I kept meaning to update before school started, but procrastination can be very difficult to overcome. In the weeks leading up to classes starting, I played a lot of games through Steam (Summer Steam Sale, WOO!). Most of these,though, were acquired through the website Humble Bundle, a service that “bundles” electronic media for consumers (mostly video games, but also ebooks and music), allowing them to name the price they want. The site partners with different charities, allowing the purchaser to choose how to divide up the contribution between the creators, the charities, and the website’s fee. It’s a marvelous idea, and I like the thought of getting games being of benefit to the world, and not just between myself and the creators.
UPDATE: They now have a web store that donates to charity!
There are many more now in my Steam Library, and I won’t be playing much in the coming months due to school and work obligations, which is a shame. Except, I think for McPixel and Bleed, each of these games was not unlike reading a novel; there was a lot of depth to the story and overall experience, and a journey I will not be forgetting for a long while. Anyhow, besides working two part-time jobs, I managed to score a clinical internship at the local VA Hospital, which, in addition to my two classes this semester, will finally allow me to complete my AAS in Dietetics! Then, I only have to complete the credentialing exam to become a DTR! After that, I only to need to complete one class for my Culinary Arts Certificate, and I will be back in the workforce!!!!!
I am both enthusiastically and dreadfully expectant of that time.
An indication of how interesting my life might be today started at about 6:00 am. This hour is not my typical wake up time on a Friday, but my dad had scheduled for an exterminator to spray poison to ward off spiders, ants, and possibly other things we didn't want to think about crawling around in our walls, so we had to pack ourselves and our animals up to be gone by 7:30 am. The menagerie consists of one dog, three cats, and a tarantula. As a bit of a treat to keep us out of the house, we would go eat breakfast and take care of some errands in town.
In attempting to put our male cat in his cage, he repaid our foresight by mauling me rather well. I managed to acquire battle wounds all over my chest, stomach, and arms. Those who know me personally can guess how irritable I might be when injured, exhausted, and on an empty stomach before the magic of caffeine has calmed me somewhat. It didn't help that as my mother and I struggled to get the adult cats into their cage, my dad didn't really act for some time and merely questioned what the heck we were doing allowing ourselves to be attacked by the ferocious household felines. One of my favorite shirts must now be retired with full honors for attempting to stand up to shredding claws.
After the wild animals pets were dealt with, I had to change my shirt and bandage up. My little brother helped carry my sister's tarantula tank out to the car in the meantime. Unwilling to take pain meds on an empty stomach, I had to endure the 15 minute drive to the restaurant with falling blood sugar and increasing dizziness from the pain. However, the next interesting thing to occur, was the loud crash from the backseat where the tarantula cage was being stored as my mother made a tight turn. Understandably alarmed, she pulled over, and we had to talk my little brother through determining the simple observation of WHETHER OR NOT THE TANK TIPPED OVER. Little brother is not the most articulate of people on a good day. The next ten minutes are spent in tense silence as my mom fishes around in the tank with first my father's cane, then a hammer handle to make sure the tarantula is 1) in the tank, and 2) not squished. I was secretly hoping 2) would be proven false. Unfortunately, Fuzz Lightyear will live a little longer to rejoice at the rain of crickets his owner provides him.
Arriving at the restaurant it is now 7:52 am. I am moments away from a blood sugar crisis, and the stupid restaurant doesn't open until 8:00 am! Therefore an excursion must be made into the neighboring grocery store where I buy a mango/banana puree pouch for myself (and thusly, Sirenidi as well). Calmed, we have to wait outside while little brother goes to the bathroom before entering the restaurant. It is typical diner food and I settle for an egg, cheese, and bacon sandwich with iced tea. Somehow I managed to dust myself with sweetener while attempting to pour it into my drink. The joys of eating out, eh?
Next stop is getting a spare key made. My car is from a company decent enough to only manufacture ignition keys that require a computer chip to start the vehicle. They were also kind enough to only allow certain stores other than the dealership to make such keys. My town apparently only has such a store 20 miles from my house. My dad said he researched the place to find out what was needed, however he failed to ask if the car would be needed to program the key (spoiler: THEY DO). Therefore, we had to schlep the whole crew back to the house to actually fetch my car. Luckily, enough time had passed we could return and let the animals out without accidentally poisoning anyone. Of course, SOMEONE thought it was a good idea to let the dog loose before opening the cat cages, so my mom gets to have a repeat of a desperate freak out of the sort that anyone else would have assumed meant a murder was in progress had they heard it.
After so much excitement, I decide the best thing to do is take a nap. It was lovely. Then the day continued. My dad had forgotten he had scheduled to leave my car at the mechanic's to be serviced before my road trip. D'oh! I still had to return to the hardware store to get the spare ignition key made, so instead I went to a Jiffy Lube for a once over on the car. It takes nearly an hour for my key to get made when I return to the store, because the machine was being touchy. I was careful to control my anger tics.
Needing to buy a suitcase, as no one could remember where the ones we owned had ended up, I did some thrift store shopping. Ah, the soothing balm of a bargain. Then I arrive home to find that my mom had found the travel suitcases. FACEPALM!
Then more chaos happened as my parents realized that dinner, preparations for the day trip to the lake the next day, and me attempting to pack needed to happen, and fast! Becerra family excursions can quickly become needlessly complicated if no one tries to organize. We shall see what may come of trying to bond over sand, expensive snack bars, and the Nevada weather in August upon the morrow.*
*This statement indicates there may or may not be an update about Saturday's day trip.
I have been quiet over on this blog of late, life just got in the way.
My latest internship opportunity has been weighed down by bad timing, miscommunication, and a terrible bout of "what are we doing?"
Such things have left me uninspired and unwilling to pursue much in the way of creative outlets. Family isn't much help, either. With each passing day, I grow more worried about my father. He's lost a lot of weight, is in constant pain, and has trouble remembering things. I'm not thinking it's dementia, but there is a strong case for it.
Luckily, I'll be getting away for a little while traveling the roads of the northwestern states, so maybe some battery recharging will help matters before the new school year starts.
Today I woke to my mom screaming bloody murder at the dog like it was killing something. Actually he was just chasing one of our cats around the yard (again), which never leads to actual death, and is not likely to. The dog is afraid of the young cat in our house that is 1/8 his size, see, and he only ever chews on synthetic products or his rawhide bones. The entire house was nicely awake after this episode.
I arrived at my new internship site on time, but had to wait, as no one else could access the computer database I needed in order to do my job that day. After an hour I was permitted to leave, as my supervisor who did know how to work the database had not arrived, nor left any message as to where she was. About 45 minutes after leaving, I not only discovered that Walmart apparently didn't sell lunch box freezer packs, but my supervisor had made it into the office.
Swinging back to said office, I was finally permitted to search through 29 pages of data, looking for any errors. Five hours later I managed to finish the project, after some boosts from my good friend caffeine. Somewhere between walking out the building and to my car 30 ft away, I lost my last pair of sunglasses, D'oh!
By this time it was well after 5:30pm, and I had promised to visit a friend. Also needing to wash my car, I got a sandwich at Port of Subs, headed to the nearby auto car wash, and jammed to indie rock and the swoosh of running water while I ate.
Visiting my friend went well, I got to show off my new ipad, and we chatted about random stuff. We're going to the midnight showing of Dark Knight Rises, it's gonna be awesome! I headed to the nearby shopping center and managed to score a 2/$15 deal on sunglasses. They fit nice enough, but I noticed on the 30 minute drive home that they put a lot of aching pressure on my nose. So the search is still on.
Kind of a crazy Monday, not sure if these events will be an indicator of the rest of the week...
This post started out as a meandering meditation on language, but quickly spiraled into a painful reflection on my present life, so feel free to opt out when things get too depressing.
I have been reading the Success with the Gentle Art of Verbal Self-Defense by Suzette Haden Elgin while at work, interspersed with endocrinology, urinology, and water retention. Though only part way, the discussion of language in that book has me drifting over memory and the present, as I struggle to give meaning to the English language to ESL students desperate to have a slip of paper to prove they have comprehended what the American educational system believes to be standard.
Words were my first pursuit in the realm of academia, and books were a longtime friend since I was small and realized real people weren't always as great to interact with as the characters in a story, or learning things about the world beyond my own corner of reality. It took me a long time to agree an English degree was what I wanted out of my first college experience. I wasn't confident enough to pursue music or art, and did not want to be mired in the bizarre dance of conducting scientific research. Looking back, I see how much time and resources were wasted on a degree I only had the slightest idea of how I could apply to a career.
A lot people ask me, upon finding out I have an English degree, "Oh, are you going to be a teacher?" To which I respond, "no," and then attempt to explain how an English degree is useful for more things than making sure people know how to read and write. In a rather hilarious bit of irony, it's what I find myself doing a lot in the short-term employment I find while pursuing other academic subjects.
Not that I have anything against teachers, I just hate the American public school system. Yes, I could very well try to get a position in the private education sector, but choices are slim, and it gets very cutthroat. I have worked in part-time positions for elementary schools, both in after-school tutoring programs as well as in-class help. The people I see aren't very happy, not the teachers, the staff, nor the students. I can't imagine it gets any better at higher education levels, as any time I peer around my own lecture halls, I see mixtures of boredom, disbelief, and an eagerness that is rarely directed toward the professor.
As it stands now, I can't with good conscience say I am one of the attentive students, but that has more to do with my personal distaste of anatomy and physiology than any fault or laziness in my personality. The fact I'm hovering around a B+ in that class while by no means putting in the focus I'm normally capable of should more than prove my intelligence and studious capability. Still, I look at what my life has become, and worry about the future.
I used to avidly watch anime and television, and keep up with what movies would be interesting to see in theaters. I devoured fantasy and science fiction novels by the wagonful, and webcomics and graphic novels at an even greater rate. Heck, I remember being able to keep up with discussions on the latest video games with my brothers and friends, whereas now I have to be constantly reminded of what is even on the shelves. I have hundreds of bookmarked sites that I used to check daily, the stories borne on the waves of cyberspace pulling my attention for a welcome brief time. I'm not sure when I fell into this rut of waiting, barely surfing the internet for something to distract me for a couple of hours, trying in vain to either study or find that job that will stay longer than a few weeks or months. I don't even make things at home beyond a loaf of bread or a batch of cookies anymore. My rpg gaming group is even starting to grate on my nerves, everything seeming so mediocre. Am I expecting too much? There was a time when coming up with a new story, a new character ignited a spark and drove me for days on end; when going out to meet people and push myself to creative new heights was everything.
This new house could be part of the problem, I live 30 minutes from an actual town, and going out does cost money, both in travel and on arrival. Nevada has become stagnant and stifling. Even my family members seem worn down and exhausted by the passing of time. The fact I can't, have a dozen reasons why I physically cannot leave this space to find something to awaken that drive in me is so depressing. I want new faces, new conversations, people who can understand my literary geekiness and obsession with various fandoms, or at least have heard of the bands I listen to. I need someone to shake me up and make me want to make new things again, to reach for more. I hesitate to call what I'm feeling depression, as this feels more like ennui and frustration. I'm stuck in the mire and I have no idea how to get out.
Instead I have to be an adult and keep trudging forward to complete my Dietetic Technician certificate and hope that the universe is kind enough to help me find the resources to build a financially stable business on that. Maybe then I can soar and feel that thrill of success, that spark of joy of having made something of myself that has impact on the world.
If you don't wish to read about a crazy-ass weekend, I leave you with some entertaining tidbits from Neil Gaiman and Stephen Colbert that I came across in my net surfing.
Anyhow, the craziness started on Friday, when I made the suggestion to take my sister and niece out thrift store shopping. We had made plans for a two hour outing, with a stop at a Chinese food restaurant for lunch after my niece returned from preschool. That ought to leave enough time to take the cats to the vet for their shots at 5:00. Unfortunately, we both should have known better than to make plans with fate being the trollop it is.
My dad had arranged for a repair service to come fix our stove that morning, for which the scheduled time was any point between 8am and 12pm. To further confuse things, my older brother had randomly decided to get his truck serviced, so he would need to be picked up from the university campus after his classes ended in the afternoon. Plus, my younger brother required transportation to and from his job as a sign waver for Quiznos during the lunch hour.
At first, the arrangement would be for my dad to take my brother to work if we would pick him and my other brother up. Fair enough, as we would have to wait for my niece's school bus anyway. Repair person arrived in the designated window, but took three hours to fix the faulty burner on the stove. During that time I had to make an effort to clean the revealed stove siding, since it was incredibly disgusting. Also we all snacked on one of my homemade ice creams while we waited. By then it was late, and we had to have my dad pick up younger brother.
Since it was nearly time to pick up older brother, my sister suggested getting a snack at Sonic. BEST IDEA YET. She paid for onion rings, mozzarella sticks, and slushes, aw yeah. When older brother called with his location, I thought it would be best to get a map to the building, since I am horrible with finding things, especially at the university. My sister fires up the dang GPS, which takes us to the clear opposite side of the campus where my brother is at. *facepalm* After some finagling on the phone with older brother, we figure out where to actually go. He is much more calmed after chugging a Sonic Cherry Slush. I drop him off at the auto shop, since his truck is done.
Good grief. It is now after 3:00, and we finally make it to the restaurant. We get some quick combo plates, and I indulge in lemon chicken even after the deep-fried snack I had, because I needed to be pacified from the enormous time wasted already. My niece predictably takes a shower with her chow mein. It was estimated at least 80% ended up in her belly, anyway.
Finally we arrive at the thrift store. My sister asks to wander off for pants and bags, so I take it upon myself to find some dressy play shoes for the niece. They have nice shoes at the thrift store, but not many in her size. It was also difficult to get niece to understand the concept of wiggling her toes to check growth room in the shoes. Still, she ended up with a nice pair of strappy tap heels, that she promptly decided were for her to wear to "ballerina class," and thus kept asking the rest of the time we were in the store when we would go to said "ballerina class." I cannot wait until this child can understand concepts of time.
By then it was past 4pm, and while I was all for heading straight home, my sister brilliantly changes her mind and wants me to drive to pick up her girlfriend. Ugh. Girlfriend happened to live over in east Sparks, while we were in south Reno! The easiest way to get there would be to do some freeway hopping, but with the recent remodeling, people were stupider than usual and clogging up the exits to change freeways. So I had to pull a little back street maneuvering to get to girlfriend's house.
After picking up girlfriend, she apparently needs a sandwich, having not eaten for awhile. Sister also wants to pick up booze, and younger brother called to have us pick up DVDs at the store, please. I am thoroughly surprised at myself at this point for not banging my head repeatedly on a hard, firm surface. Mother arrives home from work early on Fridays, so at least she was on hand to deal with the cats' visit to the vet. Girlfriend and sister argue about where to get booze while we make a stop at Quiznos for a sandwich and Office Depot for DVDs. Niece is incredibly cranky from sitting in the car so long, as am I.
I solve the booze dilemma by driving to Raley's, which happens to be near the vet. I check in with my parents, pulling a double hit by showing off niece's new shoes. Now, since school started, I have made a habit of checking on what dinner will be, so I can either a) join the family or b) buy/make something healthier. My father claims we will shop briefly at the store to pick up some things for a dinner of steak for the boys and meatloaf for them, this way we can grab something me and my sister would be willing to eat. I agree with this plan, and head from the vet's to Raley's with my niece to get a head start. Apparently my sister and her girlfriend picked out their liquor really quick, because they were already in the parking lot looking for me. I tried to explain the plan to them, but apparently my dad pulled a typical 180º and decided that, no, we would not be shopping, as all we needed at the house was sour cream.
Trying not to punch something, I quickly decided that I would shop for my dang dinner as I'd planned. Returning my niece to her mother, I returned to the store to get sour cream, arugula, and turkey thighs. I also found some nice red bell peppers. Arriving at home with my purchases, I found that creating a pulled turkey sandwich with an old poultry spice blend I'd made was a really satisfying meal. The wine slushee probably helped too. Then of course, nothing could stay perfect and I had to help my dad bake the meatloaf. Which didn't come up to temperature even after over an hour of baking at 350º. This situation is why I tell my father to stop shopping at cheap grocery chains like Scolari's.
As for today's happenings, all I will say is that opera, Krull, and spiced pumpkin ice cream make things happy in my brain.
Also, before I forget, this was a recent Pastry Arts project:
White cake with chocolate fudge buttercream, coffee syrup, butterfinger chip sprinkles, and topped with brown sugar caramel (penuche). The layering turned out well, and I'm rather proud of the piping! (Yes it's only five rosettes, but it's sadly the best I've done). We are also going to be making intermezzo sherbets for the up and coming culinary school student's restaurant experience, and I was granted permission to make this sorbet. I'll be making the soda from scratch, but I'm considering running to the store for the ginger beer just in case ;)
