You see the darndest things on the internet sometimes. Just the other day, I was reading a blog entry in which the lady who writes said blog proclaimed that she does not believe in owning private property (as in the sense that no one should be allowed to own private property). Yet in the previous post, she wrote about how she is currently selling her house because she is moving for her job.
Am I the only one appalled at how hypocritical people can be? On one hand, she says she does not believe in private property – on the other, she owns a house!
People are ridiculous.
So, I flew on Sunday and encountered many strange people in the airports. I got the good ol’ patdown in order to avoice the Machines of Death at the security checkpoint. (Seriously, I do not understand what the big deal is with the patdowns. Sure, it’s thorough, but the ones you get in the Amsterdam airport are more intense, if you ask me.)
I have my first day of classes tomorrow, which means I’ll have to survive an hour of speaking Russian.
Oh my, it’s been over a week since I’ve written. And an eventful week it was!
Recently, I think it was in August, I switched to a new email address. I didn’t like my old one anymore so, much to my friends’ and family’s consternation, I imported my mail to a new account and began using that one exclusively. (Note: if I’m not answering your emails, it’s probably because you’re still sending to the old account.) I hadn’t actually checked my old account in quite a long time, so last week on Monday I logged in. Lo and behold, there was new message from August that must have been sent very soon after I switched to the new address. It was from the person I want to talk to least in the entire world: The Ex-Boyfriend.
What was appalling about said message is how he sent it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like emailing me was normal. There is no way I am going to even consider composing a civil response to that message unless he writes me an apology. (And even then, I do not know if I could accept an apology.) Now, an uncivil response… I could work with that. Seriously, there are many decidedly uncivil things I would love to say to this individual.
From where do these strong negative feelings stem, you might ask. Honestly, it’s not something I am ready to write about in a public forum. Sometimes when I think about it, it still makes me very, very angry. I’ll give you a preview of what hopefully will be a future post on this subject: the result of my last interaction with him involved me carrying four pieces of luggage to the bus stop in England all by myself. These were not small pieces of luggage, either: there was one Vera Bradley duffel bag, a rolling bag the size of a school backpack, and two twenty-four inch suitcases. Normally I do not think I could handle that much luggage; however, I can tell you from personal experience that rage has a way of making you much stronger.
I don’t even know if I’ll leave this post up or not. If you read it before I take it down, count yourself among the privileged…
For some reason, I feel like most of the life drama I’ve had recently has involved glasses and/or contact lenses. Probably has something to do with the fact that I recently got a new prescription…
Anyway, today I went back to the place where I got my glasses. The frames were not adjusted properly and kept attempting to fall off my face, which was extremely annoying. The lady who usually helps me was not there, so that was a bit of a Bad Omen. Nevertheless, I ignored it and asked a different lady to adjust my glasses.
Aside from misunderstanding precisely what the problem was, this new lady heated up my glasses so she could bend them, then made me wait while they cooled off, which was yet another bad sign. I’ve had loads of frames adjusted in my life and I have never had someone say, “Wait a bit, I heated them up too much so they have to cool off.” Imagine my displeasure when I put the glasses back on and saw a plethora of scratches on both lenses.