6 things I learned as a kid.

I am going through the most glorious list possible about writing.
It's one of those weird things you type into Google in a full, panicked paragraph like, "I LEFT THE LID OFF OF MY BLENDER AND I WAS TRYING TO BLEND MAGMA AND WELL, LONG STORY SHORT THERE IS MAGMA IN MY HOUSE. "  And then some blessed soul on Yahoo Answers is like, "Why, I have encountered that many a time, and I used water and sugar to remove the stains." Then people give the answer five stars and you go about your life, now with awesome knowledge about how to remove magma stains!

You know what I'm sayin'?

I've wanted to get into blogging again. So I will be using weird ideas to get the juices flowing and maybe something good will come out.


I liked this idea because I think that I was a pretty adorable kid. And by adorable I mean, what were you thinking, cutting my hair like that, Mom?! But it was the 90s, where fashion was as irrelevant and useless like our fabulous windbreakers.

When I think of myself as a kid, I feel like I had the same brain/thought process/life views as I do now. Now, most of you are probably really alarmed right now because there is no way that my train of thought should be equivalent to five year-old Mally, who would stick her tongue out at her dad when she had to do chores. But I draw some similarities.  Which brings me to number one.

1.  Rebellion is a RISK, man. A real risk.
Like most children, I had to figure out where the lines were drawn. Could I feed my new puppy ALL of my vegetables and get away with it? Also, what is that weird thing on my plate that looks like the cartoons I saw this morning and also a hamster? The dog needs to eat that, whatever THAT is STAT. (The answer is yes, only if puppy does not barf up said vegetables/foreign food-completely-unidentifiable to me object in front of your parents.) The line was drawn all over the place.
"You can't flip people off because your brothers told you it was an O.K. thing to do."
"You can't yell DAMMIT at your dad's friends because your brothers told you they would think it's funny."
"You can't shove mashed potatoes through a window screen because you like the way your dog's face looks when she eats it."
"You can't rename your cat Pongo because you've recently become obsessed with 101 Dalmatians."
"Just because your brother says he's being nice and 'Made you breakfast' does not mean ANYTHING."

Actually, now that all of those are out there, the line is clear. Do NOT listen to your brothers. 



2. You learn some hard truths.

There were cartoons that I enjoyed from time to time, but then, there were my shows which were the bees knees and completed me in ways my little five year-old heart loved. One of them was Blues Clues. Hopefully, all of you are familiar with this show. Steve was the greatest person ever. His eyes basically just looked like sunshine and chocolate all in one and I would ska-doo anywhere with that awesome man. And he had this motto that basically told me, "Mallory Jane, you live your life. And you live it well. You live it however the heck you want." (You can do anything that you want to do.)
Which, at the time, was the biggest ticket to freedom I have ever heard in my life. But the problem was, I was only five, so therefore I hadn't been alive for a very long time. 
 I remember a particular instance where I was being a child, and my mom was being a mom, and she told me I couldn't do something. I replied with, "STEVE said I can do anything that I want to do." She looked confused and annoyed and asked, "Who the heck is Steve?!" Which made my jaw drop and I exclaimed, "From Blues Clues!" She rolled her eyes. My argument was invalid.
"He's not real. Don't listen to him because he is fake. He is paid to say those things to you."
Ouch. 

Later that week, I found out Santa was actually my mom.


3. Actions have consequences.

Little Mally, when you put a needle in front of your dad's bedroom door for him to step on, he will not come out, step on it and yell, "YOWWWWWW!" And then blast off through the roof and land on the moon.

You're going to get your butt beat because you injured someone that you vomited on frequently (and they kept you) just a few short years prior to this incident.

Also, if you sneak up on your kindergarten teacher to play a funny prank and try to scare him, your clumsy undeveloped toddler body will trip over air and get you a black eye. You will also be laughed at by everyone, but it's ok because your teacher will walk you to the office, your mom will pick you up from school, and he will make you laugh at yourself. 

4. I am so stinkin' proud of you for watching nature shows and loving them.

Jeff Corwin was a boss. In fact, I think he's still alive. I still remember sprinting off of the bus to watch Jeff Corwin talk about whatever the heck he found in the woods. Also, he taught me really cliche things to say to my brothers when they made fun of me. Like when I was inevitably called four eyes because of my glasses, and Jeff Corwin told me to say, "I DO have four eyes. And four is better than two." (My brother shoved me after I said this, but I felt proud so that's all that matters.)

5. Lying is NOT the answer. 

There is this incident. In first grade. To this day, I feel EXTREMELY guilty. 

There was this girl in my first grade class who was adorable and sweet, and for whatever reason, reminded me of Eddie Murphey in every single way.
We would joke and play pranks. One day, I pulled her chair out from underneath her and she fell, like they do in movies, only she hit her head and started to cry. 
I may have been a little punk when I was a kid, but I HATED getting in trouble and breaking the rules. I panicked and yelled, "THE CHAIR IS SO SLIPPERY!!!" and totally got away with it, because I was kind of a quiet kid and no one suspects the quiet ones until later in life.

I held her ice for her when I walked her to the office, and to this day, we are Facebook friends and she has no idea.

6. If you think it's a fart, it probably isn't a fart. 
Once upon a time, I crapped my pants in front of my brother when I was WAY too old to be crapping my pants. I loved to make my brothers laugh, and farts were the tops. So when I thought I was going to release the loudest, funniest fart in history, I had to share it with my oldest brother.

I tried to squeeze it out. He was cracking up. I was yelling horrible things like, "IT'S A LOUD ONE. OH MY GOSH THIS IS THE ONE THAT WILL BLOW THE HOUSE AWAY."
When all of a sudden a very heavy surprise entered my pants, and I had to waddle into the bathroom with my brother laughing as hard as I have ever heard him laugh.

I got the worst lecture ever from my dad which was titled,
"Mallory, you are seven years old. You are WAY too old to be crapping your pants."
"I thought it was a fart."
"I don't even know what to say to that."


These are lessons that were earned, learned and re-learned. I still use them today.
(Especially the one about not crapping yourself.)


With sorcery,
Mally

My Worst First Date:Ever.

I finally have something good to write about.
 And it all started with Twitter. The trending topic was:

#MentionADateYoullNeverForget  

...

Instantly, memories of the most awkward, embarrassing (and now hilarious) first attempts at dating I have ever been on come
 crashing through my head. There's simply the awkward moments. The Pokemon theme song comes on, which normally initiates 
instant brownie points. Until the guy won't let me say anything because he is yelling over the music, "NO NO NO WAIT. THIS IS MY
FAVORITE PART."  

But I have one that just tops the cake.
This guy was a nice guy. He seemed like a decent catch to me. He wore polo shirts, that made him a nice guy, right?
My parents adored him. And truthfully, he was nice. He just didn't know anything about dating.
So he asked me on a date, and I said yes. We lived about an hour away from each other, (We met through church, just in case anyone
is out there wondering if I was on Christian Mingle or something when I was 15. I was not. At that time, I was worried about when my 
favorite band would be close enough to where my Dad would take me.)
He wanted to take me to Magic Mountain, because it's about thirty minutes away from where he lives. I like roller coasters. Those kind
make me pass out a lot, but I still like them. (it's the weirdest thing, i'll be doing all the typical roller coaster-y things: laughing, screaming, then all of a sudden
I can't see and my head hurts. Worst form of fun ever.) It was supposed to be a group thing. He told me about 8 "couples" were going.
To me, that was fool proof from awkwardness. 
My mom dropped me off at the Flying J which is a restaurant/truck stop/gas station/ pretty much they should just turn it into Wal Mart.
 She called my date over to the car. She had met him before. She looked him straight in the eye and goes,
"Don't forget to feed her, she'll get cranky and you really don't want to see that." He chuckled nervously.
"I'm serious Look at my face," He looked at her face. It was in fact, serious.
" You look at her, and she's this small, cute person but I swear she eats like a trucker. FEED HER." Could my mom not be any more clear?
Unless you want to see cannibalism happen, make sure I am fed! 
He said he would. He looked honest when he said it, so we went on our way.
"The car's over here!" He said and led me to a row of cars. 

Sidenote: I am not a judger of cars. I'm REALLY not. But I play "Guess which car he's taking me in." just for lolz.
There was a civic, a small truck, but in the middle of these two cars there was this vehicle unlike any other in this universe.
This "car" if you could call it, was the most beat up, looked-like-a-3-year-old's-art-project type of vehicle.
I kind of laughed inside my head (I do that) and thought, "Well, it's not that one. If i were that one, I would die."

It was that one. I even made it awkward. He went around to open the "door" for me (Half the handle was missing, the door had no pain
and therefore was a different color from the rest of this said vehicle, making it a very, very reassuring death trap.)
Before he did that I made a wise crack like "Haha, very funny. Is it the Civic?" 
He looked confused. 
"No, uh, this is my friend's car. Did your mom see it?" 
"No...why?"
"I'm not sure if she'd let you go in it. Don't worry. My friend is a racecar driver, he built like half of this himself."
HA! You think i'm worried, little do you know, I am currently excepting my inevitable death, because it is happening. Today.
In this car. Because this thing is going onto the freeway.
You couldn't read the brand of the tires, and quite frankly they looked as if they had been baked in an
Easy Bake Oven. But I was brave. I climbed in, dodging some wires sticking out on the floor, (No carpets, of course.) and sat next 
to a spring that was popping out of where my butt was supposed to be. I gazed up at the rusted metal, and there was a hole on top
making it a sunroof, without windows. I took a deep breath and reached for the seatbelt, but what I found instead was rope.
Yes, rope. Burnt at both ends so it wouldn't unravel, tie yourself in kind of rope. 

I knew I was going to die.


They picked excellent topics for conversations on the way there, and i'm not even exaggerating, they talked about 
a) How awesome and reliable the car was.
b) Fat girls that looked like ruffle potato chips.

So, I was silent the entire time because
a) I'm gonna die.I'm gonna die.I'm gonna die.I'm gonna die.I'm gonna die.I'm gonna die.I'm gonna die.I'm gonna die..
b) ....Wait, what?? Do i look like a ruffle potato chip? No, I'm not fat...what if I squeeze my belly to look like  a ruffled potato
chip? Haha, that's weird. Ok, stop before someone sees.

We made it there in one piece, so my mood instantly perked up a few notches.
I asked when we were meeting up with the others. The response?
"OH.....did I not tell you?? They all backed out. It's going to be the three of us today."
Of course it was! That's not awkward at all, me being on a first date with a guy and his friend from school.
So we awkwardly figured out which guy would sit by me most rides, and then they would trade off.
About 2 hours passed. The hunger was setting in. PS, it was lunchtime. Who doesn't eat at lunch time?
Crazy people, that's who.
I decided that these were not the men to be left in charge of my stomach. I had to do this myself.
So I was casual. 
"So uh, anyone getting hungry?"
"Nah." Came immediately from the boys. 
This is what my brain said: I DO NOT CARE. I NEED FOOD. I NEED CHEESEBURGERS. NOW. AND WHEN I GET SAID FOOD
I AM GOING TO HIT YOU WITH IT, BECAUSE YOU WERE WARNED.
This is what I said,  "Well, there's a 2 hour wait for this ride, why don't we eat, and then we'll be all digested and happy when we're
all ready to get on the ride!" They looked at each other, and agreed.
We were standing next to a pizza restaurant, and judging by the fact that it was Magic Mountain, I'm pretty sure their pizza was
made from flatulence and taco seasoning packets. But I didn't care.I wanted food and I wanted it now.
"Do you want to eat here?"
"Yes!" I said a little too happily
"Actually," his friend butted in and I instantly hated him, because actually is actually the worst word in these circumstances, actually,
"I need to get fitted for a tux, my dad's wedding is tomorrow. Let's go there and go eat at the mall about twenty minutes from there."
I tried to hide the utter despair that  flooded my thoughts, my heart, and my stomach. But I could not eat despair.
So we journeyed off back to Hell: on wheels and we drove off.
We went to the tux shop. There was a Mexican restaurant right next door. 
"Why don't I eat while you guys are doing your tuxedo thing?" Hint. Hint hint.
"Haha don't be silly, this will take about five minutes."
Oh, how I wish I could have trusted him.
I do not remember anything about that store other then it literally took one hour and forty-seven minutes, because he got fitted,
and then his dad called and goes, "Hey, I have your tux covered, your mom sent me the sizes from formal. You don't need to get fitted today."
But me, being the angry hungry monster I was, heard 
"Hey, we spent almost two hours in this store for nothing because I'm not responsible. PS, i'm not even your date." 
I was about ready to cry at this point. We had reached that dreaded mark. The five hour mark, where I lose concept of reality
and could basically eat a hippo at this point.
We got to the mall 20 minutes later. I then confessed how hungry I was and used all of my energy to sprint to Sbarro.
He didn't pay for me and I ate two pizza slices, three breadsticks, and a large soda. 
You know what they did? They sat there eating their wussy meals and said things like,
"Wow. You eat a lot. How do you stay so small? You REALLY eat a lot of food." (Again, not exaggerating.)
Aaaaamd that's it. I don't remember the rest of the date because I had eaten.
A fed Mally is a happy Mally. Literally, 90% of my grumps come from lack of hunger.
And a couple years later, me and this guy became close friends. And he asked me about my worst date ever.
And I told him this exact story. Didn't tell him at first that it was him, told it like you're reading it now.
A couple months later, he surprised me with flowers, took me to dinner, paid for everything, I never touched a door, and there
were no awkward third wheels.
SO at least this has a happy ending, sorta.

Hope you enjoyed!

Life update!

I realized I haven't blogged in like, three months.
HI. HOW ARE YOU.
My cat is drinking out of the water glass I have on my bed, so now I am dehydrated.

Life is still good! A little crazy, but nothing I can't handle.

I have straight As. I love saying that. Buuut, I only have three classes, so it's not a huge accomplishment or anything. But it makes me feel speshal. =K

My job is awesome. It's ridiculously challenging some days, and I'm pretty sure I have developed a new organ for patience, but I love it. =]
I always start writing these things and think I have billions of interesting stories, and witty things, but then I get to this point and i'm like "welp, I'm done."

Happy days

The days are getting really good for me. I'm still loving my classes, and i'm doing really well in them too.

I started my job. (Well, training) and I can tell that i'm going to absolutely love it. It's exactly what I want in a job. To help people,  to work with something similar in my future field, and to be paid a good amount!  And I don't have to wear some dumb uniform! And it comes with bonuses, like an insurance policy I can afford!

I start Monday officially. I meet my clients, get to know them, and go from there. I would love to give more detail, but I probably won't be posting a lot of stories from work, cause I'm kinda sworn to keep a level of privacy.

I'm still going to keep up my photography business on the side. Now, if only I had a Steinway and a Vespa, I could be perfectly happy on my own! 

But yeah. That about sums it up! i'm just trying to keep moving forward, and to not let the little things get me down!

Boom Shacka Lacka

Me: 1. Procrastination: 0
Rarely happens. But today, I left my Saturday open and I designated it to "Hans Zimmer/Homework/Cleaning" day. Which I DESPERATELY needed to do. But since I've been un employed, my brain has been this giant catastrophe of worry, and I literally spent every waking second of my life job hunting.
But alas, I am employed once more!
And I seriously couldn't be happier. I have been blessed with quite possibly the best job. Ever. (Until I get my nursing degree.)
I wanted a  job that allowed me to help people. I didn't want to wait until I had my degree to start making a difference in people's lives.
Unfortunately,  this doesn't happen to kids my age unless you know someone, since I don't have experience and my only job has been working in a fast food restaurant.
BUT.
My dad had this client, and she started talking to him about finding people for a job, and he recommended me, so I went for an interview, and wellah!
I am now employed by Positive Purpose. Also, I keep calling it, "Positive Porpoise" which is very misleading because I don't in fact work with dolphins. I'm not sure what my title is yet, but I will be assisting disabled adults. (physical and mental)
I'm really looking forward to it, I know it's going to be a great positive experience, and will benefit others as well as me for the future.
I seriously can barely contain my excitement!
This has taken a huge weight off my shoulders. I hate uncertainty, especially with a job. I like knowing that I can afford my cell phone bill, and gas, and magical things like that.
Also, guess who beasted at homework today? This girl! Which usually doesn't happen, and I don't just sit down and do everything in one day, but i'm trying to get all of my homework done before Sundays, so I can have time to focus on the Sabbath.
So far, it's going really well!
Right now, I just sighed with relief because things are starting to work out really well.
I got my job, and I have school. I have my things to work really hard in, to benefit my future.
Yay!
I feel like I can plan the rest of my life accordingly.

Which is not true, but it feels nice to have things in order!

Quite possibly the weirdest twenty minutes of my life.

If that title doesn't explain it, I don't know what will.
Tonight was my childhood development class. I was especially excited for that class, because occasionally, i'm around a kid and i'm like "What the heck do I do to make him/her like me?"
Plus, I will have little Mallys someday, and it will be cool to know how to parent them better.

I freak out trying to get to class, even though I know exactly where it is, and i'm leaving my house an hour early, when school is fifteen minutes away. No doubt a gift from my mother.
I got into class around 5:20, and already something is weird. There is a girl talking to herself, in Spanish, in the creepiest voice I have ever heard in my life. It was part whisper, part Batman, part evil creature in any sci-fi movie.
"She's on the phone," I think and sit down in my usual, "I want to be in the front but not too near the front" seat.

Then I notice no phone. No headphones. She is looking around the room whispering things, asking herself questions in English, answering them in Spanish. I stealth videotaped 30 seconds of it. (I'm terrible, I know.) If I can find a way to post it, I will.

So, I decide to distract myself. I'm the type of person where my face cannot hide what I'm really thinking. If i'm sad, my eyes water. If i'm judging someone's lack of clothing, there is full attitude on my face. It's a terrible curse.

So then she talks to me.

"What do you collect?"
"Uh....I don't collect anything."
"I collect watches."
"Oh, that is really cool!"
"Yeah. There are 12 different bugs I like to collect."
"That's..good..."
"So do you do anything?"
"Uhhhhh..I play the piano?"
"Oh thats cool. Do you take music classes at BC?"
"I'm taking a guitar class."
"Oh, so you don't know music."
"..Yeah." (False. I play a select few guitar songs. And I play them like nobody's business.)
"What do you think of today's music and how it reflects in today's society?"
"Um, it's...good. Lots of..computer...stuff."
"Yeah. And lots of rappers."
"Yeah.."
"So. You look young. 23?"
"No, i'm 19."
"HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA." (I am not exaggerating the ha's here.)
She continued. I sat in silence.
"You look so young. So small."
"Thank you."
"Really small."
"Thanks."
"But pretty."
"Thank you."

And then three students walked in and it stopped. WEIRDEST. 20 MINUTES. OF. MY. LIFE.

My mom

My mom is adorable.
She has finally found a project she loves to sew, and stays up late doing it.
I like seeing her this happy. She has always wanted to start a business, or be a fashion designer (For Disney, of course =D)
And so even though she's not making Princess dresses, she found a hobby she loves.
Which means weekend trips to the LA fabric district, (Which means guitar shops for my dad, that's a plus)
And she comes in my room after every trip to the fabric store and shows me everything she bought. And is so excited about it!
I guess I really like seeing my mom happy.
It's also funny to hear "mom-isms" while she sews. I'll hear a random victory cheer sometimes.
My family isn't SUPER close, like call each other on weekends, know lots of details about your every day life kind of close, but I still find comfort in other things. I'm a lot like my parents, which at sometimes, SUCKS. (socks and sandals, dad? You KNOW that's wrong.) but I see the great people they are a lot of the time, and it's nice to know I might not turn out so bad.
Not that I would turn out so bad, I guess it's just a common fear.
I like coming home from work to hear my mom's sewing machine going, and the Dodger's game on in the next room, accompanied by a bass line from the 70s.

These are happy sounds in my house.



In other non sentimental news, I killed a cockroach today. I was very proud. However, then mother nature took my baby birds.
I was literally heart broken! Those birds were my babies! I checked on them every day, and they had names, and they made cute cheeping sounds, and now they're dead.



I'm also a tad sick, so if I start writing lyrics comparable to The Beatles, i'm not high, or a genius or in a yellow submarine or anything, I have a fever.  And it's not fun, especially since I work outdoors.