Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Well, that was... interesting....

My friend Calee's friend Matt found this personality test thinger online the other day, and she posted it on her blog, and out of curiosity, I took it (and am now posting it here.)

I've seen a lot of personality tests in my day, through various team-building exercises and my psych classes, but this was, hands down, the weirdest one I've ever seen. So weird, I'm intrigued by it.

It's based solely out of shapes, you pick "A" or "B" for each shape in answer to the question being asked - it's all based on intuition and some sort of emotional response, whatever. It was strange.

Here was my result:

You reach out to the world and pull in experiences of all forms and kinds. Spontaneous, immediate and active, you have a natural tendency to win, whether this is in the business world or on the freeway. In the right context this can be a positive encouragement to those around you. In the wrong context it can lead to a pathetic display of ego and misplaced pride. You are always on the prowl for clues as to how to win. Usually this behavior is unconscious or playful but the sense of play can rapidly disappear if you are found to be losing in the aforementioned contest. Only those who don’t compete are met with derision. You love to be the center of attention. The moment at hand is always of prime concern. Worries about the future or the past, or abstract discussions of philosophical matters are something for others to concern themselves with. Emotions are fleeting and often used as tactics.

I'm... not sure how to interpret that. I like winning. I hate losing. I like being the center of attention, sometimes, even though it's SO AWKWARD for me. I don't know. I'll have to think about it more. It seems kind of generic, like a horoscope. Who doesn't like winning? I mean, really.

Anyway, here's the link. Try it out and let me know what results you get? Feel free to post in the comments below!

PS - Unrelated to everything else, today is my half birthday. Send me presents!

PPS - Just kidding. Don't send me presents. Unless you really want to. I'll try not to dwell on the fact that I'm just that much closer to turning another year older. Eek!

Monday, March 21, 2011

little bits of life right now

If I don't start typing then I am going to sit and stare at the blinking cursor until I give up and close my laptop... I'm just talking out loud. I feel like I've had a lot swimming around in my head but nothing worth really talking about.

I feel like I'm staving off another existential crisis, or something. Part of me feels like I'm falling into a rut - ruts are good! routine! comfortable-ness! - and part of me just feels like I'm aimlessly wandering through life again. The seasons are shifting. Normally this is a good thing... but I didn't have time to properly wallow through my seasonal issues and so the inertia of it is throwing me off. It's like I'm trying to stop too fast... I had too much momentum building up. It started too late in the season, it was too mild of a winter... and so I'm in this weird in between where it just kind of gave me a shove and ran off laughing before I could catch my balance.

Or something.

I'm trying to sort out my finances again... I mean, they're fine. I'd be completely fine if it weren't for the fact that I am going to need to buy a more reliable vehicle soon. I've got a $500 repair looming on my horizon if I don't. Granted, yes, that's cheaper than a new one, but if you start to add together all the repairs I've made over the last year or two, it's not worth it. The car-buying situation for those in the market for something cheap... is not pretty. I don't know where all the cheap cars went but nobody is selling them. So I'm going to have to take on a car loan, I would imagine. Along with that... my insurance is going to go up, because apparently when you take out a loan on a car, they make you buy the bigger, more comprehensive insurance. Which is about five times as much as my current liability-only insurance. So that sucks.

Work is going well, though I think I need to come up for air soon. I've got Vegas in May but until then, it's another long marathon stretch of long weeks and late nights. My vacation time resets in April... I think I've used up enough that I won't lose any, but as usual, I'm going to carry over the maximum amount of time that I can. I need to learn how to let go, how to breathe. Relaxation doesn't suit me. I have to go full speed. I get confused when I come to a stop.

There are a couple other things that are nagging at me, too, but I can't quite put my finger on them. They peek out at me just long enough for me to know that they're there, but not enough to worry.

In completely unrelated other news, I've lost 7 pounds so far on Weight Watchers, which I am quite pleased about. This probably all merits its own post as I've definitely got Thoughts on this but knowing me, I'll launch into some reiteration of all my self-esteem issues and we don't have time for that today. It's definitely an adjustment, especially since, you know, I love food (which is what got me into this whole mess in the first place)... it's sometimes quite painful to have to turn down or turn away from the foods I would normally gravitate to. I catch myself thinking, "when I'm done with WW, then I can eat that again!" - but are you ever REALLY done? And it will be a while. Quite a while. And that's a terribly unhealthy way to be thinking because I'm practically tempting myself to jump ship. The way their new system is set up, you get more points, and so you're not supposed to deprive yourself, and you get extra floater points for the week... but damn if some of the stuff I loved to eat before were probably more points than I could have in a day, even IF I used all my free points on top of the regular points. I had some seriously shitty eating habits.

But I am starting to feel better. I'm slowly getting to a point where some of my stuff fits just an eensy bit better. Where I feel like I'm on track and am hopeful about getting to a place where I don't cringe when I look in the mirror.

One step at a time, and more on that later.

For now, I just wanted to write something, because I was starting to miss my blog.

Plus, if I keep typing, maybe some of the shit that's circling around in my head will come out to play and I can figure out what it is that's bothering me... because on all other fronts, I am quite content right now. All things considered.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Happy Saint Catrick's Day!

Someday, I plan to do a full calendar of holiday/seasonal cat pictures.


Anywho, in case you felt like reading words, here's last year's post on why I am more Irish than you, even though I'm only a little bit Irish.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Beads, Masks, Glitter and Feathers

You know what I'm REALLY good at? Forgetting my prom recaps. I did the same thing last year, too. Whoopsies.

I won't waste too much time rambling on about prom as I'm sure you're here to see pictures, anyway. (Which, if you're one of my facebook friends, this post is going to be a giant letdown because you've already seen them all. And much sooner than now.)

To recap: this is grownup throwback prom NOT high school prom, with booze, a band, and this year, a lot of glitter and feathers and not really being able to easily identify anyone because almost everyone was wearing a mask.

I was not able to wear the red dress that I had originally planned on wearing, because, as previously mentioned, it did not fit. Which is too bad, because I am a big fan of re-wearing and re-using bridesmaid dresses. Maybe next year. At any rate, I grabbed something else out of my closet, which worked just as well, because it was not strapless and poorly altered so I did not have to worry about the ladies popping out unexpectedly. (Granted, as much as I struggled with the zipper on that thing, odds are very good that if I had managed to get it zipped at all, NOTHING would be moving.) I mean, as thematically appropriate as that would have been... I really didn't want to accidentally flash 400 people, a large majority of whom I worked with.

Side note: we raised $3900 for the American Cancer Society this year, bringing the grand total of charitable donations from 4 years of proms to over $10K. WHAT UP.

Anywayyyyyyyyyyyy so I got all dressed up and crimped my hair and glittered myself and met up with my peeps, all of whom looked fabulous, as you will see. And it was a lot of fun, despite how sober I was (guys. I was on the dance floor while in a state of Not Drunk and it wasn't terrible. I mean, it probably wasn't pretty, but I didn't have to see myself, so: win.)

Here is a sampling of the pics. I'm already excited to find out what next year's theme is so as to start building an ensemble. It's pretty much the most fun ever.



this is my current profile pic on facebook.
it's been pretty well received.
my vanity is appeased.


Me and Calee

Me and Shelly
Black, red, red, black
Matchy matchy!


Me and Local Maria
You can't really see it well from here, but she had some killer eye makeup going


This was before many others had consumed enough booze to join the dance floor.
Also, please note my AMAZING gold fanny pack.


Not long before this (mere days, even), Calee and I played the Michael Jackson Wii game.
If you play along to "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough"...
...then you will truly appreciate our dance moves.
Because we decided to replicate as much as we could remember.
To whatever song happened to be playing.


I sometimes wonder why I'm still single.
Then I see pictures like this, and remember.


I love this picture... even though there are two girls in our circle that I don't know.



So, there you have it. Prom 2011 = success.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

I think I forgot to put my groceries away and things might be melting, but this post is more important.

I am sure you are all dying to know how my car fiasco turned out, so I shall tell you.

I had them do only the bare minimum to keep my car from stranding me in a ball of flames in the middle of a busy intersection, which cost me only a fraction of the price that it was going to, and I have begun scouring the Internets for new vehicles that I might actually be able to, you know, afford. But the mechanics were very nice, even though I was probably a huge pain in the ass customer (hold off on doing anything yet... okay, go... okay, wait, stop, just do this... kthx.) The guy I talked to this morning was very pleasant and laughed at my jokes about how shitty my car was and even confessed that he hates cars for the same reason I do, and he even hates working on his own, because it gets to be expensive and frustrating. He admitted that that probably sounded bad coming from a mechanic, but hey. He shares my philosophy on vehicles. My kind of dude.

Anyway. So I now have transportation again, though I'm not sure how much I trust it, or how far I'd be willing to drive it, which sucks because I'm supposed to go visit my friend in Omaha on Wednesday to see Avenue Q (if you've never seen it? DO IT. You'll thank me later. Don't take anyone conservative or stodgy, though. Although it is terribly fun to see those people walk out in disgust.)

Also, I think the mechanic fixed my jacked up driver door for free... it's been making this godawful noise and something got bent a year or two ago when the wind got a hold of it and nearly ripped it off. But now it is quiet and smooth and I didn't realize how much force was required to open it until I got it back and was prepared to yank on it, but didn't need to. MAGIC!

Anyway. I have become very obsessive about car searching and I keep sending my dad links which he won't see until Sunday night at the earliest because he's not even home, but I am in no way comfortable buying a car without his assistance, so I just keep spamming him with things I find.

Speaking of spam, I had absolutely no idea that Daylight Savings was this weekend until I saw it mentioned in an unsolicited email from one of the vendors whose mailing lists I have ended up on that I am entirely to lazy to unsubscribe from. Why does nobody talk about these things anymore?! Honestly, I had NO IDEA. It doesn't help that I'm still not used to it being in March, it's so freaking early. Maybe nobody else knew it was this weekend either. I dunno. MOAR DAYLIGHT HOURS FTW! I like when it's not dark when I go home at night. Or at 4:30pm.

Of course, if that means it's now going to be dark when I wake up in the morning, that creates a whole other set of issues, because I have trouble waking up NOW when it's LIGHT OUT. Sigh.

Anyway, here is today's PSA:

Don't forget to change your clocks this weekend!!!!

Friday, March 11, 2011

I'm Noticing a Trend...

There was some sort of blog theme or meme or something from last December that I totally didn't do because I am lazy and was worn out from NaBloPoMo (just kidding, that was easy. I LIKE TO HEAR MYSELF TALK TYPE) and didn't want another month of prompts and daily guilt of not posting. So, whatever. My point was, there was this meme, and one that I remember seeing a lot was picking a word that summarizes 2010 for you, and picking a word that you hoped would summarize 2011.

I didn't give it much thought, but as we roll into the middle of the 3rd month of the year (holy shit, time flies when you're getting old), I've come to notice a trend for 2011.

My word for 2011 appears to be "new."

New outlook (happy!), new adventures (traveling for work! signing up for BiSC/Vegas in May on a complete and total whim at the behest of my instincts!), new hair color (ok, technically, this was from November, but I'm still getting used to it), new fitness regime + new weight loss plan (down 4lbs so far!), new laptop, new tv (again, from Christmas, STFU), new friends, new things to try, new ways to grow as a person, new sense of direction. Etc.

And, probably very soon, a new (to me) car.

With any luck, by the close of the year, a new dress size and maybe even a shiny new boy toy. (I'm banking that the new dress size will be the more likely of the two.)

I mean, there are some things that are old, that I plan to keep for a long time. Old friends, old job, old apartment. I don't really like the word "old" though. Especially since my friends seem to be catching up to me with the mid-20's quarterlife crisis bit (which I feel like I'm finally coming down from) But, you know. "Old" in the sense of merely being "not new."

You know what I mean. PUT DOWN THE WRINKLE CREAM, SPECIFIC FRIEND THAT I SHALL NOT NAME BUT YOU WILL KNOW THAT THIS IS ABOUT YOU. I AM NOT CALLING YOU OLD.

Anyway. I became aware of this pattern earlier and I have to say... I'm okay with it. Sometimes I'm good with change, sometimes I'm not. The status quo is comfortable. However... I'm starting to let go of my aversion to moving on, and re-focusing it on moving forward. And I'm okay with it.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

It's time...

...to start looking for a NEW pile of metal to start throwing my money at.

Whenever something breaks on my car (in my car), it costs much more than it would with any other model of car, because it is the biggest pain in the ass to fix anything in this POS, because to get to anything, you have to tear the entire engine apart because whoever designed it was probably drunk and dropped on the head several times as a small child.

BASICALLY, this: to fix all of the little things that are wrong with my car that could be potentially causing the problem: $1074. To skip part of those and hold off for later: $700-something.

You know how much I would get if I tried to sell my car right now (repairs notwithstanding)? Probably less than $1000. It's NOT WORTH IT ANYMORE.

Naturally, after I got the estimate from the mechanic and had a heart attack and died and then came back to life, I tried calling my dad. Multiple times. However, he is on vacation, visiting my great-aunt in Arizona. So I tried calling her. Then his gf. No luck on any front.

Because my dad is my car guru and I am incapable of making any sort of decision without his opinion.

So at some point this afternoon, I decided that, well, I need a car, that runs, somewhat reliably, and I told the mechanic to go ahead. They said they probably wouldn't finish until tomorrow. Whatever, one more day is not going to kill me.

Naturally, about two hours later, my dad calls me back and I read him the list of things wrong with it and he's like, "I can do all of those myself except for one." And then I facepalmed and shrieked that that was why I was trying to call him, OBVIOUSLY, and I wished I would have known that EARLIER and he put on his disapproving-parent voice that I would agree to repairs that cost that much and I'm like, "what else was I supposed to do?!" I needed a car!

So I call the mechanic to see if they've started yet, the technicians had left but the guy that answered said they'd started, but wasn't sure how far they'd gotten. I told them to not do anything else until they'd talked to me because at this point, I'm not sure I even want to fuck around with fixing it.

Because even if they fix all the things that need fixing, we're not really sure what's causing the problems of late. It could be a culmination of all of the little things, or it could be something else altogether. The computer diagnostics basically indicated that it was nothing major that could be identified, but the engine is really no greater than the sum of its parts, and if the parts are fucked, the engine is fucked.

Which means: I am fucked.

I spent a bit of time browsing around the Internet for cars and emailed possibilities to my dad to look into (I know even less about buying a car than I do about maintaining one) and then promptly curled into a ball and cried. Just kidding. I actually hadn't been at my desk all day because I'd been in meetings so I turned off the car-obsession switch and went into hyper work mode instead.

I can't really afford to get a super decent car, because I can't afford a car payment. Although I got my credit card statement in the mail today and I feel like I'm in the home stretch on those! Next month I will pay off one card in its entirety (yay!) and then be able to throw that payment toward the larger balance and then, maybe, just maybe, I'll be free of the damn things. Huzzah! Then we have student loans to worry about, but I figure I will be paying those off until I am ninety, so I'm not even going to think about those.

Anyway. BEING A GROWNUP IS SUPER AWESOME AND FUN.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Tales of a Pedestrian

Here in the part of the Midwest that I live in, public transportation really isn't a convenient option. And the town that I live in is very much a car town. The only way you can really get by without one is if you're a college student, living in the general campus area, where everything is easily accessible on foot (or bike, if you were one of the kamikaze cyclists that so pleasantly graced our university.)

If you're like me, though, there is no bus anywhere near your house, but it doesn't matter anyway, because there's no bus that goes anywhere near where you work.

Which means that when your car craps out on you, you have two choices: walk to work, or be at the mercy of everyone else's schedule to hitch rides. My old standbys of the neighbors that I happened to work with... kind of doesn't work anymore. One now works at our other location, and the other is now a stay at home mom. Beyond that... I really don't feel right asking people to bend their schedules around to fit mine, even though I know they totally would. I just hate being an inconvenience to people.

And it's not a bad walk, really. It's not quite a mile. It's, you know, exercise, blah blah. It's not that bad, it's not that far, and it's not like I'll have to do it that long.

It's also still not quite spring here.

Which means that last night's light rain turned into snow, and this morning I had to walk in the aftermath. Which had turned into slush.

If you're not familiar with slush... it's very slippery.

Yeah, I totally fell on my ass.

Not only did I fall on my ass, but falling into slush is pretty much akin to falling into a puddle. Ass-first.

I had to turn around, go home, change into dry pants, as well as new socks and boots (since they both got pretty soaked through also), and had to turn around and start my trek all over again.

It was kind of funny in hindsight.... but it wasn't funny at all at the time. Especially because it made me very late for work.

I'm hoping to have my car back tomorrow. FINGERS CROSSED.

Monday, March 7, 2011

ANGST. VERY SPECIFIC ANGST.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret. I haven't been skipping my tae kwon do class because I've been too busy at work. I mean, sometimes, sure. Frequently, it would be more accurate to say that it's because I'm tired, or merely unmotivated. Hey, I'm human.

But the real reason, as of late, is this: I am incredibly, incredibly frustrated at myself. I am intimidated, and I feel defeated.

My not-going is on par with waving the white flag at my inadequacy and my incompetency. Here, you win. I don't wanna play anymore.

I'm a quick learner. It's one of those things I've always prided myself on. Maybe it just comes in handy because I'm impatient, and when I want to know how to do something, I want to know now. So I learn quick. Even when I was moving through the ranks in TKD, I was much better at it than I am now. I got in a bad habit last winter when my SAD kicked in, and I let myself skip class a lot. A lot a lot. Excuses are easy to make, especially when you're at home passed out in your bed at 6:30pm. It was a hard habit to break, even when it got nice out again, even when I wasn't hiding from the world anymore. But I was always able to pick up where I left off, pull the puzzle pieces together, and catch right back up.

It was almost easier for me, that way. I didn't have to spend weeks learning bits and pieces of the forms at a slow and steady speed. I'd jump back in full-force near the end of a cycle, and learned it as a whole. Go big or go home. My body learned the movements and it became as simple as letting my brain relax and take over. Granted, I'm sure they weren't always the most beautiful, as more practice would have naturally led to more finesse, but they were always fine, more than fine, in the technical sense.

I miss those days.

It was like a switch got thrown when I got my black belt. One of those overly huge, almost comedically so, power switches that you see in a movie or on tv, where the hero/ine has to throw all his or her strength against it to pull or push it in the way it needs to be flipped. A visible bolt of electricity runs down the power line. High voltage.

It's a big switch.

They say the first hardest thing about becoming a black belt is learning to re-tie your belt. The black belt is longer and requires a special technique to tie properly. Not like the color belts. Wrap it around your waist. Right over left, left over right. Tighten. Done. Not anymore. The black belts require a tutorial, a lesson. Possibly on repeat.

This was actually the easy part for me. Once I was taught how to do it, I practiced a couple times, and voila! Belt'd.

Maybe this wouldn't be so scary after all. First challenge = nailed.

The second hardest thing is that it becomes exponentially more difficult, and they say it's more than common for you to feel like a white belt all over again.

I won't deny this. Except it's worse than being a white belt. Because as a white belt, you're not expected to know anything, let alone everything, and you're constantly learning and improving and you are completely, blissfully unaware of how far you have yet to go. It's awkward to do and awkward to watch, but it's what happens when you start something new. And you can laugh about it and stumble through it and you get there sooner than you think.

It was a better ignorance than what I am feeling now.

It's still awkward, but in a different way. Less "this feels ridiculous" and more "why can't I get my body to move that way? Everyone else can..." It's awkward because the movements are awkward; they are suddenly foreign and everything feels wrong. And it's much more serious, now. It's harder to laugh at yourself. Stakes are higher; more is expected of you. And rightfully so. Everyone knows that a black belt is a Big Deal. Even if they know nothing else of martial arts, or the progression of colors in the ranks, they know that the black belt is what you aspire to.

And suddenly, you are supposed to have mastered your art. When in reality? Oh, you have so much more to learn.

I feel like I know less than I did. That all the steps to get here were deceptively simple. I had a grand old time on the ride here, but now that I've arrived at my destination, I just want to go home. Why did I ever think I could do this? I don't belong here.

I feel so far behind. I've now got myself trapped in this vicious cycle where I am getting myself behind by not going to class... but I'm not going to class because I feel so painfully behind. The answer would, then, to go to class as often as possible and try to get caught up. Easy, right?

But nights like tonight, I get through the first fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, and I can feel the tears pooling up behind my eyes. I feel like I'm flailing around like an idiot; I don't know anything, the pace is way too fast, because everyone else is much more dedicated or talented than I am. They seem to get it immediately. I struggle. I don't mind that I struggle; I don't expect to be good at this. (I used to be good at it. I've had to make peace with that. I could have been really good, if I'd been able to scrape up the dedication to it. But work, and life, and varying mental states have all gotten in the way. Oh, what could have been.) I do expect to at least be competent. I've made it this far, right?

But no. I want them to take away my black belt. Tell me I don't deserve it. Come back and try again when you're ready. Start over. From the top.

I feel so very, very worthless.

I was never going to be one of those people that went long enough to earn my black belt and then quit. And I'm still not. I'm going to work through this, however slowly, and maybe someday, eventually, I'll get there. But today, as we were working through a drill, I just wanted to cry, and to give up. I can't make my body do the things it's supposed to be doing. My brain gets it. I get what I am supposed to be doing. I just can't... do it.

The potential is there. At least, it used to be. I was aware of it a long time ago. This was something I could be good at.

But I gave up on myself long before I realized that that was what I was doing.

So, now, the reason I don't go to class isn't because I have to work late - though I will, frequently, work late just to have an excuse - but because the though of going, and failing, makes me want to curl into a little ball. I dread it. I dread looking - or worse, feeling - like an incompetent fool, helplessly trying to imitate what everyone else is doing.

I'm just making it worse by not going. I know this. It's practically textbook self-handicapping. I can't improve if I don't try. But the trying, the attempt, is so uncomfortably miserable at this stage, you can see why I am so tempted to avoid it altogether.

Yes, I know, it's such a girl thing, to get all emotional about this. I bet none of the men in the class want to cry when they can't master a move, can't get their kick right. I never used to. I'd get annoyed at myself, and keep trying, and then I'd get it. I could play with the boys. I was just as tough, just as persistent. Our master instructor told me once that I broke boards like a guy. The women generally tend to overthink it, obsess about placement, technique. I just powered through the damn thing. Hit it hard, hit it right, it's broken. I actually took that as a compliment. It is, after all, still a predominantly male sport.

It's not even the point. It's not even the issue. I've always felt like an equal in the class, and our class is actually pretty evenly split, gender-wise. There are some things that I simply don't have the physical strength to do, sure - I'm not built that way. Who cares? Nobody. You do what you can do. There are no limitations, there are just other ways to do it.

But I feel like the lamest person in the world, for wanting to cry in class. At multiple intervals. I can't remember if this has ever happened before. Severe frustration, yes... but tonight my brain bypassed any self-loathing and self-irritation and went straight to tears. Well, to almost-tears.

I'm not actually sure what would happen if I actually did cry. I'm guessing it would be awkward. Sitting here on my couch, completely removed from the situation, I'm actually kind of amused at the thought.

I don't know. I really don't. I just keep typing and typing in the hopes that maybe I'm making sense, even to myself. It's all my own fault, I know that. I don't have excuses. I have fear and I have self-doubt. And they've led me here, to this miserable Monday evening, questioning why I'm still doing this, when it clearly doesn't bring me happiness anymore.

But I don't want to quit. I just want to... be better. I want it to be fun again. And, fine, it's only fun when I feel like I'm getting it, when I feel like a badass, when I feel strong and competent and skilled. I admit that. It's not fun when I struggle, when I compare myself to everyone else, when I doubt every move I make. It's fun when I'm with everyone else, not trailing behind. It's fun when I feel like I belong.

I guess I just want - need - to know that I can reach that place again. If not, then what's the point?

Sunday, March 6, 2011

And she says "Baby, it's 3 AM, I must be lonely..."

Ok, it's not quite 3am, but it IS 2:45 and I am sitting on my couch and I am JUST NOW getting to the point where I am getting tired enough to go to bed. I went out and had a coffee-like beverage with friends at, like, 8 or so, then we went to Target, then I came home. And then I watched two movies. And then I poked around at my Netflix queue for 45 minutes. I considered doing some actual writing but then I got distracted by the grapes I bought at the grocery store earlier (NOM) and, well, the aforementioned Netflix queue. WHY I even need Netflix is beyond me, because I own somewhere in the neighborhood of 200+ movies, a handful of which I've never even SEEN, but I guess the novelty is gone. Seriously. I have a problem.

I actually have two problems, I guess, given that I am STILL AWAKE. I must have gone on some sort of inadvertent caffeine hiatus, even though I've been drinking lots of diet sodas lately (ZERO POINTS WHEE), because I have never, ever been this affected by a measly tall chai latte before. I didn't even think chai had that much caffeine in it. (fun fact: it was only 5 points, too! JOY!). Apparently it does. Who knew?

Anywho. Not much going on at Almost-3am. I can hear sirens outside somewhere. It's almost like I live in a real city or something. I think I actually heard them more when I lived in the dorms. Granted, that's probably because we were right along the major road through town + across the street from the bars. Just a guess. Nowadays, all I ever hear are the trains. Which run approximately every eight minutes. Seriously, it's ridiculous. They make my apartment shake sometimes. Someday, when I'm really bored, I'm going to keep track of how often they actually DO come, and see if I can discern a pattern. It'll be a bit harder since they passed some sort of ordinance so they can't blow their horn at this particular intersection (the one that's two blocks from my apartment). On one hand, I kind of appreciate that (not that the trains go unnoticed, but, still, it's a little bit less obnoxious now).... on the other? It just seems like there's something unsafe about no train whistles. I dunno.

OMG MY CAT IS SUCH AN ATTENTION WHORE. She is trying to crawl all over me at the moment. I thought cats were supposed to sleep all the time. She's all up in my space like a drunken frat boy. (She totally just touched me inappropriately too. OH GOD I JUST GOT FELT UP BY MY CAT.) Someone please send help.

*cough*

So. Yes. If anyone needs me tomorrow I'll probably be passed out well into the early afternoon. The great thing about my particular brand of insomnia, caffeine-induced or otherwise, is that once I actually FALL asleep, I generally do a terrific job of STAYING asleep. For long periods of time. I sometimes think I sleep better in daylight than at night. This makes me an excellent napper. LIFE SKILLS. I'm going to be the best napper in my nursing home someday. I'll have had a lifetime of practice. Right now I'm better at duration rather than frequency, but it's something I can work on.

Right, so... I don't even know what this post is. I'm going to bed now. Or something. Toodles.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

And then I ate three cookies and a brownie.

So I had kind of a shitty day. I even wrote this actual thoughful post about something else and then I didn't post it and now I'm not going to today because WHAT THE FUCK, UNIVERSE.

Firstly, I was incredibly overwhelmed all day at work, which, you know, happens, a lot, it's fine, but I could FEEL my stress levels rising. It didn't help that I was starving all day because now that I've joined Weight Watchers I feel guilty about eating ANYTHING and it's taking quite a bit of adjusting to get myself to comfortably be within my designated point target each day. BECAUSE I LIKE FOOD AND I'M USED TO EATING LOTS OF IT WHICH IS WHY I ENDED UP GETTING FAT IN THE FIRST PLACE. But I digress.

So after work I had some time to kill before a meeting so I pulled my prom pics out of my dropbox folder and loaded them to facebook. Then I started captioning and tagging them and for some reason my browser window decided to hit the back button or something and it didn't save any of my work and I got cranky and was like FINE and started over. Half an hour later, I'm running late to said meeting, and I've made significant progress in the re-tagging, re-captioning and BAM! It does it again. I am beyond frustrated at this point because I JUST WASTED A HALF AN HOUR and so I'm like, fuck it, I'll go home and get my laptop and something to eat and bring them both with me to this meeting and I can finish it there and everything will be grand.

And it was. Until I got in my car and pulled into the neighbor's driveway to turn around. Put my car back in drive and move like a foot and it FUCKING DIES ON ME.

I sit there, stunned for a minute, and I'm like, well, that's fucked up, so I turn off my car and this time it WON'T RESTART and the entire ass of my car is in the MIDDLE OF THE STREET and I'm like, all right, well, don't panic, and my neighbor's lights were on but I wasn't sure if they were home because the car wasn't there, and I brilliantly left my cell phone on my bed when I dumped out my bag to put my laptop in it (of course) and so I put it in neutral and try to push it.

Fun fact: I can totally push my car. by myself.

Except it's pretty useless if there's no one to steer it also.

So I get back in my car and try to restart and restart and nothing happens, it starts to turn over but gives up, the battery and oil light both come on, which is weird (I'm barely over needing an oil change, yes, but I've gone much longer than this before and it was FINE), and I don't THINK it was the alternator or any such because I've experienced that before and all the other gizmos (lights, radio, etc) were working just fine and dandy. The only thing NOT happening is that I push the accelerator to the floor and NOTHING HAPPENS.

After a few tries, it magically starts and I get excited and put it in drive and it promptly dies again. Then I bang my head against the steering wheel and start to feel panicky and am trying to determine what the fuck I am going to do that doesn't involve leaving my car in the middle of the street and somehow it magically starts again only this time it stays started long enough to pull it up alongside the curb and park it properly.

I stomp back into my apartment (stomp = crawled defeatedly) and slump down by the door and realize I have NO phone numbers for the meeting I'm supposed to be at so I send them an email and figure I'm in for the night. Then I start crying, because I HATE CARS ESPECIALLY THIS ONE and then I call my dad and he's no help at all and I'm too afraid to try and drive this car to a mechanic because who knows if it's going to die right away again, and I was lucky enough for it to be on my quiet street, but what if it was on a busy one? I can't check my oil or anything under the hood because OF COURSE IT IS DARK OUT so I'm pretty stuck. I might have to have it towed, THANK GOD FOR TRIPLE A.

So then I eat my yogurt that I had in my bag and start tagging my facebook pictures again because what else am I going to do, and my awesome neighbor calls me (she was home after all) and was asking if I was on my way to get food or somewhere else, and then told me she had dessert for me if I wanted it, which I TOTALLY DID and I went downstairs and FUCK MY POINTS, there were FRESH BAKED GOODS in my hands.

And now I totally feel guilty and I'm still hungry but I'm way past points to eat today and I'm fucking sick of fruit which is zero points and I am probably doomed to fail and now I kind of just want to curl up and cry again, AND I need to figure out how I'm getting to and from work tomorrow because it's just not quite warm enough yet to walk.

I want a hug.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Prom! Sorta.

So remember how I was all "I'll recap prom on Sunday WITH PICTURES unless I'm hungover"? And then I didn't? Guess what, I wasn't hungover at all, just really, really lazy. And then my laziness carried over into yesterday. Which is when I finally plugged my camera into my computer to load the pictures. But then I HAD to fix all the red-eye because, hi, I'm anal-retentive. And Photoshop was taking like six hours to load the groups of ten that I tried to open at a time and I was all "this is taking forevvverrrr so I should try to open them ALL so I can go do something else while I'm waiting" so then I did try to open them all and my elderly laptop was all OMG WTF and tried its very darndest to accommodate me but then I fell asleep and when I woke up two hours later it was STILL GOING so I gave up and went to bed. Which I was technically already in from the two-hour nap I took. You know what I mean.

Which is to say, I'm getting there.

I will say this: it was fun. I was disappointingly sober, because the coveted prom punch (this year = vodka + lemonade) was disappointingly weak, and then after it was gone I only had a beer, maybe a beer and a half, and was like, fuck it, this shit is not worth wasting all my points on. So I was sober. And everything in my wake was covered in glitter because I failed at my attempt to make durable glitter shoes like Katherine's.

Also, as Megs so astutely noticed, as she was apparently stalking me via tagged pictures belonging to other people on facebook (as previously mentioned, mine are not up yet) that I was, in fact, not wearing a red dress like I said I was going to. It is true. I inadvertently lied to you all.

Here is why: it did not fit. Not even a little.

Well, a little.

But not enough to zip it up. Which, in my book, being able to zip a dress is the actual definition of it fitting.

Which I suppose is my own damn fault for assuming that a dress I wore two years ago would still fit. IT DID NOT. I found this out about ten minutes before Local Maria was supposed to pick me up and there was a small shower of obscenities while I struggled with it, temporarily thought that maybe she could help me zip it when she got here (this is while I was in the denial stage), realized that, no, there is no voodoo magic in the world that could get the two pieces to connect to even try to zip, ripped it off in a moment of frustration and fury (I think I went through all of the actual stages of grief in this period) and then ran to my closet for an Emergency Plan B which I had not actually considered.

It was completely out of the question to wear either of the two previous prom dresses. I shan't repeat a dress! Never! That, and they wouldn't have matched my mask anyway. THREE DOLLAR MASK TRUMPS ALL.

Plus, I had to be able to wear this:

That is exactly what you think it is.

So I pulled out a black dress I bought at Target and hadn't worn yet, decided it would work, decorated it with accessories, and then sprayed the bejeesus out of myself with glitter spray that I so wisely bought at Victoria's Secret during the last semi-annual sale. I reeked of cosmetics for the rest of the night.

Also: hair crimping.

It was bad-ass. I sorta wish it would come back into style. I have an authentic crimper from the 80s. True story.

So yeah. I was going to end up talking about something else too but I've rambled enough so tomorrow I will tell you all about my adventures with trying to lose weight. And by tomorrow, I clearly mean "whenever I get around to it" because as this weekend goes to show you, I can no longer be held accountable for posts when I will say I will post them.

C'est la vie, and shit.

xoxo