Thursday, April 10, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Finish line.
Well, it has happened. I am actually finishing something. See, I have this thing where I back out of things when they get overwhelming or sad. Simply because I believe I can't do it.
There's the rub. I can't do it.
There is no way that I can get through Music School. You know why? Because I can't do it alone. And I am not alone. I have this great God who has my back all the time. He gets me through it. He gave me the talent, now I need to use it.
So, please really-scary-advisor...don't be mad at me when I say, "Hey, I changed my mind. How about helping me figure out a new schedule?"
There's the rub. I can't do it.
There is no way that I can get through Music School. You know why? Because I can't do it alone. And I am not alone. I have this great God who has my back all the time. He gets me through it. He gave me the talent, now I need to use it.
So, please really-scary-advisor...don't be mad at me when I say, "Hey, I changed my mind. How about helping me figure out a new schedule?"
Thursday, April 3, 2008
This doesn't have a clever title.
Have you ever watched The Andy Griffith Show or Gilmore Girls and longed for that small town feel? After watching shows like that, I crave companionship. I want to go get a coffee from Luke - bad example. Who wouldn't want to get a cup of coffee from Luke? Okay, restart. I want to go to the barber's shop or the police station and have people know my name. I want to have a cute little town named "Mayberry" or "Stars Hollow" and wave at people that know me. But more than anything, I want to walk in a restaurant and be a "regular". I want "Patsy" the waitress to know that I like flimsy bacon, over-easy eggs, and grits with no butter. (I totally just pulled that out of my rear, by the way. I usually don't eat breakfast unless my sister makes it for me. Speaking of her, she's a great cook! You should take her cooking classes!)
Anyways.
Myself, along with my boyfriend, have achieved this feat. In Greensboro, North Carolina. Sure. It isn't as great as a barber shop, but Steak 'n Shake will do. The Steak 'n Shake on Lawndale Drive is our place of choice. We go there for about 50% of our dates. The rest goes to the bowling alley. However, you have to go at night, when Brandon's shift starts. Brandon is our friend. He works 70 hours a week, has a girlfriend that wants him to quit, and has the brightest smile on this planet. We also love Pam, Bryce, and Michael. Michael makes my Raspberry smoothie and has Jason Castro dreds. Pam tells Justin he shouldn't have that much ranch on his salad because it will make his cholesterol go up. Bryce has bad posture because she is uncomfortable with being almost 6 feet tall. And Brandon. Brandon just talks to us and gives us coupons. And he tells us what his schedule is so we can come back and see him. I love Brandon, Pam, Michael, and Bryce. They are my night shift family. When we come in, Brandon puts us in the same booth. He also puts on a fresh pot of decaf coffee, because he knows Justin works at Starbucks and wants him to not be disappointed in Steak 'n Shake coffee. Brandon also won Best Employee of the Month in May of 2007. I think he should be employee of the year.
So here's to you, Night Shift. May your nights be short, your days be long and restful, and may your milkshakes overflow. In a good way, not a messy way.
Anyways.
Myself, along with my boyfriend, have achieved this feat. In Greensboro, North Carolina. Sure. It isn't as great as a barber shop, but Steak 'n Shake will do. The Steak 'n Shake on Lawndale Drive is our place of choice. We go there for about 50% of our dates. The rest goes to the bowling alley. However, you have to go at night, when Brandon's shift starts. Brandon is our friend. He works 70 hours a week, has a girlfriend that wants him to quit, and has the brightest smile on this planet. We also love Pam, Bryce, and Michael. Michael makes my Raspberry smoothie and has Jason Castro dreds. Pam tells Justin he shouldn't have that much ranch on his salad because it will make his cholesterol go up. Bryce has bad posture because she is uncomfortable with being almost 6 feet tall. And Brandon. Brandon just talks to us and gives us coupons. And he tells us what his schedule is so we can come back and see him. I love Brandon, Pam, Michael, and Bryce. They are my night shift family. When we come in, Brandon puts us in the same booth. He also puts on a fresh pot of decaf coffee, because he knows Justin works at Starbucks and wants him to not be disappointed in Steak 'n Shake coffee. Brandon also won Best Employee of the Month in May of 2007. I think he should be employee of the year.
So here's to you, Night Shift. May your nights be short, your days be long and restful, and may your milkshakes overflow. In a good way, not a messy way.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
My Umbrella, Ella, Ella, Ella.
It is Monday. A dreary and wet Monday. A monsoon Monday. My sister bought me an adorable umbrella for my birthday two years ago. It is black and white and has a vintage print. It is my pride and joy while walking under its protection in the wind and rain. It is compact. It fits in my purse just right. I love my umbrella.
*pause*
If you are one of those people that struggles with pooping in public places, this post is especially for you. I feel like everyone has bathroom anxiety in one shape or form. Whether it is the germs, actually using a public restroom, or just feeling anxious about the little boy that is out of control who peaks under your stall. I have major bathroom anxiety. Yes, this is a little embarrassing, but necessary for you to understand the rest of my story.
*resume*
The story starts with another embarrassing part about me. I have nervous pooping issues. When I get nervous, my system gets moving to an obnoxious and embarrassing extent. That Monday morning, I had an exam at 11am. At 10:30 or so, I get that feeling. I head to the bathroom. Upon my arrival, I notice all the women in the bathroom at the moment have rested their backpacks, purses, coats, etc. up against the wall across from their respective stalls. Seems like a good idea, right? I'm one of those germ bathroom anxiety people. (Among all of the other bathroom anxieties that I have acquired over the years.) No germs on my coat. Hooray for me. I set my coat on top of my bookbag and purse and then place my lovely umbrella on top.
Well, here it goes. I'm in the stall. Waiting for everyone to leave. They leave. I'm almost finished with my business when I hear someone coming in. To spare them of the awkward and uncomfortable situation, I pause my bathroom visit. They don't use the bathroom, though. They just come in, walk in front of the stalls, and then go wash their hands. I assume, They must have problems just like me! Maybe they had to poop too and couldn't because I was here! Well, they leave. I finish. 28 seconds later, I walk out of my stall.
No umbrella.
They freaking stole my umbrella. My pride. My waterproof joy. My comfort blanket. My reason to feel unique in a sea of rainbow dots on a black canvas, which is what everyone uses on the UNCG campus - I'm convinced. I felt so violated. I felt so angry. I felt so annoyed because I wish I had just pooped while they were in there and made them feel miserable and awkward so they got some kind of punishment. But I didn't. I had to be the anxious bathroom girl.
By the time I walked to my car, which felt like 5 miles away, my purse was ruined. My sweatshirt was soaked as well as my coat. My make-up had washed off my face. My shoes were wet. My socks were wet. My jeans were wet. And lets not talk about the fact that my bookbag had soaked up the rainwater by way of my books and computer.
So, thank you, dear Thief-False-Bathroom-Anxiety Person, for making my day miserable. For robbing my joy. At least you didn't get wet on Monday. If I see you with my umbrella near the School of Music, I will approach you and say, "My name is Hannah Joyner. You stole my brella. Prepare to die."
Just kidding.
One good thing out of this story. I bought a new umbrella, ella, ella, ella from Teerget. Its pretty. Its classy. Here is a picture.
*pause*
If you are one of those people that struggles with pooping in public places, this post is especially for you. I feel like everyone has bathroom anxiety in one shape or form. Whether it is the germs, actually using a public restroom, or just feeling anxious about the little boy that is out of control who peaks under your stall. I have major bathroom anxiety. Yes, this is a little embarrassing, but necessary for you to understand the rest of my story.
*resume*
The story starts with another embarrassing part about me. I have nervous pooping issues. When I get nervous, my system gets moving to an obnoxious and embarrassing extent. That Monday morning, I had an exam at 11am. At 10:30 or so, I get that feeling. I head to the bathroom. Upon my arrival, I notice all the women in the bathroom at the moment have rested their backpacks, purses, coats, etc. up against the wall across from their respective stalls. Seems like a good idea, right? I'm one of those germ bathroom anxiety people. (Among all of the other bathroom anxieties that I have acquired over the years.) No germs on my coat. Hooray for me. I set my coat on top of my bookbag and purse and then place my lovely umbrella on top.
Well, here it goes. I'm in the stall. Waiting for everyone to leave. They leave. I'm almost finished with my business when I hear someone coming in. To spare them of the awkward and uncomfortable situation, I pause my bathroom visit. They don't use the bathroom, though. They just come in, walk in front of the stalls, and then go wash their hands. I assume, They must have problems just like me! Maybe they had to poop too and couldn't because I was here! Well, they leave. I finish. 28 seconds later, I walk out of my stall.
No umbrella.
They freaking stole my umbrella. My pride. My waterproof joy. My comfort blanket. My reason to feel unique in a sea of rainbow dots on a black canvas, which is what everyone uses on the UNCG campus - I'm convinced. I felt so violated. I felt so angry. I felt so annoyed because I wish I had just pooped while they were in there and made them feel miserable and awkward so they got some kind of punishment. But I didn't. I had to be the anxious bathroom girl.
By the time I walked to my car, which felt like 5 miles away, my purse was ruined. My sweatshirt was soaked as well as my coat. My make-up had washed off my face. My shoes were wet. My socks were wet. My jeans were wet. And lets not talk about the fact that my bookbag had soaked up the rainwater by way of my books and computer.
So, thank you, dear Thief-False-Bathroom-Anxiety Person, for making my day miserable. For robbing my joy. At least you didn't get wet on Monday. If I see you with my umbrella near the School of Music, I will approach you and say, "My name is Hannah Joyner. You stole my brella. Prepare to die."
Just kidding.
One good thing out of this story. I bought a new umbrella, ella, ella, ella from Teerget. Its pretty. Its classy. Here is a picture.
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