Oct 24

I was going to actually update and type something…

But then I realized it was 1:30 in the morning, I have to get up at 6:30, and I’m too chicken to say what I was gonna say anyways.

Stupid…. me.

Apr 06


It is bad for me to be this stressed. Because when I get this stressed, I stop caring about the quality of my assignments. So long as I get it done, and that even becomes a major chore. I just have so much shit to do….. It just feels impossible.

This is why I needed a break after high school. Hopefully, my break over the summer (which still consists of one or two classes) will suffice. I dunno if I can do this for another whole year without a good break. Maybe I’ll even request to work afternoons over the summer so I can still sleep in….

But that won’t happen in the real world, which is what I’m supposed to be adjusting to, right? I’m gonna miss that…


Feb 19


Setting aside my current goal to lose some extra baggage, my body really annoys me sometimes. It’s not an image thing, it’s a clothes thing.

See, I have big boobs. Ridiculously big boobs. And a small ribcage (aka, I’m not fat). This makes finding a bra that fits comparable to climbing Mount Everest with a broken leg.

As if that wasn’t hard enough, I have a hard time finding tops, and an even harder time finding dresses. I basically can’t wear anything with a bustline, because it always ends up on my boobs instead of under them, making almost everything look like a mu-mu, and making me look like I’m a LOT fatter and less attractive than I actually am. This is painful, because I want nothing more than to have a bunch of those long flowy summer/beach dresses, but none of them work for me.

Moving from my breasts, and straight down to my feet. Unfortunately, I was gifted with narrow feet. I don’t know how many of you have actually seen narrow sizes in common shoe stores (AKA, the ones I can afford to shop at), but I can bet hard cash probably not very many. I know I haven’t. And I look.

LUCKILY my feet aren’t INCREDIBLY narrow, and so they don’t affect my ability to find tennis shoes that fit. However, I have a very particular order to fill for high heeled shoes. Part of it is me not liking peep-toes, and the other part is that what fits me isn’t in style very often (Even though I think they’re cute as hell). I have to find high heel shoes that are closed-toed AND have a strap over the bridge of the foot. Sounds simple enough, right? Apparently not. Even so, I manage to find a pair every few years that fits my bill and my feet, and I don’t wear high heels very often, so they don’t wear out very quickly.

However, I’ve really been looking for a pair of cute flats. Today, I realized that if I ever want a pair of flats, I’m going to have to go online or try to find some specialty store here in Corpus ($$$$! :(). All the ones I can find slip right off my heel, even though they fit from heel to toe.

Really, I think I could have dealt with one body part that’s hard to shop for, but this is ridiculous.

Just needed to vent, now I have to go write an actual paper…


Edit: I know I can find narrow sizes online, but after being repeatedly disappointed all day, I could only bear to look through one site with nothing I even remotely liked before I gave up. Another time, perhaps…

Dec 02

Something weird

You know something weird I’ve noticed in my work in a retail dressing room?

Occasionally, someone will takes in two items to try on, but they’ll be EXACTLY the same item in EXACTLY the same size. What’s with that? Seriously, I’m curious. It doesn’t happen very often, but often enough that I know it’s not just a fluke. srsly weird.

In other news, FINALS ARE COMING and then BREAK WOOT

Next week, I get to go volunteer at the Deaf Center to set up for Signing Santa, which is next weekend. I’m excited because I love volunteering there, but I’m kind of worried I won’t enjoy it much since I can only do it after work… maybe they’ll have some nice sit-down projects I can do. lol

Now, instead of writing one of the papers I need to write, I’m gonna get on ancestry.com and work on my family tree.


<3 Rachel

Nov 26


The biggest lesson I learned this Thanksgiving is this.

Chocolate chips + heat ≠ melted chocolate

In fact, there is a whole other ingredient that goes unmentioned when the recipe you are using is vegan and the chocolate chips you are using are not: Butter.

Now, anyone who bakes on any kind of regular basis probably already knew this. I do not bake on any kind of regular basis. The recipe simply said: In a double broiler, melt chocolate chips.

Things started out ok, despite the fact that there isn’t an actual double broiler in my house, and I had to make do holding one pan of chocolate in another pan of boiling water (which wasn’t very much fun, because the oven was also on and it was already quite warm in the house because it was just nice enough to have the windows open instead of the air conditioner and besides we had also been cleaning and didn’t want the whole house to smell like cleaning products *takes deep breath*) but I had to actually hold the pan, because if I let go, the water would overflow into the chocolate. I kinda guessed that wouldn’t end too well, so I avoided that.

So chocolate + heat = WHY AREN’T YOU DOING ANYTHING?!?!

Yeah, the chocolate melted. Sorta. It turned into this globby mass instead of individual chocolate chips, but after it remaining in this state for what seemed like an hour (was probably more like 5 or 10 minutes), it was still just a globby mass that was really hard to stir and looked absolutely nothing like the smooth, creamy chocolate you see on TV when they do a tour of a chocolate factory or what have you. Not to mention, at some point near the beginning of the process, a piece of chocolate managed to escape its (comparatively) comfy demise of being cozily melted with all of it’s friends and decided instead that it would much rather make a run for it, miss, and instead stick to the burner and eventually catch on fire. I, wearing my oven mitt and holding a pan, was pretty much powerless to do anything except blow it out (it was no bigger than a candle flame, but very smelly. Burning chocolate, like most burning things does not smell very pleasant). When it kept happening, I tried to call my boyfriend to come get a spoon or something to remove the chocolate from the burner, but for some reason, no one could hear me (which I thought was weird. Our apartment is pretty small, and none of the doors were closed, and no one was playing music, at least not very loudly). He eventually came and moved it and it stopped catching on fire, but unfortunately, it still smelled.

So after 10 minutes of globby mess, I tried to call my consult, Brandi. She apparently also had a hard time hearing me and I had to call several times, but finally came and asked if I was “sure it didn’t ask for butter?”

I showed her the recipe, which called for vegan chocolate chips. I, of course, had known this, but had NOT known that melting them would be any different from melting regular chocolate. What about vegan equality? They should have to put just as many ingredients in their pies as we do! lol

She grabbed a half stick of butter from the fridge and dumped it into the chocolate, which immediately began to turn into the smooth, liquidy chocolate I’m more familiar with.

Anywho, that’s all about how I learned that melting chocolate requires butter.



Nov 20

jaynies-secrets said: Whats your biggest fantasy, any way?

Sexual, of course.

Off the top of my head: I would like to get fucked in a public place, but where I wouldn’t get in trouble. Really hot sex, too. Also, sorry it took me such a ridiculously long time to answer this. <3

Nov 20


So I woke up today, and suddenly I knew what the one thing that separates humans from animals is. Things.

Humans have stuff. We need it. I was thinking about Brandi’s whole spiel with only having 100 possessions. But even then, that’s 100 more possessions than any animal ever had, the only possible exception might be animals like squirrels who hide food, but even then, they don’t really posses it. They don’t carry it around with them.

Riding the bus has made me very conscious of what I carry around, because it means I have to commit to carry all of it around ALL DAY. I can’t just leave it in my car when I don’t need it, like so many people with cars do. If I decide to take an umbrella because it’s cloudy, I then have to carry around that umbrella all day, regardless of whether or not it clears up.

Some of us might find it simple enough to leave the house carrying nothing. No keys, no wallet, id, money, no phone (I won’t count clothes for simplicities sake, but if you live on a nude ranch, more power to you!).

When I leave the house, the bare minimum I might carry consists of:

Clothes (bra, underwear, sock, pants, shirt)


Wallet (containing a number of discount cards, coupons, credit cards, cash, several forms of i.d., and pictures of family and friends)

This is a short list compared to what I carry when I also take my purse, but this is just the minimum. But it doesn’t stop there. When we leave the house, we choose what to take with us….. from our entire house full of a million other things. We surround ourselves with things. To make a list of everything in my house right now would be a week-long project, given about two-thirds of it does not actually belong to me, but my housemates and I do share a lot of things, like shampoo, dishes, etc. Anyways, it would still be a monumental task to take an inventory of everything. I mean, even just thinking about documenting my closet makes me cringe. How is it that we think we need so many things, when every other species in the world keeps nothing?

This is a question I would love to hear some answers on. I can’t fathom when we decided we needed so much stuff.

Anyways, in other news, I haven’t updated in forever. This is because I’ve been tooooo busy with school and work. I have had some time lately, but I haven’t used it for blogging, apparently. lol I’m currently watching Chuck play Farcry and very much enjoying my Saturday off, which I haven’t had in a long time.

Onto playing some sort of game or other!



Oct 13

jaynies-secrets said: what secrets do you have?

I know you asked these a really long time ago, and I got them a long time ago, and I’ve been trying to think of worthy answers, or any answers really.

Really, I don’t have anything I would call a secret. Given the opportunity, I basically talk about anything. I don’t think there’s anything that’s ever happened to me that I haven’t told someone about.

But here’s one I just thought of: Deep down, I’m terrified that I’m actually a racist. It’s silly, but I am.

Oct 04


Next semester, I have to take a Deaf Culture class. One of my friends has already taken it. I know there’s an assignment where we have to wear ear plugs for a certain amount of time outside the classroom, out in daily life to get a taste of being hard or hearing (I don’t think it’s practical for a hearing person to practice deafness…) and record our observations in a journal to be turned in.

My only thought on this pending assignment is this:

I already do this on a daily basis. Almost anytime I’m anywhere except at home, in class, or at work, I’m listening to music. Yes, I am listening to something, but everything outside myself is greatly muffled and incoherent. I let myself rely on my other senses to gather what’s going on around me. I watch, feel, and smell (being a bus rider, that last one is usually not a nice sensation).

So when I have this assignment to wear these ear plugs, I’m afraid of not really having any new observations. It’s something I feel like I already experience all the time, by choice. Not that I crave to be deaf, but I would rather listen to my music than to people on the bus, or the announcements in the store, or the people honking at me on the street. There are better things to listen to. Silence is one of them. Sometimes, I don’t even play anything through my headphones. I just stick them in, and walk around.

In other news, I had a dream last night (the stuff in parentheses are comments IRL). In my dream, I woke up next to Chuck and really wanted to go to the grocery store. However, it was Sunday, and this meant that it was more difficult than usual to get to one. So I decided to walk. Just got outta bed, grabbed a shopping bag and left. I walked toward the highway (Staples Street) and walked right across it (It’s Sunday. Nobody drives on Sunday). I was now standing under the Ayers St. Shopping Center sign (this sign is visible from the highway, and it’s how I orient myself. Since I ride the bus, I’m never on the highways, and therefore, they confuse me. But when I’m riding with someone else, I often see things that I also see on the bus, and they clue me in to where the balls I am in this town. This sign is one of the more notable ones). There was a Church’s Chicken, which was closed, and then BAM! An HEB. A little one (like the one we see on the way to Port Aransas, strictly Food and Drugs) and I went inside, practically giddy to find we lived almost next door to a grocery store (for once). I walked into the little atrium, you know, where they park all the shopping carts, and all the lights in the whole store were dimmed. I was kinda like “wtf”, and then a guy walked buy with an apron on.

"Hey, are you open?" I asked.

"Yeah." He responded with a kind of "why do you ask?" tone.

"I see. I just asked cause all the lights were off…"

"OH!" he said. "I’m Mongolian, I was just practicing for the Waiting Room, you know, where we wait for God."

"Oh, yeah," I sympathized, "It gets pretty dark in there."

(My conscious mind stirred and was like “wtf is this asshole talking about? Fucking Mongolians…”)

He flips the lights on, and I walk in to the produce section. A good friend from my classes is standing there in a Flapper dress with a pink coat hanger on her head, examining pears. (Again, my conscious mind giggles). She spots me, which is no surprise seeing as we’re standing about 10 feet apart, and she’s facing me.

"Hey, Rachel! I was just showing these *indicates pears* to my friend! Hey *friend*, come over here!"

I wave and walk away aimlessly. This store is a little smaller than the Aldi’s I visited while in Fort Worth. Just a couple aisles. I find the one that has cookies, still not looking for anything in particular. With the rest of the Pepperidge Farm cookies, right next to the Milanos are packages labeled “Bleeding Milanos.” A couple of old ladies walk by me in the opposite direction.

"Oh, those must be for the Waiting Room!"

I think to myself “Oh of course. Duh.”

I buy nothing and go home. I’m suddenly back in bed with Chuck, trying to tell his sleepy butt that we live right next to an HEB. I decide to go back again.

I cross the high way, and this time, some tourists who are walking down the highway ask me where a grocery store is. I tell them that it’s literally right there and I’m going there now. They seem suddenly uninterested and keep walking down the highway. Or maybe they were in an invisible car. I don’t remember.

I get there again and walk around towards the back wall. There’s a huge painting leaning against it. One of my charges from my section leader days, Seth, is standing there, staring at it. I’m aware that he sees me, but he doesn’t say anything and keeps staring at the painting. Me in my non-confrontational way just turn the corner without looking at the painting. But two of my classmates from ASL I (I don’t remember who exactly) are making a bee-line for the painting. They, like Seth, are aware of my existence in their general vicinity, but also don’t acknowledge me. This doesn’t seem to effect my subconscious mind, and I go back to the front, where they have more racks of clothes than a grocery store should have.

(I’ve been thinking of going shopping for some more shirts for work. I only have 4. One of them is too small, and the other one is losing hems left and right, even though I just bought it a month ago… stupid China.)

I’m looking through these shirts, and find a long sleeved, off-white collared shirt, with little ruffles all over it. I think to myself how cute it is (it’s the ugliest shirt I’ve ever seen) when a lady pulls her cart up next to me.

"Oh, isn’t that cute!" She says.

"Yeah," I reply. "I was thinking about buying it for work."

She takes the shirt from me. I’m a little hesitant, but I see another one that was behind it on the rack, so I let her take it with no resistance. I keep looking, and after she’s puttered away, I go back to pick up the twin shirt, which was not a twin at all, but a blousy shirt with no sleeves and lots more ruffles.

"That little bitch!"

And then I wake up, go to the bathroom, and try to tell Chuck’s sleepy butt about my dream.

Bed time


Sep 30

I feel so… superhuman.

So I just got back from sushi and beach.

Sushi was awesome.

You know what’s more awesome than sushi?

Bio-luminescent jellyfish.

You know why?

Cause when they die off, they apparently release all of their glowyness into the water.

This means that when you touch the water.


It’s incredible!!!! OMG so much fun.

We threw rocks.

We picked up the dying little jellies and petted them and they were all blinky.

D and Brandi were brave enough to wade around in the water. Everytime the water moved, pretty much, it glowed blueeeeeee.

It was so pretty. And so incredible. And so much fun. OMG

So I’ve been playing with glowy water for the past hour. Currently taking bets on what kind of super-power I’ll wake up with….