Expat Aid Workers

I came across this blog today called Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like.  The title is probably a joke on Stuff White People Like and talks about various humanitarian programs.
I've gotten skeptical about charities in the last six months or so.  I've been reading things about them that bothers me and have made some observations about others that I find appalling.  I was saddened, but not surprised, to read this tongue in cheek piece about how aid workers have to live away from the people who probably need the most help.       
I find this entire thing so depressing.  It makes me feel like even if I am compelled to do that right thing, by giving my time or money to an organization, it's being wasted. 

Moving

I had to move my stuff to Virginia's, who was kind enough to take me in after my previous plans fell through.  Because I didn't have a car, I had to carry everything myself.  It took me seven trips.  It was about a fifteen minute trip to walk there, and then fifteen minutes back.  And I had to pack inbetween.  So, obviously, it took me a long time.  
The good news was that I had a couple of suitcases on wheels, so I mostly wheeled stuff back and forth. 
There were sort of the normal annoyances with moving.  Getting the maximum space in your suitcases, for example.  But then, of course, you have to be careful not to pack too much because then you're moving it, and it'll get too heavy.
Virginia gave me a key to her place, and the second time I showed up (after she had left to go practice), I realized it was the wrong key.  I had to call her, and she came right over, apologizing a million times to me.  But really, I felt bad for having to call her.  She was working, and I don't like to interrupt people, even for something important like this. 
And after a while I got tired, and cranky.  My feet hurt.  I was sweaty and gross. 
I found myself getting angry about why my original plans fell through.  Mostly, it was a principal of the issue, and I vowed, as I heaved stuff to and fro, that I would have a short chat with this person about everything.  I tried to keep my anger from bubbling over, and I was certain if I just spoke to this person reasonable and did stuff like say "I feel..." and then filled in the blanks, they would apologize.  And if I could have an apology, I'd be fine. 
At the end of the day I was exhausted.  I skipped dinner because I was too tired.  I took a shower at Virginia's, who had showers I wasn't used to.  The ground was weirdly sloop like and I got my shower bag, filled with my shampoo and whatnot, wet, because there was nowhere good to put it.  But once I got clean I felt better. 
Virginia let me sleep in Jane's bed, who is apparently never home anyway because she's always hanging with her boyfriend.  Jane's bed might be the best bed I have ever slept in.  It has gigantic covers and the mattress is weirdly soft, and everything is warm fleece.  I was so tired that I didn't struggle to sleep at all.  And it felt so good to lay down. 
Later on, Paul asked me why I didn't just ask for help, and I told him that I felt bad about making everyone else responsible for my stuff.  I think the easier way would have been now to say I didn't want to be a bother. 

Women Have to Stick Together

I had dinner with Ruth.  She's been off on some socializing stuff, and she told me about how she was at a casino, and a stripper offered her a free lap dance. 
"Male or female?" I asked.  Devil's in the details. 
Lavvy was there, and she awkwardly gulped her food.  Claire started laughing.  "That was brilliant!"
"Female," Ruth asked, ignoring the whole Lavvy/Claire thing.  "There was this creepy man on the other side of the room."
"Oh," I see, I said.  "She was trying to get away from him, and you offered her temporary shelter?"
"Something like that," Ruth said.
Good for her. 

Tokens

I went to a party.  We played this token game.  Basically, there was a massive pile of tokens and you got to take so many for each thing. 
For example, Faith would read "take one token if you made your bed today."  Obviously, as my form of making the bed is making sure the blankets are all on top, I didn't take a token. 
It was pretty fun.  Claire took all sorts of tokens that she wasn't meant to, including the end, where you got to take a token for not cheating.  Hayley, Ruth's roommate, came, and it was the first time I had ever spent lots of time with her.  Lavvy came a little late, but we let her play too. 
I didn't get to take too many tokens myself, but I was triumphant when one of them was "take four tokens if you went to church today."  One of the few times being religious in my group of friends as panned out. 
Mimi was being especially annoying during the game.  She kept interrupting Faith, and finally, putting on her best authority voice, told Mimi she was making the decisions.  All of my friends, clustered around a table, roared with laughter. 
I told all of them about my idea of having a garage sale type thing.  I was thinking it could be more like a table sale, where everyone sold the stuff they didn't need anymore. 

Working Women

At work two days ago, a man came in looking for a product that my Grandfather used to love.  My Grandfather has been dead for many years now, and hearing this man talk about, who was also almost certainly a Grandfather himself, made me strangely sad. 
I don't think about my Grandfather too often, and usually when I do, it's not in a way that affects my mood. 
It makes me so happy when people in the store are happy or nice to me.  Yesterday, a woman named Jenny came in who gushed over our stuff, telling me how much she liked it.  She talked my ear off about her life, telling me about her sons in their late twenties and what they like to drink and mentioning that her husband has cancer.  She told me all sorts of things that I never knew. 
I'm not sure why, but I relate well to random older women.  Everyone talks about age gaps and generational differences, and I'm sure there are some, but the only people I consistently feel that with are my parents.  Otherwise, I've had plenty of opportunities over the years to do things like giggle over how much we like Keeping Up Appearances or beans on toast or chatting about creative writing.  I like old ladies, which makes me confident that one day I'm going to be a great old lady. 
I told Jenny she should considering working there, since we're hiring.  At first she was like "Oh, no," and then I could see the idea forming in the back of her mind, like watching a flower bloom in real time.  I suspect she probably will consider it, and if she does work there, I'll be happy for the coworker.  
In other work news, I came in yesterday to find Ashley at the counter (which we're not suppose to do unless we're doing something that specifically has to be done behind the counter) reading a book (which I've never heard anyone say we couldn't do, but I've never heard anyone say we could.)  I decided not to comment on the book situation, because it's not my business and because I probably wouldn't want Ashley telling me how to do my job. 
Right before she left, Ashley turned to me.  "Don't you have a book?"
I did, actually, in my purse, but that's because I try not to go anywhere now without carrying some reading material along.  But I didn't want to get it out and I sort of skirted around it. 
"There's nothing else to do," she commented.  "We can't clean anymore and all the stock's out."
That was true, though I managed to find stuff to do.  I flipped over a puzzle and made in upside down, which was challenging, but I managed to muddle through it after two hours.  And then, after that, I worked on replacing a few extra things sitting in back by putting them on the shelves.  It didn't even occur to me to get a book. 

Channel Surfing

School is starting again for everyone else, and so my Mom, Dad and I had to move a bunch of stuff in to the townhouse my sister's living in this year.  I was a little annoyed, since my sister didn't actually come this trip to move stuff.  She had to study, which also apparently including going out with her friends to a festival.
After I did some small things around the house, my Mom told me there wasn't anything else to do, so I was stuck there.  So I ended up watching tv, something I don't usually just do.  I have my shows that I'm crazy about, and that's what I watch, but I don't channel surf too often. 
I ended up on Criminal Minds, which I've decided (after about four episodes,) I like.  I like mysteries and police procedurals, and obviously have watched a lot of Law and Order, so this isn't surprising.

Also unsurprising: I'm enamored of Dr. Reid.  I don't usually think of myself as having a type, other than to say I love a smart man.  And Dr. Reid has all sorts of degrees and a mind that solves puzzles.  Hot.  Also, he's all dark and broody because he's afraid his mind is potentially dangerous.  So, basically, nerd plus Angel.  Love it.  Oh, and did I mention he has fabulous hair? 

Speaking of great minds: Bazinga, I am in love with Dr. Sheldon Cooper, PhD.  I really don't need to watch anymore tv, but I made the mistake of coming across the fanfiction, and, actually, yes, I prefer the fanfiction to the actual show.  There's something very mean spirited about the show.  None of the male characters seem to like each other that much, they just sort of tolerate one another.  And so much of the humor on the show is "Tee-hee!  These guys are nerds!  They have no self-awareness!"  Oh, and I'm annoyed that the one female character's a moron.  I hang out with a lot of nerds (sorry, guys, it's true), and much of the interactions ring false.  I guess I can't expect these guys to come off as charming and ultimately family-like to one another the want all my nerd friends do. 
But Sheldon himself is intriguing and bizarrely charming.  His accent, which I've honestly never heard, directly subverts the stereotypes about nerds.  And he is unabashedly himself, which I find admirable in a world where everyone's trying to sell themselves all the time. 
Fangirling it up sort of makes up for what I really wanted to do that day which was 1.) Go to a concert or 2.) Sleep.  (In that order.)  My Mom reminded me that my sister helped me move out, but that's not the same as I asked her not to come and was actually there for it.

The Puzzle Lady

Went to visit my Grandma today to babysit. My Mom has been spending all her free time with her, which means that I'm on duty when my Mom is working.
My Grandma is often referred to at her nursing home as "The Puzzle Lady." Like most nursing homes, there is a puzzle always sitting out on a particular table. My Grandma likes to sit there and, in addition to putting the puzzle together, people watch.
My Grandma's people watching is one of the many ways that I find myself thinking about how similiar the two of us are. I love people watching. Never feel bad about leaving me alone in a public place with lots of people, like say, the caf at school. I like watching people. They're fascinating.
So, for part of today, my Grandma, sister and I worked on the puzzle. Right now, it's a picture of eggs elaborately decorated. Possibly they are suppose to be those fancy Russian eggs that the Romanovs were into as serfs starved. Anyway, I had a decent puzzle day. I put together a fair amount of pieces. Sweet.
There's really not much to do when hanging with my Grandma, but I try to keep myself entertained. I played some solitare. Read a little. Texted with my friends Philip and Ashley. Talked to my Uncle on the phone. Watched Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Laid down for a little. Like I said, not much to do.
In a little while, I'm going to walk my Grandma down to dinner. I was hoping to have an exciting Friday night planned, but it looks like I've got to be an adult and get some stuff together for a possible job. Bah.

Ballbuster

Update today on Grandma: Turns out when we went to see her this afternoon, she didn't go to therapy. That's the entire point of being there. She was in her pajamas, asleep in a chair. My Mom made her change and marched her down there and made her do stuff.
Her therapist is really nice. My Mom mentioned that I had just graduated. "High school?" she asked.
Damn, if only. "No, I just finished up at Michigan State."
I have maintained for a long time that I look younger than I am. When I was in the seventh grade, one nasty piece-of-work eighth grader asked me if I was seven. Even now, I think I easily pass for much younger. When I mentioned this once to Dan, he disagreed with me (in a rare change up for him, it was one of the least diplomatic things he's ever said to me. International relations could use someone like him.) But ha, I'm right, case closed. Even a therapist says so.
But I digress. What's really heartbreaking is how my Grandma has basically given up the will to live. She doesn't want to do anything anymore, even the simple important stuff, like combing your hair or eating or walking. She fought with the therapist the entire time about walking with a walker and using a bike to exercise. At one point, she put her head down and cried. I've never seen her cry. Even when her husband died, her reaction was to be a pain in everyone's ass, take cold medication, harass her godson about his hair follicle situation and yell at her husband's corpse every chance she got.
The therapist asked what she was like when she was younger. "A ballbuster," I thought. I remember her being really harsh, and supposedly, I was a favorite and she softened as she got older. I can only imagine how difficult she was when she was at her prime.
I realized in October that this is one of the few good things about her dementia: it's erased ninety percent of her personality. She's still difficult sometimes, but in sort of a passive way. She just doesn't do whatever you asked her to do, but if you try to have a conversation with her, she'll sort of just tell you what you want to hear and keep on doing whatever. Before, she'd yell and carry on and actively try to make things harder on you. The whole passive thing is frustrating in its own way, but at least you don't get sworn at. In more than one language.
I find myself really annoyed with this whole thing, and then I feel bad because I've done pretty much nothing to help. Not because I didn't want to, mind, but because I was up at school dealing with at least seven other problems, most of them interpersonal. Which is also why I feel guilty about living at home again. I feel like my Mom would really appreciate me not being a layabout. If I was gone, she could at least delude herself into thinking I was being successful.
Also, my Grandma has a roommate at this place, and she irks me even more. The woman plays her tv SO LOUD. Like, it even gives me a headache, and I'm not the kind for headaches and am one of those teenagers who blasted their ears with the likes of Nirvana, AFI, and Alkaline Trio. The hell if I can hear. I would like to read my science book in peace without being distracted by some irritating design show about people with stupid condos who are way overpriced.