The Great Zoltar

While doing some after-dinner shopping while on vacation a couple of weeks ago, my mom, sister, and I wandered into a new-agey mineral shop. I enjoyed perusing the crystals and geodes, but what ultimately drew my attention was the fortuneteller machine by the door. It was a good one, too – just like Zoltar from Big.

I know that suck things are basically nonsense. A flashy machine with a semi-sinister looking puppet inside isn’t going to be able to tell your fortune. But there was a dollar burning a hole in my wallet. I mean, why not give it a go? It worked for Tom Hanks, right?

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My fortune read (if you can’t read the picture, which you probably can’t):

“Something that has been puzzling you will finally be revealed. A lost object may reappear, or a letter may come from afar. Friends share secrets and your loyalty is rewarded. A Capricorn supervisor is very impressed.”

That night, I was standing on the brink of a big change in my life. I strolled along the pier feeling confident and ready for what the future held. I am going through a major shift now, and… it’s a struggle. I knew it would be, but I’m having a harder time than I anticipated. So, I am keeping this fortune tucked in my wallet. It may be a load of hooey based on random numbers and conjecture, but I still have hope in the future.

Outside Looking In

I feel like every generation has some “fandoms” that, although they can transcend time and appeal to various age groups, are seen almost as a “staple.” But, of course, it’s impossible to involve yourself in all of them. So here are the ones I missed out on, as a millenial growing up in the nineties/2000’s!

1.) The Legend of Zelda
I have, in my twenty seven years on this planet, never played a Zelda game. I was a Sony girl, so I had Playstations growing up – the only Nintendo consoles I owned were the hand-held ones, and I only played them for Pokemon and the occasional KH game or FF remaster. So as far as the fandom goes, I only have basic knowledge, which is one of my greatest shames as a gamer. I do know that the hero is Link, though. I am similarly a novice at most Mario games, but I am a beast at Mario Kart.

2.) A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket
I read about 10 million books in my youth and somehow missed out on this book series. It is the kind of series that is 100% up my alley, so I’m not sure how it flew below my radar. I have since made it a goal to read all of them, because I don’t want to watch the show without having read the books.

3.) Anything on the Disney Channel
Honestly, I didn’t know that Disney Channel was even a thing during my childhood. I was more into Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network, and only discovered Disney Channel when I stumbled upon a That’s So Raven rerun on TV one day while scrolling through the channels. So, I didn’t know that there were show versions of my favorite Disney movies, like Hercules and Aladdin. I was too busy scaring the pants off of myself watching Are You Afraid of the Dark? By the time I discovered it, I was basically too old to be watching…. though I snuck in a couple of episodes of Suite Life from time to time.

4.) Naruto (and other popular anime)
I was a pretty big weeaboo back in the day, but never got into such titles as Naruto, Death Note, Bleach, or One Piece, just to name a few. This is not to say that I didn’t like these shows – I just didn’t really watch them. I did watch a bit of Naruto and Bleach, and I enjoyed what I saw, but I tend to drop off from titles when they are super long and I’m not completely enthralled by them. This was the era when folks were wearing Naruto headbands to school, so being an anime fan who didn’t watch Naruto was a bit of a stigma. The exception is Death Note, which I did watch in its entirety but I did not quite get the hype as much as some of my friends did. The perfect anime length for me is 26-52 episodes, or 13 episodes, depending on the series. Anything longer tends to be too much for me, though I was hugely into Inuyasha and Sailor Moon.

To My Younger Self

Here, on Olde Poetry Monday Friday, a poem I wrote in 2012. I don’t remember writing it, but with all the changes going on in my life, I thought it was appropriate.

 

To My Younger Self

To my younger self,
A bit of advice for your future.
When Coach Smith tells you not to try and stop suddenly,
at the end of your section of the relay,
listen to him.
He knows what he’s talking about.
And your knees will never be the same.

Don’t take A.P. Government your senior year.
You aren’t even going to take the A.P. Test
and that ‘B’ is going to ruin your G.P.A.
and while you’re at it, don’t take Calculus freshman year of college.
that ‘B’ is going to ruin your G.P.A.

Practice your violin a little more,
so you don’t get embarrassed when you have to play for a crowd,
and so you don’t have to fake-play your way through concerts.
Actually learn how to play the James Bond theme
instead of moving your bow and hoping you’re in synch with the others.

Say hi to your old Spanish teacher when you walk past him in the hallway.
Even when he isn’t your teacher anymore.
Because when he runs into your class and congratulates you
on the hefty college scholarship you received
you’re going to feel like an asshole for not talking to him for two years.

Don’t steal your government teacher’s prized stress ball during class
and then spend study hall cutting letters out of the newspaper to make ransom notes
and then slide said ransom notes under the door of her office.
…actually, you should still do that.
That was pretty funny.

Remember to tell your grandmother you love her every time you see her.
Remember that no matter what stupid shit your sister does,
she took you to pet cows on your sixteenth birthday.
Remember to always see movies with your parents.
Remember to always thank Alex’s parents for having you over for dinner.
Remember to tell that guy you aren’t interested before he breaks up with his girlfriend for you.
Remember to always laugh at ‘That’s What She Said’ Jokes.

But most of all, past self,
Remember. No regrets.

Life, Life, Life…

So, in the interest of transparency, I have a lot going on right now.

I’ve accepted a promotion at my day job, which means I am leaving the place I have worked for the last ten years, and taking a new position in a new location with the same company. It’s scary, and I’m crazy nervous, but you know – nothing ventured nothing gained. I’m ready to leave the nest, and grow and learn in a new environment.

But because that is happening, it’s going to be a big adjustment period for me, so I’m going to… have to decrease my posting. I missed a Monday a couple of weeks ago, so I’m sure this isn’t entirely unexpected for those of you wonderful people who read this blog. Once the promotion kicks in, I will be working more hours, plus we’re heading into the holidays – and, if you didn’t already know, I work retail, so the holidays are basically murder. I’m trying to get a podcast off the ground with some friends, and I have my own writing to work on. Plus, until I find an apartment in my new location, I’ll be dealing with a commute that is NO FUN WHATSOEVER, and which will likely take a massive toll on my free time.

I know this just sounds like a lot of excuses, but I really don’t want to burn myself out. So… we are cutting the twice weekly posts to weekly. I’m considering posting on Wednesdays, which is a nice middle of the week slot, but may keep it to Fridays instead. As for this week, there will be a Friday post, but no Monday post next week!

Thanks y’all for your patience! And if you have any blog posts you would like to see, send them my way!

 

 

12 Random Questions

1. If You Had The World’s Attention For 30 Seconds, What Would You Say?
REMEMBER TO FLOSS YOUR TEETH EVERYDAY! AND STAY HYDRATED!

2. If You Had To Work But Didn’t Need The Money, What Would You Choose To Do?
Any type of writing. Or cuddling kittens. That counts, right?

3. What Is In Your Fridge Right Now?
Leftover pizza, yogurt, milk, coffee creamer, some fruit, some veggies. Pretty boring, typical stuff.

4. If You Were Home On A Rainy Sunday Afternoon, What Movie Would You Most Want To See On Television?
Jumanji! The 1995 version.

5. Where Do You Not Mind Waiting?
I don’t mind waiting anywhere, really. I usually bring a book along so the time doesn’t drag.

6. If You Could Close One Fast Food Chain, Due To Disgusting Food, What Would You Pick?
…Taco Bell. *braces for torches and pitchforks*

8. If You Could Be A Member Of Any TV-Sitcom Family, Which Would It Be?
Oddly enough, the Crane family from Frasier. I think I’m neurotic enough to fit in with Niles and Frasier, but chill enough to be like, a more laid-back, distant cousin of theirs at the same time.

9. What Would Be The Best Thing About Not Having A Sense Of Smell?
I have a fairly sensitive nose, so I would like being able to walk into a soap store or candle store without feeling nauseous.

10. Would You Leave Your Hometown Forever Or Stay In Your Hometown Forever?
I’d leave it forever, only because many of my friends have moved away, and my parents plan to leave within the next couple of years. Also, it’s a bit of a “backwards” area.

11. When Scrolling Through Social Media, Do You Prefer Posts From Celebrities Or From Your Best Friends?
Friends, but I enjoy commentary from my favorite celebs. It depends on the medium, though.

12. Is There An App That You Hate But Use Anyways?
I get really addicted to random games, but only ever have one on my phone at a time. I got sucked into a game called Wordscapes and got through 900+ levels in a week. I’m onto a new one now, so although I hate them… I still use them.

Questions borrowed from HERE.

The Hawk

Today, I was cruising along on my way to get my post-work Starbies (a venti iced cocoa cloud macchiato, if you wondered) when a flutter of feathers caught my eye. I directed my gaze just in time to watch a majestic hawk swoop down from atop a telephone pole and snatch a poor, furry creature – either a chipmunk or a squirrel, not sure which – up off the ground, and then fly away to enjoy the spoils.

So, basically… I witnessed a murder.

But, after I processed the trauma of seeing my second brutal rodent death (the first was a squirrel vs. van incident), I got to thinking. I felt bad for the rodent, of course – it didn’t deserve a grisly death, even though that’s the way of the world. It was just trying to scurry through some tall grass and find some seeds or nuts for lunch. But I think I also felt a kinship with it.

In certain elements of my life, I am more rodent than hawk. More discreet, meek, and aiming to squeak by unnoticed. The kind of creature that gets swooped on, scooped up, and made a meal of. Who fearfully watches the skies for any sign of talons, and hides from the shadow of wings overhead.

But, as I grow and learn, I am trying to be more like the hawk. I don’t want to be someone who snatches up and preys on the innocents, however. No… but someone who is keen-eyed, goal-oriented, and sharp. Who sees what they want and goes for it, even if it takes great patience to accomplish. Who strives for results and is not afraid to reach for them, even in the face of potential failure. To be feared, instead of fearful.

There is value in the way of the rodent – learning to be quiet, and to listen. To be watchful and mindful of others. But similarly, there is value in the way of the hawk – learning to be patient, but driven. To be strong-willed and willing to strike to achieve results. So maybe, the best way is to be a bit of both. Not quite feared, but not too fearful.

Or, you know…. just be a bear and hibernate for months at a time, or something.

 

 

Cyclical

Working in retail, you start to notice things about fashion… and the number one thing is that fashion is cyclical. Something deemed “unfashionable” one year can come back into style the next. Like, gel sandals are back in for reasons totally beyond my comprehension.

What’s in right now? From the stock I’ve seen come in, high-waisted jeans. Tie-front tops. Mismatching patterns. Crop tops. Bold colors. Animal print. Tie-dye. Paper bag waists. Ringer tees. Anything deemed “vintage.” Mom jeans. Tapered jeans.

Customers often complain to me because we stopped carrying a specific style of jean some years ago, but now, it’s coming back into fashion. Because it’s still available online, people buy them that way, but if they don’t fit, they bring them back to the store. Due to returns, I have enough pairs of them to create an entire fixture, yet we technically don’t carry them in store.

The biggest one I have noticed is the brand Champion, which primarily sells athletic apparel. The place I work has sold Champion for longer than I’ve worked there. Personally, I’ve always viewed it as a solid brand. Not as flashy as Nike, not as prestigious as Under Armour. The older generation would often stray toward it because of the cinch-bottom pants, lower cost, and reliability. The younger generation would turn their nose up at it because it was “uncool.” I buy their workout shirts because they fit nice.

Now, watching folks trickling in over the past few weeks for back to school shopping, I’ve seen more teenage boys try on and buy Champion apparel than ever before. I can’t get rid of the billions of Nike graphic tees that have been sent, but I can’t keep Champion on the shelves. And what they can’t find in the store, they find and buy online. It’s remarkable to me, how quickly the brand went from “lame” to the hottest brand in the eyes of teens and trend setters. I’ve even seen celebrities wearing Champion hoodies!

It’s wild to me, how quickly things change, and opinion shifts. Brands fall out of favor while others surge in popularity. Makes me want to stick to plain tee shirts and jeans – can’t go wrong that way.

And even if your clothes aren’t “fashionable” any more, but you don’t want to part with them… just hang on for a couple of years, and the cycle may swing back around.

Skim

When people judge me for my taste in clothes, I can brush it off. When I am judged for my weeaboo past, I don’t let it bug me. When I am judged for my choices in film, books, or television, I ignore it. But finally, I have been judged for something that really got under my skin.

I have been…. milk shamed.
You see, when I was a kid, I genuinely believed there was only one kind of milk. I thought milk was just milk – I didn’t understand why it tasted differently whenever I went to my best friend’s house. I thought the milk at her house tasted like it should have been served as dessert. I only later realized that it was because they drank whole milk, and the whole wide world of milk was brought to my attention. Now, we even have milk that doesn’t come from a cow at all!
But I grew up on skim milk. Drank it with every dinner, in my cereal, with cookies, and sometimes just a cup by itself as a refreshment. It is only recently that I became aware that skim milk is held in poor regard by many, and the negative reactions to it surprise me – especially because I genuinely enjoy skim milk, and still drink it, even now, when I am able to make my own dairy choices.

I’m so used to skim milk that I never felt like it was out of the ordinary. But while chatting with some coworkers last week, I mentioned that my milk of choice was skim, and my words were met with outrage and incredulity. Apparently, to some folks, skim milk is the equivalent of some sort of vile scum. I was ruthlessly attacked for drinking such “swill.” But I love it! My bones are fine, I’m not calcium deficient. To me, whole milk tastes far too rich for every day consumption – but I won’t ever milk shame someone over it, if that’s their milk of choice.

Skim milk is milk too, my friends. I will drink whatever milk I want, and should be able to do so in peace. As should everyone.

This Child

So, I know I do this a lot, but I just stumbled upon an old poetry assignment from high school… based upon the first Walt Whitman poem I ever read. I thought it was lost, but it was on an old flash-drive I recently dug up. Considering the huge effect that Walt Whitman’s poems have had on me since then, it feels like a gift to have rediscovered it.

My classmates and I were told to write our own poems based on Walt Whitman’s poem, “There was a child went forth everyday,” but to shape it around our own lives, and it had to end with Whitman’s own words, which I will italicize. I was 15/16 when I wrote it… might take a crack and writing a new one sometime, to reflect new experiences.

For Olde Poetry Monday, enjoy!

This Child

Doctors and white walls were a part of this child,
Needles in arms and IV’s in foreheads,
A bit of blood turned into life-saving power,
For one tiny, incubated figure,
Too frail to even utter a cry,
And as the years went on, the scar grew smaller,
Serving only to gently remind
Of painful days and cold linoleum.

Summerville was a part of this child,
The town where the sun never died,
Shoes weren’t needed, and southern drawls summoned,
From across the street,
This child’s head was filled,
With impossible dreams of otters,
And pretending that the backyard was some far-off land,
Though the boat she made out of cardboard
Never floated anywhere,
She was happy.

Books and rain-streaked windows were a part of this child,
This child, who sat in her closet for hours,
Wishing that she could find Narnia.
She thought that simply howling at the moon would make her a wolf,
And even though it was only a game,
She really thought was the World’s Greatest Pokemon Trainer.
And that she and her blonde-haired best friend,
Really could fly when they sat on the swingset,
And flung their shoes out over the mulch to see whose went the furthest.

Soccer fields were a part of this child,
A checkered ball hammered into the left corner,
And cleats smudged by mud and dew-kissed grass,
The freedom to run from white line to white line,
Avoiding elbows and knees, ignoring harsh words,
Enduring practice in sweltering heat,
Striving to become worthy of that pale green jersey,
And the number ‘3,’ emblazoned in white,
In the end, the cleats proved too big.
And she traded the jersey in for a pen and paper.

Terrified screams were a part of this child,
Being chased by the Licorice at Hershey Park,
Pursuing a hug that she did not want to relinquish,
To some creep in red and white, with a never-fading smile.
But screams turned into peals of laughter,
During remembered hours of hide-and-seek,
Out on the lake, fishing with Dad in the grey of the morning,
Setting the bass free that was meant to be breakfast.
And at sleepovers, when staying up until 11:00 was an incredible feat,
And we waited for the first girl to fall victim to sleep,
So her face could be decorated,
With the vibrant colors of a marker box.

Awkward silences were a part of this child,
A struggle to fit in, once moving vans carried a cherished friend away,
And the halls grew longer, the crowds heavier,
But friends were made at last, and kept,
The ‘See you soon’s’ written in the yearbooks became sincere,
And the taunts became distant echoes,
No longer heard in her ears.
Instead, laughter rang out in summer nights,
As fireworks crackled in the driveway,
Car rides down Friendship Avenue became adventures,
And text messages almost always exceeded 160 words.

Accidents were a part of this child,
Taking a horseshoe to the head,
Running headlong into a telephone pole,
That day, the race wasn’t much,
The competition poor,
But she ran her hardest, regardless of a sure-thing,
The steps were miscalculated,
But the baton left her palm,
Her feet left the red rubber,
The race won, but something else lost,
The only standing ovation she ever received,
Rang in her ears, even in the Emergency Room.

Boston was a part of this child,
Golden ducks at Boston Commons,
And free chocolate bars from the cute guy at Starbucks,
A house shared between 12 teens and 3 adults,
Attempting to share 3 bathrooms.
Something was found on the grey-paved streets,
Floating on the cold, salty Atlantic,
And in the embers of a towering campfire,
Perhaps it wasn’t what she intended to find there,
But it was real,
And those sharing the memories may be scattered,
But she can look at a simple cone of ice cream,
And remember,
That seven day journey to understanding.

Comic books were a part of this child,
All of her dreams packed into one word balloon,
Accentuated with sound effects in all the right places,
Inspired by vigilantes and men in masks.
Microsoft Word files exceeding 540 pages,
And a burning desire to see her name in print.
Will drive this child to pursue a new life,
If only this child can stave off procrastination,
To reach her distant dreams.

These became a part of that child who went forth every day,
And who now goes,
And will always go forth every day.

The Choices We Make

I have technically been an adult for 9 years, but in many ways, I feel like I’m not quite there. I sometimes forget that I am the master of my own destiny, the bearer of my own burdens, the navigator on my own stretch of road, and I determine the path, and how to handle the obstacles that arise. I can go out, buy a whole cake, and eat it all by myself if I feel like it, with no one but my conscience to stop me.

I’ve wanted a Nintendo Switch for a while now, and planned to buy one next month. Thanks to an employee special at work, I would be able to get one for a great price. And then, come November, I’d be playing Pokemon Shield, and making my way across the Galar region. And there would be a lot of Mario Kart, and maybe some Let’s Go Eevee! until then. Plus, I could play online with my two best friends – Mario Party is great fun when the three of us play together.

But I had my car inspection this week on my beloved Nissan, Vice. It has been a long while since I’ve needed anything done to it – I usually breeze through inspection with maybe a couple of tweaks, nothing major. So it was time, and $337 later, my wallet was a bit thinner than I would like it to be – and I’m looking at new tires in the near-ish future. Which won’t come cheap.

And so, I had a moment of clarity – that the choices we make can reflect where we are in our lives, and our values. I have bailed on plans because I don’t have the funds, but have also spent money on things that aren’t necessities. No matter how badly I want that Switch, it is going to have to wait until my Nissan has some new tires, even if I miss my initial chance to become the champion of the Galar League. So, I must be an adult for now… but eventually, play time will come around again.