So my migraine medicine works. I was a little nervous, the doctor said that some work for some people while others work for others, with no particular rhyme or reason. You just have to start at the top of the list until you find something that works for you. Fortunately, #1 works for me. It is not a pain reliever, but it actually stops the migraine in its tracks. When you feel the first signs of an impending migraine (for me it's the aura), you take it and hope. It is probably the most awful tasting thing I have ever had, but at least it has a payoff. Kind of like Fear Factor.

For the next six weeks, Arizona will see very little of me. First it's off to North Carolina for work. I'm hoping for some beach time. Then to Jamaica for play. DEFINITELY some beach time. Then to Mexico to be a good person. I will be in Arizona for little over one day in all of these three trips. Love it.

Remember that time that I said I was going to post more? Yeah, about that...

So due to events that some of you have heard stories, I have been a transient for just over a month. I am happy to say that in less than three weeks I should be beginning to settle into a home. My father's house will be vacant at the end of the month and I will be moving in. By myself for now, looking for roommates., although not too aggressively due to last month's happenings. But if you know anyone...

So I've been traveling more for work. And getting more opportunities to do cool stuff. I was on Northern California just last week to do the AV for a manager conference, a repeat of what I did for the one in Phoenix. They said next year they will have me do more of them. I'm finally becoming a blip on the radar among the big dogs of the west coast, and I'm rather ok with that.

I am the proud owner of a new puppy. I know what you're thinking, "Jessica, seriously? Another puppy?" You must remember that just over a month ago I was happily settled in a stable household. He is, by far, the cutest thing, ever. In the history of time. Little Baxter is a Yorkshire terrier, of the runtiest kind. He is wee. When I say wee, I mean he's pushing 4.5 pounds wee. His barks sound like my hiccups. Adorable.

I suppose that is all for now. Hopefully I can commit to posting and updating and whatever more often. But we all know that I'm afraid of commitment.

Praise Buddha!

More power to these flight attendants! When I first heard this story, it was on the evening news playing in my front room, and I was just listening to it from the other room. I was appalled that the airline kicked off the family because the child was crying. And then I walked into the room to see the story, and saw the girl. The THREE year old girl. And I was happy. These flight attendants have a job to do, and just because it was a small child that was kicked off we should feel bad? If any other demographic refused to get in their seat, they would have been kicked off and it wouldn't have even made the news. The irony of the whole deal is that as I watched it, the parents were on this news program pleading their sob story and at no point during the interview would this girl sit down. Even at her own home her parents couldn't get her to sit still for a 5 minute interview.

As a member of the service industry, I applaud these flight attendants. They were at work. Their job is to get that plane ready to take off safely and on time. They did their job. I have no doubt that during the flight other passengers were rude or inconsiderate to them. It's a big part of working in the service industry. And I'm tired of it.

We have become such a "the customer is always right" society that even manners fall by the wayside. I was at Subway the other day. The lady in front of me was ordering sandwiches for her family, while on the phone, and the workers were trying to get her order right. She wasn't paying attention, so they wrapped up her last sandwich without any condiments because she wasn't responding that she wanted any. She realized that she hadn't told them what she wanted and started yelling, asking them what was on her sandwich if she didn't tell them what she wanted. She kicked and screamed and threw a tantrum as they opened her sandwich back up to put the condiments on. Not once in her experience did she say "please," "thank you" or even project a positive, or even civil, tone. And the Sandwich Artists, who I praise for their work of making yummy delicious meals for me, had to smile, thank her, and invite her back soon.

Bullshit.

I work in a restaurant. Recently minimum wage for tipped positions was raised to $3.75 and hour. Before January it was $2.13. I can't count how many times I have heard my fellow service industry members say, "I don't make enough money to put up with this," or "I don't get paid enough to be treated this way." There shouldn't be an "enough" in this case. What is enough money to be looked down upon or yelled at? Is there a price to be treated like less than a person? Not for me. I walk away silently from someone who takes it to that level. I will not e treated that way. I have been yelled at and about (to managers, etc.). I have been stared at, and up and down, scowled at, scoffed at, etc. I have had things thrown at me. All just to make a buck. And I'm sure I haven't even experienced close to the worst of it.

You aren't better than me because you tip me. I'm not better than you because you're rude. You aren't smarter than me because I write down what you say and put it in a computer. I don't work for you. You are not my employer. Your return address isn't on my W2 come January.

A girl I work with tries to deal with rude people by thinking that maybe they're going through a rough time. Again, I call bullshit. There is no excuse to be rude to a perfect stranger because of what you are going through. If you can't summon a smile, "please," "thank you"; if you can't let me finish my sentence before you interrupt me to tell me you'd like a Coke; if you can't listen well enough to know that the response to, "How are you doing today?" is not, "I'll have an iced tea"; don't come out into public. People treat beggars and dogs better than they treat people in the service industry. I have seen it, felt it and watched it happen to others.

And I say bullshit.

New layout, new blog.

Blogger has now made it very user friendly to change, rearrange and generally stylize your blog. I attribute this to the phenomenon known as myspace, in its infinite "hot layout" glory. I apprecaite it, because I, unlike David or my other compatriots, have a lack of knowledge when it comes to the subject. I choose the word "knowledge" rather than "ability" because I'm sure that I'm quite able to edit layouts and design my page, but I lack the fundamental knowledge.

Writing. I need to do more of it. Considering my desire to for a career centered around writing, I do it embarassingly little. Maybe for lack of readership, maybe for lack of inspiration, maybe for overabundance of the word "lack". I'm not going to commit in writing to more writing, because if I don't follow through, I might feel bad. That's the beauty of being non-committal. You can't have failed to achieve a goal that was never set. I say this in an "I'm making fun of people who say this because it shows such little ambition and other important nouns to have in life, but secretly I kind of believe it" kind of fashion.

Currently reading Cunt by Inga Muscio and On Writing Well by William Zissner. "Currently reading" will be a new addition to my blog, because to me reading is personal, but only if you share it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8x14cLGh5o

My favorite part is the song at the end.

Happy Feet. Tomorrow. One minute dance party!

Christmas in November?

So since when is Christmas the next holiday after Halloween?

It seems to me this year that advertisers tried to get a jump on the competition by starting their campaigning before the trick-or-treaters even got home. They thought that if they started early, they might get some early gift card sales and people would by in. Either the same advertising firm works for everyone, or everyone had the same idea. November first employees pulled down the Halloween decorations and rather than put up turkeys, here comes Santa Claus. And it makes me want to vomit.

Thank goodness the music hasn't started yet, because I don't know that I could handle the 47.5 different versions of Jingle Bells running through my world for the next two months. The nationally recognized day for Christmas season to start is the day after Thanksgiving. Everyone knows it. Come on now people, at least give Veteran's Day its due.

We done good folks. We done good.

http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/1108AzGayMarriage08-ON.html

"Arizona voters first in nation to reject ban."

Y ingles nunca va a ser mi lengua oficial. Nunca.

Election day is tomorrow.

And I couldn't be more excited. Beyond the fact that all of the mudslinging slam ads will come off of television and radio, and all of the obnoxiously colored signs will be pulled from the streets, I'm excited to vote for technically the first time.

I know. I'm 22 years old, meaning I was old enough during the 2004 presidential election to vote. I tried. I tried to vote in the Democratic primary as well. "Tried" being the operative word in both of these sentences.

The Democratic primary was my very first voting experience. I was pumped. I got up earlier than usual so that I could hit the polls before work, I had no idea how long it would take. My polling place, which I had verified the night before, was a little church nestled in the debaucherous bars of Tempe. I parked, but didn't see any lines or people for that matter, and got a little concerned. But as I went inside, I was greeted by a few seniors (the elderly kind, not the about to graduate kind) who seemed very excited to have a voter, especially a young one. Or maybe I had spinach in my teeth and they got the giggles out of it. I wasn't on their list of people to vote there. I verified my address and they assured me that I was in the right place.

"You are registered Democrat, right?"
"Well, no, I'm registered independent."
"Oh, there's the problem. You have to be registered Democrat."
"Wait. Arizona is an open primary state [another fact that I quadruple checked before hand]. That means that as a voter registered independent, I get to choose which primary to vote in. And since Bush is an incumbent candidate, and there is only one primary, I get this one."
"Well, all of that is true. Except this isn't a 'primary' it is a Democratic candidate selection poll [or something else equally ridiculous, I don't really remember what she said]. And you have to be registered Democrat to vote in those."

So I left. I left, and I cried. I know, laugh at the stupid girl who gets worked up and cries. But this was serious to me. It was my first opportunity to exercise my right to vote, and I followed the rules. Before I registered independent, I made 1,000% sure that we were an open primary state. I followed the rules, and still got screwed. So I cried. Get over it.

The funny thing is that people in power wonder why young people don't vote. Or why any people don't vote for that matter. After my first experience, I [and I hate to say this] understand better why people don't vote. They have a bad experience, and so they don't go back. Not me though, I had a Bush to vote out of office, and nothing was keeping me away from exercising that right in November of 2004. Or so I thought.

In October and November of 2004, ASU was buzzing, as we had the opportunity to host the final of the series of presidential debates leading up to the elections. Being a journalism student, I had the opportunity to work with a division of ABC and actually be in that scary looking high-security area. I had to get a background check and all that jazz to get my press pass. We even got to write press releases and put together packages in class regarding the debates. I was so pumped about this election, it was a bit silly.

Election day comes around. Again, I'm prepared. I check the polling place, and it's the same as last time. I've moved since registering, but never changed anything, so I went by the old address. The line was long, but not Space Mountain long, so I wasn't too worried. Until the time kept ticking on, and on, and on. So I missed my Tuesday night class. Too bad, it was voting time. And the time passed easily because most of the people in the line were ASU students, and generally friendly. There was a rotating group of people who brought snacks and drinks to us. Sweet. I was still pretty hungry and, with a little persuasion on my part, got a pizza delivered to the line. I shared my pineapple pizza with my fellow voters as the sun was setting. It was romantic.

As we finally got close enough to the door that we could see inside the building, we started getting yelled at for things like talking, and laughing, and I think looking the wrong way. I got inside, up to the table, and lo and behold, I'm not on the list. The man who was working's bedside manner had either faded with the day or never existed in the first place. Before I could even ask any questions, he was quick to answer them

"You're probably in the wrong place. You could try to go to another one, but you'll probably get there too late, and it would probably be the wrong place too. You could fill out a provisional ballot here, but it probably won't count. Because you're probably in the wrong place."

To his surprise, I took the provisional ballot. Not that he made my odds sound good, but there was no way in hell I was just going to walk away. So I filled it out. He gave me my copy of some paper with a number on it. He said I could call to check if my vote counted the following day, but it "probably wouldn't." I thanked him and left. And you guessed it, I cried. I was confused, didn't understand what happened, and to top it off, the guy was a real jerk. Not only did I cry, I called my dad, and cried. Lay off, I just care.

I never called. I didn't want to know that it didn't count. I wanted to hold on to the hope that it did. So I didn't call.

And now, two terrible voting experiences in my back pocket, all I want to do is go to the polls tomorrow and be a voter. I want my sticker. I want to get my sticker, wear it to work, and know that it actually means something this time. I want to have a good experience so I can tell all of my lame ass friends that don't vote, that it's worth it. That sure, I got shit on by the system twice, but there's no way I'm going to let that keep me down. I have a right to vote, and I will never let a shitty system or crab ass election worker take that away from me.

And neither should anyone else.

I miss Halloween. :(

Your results:
You are Iron Man

Iron Man 95% Supergirl 82% Spider-Man 80% Green Lantern 80% The Flash 80% Wonder Woman 77% Catwoman 75% Robin 72% Superman 70% Hulk 50% Batman 40%

Inventor. Businessman. Genius.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

Expectations are the worst thing to happen to humans since, well I don't know, they're bad. So many people go into situations with expectations for what is going to happen. If they expectations are met or exceeded, great! What a phenomenal experience. But what happens when those expectations aren't met? The person is already so emotionally invested in the event that they expected to happen that they miss all of the other wonderful things and possibilities spinning around them. And I think that it is much more sad for someone to miss out on all of those things around them than for their initial expectation not to have been met.

This isn't in relation to anything specific, just a fairly recent realization.

I need out! I want to live somewhere that I live, and I don't want it to be here. I've been feeling like I'm separate from the world around me. Not the "the world is moving fast and I'm in slow motion" that people in the movies feel. I feel like I can't touch the world around me, like it's there, but it isn't. If I were to reach out and touch something, my hands would go right through it kind of feeling. I need out.

So thanks to the help of the amazing and talented Bob, my footage is shot and sent off to California. Hopefully I will hear something either way soon. I'm excited, and I know that I did my part, and was myself, and if that fits with what they're looking for, great! If not, oh well. I'll default to being a surly softball coach.

What an f-ing rad weekend! I might be moving soon :)

Anyone know how to cure tendonitis?

I wasn't sad about it before. I was just mad. I'm sad now.

What an exhausting weekend. But it was awesome. It's nice having two days off, and going back to work is relief from the weekend.

Let's start with Friday. After not failing my math test, I played two games of intense softball(it was super humid=extra tiring). Then proceeded to the cowboys and indians party to live it up. Knowing that I was getting up the next morning rather early, I left at a modest 2:15ish. Went to bed around 2:30 and a short 4 hours later got up to go skydiving. Yay! Second time, just as fun. It might be my new hobby, if I can set aside the money to get certified. Then, rather than taking a nap and letting the body rest, it was off to the rock gym to do some climbing with my girls for a few hours. I slept well last night. Add in three and half hours of softball today, and you get, that's right, me not wanting to do math homework.

Sweet. Camping next weekend. Yay!

Wine + Love Actually + Calc III homework = unproductive evening

It's funny how you can want something for so long, and once you have the opportunity to have it, you don't seize it and clutch it with all your might. Funny.

Grey's Anatomy Season 2, pre-ordered, should be coming to my door as soon as it gets to stores. I'm excited.

Living with mom has been good. It's definitely different, but good. It's kind of weird being on the Monday through Friday kick, but I dig it, and I'm not going to complain.

School starts on Monday, and I'm enrolled. I'm pretty excited to be doing something other than just working. And yup, I'm a nerd, taking medical and bio ethics and calc 3 just for funsies.

So we're home. Pictures and stories to come. Every morning I wake up and feel like I should be on the boat, it's very weird and disorienting. Also, I already miss my boys :(.