#12- Road Trips, Part 2: The Move

I have mentioned that I like driving long distances, right? This road trip has not made my love of driving any less, but it has made me completely exhausted.

Let me explain.

Three weeks ago a friend of the family, Doc, offered me what I consider to be an absolute godsend. He knew about my unsuccessful attempts to get a job within an ambulance company and my unsuccessful attempts to get into a CNA or RN program around San Diego, so when he came to visit, he offered me a job at his dental office, a room at his house, and offered to pay for my nursing school tuition. Naturally I jumped at the opportunity, but, because the world hates me, there is a big setback.

Doc lives in Virginia. I lived in California. All of my worldly possessions were in California.

Thus began the epic quest of packing and driving across the entire country.

Day 1 I spent driving to Lake Havasu to pick up my travel buddy, Sibling #5, while the family was out there on vacation. Day 2 was spent hanging out with all my younger siblings for the last time until Christmas. We went to the movies to watch Cars 2 and had a good time. Also had to take an extra look at the radiator just to make sure that the damn thing wasn't still leaking.

Day 3 was spent driving a stretch of Route 66 along the 40 in northern Arizona. When you think Arizona, what do you think about? Desert, right? Wrong. There are forests there. Forests! I never knew about them! And before we got back on the 40, we stopped at a Roadkill Cafe. Those actually exist! I always thought that it was just a joke on a t-shirt, but sure enough, they do exist. And the food is grand. Once we reached Flagstaff we headed south to Florence to visit my friends K and Sergeant, and we stayed the night there.

Day 4 was mostly spent driving out of Arizona, because we decided to be adventurous and take the scenic route up the 60. Driving through New Mexico sucked, because there were storms everywhere. I haven't quite recovered from my last journey through storms that bad, so Sibling #5 drove while I remained stiff and tried not to scream. Finally we reached our hotel in Amarillo around midnight and we passed out.

Day 5 we were late getting on the road due to a mortal injury. As I was putting my things in the car, my suitcase, which maybe weighs about 60-75 pounds, swung with enough force to rip my left big toenail up without ripping it off. The sucker was sticking straight up while my toe was bleeding like crazy and I was howling in pain. Sibling #5 actually helped me push it back into place, which hurt even more. And it didn't help that he put it back crooked. (Not like he meant it, it just happened that way.) Luckily I'm a medic and remembered I had a first aid kit in my car and was able to clean it with hydrogen peroxide before wrapping it. Unluckily hydrogen peroxide stings like a bitch. After that we drove through Oklahoma to Missouri, which cost us $8 because of the tolls, and stayed with family.

Days 6 and 7 were spent in Illinois with more family, an aunt and uncle in one town and a set of cousins in another. It was fun, for the most part, and rather relaxing, except for the fact that I still had a hurt toe. It's funny how the smaller parts of us hurt the most, especially the toes.

Day 8 is today, and we made it to West Virginia, where I'm sitting in a Best Western taking a break. Technically we could have gone the 14 hours from Illinois to Virginia in one go, but Sibling #5 and I have been in close quarters for a week now and we're getting on each other's nerves. Just today I've been snapping at him and he's been growling at me, so this is better for the both of us.

Tomorrow, Day 9, the road trip ends and I get to unpack my car. Hooray for me.

All in all the whole experience has been quite an adventure, because I cannot go anywhere without something exciting happening.. My radiator hasn't been giving me too much trouble, thankfully, and the only real trouble I've been having is my toe, which is making me hobble horrendously.

As summer draws to a close, I hope everyone out there makes it home from vacation safe. As for me, this is a new and exciting leaf I'm turning. LPN school starts next month.


Warm Regards,


Liz

#11- Why Summer Sucks.

It's hot. I do not do well with hot. Being of primarily Northern European/Scandinavian descent, the sun and I do not get along well. I do not tan, ever. Ever. I tend to burn, painfully and agonizingly, and usually in the most embarrassing and inconvenient places. I am also more prone to heat exhaustion than most people will believe. But gee, you might say, I grew up in Virginia and I live in California. I should be used to it by now. Well, I would say, being used to it does not mean I have to like it.

Last summer I went to Oklahoma to visit a pair of dear friends of mine, and the first thing we did was go on a hike through the Wichita Mountains. One of these friends was, at the time, a drill sergeant in the army, so he takes going on a hike seriously. We had SPF 95 sunscreen (something I was eternally thankful for), bug spray, an extra backpack full of water and Gatorade, and camel packs-- large water bottles that one carries like a backpack with a straw one sucks the water through. Smart, right? Well, we liked to think we were being smart, and we were. Here's what went wrong. We left around three in the afternoon, which meant we were out at the hottest point in the day (usually from three to five pm). In Oklahoma, believe it or not, it can get pretty damn hot during the summer; I think we were hiking though 100 degree weather, at least. Add a healthy dose of humidity on top, which made it hard to breathe, and you can imagine how hard it was.

Regardless, it was a good healthy walk, and despite a lot of the area being scorched from a recent fire it was still pretty country. We got up high enough to get a marvelous view, talked a lot, joked around, and had a good time.

And then I realized I was severely dehydrated and hadn't been drinking nearly as much as I should have. I was afraid I was going to drink too much and get stomach cramps, but then I unwittingly went to the other extreme and barely drank a drop.

This was before I took the EMT course, so I didn't know the signs for heatstroke, but now that I look back on it I'm fairly certain that while I wasn't quite there yet, I was well on my way. The good sergeant had me sit down and gulp water and Gatorade as much as I could for a while, but it wasn't getting much better. Plus it was starting to get dark, so we had to huff it back since we didn't have a flashlight. Not good for me. Thankfully, we stopped more frequently for water breaks and I was able to rehydrate relatively well, and we managed to make it back to the car before I passed out. To my credit though, I walked over four miles over mountainous terrain in God-awful heat that nearly killed me and-- I have witnesses who will testify for me-- I did not whine once. I used to whine if I had to walk to the store. I'm so proud of myself.

However, I feel like those mountains issued me a challenge. One of these days I'm going back to that trail, and now that I know what not to do, I'm going to win.

In the meantime, have fun hanging out in the sun, everyone! If you need me I'll be inside with the air conditioning, getting paler and paler by the day.

Warm Regards,

Liz.

#10-May the Fourth be With You

It took me a while to get this joke. Now that I understand it, I understand why this is Star Wars day.

Ah, Star Wars. How many countless hours of entertainment and cherished memories have you bestowed upon us all? Actually, the movies are around an hour and a half long each, so for three movies about five or six.

... What, you think I'm talking about I, II, and III? HELL no! I'm talking about IV, V, and VI. This is the ONLY trilogy I will recognize. Why? Because they're the better films. The original, unaltered, theatrical releases, not the remastered directors cuts they keep releasing every couple of years that have a couple extra seconds of computerized footage. These movies are great, plain and simple.

It would take me forever to describe everything about why these movies are awesome, but one thing in particular sticks out for everyone-- the villain, Darth Vader. He was evil, sure, but in the last two movies he slowly became a more and more sympathetic character, and slowly became more and more likable, despite the fact that he was evil. He wasn't evil for the sake of being evil, he was evil because he honestly believed that ruling the galaxy was the only way to bring peace to it. He didn't like working for the emperor, he just got stuck with a psychotic emperor for a master. And just when that psycho is about to kill Luke, he has what is the ultimate redemption scene in history and saves the day.

So when good ol' George decided to make Episodes I, II, and III, which would explain Vader's origins, I was psyched. Sure, I was about 11 or 12, but I was still a rabid little fangirl. (This was, of course, before I had ever watched an episode of Star Trek.)

So the first movie came out. I actually liked this movie, and I still like it today. Despite the unholy abominations known as Jar Jar Binks and the rest of the Gungan race, and despite the podraces being too damn long, it was actually a good movie. The rest of the casting, for the most part, was pretty well done, it was a good story, and the action sequences were very well done. One other problem: the kid they got to play Anakin. That kid is just annoying. His acting sucks, his character sucks, he just sucks. I was rather peeved. 

Well, okay, I thought. It's only the first movie, and the kid is fairly young, and child actors tend to be more annoying anyway. This was supposed to be a younger Vader, right? No way. I would not have believed it. But then again, that could be hidden brilliance-- no one ever saw his crossing to the Dark side coming. Maybe the second movie will be better.

BOY was I wrong. What was wrong? Hayden Christensen was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG. You expect me to believe this whiny, angsty, snot nosed, underacting, little bastard grows up to be one of the most badass villains in movie history? What kind of idiot do you take me for?

All the pointless love scenes aside (which I know pissed off a lot of people, but hey, Luke and Leia's mother has to make an appearance somewhere), he whines through every one of his lines, he's completely disobedient and gung-ho about everything when it's painfully obvious he would get his ass killed if he wasn't so important to the story, and when shit hits the fan and his mother dies, what does he do? Throw a huge fucking hissy tantrum. Dear GOD, I wanted to punch him. I understand cutting apart the sand people that killed his mother, that was totally justified. I even understand feeling bad about the whole thing later, that's just part of the grieving process and his psychotic rampage really needed some reflecting on. What I don't understand is him blaming Obi-Wan. Of all people to blame, he blames the one person who had abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with his mother's death. "Holding me back"? How about "knowing you're totally not able to handle yourself yet and you still need more training because you're a selfish, impulsive, immature, idiot"? Then when Obi-Wan gets himself captured (because he is also a dumbass and didn't think to LEAVE the planet before giving his report), what does he do? GET HIS OWN DUMB ASS CAPTURED. Granted, Padme was no fucking help in that department, being the one who dragged him to the dangerous situation in the first place, but who was calling the shots here? He knew for a fact that if she went there she would get into a possibly fatal scenario, and he let her go anyway? He can use the fucking force, why the hell is he letting her call the shots? Because she has more political power? Grow a fucking pair, Anakin! You could've totally steered that ship back to safety if you wanted to, you just didn't want to. I just wanted to knock BOTH their heads together! And they're supposed to be the main characters, the ones we root for! I was hoping she would die. I really was. And he TOTALLY deserved to get his hand cut off. Honestly, the only cool part of that movie was the end, with the Clone army coming in and kicking serious ass, Christopher Lee cutting off Anakin's hand, and then fighting Yoda in a lightsaber battle. FUCK that was awesome. Everything else was agonizingly annoying and painful.

I was not looking forward to the third movie. I went anyway because I like to finish a series that I've started. I'm also slightly masochistic. And this movie was just... just. It was just. I have no adjectives to describe this movie. I loved and hated it.

Again, Anakin was painfully horrid. But at least I was expecting it this time. It didn't hurt so bad because I knew exactly what was coming, so I was able to brace for it. It still didn't make it any better to know that by the end of the movie, he would be Vader. Everything else about the movie was good, for the most part-- it would have been nice to know where the fuck General Grievous came from or why he had such a dumb name or what the hell gave him lung cancer or how the hell he managed to kidnap Emperor Palpatine, but he still managed to be a cool ass villain. And everything else about the movie was great. It had suspense, action, and a total Greek tragedy-esque type of self-fulfilling prophecy there at the end. What I hated was, again, Hayden fucking Christensen. If you had gotten any other heartthrob in the world (his looks were the only reason he got the job, and he's honestly not even that good looking), it would have been a much better pair of movies. But that one whiny little punk ruined both those movies for me.

Thankfully I have the three much better movies with much better acting and much more enjoyable characters and much more exciting story lines and much less glaring plot holes.

Warm Regards,

Liz

#7- This Image

While following several artists on DeviantArt, I've been in the midst of drama surrounding art thieves. It infuriates me when artists pour their heart and soul into a piece of art, just to have some piece of shit bastard thief come and publish it on their websites (Facebook, mostly) as their own work with no due credit to the original artist. If there's one thing I cannot stand, it's thievery in any form.

Which is why I am coming clean now.

I want to talk about this image:

My computer identifies it as "psl-neon". I found it on the internet, I can't even remember how exactly I found it (I know it was a Google Image search, but I have no idea what I searched for). I have no idea who the original artist is. I took it because, well, it's a beautiful picture, and I'm using it now because I love it so much. But let me please make this clear-- IT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME.

Whoever owns this image, please please PLEASE let me know!! I'll be more than happy to either take it down or post your name/website somewhere on this blog giving you credit. I just need to know who you are.


Warm Regards,


Liz

#5- Happy Saint Patrick's day.

Being from a primarily Irish Catholic family meant never missing Saint Patrick's day. Of course Mom always made sure that we wore some form of green to school to ward off any pinches, and she continues to make sure all ten of her kids wear green to this day.

But, as the four oldest of us ten kids (I'm #4) spent most of our growing up in Virginia, we four had another reason to eagerly await March 17; during the night, we would be visited by an honest-to-God Leprechaun.

It was like Santa visiting us on Christmas-- no one actually saw him, but those presents weren't there the night before, so therefore he must have come and put them there. The Leprechaun didn't leave presents; he just left a fucking mess everywhere. And it was hilarious.

For some reason, he always dyed the milk green. Always. At first I thought it meant it was spoiled, but after Kid #1 drank it without immediately throwing up, we all drank it till our tongues were green. So every year we could look forward to green milk in our cereal, nice and festive. Then we would look on the ground and realize that he had left little green footprints that lead from the fridge to all over the house. Seriously, those footprints went everywhere. We'd find other things colored green, like the water in Mom's angel fountain, or the rosary around the statue of the Virgin Mary. Sometimes he'd leave chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil, sometimes he'd leave a note, but he always left that fucking amazing mess behind.

At school I learned quickly that no one believed in leprechauns the way I did. I was shocked to discover that not one of my classmates had a leprechaun visit their house. I must have been in a lucky house!

After suffering though the day's lectures we'd come home and always watch the same movie every year, Darby O'Gill and the Little People. (Actually a pretty good movie, I recommend.)

Then it happened; the year 1999. We moved to California, and the Leprechaun stopped visiting.
It's been twelve years now, and still no sign of a leprechaun.

I wonder sometimes if that smarmy little bastard still hangs around the old house. My guess is no, because we sold the house to a bunch of old people, and older folks don't like pranks too much.

So tonight as you all get drunk, be on the lookout. If, by any chance, you see a leprechaun through your drunken haze, tell him Liz says hi.

Warm Regards,

Liz.

#4- Blogging is hard...

I have had other blogs in the past that I eventually deleted because I no longer cared about posting in them. However, I decided last night that this time I was going to dutifully catalog interesting/funny things in this new blog once or twice a week and not let it die.

So I've been sitting here for two damn days now wondering just what was so vitally important that everyone in the world had to know about it.

So far I've tired to write a post about family (I got paranoid and deleted it), how crappy my previous jobs were (I again got paranoid and deleted it since I didn't want future prospective employers to read it and think I was a whiner), the fact that it was now March (March evidently is not interesting enough to post about).

And this ramble is the result.

Hooray for me.


Warm Regards,

Liz.


EDIT: So apparently the Oscars happened. Whoop-dee-doo. I honestly could care less about spectacles like that.

#3- Amnesia: The Dark Descent. BEWARE THIS GAME.

Quite possibly the scariest game I've ever encountered, Amnesia: The Dark Descent is a first-person survival horror game on the PC from Frictional Games. You wake up as Daniel, an amnesiac, in a dark castle, where you find a note from your former self which pretty much boils down to:

"Hi, this is your former self, I drank something to make me forget everything so don't be too scared. You have to go to this room under the castle to kill this guy Alexander. Don't ask why, he's just evil.

By the way, there are monsters following you that alter reality and makes you go insane.

Ok, good luck dude!"


So there you have it. As you play the game, you find notes and journal entries and live through flashbacks from Daniel's past that eventually unravel the gruesome history of the castle which actually turns out to be a compelling and interesting story, without becoming too weird, which happens too often in horror games with zombie-like monsters.

Why is this game so scary? Well, it's not necessarily what does happen, it's what doesn't happen. It's the knowledge that there's something there, but you don't know where exactly it is or whether it knows where you are. It's a fact that people are generally more afraid of uncertainty and the unknown. You don't know what's behind that door you're about to open. You don't know what just walked by you, or if something did actually walk by you. You don't know why that candle's lit, since you did nothing to light it. You don't know if you're actually hearing those footsteps behind you. You don't know why there's blood all over the floor. You don't know who's arm you just stepped on.

You see where I'm going with this?

Also, the game's original lighting is such that you literally cannot see your hand in front of your face. (Lame people that don't like this fact can brighten it so it's practically daylight inside the castle, but that just takes the fun out of everything.) So you have to light candles and torches with tinderboxes that you find scattered around the castle. However, these tinderboxes are very rare, so don't waste them. You also find a lantern (if you're observant enough to see it), but the oil doesn't last very long, and extra oil is scarcer than tinderboxes. However, if you stay in the dark too long, Daniel starts to hallucinate. You hear him grinding his teeth, and the area around you starts wavering as you stagger around. How do you maintain your sanity? You stay in the light and solve puzzles. But the monsters are attracted to light, and the more puzzles you solve the more likely it is you'll be found. Plus the music in this game makes a creepy atmosphere, and the added bumps and footsteps all around you make you wonder if you really are alone at your computer.

What do you do if a monster finds you? Run and hide in the corner like the little bitch that you are. No seriously. That, actually, is what makes the game so scary (for me, anyway); you cannot defend yourself. Resident Evil, Silent Hill, and other horror games at least let you punch what's coming at you. Here, no way. You have to turn off your lamp and hide somewhere, anywhere, in the dark corner or in a wardrobe or something, and pray it didn't see you in the first place. The damn things can even smell you out, so you have to get away from it before you hide.

All in all, the game is unbelievably freaky, but it is a very good game. The way the game drags you in and puts you in Daniel's place is actually pretty awesome, making it one of the best horror experiences. I couldn't even get past the demo, that's how much it scared me, so now I provide moral support to my brother as he plays it.

Also, watching videos of people's reactions on YouTube is incredibly entertaining.

Warm Regards,

Liz.