More About My Life

So I know everyone who actually reads this lame excuse for a blog was sad to see that last week I did not actually continue with my life story, but instead opted for a Swine Flu informational memo. Good news though, I am about to continue with my life story, I do believe I left off in elementary school. When I started kindergarten is when my family and I moved to our permanent residence in Mondovi, WI. Not a big deal, it's just the most boring town... EVER! Elementary school wasn't that great for me, kinda boring, I didn't really have a lot of friends. I was a nerd, for example, I've been an avid Harry Potter fan since I was in the third grade. I got glasses in the forth grade. Just a loving year, that year. One kid told me he was going to call me bucket head once I got my braces since I'd have those and my glasses. Jerk. Another kid called me a "Little Nigger Midget." Every day, the entire year. My teacher told me "Nastassia, you can't come to me with every problem, get over it." When my mom eventually found out, she FLIPPED out on my her. She goes, "Oh, I didn't know it was like that!" (Bitch.) Anyway, I got a forced apology letter from this kid, and it was supposed to make everything right. Oh-kay, it only slightly scarred me for life. So... that is my elementary school experience. Joining the exciting population of Mondovi, exclusion for my nerdy-ness, and racist remarks from fellow classmates. How was your childhood? Stay tuned for middle school.

Swine Flu/ H1N1

Swine flu is a great experience that everyone should have the luck of going through. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had it this last week. Oh wait, I do know what I would have done had the misfortune of H1N1 not been dropped on me. I would have gone to class, done my homework, taken tests, gone to work, etc. H1N1 is a terrible time, involving sore throat, high fever, stuffy nose, runny nose, and the really terrible things like searing painful headaches, vomiting, dry heaving, lack of appetite, aching body, and the utter inability to gather the energy to do simple tasks like walking. I was at the mercy of my family, confined to the boredom of solitude. It took me seven excruciating days to rid myself of this horrid disease. Well I know it’s not exactly leprosy, but it felt like it at the time. Especially since my doctor quarantined me in Mondovi, which is an hour and a half from La Crosse where all of my schoolwork was located because I didn’t plan on getting swine flu and being stuck in Mondovi. Even worse, the day I went to the doctor and found out my grim fate, I was planning on going to a party to see all of my friends that I hadn’t seen since moving up here. All in all, it was a terrible week in the life of this Nastassia, but anyway, how was your week?

The Life Story of a Nastassia!

My partial life story will really start a little more than a year before I was born. So the year is 1989, and my (white) mother, Katie Sessions, has just graduated high school at the age of seventeen. She joins the army and has a smashing good time, until she gets married when she’s eighteen. (Not to say that marriage is a downfall for good times.) His name is Craig Fuller (he is black), and in 1991 I am welcomed to the world as Nastassia Isabella Fuller.
(F.Y.I. - I am mulatto.) One year, two months, and nine days later, (this was probably the greatest year, two months, and nine days of my life.) my sister Lizzy (Elizabeth Ashley Fuller) is born. (Yay, right?) Anyway, we were born in Fort Belvoir, Virginia, because my mom was still in the army. Pretty soon after that my mom moves us to Germany to live, which is where we are living when my mother wises up and kicks Craig out of our lives. (Really, Lizzy doesn’t ever hear from him again, but I get birthday cards till I turn seven, good riddance to bad rubbish.) They get divorced and he disappears, I really have no idea where he is to this day, neither do his parents.
We have some peace and quiet, until my mother meets a fellow serviceman, a cook, Jeffry Harris (he is black as well). JoAnn Denise Harris is born in Germany in 1995, my baby sister. When we move back to the states in 1996 my mother gets remarried. Lizzy and I were flower girls, we were so cute. Jeff ended up adopting us, so guess what, he’s my dad, not stepdad. Which is a cool and dandy since I’ve known him since I was a little girl living in Germany, anyway.
So this is my partial life story, I felt it needed to be told so people don’t ask me what my nationality is. If you missed it earlier, I AM MULATTO. (Not: Mexican, Korean, Asian, Native American, Latin American, Hmong, Hawaiian, Dominican, etc.) Stay tuned for next week when I unravel the partial life story of my elementary school days.

Working At Little Ceasar's

Working at Little Ceasar’s is a trip and a half. Sometimes it’s not so bad, but when it gets busy… I can’t even describe it. So picture you and your friends are out partying during the weekend. You get a little tipsy, or totally trashed out of your mind, and you and your friends are hungry. It’s one thirty in the morning and almost everywhere is closed, and the places that are open don’t take walkers through the drive through, (I.E.: Burger King). Guess what, Little Ceasar’s does take walkers. “Let’s all,” (and by let’s all I mean you and twenty other people you’re partying with), “Go to Little Ceasar’s and get some $5 pizzas!” So there are now twenty-one drunk people stumbling and yelling in various drunken stages in our parking lot. Excellent idea! There’s really nothing I love more than to be reminded that I can’t party because I’m working, by a whole bunch of drunken people demanding a lot of different pizzas and not making any sense. And I know it’s my job to give them what they want, but some people should be more courteous. For staying open and making pizza for a small price, they shouldn’t treat the workers the way they do. Besides the unruly customers, I don’t think people understand how hot it can get to be in there. We have an oven, taller than me, about five of me wide, and like seven of me long. It’s hot as hell in there, please excuse my language. So, maybe you’re thinking, “O.K., this really is not a big deal, she works at a pizza joint, rough.” But I really don’t care what you’re thinking; otherwise I’d be reading your blog as opposed to you reading mine. And now that I ended this rant, in what appears to be an insult, I shall bid you ado! (Ado!)

Burst My Bubble- Another Ranting of a Nastassia

I am now going to discuss my distress over people/family members telling me what to do. I especially get distressed since I am an adult (legally), or when someone is leading a full life as an adult and is still told what to do like a child. I'm not talking about giant decisions like cross-country moves or anything, but the little decisions like where you want to eat, what movie to go see, what to do in your spare time, or something trivial like smoking a cig. Or what college to go to that seems to be a big one with input from a lot of people. Now I understand that the examples I've given are kind of lame, however, the absolutely awesome example I had thought of was, quite honestly, forgotten by the time I got to this point in typing this blog entry and I didn't even think to write it down. There are harder decisions made for you that I am not mentioning, and maybe you are thinking of them now, but I'm not trying to get too deep into any teenage qualms. The fact that those decisions are not left to us is something that definitely bursts my bubble. I, for example, am 18 years old and think some decisions we make now (little ones mind you), are not going to change the whole imaginative course my life seems to be set upon. When does that certain maturity hit you, what age is it finally 'okay' to make your own decisions? And I'm not saying that everything told to me by older loved ones is wrong, but do I really need their input in everything? Can't they remember that they've had a hand in raising me for 18 years and shouldn't they trust that they raised me to be a responsible and trustworthy adult, one worthy to become a productive member of society? Maybe I'm being petty, and foolish, but that's how I feel about that. And if you were to read this, by all means, substitute your own age in place of mine, I'm sure this can't be the feeling of only one person, let alone one 18 year old. I hope you enjoyed reading my venting, stay tuned for a new episode next week! :D

Burst My Bubble- A Ranting and Opinion of a Nastassia!

Do you know what really bursts my bubble? No, of course you don’t, which is why I’m about to tell you. The laziness the human race is developing lately. You’d think that overtime, as technology advances, the human race would as well. In reality, we are all just becoming lazier, allowing these electronic instruments to do our work for us. For example, the English language as been adapted and changed many times, but now we just barely speak. We use some sort of a computer for all types of communication, like right now! I find a lot of this very lazy and rude. Even when using computers, or cell phones with texting, we don’t use full sentences. Now, don’t get me wrong, I definitely do not expect you to walk around saying things like thee, thy, or thou. I mean, how hard is it really, to use full sentences? Another irritating thing about communication that I dislike is when people answer a question with, not only a question, but the same question! Since when is “What’s up?” considered a conversation? Apparently, since people decided to reply “What’s up?” to “What’s up?” Take the time to socialize. We have all these advanced technologies for entertainment when we’re bored, but people don’t realize that talking to one another is a great way to entertain oneself without spending outrageous amounts of dollars. People can be really smart, when given the chance, and it’s a shame that they don’t use their brains for conversing with others. Now, I know a lot of you are probably thinking of someone you’ve heard speak, and are thinking that you wouldn’t give the time of day, but just forget about that person right now. I actually like having conversations with people and it’s hard to believe that someone would give up that time to rush off to be early to a class they don’t want to be in, or go to a job they hate. An actual conversation that uses full sentences really doesn’t take that much time, so spend a minute or two with someone. Ask them “What’s up?” and pay attention to what they say.