failure

I was accused once of never surrounding myself with people who push my boundaries.  I don't think that's true, or I wouldn't be doing what I do.

But right now, I'm kicking myself. 

I'm trying to get my CDL, and there's a LOT involved.  At least, it's a lot for me.  A creative mind that really hasn't the first clue how engines work, trying to learn about trucks, big trucks, their rules, regulations, and test in three days.

First three I knew, the next five I hadn't even seen before.  And really, it was all downhill from there.  So I told the lady I'd be back tomorrow.

I sat in my car and let a few tears slide.  I couldn't help it.  I was so mad.  And upset.  And frustrated.

I think that most people's minds are like this:

And really, my mind is more like this:

In fact, I would have to say that where people's devils usually try to talk them into doing something they know is wrong, mine doesn't worry about that petty shit.  Oh, no.  Mine waits for me to screw something up....then gives the good me a knee check, cracks it over the head with a baseball bat, drags it down an alleyway and proceeds to beat it to a bloody pulp, then considers give it a curb-check.

So failure, especially when it's something that I'm really trying at, is almost crippling.  

But this doesn't mean I'm quitting.  It just means that I'm really 'effin determined now.  And as long as I they'll let me, I'll keep trying.  But man...it really does suck.  A lot.

Class is in Session

You know I can't generally sleep. So at 4:30, I hid under the covers for another hour, then finally got up to go get ready for school.  Class begins at 7:00.  After filling out various forms and paperwork, we get sent down to pee in a cup and hop on one foot....and all the other things that are sneakily labeled as a 'physical'. 

I was a little disheartened, because when I got to the clinic, they told me me total wait just to be seen was 2 1/2 hours. I think they wanted to give themselves space, but I think I might have been there shy of an hour. 

Our instructor, a laid back and jovial guy, told us he'd see us at 1. So....now that we are back,  I think the quirky little man will still make us wait until 1. 

Fun, fun. 

But on an up note, I passed my physical, I know I am clean for drugs and alcohol, and now I just gotta get it in my mind that I wont be intimidated by such a large piece of machinery.

Pedro ain't here, man....

"Pedro doesn't live here.  In fact, he hasn't lived here in the three years you've been coming and knocking on the door and asking for him.  I should know.  I've lived here for six [years]."

As a guest, I don't think that it's really my place to be opening the door of someone's home to total strangers, so to me the unfortunate task of bothering my gracious hosts as they try to lay down and sleep to answer the weird knock on the door.

They should really just be grateful that I didn't wake them up at 2:00 yesterday morning when the first few knocks on the door filtered in.

In fact, after geetting the bejeezus scared out of me, I lay in the darkness, debating.  My first thought was, "Where in the hell is the nearest sword?" In this particular household, it is not something which is out of the way to ask.  In fact, I'm more apt to lay my hands on a nice bastard sword or even a claymore before I can get to a 9mm. As my heart thudded in my chest in the cover of night, I rationalized two things.  If it were an emergency, like a fire, the firefighters would just kick the door in.  I wouldn't have to worry about it.  As long as they were streaks of yellow, I wouldn't have to bring the 'driver stick' across their skulls in a hurry (which, by the way, is a wonderful walking stick gifted to me by a dear friend who used to be a trucker...she carried this cane to protect herself when she was over the road.  It is magnificently topped with a skeletal hand which clutches a red glass orb).  If they were dressed for mischief, the 'driver-be-good-stick' was the handiest thing I had.

If it was someone who was supposed to be able to enter, they'd have a key, nullifying the necessity of having to even knock in the first place.  

Quietly, the knocking went away.

But as you can see, it didn't happen this evening and I get to see my friends wandering around in fluffy white bath robes.

(Maybe I should just get them some pink fuzzy slippers to match.)

The story goes that there is a woman who gets to the point of tying one on (whether it is drugs or just alcohol is unknown) and the woman has come up at all hours of the night, knocked on the door, and even made circles around the house, screaming up for 'Pedro' to come down.  This has happened on and off for the past three years.

I have a lot of questions for this insane woman.  Firstly, how can you get so shitty-faced-messed-up as to forget that someone hasn't lived in a place for years?  It has got to be drugs, because even at my worst alcohol binges, I might have all the attention span of a regal blue tang (Dory!), but I have faith that I would remember someone moved away over three years ago.

Really, I wish she would have been all crazy and shit.  It's been a while since I've gotten to call the cops on someone for displaying their ass in public.

For now, as long as the storyline stops there, we'll be doing good. 

The Ugly World of Childhood Pageantry

Several months ago, my daughter received a letter from the NAM program, commonly known as National American Miss.

In the beginning, we thought this was a good opportunity for her.  The idea of public speaking, poise, and the fact that this pageant did not do swimsuit competitions totally won points for me.  She went in, did an interview, and then paid something of the neighborhood of $50 for a photoshoot.  Okay.  Whatever.  

So we get a letter in the mail, saying that she'd been chosen for a state finalist.  That's cool.  However....there was a workshop she was required to attend which was $260 or something like that.  But she really, really, really, wanted to attend, so her father took her (because at the time, I was working weekends).  

We receive a LOT of information.  The fact the children need to find sponsors to defer the cost, all the incidental expenses that add up, and other requirements.

She does another workshop, same tune of money, and now...now I start sweating it.

But a friend loans us a dress, we shell out money, and make it through the pageant.  My daughter doesn't place, but she learned a lot of things.  In fact, she learned so much, she doesn't ever want to do a pageant again.

I don't blame her.

I think, all together, just in fees, we shelled out about $1000.  I'm grateful we didn't have to buy a dress, a wonderful friend of mine loaned us one, but those dresses can start at $30 and just go up.  Ridiculously up.  And my daughter found out later on, the concept of 'nickel and diming' someone to death.  Every extra competition was anywhere between $50-$150, with the possibility of winning a trophy.  The contests were everything from academic (you had to get people to write you letters of recommendations and have copies of your report cards) to photogenic (you could pay a professional to make you some pretty pictures) to spokesmodel (where you paid to read cue cards and things).  Merchandising - you get that kind of idea; they had shirts, sweatshirts, make-up boxes, teddy bears, and all sorts of sparkly jewelry which makes little girls squee in delight.

And a few days before, we scoured malls and stores to find shoes to match her two dresses (one formal, borrowed, and the other business-like, $60 which was used for an 'interview' process they did).  We found one pair at a place called the Buffalo Exchange, which is an excellent used clothing store to get trendy stuff at (they were chunky black heels, six-inches plus a platform base, the heel was squared off and we got them for $16.50....my daughter had huge feet, so this place would be a treasure trove for drag queens), a pair of heels for the shiny, steampunk-esque formal dress ($30), and a secondary pair of black heels she was more comfortable interviewing in ($20).  Let's not count all the food, the parking fees the hotel that hosted it charged (which was $16.00 a day, which they graciously reduced to $2.00....the Royal Sonesta was nice looking, but I was rather pissed they wanted to charge $5.00 for a personal pizza that was stone cold and $3.00 for a can of soda on their cash-only buffets set up for the event...), or even the other weird incidentals.

And even after all that expenditure, they wanted you to pay for different video/picture packages, starting at (surprise, surprise) $50 and going up significantly.  Sorry, I have a hard time paying $110 for all the video of my daughter, particularly when the MC mispronounces her name.  Even the final show had 'tickets' which should have been sold, at $15 a piece.  We had to buy three just to watch the show, and although she sold 2 more to her friend, since it was on a Monday Night, pretty much no one could attend but us.  It sucked, but the fact her little family was there to support her, I think, was enough.

I do have to interject here, I think that she made quite an impression.  She got up and, in her introduction, let everyone know she wanted to 'serve her country' and 'join the United States Marine Corps'.  She had a few total strangers come over and actually congratulate her and tell her they were proud of her.

SO...even with a lot of grumbling to myself and trying to gently express the fact that this was a business, regardless of the fact they're trying to sell it to little girls, I was rather put out.  I tried not to be too much Debbie Downer to my daughter, but I think that after seeing all the prices, she kind of got the point.  Every extra she wanted started at $50 and by the time we'd gotten to her actually having to go through the motions of doing the pageant requirements, I think she was now finishing as gracefully as she could, but really not into it anymore.  By the time we had the conversation about the event, after it was over, she said about the second workshop, she decided she didn't want to have to do it anymore.  But she didn't want to quit, because she'd known we had spent a whole lot of money on it.

I wanted to bang my head on the steering wheel in frustration.

The reason being is that two days before school let out, we got a letter for Officer Training Camp for her JROTC and the costs required for it.  It was everything I could do to keep from biting her head off at that point.  Very quietly, through gritted teeth, I told her that all the money we wasted on the pageant could have been used to pay for the JROTC camp.

But...you know.  Kid logic.

I wasn't hard on her about it, I don't think.  But my kids are more aware of the realities of living in the 'burbs.  We don't really care about 'keeping up with the Joneses', never really have.  But we do try to make sure our kids get to do everything they want to do, whatever they want to do.  Most of our money goes to our kids.

Which, although this post was about one of my minions getting to have her eyes open for the pageantry world, I've been kicking around the idea of trying to get my CDL.  At the very least, the kids would have more money to do the things they want, and I would get to see the states, which I've never done.

So wish us luck.  The summer is now upon us, and in the stifling, humid heat of Houston, we'll have to find other things to do.