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20 January 2004 ~ January stories...

Since my last entry, the following events have occurred:

The Oil Change
Jake and I had his truck fixed at Jiffy Lube. It had been acting a little funny, and Jake thought maybe it needed an oil change. "Well," I asked, "how long has it been since your last oil change?"

"Well, it hasn't had one since before I bought it..."

"Um... and how many miles have you driven it?"

"About 40,000 or so... So, I guess it's probably due..."

"FORTY THOUSAND MILES??? WITHOUT AN OIL CHANGE?"

We ended up paying $400 to get the car in what the mechanics insisted was minimal working condition. At one point, they pulled a long, rubbery band out from under the hood, and were so impressed by it that they showed it around to each other and declared that they were going to keep it as a souvenir. This, they called the "fan belt," and it was split in two different places.

"So, with the fan belt like that, you don't think we'd make it down to San Fran?" I asked the mechanics. (This was my standard. I didn't want to have to pay for anything that wouldn't be essential for a car trip to San Fran.)

"With THIS," (He held up the fan belt, which really did look pretty fucked up.) "You wouldn't have even made it to Tacoma."

It should be noted that Tacoma is only about 20 or so miles away.

When the car was fixed, Jake spent at least the equivalent of an hour congratulating his truck on its ruggedness. I spent a similiar amount of time slapping him for never, ever fixing his damned truck.

The Rock at Aberdeen
Jake and I decided to throw obligations to the wind, and drive to Rochester, WA so that Jake could apply for a volunteer firefighter position. Well, okay. It was raining, and it was foggy, and everything had this weird, heavy-yet-light feeling to it. And I had a camera, and I'm presently sort of obsessed with taking pretty pictures of where I live. So, what the hell. We drove to Rochester. Rochester really isn't worth mentioning, because it's basically comprised of a gas station and a fire station. I guess the fire station is there in case the gas station burns down. The gas station is there to fuel the fire trucks, in case they need to put out the gas station in case it catches on fire.

Well, that was boring. So I said, "let's go to Aberdeen."

Aberdeen is one of the freakiest little cities I have EVER seen. Really, Aberdeen is where the jet stream sort of begins, and it LOOKS like it. You can actually feel this muggy, gross, "weathery" feeling in the air. It's also constantly dark and rainy. It looks like it's seven o'clock PM at ALL times of day. Real weird place. Nonetheless, I had an agenda. Jake told me that there's this rock in Aberdeen, right outside of Aberdeen High School, inscribed with a David Bowie quote: "And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultation; they're quite aware what they're going through." Back when I was an angsty high school student, I used to write that exact quote all over my notebooks and occasionally on a bathroom wall or two... This rock, Jake said, appeared to be sanctioned. I HAD to see it.

So, we saw the rock, and then we sneaked into the band room. Yeah, yeah, Kurt Cobain's old bandroom; for the record, the whole school is an absolute shithole, and probably isn't suited for storage, much less the education of our younger generation, and probably they're all going to want to grow up to play that rock-and-roll nonsense, and then they'll get hooked on heroin and have their evil blonde wives shoot them...

Anyway... Yeah. Then we went to my favorite part of Aberdeen: the pie place, Duffy's. There is no better pie in the world than Duffy's blackberry pie. It's simply impossible. This pie is the Platonic arete. This is where pies go when they die.

Following pie and a lengthy conversation (yeah, since when do Jake and I have the opportunity to talk to each other?), we drove home, but not without stopping to utilize a rest stop in ways rest stops simply should not be used. It was a lovely day.

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid...
In class yesterday, I was bending down to the floor to pick up a dropped gum wrapper, and in the process, I hit my head on the table. I swear, this Greek philosophy shit is making me dumber. I suppose I could make an argument for it making me clumsier, too. Anyway, when I got home yesterday night, sporting a large red lump on my forehead, Jake thought it was a massive zit, and prepared himself to pop it. (I'm aware of how disgusting that is, but we have a special sort of relationship...) I said: "NO! That lump is from me being stupid, not from me being greasy!"

Henceforth, that statement will be the motto of this entry. Just because I said so.

The Great Emancipator

My speech class is ridiculously boring. So far, at least. Last week, we spent three freaking hours having a seminar on a stupid book about Lincoln giving the Gettysburg Address ("Fourscore and seven years ago, our four fathers brought forth on this continent a steaming pile of stinking shit, blah, blah, whatever..."). So, the instructor went around the room, asking each person in turn what they made of this Gettysburg business. Okay, so, first of all, the speech is three fucking minutes long, and does not warrant a two-hundred page book about it. Neither does this two-hundred page book, about a three-minute speech, warrant three hours of discussion. Not in any way, shape, or form. Even if it did, who the fuck wants to be called on to give one's thoughts, one after the next person, like one is in second grade? This IS, after all, college...

Anyway, when my turn came around, I announced that Lincoln had not set a precendent for short speeches, or good speeches, or whatever. All he'd done was to set a precendent for historical revisionism by essentially lying to the American people who had experienced events and facts vastly different from those he was presenting.

The class was absolutely silent. I guess you just don't blaspheme Lincoln. Then somebody said, "wow." And somebody else said, "well spoken." And then they debated for ANOTHER hour about what the Civil War had really been about. During that time, I doodled. I don't get a day off for Lincoln's birthday, so I don't give a fuck, really.

Watch out, deer...

I got my Driving Learner's Permit today. It only took me one try to pass that damned test this time. And they're actually giving me a piece of paper saying I can drive with somebody else in the car. That's pretty exciting. I haven't had a learner's permit in years... And I let the old one expire because I supposed I'd never have a car. Maybe someday I will... Maybe. Anyway, I have a learner's permit now, and it's actually got a cute picture on it.

I'm tired... And I have to go to work. Oh yeah, and in between all the stuff that I mentioned above, I was reading, writing, or bitching about Plato. That's my life lately. It's not so bad, just tiring...

Okay, bye...
~Helena*