Monday, November 30, 2009

Bloglets

Whew! I haven't been able to blog all weekend - my dad's internet connection was missing some sort of plugin that enabled Blogger to work. Who knew? Probably just as well. Don't need prying eyes in my family unit thinking I'm weirder than I already am.

Anywho.

Just lots of random thoughts tonight, need to pin them down somewhere.

***

Got my first full paycheck on Friday now that we are back on 40 hours. I'm going to spend that bitch til it's gone. I've got so much catching up to do and so many things to pay and my loans go back into repayment next month which will pretty much break me even so I'm scrambling to get as much Christmas shopping done right now as I can. Whoo.

***

Speaking of Christmas. I don't really get the point of Christmas cards except that I think I am legally required to send them now because I am an adult and that is the hallmark of adulthood, sending a holiday greeting to people (especially family members) even if you only talk to them a couple times a year. I decided to get ambitious and do my own, although in the long haul, it's going to cost me a bit more to have them printed up on the paper I want instead of just buying them at Target. Oh well. At least I'm buying local, ha. That seems to be the big push around here, right now. Buying local. Which I am more than happy to do, when feasible. I dunno. I should probably finalize a design if I'm going to do it. I have my envelopes and I wrote up the job for the return address labels today.... better get the cards. Right now they are nothing special, but I don't really want anything too fancy, so, I dunno. I may just consider them "done" but I'm so anal that my art file will sit open for a few more days until I just run out of time and call it done. As usually.

***

Would it be completely inappropriate to reuse a rejection that I was given, to give to someone else? I mean, it was so eloquent and tactful... things that I am sure I will not be.... (see: previous posts). Haha. I'm horrible.

***

Speaking of rejections... blah. Every time I think I'm ready to give up the ghost and just move the fuck on, something else keeps me holding on, for whatever stupid reasons my mind can come up with. I am incapable of letting go, even though it seems completely illogical to not do so. My emotions and my logic can fight it out for a while, I don't particularly care. I'm not in any hurry for it to be resolved, it's not like I'm going anywhere or have anything else to focus on. Besides things I Do Not Want. Sigh. I'm such a girl. Such a stupid, stupid girl. A stupid girl with a hurty heart and apparently no common sense.

***

I have resolved to try to get my butt into shape. I am tired of my clothes not fitting, of the numbers on the scale creeping up, of not feeling comfortable in my own skin. As it stands, I am not allowed to wear sweatpants and hoodies to work every day, so I may as well get to work to get myself back to a point where I am okay with wearing cute things. Thanksgiving? Did not help.

But. I ordered a new Pilates DVD, I am going to start paying attention to what I eat, and eat less of it, and I am going to attempt to do *something* every day. Even if it's something small. It's time to quit complaining and start doing something about it, and I've got a lot of people that can kick my ass if I start to slack. So, wish me luck.

I'm also going to attempt to be less lazy with my being, too. Especially on weekends. I tend to skip showers and skip lotions and conditioners and all that extra froufry girly stuff that makes me feel clean and happy. I've found that showering at night helps because I have more time and I don't have to shortcut or skip anything.

So. The new goal, is to make myself, feel better about myself. Once we get that taken care of, we can go back to the usual angst caused by money and boys. ;)

***

Speaking of... I should probably add "going to bed on time" into that pile of goals. Shouldn't be too hard. Except, I am a night person and can stay up late with no problems and sleep in with no problems. It's falling asleep at night and waking up in the morning that cause me issues. Oy.

[But! I woke up ON TIME today and gave up on the snooze and was actually VERY VERY early to work today! I was so proud of myself! Yay!]


Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Hilarious Video, Shameless Plugs, and the Like.

Ok. So. I wrote out this really long journal-type entry thing by hand last night but I probably won't get around to posting it today, if at all ever, and I was going to say something else earlier and I totally forgot, so, instead...

This is the most hilarious thing I have ever seen. Possibly because I know everyone in it and that made it. Even if you don't, I am sure you will still likely enjoy it.

So, please watch, then go here and vote for it (bump it) - even if you don't like it, you are reading this blog so you probably like ME, so please do me the favor of voting for it so my peeps can win.


Out Do w/ Mtn Dew on 12seconds.tv

Monday, November 23, 2009

Just Another Manic Monday

(and now you have it in your head, too.)

Bloody hell. I'm peeved at the world. Mostly I'm peeved at the fact that I have slept horribly the last two nights and now I am finally home and was all curled up in my own bed, and... wide awake.

AND because the browsers on Blackberries SUCK, I could read blog posts but not comment, I could get to my blog but not write, and it's hit or miss which sites will actually show up. SO - while on my hunt for the magic of NyQuil (I'm not sick, but dammit, that's the only shit that knocks me out), I decided to meander over to my computator until it kicked in.

Anywho. I had the day off today. Not so much exciting, as basically the main purpose was to have my annual physical which has been rescheduled three, count it, three times so far this year. For some reason or another, I have been reluctant to find a local physician, but it is no longer "easier" to keep seeing the same one I've seen my whole life. Especially because she left, so I've had a different doctor the last two visits. Meh. I was pretty much convinced that it was time to be done when they pulled out a medical history sheet from a previous visit and told me to check it and write any updates on it. Which would have been fine. Except it was dated 2004. That was FIVE YEARS AGO. I've clearly been there since then. I mean, really? Really?? What the fuck. My file was about as organized as my file folders in my desk at work. If I could properly raise an eyebrow (I am so jealous of people that can move just one of theirs!!), I would. Clearly the concept of Electronic Medical Records (EMR) (I deal with these at work with one of my clients - it is the FUTUUUUUURE) hasn't even been spoken around there. I get it. It's a small town. Blah-dee blah-dee blah. I'm pretty much not going back.

Also delightful was when the doctor looks at me and queries, "Do you exercise?" Gah. I get it, I'm a fatty. I am sure that is not what she meant but I am now fifty pounds over my ideal weight (but only forty over where I would actually care to be.) Shame.

Also, I'm pretty sure speculums were invented as some sort of medieval torture device that they somehow repurposed to suit some need of modern medicine. Also, I'm pretty sure this doctor is fairly new. Holy God that was one of the most painful ladyexams I've had in the however many years (seven, now?) that I've been required to have them. Ouch. (if there are any males actually reading this? Hi and welcome and I'm sorry.)

Then since I was in the neighborhood, I swung by my bank to get myself the hookup on some reward-bonus-checking-account... and apparently, their lobby closes at 3. (It was 3:30 at this point). But, being the friendly small town branch that it is, they let me in and as soon as I told them my name there was an old-lady equivalent of "squee!" since, you know, they've all known me since I was, well, born, and they were all excited to see me since it had been years (another occasion when I regret the additional fifty pounds I carry around), and they insisted it was no trouble at all to help me out, they were there anyyyyyway, they were just Mostly-Closed. So I got done with that, met my dad for a quick bite o' foods, and was on my way.

This is a really boring entry. I am realizing that now. It was kind of a boring weekend. In the sense that it was actually rather nice, to not do anything. Minus the fact that I haven't been able to sleep worth a shit. That part is irrelevant. I have never met a couch I could not sleep on, until my sister's. I am certain I have slept on it before, however uncomfortably, but. Alas. I ended up grabbing my blankets and curling up on the freaking floor, and that was more comfortable. I was able to sleep in the guest bed last night instead, but. Still. Not good sleeps. And I am extremely tired.

Still, it was nice to have the day off. And it's a short week because of Thanksgiving, so it will almost be like, dare I say, having something resembling an actual vacation. (BLASPHEMY!) It will be good, it will be good. And there better be something DAMN good on sale if anyone expects me to be standing outside a store at 4 in the morning waiting for it to open on Friday. I've done it once, I can cross it off the proverbial life list. It wasn't that particularly awesome, plus, you know, people have DIED. Trampled! Usually at Wal-Mart.

Bargain shoppers are crazy. Especially if they haven't had their coffee.

Anyway. Tomorrow is back to normal, again. I am back in town and back at home and this NyQuil better kick in soon (it expired in February - is that bad?) so I can pass the hell out and wake up and be refreshed.

As far as other matters at hand (see: Saturday's post)... I don't really freaking know what to do. Well I know what to do, I think, I just don't know how. I'm really not in the mood for confrontation or begging or mind games or whatever the hell might come from it. Any resistance on my part is probably just going to be viewed as a challenge. A challenge for a supposedly obvious outcome. God, I hate arrogance. I can't even describe the type of vibe that I was getting... the words I were hearing, were pleasant and friendly and flattering... but there was this undertone of implied inevitability. Like a reassurance that even if I said no, it was only temporary, because eventually, I would come around.

Just say the magic words, she's a girl, she'll swoon and you'll catch her. Because women are weak and predictable. Because she's clearly been waiting around for your particular brand of romance.

I mean... AUGH. I don't even know why this is making me so angry. I am quite certain that my vexation upon leaving on Friday is coloring the actual events in a particular light, so that my brain is twisting them to be so much more frustrating and irksome than they actually were. Perhaps I am misremembering. Perhaps my self-preservation mode has gone into overtime.

But... dammit. I hate the moment, however fleeting, that makes me feel that I am no more than an object, waiting to be collected. Conquested. Won.

I don't like it when people presume to tell me what I am thinking or feeling. I don't like it when my implied choice is taken away. You can't take something I said once and then say "so I know you've thought about it" and imply that what you are getting at now, is what I was getting at then. You misinterpreted. I have not thought about it. I have only thought about how I was vaguely concerned that YOU had thought about it. And yes. As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew what was coming. And yet, I was startled all the same. It was a morbid curiosity that kept me there, sipping my beer, listening, trying to read and interpret the situation at hand. Curiosity, perhaps some narcissism, perhaps built-in politeness. Don't leave. It's rude. How would you feel if you were baring your emotions and the person you were telling them to, just ran away? Like shit, is how. Hear him out. Don't be the bitch you hate. Don't be that girl. A million and a half things through my head the whole time, so many directions, so much confusion. Lingering, even. All the way to... well, now.

At risk of sounding redundant (ha, too late)... but. You can't win me, I am not a thing. I am not a damsel in distress who needs rescuing from a tower. I am just fine, thankyouverymuch. If I want a lifeline, I'll ask. You don't just swoop the fuck in and expect me to be waiting with a naive smile on my face and an outstretched hand.

I've always been a bit wary of men. I don't know where this ingrained sense of empowerment has come from; it has always been there. It's what makes me feel stupid when I play the games that females play; when I let myself be the doormat, the pushover. I forgive myself, and move on. I refuse, however, to let a man be the one to strip me of my strength, without my permission. You will not make me into a doormat. If I choose to let you in, if I choose to pull back the full force of my assertive she-storm, if I choose to let you best me - then fine. My choice. I say when. You do not tell me what or when or why. I make my decisions, you do not make them for me. End of story.

Holy hell. I sound like a man-hating "feminazi" (of which, I hate, HATE, that term, by the way. People misinterpret what a feminist actually is. That will be another rant for another day.) I do not hate men. I rather enjoy them. The right ones, anyway. The ones that I choose. The ones that I allow to get near me. I am getting riled up over absolutely nothing but a simple confession over beers, and I allow this to get to me. It's clearly ridiculous, and yet, I clearly see the potential for problems, here. If I get THIS worked up over something so simple as a proposition of sorts... I could not subject myself to a day-in, day-out battle over my sense of self. You do see, now, of course, why I choose to keep my status the way it is. It's never really. truly been a lack of options. It's that inner demon that won't let go. I am protective of myself, because if I'm not, who will be? I think it was Janis Joplin (at least, I think that's where I heard it attributed) that said, "Don't compromise yourself. You're all you've got." So true, so true. Someone has to keep a watchful eye, not just on herself, but those around.

And I do envy my friends with their sickeningly adorable relationships (you know who you are). If I could find that, if I could find what I was looking for... I would not be the bitchy singleton that I am. I would probably be more... of me. Less defensive, more even-tempered, dare I even say docile. The sides that get pushed away to make room for the side that keeps me from getting broken. (The good sides). It's hard to fight so hard to keep who you are when you are afraid that someone is going to take it away. ....And that, I think, is the root of my concern.

I think I just had myself an entire therapy session over the course of one blog post. I wonder what I owe myself?

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Petty Annoyances and Awkward Situations...

In lieu of answering a bajillion questions of "what the hell went on last night" from people following my Twitter feed, I shall just blog about it. Cause, you know, that's what I do. Warning: None of this will probably make any sense. As per usual.

Baaaaaaasically... one of my male friends requested my company for the evening, and since I hadn't hung out with him in quite a while, I obliged. Basically, I unknowingly walked into a trap. I was ambushed - AMBUSHED - although according to some of my friends I probably should have seen it coming. Naturally, I didn't. So he sat there and proceeded to profess his affections and stare at me awkwardly and I felt an immense instinct to flee. Instead I drank my beer like a good girl and let him finish. I couldn't give him the answer he wanted; I couldn't really answer at all. What do you say? I was caught extremely off guard, to my own stupidity. And how dare he presume to know what I want or need and that I would automatically just be swept off my feet and blindly be carried off into the metaphorical sunset. Barf. I don't play hard to get, which I am sure is the impression I give off. I AM hard to get. If I don't react, it doesn't mean "try harder", it means "go away." The guys that I've been with or even flirted with - it's obvious, when I am interested. Trust me, you'll know. Maybe. (I have an exceptional poker face [cue Lady Gaga here, I guess] - when my exboyfriend bared his soul last April for his apparent need to apologize, I just sat there blankly, my face a perfect mass of expressionless-ness. It's probably his fault and his doing, but whatever, that's how it is now. So maybe nobody knows. Maybe I keep my feelings under wraps better than I think, for better or worse. I don't know. I digress.) The more you try to push me, the more I'll try to run. That is, perhaps, what separates me from most other girls. I am fiercely protective of my independence and I don't like being told what I should do or feel. Perhaps this makes me a bitch? Maybe.

But, going back to the original source of this rant, I've never thought about him like that, except insofar as to quickly dismiss the idea as being completely improbable and probably disasterful. That, and he's dated not one but two of my friends, which, by the law of Girl Code, not only places him off limits anyway, but the fact that both of them were so quick to end things - shouldn't that raise a red flag? Something didn't click, yeah fine. I didn't ask for too many details as it was none of my business, but maybe I should have. I don't know. Maybe it's possible that I need to learn to let things grow on me. I don't really know. I'm just very, very... vexed.... right now. That is how I can sum it up. This all vexes me greatly.

I don't really know how I found myself here... I had quite a nice, quiet, tranquil stretch of browsing male specimens at my leisure, perhaps getting my interest piqued here and there, but nothing serious. Sometimes I misjudge and fall for guys that are interested. Meh. It happens to the best of us. I am quite used to things being one-sided on my side; things being one-sided on the other side, perplexes me quite a bit.

However much against my better judgment as of late (and at the pushing of various friends), I've dipped my toe into the dating pool and quite frankly I'm ready to go back and sit on the sidelines and sunbathe, so to speak, to complete the metaphor. I'm quite content where I am, thank you, and the thought of getting wrapped into the angst and uncertainty of the dating game (or whatever) causes me a bit of mental distress. The "fuck off" that I used to have stamped on my forehead has apparently faded away, and apparently I now appear approachable and even available. Fuck. I prefered being a haughty bitch, quite frankly. It was comfortable and easier.

I know, I know. I pick the weirdest things to be irritated by. How dare these boys try to court me and like me and say nice things to me. Gawd. I'm a freakshow and I don't deny that. However, I get very, very uncomfortable if I find myself in a situation I don't want to be in. I honestly don't know what my malfunction is. AND I DON'T LIKE GETTING CAUGHT OFF GUARD. (Perhaps I should feel a tad bit sorrier for doing something similar to one of MY friends a couple months ago... except... it's different when I do it ;) ...) *awkward* I also don't know what I want, I'll admit that. I do know what I don't want and what I don't like... and that includes someone being so cocky as to presume that I would just immediately take the bait or that they know how I feel. They don't. The only person that knows how I feel is ME, and only if you are lucky, will I share that with you. For all my social media narcissism, I am still a very private person when it comes to things that matter. You don't really know me. You only know the me that I allow you to see. Sometimes these are the same; sometimes they are not. You think you know the difference? I have my doubts.

Maybe the problem is that, amongst these new options, none of them are the one I want. Apparently, I would rather be an idiot on a hopeless pursuit than actually go for something attainable. Maybe that's what protects me. Maybe I like to have to earn it. I don't really know. I do know, is that if it doesn't click, it doesn't click. You can't force chemistry. I'm not saying that I wouldn't consider it - I weigh everything and I give it appropriate thought, but, again. You can't force it. I acknowledge this, both ways. You can't force it, I can't force it. I'm not stupid. Hopeless, maybe, but not stupid.

Soooo to make a long story short... there was absolutely no coherent thought process behind any of this and it's more of word vomit, really, because I can't figure out what is bothering me other than that I am apparently angry that boys like me right now. The wrong boys like me, I guess. Bah. I am a whiny, whiny annoying girl that deserves to be bitchslapped, I guess. Sue me.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Is This Thing On?

If I had a dollar for every time I told someone something, only to have them not only not acknowledge it, but turn around and later exclaim over said piece of information like they had just discovered it... I would be able to afford all the pints of ice cream it will take to get me over this new complex.

Harumph.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Brainpurge

I feel like I've been ignoring my blogs. Every time I am online I see my little bookmarked tab and I want to write something but I can't get my head in order and so I put it off for next time.


Well eventually you do that and "next time" becomes "holy crap I have a lot of random stuff in my head that needs to be set free" and then you end up with an entry like this.


And so, I present to you... a collection of random thoughts. This should probably fill my blogging quota for a week.... or two... if it's too long, you can just come back and read a different section every day. Prolong the fun! I could just break them into little individual posts, but that would be unlike me, so I'm not going to. Sorry.


* * *


I have begun "construction" on what I am deeming my "photo wall" - perhaps the quotation marks are unnecessary, as if you walk into my apartment, you will clearly see what I mean.


My walls are made of such a surface that I can't just pound nails into it and hang whatever strikes my fancy, as I'd been able to do with my cookie-cutter off-white walls of my last two places. No, my only option here is to actually drill holes in the wall, which is a tad frightening, or to get creative. I can't function without things on my walls. It's unnatural. I have discovered the beauty of 3M command hooks, the little ones. They need a bit of modifying (read: breaking) to accommodate my lovely cheapo frames from Wal-Mart, but they work just fine, and don't mangle my walls.


I am not sure what my feelings are on my progress. I have spent less than $15 in this particular endeavor so it wouldn't be the end of the world if a Plan B was needed. It almost feels like too much, on one wall. And yet, I don't want to take any of them down. I like being surrounded of images of me and my friends. It makes me happy.


It reminds me that no matter how crabby I get or how shitty things are going, it's really not that bad. Sometimes I am able to step outside myself, if even for a moment, and realize that I am exactly where I want to be. I wouldn't trade anything for all the money in the world. The photos just serve as reminders.


They are also carefully selected to be images of myself that I actually like. Through some means of positive reinforcement, I hope it helps me to stop hating the way I look. Cause sometimes? I look pretty damn hot.


* * *


I was at a wedding this weekend. It was pretty and elegant and swanky and had to have been hella expensive. And you know what? It made me not in the least bit feel inclined to get married. It's weird what triggers that. I'm pretty content where I am. I think I have established myself well enough to know that I don't NEED anyone. Would it be nice? Of course. Is it a total tragedy if I don't? Nope.


It's funny, though. I feel like, suddenly!, people are feeling inspired to set me up. If I had a dollar for every time someone said (or even hinted), "hey, I know this guy..." It's not like I'm completely *opposed* to the idea... except, I am. Unless I trust their judgment completely, I'd rather trip and fall into my own messes. I feel like there's a lot of pressure when I'm supposed to hit it off with a friend of a friend. Cause if it doesn't work? I feel horrible, and I end up avoiding the original friend out of guilt.


SPEAKING of, I guess I lose my blogging license (especially as a single twenty-something) if I don't even mention the fact that, yes, this has been occurring recently, and yes, I've been relenting. I'm not going to go into detail, though... this blog is just widely distributed enough that it could lead to much awkwardness... and besides? If I'm not interested? It's really no better than breaking up with someone via a blog, if I say it here and not to them. I'd really rather not be THAT kind of bitch. Just... there haven't been the butterflies. Which is code for everything else. Just because I seem to be perpetually single, doesn't mean I am going to lower my expectations. Note I said expectations, not standards - those don't budge. I wouldn't even give anyone a second chance if they didn't pass my ridiculously picky threshold of acceptability. They've all been perfectly nice guys, but... eh. Lacking. And it's probably just me being me and I'm not going to write anyone off, I suppose... but. I'm not going to force things, because that is just a horrible, horrible idea... if things happen, they'll happen. And that's all I am going to say on the matter.


* * *


Holy damn it's already mid-November. Christmas has barfed all over all the stores and airwaves and holyshit, it's coming fast. I love Christmas, don't get me wrong. I love the smells and the sounds and the warm fuzzies and the lights and mostly I just feel really (guilty?) that I'm not going to be able to afford to really do much for way of gifts this year. I mean, I've been cheaping out on my friends the last couple years (sorry guys), but I at least like to get nice things for my immediate family. I don't know. Perhaps a lot of plasma donation is in my future. A second job would be ideal, but I really have my doubts as to if that is even feasible with my weirdo schedule.


Sigh.

* * *


So. After TKD tonight (which I continue to slack off at going... I always feel good when I leave, but somehow that's not enough to get my tired/lazy self there to begin with), I ended up subbing in on a rec league volleyball team with some gals I work with. It was so much fun. I've missed playing volleyball. (it's been a while... as evidenced by the fact that my arms hurt like hell right now and probably will tomorrow, too). One of the redeeming facets of high school was all the sports I got to play. Well, volleyball and softball, really. I hated track and I sucked at basketball. I actually threw in the towel for BB after my sophomore year, and it killed me to actually QUIT something, but it was for the best. Track, I did anyway. Why? I don't rightly know. The problem, of course, with getting nostalgic about how much I missed playing those particular sports, is that it dredges up all the bitterness and unfairness from my bitchwhore coaches that really, really kind of ruined it for me.


INTRINSIC MOTIVATION, that was the word I was looking for in my previous blog post.


Ahem. Carry on.


I really loved those sports. I worked my ass off. I didn't suck. And yet, the experiences were tainted for me. Fuck it. I don't want to get sad. And I really don't want to talk about high school. Possibly ever, on here.


Anywho. It was fun and it occurred to me that if I could find some sort of workout that was equally as fun, I would do it a hell of a lot more often. I got a GOOD workout in tonight, that much was apparent. But generally? Working out is a chore. Running, exercise equipment, workout dvds, etc etc etc. I don't do them because I hate them. It is not fun for me. It is something I dread doing and thus I have to motivation to do it. So. I need something FUN that I will actually ENJOY doing and look forward to. Anyone got any suggestions? I'm all ears.


* * *


And for our daily dose of Pathetic.


On Friday I went out for lunch with a group of my coworkers. I am trying really really really hard to not eat out much, since this prior week to payday, I was literally juggling around a net worth of less than $20 and trying to figure out how the hell I was going to even make it. But, it was payday, and it was about $5, so fuck it. Once a week. Maybe twice. I should be okay, right?


Anyway. I'm digressing.


You know those Chinese Zodiac placemats that every single Chinese restaurant in America has? With the animals and cryptic blurbs? I'm a Year of the Rat. "Ambitious yet honest, prone to spend freely." All fair and true. Probably why I'm poor. It also says I seldom make lasting friendships, which I disagree with. Whatever. It says I am compatible with Dragons and Monkeys and should stay away from Horses. So I naturally examined who my matches were. Wouldn't you know, the guy I am stupidly enamored with? yeah he's a Year of the Monkey.


So there you have it, folks. Fate, as written on a cheap Chinese placemat.


And, *headdesk*


* * *


I have no idea why I am still up. Seriously. It's midnight now. I'm going to get all of seven hours of sleep. I am tired but generally I toss and turn for at least an hour before I fall asleep, so I guess maybe I'm trying to wear myself out at my computer. I dunno. Insomnia sucks, morning sucks worse, and I just want it to be the weekend again so I can sleep more. I have boring hobbies.


* * *


Grr. My cat is such a spoiled little bitch. She's all up into everything now and I can't really make her stop because I'm not home half the time to make the point sink in. She doesn't really BREAK anything so it's not like she's being destructive... just annoying. And then she looks at me and she's all cute and I swear at her but don't really mean it and then we each go about our merry little way.


Further proof that I probably should not procreate.


* * *


Ok, this is getting absurdly long, even for me. If you're still here, um, I feel like I should award you a prize or a gold star or something. Thanks? Congrats? I don't really know what to say here. Awkward.

Friday, November 13, 2009

Pity Party, Table For One

Whoo. Well that was a shit-tastic week and I am incredibly glad it is over. I am rather both physically and emotionally exhausted, both of which are probably related to the fact that I was off my meds at the beginning of it. Oy.

Anyway. Not much to say tonight. That's probably not true. I just don't feel like writing it.

Here is what I DO want to say:

I don't really particularly care that I've sold my soul to Corporate America. I don't care that I work too much and live too little. I don't care. It's what I do. I have quite possibly the strongest work ethic known to mankind, and that I credit to my dad and my grandpa. It's what was instilled in me. That plus my raging perfectionism, and I'm a goddamn machine. I WILL be the best. It's almost psychotic, really.

I don't even care that I am not being paid what I know I am worth. All I really want at the end of the day is to feel needed and appreciated.

And you know what? I don't think that's too much to ask. Especially for as hard as I work.

But you know what else? I don't really feel like I am. I can't even remember the last time I even got a sincere "thank you." It's like a giant slap in the face every time I step back and realize that I'm the only one that gives a shit about me.

I feel so grossly underappreciated and it makes me want to cry because what is the fucking point, then? There's got to be a trade-off. Something that makes it worthwhile. And right now? I'm lost. Pretty soon I'm going to just rather have the money. And at that point, I will have lost the game. I will lose my inherent motivation to be awesome... and I'll be just another lifeless working drone. And that makes me sad.

And now that I've said all this, I feel like a textbook example from one of my psych textbooks from my Psychology of Motivation class but I'll be damned if I can remember the terminology I need to explain it. Well, fuck. That minor totally paid off.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

For Veteran's Day

I'm pretty plugged into the Internet, which is very likely the understatement of the year. It was interesting to see that half the chatter was about having the day off or people being annoyed that the post office was closed, etc, and the other half was a genuine effort to say thanks to our soldiers and veterans.We are, at large, a nation of whiners. We all harbor an obnoxious sense of entitlement, which is probably why the rest of the world hates us, and not unironically, why I hate most people. And people drift into complacency.

It makes me really sad that there is really only one day a year where people stop to say thank you, and mean it. Our armed forces risk their lives and often pay the ultimate sacrifice so we can sit around on Twitter and talk about what we had for lunch, or any of the other inane shit we do all day.

And I'll admit, I'm just as bad as everyone else. BUT, someone on Twitter, and I don't remember who, posted this article, which is kind of long but I think everyone should read. It was positively heartbreaking and beautifully written, and I actually had to stop and take breaks from it because I kept crying. If you can read it and NOT cry, you are a soulless bastard and I want nothing to do with you.


You'll be glad you read it, I promise.

I also want to give a special mention to my two grandfathers and my cousin. Both of my grandpas served in WWII in the navy. I think one stayed relatively stateside, but my paternal grandfather was very much in active combat. He was at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked (as was his twin brother, on a different ship) and fought over in the Pacific, after. This probably contributes to my weirdly obsessive fixation on World War II. I don't know how many papers I wrote on Pearl Harbor but I got to a point somewhere where I felt like I could tell you absolutely anything you wanted to know. I'm really peeved because one of my (self-proclaimed) brilliant essays was a critical design comparison between a symbolic WWII/Pearl Harbor poster and an assigned Cuban revolution poster or something - I never got it back from the professor and the original is saved on a clunky zip floppy drive that I don't even know if I could find a machine to READ anymore, even if I found the disc itself. I did a ton of research for it and would love to re-read it.

Digressing.

I wish I would have gotten to hear more of my grandfather's stories. I was thirteen when he lost his battle with cancer, and while I have obviously heard stories, never directly from him, not when I was old enough to really get it. I do know that he was peeling potatoes at the time of the attack, but that's about it. :)

My other grandfather served as a dentist in the navy (if y'all are familiar with old movie stars - my grandpa's claim to fame is that he once cleaned Gene Kelly's teeth.) and was based out in California, from what I can gather. I haven't really asked and I don't really know what TO ask, but I should, soon. As much as I would like to believe that my grandpa will live forever, nobody does... and time has this funny way of getting ahead of you.

My cousin is currently serving as an officer in the Air Force and just recently returned from Iraq. He was also the first of my generation in our family to head to Iowa State, breaking tradition of my immediate and extended family being very largely an U of Iowa fanbase. I've got allies, at any rate. Haha. He's got some pictures up on facebook from when he was over there. Fortunately he had a relatively "safe" mission (if there are such things), according to my aunt, so it wasn't quite as scary as it could have been, and he wasn't over there as long as he could have been, or as long as other units have been. Not to say he won't get sent ba
ck, but... he's home safe, for now.

And, here are a couple pictures of my family's soldiers! I don't have any of my maternal grandpa, like I mentioned in a previous post, but I will eventually... until then, my other grandpa and my cousin! (and yes, I totally stole one of his pictures off of facebook. I'm sure he won't care).

Richard H. Leaman
Yes, he was as michevious as he looks.


My grandpa (left) and his twin brother Robert.
Troublemakers, but good guys. From the stories I've heard. ;)


My cousin, Mike. I don't know his rank or I'd brag him up a little more. ;)

Monday, November 9, 2009

not to be cliché, but FML

So today was one of those mornings where my brain decided to implode upon itself. It's been a while since I've had an anxiety attack, and I'll grant you, I'm not 100% sure what I have count as attacks so much as episodes. It's nothing specific that just sets them off, but it sucks hardcore when they happen.

Basically, I end up in an extremely unsettled and overwhelmed state and it's hard to breathe properly and my chest feels tight and I just want to cry and every person that I encounter somehow serves to make it worse. It's really hard to explain. It's like being on the verge of panicking, without ever quite crossing over.

And I can step out of myself and look at it and know that it's completely unwarranted and bizarre, but there is nothing I can do to stop the feeling of being suffocated.

I realize there are triggers, right now. I'm trying to get all my banking information switched over with my bank's merger that became effective today, so all automatic payments continue to directly pay themselves out without a hitch. I have that stupid court statement from my mother that I need to write. And, probably most significantly, my prescription on my anti-depressants ran up on Friday and I was too busy to call the pharmacy to have them fax an extension request to my doctor's office to refill it, so I had to ration myself all weekend. I ended up taking one of my "old" pills yesterday - they're of a similar chemical makeup, so it had to be better than nothing, but judging by how this morning turned out, apparently they're not enough anymore. I can usually tell when I've been off my meds for about a day, which usually prompts me to check to make sure I've taken my other pill also (9 times out of 10, if I forget one, I forget both), so it's kind of a handy checks-and-balances system. But with my old Rx, if I missed a day or even two, I was mostly just run down and a little out of it. I've never felt so outright panicky and anxious before. Granted, it's been more than a day, so that couldn't have helped.

It was so strange, though. I woke up this morning and I was perfectly fine. I was up early enough to even eat a bowl of cereal for breakfast. I never have time for breakfast. I go about my business but no less than forty five minutes at work and I was ready to cry every time something else added itself to my to-do list, or someone called, or even talked to me. Even more so when my computer would lock up and I couldn't do anything. Like there was too much pressure, or something. But there isn't. It was a Monday, for Christ's sake, off of a fairly tame workweek last week. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I hate being helpless about such stupid shit.

I wish I could explain it better. I just sound kind of whiny and crazy right now and I acknowledge this, but... BAH. It sucks.

Also, I have $10 spread out over my two checking accounts. Four days til payday... wheeee!

Sunday, November 8, 2009

[Insert Heavy Sigh Here]

I'm a world class procrastinator. Sometimes it's because I simply don't want to do something, and I will put it off for as long as possible. Sometimes it's because I don't know how to begin something, and the thought of diving into that particular task is just beyond daunting. So it's easier to do other things.

Like cleaning my kitchen. Doing some dishes. Posting pictures to facebook. Going for a walk.

Anything, everything.

I have a "writing assignment", so to speak, that I need to complete. Basically - I need to write an Official Statement to be used in my mother's divorce case. It's either that or I haul myself up to her town in the middle of the week to testify. Obviously, I'd much rather just write. For a couple reasons... I don't want to drive all the way up there, I don't want to take the time off of work, it would be awkward and uncomfortable, and, mostly, I'm a much better writer than I am an ad-lib speaker. However - if you know me IRL, you've heard this dramatic episode probably more times than you ever needed. It's a long-ass story and there's a reason I've never written it down. It's too damn exhausting to think about.

Well. I got a text message this morning telling me she needed it in her hands Wednesday. SO I really have no choice but to hammer it out, now. I just can't seem to focus. There are SO MANY things that need said, or could be said. Bah.

So instead I am clearly writing in my blog. You know, as a warm up. I've at least started a Word doc for the Officialness, so, y'know. We're making progress. I've also got 80% of my dishes clean - they were starting to pile up. So, it's been a productive day. Shockingly, because I was up at 9. Not so shockingly, because I slept a lot yesterday. Which was because I tailgated all day and got really drunk and really couldn't do anything BUT sleep. It happens, I guess.

I feel like it's been a while since I've really blogged, and I've got lots to say! but all the thoughts are so disjointed they probably need separate entries and so they don't belong here.

Instead, I'll leave you with a pic from Halloween.

Epic.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Swinging Moods...

See, now today I am perfectly pleasant and I don't mind that I have plans most every day for the rest of the week. (Saturday = tailgating, hells to the yes!). I really, really shouldn't blog when I'm PMSing.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Long Story Short, I Guess I Really Just Want to Be Wearing Sweatpants Right Now

Harumph. I'm grouchy and PMSy and I haven't blogged for a while so there was probably a lot of things I was going to say but I can't remember what they were and I only have about twenty minutes to blog anyway so it's going to be all segmented and nonsensical. (Like usual, pretty much.)

First. My head hurts and I'm tired and for some reason or another I am busy. Not like, work busy (which is a given), but my evenings.... somehow they managed to fill up. I am booked until like next Wednesday. Which on one hand, is good, but on the other, this gives me no time to myself, and I am a happy little hermit and I don't like being so committed to so many things. (Ah, there you have it, the root of everything - I am a terrible commitment phobe). Not like I used to be. It was good while I was in college but I had a much more relaxed and comfortable schedule and I thrived on being busy. Right now I thrive on having time to wind-down and relax and that doesn't work if I always have to be "on" - because my cat doesn't much care if I'm grouchy and antisocial and sitting around in sweatpants and sleeping at 6:30 in the evening. I mean, I know I'm super awesome and fun to be around, but that only goes so far as my energy holds out, and once I get worn out, I'm a cranky bitch. My problem is I just need to learn to say no, but I haven't quite mastered that ability yet. Someday, I suppose. 

SIGH.