Well, I was looking in some change for some quarters when I saw a strange looking penny. I looked at it and it said 1958 for the date and I was like OMG!! This has to be worth at least a little bit of money, considering it's more than 50 years old...

So I look it up and saw pennies worth $200, $300, $400...needless to say, I got excited.

So I scrolled down the list.

Saw the penny that said "1958- D".

Saw how much it was worth.

$.03.

Damnit.

 

I don't know how to answer this question anymore. I really don't. Let me tell you why.

About 3 or 4 weeks ago my room mate asked me if I could dog sit for them for the week end because they were going up north for the weekend. I said not a problem, because, really, I love the dogs. I do. Everytime they see me, their tails wag and they're all over me. They love me and I love them. There's 3: a huge half doberman half husky (he's seriously taller than my waist...he looks like he'll eat your face but really, he's a sweetheart), a medium sized half doberman half pitbull, and a tiny chihuahua (not the Mexican kind, the other one).

So they leave Friday and everything's all good. Then on Saturday there's piss on the floor. I have to clean that up. I don't think their potty training is going very well...

On Sunday, I bring the big dog (Zar) out first. I come back and the medium sized dog (Rocco) is pissing on the floor!!! He knew he was going outside, he couldn't wait 30 seconds?!?!WTF

Plus I had to clean up shit. OMFG, I have really bad gag reflexes, I can't help it. So I almost puke from the smell...omg.

So I don't know if I'll dog sit again. Don't get me wrong, I still love the dogs. But I don't love cleaning up after them.

I'm wondering if everyone is a prisoner at work like I am. Can you go out to your car on break? Are you able to leave the building you work in to go out for lunch? Are you able to run out to your car if you forget something? Like, say, money?

 

I really really think this should be illegal. If I faint from hunger, I'm suing.

I haven't eaten in 29 hours.

Columbine. 10 years later.

All of us know the story. Two students started shooting in the cafeteria of their high school and ended their massacre by killing themselves. They killed 12 students, 1 teacher, and wounded 23 other people.

I remember this day very clearly. I actually remember it more clearly than 9/11. I remember it so well because I had skipped school that day (a common occurrence at that time in my life). I watched it all live on the news. I cried. I watched this happen on the news. I saw the panic of the evacuation of the school, the panic of the parents and loved ones. It was horrible.

It's hard to say why these boys did what they did. Apparently it was found that the boys did it because they were psychopaths. Well, one them was. He hated everything and everyone because he was smarter and superior to everyone else. In my research, I found nothing that stated where this anger and hate for everyone came from. Hate like that is not just there. It's born and fed. If you've ever seen Rob Zombie's re-make of Halloween, you know he spends a lot of time on Michael's home and school life before he murders his family. How he was bullied by everyone. Sure, it's only a movie, but it's something that Rob Zombie got right. A psychopath like that doesn't just appear. It's born from somewhere and something. So, I am going back to...

...bullies.

I hate bullies. I was a victim of bullies. I never thought of killing my tormentors, I only thought of killing myself, countless times. I was always the new girl in school. I was always the poor outcast, the one that got endlessly picked on. It was mostly in elementary and middle school...high school wasn't that bad.

The teachers did nothing. Teachers see this happening, and they do nothing. It might be different these days, but I doubt it. I actually think it's gotten worse. It's happening to my youngest sister right now. Earlier this school year, some kids threw her cell phone out the bus window. One of them started a rumor that she was pregnant. She was 13 at the time. This time, I want to inflect torture on these kids. I suppose it's only natural, I want desperately to protect my younger sister. But I would never harm another human being. I guess that's the difference. Bullying has gotten out of control. It sickens me how these kids treat each other.

I'm going to somewhat defend violent video games and music as blaming points for these crimes where kids shoot up their schools. I think as a parent, you have to be involved in what your kids are doing. You have to take control and decide if your kids are mature enough to handle playing a violent video game or let them listen to extreme music.

Besides that, these kids shoot up SCHOOL. Why didn't they go to the mall? Or some other heavily populated area to shoot at people? It's because it started at school. These kids are the reason they want to shoot people. Sure, video games give them the idea, but it's certainly not the cause. The cause are the kids that are basically running rampant with no discipline because they know they can. They know they aren't going to get punished from bullying another kid. It's like that video that was made awhile back where those girls ganged up on that one girl and beat her up, just to put it on YouTube. That was one of the sickest things I've ever seen.

I think today we need to remember Columbine for the reason behind the tragedy. I think we need to take control as a community, and say that what's going on in today's schools isn't right. We need to reach out.

The names of the people that lost their lives ten years ago in the awful tragedy:
Cassie Bernall
Steve Curnow
Corey DePooter
Kelly Fleming
Matt Kechter
Daniel Mauser
Daniel Rohrbough
Rachel Scott
Isaiah Shoels
John Tomlin
Lauren Townsend
Kyle Velasquez
Dave Sanders

Remember.

Reach out.

Stop the hate.

I am way more than pissed at my boss. He straight up lied to my face about how much work was left before he left for the day. He left at 9:30. Look, it's about 1AM and I'm still here, with more work to do. And almost everyone else is still here. Shocker.

We do business between two buildings in two cities. He and I work here, and another lead works there. The other building has to pick the parts and we put it away here. My supervisor told me they were almost done. An hour after he left, I called over there and they weren't even close to being done yet. Try again.

I don't know what to write anymore. Sometimes I just feel like an empty puppet, going to work every day and going home because that's what I'm told to do.

Maybe I should write about something profound, new, fresh. Maybe I should stop writing garbage.

Maybe I should write something Of Substance.

When I was 5, my grandpa got a new dog. Her name was Cocoa and she had a purple tongue. She was a puppy.

My dad and I went to Grandma's House all the time. I had a tire swing on the tree on the hill and the trees were a place to explore and climb and get scabby knees. Barely cloudy days found me playing hide and seek with the dogs in the summer and running in the grass. Rainy days I explored the china hutches and the basement and The West Room. It was locked unless grandma let me in. There was yarn and books and an old Coke bottle with Coke still in it and Grandma's Dolls and some jewelry and lots of stuff to get into. Grandma let me snoop, she didn't mind. She let me have things and let me play.

Whenever we got kicked out of our apartment and didn't have a place to stay we went to Grandma's House. Dad slept on the couch and I slept on the floor. For a while I lived at Grandma's House without dad. I played and watched old I Love Lucy videos and admired Grandma's Dolls from behind glass and under plastic and climbed the trees. I sat in the flowers and read books.

Grandma's House was always where we went for Thanksgiving and Christmas. She made the lefsa and turkey. We brought the pies from Baker's Square. Grandma's House was filled with loud talking and laughter and good times. Uncle Roger was always an hour late, even though he lived right down the road. We laughed about it. Grandma's House is always where the BBQ's are with the grills and picnic tables in the back yard. Potato salad and beans and chicken and steak and burgers and pickles and ketchup. The loudness wasn't bunched up in the small space anymore and floated up to the sky.

The basement bathroom door had things written all over it that I didn't understand. Everyone told me not to read it whenever I went down there. I haven't been down there in years but I remember they were the crude writings of teenage boys.

So many memories bottled up in that house. Priceless memories.

I found out a couple months ago my grandparents are selling their house and 10 acres. They're selling a lot of their things and moving into an apartment. They can't afford their property taxes anymore and they're getting too old to keep up the house and the land. They've made it their home for the last 30-40 years.

I might take it the hardest. I will cry the last time I go there. I will feel awful. Grandma's House means so much to me. It's always been Grandma's House, and I never thought it would go away like this. It's like knocking down a solid wall in my world because Grandma's House is Safe, a haven. And soon it will be no more.

I keep farting.

I don't know where all this gas is coming from.

I'm a prisoner here at work.

We just started an 8 hour work day so our breaks are paid. ONE 20 minute lunch. No other breaks. So we can't leave due to liability (car crash on the clock blah blah). Even when we work more than 8 hours, we have one 20 minute break and one 10 minute break. Still all paid. So we can't leave. Even on a 12 hr day.

I'm hungry.

When someone is feeling down, my most favorite piece of advice to give is this: Life is a cycle that has it's ups and downs, so just roll with it. If it's good, roll with it. If it's bad, roll with it.

Sounds good, right?

Well, I'm not so good at heeding my own advice. Shocker, right?

Sometimes I follow it. Sometimes I let the darkness envelope me and just let myself feel depressed, because I know it'll get better eventually.

But, sometimes, I hate everything and everyone when I'm down. More often than not when I'm down, actually.

We are all hypocrites in some way I guess.