It’s a slow night at work, so what have I been doing? I took a drink order, so I’m not entirely floundering for things to do. I *do* have things to do, especially in the efforts to get the new Muppets song Life’s a Happy Song out of my head. Believe me, if you like any of the Muppets at all, its a catchy tune that will be stuck in your head all day long.
A bit of a surreal day. I have another doctor’s appointment coming up in the next few days, and any worry I had laid to rest over the past couple of weeks, is resurfacing. I can’t handle the waiting. My mind is all over the place. The stupid thing is, this appointment will tell me something I never want to hear in a million years or it will tell me to be on antibiotics for awhile, and everything will be well. It’s one of two extremes, and the suspense is killing me. On top of that, I watched 50/50 last night with Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen. Talk about your dark comedies. I almost cried at several points. After the movie was done and over with, all the worries came back for myself. It’s not going to be an easy week mentally. I keep reminding myself whatever the result, it is the will of the Force. It would not present me with something I couldn’t handle. It doesn’t seem to quell the bubbles in my stomach.
I recently read an article in Woman’s Day magazine that more and more people are making the assumption about people and the diseases they have. For instance, if you have lung cancer, a high percentage of people will auotmatically assume you were a heavy smoker and one point in your life, if not currently one. So not true. No one wants cancer, but cancer can blossom out of anything. It seems to be a result of anything these days. The sun, certain medications, the processing of our foods, cell phones…pretty soon it will hair spray and dog food making us sick.
I suppose I’m in a weird mood because of all the possibilities looming over my head. It will work out the way its meant to. I have to believe it that way.
However, worrying and fretting are my worst traits. If guys don’t call me back after a date, it’s because I’m a fretter. Not a nail biter, ironically. Just a worrier. It takes its toll on my digestive system, and my hunger pains. I often don’t eat when I’m stressed. At least I’m not hiding who I really am.
I fret because I care.
“People always want to judge you on your ethnic background. For instance, if a white guy likes rap, he’s trying to be black. If a black guy gets a job, he’s trying to be white.”
Those are the words of Aisha Tyler, a sitcom star of her day.
Can’t say I totally agree with what she’s saying, but a get the gist of it. It’s like when people find out I’m a hard core Star Wars fan. They see my collection of goods, we talk about the movies more in-depth than they could possibly imagine…and then they drop the ax. It always happens…without fail. I’m starting to formulate T-shirts that express my true feelings.
To sum it up….No, I am not a Trekkie simply because I am waaaaaaayinto Star Wars.
Just because both of them have aliens and deal with space travel doesn’t mean I love both of them equally or even at all. I heart Star Wars. I *do not* like anything about Star Trek. The only thing I can appreciate about it is that Chris Pine, Eric Bana and Zoe Saldana were cast in the remake a couple years ago. That’s it. Nothing more. I don’t even have a clue what Star Trek is truly about. I know there’s a guy named Spok. True Trekkies are probably rolling in their graves right now, their eyes popping out of each and every socket. Ha! I’m sorry…but we’ll always be at war with each other.
Although, I did see this video a year or so ago, and really enjoyed it. Try and muster to ignore the fact the song is sung by Ke$ha (although, I will admit I secretly love some of her more popular hits.)
I will never be a Trekkie. My ex-boyfriend never understood why I couldn’t be both a Star Wars nerd and a Trekkie. One main reason? It has taken me years to gain the ranking in my fandom that I possess. No one has to ask me what I’m up to, or when I mention a new project I’m working on, they instantly know it’s related to Star Wars. Whenever anyone seems something even remotely related to my wonderful Force-filled universe? I get texts, phone calls, Facebook messages, random off-topic conversations. It takes years to build that sort of impression on people, and still be loved despite my obsession/livelihood. I’m not about to devote that much time to something I’ll have to learn to love, if I’d even like it at all.
Besides, I’m also a dedicated Grobanite, so I have to pick and choose my battles.
Ms. Aisha Tyler’s words could also be put towards my experiences as a farm girl. I wear the name loud and proud people. I am not ashamed that I grew up in the middle of nowhere with my back yard, my imagination, and my zillion pets as my best friends. Let me tell you…I had the sexiest fake boyfriend back in those days. Not only could he weild a lightsaber with expertise, but he was also well-dressed, well-mannered, romantic in all the right ways, damn good in bed, liked by my family, friends and royalty (he had a wide ranging social cirlce…far larger than mine), disciplined, he worked out on a regular basis, and smelled like freshly cut hay all the time. Maybe that’s why my ex-boyfriend told me I had high standards. He couldn’t match up to the fake romance of my youth. Wow, he was shown up by someone who doesn’t exist. Who’s the bigger fool? The one who dated him, or the one who ended it because he couldn’t live up to the standards?
I can be difficult sometimes, but I’m not overly demanding!
Being a farm girl definetly has its advantages. I certainly don’t depend on men if I don’t have to. Even when my dad would acknowledge he’d given me a chore that might be outside of my strength’s capabilities, I still told him to back off. What I couldn’t accomplish with strength, I gave it my call with creativity. I’m sure handy when it comes to old pieces of lumber and rigging up fulcrums of sorts. I can be very crafty.
The weirdest comment I have ever receieved when someone heard I grew up on a farm: “Really? You grew up on a farm? With animals and stuff? You don’t look sure don’t look like a farm girl.”
Okay…what the hell does that mean? Is it because I’m not chewing on a piece of straw wearing my ripped up jeans, button down shirt, and shit-covered boots? My hair is loose around my face without pieces of hay in it? Because it looks like I showered recently?
I don’t know what stereotypes are out there, but I can assure you, growing up on a farm was 100x better than growing up in the city. I had free non-polluted air. I exercised without even knowing I was exercising because I was constantly running around outside playing. My afternoon snack was often a handful of carrots or peas fresh from my mom’s garden. She didn’t care…she was happy we found those things delicious compared to the cookies stored in the kitchen cupboard. I’d read for hours out in our cow pasture, and when the sun was at a certain level, it was my job to chase them home for the evening milking, then help out with chores.
According to Ms. Aisha Tyler….who am I trying to be like now that I live in the middle of a rather large city attending the Academy? Probably a city kid….except if you spend on whole day with me, you’ll realize I wasn’t raised or meant to be in a city. I walk alot, especially when the weather’s nice. By the lake, out in the woods, just around the neighborhood, around the gym walking track. I don’t sit still. Ever. Along with being a fretter, I’m a fidgeter. Foot bounces up and down…up and down…up and down. People who fidget burn more calories than those who sit perfectly still!
Oh, poor Kate Middleton who has to look perfect all the time 😉
Be who you are going to be, people. Don’t let someone else dictate your every move or the way you should act. Someone I follow on Twitter today made the comment: People say you’ve changed when you no longer act the way they do. I like that saying for a variety of reasons, and I really like it if you’re acting in a better way than before. Don’t go backwards and turn into an asshole. No fun, and people tend to hate you more for it.
Be who you need to be. Don’t ever hide it. Me? I am a student, a Jedi in training. I am a farmer’s daughter, putting my strength to use for those who can’t. I am a reader of books, for reality sometimes needs to be escaped and imagination can solve more problems than most “intelligent” people realize. I am who I am.
A Jedi has to do what a Jedi has to do.