chameleon

once, i interviewed my mother for religion class freshman year of highschool. i was to write up my own set of questions--limited to the topic, of course--and she would have to answer them. and she did. but none of it was what i would hope.

she told me about going to school when she was a child. stories like these i have already heard. sometimes i wonder about the things that she doesn't say. she and my father both. she tells me yearnings. he tells me of things that have been lost. i don't want these, i want stories of china men. i want stories of their lives, not just the memories they tell about their childhoods. i want them to tell me what they thought during the War. i want them to tell me how they were when they were my age. i want them to tell me about my grandparents when they were young. i want my heritage!

and all they can say to me is that, in America, i am lucky and that what i have here i'll never appreciate enough.

what they have said glitter in me like treasures. my ancestors are from Spain. my mother's father was a black-belter when he was young. my father's father built an empire out of dust and automobiles. my mother's grandfathers built a church in the town they owned, then they lost their lands in a gamble. my mother's uncle ran for mayor and they were all nearly shot down by the opposing candidate. my father's mother shot a monster atop a rooftop in the dark. my mother's father was confronted by a giant horse-man smoking a tree like a cigar. my great aunt was once tall and beautiful and headstrong; she had children when they said she might not. my mother's grandmother ate fish for many years and lived to be 101.

my mother fell in love with the handsomest man in her universe and they never married.

my father was a lawyer.

and then they came here and their old life disappeared. my mother worked at a department store and became a banker. my father worked in a hotel. he worked for a copier company for more than 10 years, lost his job and moved on to accounting, analyst positions, and then got his MBA. he is still struggling to find a permanent job. i am proud of my parents, but they will never tell me of their proudest moments. i have no heritage.

i hope they tell me their history before it is too late.

hmph

i was reading lastnight and i realized some things about myself.

i can't sneer.

i tried to by reading aloud from this particular book: i sounded scornful enough, but my face couldn't arrange itself into a sneer. i simply can't sneer. my face has--once and only once--morphed itself into an expression that it has never been in before, a mixture of horror and panic. but other than this, i know, without having to be told what kind of expression is on my face. and because of this, i know that i can't sneer. and i don't know why. maybe my lifestyle doesn't require it. maybe i'll learn how to sneer once i start working in an office building.

children are afraid of me.

well, not all of them. but i have been able to discipline quiet a few. where i used to work, a woman came in one day with her toddler--probably 3--in a stroller. i can't remember if it was a boy or girl, but judging from the volume of noise emanating from that small body, i'm willing to bet it was a girl. she was making an incredible amount of noise! and all because her mother wouldn't let her play with the breakables. they finally made it to the register and i was hoping they would leave soon. i was by the sale display right in front of the register and that wailing child was louder than ever. then her mom left briefly to replace a piece of merchandise she had picked out. and the girl screamed with all her might. i looked at that sulky, scrunched up face and shushed her. and blessed silence overtook us all. my coworker waiting behind the register said, "wow, did that just work?" i returned to the candle display and continued to clean it up, and the girl kept peaking around her stroller giving me these fearful looks. but at least she was silent. and then they were gone. its not as if i was physically violent with her. all i did was look at her and say, "sh!" granted, i was irritated, but most children don't really care if someone is irritated, they care if the person is angry enough to punish them. maybe my irritation came off as anger. and its happened before. i've caused many an evil little smile to disappear off the face of some really irksome kids. i wonder if i'll ever have children.

my parents think i'm prickly.

and i am. but sometimes it makes me feel guilty. they've given me everything of importance in my life and i repay them with my prickly temper. but sometimes, they goad me! things they say prompt my irritation. and i can only feel sorry for them when they say something so unwittingly that makes me mad. perhaps i should leave them memos

over the shoulder

how i laugh! how i chuckle to read old blogs and see where i am now.

i quit my job.

i quit my job at the retail store i had been working in since july. and contary to what i have said before, i found a job very easily. so easily, it makes me think that i was meant to leave that miserable job and move on. i was wandering around the town center across from university when i stumbled upon this children's bookshop tucked into a corner of an office building. i went inside, did my usual perusal of titles and authors and decided that i liked the place. i asked for an application right then and they gave one to me--hesitantly, of course, since i'm sure they have financial problems as a privately owned shop. but i got to talking with the women at the register (who turned out to be the owner). we had a good conversation about books, my major, and my current job, and by the time i left the store, she voiced the opinion that she thought i was very mature for my age. i was interviewed a week later and got the job on the spot. as i look back, i was sure i got the job that first day when i impressed her with my maturity. so i told my manager i was quiting and my last day at that "fine" establisment was last friday. i am free.

i bought myself an mp3 player.

This makes me laugh most of all. i didn't get an ipod as i had wanted to in one of my august blogs. during christmas when i bought my dad's gift at best buy, they signed me up for a free trial of eight issues of entertainment weekly. the second issue i recieved had an advertisement that caught my eye. a brand called CREATIVE had just come out with their newest toy: the zenmicro player, a dashing combination or organizer/planner and mp3 player. it was smaller than the ipod mini, had 5 GBs instead of 4, came in better colors than the ipod mini, and cost the same amount. i was sold. after doing my research, i checked the local electronic stores by my house, but only good guys and comp usa knew what i was looking for. it was a fairly recent product. so, yesterday, i went to good guys and bought a black one. i was hyper with glee. that day--yesterday--i spent the $300 dollars on the mp3 player with warranty, $28 at the bookstore i am soon going to be working in, and another $24 at comp usa where i bought a new color ink cartridge for our printer. which means i'll be a hermit for at least a month to recover. but i still laugh.

the only thing dampening my mood are the midterms scheduled for next week. but i'll survive. there is so much to look forward to.