Experiences that help you grow as a person

Experiences that help you grow as a person:
-Amy Nielsen
Working in the AIDS program has been one of the best experiences I have undergone. Prior to my employment there, even though I don’t like to admit it, I was pretty judgmental toward the gay and homeless population.  In fact whenever a homeless person would ask me for money I would get a bit upset and rude, like, “here I am working two jobs to put myself through college, and you have the nerve… “
Anyway… I worked with an AIDS and HCV (Hepatitis-C) positive homosexual man named Buck, an AIDS and HCV positive woman named Lois, another AIDS positive gay man named Jamie, and an HIV and HCV positive man named Bull (whom had previously been incarcerated at San Quentin…)  I was pretty intimidated at first.  First of all I had never been surrounded by such diversity, second I did not know too much about the viruses that they carried, and third…SAN QUENTIN. Is that not a maximum security prison?
As I am not one to close up and not get to know someone I took the opportunity to ask these folks about their lives (after I had discovered they were MORE than willing to share… J)  After getting to know them, I discovered that YES they messed up when they were younger and YES they are suffering the consequences, but they are truly magnificent kind and caring people that worked hard to get where they are at.  Even though it is just clean and sober and not some other accomplishment.  Most of them had crazy horrible childhoods and look at them now…volunteering for this program so that they might help others that came to find themselves in tough situations.  “Others” that will listen to my coworkers as they have been there, they KNOW what this person is going through and that helps immensely. And when it comes to Bull…, remember San Quentin?  Very nice man.   
As far as the homeless person thing is concerned we tested our fair share of them.  Plenty came in hoping for some incentive to test.  After getting to converse with these upstanding citizens (as the front desk person) I have come to find that many of them are truly insane…I mean for real.  And that there is a major problem with programs to help them in California and these are the type that cannot just go get a job at MacDonald’s.  Sure, there are tons of lazy homeless people that would rather sit on a street and float through life without getting a job, but just keep in mind that there are others who grab a pencil off of your front desk, think it is a hot dog with mustard on it, and try to eat it…..  
That last statement happened for real…right in front of my eyes.  
I wish that we all could have this opportunity.  To be surrounded by people who have come from not so nice childhoods and that were dealt very different hands at life.  Or just people who make different decisions than we sometimes think they should make and support and try to understand.  I think it would make us all just a bit less judgmental.

CRAZY CRAZY

CRAZY CRAZY
All right, so I am pretty sure most of you have heard this story, but not much happens to me that is really out of the ordinary, so here it goes again:
It happened a year ago, June 2003. It was my last night working at Gottschalk’s before going home for the summer to help dad out while Cheryl was on yet another vacation… Most of you probably don’t know, but Gottschalk’s is a horrible company to work for. If you aren’t underpaid, you are overworked, etc. Well, I was both. And on this particular evening I was closing the Juniors Dept. by myself… as usual. And me, being the good little employee that I was, really wanted to leave the department organized for my last day in that hellhole. So I was running around like crazy cleaning up after all the lazy pigs that shopped there. Anyway, while I was folding some clothes on the cash register desk, I noticed some awkward looking guy just kinda standing around in the department. At first I thought he was a little odd, but what was I thinking? This was Gottschalk’s and weird people were all over… and besides, there were two obnoxious women, too large for our clothes but in denial, in the fitting room, and one, I thought, may be his wife. So back to work. Being the observant person that I am, I was always pretty aware of the goings on of the department and noticed this guy was still hanging around and every time that I would turn around, he would make it a point to get behind me. So I thought I would call security and tell them to keep an eye out. BUT THIS IS GOTTSCHALK’S and security was on a break. You like that? On a break. So whatever, back to work. Anyway, 15 minutes prior to closing the operator makes an announcement that we will be closing, and to grab your crap and please leave, or something to that effect. So I busied myself with closing procedures. I began to fold the tables right by the register and noticed a figure out of the corner of my eye. I turned to ask this person if I could help them in any way. Haha, it turns out it was the crazy guy… and in fact this pervert did think I could help him with something as he grabbed my left arm a hung on for dear life while in his right hand…..hmmmm, how shall I put this will younger listeners…. He was doing naughty things with himself. His pants and all were around his ankles and he had a CRAZY CRAZY, like I am WAY on drugs and nuts look in his eye. Anyway, I sorta froze at this point because I didn’t want to go kickin’ his junk and causing him to get really angry. You see, I heard people on hard core drugs don’t feel much in the way of pain. And I stupidly assumed that at this point security would be off their break and would see through the cameras what was going down. They ALWAYS have a camera facing our registers so I figured they would be there in any minute. So I just kinda stood there in shock. Well, I guess this dude thought better of all of this in the MIDDLE of a freaking retail store, and so he decided it would be better to continue outside. So he started pulling me through the jeans in route to the door that leads to the dark, narrow ally between the two shopping centers. Now I was not about to let this happen so I wrenched my arm from his grip and ran to the phone to call 911. Which did not work, because you have to dial a 9, then 911 to get out. So dumb. And I was a little freaked so my Amy brain was not functioning properly. Anyway, while I am finally on the phone with security, this guy runs out the ally door with his pants around his ankles and disappears. So security calls the cops and I was impressed, they actually got there within 20 minutes or so! Wow, lazy pigs. Anyhow, So three of these retards come in to question me and get an ID of this guy. So I give them a very accurate description of this dude. Tall, dark longer hair, surfer look, about 35…etc. They then wanted me to describe EXACTLY what happened. What they guy said, etc. THEN! Then the cop asks… “Well, what were you doing?” Like I provoked the pervert. I was livid but remained cooperative…because they wanted to get my contact information so in case they found him, I could ID him. At this point I was more than irritated that they were taking so freaking long to get all this information rather than actually being cops and trying to go find this guy who was probably finishing what he started somewhere nearby. Anyway, so the cop asks my name… I tell him “Amy Nielsen”… and then he asked for my middle name. I told him I don’t have a middle name. And the turd looks at me like I am stupid and says, “You don’t have a middle name?” And I said “No.” So STUPID. And then he asks for my phone numbers, etc, and then wants my cell phone number. Well, at that point I didn’t have one. So, I told him “I Don’t Have ONE!” And then this IDIOT replies, “You are telling me a girl your age doesn’t have a cell phone?” And I said….”YES” He then says, “You understand that it is a crime to withhold information from a questioning officer?” Holy crap, are you kidding me? Who is the criminal? Protect and serve right? Anyway, so finally they were done, and I got to leave. And no, they never called me to say they caught him, they were probably too busy making arrangements to go to Starbucks to even do anything about it
Amy 2004

PASSING BACK PAPERS…

PASSING BACK PAPERS…

Remember when you used to want to volunteer to pass back papers
in school? When it used be a great honor if you were picked and you would
fight nail and tooth to keep your stack in its entirety? Well, I do. It was back
in first grade, even to this day I am amazed at myself by this story, and I was
called on to pass back papers. It was just the greatest job. Getting to move
around while everybody else had to sit in their chairs having nothing to do
but watch YOU getting to move around. Moving around at age 6 is very
important to a child. So anyway, here I am, and I am loving it. Well, a few
papers in , I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. NEVER. I couldn’t or I
would lose my stack to someone else! I kept passing back. The urge
again…once again, the force upon my little Amy bladder was ignored. Well,
I believe I have always been known to be somewhat stubborn, even in my
little days and there was absolutely NO way that I was going to give away
that stack! So I just stood in the corner there and let that urge fly with
papers in hand and pants on! After I had finished, I went right back to my
paper passing with a little yellow puddle over in the corner of the room. I
still don’t know to this day if anyone knew it was me. I can’t imagine how
they wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t I have a big wet stain on my backside? I
mean, I was standing in the lines they make us stand in before lunch and all
of that and somebody in my class even asked me if I knew who did it. Kids
don’t beat around the bush at that age do they? I mean, wouldn’t they just
say “Ewww, it was YOU!?” I replied that I had been passing back papers…☺
“Oh,” said the little girl… Triumphant, they had no idea…I was victorious. I
would wet my pants in the class and still remain the class favorite. Whoa ha
haha. And don’t pretend YOU wouldn’t have done the same thing…☺

Amy’s Christmas Story (2003)

Kindergarten Klepto

Kindergarten Klepto

When I was five years old I attended Sutter Elementary School. One day we had
sugar cookies for a boy’s b-day and I, like everyone else, received but one
cookie. Well, post party bash, we went back to our grueling school work which
consisted of finger painting and nap time. Well, this nap session in particular my
mind was fixed upon the extra cookies and, consequently, I couldn’t sleep. So
when I thought everyone was asleep I crept up to the tall bookshelf, climbed up,
helped myself to another cookie and ate it in the restroom. After my second
cookie I thought that I was satisfied and went back to my mat. Well, a couple of
minutes later the cookies were calling my name once again, so I crept over to the
book shelf, climbed up and heard someone’s name being called and assumed it
was mine so I ran to the bathroom with two cookies this time and hid in their for
about an hour. When I finally got my courage to go back out there everything was
fine and I got not one, but four cookies in my belly while everyone else was
sleeping.

Amy 2002

Accident Prone

Accident Prone

t kicked off with a golf ball to the right ankle. My Junior year of pain that is. Yeah, I know, you’re probably thinking that it is my fault going golfing with a Fox boy and all because you know how they all are. Anyway so Tim Fox and I were golfing at the Brentwood golf course. Like my second time of golfing, and his FIRST time playing golf that didn’t’ involve miniature buildings and such. We were having a pretty good time. Tim had hit four into the street, “on accident,” and I had done fairly well. So we’re on the third hole, a par four. And I drive my ball more or less toward the green where it was supposed to go. Then Tim Steps up, and try to picture this. I was wearing sports sandals, you know, the kind you just slip your foot into leaving your poor ankles exposed like a magnet to the outside world (I could do this because I was an employee of the restaurant and I was allowed to “bend” the rules.) I was behind and to the right of him, what I thought was a reasonably safe distance. Then Tim decides that he wants to be like Happy Gilmore. So Tim takes a few steps back so that he could get a running start to his swing. He then proceeded to hit the ball and subsequently wonder where it had gone. He soon figured it out when, already, I was sitting on the grass hugging my poor purple and LARGE ankle. It wasn’t a pretty site. Anyway, like I said, I wasn’t thinking. I was, in fact, with a Fox boy and should have hidden behind a tree. So anyhow, I was carried into the restaurant where my ankle was elevated and covered in ice. It was bruised for over two years. Just recently it faded. So that’s #1.

#2 About a week after my golfing accident I was in Clayton Valley visiting my friend Devan. Well, My ankle, by that time, was fine to walk on, but was tender to the touch. So I thought that a little long board ride seemed harmless. It was going fine. Fine until my ankle gave out and I fell, spraining my right wrist and losing a chunk from my left knee. Oh, I also stubbed my left toe, but you know. The wrist, however, was quite painful and so dad took me to his office and took x- rays. I also got a brace. Hooray.
#3 Well, late in my sophomore year I was elected to go to Girl’s State. And to be eligible to attend I had to have a Hepatitis B? Shot. Well, apparently reactions do, infrequently, occur. And our WONDERFULLY RETARDED Doctor never warned me to watch for symptoms of one of these reactions. So, incautiously, I proceeded to go to school. During second period while in jewelry, I was making a few rings and then, interestingly enough, was then in the office. I don’t remember anything in between. It seems that I had laid my head down near the flame I was working with, then made my way to the phone, I don’t remember whether or not I had called mom there, or in the office. Well, so I went home, and slept it off. Nothing too serious, but if my hair had caught on fire it would have been not so hot. That’s number three.
#4 Well, number four is simply a pinched nerve and a pulled muscle in my back. It happened during volleyball, I did go to see a chiropractor, it hurt, but no extravagant story to it. Except for the fact that I was present every match.
#5 Well, then I nearly tore my rotator cuff and was out of volleyball for quite some time. It hurt VERY badly and I had to go to the stupid a chiropractor guy a lot. #6 Aaron Somerhalder was practicing with our team and was being a stupid gay boy, you know, hitting hard and thinking that he was cool even though it was on a girl’s net. Well, I went up to block and it hit my finger wrong. It was odd, a wave of nausea swept over me, weird cause I didn’t think it was too big a deal. Well, my right palm was purple for a while.
#7 My lovable doggy died…OH SO SAD. Well, that is enough of that.
#8 Here goes the right ankle. During a match with Clayton Valley. It hurt. It swelled. It went away.
#9 Mike Ramaha, a good friend of mine “died.” Not really, it’s a long story I don’t care to go into detail with, but I was pretty sad again.
#10 Not quite my junior year, but Feb. of my senior year I was rear ended by some skanky paramedic who wooed the officer, stupid skanky skank. Anyhow, Meghan and I were in and out of chiropractor’s offices with whiplash for some time and missed lots of club. Oh well, that’s life I guess. We did get massages after all.