Traveling Thoughts

This is something that has bugged me for years, and it actually really came into realization how much it bugged me when I lost contact for a couple years with a good friend because his girlfriend was overly possessive and wouldn’t let him talk to his friends that were girls. I have a huge problem with guys that are possessive in that same manner. I believe that that kind of possessiveness goes to show just how much you really don’t trust the person that you’re with. But that’s possessiveness on a “we’re together” relationship level.

The other kind of possessiveness that I can’t deal with is on the friendship level. I was a tomboy growing up, all my friends were guys, I was more likely to have a guy friend than I was to have a girl friend just because I wasn’t prissy enough to hang with the girls and I didn’t care about primping and preening or barbies or any of that stuff too much, it just wasn’t my thing. I was more into the mud and digging holes for cars and trucks and dinosaurs to go through or put me on the grass field with a ball and I was happy.

Some of the guys that I’m friends with seem to think it’s their place to tell me about how the other guys that I’m friends with are not good. That pisses me off to no end. I’ll choose my friends and I don’t need my other friends moderating them. I don’t need some guy “friend” telling me about my standards and how they’re going to go out the window when I go head over heels for the next guy that crosses my path. I don’t need guys being jealous and thus getting possessive because they don’t want me talking to/seeing the other guy. I don’t need possessiveness in my life and I won’t stand for it.

I don’t need a leash around my neck, not by friends that are boys and not by boy friends. And that’s what the possessiveness of boys makes it feel like, it’s as though I can only go so far before I get yanked back and told what I can and cannot do.

I am a free spirit, and I will not be controlled by anyone. I’ll only put up with possessiveness for so long until I’m out of there friend of a long time or friend of a short time.

Every year when the year begins (January now that I’m in the real world, August when I was in school) I would always get an agenda, in middle school and high school, they gave them to us, in college I had to buy them, and now as a worker bee, I get a little black book. But let me back up a little, when I was in school, I always had the best of intentions, I was going to keep my agenda updated with my assignments and my study times and study dates and group meetings. It’d last if I was lucky two months, but usually by the end of the first month I was already unenthused with have to keep organized and my ability and plan to stay organized would die a quick death.

This year is the first year I’ve not been enrolled in school when August rolled around (so I didn’t get a new agenda), but when January rolled around I went to Barnes and Noble (my favorite bookstore) and while I was perusing for books I decided I would look at date books, I didn’t want anything fancy or big, I didn’t need any pictures or sayings, something simple would do fine (I thought to myself as I stood staring at the wall of calendars and day planners). I found a little black book, ok, it’s not exactly little, but it’s little in my head compared to some of the other day planners. It’s a MoleSkine weekly notebook and I absolutely love it. I’ve been doing really good of keeping track of my appointments, my house sitting jobs, and most importantly, my vacations. We’re five weeks into me having this day planner and I’m still excited about it. And since I’ve got stuff planned all the way into December written into it (including video game releases) there’s really just no way I’m going to let this one drop by the wayside like I did with my agendas while I was in school (it’s almost as though since I can write down vacations in my book it’s worth keeping and definitely more exciting than just assignments and due dates).

I keep it in my satchel so that it’s with me at all times. In fact, two weeks ago at the doctor’s office they asked if I needed an appointment card and I said “no, it’s ok, I’ll write it in my book” and when I pulled it out, Jerry (one of my favorite nurses) said “oooooh, it’s even a little black book.” Sadly for them, there really wasn’t anything of interest in it.

When I was a senior in high school they were preparing us for what would be our first presidential election, the election of 2000. I remember rolling my eyes every time they mentioned it and how important it was to vote and that it was just as equally important that we knew where we stood on the issues. I knew it was important to vote, because that gave me a right to complain, the issues though, I could’ve cared less about those. I wouldn’t even spend the time finding out what the issues were because I felt that every political commercial or debate wasn’t about telling what a person was going to do to better the country and how things were going to be different, it was all about the stuff that the other candidates did that made them unworthy of the position that they were running for. I hated that, and it turned me off when I was fairly young.

I can remember riding in the car with mom and pathetically asking “when are all these signs going to be gone, vote for this person, vote for that person, this district that district…blah blah blah” it’d happen every time there was something that had to be voted on. They really just disturbed me. And there was a long time where I refused to watch TV because the only commercials I ever saw were political commercials.

Every time that I have voted, I go to dad and ask him who he’s voting for because he keeps up on the issues and follows the candidates and I’ll sit down with the newspaper and copy his little slip so that when I go press the buttons the same way he does, because I feel that he knows best for me.

This year it’s changed, for some reason in the past month or so I’ve started reading news sites like cnn or msnbc, I’ve started watching a little bit of what’s going on on TV. I’m starting to read a little about what the various candidates have done in their pasts and how that might effect what they’re going to do if they become president. I can come home at the end of the day and sit down and talk to him and have a grown up conversation about what I may have read and what I think about it.

I’ve entered a new world, a world that I didn’t use to care about because I didn’t think that it mattered, but I will say this, I currently feel that no matter who becomes president, we’re screwed. I just really don’t like any of the peeps that are running, and where I didn’t care before, I’m now feeling that I have to choose among the lesser of evils. There is no straight line because both sides are equally as messed up as the other sides.

This November will be the 3rd time that I’ve voted for a president and this November will be the first time that I’ll be truly aware of what it is I’m voting for.

In light of Heath Ledger’s death which I’ve been watching a little more closely than I normally do when it comes to celebrities, I thought I might take this time to write about how I don’t much care about the lives of celebrities. Here’s the thing about celebrities, beyond their stardom in movies or as a musician/singer/songwriter or as an athlete or whatever makes celebrities a star, they’re normal people. They do everything that we as “normal” people do. I think that they get fucked up because of us, the normal people that don’t think that celebrities are normal people, that there’s something about them that makes their lives interesting or something. And it’s slightly frustrating to me. It’s like they’re not allowed to lead “normal” lives as the paparazzi are always around trying to get the latest story the latest angle the newest pictures to put in magazines and online so that they can feed the hungry crowds that are craving the news of some fucked up celebrity.

Why is it that we do that, what causes us to think wow, look at that person… I’ll give an example, Brittany Spears, she’s been to rehab, she’s done some crazy crap, she’s in a custody battle, she’s lucky if she gets to see her sons. What makes that so different from the people down the street that are having the same issues? Why do we care about the celebrities that are going through the same stuff as us, the normal peeps.

I mean, think about it, do you sit and talk about your best friend’s husband who left his wife in the name of being with some other woman (from a job, a friend, etc) the way Brad Pitt left Jennifer Aniston to be with Angelina Jolie.

Do you sit and talk about friend X who is single and yet yesterday was seen with person Y and three days before that was seen with person Z.

Is it so abnormal for there to be “work” romances in your jobs?

I think that celebrities are fucked up because we the “normal” people drive them to craziness. Lindsay Lohan, how many times has she been arrested for DWI or DUI, a few…now tell me that you don’t have at least one friend that has been arrested for the same thing…and when you think about it, unless you’re a really good person with really good friends, you can possibly have a couple friends that have been arrested for DWI.

Do you ever think that celebrities would lead more normal lives if we just left them alone and didn’t worry about them? That even if we were wanting to know about them there’d be less drama for us to read/watch/listen to?

It’s just something that drives me crazy, celebrities aren’t all that in my opinion, they’re just people, just like me, and they have problems just like me, and just as I don’t want all my problems to be known by everyone, there’s no reason for me to be concerned with theirs.

For Top Secret Tuesday this week, I’m going to discuss the peculiarities of movie theatres (the ones I have at least).

I go to movies often, at the end of the year if you count up all my ticket stubs you’re looking at at least 52 movies (1 a week) there have been years where I saw over 70 movies, I think the year I saw the most movies it was over 80 and that’s because Star Wars Episode 3 was seen 12 times.

There’s really only 1 theatre that I’ll go to simply because I have self determined the best place to sit based on being in the sounds of the movie and the picture. I don’t like the super souped up theatre because of the way it was designed and I’m not a fan of the dollar theatre so I go to the middle class theatre (as I so refer to it).

When I was little I used to sit far up top because I thought that was the best place, I don’t know what I was thinking, because it wasn’t the best place, you see all of everybody below you and that’s just not cool. Now adays, at the one theatre I go to, I sit in the 5th-6th row, 6th row being my preferred row, 5th if the 6th is not available. If there’s an odd number of seats, I count and sit in the middle one. If there’s an even number of seats, I’ll test the middle two and see which one feels more middlish before settling in.

There used to be a time when I would show up 10 minutes after the starting time because then I could avoid most of the previews and just watch the movie. I now show up early because chances are if I’m planted in my seat early on then no one will sit in the seats immediately next to me, which I appreciate. I have this issue with people sitting right next to me, some of them are too big for their seats so they overflow into my space, some of them insist on making small talk with you, and some are just unhygienically acceptable and shouldn’t have been allowed out in public in the first place before taking a bath. I know that that’s harsh, but that’s me.

There’s not much I hate at the theatres (in general, up there was personal) except for the inconsiderate parents that bring their crying children, the people that insist on sitting in the theatre and talk the entire movie (seriously, if you wanted to talk why did you come to the movie), and peeps and their cell phones (although by sitting fairly close to the front I don’t much encounter this anymore).

I woke up one morning a few days before a business trip I was taking in Dec and said to myself, I need a Pokémon game for my DS. It was something about the grey gloomy weather outside that had reminded me of the days I spent in highschool playing through the Pokémon Red and Blue games. The playability on those games just never ceased, it was impossible to get all the Pokémon for whichever version I was playing in one run through, I had to keep playing in order to catch them all. In fact, I can still remember the commercial, the link cable and the Pokémon jumping on it and running between the buildings and the guy looking up from the ground…That was so long ago it seems, I was in highschool, a junior in highschool when Pokémon entered the world.

I played through Pokémon Red, Blue, Yellow, Silver, Gold, and Crystal and then I sold the games and never returned to Pokémon because I was tired of having to do the same thing on several game cartridges just to catch ‘em all.

I was sucked into the whole Pokémon Mystery Dungeon Blue because I was like, cool, I can play as the Pokémon but that turned out to be a huge disappointment. So, the night before I left town for my business trip, I ran to my local GameStop and I bought Pokémon Pearl (because my coworkers son had Pokémon Diamond) and I’ve played a good 20 hours of it and I have 3 badges and have seen all of like 51 Pokémon and I have 27 Pokémon (I try to catch them as I see them).

So, that is the secret for this Tuesday, my well kept secret, I’m 26 and I play Pokémon (but no one can really blame me, because it’s one of the few games that has infinite playability, seriously, you get into a Pokémon and you will not surface for weeks if you try to get everything and talk to everyone and catch all the Pokémon…even though it’s so childish, it keeps me fairly entertained and involved…not many other games can do that for weeks/months on end)

So I have this issue every summer. It’s called swimsuit season. My issue is this, I have a little belly (I really think it’s larger than little but people tell me it’s not so I’ll say little, attribute it to beer or all the shots I’ve taken in it over the last 15 years whatever you like, I have a belly) and I don’t think it needs to be covered. Women in general seem to think otherwise.

I just have to wonder what the hell is wrong with them. I have a right to wear a bikini and I don’t have to be a super model to do so. I just don’t understand how guys can walk around in their swim trunks with their bellies hanging over their swim trunk line and I can’t wear my surf shorts and a bikini top. Explain that to me, someone, please…tell me why it’s ok for sir chubsalot to run around in his swim trunk with all his fat slopping over the sides of his swim trunks and it’s unacceptable for me to have my belly (little belly) sticking out slightly over my surf shorts?

And while I’m on the subject of swimsuits…a fat belly on a girl looks just as disgusting in a 1 piece swim suit as it does in a 2 piece, that’s my opinion. And being so, I wear a 2 piece, well, surf shorts and the bikini top…

It is the habit that I’m about to talk about that has my mom telling me that I’m like Howard Hughes (among several other, but today is just about the bathroom). I’m anal about restrooms and whether or not I’ll actually go to the restroom while in the restroom or depending on the restrooms reputation whether or not I’ll actually step foot into the restroom. *stop scratching your head* YES! Restrooms have reputations.

So, the deal with restrooms, they gotta be clean, my bathroom at home, if I know someone else has been in there before I go potty or if I’ve been gone for the day that toilet seat gets cleaned with comet cleaner before I go use the potty. I can’t stand sitting on a toilet that I know some other person has sat on previous to me if it hasn’t been cleaned.

This presents problems at work, and even though I clean the toilet before I go to the bathroom, I refuse to sit on the seat, God only knows what kind of diseases the miscreants I work with are carrying around on the behinds, I don’t need them. That and if I have to wipe their pubes off the toilet before I can pee, then they aren’t all that cleanly anyways.

The other thing about bathrooms is that pooping outside of the home bathroom is an unspeakable. It just doesn’t happen, I can’t do it. It’s just wrong. I can’t explain it. This causes problems when I’m traveling because it’s very difficult for me to poop outside of the comfort of my own home. Although sometimes, when I’m traveling I have no choice…during those times in which I’m traveling it’s ok, if I’m at my hotel room, because then it’s like my room. But the one place it never happens is at work, because I don’t want to do what I hate when most people do it. I don’t want to leave a stink (yes, my shit stinks from time to time). I just can’t handle that people will leave their stink behind, like hello, lysol, so I don’t want to ever be that person, so taking a dump at work is an unthinkable. That and I’ve not quite mastered the whole hover and poop thing yet, that technique has yet to become one with me, and I don’t sit on the work toilets so…*sigh*

Public restrooms scare me, I need like 5 ass gaskets to be put on the seat and then, I still won’t sit, I hover…It’s just that public restrooms, or any that aren’t my restroom actually are disgusting. If I have to use a relative’s or a friend’s bathroom, well, let’s just say it depends on the person on whether I’ll actually sit to pee or hover. Like I said, I’m anal about restrooms.

On a side note, I never put my bags on the ground, I always hang them. I never touch the door handle, I use the paper towel I dried my hands with…

It’s Tuesday and I must say that I’ve been waiting since last Tuesday to write/release this post. This is week 2 in what’s promising to be something great, Top Secret Tuesday. If I didn’t explain it, which it’s possible that I didn’t, cause I don’t remember doing so, Top Secret Tuesday is the day, so chosen by muah, to blog about something your readers don’t know about you. Now, if some of your readers are your friends this may be difficult, but it’s all good, pretend they don’t read your blog and blog on. You following me? Good. Now back to Spartacus.

This story begins 4 years ago. I was having a fit because I wanted a new car. The old one was paid off so therefore it was time for a new car. It made perfect sense to me. But a good friend decided that she had heard enough of how courtney needed a new car, there was nothing wrong with my car, there was no reason to take and throw myself into debt again, so she told me to name him, if he had a name I would like him better, him being the old car. So naming of the things I own began, the car was named Mudpie, because I insisted on going 4-wheeling in my 1997 Ford Contour and rarely washed him, because why wash him if he was just going to get dirty again

So, I name everything, and everything I own is a “he” and each and every “he” has a name.

My insulin pump is Onyx
My laptop is Samson
My music external hdd is Leo
My data external hdd is Artemis
My wireless router is Zeus
My new car is Pegasus (yes, I finally got a new one, and he’s fast)
And my newest toy, my iTouch is Spartacus

There’s a whole lot more love going around when I name my stuff, it gives it a sense of belonging and it gives me a sense of…I dunno…but it’s really no different than Batman, he named everything, his lair was the Batcave, his car the Batmobile, he had a Batphone…everything was bat[thing]. I name my electronics…it usually happens fairly soon after opening the box and checking out it’s personality…

Top Secret Tuesday was born out a conversation with Jules, Michael, Brett, and Chad. Jules said something, I don’t remember what, and I said “shhhhhhh, that’s top secret, for tuesday” It probably had to do with my pornpopstar name. Top Secret Tuesday was born then and there. My goal is to try and tell my readers something they don’t know about me each Tuesday. Considering how much stuff I just spurt out in random conversations this may get difficult, but I’m going to try it anyways.

The inspiration for telling my readers something they don’t know about me comes from my recent interview with IZEA and a question they asked:

Tell us one thing your blog friends might not know about you.

The answer to that is today’s top secret tuesday bit:

When I get bored, I have a tendency to go and have things pierced.

There’s a story, there’s always a story:

It starts back when I was in the third grade when my mom took us girls (my two sisters and I) to get our ears pierced, now, I have such bad memories of this, they’ve been blocked, that I don’t remember ever asking to get my ears pierced, although, it’s probably something that I did. I do however remember my two sisters being there, my mom, and my grandmother, and a combination of 3 of them having to hold me down while the piercer pierced my ears, all the while, I was kicking and screaming.

Fast forward to about age 13, I wanted a second set of holes in my ears. Mom said I had to wait until I was 16. Fine, whatever, 16 came and went and I didn’t care to get my second holes.

Shortly after high school graduation and something like 2 days before my 19th birthday, I got my belly button pierced.

We now enter college, I’m sitting in geology one day, bored out of my mind, because I already knew what the hell the professor was talking about because I had had geology with an excellent teacher in high school, in my boredom, I get up, walk out, grab a friend, and we go to the mall. I get the second set of holes in my ears.

A year or so goes by, I’m at the mall one weekend, bored out of my mind, I get the cartilage in my left ear pierced.

At age 23, I’m tired of studying for finals, the piercing parlor I go to is a short drive from the university and people getting their nipples pierced in the window are getting fined for indecent exposure by the police that are standing outside waiting for the women to walk out. The sad thing is, the fine costs more than the nipples did had they actually had to pay for them, pierce in the window, it’s free. It was in the school newspaper. Me, a friend drove me up there, I got them pierced, not in the window, and I walked out of there to go show all the boys I had been studying with what I had done.

Somewhere between 22-24 I got the third set of holes in my ears, again, I left a class to do so, this time I went without a friend.

Age 26, between classes, it’s nearing the end of my last semester in college, I don’t feel like studying for finals, I have an hour before my next class, I walk up to the piercing parlor and get my nipples re-pierced.