Another scorcher round these parts today. I ended up attempting to fall asleep around 4 AM last night (it being an impromptu movie night for us we watched Constantine and then I did my usual dicking around on the PC for no reason) and got woken at 8AM by a call from my dad.
Me: ::doing a reasonable job of sounding awake and non-patricidal:: Hello father.
Dad: [Wiana], can you do me a favor and check to see if I took the - uhm - hot water bottle off the fire?
Me: ::eyebrow raised:: Hot water bottle?
Dad: The hot water bottle.
Me: ::slowly:: The hot...water...bottle?
Dad: ::sound of teeth being sucked:: Hot water bottle. You know what I mean.
Me: The kettle. You mean the kettle, right?
Dad: Yeah, the kettle.
Me: *sigh* Bye, dad.
He's a little brain damaged (aneurysm twenty years back) but the ass thing is that he'd never admit he's impaired, to the point where he's yelled at us when we don't understand what he means (usually when it comes to naming objects or things, although it's come to light recently that he undergoes conversational lapses, which explains a hell of a lot). I'd be more understanding if he wasn't such a raving jerk on the occasion. I love the dude, but he's NOT the easiest man to live with [insert the "omgwtfkgjh I have to get out of this house" bit].
So right. Get up out of bed and it's just...yesh! Sweat was running down my body, my clothes were sticking to me, my face felt like the Exxon Valdez spilled all over it during the night...not pleasant at all. No, father didn't leave the "hot water bottle" on the stove. Trudged downstairs, all icky, came back up, all icky. Attempted to go back to sleep. Of course, my alarm went off fifteen minutes later.
There's this huge expectation riding on me that I'll be something or someone "big and important". I'm feeling it more and more lately, particularly since I'm barely working and I've been scrambling in order to find some way to pay my exorbitant nursing school fees. I paid all that money for my education when I didn't need to. I'm saddled with all this debt and I'm only 25. I think it'd be okay if I had some life to speak of and a definite idea of what I'm going to do, but - drawing a blank. No blinkin' clue. I'm just fumbling from one thing to the next, trying to make sure I keep above water and don't screw my family over too much. Sometimes I'm bitter. I wish someone had pointed out what I was doing was idiotic and forced me to go to another school, or take time off after my first year to figure out where I was heading, but my folks didn't know any better. Really. My mother talks and talks about how I've messed up, but she had not a damn thing of importance to say when I needed her to say "what the FUCK do you think you're doing?" I mean, for my family I guess I'm not doing too badly: my mother had two kids and less than a year of college under her belt when she was my age. My sister has roughly the same, although she does have a swell state job under her belt. I'm just really confused and I keep worrying that I'm digging my hole deeper and deeper. And the only time you truly figure out how deep the hole is happens to be waaaaaaay after the fact.
That rambling piece of tripe came out because today I went for a pre-screener at the local Starbucks and signed for an additional school loan. The pre-screener happened in the Main Street Starbucks. I love Main Street: when I walked into Starbucks the first three people I saw were two Buddhist monks and an Army man in full fatigues standing next to one another. It struck me as funny. It still strikes me as funny, actually. The pre-screener was ridiculous, even for a pre-screener. They asked me the usual "what experience do you have?" and "why do you want to work for Starbucks?" (answers: "I have a Bachelors of Science in Psych and am grossly overqualified, seeing as I worked in the food service industry for five years, but hire me anyway because I so fucking need the money" and "I NEED MONEY, asswipe!" respectively ... in my head) and then "what do you like about coffee or tea?" So ridiculous. Like they give a crap what you say, they just want a malleable peon who can give the masses overpriced poison in a cup without fighting the establishment (I say as if I didn't JUST finish a tall sweetened ice coffee with cream). I gave them the answers I've been trained to give, and the guy wrote them down in handwriting that looked pretty damn illegible to me. He said if they liked what they saw they'd give me a call back whenever. I'm not holding my breath.
The loan - well, what can you say? A loan is a loan is a loan. My credit's not the best so I got slaughtered with the interest. I'm contemplating asking my dad to co-sign, but I'm hesitant because I don't want to involve any more family in my money problems. Eh. Hopefully I get a job as soon as I graduate making the 60G+ numbers I've been hearing RNs get in the city nowadays and I can pay whatever I owe back as quickly as possible.
Too many "if"s in my future for me. And, oh my God, am I SO tired of hearing the sanctimonious "nothing is certain" refrain and variations.
On a totally unrelated yet very cool note, on the Justice League thread I follow at Television Without Pity
, one of the writers from JLU started visiting recently and posting stuff about the show. I got a silly thrill over him responding to a comment I'd made on the latest episode of the show. Television Without Pity - one of the best places to waste time on the web if you're into television shows.
Enough pimpage for one post.