When I was younger, like nearly 1/4th my current age, I was told that I should learn how to type because it was a useful skill. As time went on I kept being told by teachers and other authoritative adults that I should learn how to time. I didn't really care until someone said that when I started working I would only be typing and I'd never have to hand write something ever again.
Being the niave and trusting person I was, especially toward authoritative figures, I took learning how to type to heart and as a promise.
I don't really hate my handwriting, but I don't like it much either. It's chunky and inconssistant. Lines waver even when there are lines to write on. It just doesn't look good.
The problem is, the authoritative adult didn't make a promise and my chunky, inconsistant handwriting shows up all over the place at work.
Another reason life is unfair.
Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts
Friday, April 18, 2014
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Alius Vita
I was born early in 1941 to two wonderful people.
I'm not exactly sure where we lived. It was flat. And cold. And I was kept inside our little house most of the time.
Sometimes I'd be propped up to look out the front window over the porch, that how I know it was so flat. I knew it was cold because the barren fields were covered in frost and whenever people would walk by the window on their way to the door, they blew steam out their mouth.
When the weather warmed up, I was taken outside more, but I was usually lying down in a stroller, or buggy, or whatever they were called then, and there was some sort of a canopy to, supposedly, keep the sun off me. It really just made it so I couldn't see. I wasn't propped up in the window as much at that time, either. That probably had something to do with the fact that my father was gone more often during the day. Maybe not.
In December, my father, along with a lot of other fathers, decided to join the Navy. Early in the next year, he was gone and my mother decided to move us from our house into the house my grandparents lived in. She got postcards with pictures of clear water and odd trees and sand. She cried when she got them.
My father died near some place called Tarawa in 1943.
I didn't know that at the time, though, since I had died nearly a year earlier. Whooping cough got me.
Aloha, as the letters my father sent my mother always said.
In the spring of the last year of the eighth decade of the last century, I was born again, to two different, but equally wonderful, people.
This time, Dad didn't join the Navy and I made it past my second birthday.
As I grew I started to remember things, like being propped up in a window watching the flat, frost covered land. I remembered moving from a little one-story house into a much larger two-story one. I remembered being tiny and coughing so hard I'd throw-up all over myself, the floor, or anyone who was holding me. And I remembered the last time I fell asleep.
If I had survived my bout with whooping cough in the last pass, I'd be 66 now. I'd either be retired or expecting to retire soon. Even if I hadn't accomplished anything up to that point, at least I could be proud that I had survived long enough to be done with something.
I wonder what I would have been. I wonder who I would have known.
In college, I took a trip to Washington to find out what happened to the former me's father. That's where I learned he died near Tarawa. I found out how he died. I even learned where he came from and to whom he was married. I never searched for information like that again.
I may remember parts of that life, but it's not mine. It was someone else’s, and he didn't make it. There's no reason for me to dwell on it.
I'm not exactly sure where we lived. It was flat. And cold. And I was kept inside our little house most of the time.
Sometimes I'd be propped up to look out the front window over the porch, that how I know it was so flat. I knew it was cold because the barren fields were covered in frost and whenever people would walk by the window on their way to the door, they blew steam out their mouth.
When the weather warmed up, I was taken outside more, but I was usually lying down in a stroller, or buggy, or whatever they were called then, and there was some sort of a canopy to, supposedly, keep the sun off me. It really just made it so I couldn't see. I wasn't propped up in the window as much at that time, either. That probably had something to do with the fact that my father was gone more often during the day. Maybe not.
In December, my father, along with a lot of other fathers, decided to join the Navy. Early in the next year, he was gone and my mother decided to move us from our house into the house my grandparents lived in. She got postcards with pictures of clear water and odd trees and sand. She cried when she got them.
My father died near some place called Tarawa in 1943.
I didn't know that at the time, though, since I had died nearly a year earlier. Whooping cough got me.
Aloha, as the letters my father sent my mother always said.
In the spring of the last year of the eighth decade of the last century, I was born again, to two different, but equally wonderful, people.
This time, Dad didn't join the Navy and I made it past my second birthday.
As I grew I started to remember things, like being propped up in a window watching the flat, frost covered land. I remembered moving from a little one-story house into a much larger two-story one. I remembered being tiny and coughing so hard I'd throw-up all over myself, the floor, or anyone who was holding me. And I remembered the last time I fell asleep.
If I had survived my bout with whooping cough in the last pass, I'd be 66 now. I'd either be retired or expecting to retire soon. Even if I hadn't accomplished anything up to that point, at least I could be proud that I had survived long enough to be done with something.
I wonder what I would have been. I wonder who I would have known.
In college, I took a trip to Washington to find out what happened to the former me's father. That's where I learned he died near Tarawa. I found out how he died. I even learned where he came from and to whom he was married. I never searched for information like that again.
I may remember parts of that life, but it's not mine. It was someone else’s, and he didn't make it. There's no reason for me to dwell on it.
Useless Labels:
lies
Monday, April 30, 2007
GAAAAAAAAAAH
The winds shifted, or something, last Friday and my allergies have decided that they want me writing in misery. I wish they wanted me dead, instead.
When I'm outside, my eyes are alternating between itching and burning while they try to dribble out all the liquid in my bodies.
My nose doesn't seem to care if I'm inside or outside. It dribbles snot that has the consistency of 1:2 Elmer's Glue and water. It tickles and itches to know end. And it's made me sneeze so much that my head is only a few more sneezes away from migraine territory.
If I still lived in Cowtown, my allergy season would be winding down about now. I don't live there though, I live here. And that means I probably have another six to eight weeks of this misery.
Oh, well, at least there's a Weird Al show in June to look forward to.
When I'm outside, my eyes are alternating between itching and burning while they try to dribble out all the liquid in my bodies.
My nose doesn't seem to care if I'm inside or outside. It dribbles snot that has the consistency of 1:2 Elmer's Glue and water. It tickles and itches to know end. And it's made me sneeze so much that my head is only a few more sneezes away from migraine territory.
If I still lived in Cowtown, my allergy season would be winding down about now. I don't live there though, I live here. And that means I probably have another six to eight weeks of this misery.
Oh, well, at least there's a Weird Al show in June to look forward to.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Got It
Did I ever write that I got that program I wanted? It came in the mail two, or so, weeks ago. I haven't been able to run it, though, because I need to connect to the interwebs to get a key to make it run. (I may also need a different version of Windows (XP Professional) to run the thing and a better video card, sigh.) So, I signed up for a free 30 day thing to call up over the phone so I can get the damn code so I can run the program so I can hopefully have something at my apartment that I want to do besides watch my DVDs and snack.
Useless Labels:
computer crap,
lies,
me
Friday, February 23, 2007
NEWS FLASH!
Even though I never met her and actually think she was disgusting, I am the father of Anna Nicole's baby, Dani Lynn.
I am the one who is entitled to raise the baby in the comfort that her probable billions will provide. It'll only be the best for the baby.
I promise I won't take advantage of the situation.
I promise, really.
I am the one who is entitled to raise the baby in the comfort that her probable billions will provide. It'll only be the best for the baby.
I promise I won't take advantage of the situation.
I promise, really.
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