F-word after f-word

Author's note: I wrote this nearly in full three days ago with every intention of posting it then.  I won't go into the details as to why that didn't happen; it's boring and no one wants to hear me whine more.  And on that note, you'll have to forgive me or else hate me for this, because it's incredibly whiney; it won't happen again (I don't think).  Finally, I referenced other things that were going on a few times, and there will be a short explanation of that next time - it's not particularly interesting, but (provided someone's reading this) I feel you deserve something better than random references that I never bother to set into context.  Enjoy!

(If you understand the title reference, you're such a winner)

Okay, so I know this is supposed to be a blog about my adventures in preparing for university, but can I take a minute of your time away from the mission to complain about my day yesterday?  Besides, it’s related to my preparations.  Well, part of it is.  At least, sort-of.  Okay, okay, so it’s a stretch.  Still, I just need to get this off my chest, because yesterday was a very yucky day.

The night before last, I went to bed with every intention of waking up the next morning in an EXCELLENT mood at 7:30 a.m., going for a FABULOUS early morning bike ride, followed by a STIMULATING yoga workout, then eating a DELICIOUS breakfast, and proceeding with my day in a generally WONDERFUL and PERFECT and SUPERIOR sort of a fashion.  Let me just emphasize for a second how AWESOMEPOSSUMSAUCE this was all going to be, if everything went according to plan.  That was my mistake, of course, because as everyone knows, whenever one bothers to make a really GOOD and WELL-PLANNED sort of a plan, the world conspires against one to RUIN said plan in the most OBNOXIOUS and UPSETTING fashion possible.  Am I being melodramatic?  Sorry, my caps lock key is... stuck.

My day actually went like this:

07:15 - Mom wakes up my little sister for her band camp, waking me up in the process with her inconsiderate throwing open of curtains and turning off of fans and turning on of lights.  This is very rude and inconsiderate of her, as it is entirely possible to wake up said sister without bothering me excessively.  You may ask, “Claire, why is this such a big deal?  You were going to wake up at 7:30 anyway.  It’s only a 15-minute difference.”  If you are wondering this, talk to any high school or university student.  Fifteen minutes can be the difference between life and death.  No, seriously.  Fifteen extra minutes of sleep completely changes the course of your day and the mood in which you enter it.  Fifteen minutes of sleep, or the lack thereof, affects EVERYTHING.  Sorry, sorry, no more caps lock...  At any rate, there I was at 7:15, very grumpy because I was awake, and wanting nothing more than to roll over and snuggle back into my covers.  But it wasn’t early enough for me to be able to go back to sleep, so that plan was shot, and my mother wanted me to get up and ‘accomplish things.’  While I was accomplishing my mother’s agenda, it got to be...

10:00 - When I finally managed to start getting ready for my bike ride (which I was determined would happen despite the crappy start to my day).  Of course, I had to find my bike shorts, pump my tires, locate and fill a water bottle, and eat something, and since I am completely incapable of ever getting out the door in anything like a timely fashion, this took until...

10:25 - At which point I finally rolled my bike out the back door, and by which time it was uncomfortably hot and muggy (if you’ve ever lived in NoVa, you know how miserable it is in the summer).  Fortunately, bike riding often involves downhills, which directly and effectively combats the effects of the weather.  Still, just stepping outside had me drinking the air, which is not something I particularly enjoy.  I got on my bike nonetheless, and for the first 15-ish minutes, I had a lovely ride on one of my favorite trails.  But you already know that this is a transcript of a *bad* day, so it won’t surprise you that around about...

10:47 - I slid out on a corner on the wet pavement, turning the front wheel and headset around 180 degrees, knocking the chain off the cog, and snapping the bell off entirely, not to mention muddying up my ride, shorts, and brand new gloves, and scraping my shin and bruising my thigh thoroughly.  This sucked.  Actually, it still sucks, because my bruises still hurt A LOT.  By...

10:50 - I was back on my bike, handling it (and myself) very gingerly, thus defeating the purpose of bike riding (speed), covered in mud and blood and in a generally pissy mood on my way back home.  I got home around...

11:00 - When all I wanted to do was go take a bath in hydrogen peroxide and scrape the mud off my bike. But at...

11:03 - My mother called, wanting to know why I had only just gotten home from the bike ride that I’d told her I was going on at 8:30.  I told her, nicely, that I was covered in mud and blood (okay, so this is a bit of an exaggeration), and would call her back after I was cleaned up.  She wasn’t having that, despite its total validity and truthfulness, and insisted on keeping me on the phone to berate me for putting her on speaker phone whilst I washed the mud off my hand, and continued to tell me completely useless things that I already knew, such as that she’d really like it if I would vacuum (read: Why haven’t you vacuumed yet?!?!?!), despite my refrain of “The dirt in the cuts on my shin really stings; I’d like to call you back in 20 minutes, after I’ve showered and cleaned said cuts.”  Needless to say, this conversation amplified my pissiness by a magnitude of approximately 12.7, to the point where I was ready to rip off the head of the next person who got in my way.  Fortunately for my brother, he’s reasonably intelligent, and thus stayed out of my way.  So by...

11:10 - I was in the shower, which admittedly put me in a better mood, but then I remembered that at...

12:00 - I was supposed to leave to go pick up the boys I’m watching, who are 12 and 14, from band camp.  My aforementioned inability to get out the door anything like on time prevented this leaving business from actually occurring until...

12:13 - When I ran out the door, praying that I would make it to McLean High School to pick them up at least within five minutes of...

12:30 - Which saw me waiting at a stoplight, still fully six and a half minutes away, and muttering under my breath that people “need to learn to DRIVE, dammit!” in reaction to the idiots driving 25 in a 35 mph zone.  Yeah, so I wasn’t muttering, but I made it to the school by...

12:37 - And it still took me three minutes to find the boys in the crowd of parents, children, and their bass clarinets, tubas, and other absurdly large instruments (though I play tuba, so I can’t really talk...)

The play-by-play is taking way too long, and you’re probably not enjoying it much either, so I’ll cut the rest short.  Basically, these two boys I’m watching are family friends, I think, but the age difference and probably some other factors that I don’t know result in their tolerating each other and hanging out, but not being particularly good friends, so they argue a bunch and are generally just fairly obnoxious, and when they do bond, it’s over inappropriateness and general pre-teen/teen boy bad behavior, so they’re a pain in the butt.  Apparently while we were at the pool, the 14-year-old was having a completely inappropriate conversation with a couple of other boys there, in very loud voices, while surrounded by much younger children and their mothers.  The upshot was that the lifeguard had to pull them aside, and I was, of course, held partially responsible.  Naturally, this improved my mood so much (my sarcasm hand is raised).

When I got home, my cousin and aunt were at my house, having arrive about 20 minutes prior from New Jersey - more on that later - and I was really excited to see them, but instead, I had to go get my bike fitting for my new bike that just came in.  This is the part that’s related to getting ready for university, as my dad decided to get me a new bike before I leave.  I am actually really excited about this, since I love biking, and it’s quite a nice bike that I’m getting (my sarcasm hand is NOT raised).  Essentially, I have to ride it for at least 20 hours before I take it with me to school, so that the bike shop mechanics can check for cable stretch, etc, blah blah insert geeky bike tech stuff that you don’t want to read here blah.  So the timing was terrible, but once I reconciled myself to having to wait a couple of hours to hang out with my family, I was super-excited about going to get my bike.  Wait... something bad has to happen to dampen this absurd enthusiasm of mine!  Thus, I get there around 6:30 pm, in plenty of time to get my fitting, I might add, since we don't close until 8:00 pm, still have to put the pedals and seat on the bike, and the cleats on my shoes (these things are prerequisites to the fitting - don't ask), and by the time I've finished doing this, someone else was getting a fitting, and by the time they finished, it was 7:55, a.k.a. too late for me to get my fitting.  Hence, I mostly wasted 2.5 hours of quality cousin time -- I don't know when I'll next see these people; it could be years -- not getting my bike.  This was just the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae of misery that was my day.  (Exaggerated, food-related metaphors? Check.)

Okay, so that was a freaking long rant.  I'm sorry if I sound like a whiner-butt.  I don't normally do this, I promise!  If you come back in a few days, there will probably be something cool and college-related, plus pictures of the epic bruise I got from falling on my bike (since I can't access my camera right now to upload them, sorry!)  But meanwhile, you get a reward for sitting through my whining - a picture of...

THE BIKE I'M GETTING!!!

JUST LOOK AT IT.

Sorry - I'm a bit of a bike geek; I've been working at a bike shop (where I'm getting this bike) since May, and this is really exciting for me.

For anyone who cares, this is a Surly Long Haul Trucker, and this is how it looked when I went in to pick it up.  It doesn't come with pedals, so I got ones that are multi-purpose - platform on one side so I can hop on and ride with normal shoes any time (like to class), and clipless on the other side, to clip in to with my bike shoes if I'm going out for a longer ride.  These are actually called "campus" pedals.  I also got a women's specific gel road saddle (the stock saddle is pretty worthless) and a couple of water bottle cages (black to match the bike).  I'll take a picture of my actual bike, with everything on it, once I actually get it.  Meanwhile, if you actually care about bikes, and want to hear me wax poetic about it, message me or comment or something, because I could go on, and on, and on...

I'm listening to:  Dark Blue, by Jack's Mannequin (If you haven't seen the music video, check it out!)

I'm reading:  The Return of Sherlock Holmes, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

And here goes... something?

I've been inspired.  Or rather, I've been provided with material for inspiration - whether or not that inspiration will last, I cannot say - in the form of the blogs of two of my dear friends, which I discovered only last night.  Upon reading their delightful ramblings, I was struck by the thought that, "Hey, this is not a terrible idea," and decided to give it a shot, in the hopes that, a) I will develop something of a writing style and improve my writing in general (rumor has it these skills will be useful at university), and, b) I will correct or compensate for whatever defect has been either the cause or the result (not sure which) of my apparently-unsusual inability to keep any kind of a personal journal or diary.  Really, I don't write, other than school assignments and such, and people (my mother) have told me this is weird and that everyone writes and that it's probably emotionally unhealthy for me that I don't.  In theory, having an audience will encourage me to actually write on a regular basis.  That said, I don't know that I'll actually have an audience, but at least I can imagine I do, and as previously discussed, this will theoretically result in behaviors that are intrinsic in developing (what I consider) useful skills, and are considered by the general public and all kinds of emotional specialists (my mother) to be healthy. Or something.

Now that you have my motives, albeit in the convoluted and absurd form in which they appear in my head, the mission:  to document my literal and metaphorical journey to ***COLLEGE***.  Or university or whatever.  (Yes, that was anticlimactic.  I apologize.)  Whether or not anyone's actually reading this, the mission will give me a reason to write (thus fulfilling the goals from my motives).  As an added bonus, the mission will allow me an escape clause, i.e., if I discover that I despise blogging with a fiery passion, or that I'm sad because no one's reading my blog, or that it's sucking up too much time, at the end of my journey to college, I can stop and say, "I've accomplished what I came here to do, and I'm finished now, and there's nothing you can do about it.  Bwahahahahahah."  If nothing else, I'll end up with a documentation of what I feel is a fairly monumental portion of my life.  After all, is not documentation what the internet is all about?  Making all information available to all people by documenting it all in this all-consuming mass of all-ness?  (Did I use the word 'all' enough times in that sentence?)  Hmmmm.  Maybe, or maybe that's a completely ridiculous concept.  Anyways, it's my concept to throw about, and thus is yours to judge.  Let the judging commence.  Or don't, if you prefer -  you can just ponder if you'd like.  Or you can just ignore it, because really, I won't know if you do.  In any case, I thought I might as well add my stamp to this internet-beast whilst I accomplish the mission.  And now, I've mentioned the mission quite enough without actually saying anything about it, don't you think?

Unfortunately for you, this is just an introductory post, so you'll just have to wait for the next one (within the week?) to read about the phenomenally exciting adventures I'm having preparing for university.  You're just sitting on the edges of your chairs writhing in anticipation, aren't you?  I'm sure.  Until then, adieu.

I'm listening to:  Gustav Mahler's Symphony No. 9 in D major, performed by Bernard Haitink and the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra

I'm reading:  The Return of Sherlock Holmes, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle