finger/ring things that he's always wearing. I have to talk about him dancing, singing, jumping into the audience, talking to Mendy and telling her when she could take a picture (and the rest of the people who attended), our concert buddies, and the two random fans who made it on the stage and security sweeping them away.

Tomorrow when I'm at work and feeling creative to describe everything and get into serious details. For now though, I must finish up my laundry, listen to the new Franz CD that came in the mail yesterday, and continue to attend to my pit wounds that I recieved. It's not too bad. I'm mostly sore if anything. Coldplay had a very peaceful pit.

Posted by Sam at 10:47 AM | Permalink