What if? Fuck what if. Just fuck it.

Two posts in one day, I know. Weird. And I am sorry I have been absent, but, dude, life is a tad crazy right now. And by a tad, I mean, HOLY FUCK BALLS. And it is about to get worse. Which is just not the reason for posting this second blog post.

I am scared. My back has been spasming and I have been in a perpetual state of non-bend for a few days. I am scared to bend over or pick anything up or do anything at all other than be scared. It's not bad, comparatively speaking, it is practically nothing. But, this is how it started. Bad days here and there. Until one day I trip over the dog and end up in the hospital.

What if I end up there again?

What if I have to quit school?

What if I really can't do this?

What if it was wishful thinking to hope that one day I could be a chef, knowing the problems I have with my back?

What if I uprooted my life only to fail?

It is very typical of me to give up in times like these. To just say, fuck it. I will fail, I will never make it, fuck it. But, not this time. I don't want to give up and fighting that instinct is getting harder. I put all my eggs in one basket, cryogenically sealed that basket, and then sent it to the moon. There is no going back.

What if one day I wake up and can't walk again? What if one day I end up in the hospital with a doctor telling me surgery is the only option? What if a doctor tells me that I physically can never be a chef?

I hope this passes. I hope with every ounce of my being that I wake up tomorrow and feel better. But, what if?

Fuck what if.

This whole situation makes me want to drink and swear.

I am not a parent, nor do I believe I am qualified to criticize how people parent their children. I am not dealing with the child here and do not know the circumstances that have caused this person to be the way that they are. I am writing this out of both frustration and pity.

I go to school with a girl, we'll call her cupcake, that is completely incapable of thinking for herself or taking care of herself in general. She will be 21 in October. I will give examples.

We were at a restaurant for lunch and she didn't leave a tip. When I confronted her about this, she simply stated that they only gave her a five dollar bill back. I pointed out to her that seconds later she had been complaining about all the change in her pocket. She was visibly irritated that I brought this up and repeatedly said she didn't understand why she needed to leave a tip. This was not someone who didn't believe that waitresses deserved being tipped. She literally did not know or understand that this was something done in our society.

We have to clean our kitchens after every class so that the next class does not have to cook in our filth. The ONLY thing she has ever done is dry and put away dishes. A fellow classmate confronted her about this and asked her to mop. She started crying and begged one of the other guys to do it because she was having a bad day and didn't know how to mop. MOP.

She pretty much develops a crush on anyone who will talk to her. Man or woman. I have asked her repeatedly (especially when she liked one of our female classmates) what attracts her to these people and she always states that they are nice to her. If we try to talk to her about sex, she blushes and whines until we stop. I don't know how much justice I am giving this. I truly do not believe that she understands what sex is, how people have it, what physical attraction is, etc. One of the crushes she got, she confessed to this person because he continued to flirt with her, even after we told him it was cruel to continue this way. He finally ended it by telling her that he didn't want to date her because if he fucked the shit out of her, it would be awkward the next day. She thought he was being mean and snapping at her. I was like, no, he is saying if you two had sex, it would be awkward and you have to see each other everyday. She was like, well, that is just mean. I stared at her, gaping, for, like, ever.

She gets visibly upset when you joke around with her, as if she doesn't understand. She flinches every time I say fuck. Which, you know, is a lot. I got her to say fuck once, and she blushed and ran away after she did it.

She is obsessed with Twilight and Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber and ABC Family and throws end of term pool parties. POOL. PARTIES. With no alcohol. She has never touched alcohol.

She doesn't have her driver's license because she can't figure out how to pass the maneuverability part of the test.

She has a learning disability that she uses as a crutch to get sympathy from people.

She is incapable of making a single decision for herself. I mean, it cripples her.

Here is my thing. OK, her parents raised a good little catholic girl, I will give them that. But, they also raised someone who is completely incapable of making it on their own. She claims to want to be a baker, so I thought I would see a difference in bakeshop. Nothing. Nada. She decorated a cake that looked like a smurf vomited. She follows everyone around asking what she should do and was less competent as a baker than as a cook. Which, just, wow.

At what point does a parent look back and go, fuck. I have royally screwed this kid up. I mean, I cannot see a way that she will ever make it anywhere. I have worked a variety of jobs and I do not believe she is capable of any of them. And not because of the learning disability, which she refuses to define. Because, I don't see that ever, except maybe with math and spelling.

She reminds of a 12 year old forced into a 20 year old body. And we all are so nice to her and try so hard to help her, but it is frustrating. Beyond frustrating. How do you get here? I mean, how does cupcake get through her day to day life? She has never had a job. When she graduated high school, I have no idea what she did with those two years. She still goes to all the high school football games.

I just, I don't know. I know I am jaded and angry and inappropriate and many other things, but are there other adults out there like this? I mean, do any of you know anyone like this? How do they make it in life? Does someone just eventually sit them down and be like, look, here's some porn, let's talk in an hour? Or maybe just slap them silly?

THE GIRL KEEPS INVITING ME TO SLEEPOVERS.

Please send help. I am trapped in "The Baby-Sitter's Club." Except cleaner and with less adventure.

Maybe too much information about my English class. Also? Supreme ruler of the world.

Today I rolled out of bed ten minutes late, which, let's be honest, is 20 minutes later than I should have pried myself from bed. I walked into class the minute that it started. This is typical for me. I do not like being late, I like being ridiculously on time. I am notorious for running to class to make it there at exactly 9:40, half asleep and in need of massive amounts of caffeine.

We had to fill out some financial aid bullshit, which I finished remarkably fast because of some apparent ability to remember a 4-digit pin. Let's not even get into the fact that I was the only person who remembered it. Four. Digit. Pin. Anywho...I walked back into our English class first, by a landslide. I had an exam in Purchasing, so I got out my notes and started to read over them.

English Teacher (ET): "I really enjoy reading your papers. You have a very unique voice, you are funny without intentionally being so."

Erratic: "Oh, thanks. I really enjoy writing."

ET: "I read a lot of papers, and I really have to say, I think you have a lot of promise as a writer."

Erratic: (blushing) "Thanks. Most of the time I don't think people get my writing style. I write the way I think and it is lost on people who don't know me."

ET: "To the contrary, I think that it intrigues people who don't know you. I read your last paper first, because I couldn't wait to read it."

Erratic: "Uh. Um. Thanks? I mean, I have a blog. I write on that. I mean, not well, but I like to write. Stuff. Uh. Thanks."

And the conversation continued like this for about 10 minutes. It was ridiculously awkward and surprisingly flattering. I love to write, I really do. I don't think I do it well here. I think sometimes I do, but mostly I use this as my personal sounding board, which is, I don't know. Not the reason I started a blog.

This is the paper I wrote when asked to write a one page paper on being a super hero for a week.

In my mind, I soar through the sky, watching everyone below as they go about their day. I have dreams of fighting crime; foiling bank robberies, plucking murderers from the street; helping the elderly cross the road. I will stop trains from derailing and save babies from baths that are too hot. The world will be a perfect place with Superwoman watching out for all of humanity, even if it is just for a week.

As I soar towards the clouds, I feel my heart seize in my chest. Panic spreading like wild fire from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. My breath catches in my throat as I slowly descended towards the ground. Acrophobia. This will not do.

Super human speed is the power for me. I will fly through the streets using my heightened senses to know when crimes are being committed, to hear the screams of women being mugged, the angry threats of domestic violence, the squealing of impending car accidents. In fact, I hear something just a few blocks away. I take off, bravery in my heart, when my stomach lurches. Sweat beading on my brow as my lunch turns on me. Kinetosis. Being a super hero is hard.

If I can’t fly and I can’t run faster than a speeding bullet, I suppose that X-Ray vision is the only way to go. I will simply see the crimes and call the police, who can stop the criminals in their tracks. That’s the solution. And if any criminal gets away, I will simply use my eidetic memory to help the sketch artist draw their likeness. Crime doesn't stand a chance against me. As I start scanning the buildings around me, I feel my eyes getting wider and wider. Voyeurism, it seems, is not for me either.

My first hour as a super hero hasn't gone that well, but certainly I will get the hang of it over the next week. Maybe I can find a moving company that is hiring.

So, here is my question...am I pushing it to write my persuasion paper (sarcastically of course) on why I should be the supreme ruler of the world?

Stab. Stab. STAB. STAB. STAB.

So, I don't understand people. Two things have happened today that have just pissed me off to the point where I, well, want to stab them.

First, there is this guy at work who is looking for another job. He has a degree in mechanical engineering and my dad is the VP of Operations at a company that hires people with such degrees. So, I did him a favor and made "the call" and got him an interview. I am fairly certain that my recommendation will get him the job. I am not trying to sound like a conceited ass hole here, but my dad has worked there since I was 4. There are pictures of me hanging in the hallway from company picnics that chronicle my childhood. In fact, one of the people he met with when filling out the application asked about culinary school and what sweets I had brought them. (I drop off my creations alternately at my dad's work, Big Jed and Krackle's work, and the boy's work.)

So, today he comes in and starts telling me about how excited he is about the interview. No thank you, which I found completely rude. THEN he proceeds to be a dick to me because of stupid work shit that really had nothing to do with me. I was done early, he was not. He was pissed I didn't stay to help him and ate dinner with someone he hates. I said goodbye to him and he ignored me and walked right past me.

Second incident. My sister sends me a message on Facebook bitching about how I haven't sent her the pictures the boy took at her wedding. Pictures we were not asked to take, but did. Pictures that, for all intents and purposes, were for our own personal use. But her photographer sucked, so we said we would send her what we had. I get that the wedding was 3 weeks ago,but I have barely had any time to function. I have been so busy with school and work and finding a new job and just life in general. There are 600 pictures to go through. I get that she is excited and it was her wedding, but she didn't ask nicely. Her exact words, "So, anytime you can get around to that would be great."

Maybe I am just being sensitive today. I don't know. But, is it so hard to say please and thank you? Is it so hard to say, hey, you did a nice thing for me and I appreciate it? Or am I just being whiny and bitchy and need to just shut the fuck up?

You should probably just not read this.

Secret confession: I watch all the Real Housewives shows on Bravo. Start judging me, immediately. I deserve it. In fact, you should point and laugh. Possibly throw some virtual fruit. Or real fruit. But? BUT!

Why do they let these women make music? AND WHY THE FUCK DID ONE OF THE OTHER HOUSEWIVES CALL IT EARLY MADONNA? I can't deal. Granted, I am, for all intents and purposes, a metal head, so maybe I don't understand pop music. Like Lady Gaga. That shit makes me cringe. My grandmother loves her. My Grandfuckingmother. Mother fucker, fuck. That is all I really have to say about that. I tried to explain to her what the songs meant, but she wasn't having it. Then she called her creative and original and MOTHER FUCKER, FUCK. My grandmother is not allowed to like Lady Gaga. She is also not allowed to have paintings of penises hanging on her walls, but, she does. So, I guess, mother fucker, fuck.

I lost all sense of this post. Oh, yeah. Reality TV stars are no longer allowed to make music. If I had an Erratictopia, this would be law. In fact, based on all the bullshit laws we have passed recently, I wouldn't be surprised if it actually became law.

Also, my cat hates me. The boy is sick of hearing this, but for reals. Change of attitude today, to hate. Cats make no sense. Sort of like this post.

Baking

So, even though I hate baking, I thought I would share some of my creations with you. I only have two weeks left and AM SO STOKED TO BE ALMOST DONE. There aren't words. I haven't held a chef's knife more than once a week for 6 weeks and I feel naked. Hold me.

Fruit Tart

Fruit Tart

Coffee Cheesecake with Crushed Pecans

Charlotte

Vanilla Cake with Coffee Frosting

Banana Cream

Holy. Balls.

Erratic: "I know who I want to marry us if we ever get married."

The Boy: "Carrot Top?"

Erratic: "Here is where you say you are kidding. You are about to say why you are kidding, right?"

The Boy: "I was about to explain why I would want Carrot Top to marry us."

Erratic: "Remember how you were supposed to say you were kidding?"

The Boy: "Oh, yeah, I was....OH! GALLAGHER! Then the front row would be a splash zone. Wait, are you blogging this. I see you typing. Are you typing this on your blog? I am going downstairs now."