Delor.es.Defacto

she knew she had to change her plans

You’re not hopeless or helpless February 18, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — deloresdefacto @ 4:39 pm

Well it’s about time I updated around here. There’s a new version of WordPress that I have yet to install (even though the numbers “3.3” are very intriguing.)
I just haven’t felt like posting in here for a while. It seems these posts are getting done weekly but I’ve overstepped that mark. I was going to post something for Valentine’s Day but the weekend showed up with some things to do, making me totally wiped out, so on our President’s Day, I’m able to feel like it’s sort of a weekday and sort of a good day to list my personal info as of late.

  • On Valentine’s Day, I went to dinner with my parents (which isn’t so tragic seeing as that chick from Heroes did the same thing and didn’t go on a date with that hot guy from the Fergie video instead.) I went shopping for something to wear for the next day (an interview) and picked up a $5 skirt, a $15 sweater and a $12 pair of shoes. Not bad. I washed a bunch of my black clothes as well, just in case I wasn’t happy with my first choice in outfits (which is generally the case.) I watched Lost by myself because Fran was at choir practice. I had predicted that Sayid was one of the “Oceanic Six” and won that bet last Thursday. Now we’ll see if my prediction that Jin will be the one to die this season, leaving the “Six” to be: Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sayid, Saywer and Locke.
  • On Friday morning I went on an interview for a little office assistant’s job. (I decided on my Sketcher’s instead of the new shoes. I just can’t do heels anymore unless absolutely necessary.) The interview was for the library computer databases for the public school, housed at the university. Something I could totally do but Lord knows if this will pan out. They called and left a message before I got home about one of my references (so maybe that’s a good thing). I left a message back, explaining that she was my assistant principal at my old school and left the number. Now, we’ll see what she has to say I guess. If they call me either way, I’ll ask about it. I’m dying of curiosity. I would just love to know if that Gossip Girl theme is still running rampant over there or if they’ve finally gotten sick of picking on me like I’m a 14 year old band geek. Sigh… I wonder how long that past will plague me.
  • After my interview I went to Barnes & Noble finally and spent a long time decided what to get with my Valentine’s cash (since I’m on a diet now, this is what I asked for over chocolate.) After picking up and putting back, I finally settled on $40 worth of books and a Vogue magazine. (It has Kate Bosworth on the cover. I bought it to encourage my calorie counting and desire to be pretty enough to score Orlando Bloom. Just something to fret myself over until I have other things to thing about. Right now, that’s all I have, which is annoying, because now I’m getting more in the mindset of, “average girls like me shouldn’t even bother trying to be pretty…it’ll never turn out this well.” Sigh…)
  • After my book shopping trip, I decided to stop at Target to look, specifically, for notebooks. I’ve resolved my obsession to a specific element: one subject, wide ruled. They’re simple and cheap and I can mess them up all I want without feeling some guilt for ruining those pretty $30 leather bound journals that I kept trying to use. Yes, I’m sure this is some weird personality defect but it works for me so I go with it. Now I have a single objective in every stationary section of each store. But of course, my being hyper-focus got shattered when this man my father’s age decided to chat with me about his notebook preference. Now, being raised to be courteous and empathetic and to take into account that he probably just wanted someone to talk to and, I, like my mother, in that round-faced, friendly demeanor, got pick out to be the one this guy decided to talk to. So there I was, trying to be polite, in my new $5 English tweed skirt and black sweater, looking at the Pirates of the Caribbean notebooks, this guy told me all about how he likes to use the plain notebooks with the perforated edges so he can write out all of his bill payments, rip the page out, put it in his pocket, and then go to the bank. After a while, I tried to not making direct eye contact routine and utter the “uh-huh”s every so often so he’d get the idea that this was his time to get what he needed, stop talking to me and, more importantly, get out of my way because he was standing there in front of the notebooks with his cart. He did not get the idea. (Why is it that when you try to ignore someone, it gives them a sign to keep bugging you instead of getting the picture that being cordial and being interested are two separate entities. Ah Morrissey, you were so right; “The more you ignore me, the closer I get, you’re wasting your time.”) After a few minutes of his prattling on, a woman, his wife apparently, disabled with an electronic scooter and oxygen mask, comes in the aisle and starts bitching at him for wanting to buy something silly like a notebook when she had plenty at home that he could use. And for at least ten minutes they went on and on, back and forth, yelling at each other with, “You don’t need that, put it back.” “But it’s just a dollar.” “No, put it back.” “I can’t have something that’s for a dollar?” “No, put it back!” WTF? And this whole time, I’m standing there as the guy is looking at me for some reaction while I try to look around the guy. Most people would have finally said, “For the love of God, get the hell out of my way!” But I waited it out. If they had been cute and old, and the argument had lasted for a second, it would have been amusing. But this was just ridiculous and this wimpy guy who picked any nice looking female to talk to, had to finally throw his $1 purchase back on the shelf when his wife threatened him with, “Fine, then don’t talk to me for the rest of the day!” If there are reasons to not get married, that’s one right there. I refuse to end up some annoying couple who brings attention to themselves in any way possible in any public place because they’re so in to fighting with each other as they do at home. Sheesh.
  • I left annoyed by the incident and the fact that my comfortable shopping trip was interrupted. I went to my parents’, talked to Mom for a bit and then went back home to take another nap.
  • So Saturday morning I had to get up early again to take the car for it’s first and last transmission fluid flush. Now, may I remind you that it is 9AM on a Saturday morning and this procedure, without interruption, would take at least 3 hours, making the estimated call back time to be noon. By noon I was asleep again (I just could not get myself awake for two days) and there was a message simply saying for me to call them back. No, “you can pick up your car now.” No “there was a problem and the full service couldn’t be given.” Nothing other than, “call back.” So by the time I called back at one o’clock, the main office said the service center was closed. What? I asked how, on a three day weekend, am I suppose to pick up my car when they’re closed. The main office said, “Well, if it’s done, you can come and get it.” No idea if it was done or not but I drove over there, annoyed and ready to raise hell (being a woman in a hormonal rage is really something to marvel at; men just can never understand) and reported to the first person I saw sitting at a desk that I needed my car. So, some nice old salesman takes me to the service department, says that my bill is only for half of what I anticipated (which is good but it means something was wrong and they didn’t do what they intended) and I was given back my key. But I had to leave it there because I had my mother’s car and instead of Dad taking her to meet me there, I had to drive all the way across town, pick Mom up, drive back to the dealership, pick up the car, arrange all of my CDs (yes, I put them in my bag for that whole day, just in case I needed all of them) and headed back home, back across town. I hate taking the car to get worked on. It’s one of the most annoying tasks on the planet. I’ve also vowed to never take something for an appointment on a Saturday because everything closes early. Last time I tried this was when the cat had an appointment to get his shots at 12:15 and they closed at one. By the time I got there, like 15 minutes late, they reported that they were ready to close and I would have to make another appointment. After those two days, I stayed in bed for the remainder of Saturday night, watching old, Southern, chick flicks (Steel Magnolias and Fried Green Tomatoes, specifically; personal, favorite classics that I’ve seen a million times since I was in high school. Speaking of which, Gone with the Wind is on again tonight; my favorite of all time!)
  • Sunday, yesterday, was less than eventful. I was tired and groggy all day and didn’t go anywhere until later in the day when I went to my parents’ for dinner. I could have gone to the store because I need more low calorie snacks (because I’ve eaten all of what I originally had all ready.) But that will have to wait until late tonight or tomorrow. I did, however, update my Flickr page and put up some more Florida, urban, random pictures in my album.
  • This morning, I got up at nine something and then watched Sunset Blvd. in its entirety for the first time. I decided that in order to make a good story, it has to be a tragic telling of the main character after their death. For example: American Beauty, The End of the Affair and Atonement to name a few.
  • Now I’m sitting here, trying to update this blog, trying to decide which of the many around the apartment tasks I want to get to first and trying to get started going on the books I have to read for my class. I’ve talked to my professor and he said it’s fine for me to want to try my hand at the simplistic prose so he gave me some book suggestions. One of the things I have to do is go to the library and pick up the six books I have waiting for me that I put on hold last week. I thought the library would be closed today but I guess the President’s Day isn’t as sacred anymore. Hhmm.
  • And finally, I’m still not over this recent picture from The Raconteurs‘ blog. Apparently I’m not the only The Raconteurs profile dark haired girl who would love to take a turn with that boy. Damn. He’s so freaking cute. Too bad there are only a privileged few who can be a supermodel in the platinum ring. One day I’m going to write an essay entitled “Karen Elson, Why Can’t I Be You?” :-/
  • I think I need to go back to my feminist novels. I’m starting to perpetuate the self loathing that the entertainment industry wants girls to have. Freaking sucks. Oh well, at least the ones who sit at a desk, working alone can have some consolation that they’re more needed for their mind than their looks. (Or whatever the hell it is that we tell ourselves these days.)


“An example of what?”
“An example of writing. An example of how someone of your station and your generation and your origins writes. An instance.”
“An instance? Am I allowed a word of protest? After all the effort I put into not writing like anyone else?”

Elizabeth Costello by J.M. Coetzee

Photo credit: deloresdefacto

http://www.deloresdefacto.com/?p=68

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One Response to “You’re not hopeless or helpless”

  1. I like your post.
    Sometime your idea is correct.
    And make me review myself again.
    like scooter on the no destination way.


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