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Nearing the end of the saga

2011-12-31T10:47:00.002-08:00

Ugh. This woman who broke up with me friend-wise is insane. Knowing she is also a therapist bothers me to no end.

Earlier this month she sent me an email breaking off our friendship. She's a very cold and business-like woman and her handling of the situation was the same. In a stroke of unfortunate luck, it looked like the two of us were going to be part of a consulting group together. I wasn't looking forward to it.

Yesterday I ultimately decided that, with the next meeting coming up in a few days, I didn't want to be part of the group, with her being the biggest reason. So I sent the group an email telling them that I would not be attending and wishing them luck in their practices.

Today I get an email from the woman telling me how sad she was that I wouldn't be part of the group and that she was seeing the group as a way for her and I to reconnect. She then asked for my help with a new client of hers.

So what did I do in response? I found that Gmail has a feature where you can filter messages coming from any specific email address and immediately delete them. Her address is now on that filter. I also finally packed up her "friendship ball" that she ordered back from me and am sending it out in the mail today.

Good riddance.

Kan-yes my sister is famous. :)

2011-12-13T01:24:00.001-08:00

It is the weirdest thing in the world. My sister gets all famous with her amazing creativity and suddenly my blog that once enjoyed many many readers and then was a barren wasteland of two and three page clicks a day suddenly shot up over 100 hits in one day. I'm pretty sure that all the traffic to my sister's website about the creative thing she's done with someone's less than or equal to 140 character missives has brought them to me.

So, to everyone who got here from my creative sister's website: Yes, this is a cognitive heady blog that has a lot of emotional processing as part of it. Enjoy it for what it is. Or, head on back to my sister's for the creative funny stuff. That's why she's labeled me as the "smart one". :)

Namaste.

Julie

Le Sigh

2011-12-10T23:26:00.000-08:00

Clients were pouring in for a few weeks there and I was getting super excited that I was going to be full any time now! But then I just went an entire week without even an email from a new client. Sigh. I did find out that, otherwise, I'm pretty far ahead of the game. So I guess that's okay. And I may get to use my nannying hours for a portion of my licensing hours.

I was pleased earlier today to read what seems like an annual news story that Angelina Jolie has only a few friends and doesn't hang out with them very much. Yet another thing she and I have in common!!! K, that and our brown hair are the only two things. But still.

I also started writing the outline for a book on loneliness. What its use is, what are different forms of it, what it contributes to, the shame surrounding it, etc. I hope to have it published within two years. I hope to have it written within a year.

I am hoping to come up with another topic for a book soon, too. Since I've leapt headlong into this whole being a therapist thing, I figure that I might as well dive into other things I've been wanting to do. And that's what's coming up in my head as the most doable thing on my list.

Another sign of my continued growth

2011-11-30T02:07:00.000-08:00

So, ever since last year when I went to an obnoxious "girly gathering" and was told that I was required to come back because I won the "friendship ball" I've been dreading the concept that I would have to come back. The woman who hosted the event last year (and has for ten years) is pretty shallow and calls everything "amazing." My husband and I have made a running joke out of it for several months now. "This cheese is AMAZING!! It's cheesy and milky. Wow, it's so amaaaazing." "My hair the other day was AMAAAAZING. It laid on my head and looked like it covered my head. It was amaaaazing." "Have you seen that new movie in the movie theater? It was, seriously guys, AMAZING. I can't even tell you how amazing it was." That type of annoyingness got on my nerves all through graduate school.

So why did I remain "friends" with this woman throughout school if I found her so "amazingly" irritating? Because it felt nice to be in the "in" crowd. It was good to be known as cool simply because of who I hung out with. It was nice to not have deep conversations with any meaning. Okay, I tried to convince myself of that last one. But still.

She constantly told me how I was "so important" to her and "like a best friend" to her. I never really bought it, but I went ahead and tried to convince myself that I could change her. That I could make her become down to earth. That I could get her past all the self-conceit and mold her into a decent human being. Sigh.

I've mentioned before that my friendship troubles tend to be similar to the troubles that single people I know have with romantic partners. They constantly hang around people who intellectually sound like they could be good partners, but in reality they hate their guts or find so many faults with them that it's worthless to try to keep a relationship going. I found far too many faults with this woman and yet I kept thinking that there were many things that made her a good friend. Most notably that she referred to herself as "an AMAZING friend". That should have been my tip off.

So, right after graduation, we all went to dinner (this woman, me, and two other women in our study group). The three of them went on and on about how meaningful the group had been, yada yada yada...and how we'd be "best friends" forever. I remember thinking, "But I don't WANT to be friends with you for that long. Is this what I'm doomed to? Good lord I hope not." But I nonetheless believed that they would all try to continue our friendships.

Woman A: I rarely talked with her in school and never really liked her. I haven't heard a word from her since graduation (five months ago) except when I ran into her at a restaurant. It was awkward.
Woman B: We loved each other at first, then she discovered woman C and I became leftover mashed potatoes. I found lots of faults with her and her drama wore on me constantly. We IM sometimes, but she'll go weeks without chatting with me and then send me a random email about how I wronged her.
Woman C (the woman who threw the party last year): Hasn't sent one social email to me since graduation. Constantly sends me evites to her stupid workshops for her business that I would not be caught dead going to. No one cares about what she's preaching...and I sincerely hope no one ever gets hurt from her ineptitude. She sent me an email a month ago bitching at me because I didn't invite her to be part of a website I started (even though I was able to show her the note showing that I did).

There have been times over the past few months when thinking about this holiday party (of which she said that once we were invited once we were always invited) that I have been dreading the thought of going anywhere near it. I've tried to come up with polite ways to tell her that I want nothing to do with her and her weird alcoholic friends. I went over a million different ways of hinting to her that I wasn't planning on attending. And then I got an email earlier today.

In it, she said that though she felt really awkward she wasn't going to invite me to her holiday party because our friendship "didn't pan out the way" she expected it to and her friends just told her that they were "deeply irritated" that I was texting through their god-awful stories of the year's events. I don't remember texting, but I do remember wishing I weren't there. I also distinctly remembered not feeling welcome the whole time I was there. Probably wasn't a good sign that all the pictures I was in that I saw of myself from the night show me being majorly irritated and bored out of my mind.

And you know what that email felt like for me? Relief. I wrote her back essentially telling her that I didn't like where our friendship had gone and that it wasn't serving me anymore. And that I was struggling with a way to tell her that I didn't want to attend her thing anyway. And that I didn't enjoy last year's party in any way.

And I felt liberated.

For several weeks now I've been starting to see this thing in myself where I tell myself that I'm broken or that there's something wrong with me. And that THAT's why I don't have a lot of close friends. And THAT's why these meaningless relationships don't do anything for me. But I'm rewriting all of those old scripts for myself. Those friendships don't work BECAUSE they are not meaningful. And no amount of "fixing" of me is going to pump depth into the shallow friendships that I've for years wished would work out. So what am I doing about it?

Continuing in my quest to only accept and continue with friendships that serve my highest good and my highest potential...and that nourish the highest good of all people. Good thing I found that sangha, eh?

Turducken

2011-11-23T14:41:00.000-08:00

This year has been weird. So much has happened. And yet I think I have so little to show for it.

At the beginning of the year, my amazing dad breathed his last breath. I've read that the biggest part of grief takes about six months to get past. But there isn't a lot of talk about what happens after that. It's been close to 11 months since the living part of his life cycle stopped. I've done so much thinking this year about death and about what it means for us as people. Having considered myself to be Buddhist for more than half my life, this year I've also deepened my commitment to Buddhism. I've joined a sangha with some world-famous authors leading it who have their work praised by Baba Ram Dass, HH The Dalai Lama, and others. With them, I'm strengthening my understanding of just what death is in relation to us as people.

Within this framework, I've heard and read some amazingly intriguing points of view surrounding death. One of them is the concept that outside of consciousness, both time and space do not exist as they are both concepts created by our consciousness to understand the world around us. It takes a bit of wrapping your brain around that one for it to make any sense. I think it challenges our understanding of what a "concept" is. The second is that death and life are also only concepts formulated by the conscious mind. Both of those, I believe, can also be found in the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. It's available online in pdf format for free...pretty easy to find if you're interested.

My dreams have been intense the last couple of months, too. Ever since I met these two spiritual gurus, actually. They term what I've gotten as "dharma downloads" or spiritual teachings of the way things are in intense format. I must say that while I'm receiving them they make SO MUCH sense. And then when I try to explain them to my waking mind, they're inconceivably complex. Fortunately, at least one of these dreams has allowed me to have contact with my dad again. In the dream, he was dressed in a white suit and we were sitting at a gathering of very loving and friendly people. I encouraged him that, since he had now passed on, he could go outside to dance and not feel the pain in his back, leg, or the rest of his body felt during his last few years. He told me that, while he understood that, he wasn't quite ready to accept that he could move unobstructedly. In other words, he is carefully allowing him to slowly transition to his new freedom.

It was the first dream I can remember of him (since his death) in which I had full understanding and awareness that he was no longer living. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't sad. I simply accepted his presence with the understanding that my rational mind no longer has telephone conversations with him. Now, it's my spiritual presence and my subconscious who get to interact with him. I'll take what I get.

Beyond this spiritual commitment and death awareness (five friends died this year, one of whom I was close with at the time of her death), I have also had a career shift. In June I graduated from my Master's program and left my internship. I spent much of the summer applying to part-time jobs and feeling depressed. I understand that depression after a big goal like finishing school or writing a book is very normal. In the middle of September I opened my door to my business. It's frustratingly slow to acquire clients but I seem to be gaining some momentum. At present, it looks like I have four or five clients...I've had several others who have set up appointments and simply never shown up. Not everyone is paying my full fee, but since I am getting some great continued training (in my career we constantly get trained by our clients) I am okay with where I am at in this process.

I've also decided that I'm no longer accepting friendships that don't serve me in some way. The girly girls of my graduate school essentially stopped talking to me once we graduated and it was clear to them that there is truly nothing we have in common. I've met some other friends, some through Burning Man and some through friends or the Dharma, but all of them who are down to earth enough that we can have conversations that actually mean something to me.

I guess I've just discovered through writing this post that, although this year is disturbingly weird...I've also become a closer version to the person I want to be. But damn these have been hard lessons.

Burn The Man

2011-09-12T13:40:00.000-07:00

So I got back from Burning Man a few days ago. It was disappointing in the sense that I didn't get any huge resounding new truths about myself, nor did I get any huge new resounding truths about people in general. I did get to see that I normally focus most of my decision making on my emotions. And that surprised me.

How did I get to see that? you may ask. Well, when it's 100 degrees in the shade from 10am to 5pm your body sends all sorts of signals to you that you're not having a good time. In fact, to the anxious members of society (like me) it sends signs that you're soon to die and/or go completely insane within minutes. Luckily I had my trusty Xanax to assure at least one of those wouldn't happen.

And then I realized that I was operating on the premise that my body was still back in Washington and wasn't being subjected to really harsh conditions. So I started drinking more water. And at some point I actually started to have a good time.

By the time I got back home I had been through about 10 days of temperature and environment torture and I was aching for life to feel normal again. Luckily, today it's close to feeling that way. But I got some insight into why I find myself disappointed often with a lot of people. It's that the way people were at Burning Man - open and honest and willing to be themselves completely - is how I expect people to be in general.

If you're a cranky person, be cranky. Stop denying it! If you don't like something I say, say it! If you think I'm awesome, say it! So, it's up to me now to figure out how I can bring the ethos of Burning Man back to my everyday life.

And at the same time, I'm seeking clients for my practice, part-time work to keep me occupied while my client list builds, and that elusive best friend I've been searching for for years. At least two out of the three of those are bound to happen within a month or two. I can just feel it. Unless that's gas.

You gotta have frieeeeendship!

2011-08-11T13:30:00.000-07:00

I can't remember when (and I'm too lazy to look through my archives), but at some point I put out to the universe that I was interested in having a best friend. The last time I had one was right before I met my husband (over six years ago!). It could be argued that there are three women who I met from school who refer to me as a school-BFF. So, technically I guess I have three BFFs, though they're not quite what I was trying to find.

So maybe I didn't quite make myself clear to the universe about what I wanted. I guess what I want is something similar to my husband but in female form...and there'd be no sex involved. That might be a duh/derp statement, but the universe she is a tricky thing. I want a BFF who I can talk to when I need a pick me up, or to brag about my latest achievement, or to philosophize, or to go hang out with and watch movies or drink beer or something. I want a BFF who helps encourage me. And, for the record, I would do all this back for her as well.

Remember in childhood when friendships were easy? When you talked to a person a lot and suddenly she was your best friend? And now it's so much more complicated. I can be in a deep conversation with someone I know super well and be really excited about what we're talking about. And then I may start thinking of what I hope will happen in our friendship and then she'll say, "Well, my best friend says..." and I suddenly lose my friendship boner.

Best friends come and go in my life and I've had several of them. I think what I want is for a permanent best friend who lives fairly close, thinks I'm brilliant and funny, and is brilliant and funny herself. She's got to be out there, universe.

Back to where I started. But sooner this time.

2011-07-08T22:55:00.000-07:00

So, the past few months have been pretty hard on me. I lost my dad to death. I lost my mentee to death. I lost the job I thought I'd have to integrity (me having some). I finished my graduate program and now have a Master's degree. Of course I have that and a part time job in which I am skeptical I will make worthwhile money.

I went there this morning to sign the paperwork to start working there at a very low amount of money. It's practically minimum wage. But some of the hours I work will be able to count toward my licensure. So there's that. But I felt like an idiot being there. It sounds like a whole bunch of trouble for not a lot of money. It's in stark contrast to the job I had prior to grad school where I made a ton of money but dealt with a boss with a sociopathic and psychopathic streak. It was scary. And abusive.

So fast forward to now. I came home from the position today and I started crying. Like seriously crying. Like, "Why is existence so hard?" type crying. And that was the final straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. I went to the doctor to get back on some time of pharmaceutical help.

I tried talking the doctor into the idea that I'm only anxious, not anxious and depressed. Which makes me wonder why I was doing that. And after a while of admitting that I've been lethargic lately and my appetite for junk food has increased and I'm sleeping more, I finally admitted that I think i'm depressed too. It was tough to deny it, since I was weeping practically the entire time at the doctor's. Weeping. Like, I had to grab a tissue or two weeping. What the hell?

So, she's getting me started on something for now and we'll see how it goes. I'm not excited about being on these drugs again, but I'm happy that I can finally have some hope that I will have some energy to do something in my life soon enough.

So, we'll see if this gives me energy. Sigh.

Fireworks and conseling

2011-05-03T20:01:00.000-07:00

The following blog was written by me about two or three months before I started the current grad program I am nearing the end of. At some point I made many of my posts private and then made the whole blog private. As I look through some old posts that are private, I am finding some that make me think I'm a nerd. So I am sharing them here. :)

Originally dated July 2009
Fireworks are a lot like counseling in several ways. I will list them below:

Fireworks are very expensive. So is counseling.
Fireworks sometimes get most exciting at the end of the experience. So does counseling.
Fireworks kind of look like brain cells. Counseling works to "rewire" brain cells.
Fireworks require significant training and school to make right. So does counseling.
Fireworks is a store in Westlake. Counseling is not.
Fireworks are amazing to watch when done right. So is counseling.
Fireworks put a thud deep within your chest. So does counseling.
Fireworks mark great celebrations. Counseling is a celebration of life.
Fireworks are best enjoyed with others. So is counseling.
Fireworks are outlawed in most places. Counseling sometimes has a stigma (though that is diminishing).
Fireworks can be seen from far away. The effects from counseling are far reaching.
Fireworks, for safety reasons, generally take place on a barge. Counseling does not.
Fireworks bear their soul at the moment when they are most visible. Counseling allows people to bear their soul in a way that is visible and safe.
Fireworks can be dangerous in the wrong hands. So can counseling.
Fireworks require good timing. So does counseling.
Fireworks provide a chance to ask someone to marry you. Counseling is there when you realize marriage takes work.
Fireworks happen at Disneyland in the summer. Many people who need counseling visit Disneyland.
Fireworks draw a large crowd to Gasworks park on July 4th. Many of those people need counseling.

That's about all I have for now, mostly because I have to work. :)

Aaaaaaannnnddd.....I'm back!

2011-05-03T19:51:00.000-07:00

Hello world again. It's been....um...about three months since the last time I updated this. And around that time it turned into a blobby sack of sadness and angst. Well, I got a lot of that out and I'm back for offering you more of my inane blabber. So, for all two of you who still read this...I missed you. :)

What's new?

Well, I'm 48 days away from graduating. And I learned how to quilt. And I took my old job back. And I'm now in deep debt.

Expiring

2011-01-28T11:07:00.000-08:00

It's not even yet been three weeks since my dad died, and already I surprise myself when I burst into racking sobs. It's not like I think that I should be done grieving (in no way do i think that) and it's not like I don't understand my own sadness (for creator's sake I'm a therapist!). And it's not like there's not a huge hole in my heart from his living presence now being gone (there's a strong spiritual presence now, but it's not the same). I think it's mostly that I see the rest of the world going on about their lives and in some ways it doesn't make sense.

I see myself far more entwined in this cyclical nature of life now. The world just simply feels and looks completely different for me. I value my time with friends, family, classmates, and my clients in a way that holds the ephemeral-nature of it all. The cliche that 'life is short' is spoken so often because it's so true. We get involved in daily life and we get focused on accomplishing goals, on making dinner, on designing our living spaces. And then we catch sight of ourselves in the mirror and the gray hair has mated with the other gray hair. Or we see our parents (or a new photo of our parents) and they've suddenly become this iconic image of an old person (even though everything about them is our parent still). Or we lose a parent to death.

And suddenly the world all at once slows down and speeds up. We take an extra breath when a minor annoyance happens and some stupid things we cared about no longer matter (at least for now). Twenty minutes turns into an hour, then a day, and then almost three weeks. How did the time move so quickly when I'm moving so slowly?

So if everyone else in the world is moving forward with their life, even though they're checking in on my grief and how I'm staying okay, is there going to be a time when my grief no longer makes sense to them? Is there an expiration date on grief over life expiring?

Yesterday I was in class and I saw, for the first time since the night directly preceding my dad's death, the same professor who told me I needed to fly to Florida to be with my family. At the start of class, he brought up that fact. For twenty minutes we discussed what life has been like for me in the past three weeks. Though I told myself I wouldn't, I weeped at one point. Not sobs, not crying...just calm tears as I recounted spending time with my family, seeing my dad's body, flying home, and the time since.

In June of last year (2010) he lost his father, only seven months ago. This professor is in his early sixties and his father was in his late eighties. I told him that I wished I had as much time with my dad as he had with his (we're encouraged complete honesty in school...no polite holding back). And he said,"It still wasn't enough. I also feel too young to have lost my dad." Somehow him saying that comforted me. And then he added, "And you know what? It still hurts today just as bad as it did the day he died."

In his twenties he lost his mother to breast cancer and he says that still feels the same, too. He is essentially now an orphan. Somehow in that moment the two of us bonded. When I first met him and experienced his presence in class, I thought he was one of the most irritating and self-referential pricks I had ever met. I still kind of think that, but over the past year and a half that I've been taught by him, I see that he and I are one and the same. Sure, in the Buddhist all-are-one sense, but also in the subjective separate-personality sense.

Maybe my grief never really will end. Maybe I'll be able to paint again or read books or exercise. But for right now this ache remains. I just hope that when I move forward and the ache no longer sits center stage, that I move forward with the respect and admiration for my dad's life that he deserves. I miss you so much, Dad. I really do.

I'll miss you and I love you.

2011-01-10T18:51:00.000-08:00

I understand the definition of anguish now.

2011-01-10T00:09:00.000-08:00

From the waves drowning me in sorrow, to the pure unadulterated simple and complete feeling of pain, to the sobbing, to the outpouring of support from everyone I know, to buying plane tickets to visit my stepmom the now-widow, to seeing his eyes in mine in the mirror, to not having one clue about how I am going to move forward.

At about 12:30am yesterday (almost 24 hours ago), I felt extreme pain throughout my being and then an extreme sense of peace and love flooded through me. I questioned the universe whether that was my dad passing out of his human experience. About 34 minutes later, my stepmom called me and said the following: "Hi sweetie, I have a feeling you already felt this about half an hour ago, so I'm going to confirm what you already know. Your sweet, loving dad, gently and peacefully left his human body at about 12:30am."

He is the most loving, intelligent, beautiful person I have ever known. And he is no longer alive. And I am one of the most devastated people the world has ever witnessed. I will miss him every day of my life. In the time he was here, though, he taught me that he when he expired his energy would disperse throughout the universe and he would always be with me, protecting me and guiding me.

I know he has been in severe pain for at least the last six or so months. I know he has been in at least moderate pain for the past several years. I love him more than I can express. Oh my god this hurts so badly.

This has to stop

2010-12-16T16:43:00.000-08:00

For a long time I have emerged myself in the corporate world: a soulless, evil place where money is prized above all else and nothing is special. There are abhor-able words/phrases, though, such as: "the bottom line"; "at the end of the day"; and "win-win." (You can find more here if you wish.)

And now that I am in the mental health/social work field, I am finding the same caliber of inane hackneyed irritations, only now they are more sappy. Case in point: a friend of mine is leaving my internship today as his year of service is ending, while I still have six or so more months to go. His supervisor (who is also mine) gifted him a funny divining deck (long story) and also some "wish stones."

Now, I'm all for wish stones because they at least help a person focus on an intent as they begin a session...if nothing else they are kind of grounding for those of us who tend to drift into the atmosphere from time to time. My friend pulled the two stones from the pouch she gave him and they said, "Wonderful" and "Journey." If the second had been regarding the band, I'd have been okay.

But she began her speech to him with, "[my friend's name], I've been so pleased to help mentor you on your journey through the past year. It's been my pleasure to watch you grow."

Ugh. Maybe it's that I am physically sick and don't have the energy to withstand the normal fluff that people around me toss around. I'm not sure. But I honestly wanted to gag when I heard it. So I guess this is one woman's plea to the rest of the world: stop using the word "journey." it doesn't mean what you think it means. At least not anymore it doesn't. You've ruined it. Now no one gets a journey. And it's all your fault.

(female) Friendship ball?

2010-12-12T10:38:00.000-08:00

So last night I went to a "girly gathering" consisting of 14 women, alcohol, and eating. There was also an ornament contest in which I was instructed to "bring on that's really glittery and girly."

Let me just pause here to say that the type of friends I like are the ones who can get real with me and talk about poop and boobs and occasionally contemplate the nature of the universe. And in general they're really real. If I look like I'm not having fun, they'll call me on it or realize they and everyone around us has turned into a douchebag and needs to start acting like a normal person and not a superficial pile of blandness. Nuff said.

So I showed up to this party-thing and we all ventured to a carousel in downtown Seattle where we had someone stand on the side taking pictures ... there was a potential for this being fun...but it fizzled. And then we went to a lounge-y bar and drank pink champagne. This could have had the potential for being fun, but it wasn't. There were, again, a lot of pictures taken. Then we went back to a hotel and ate appetizers and drank more champagne (by this point I had had one glass of champagne and refused to sip from my glass any further). This never had the potential for being fun and it turned out that way. All of these fun-meters are my own and I don't think they applied to anyone but me. We stayed at this hotel for about two hours "chatting" and "having fun."

Then we got dressed up to go out to dinner and caught a shuttle to the restaurant downtown. Now, for this I had paid the main organizing woman $75 (as did everyone else) because I was promised an awesome dinner with amazing food and delicious drinks. It turns out that the food was bland and undercooked and most of that money went toward the eight bottles of red wine and five bottles of champagne. At this restaurant I had two sips of champagne and drank water the whole night, while everyone else was wasted on said other alcohol.

And then came the ornament contest. As I was told to bring something "really girly," I brought a My Little Pony ornament that was wearing a Santa hat. I'm pretty sure there is nothing more girly than that. But when they said "girly" they really meant "cheesy and Christian." And not cheesy in the funny way...cheesy in the late-aged-40s-woman-cheesy... and not Christian in the "bless you I'm going to turn the other cheek that you hate this experience" kind of way...no, Christian in the Jesus-died-for-your-sins-so-lets-celebrate-him-with-obnoxious-looking-Santas-and-other-really-ugly-Christian-holiday-ornaments type of Christan. The "winning" ornament, for which three people voted (no one voted for any other ornament), was a ginormous ball that had sparkly ginkgo leaves to "symbolize women." W. T. F?

The next party of the evening was the "year in review" where we talk about how our year went (I wasn't warned about this). Woman after woman went through how she was so thankful for her friends and how she was so "blessed" to do blah and blah and how her children blah and blah and blah... Each woman took about five minutes to do their speech and at some point during it all I had a minor anxiety attack (panic disorder made worse by superficial social situations) in which I wanted to throw up. When it got to me, I said, "Bad year but it keeps getting better. That's all I'm saying. Cheers" and held up my glass of water.

At the end of the night for me (they were all heading to the hotel to continue drinking and talking and they were all staying the night- my hubby picked me up so I could sleep in my own bed, not with the sorority bitches), I said, "Well, my hubby is downstairs and I've had more than enough socializing for the night, so I'm going home. Great meeting all of you!"

Dirty girl

2010-11-11T21:57:00.000-08:00

Every so often I realize that a piece of my life is missing. And right around that time, either Groupon or Living Social swoops in and provides me with an opportunity to make all right in my world. Today was one of those days.

I woke up looking around my house, slightly hungover from "study group", last night and realized that my house could really really really use a thorough and deep cleaning. And because I don't clean things (well) I wished upon a magical star that someone would come to me and tell me all would be right. Living Social did.

$50 for two hours of cleaning. Plus, I went to the company's website and because they're a fledgling company (woman owned I might add) they're desperate to get people hooked on their juice. So, if a person buys the $50 Living Social deal AND buys another 2 hours of cleaning from them through their website (for an additional $50), they will allow that person to receive additional cleaning services through them for one full year for $25 an hour...and they usually charge $50 an hour...

Living Social is a gateway consumer drug. And I have vacuum track marks.

Sigh

2010-11-08T18:17:00.000-08:00

Do you have any of those "friends" who send you emails every two or three months even though you don't ever respond? The kind that update you as if you were talking to them on a regular basis, and the fact that you don't ever contribute anything to their life other than being a FUCKINGRECEPTACLEOFUSELESSEMAILS doesn't do anything to stop them? The kind that tells you inane details about their current marital separation/divorce and tell you how important you were on their "journey"? The kind that fell madly in love with you and the moment that you told them that, without one shred of doubt, you would never leave your wonderful husband for him, suddenly unleashed a tirade of vitriol upon you? And for the next two years sent you the emails described above? Do you have a friend like that?

Because I do. And every now and again he reads this blog...and I really really really wish he would ONCEANDFORALLOFGOD'STIMELEAVEMETHEFUCKALONE!!!!

Otherwise, school and the rest of my world is moseying along quite fine.

I like Slurpees

2010-10-21T22:08:00.000-07:00

I have been at my internship for a couple of months now and I have roughly eight more months of this stuff until I graduate. Which means eight more months of not having a job. And eight more months of writing theory response papers, putting up with cranky inferior students (yeah I said it), and analyzing myself like I've never analyzed myself. Holy fuck. Why on earth would anyone want to do this for a living? I mean, really?

So I think I've decided to take the pressure off myself. I'm going to be the best worst therapist ever. I'm going to relax and say things that I want to say without the confines of "Would the best therapist say this?". And why am I doing that? Fuck if I know. But it seems better than the alternative.

And now a friend from the job I used to have (who makes a metric fuckton of money) is asking for the two of us to have drinks or dinner. And I plan to use the opportunity to see if getting back into that industry is worth it for me or if she's just as desperate to leave it as I was. Another friend is a real estate agent and is really interested in helping me get going in that field if that's the direction I choose. Still another friend is reminding me that I can consult with businesses after I graduate - something I'm also interested in doing.

So, I guess that's going to be that. In eight months I will have worked my ass off to get a degree that has virtually nothing to do with what I will be doing. That makes perfect sense. At least a good paying job will pay off these mother fucking loans. Holy shit.

I hated that

2010-09-27T17:06:00.000-07:00

This may come as a shock to anyone who knows me, but I hated my first ever client appointment. Like, really truly hated it. I have no idea how to talk with 15 year old boys. And right about now I want to go back to real estate appraising. Sigh.

Fickle

2010-09-22T12:28:00.000-07:00

While I started my internship nearly a month ago, I still haven't seen any clients. That bothers me. It turns out that seeing the clients results from me having to buddy up with the people who assign the clients to the interns. That smells of politics to me and reminds me of precisely what I was trying to get away from by leaving the business world. So what saddens me the most is that I had idealized my new career field so much and now I'm being faced with the reality of it.

I think that had I really expected this I would have prepared myself for this. But I didn't, so now I'm stuck with getting past my grief of losing what I hoped this would be and moving forward with the idea that not only will I be making no money for the next year, but I will also have to put up with the politics of people who I wish were more effusively awesome. Sigh.

Sometimes I wish that I had discovered all of this back when I was in undergraduate college at the University. Had I known then what I know now, I would have double majored in Psychology and Business, satisfying my intellectual curiosity with my financial curiosity and potentially be running a small business by now. But, instead I am unemployed and volunteering somewhere that I have to kiss up to people I barely know so I can satisfy the hours my graduate school requires to graduate with my Master's Degree so I can work in a field where I need to suck up to doctors and other professionals so they will send me referrals for people who will talk with me about their problems and pay me for it.

Why did I choose this field again? Sigh.

What I learned from a 6th grader...

2010-09-16T17:53:00.000-07:00

In an effort to help provide the "village" for my nephew to grow up in, I make sure that if he IMs me on Facebook that I generally chat as long as he wants and generally take the time to be some of the extended family I never had. Plus, I figure it helps me stay connected to the next generation and gives him an additional adult to supplement his existence. (Plus he's just a cool kid.) And life can be tough for an adult, but much more so for a kid learning how to work the basics.

So he's telling me all the different sports and things he's doing, how a "BUNCH" of girls like him, how he's got all these friends in different grades, and how he's pretty much the most awesome 11-year old in the world. And the thought strikes me that he's kind of an extrovert. But then I figured that he's young enough to not know what that word means, maybe, so I changed it to "people person." His response was "yea... what does that mean?"

So, being the graduate student who focuses on the existential trappings of life, I instantly wondered if he was asking A) how I concluded he was a "people person", or "B) what that means for him as a person. So I responded to him: "Are you asking how I concluded that?" And he said, "idk." Which told me I had my head up my ass.

Instantly I realized he didn't know what I meant by "people person" and that I was stuck in my world of grad school language and therapist-thinking. So I told him that it meant he liked being around people and he accepted my labeling of him, stating that he was in fact a "people person."

Geez. I think I have a lot to learn. But I at least have my 11 year old nephew to teach me.

Today I have a slight sad.

2010-09-14T16:45:00.000-07:00

Or maybe it's more of a disappointment. I'm not super clear on that yet.

I had high hopes that I would be starting to meet with clients this Friday as I was given the go ahead to start having what is called "first ongoing appointments." I felt really good about myself and on top of this experience a week or two ago when my supervisor told me I could start seeing them. But after a week of being away at school I came back to the office with a big fat vacant spot on all my open appointment slots. It feels like rejection, being ignored, and dismissal all at once.

Intellectually, I can logically see that the people doing the assessments don't yet know me and so don't have a frame of reference to line up the new intern's name on the list with the people they have in front of them in need of mental health services. Intellectually, I can see that. But I was really looking forward to getting going in this and right now I'm a little caught up in the idea that this is a form of oppressive politics coming into play. Oppressive politics in a field that I hope truly fights to ward off oppression.

And then when I handed in my clinician disclosure form which states what the heck it is that I do I was then told that it was really good, but needed to be in language that was a little less highbrow and more focused on what people with significantly less schooling than I have would be comfortable with reading. So what's happening is that I'm feeling misunderstood on several levels. And maybe it's not even misunderstood it's more along the lines of simply not communicating that which I truly want to communicate.

And then I realize that was the theme of this last weekend for me at school. The biggest problem we seem to face as people is that we aren't being fully understood and we can't quite say exactly what we want to say...so we find a way to say it in words that our friends accept, or our teachers accept, or our culture accepts. But each time we speak words that are socially agreed upon, there's something within us that's not being expressed. And it's something that we want to express, but are putting to the side while other parts of us are given space to be expressed.

So the goal then it seems to me is to find some people in your life who you feel and think "get" you...so that even though you might be not saying exactly what you're trying to say and speaking descriptive words about every single thing you want to express, you're still feeling understood as having a dynamic human experience and suddenly your fear that you're being misunderstood doesn't take up so much space in your head.

The funniest thing about this is that before I even started for the day I had lunch with a friend who works at the internship (who I've known since before I started there) who is one of those people who just "gets" me. And when I left, he stopped what he was doing to tell me goodbye and say my name. So how is it in the midst of being fully understood by this friend that I still felt like shit after the rest of the people didn't understand my human experience? I guess that's the big question for the year, isn't it? How do I develop strength from those who understand me to be comfortable in the presence of those who don't?

Yay

2010-08-30T17:19:00.000-07:00

I am just over a week away from beginning my second year in graduate school. This may or may not be my final first day of school as I have developed an interest in furthering my education. Perhaps I will get a PhD or perhaps I may get a Nutrition degree or Nursing degree to add on top of my Counseling degree. I've noticed that I have a strong interest in mind-body medicine, especially when I see what exercise and nutrition has done for me. It's one case study, but probably the most compelling.

I also learned about a program through the Federal government where, through a special program, I work for two years in an under-served area of the United States and in return I get my student loans paid off up to $50,000 (plus the salary I'd be paid for working there). It kind of makes me wish I had taken out more loans so I could get my time's worth, but such is life. I wouldn't need to move very far either as there is a close one in Tacoma and I think there are others closer, but they don't have any openings at the moment.

The biggest shocker about the program? There are tons of under-served areas in Hawaii. Yes, you read that right. I could move to Hawaii, live there for two years doing counseling and they'd pay off my student loans plus pay me. Plus. I had always written off Hawaii for living because of the 6-month quarantine for housepets, but I found out that that's not really the case and you can apply for a 5 day or less quarantine if they are all up to date on their rabies shots and other vaccines. Yes, I would have to buy more suntan lotion, but for god's sake! I could be rewarded for doing my life's work AND moving to Hawaii AND get to bring my husband AND my dogs AND cats. Man, this living thing is tough.

Thus ends my whine for the day.

2010-08-12T17:24:00.000-07:00

It appears this blog has turned from one focused on emotional vomit to one focused on working out. Mkay. I shall continue this for today and potentially today only. But who knows? I'm fickle.

The Bikram teacher today where I go is the teacher who I'm not too fond of. She always says the same things in the same ways. She sounds like a robot, with the exception that she has a strong unidentifiable Asian accent that makes a lot of what she says very difficult to understand. In 104 degree heat this becomes annoying. What makes it more annoying is that her robotic voice is also a little patronizing and militaristic. To top all of this off she has a terrible habit of sounding like she's pushing a poop out when she says the word "stretch." It's almost like she thinks she's Tony The Tiger. Only Asian. And robotic. And in the military.

Still, though, my ass is tighter than it's been since before I got married and when I get out of the 104 degree room I feel pretty good.

Why eating disorders are prevalent in our country (also titled: There are so many people who can fuck off)

2010-08-02T10:21:00.000-07:00

Graduate school is hard. In the society that I know, when someone is short on time or short on alternatives, they will eat to satisfy themselves if something else is prompting dissatisfaction. So, when faced with identity-questioning-curriculum like in my school in the midst of both working full time and going to school full time, it was natural that I reached for the butter and the ranch dressing and the icecream (apparently I find solace in dairy).

So after a year of this I had put on about 7 pounds. Not so much so that there should be much visible difference, but enough so that my clothes were fitting slightly differently. I noticed this was happening and so once I saw a break in the clouds (of the school year coming to a close) I took up regular running. For thirty minutes a day, five days of the week, I pounded the pavement with my new running shoes and cute new (stretchy) clothing. And after about a month of that? I gained 5 pounds. Yes, there's about a 99% chance it's muscle gain and water gain, but still...not the direction I was hoping for. However, some of my clothes were fitting a little looser, so I could tell that there was a bit of toning going on.

But for some reason I keep getting these comments from friends of mine that are making me think that I'm a big fat cow with no reason to get out of bed in the morning and that I should just stop trying and invest in Twinkies and muu muus. None of these weight comments were prompted by me. Por ejemplo:

Male friend after I hadn't seen him for three months:
"You know...you look...uh... great! The last time I saw you you looked too skeeenny. Now, you look...uh..."healthy."
("Uh...healthy" says "fat" to me.)

Another male friend in the company of another friend:
"There's nothing wrong with some junk in your trunk, huh?" *and then slaps my shoulder*
(Apparently looking to me for validation of his comment)

A conversation between me and a female friend:
Me: "Yeah for a couple years there I was disgustingly anorexic"
Her (glancing down at my ass several times): "Really?"
Me (uncomfortably): "Well, I mean, I got over that and am not now..."
Her: "Oh...right. That makes sense then."
(Sigh. And she has bigger boobs than me.)

Same female friend after I told her I started running a lot:
Her: "Oh really? What's that....um (glancing at my thighs)...doing for you then?"
Me: "My lungs and mind are in much better shape. My body's coming along."
Her: "Hmmm...uh...yeah...okay."
(Why am I friends with this woman again?)

Male friend referring to a stage performance I did a couple of months ago:
Him: "My friend was talking about you from XYZ performance."
Me: (thinking about how much I'm happy to be performing again) "Oh yeah?!"
Him: "Yeah...he was saying, 'damn, that girl's got a badonkadonk'."
Me: Huh...thanks, I'm self-conscious now.
(I normally like my butt in silence, but now that it's getting more attention than me I think I'm annoyed)

Talking to my husband this morning as I went out for a run, obviously fishing for a compliment:
Me: "Okay...I'm off to go run my fat ass off!"
Him: "Okay, sweetie, don't run it all off!"
(Pretty much stayed cranky for the entirety of the run. Sigh.)

I think I'll go stick my finger down my throat now.

Even though

2010-07-27T20:51:00.000-07:00

I now know for sure that there are more than a handful of people I know irl who at least have recently read this blog and it's become a bit of a dumping ground for emotional vomit, I will still go ahead and write this post. Whether or not it turns out to be devoid of anything worthwhile is not my liability. It's yours for reading. Enjoy!

Without any people I work with on which to project my insecurities, judgments, and issues, I've been realizing that while I know myself pretty well and I have weeded through about 500,000 acres of my past traumas, worries, and hindrances, there are still apparently more to go. Who knew this would be a lifelong process? Apparently not the therapist in training. Sigh.

What's coming up at this point is the idea that I've been carrying around that I'd run into someone who would become my best friend. A few months ago I finally opened up to the possibility that there actually could be someone out there who could fill those shoes, but before that I had really and truly deeply wished for it. I think my husband fills a lot of the responsibility and awesomeness that a best friend is, but when it comes down to it I really want a female best friend.

So I've been thinking a lot. I've been looking around at the women I know and really unsure as to whether any of them would work. I mean, I think my standards are pretty high. So with that, I came up with a list of items she needs to have:

*She should be pretty, but not prettier than me.
*She should be in fairly good shape, but not better than me.
*She should be funny, but not funnier than me.
*She should be really smart, but not smarter than me.
*She should be modest, but not more than me.
*She should be needy, but not too needy.
*She should be awesome in general, but not more than me.
*She should think I'm super duper awesome, but not so much that she's stalker-like.
*She should be a great listener and give great advice, this one she can be better at than me.

Yep, I think that about sums up my list. She should pretty much be me, only not me. So, come on, dream best friend! I'm waiting. Any time now. Come on, lady! I don't have all day! Come on! Oh, and she should be patient.

Unemployment is kinda nice

2010-07-13T23:05:00.000-07:00

The last time I was unemployed...okay voluntarily unemployed was about 14 years ago. I was a teenager living in my mother's house and I was miserable. Today I have been unemployed for two full business days and so far it's something akin to heaven. I'm tired but I have zero anxiety and zero stress. Well, some stress, but I think that's not really stress...it's gas.

Yesterday I slept in until noon and cleaned-ish the kitchen and watered some plants and went for the most painful and tiring 25 minute "run" I've gone for in a while. (I took time off while we went and did our South American healing thing. [Which was awesome by the way. Best shaman ever.])

Today I woke up at 11am and put away the dishes from the dishwasher, made some yogurt, weeded a big portion of the yard, went on a slightly less painful (although wheezy) 31 minute run, and cooked apple and lentil dal (tasty and cheap).

I have no idea how I will top these tomorrow. Perhaps running for 40 minutes, weeding more, and constructing a yurt. Seriously, though, I totally want to build a yurt. Best semi-permanent tent ever.

Mmmmkay

2010-06-18T11:51:00.000-07:00

So, for months now I have been contemplating the demise of my employment at this company. It's not where I want to be and it never really has been. In complete honesty, I think I got into these financial type businesses because I really wanted to see if rich people have it better than me.

What I've discovered is that I think they don't. There are numerous opportunities for me to join prestigious clubs and go to lunches with important people, but when it gets down to it I find myself bored with their topics of conversation. For instance, I just overheard a conversation between two junior employees who are about 23 and 26 respectively.

Their conversation included the following:

*A discussion of whether khaki was more formal than jeans
*The concept that moorage for their respective boats was relatively cheap at $200 a month
*The concept that a monthly fee to a prestigious social networking club was "affordable" at $150 per month not including the $1,000 initiation fee.
*That the view is so wonderful from the restaurant at said prestigious club that "you can see Tacoma" from it
*A discussion of which country clubs they belonged to as children
*Additional vapid topics

It's time to quit my job.

Neato! The fog is lifting.

2010-06-17T15:09:00.000-07:00

So, in reviewing my life over the past 9 to 10 months I've realized that I've made some weird forays into new types of living. Some of them make sense: being more honest with myself and others, working on a graduate degree, drinking more water. Some of them make no sense and I wonder how on earth I let my thoughts go so far down a track that when I look at them now they just sound like me trying to convince myself to do something simply because I can convince myself to do so.

That all said, I've learned a shitload this year. For instance:

*Twinkie 100 calorie packs are disgusting.
*I have invited far too many people into my life.
*Working full time and going to graduate school is a retarded idea.
*Things do catch up to you. Like monsters.
*Dreams can come true if you dream about everyday life.
*Senna tea WILL make you run to the bathroom in the morning after you use it.
*Improv will always be there for you, but it's best to not leave it. So don't leave it dumbass.

I'm getting my funny back, but in the mean time I have to purge all this junk first. Who knew?

2010-06-15T23:06:00.002-07:00

Running hurts a lot.
But wait. What's that? Could it be?
My mighty fine ass.

I kinda wish I was kidding

2010-06-15T22:24:00.000-07:00

But I'm not. I've decided to run a half-marathon. In October. Of this year. In Victoria.

Until I started training a week or so ago I had done absolutely no running since high school. And even then, that was only enough laps around the gym to equal one mile. And I did NO running in my senior year. Drugs --- yes. Drinking --- yes. Running --- hayle no.

So, it was surprising to me that for my third run I somehow got up to two miles. They were slow miles and I walked some, but I still got up to two miles. And I was pretty tired when it was all over.

I surprised myself today when I ran by really paying attention to how my feet landed. And I suddenly realized that I had a shit load of power in my ass (no pun intended), but that right now I'm learning to control it. And when I got done running? My ass looked like a Greek god. Pay no attention to the fact that the Greeks are completely in the shitter financially. Their asses still look amazing. The god ones do anyway.

Jesus H. Christ

2010-06-14T16:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Sweet Jesus,

Thank you for letting me get through my finals even though I don't believe in you. Also, thank you for allowing me to become funny again. I'll have Buddha give you a call one of these days when he's not busy being enlightened and stuff.

Thanks,

Julie

This just in.

2010-06-09T13:40:00.000-07:00

I want you to sit down for a minute while I tell you something. Are you sitting? Okay good.

I'm going to be a psychotherapist. Really. Like I'm not kidding. I'm actually going to be helping people with their mental health. Me. The woman who's written all this other junk in here. Me. Woah.

And it's not like it's happening in years from now. I'm talking months. Three months. In three months I will be working with children and families at my internship. Counseling them. Me. I'm going to be a counselor. Holy fuck.

But really, when it gets down to it, it's not like I can really screw people up that much more than they're already screwed right? Right?!

Interesting at best

2010-05-27T12:56:00.000-07:00

So I'm slowly coming off these drugs, right? And, technically, it's been over a week (day 8!) since I've not been taking them. And everyone in the world (the internet) tells me that Effexor XR withdrawals are the biggest bitch. I'm here to tell you that they, in fact, at the biggest bitch in the world to deal with.

Not only have I been nauseated, dizzy, and mood-swingy, but I'm also contemplating the very nature of existence. That last one isn't the worst thing in the world to contemplate, but when in conjunction with the other ones on the list, it really gets me in a weird head space. Add to that my first year in graduate school coming to a close with millions of preparations for that, my friendships with all those people morphing, and a close friend from work finding out that he's officially got Stage 3 Colon Cancer, my calculations that I need to quit work within the next two months, my interest in trying for babies as early as this fall, and the gulf oil spill (to name a few) and I feel overwhelmed.

But, on the plus side, I just got approval* from my husband to watch two kitties this summer. Let's hope that my current cats and my dogs actually want to share their territory with new kitties.

*I asked in a sweet email using lots of "xoxoxoxox"s

Exhausted

2010-05-24T09:45:00.002-07:00

The people in my office wear me out. It's like I can feel their judgments dripping off of them and pouring into every pore in my body. They've got difficulty in being human, I think, so often they walk by my office and stare at me like I'm an alien. And then they keep walking and I'm left with the negative imprint their passing by has left me with. Why on earth do I still work here?

Oh, right, because they pay me an ungodly amount to do boring work. Sigh.

pummeling

2010-05-23T23:23:00.000-07:00

There are times in my life where I think I'm moving through things so quickly and smoothly and other times where it feels as if I landed in a pile of angry goats. Right now feels like one of those times.

I have to re-rewrite my paper for school. Really? Just give me a C. Does it really have to be A-level work? And, with the extent to how much I actually get this stuff, I am getting a little annoyed that I can't just pass along. There are times when I really recognize that, more so than a bazillion other people in the program, that I'm really fucking right for this career. And then there are times like this that I recognize it and don't quite understand why I'm getting worked over so hard on things that don't matter.

Is it that to me they don't matter, but they're all they have to grade me on? Probably.

So, in addition to getting ready for these stupid tests, and writing a stupid 10 page paper on random crap that I don't care about, I have to re-rewrite a paper that I didn't ever want to write in the first place.

I think that what really happens in this program for me is that the men understand me and recognize how awesome of a job I'm doing and the women don't. It's like the story of my life. Men are the ones who stay my friends. And women are the ones who are more intermittent. I think it was part of my wish in this program that I'd start to understand why that is the case. And now I'm starting to question whether I'll ever know.

Is it that I'm just more aligned to get along with the male part of our species? Or is it that I've never really had much of a role model for how to deal with the type of women who I attract into my life. Because I must say, most people in my life disappoint me. And it's rarely the men who fit that bill. Sigh. Times a thousand. Sigh.

Claritin, it's not just for your eyes

2010-05-12T00:53:00.001-07:00

You know how sometimes you come to a conclusion and then you realize what you've known all along but were just too chicken shit to truly and deeply commit to? Well, I do now.

A friend at my school quit the program a week or so ago. She wasn't being given a fair shake from the teachers and she probably wasn't right for the program. She was the third to quit in my cohort alone. There are 35 or 36 of us left. Hopefully only one or two quit from here on out. But who knows?

So what is surprising is that a friend of mine from a neighboring cohort (same program six months ahead of me) who I have been convinced was happy in the program and was doing great just finally up and quit. I had no idea she was thinking about leaving. But it was so clear to her that it felt clear to me, too.

With these people quitting I started thinking, "Why do I love this program so much even when I hate it?" Well, the answer is that this is right for me. And I keep feeling more and more devoted to it the longer I'm in it. And then if I end up not wanting to be devoted to it, would I want to work full time again at the job I'm doing? Well, then why am I working there right now? Why don't I stop working at the job that I loathe right now? Money? A fall back option? Fear? Probably all of those, yes.

But at this point it finally has started to ring clear. I am at the point that I want to quit my job. I don't need to. I don't need to stay either. I just simply want to quit my job. And I think it's going to happen very soon. My fantasy is that it's going to happen tomorrow.

All of this hasn't been the only thing contributing to it either. Somehow, the husband and I are getting along better and he's been insanely supportive in suggesting that I quit this forsaken place once and for all. But why have I been staying? For my favorite boss in the whole world. And a little under a week ago he told me that he has cancer. He had surgery yesterday and I was hoping to see him today, but he needs his rest and so told all of us who want to see him to wait a little longer.

What is it about cancer that makes a person question their life? Even when that cancer is in the body of someone else? Well...you see...he's always been kind of my spiritual leader at this job. He's really the reason I've stayed for so long. Without him I would have left this place years ago. But he's had so much to teach me about simply being a decent good thoughtful loving and emotionally stable human being.

My first thought after our conversation about his cancer was over was that when something big happens like that you get an opportunity to do something you've wanted to do but haven't yet done. And I started to think what it was that he would do. And I think I came to the conclusion that he'd be doing probably just what he's doing. He's that zen about his life. So what would I be doing if I had this opportunity? Quitting my job, spending more time with my dogs and cats, working on my marriage, working on my house, working in my garden, and finding a way to enjoy this last bit of youth my life is affording me right now before we get all breeder-like and start making babies. Yes I said that.

This school has done some weird shit to me and I'm pretty excited about it.

Too cool for skool

2010-05-04T16:32:00.001-07:00

So I started out in this graduate school education competely willing to revamp myself to create the biggest changes and revitalize Julie. I started types of friendships that in the past haven't worked (hint: they're still not working). I questioned everything I had chosen for myself in my life. I began a quest to get the most out of this school that I could. And you know what I figured out?

I was already pretty fucking cool to begin with. And I already had put myself in a niche that I liked. Why didn't I have more friends? Because I didn't really want them. Why was I happy pushing people out of my life who bothered me? Because I can. Why was I resisting making this blog about whatever the fuck I wanted? Because I was worried that some readers wouldn't like it.

And you know what I've realized? I'm really fucking awesome the way I am. And I don't have to change just because some people have ideas that what I do isn't making me happy. No...what I do won't make EVERYONE happy. But me? I'm pretty fucking satisfied with my life. And anyone who has a problem with that can go fuck themselves.

I've never been happier and it's because I'm getting these monkeys of trying to please people I don't like off my fucking back.

I've said "fuck" about six times now in this post. Yay. :)

Got it!

2010-04-07T13:20:00.000-07:00

Though I had a great feeling after leaving my internship interview, I was still needing to be only cautiously optimistic. And this morning I received word that I got the internship! Yay!

I start in September, she'll only make me stay through June, they hire from their intern pool, and it could be the way for me to springboard into my private practice. I LOVE when things are meant to be! Love it!

This kind of stuff is starting to happen to me with more frequency. I think it's because of a lot of things, but mostly because I'm living with more integrity and authenticity. Those are two values I learned I already had from my school. Now I simply embody them more.

Sigh.

Happy dance!

Cross your fingers

2010-03-25T20:35:00.000-07:00

So, I'm stepping in to this new thing of letting myself want things. It's weird. I'm fully embracing all that my graduate program can offer me and what that is sometimes surprises me. The instance right now is that I am wanting things and I am feeling the pain that wanting contains.

For a while I've done what it takes to "need" things. If I "need" something and I don't get it then I have the opportunity to be upset with whoever didn't 'meet my needs.' Yet if I want something and something or someone doesn't give it to me, what do I have to show for it? Discomfort? Who is going to help me in that?

For much of my childhood I was alone. In a lot of ways I raised myself because I had a mom who was absent much of the time living in a separate house. So I often had no one to go to for comfort when disappointments struck. The solution to that was to simply never want things if I had the possibility of not getting them.

Yet if a person lives without wants that person is always in want, paradoxically. So by not wanting specific things I was actually sitting with a baseline want that was constantly activated. Now that I'm going after I wants my life is more satisfying. It's more dangerous and satisfying.

I want a specific internship and I will hopefully find out tomorrow if I will be offered the position. It's close to my house. It is for only 9 months. I could have the potential for working there when my internship would be done. And I really really really have a good feeling about the place. I have a good feeling that I will get it, but it's not 100% until I get an offer.

So I get to sit here in my want and...well...want. It's kind of fun. In a twisted kind of way.

Is there a reason you're looking at me like that?

2010-03-24T00:00:00.001-07:00

I noticed the other day (okay a few minutes ago) that I constantly play games...it's a social thing to do, but it gets irritating every now and then. That's all I have to say.

Head

2010-03-22T00:05:00.000-07:00

Not a clue why I titled this post that. We had a free writing exercise today and a lot of things fell out of my head. I have some highlights from this weekend before the sleep pill kicks in:

*I told a teacher I wanted to kick his face in. He seemed pleased with my honesty. He then fumbled through his lecture for the next 20 minutes. It was kind of awesome. I felt powerful.
*I asked same teacher an intensely personal question and he fumbled again. A new student told me it was none of my business. I didn't really mind her saying it.
*Several women sitting behind me later told me they wanted to beat the woman up for saying it.
*I talked with her about it and discovered she's pregnant and getting married in two weeks.
*She has the name of my first Cabbage Patch Kid.
*She has a cute flippy nose.
*I connected deeply with two women I had been really wanting to connect with.
*I had several corrective emotional experiences.

I think that's about it for now. Bad things happened this weekend, too, but I'm not wanting to litter this page with their details. Oh graduate school...are you really doing this to me?

This is just getting silly

2010-03-02T11:59:00.001-08:00

A week or so ago my doctor got back to me with some news about my yearly woman's exam. Her news was that I have HPV type 16, which is the riskiest form of HPV in terms of cervical cancer. Nothing abnormal showed up on my exam, but because they had run this extra test they discovered the HPV, which prompted them to give me an additional test. That happened this morning.

It's not the prettiest thing to stare at a television screen with a view inside my hoo-haa. Luckily, the doctor told me it would not end up on Youtube. She also informed me that I have a "beautiful cervix." Not what I was expecting for a Tuesday morning, but there you have it.

She put the various forms of diluted vinegar on my cervix and I waited while she prodded me incessantly. It didn't hurt at first, but then I started feeling queasy. Such is the drill, though. She finally said that we were almost through, but she had one last look to take since my "transition cells" hide more than most women's. And there she found it. A mild form of dysplasia that, had I not had bashful uterine cells, my pap would have seen the abnormal growth.

Sixty percent of the time this stuff goes away on its own. The other forty it develops further. Since I've been a carrier for this for more than five years, I have a considerably increased risk of developing cervical cancer. Roughly 200 to 300 times the risk. Granted the rate of cervical cancer is relatively low, but I would rather not have to deal with this.

And then when I tried to activate my iPhone, the stupid AT&T told me I had to get my husband's approval before the system would let me activate it. Sigh. Come the fuck on universe.

My drug of choice

2010-02-23T00:18:00.000-08:00

I was thinking of the D.A.R.E. program from elementary school earlier today. I've thought for years that the program actually introduced me to drugs. I would not have known what was so interesting about them except for that the officers in the program (one of whom had a huge porn mustache) told me why they were fun. Several conversations with people over the years have actually told me that the program gave them insight into drugs that they wouldn't have had without the program. Specifically, some people tried drugs because of the program. But what I realized today was that it's Drug ABUSE Resistance Education. Not drug USE resistance. Drug ABUSE. So in that respect, it might have done it's job.

In my advancing age I've rediscovered how much I enjoy going to a drugstore and scouring the cosmetic shelves for items to buy. It used to be a one to two hour trip to my local Longs to buy new products when I was a teenager. I no longer have that much time, but I think I should find it. Retail therapy is cheap when it's five dollar eyeshadow. Granted, in the last twelve or so years I have started to branch into more and more expensive items. My tastes have gotten a little better.

For instance, I purchased Imju Fiberwig mascara a few months ago. That stuff is the best mascara I've ever purchased. And when I tried to buy a drugstore brand that was touted as being similar it was just crap. My eyelashes looked fake like the package said, but not in a good way like with Imju. And I've found a penchant for Lorac eyeshadow. They're $17 in the department store. I found them online for $5 and stocked up. But I'm starting to see that I need to get to a real makeup artist place and have them teach me what to do. I never really learned. I just copied my sister sometimes and that seems to have worked.

The one item in my purchase bag that has remained a staple over the years, though, is lip gloss. From the plumping kind to the kind with colors I really should never wear. It's remained the same throughout my lifetime. I love things to put on my lips. In my purse right now I have at least 6 different lip glosses. And I would have more, but I need somewhere to put my wallet. So what this comes down to? I'm addicted to lip gloss and it's addicted to me.

Two at a time

2010-02-20T00:28:00.000-08:00

Shortly after I graduated from college I had an itching to party. I had been fairly good in college as far as not letting myself get away with me. I got good grades, I worked hard, I had a steady live-in boyfriend. So, not that long after I graduated, I turned 21. Woah was that a mistake of our Gregorian calendar!

My 21st birthday was in Vegas. As in Las. And there was drinking. There was a lot of drinking. There was so much drinking that the poison in my body needed the oxygen in the casinos to keep me from dying. But eventually it got to me and I had to go back to the room. And pass out for several hours at a time.

And, after I came home I realized I needed more of a thrill. I needed a way to get excited and sustain that high. My boring life at home was needing to end. So I partied.  A lot. A lot a lot. I used to drive drunk. A lot. I used to do other recreational things. A lot. And then I got caught. I was pulled over one night and slapped with a DUI charge. So I stopped drinking. And continued doing other things. That got me in even more trouble.

So I laid low for a while. I feared touching a beer for months after my arrest. And then I did. And I realized it wasn't so bad. And when it wasn't so bad I started drinking again. A lot. And then the blackouts started coming. Three, four, five times a week I'd get wasted and not remember what I had done the night before. I'd be insanely anxious the next day and the only way my anxiety went away was if I drank more. So I went for an entire month without drinking. And my life changed. I applied to graduate school (didn't get in then, but I tried). I started thinking about my future.

And then I started drinking again.  A lot. It wouldn't be three or four times a week, but almost every time I'd drink I wouldn't remember anything past the third drink. I'd be a super fun drunk person, but I'd never remember what made me so fun. But I kept drinking. Stupid things would happen to me.

Fast forward a few years to me circa 2009. I drank in moderation, but any time I got past three drinks in a night, I couldn't remember the evening.  My birthday celebration brought with it some intensity. I confessed undying love, but only remember a portion of it. I licked another friend's neck and barely remember it. I flashed just about everyone and remember it only so far as to know that, yes, I would in fact do something like that. But I had no memory of it.

So much of my life is wasted not remembering what happened because of alcohol. And last weekend I spoke with three or four recovering alcoholics who all said that what I described to them indicated that I have a lot of warning signs for alcoholism. Great. I used to joke when I started drinking that I was trying to become an alcoholic. Little did I know it'd actually work.

So, even though I'm not Catholic, or Christian, or any other faith that potentially thinks of Lent as a time of honoring Jesus through abstention from something (or bringing on a new trait as I've been informed), I've decided I'm giving up alcohol for Lent. Forty days without liquor or beer or wine or sake. Kinda sucks. But if I can't get through this at least I get to go to some fun meetings and state my first name. But if I can get through it, I'm going to have one hell of a rager. Please see the sarcasm. Or irony. Or humor. Really, I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Define me.

Governor of California

2010-02-19T23:45:00.002-08:00

I get these really intense headaches. Like, really intense. They radiate from right behind my eye toward the rear of my head and usually feel something akin to a wooden stake lodged in said area. I say wooden because there are tiny splinters of pain that branch from the stake. It's painful.

Wednesday I discovered that in the area where the pain is most noticeable for me toward the rear of my head, I have a divet in my head. It's more of a shallow empty pond. It's the size of a quarter roughly. And it's warm in the area. Warm. Not like normal warm, but more like I just had a laptop sitting on that portion of my head warm. Warm enough to notice, but not enough to conclude that my skin is on fire.

So since then, I've had some time to myself. I've been given reprieve from work so I'm focusing on my studies. Ok. I'm focusing on why my head is so lumpy. Because have you ever really sat down and felt your head? I mean reeeally felt it? Like felt it in a way that helped you imagine what it would look like if you were bald? No? Well, I did. And I have to tell you that I don't ever want to shave my head.

I also found what some people would probably refer to as a fatty cyst or a swollen lymph node or a brain tumor. It's about the size of an Altoid. And I'm sure it's completely full of cells that will slowly take over my brain and turn me into a robotic version of myself. Because, really, people we're talking about robotic tumors here. I have a robotic brain tumor. It's the only thing that can explain: my headaches, the warmness, my strange behavior lately. It's the only thing.

Or it could be that I'm in the most wacked out graduate program in the history of the universe. I mean, really. I have to write a ten page paper outlining my assessment of myself in regard to this program. I have to detail my interactions with others, their interactions with me, my growth in the program and on and on and on.

See what I mean? It's the robotic brain tumor. Watch out. It'll be coming for you next.

I'll give you eight dollars for a back rub

2010-01-19T12:06:00.003-08:00

It's not really that often that I discover I'm completely numb to the world around me. It starts with no time to care and it ends with a complete disinterest in caring. I'm not depressed, don't get me wrong. I'm just Meh.

Friend after friend is having a baby. I love all their little babies and I buy them toys and snuggle them when I get the chance. But, when it comes down to it, I'm just in a different place in my life than them. So I hear their struggles for sleep and their worries about whatever it is parents worry about and I feel bad that I kind of don't care. After all, I struggle for sleep and I worry about a lot of things, but no particular event in my life marks those things. They're kind of just who I am. So no one bonds with me about them. Except the rest of my personalities.

Book after book needs to be read. My reading list for this first year is incredibly long. And many of the books say the same thing as the next one. So I read one and then the one right after it states the same ideas, but in different words. So I glaze over and space out. I think about how I wonder who put together this list and did they design it for someone like me who gets this stuff pretty quickly? Without a lot of repetition? Who is in this graduate program after all?

Are you kidding me?

2010-01-11T10:02:00.004-08:00

Sometimes the universe is a beneficent entity capable of bestowing the most sought after gifts on the most unexpecting and gratitude-filled wonderously appreciative people. And sometimes the universe is a cruel bitch who honors her promise to give you all you can handle and does it in an incredibly short period of time. And sometimes, like the last four days at my residential conference, she is both.

I'm feeling the most exquisite pleasure, love, acceptance, and visibility that I've ever felt in my life. I'm also feeling the most undeniable horrific suffering, seemingly insurmountable challenge, judged, and misunderstood I have ever felt in my life. I tend to be dramatic, but these expressions are conservative estimates that inherently do no justice to what I intend to say.

All of this began as contained within my experience of my school. But lately, specifically the last two months, this experience has reached so deeply within my soul that I no longer see this as school. This, instead, is heaven and hell embracing me in a twisted custody battle raging after an unforgivable betrayal.

Sometimes when I get wordy (like I just did there) I find a creative sideshoot of my description that gives me a new way of looking at my experience and gives me new questions to ask myself. The one I see right now is, "What was the betrayal?" I guess I have yet another thing to distract me.

Also, someone incredibly important to me telling me that our conversation fed his soul...well I think that just made my year.

When she looks at me I know it's love.

2009-12-23T14:33:00.004-08:00

From the first day I saw her, I knew I would love her for the rest of my life. She was sleeping and about the size of a large hamster or a small guinea pig. How I could love someone who was otherwise a stranger to me felt a little odd. I imagine it must be how a parent feels when meeting their child for the first time.

It's an envisioning of a future love. It's the potential for love. But it's also a huge love. I wondered how long it would take me to get used to being her mom. Her, 6 weeks old, furry, black and white, barely able to walk straight. Happy and cuddly from the moment we laid eyes on each other. She slept in my arms the whole way home from Yakima.

And then we took her to Mud Bay to pick up her first puppy food. She had the worst puppy breath and she'd lick her puppy lips every time she'd let out a little puppy fart. She still does it, too. The puppy breath has gone away, but her flatulence signals remain.

She's always got this look of wanting to please me, of being curious about anything I am thinking or wanting, of where-is-the-snuggle-area mom? I love her. More than I can possibly ever say. She is my baby, my puppy, and she's lying on my belly right now. She's thirteen pounds of the sweetest love you've ever felt. And now she's snoring. I'm a lucky momma.

Second City

2009-12-17T15:18:00.005-08:00

After having an amazing imrov workshop the other day, I've decided that I'm ready to take on the big players. Or at least people who also think they're ready to take on the big players. I'm signing up for an improv intensive week or weekend with Second City.

I don't know that I want to spend an entire week or weekend in Chicago, partly because I've never been there and I hear weird things about it. For that reason, I may either make it a weekend or I may take my class down in Hollywood. Right, because that'll be any less weird?

The class is comparably priced to those around here, but it's SECOND CITY for sake of the baby Jesus! Second City! Where Tina Fey and Amy Poehler came from! Where Bill Murray and Steve Carrell came from! Where a bunch of people you've never heard of come from! Where the director of my improv troupe comes from! And she's amazing!

From one obsession to another. I thrive on intensity. I'm surprised I am not one of those people who latches hooks in to their skin and hangs from them. Hey....there's an idea!

Always catches me off guard

2009-12-16T10:54:00.004-08:00

I live a full life. I play hard. I work hard. I shop hard. I give hard. I take hard. I push myself hard. I love hard.

My life is thirty nine hundred shades of thrilling right now. There is only enough time in the day for about ten shades of thrilling. I'm trying to cram in all the thrilling. I'm making up for lost time. I'm living precisely as myself and tasting every drip of elixir the world will give me. Sitting in one place no longer lasts for me.

I pushed myself last night after my improv workshop to not check email, not check voicemail, not check Facebook, not do anything that involved other people or anything extroverted in nature. And I played Spider Solitaire for about an hour and a half. My hubby fell asleep while I was doing it. My dogs and cats fell asleep while I was doing it. My entire neighbordhood fell asleep while I was doing it.

And I got a chance to connect with me. It's something I've somehow mysteriously avoided for two plus months. My school has liberated my social self, my emotional self, my self that thrives on connection with others. And like a blindsiding speeding semi truck, I got hit last night.

I'm experiencing myself so fully with others and I'm laying my soul on the table for everyone to dissect and poke at and prod. I'm offering myself up to everyone I know as a learning experience. I'm an observer to the weird shit that's going on in my mind and my heart. I want to always be this open and transparent and free.

And yet somehow I feel trapped. And there's a gloom of depression wrapping me as I write this. Sadness at not experiencing this all before? Disappointment for not pacing myself? Fear of not getting to experience all of this?

I just don't know. But whatever it is, it's consuming me. I want to go hide in a teeny hole and ignore the universe until further notice. I need to pull the covers over my head and wait until the monsters go back in the closet.

And yet I choose to post this where I know it may be seen by people I know. I guess it's a new aspect of my sacrificing myself for the curiosity and education of others.

Or I could just be tired and have a sore throat. Yeah, I'll go with that.

This has to be a record

2009-12-09T11:12:00.004-08:00

I'm a posting fool lately! What is going on with that? Really want to know? Good, because I have an answer.

For a long time now I've been suppressing so many many things about myself. Mostly how much I want to be around people pretty much all the time. And now that I have somewhat of an outlet for that (grad school and two improv troupes), I am starting to see how much I really like it. And, following suit, is me yip yapping all the time with everyone I know. Sometimes it's about stuff that is important and sometimes it's about lame stuff.

But what it's done to my mind is to keep it constantly engaged in this socializing mode. And when I can't socialize, or can't do it very much, I need to have a place to squish out my thoughts. Thus, my blog. So what do I have to squish out today.

Well, I've been reading some things lately for school. One of them is about rank. All kinds of rank.

I've made a decision

2009-12-08T10:29:00.004-08:00

It's been a long time coming and I'm probably* not really serious about it**, but I am becoming a Buddhist nun. Why? you ask. Well, because Buddhist nuns have to relinquish so many things in life. And the one that gives me the most trouble of all is wanting sexy time. Yep, I said it.

Cheesecake/sex/whateverthefuckwe'recallingit is what gives me the most problems. It gives me the most fun, too....but really. When I'm single I'm completely insanely flirtatious*** and I collect boys like baseball cards. And now that I'm happily married, I am again becoming insanely flirtatious****, and it's to the point that I'm worried I really want to be flirtatious***. It runs in my family, what can I say?

I think what I need to do, if I am not to become a Buddhist nun is to find a way to enjoy the rush of feeling flirtatious**** feelings from boys without feeling flirtatious*** feelings from boys. It's all very confusing, no? Right, precisely why I'm devoting myself to attaining enlightenment through being a Buddhist nun.

*in this sense, probably = definitely
**Anyone who knows me knows how fickle I am so this should not come as a surprise
***promiscuous
****this one really means flirtatious

It's official

2008-05-14T18:01:00.003-07:00

I'm sick of Seattle. Not sure what it is precisely...but I'm just sick of it here. I'm sick of knowing who the rich families are, knowing that I'm not part of them, knowing that it would take a long while to get to being one.

I'm sick of Seattle's weather...it's been cold and dreary for 9 months now...though it will be in the 80s on Friday.

I'm sick of the suburbs of Seattle.

I'm sick of not having family here.

I'm sick of not enjoying all that Seattle and it's environs have to offer.

I'm sick of having lived here for 12 years and not having established a thriving social support system.

I'm sick of the people here.

I'm sick of how damp it always is here.

I'm sick that I feel like I am personally growing mold on my skin.

I'm sick of Seattle.

Anyone have any ideas of where the hubby and I can move that has full time jobs for psychology professors? (I can get a job in any city, I'm sure)

We have HOW many states???

2008-05-11T16:03:00.002-07:00

And, you're running for president? Nobama.

Obama is a douchebag.

File this under awkward

2008-05-09T11:42:00.003-07:00

My office is located reeeeally near the front door. It's not a comment on my status in the company....it's really luck of the draw. Anyhow. What this means is that sometimes I have to sign for packages because we don't have a receptionist or even a receptionist desk.

As the Fedex guy was leaving my office he told me to have a good Mother's Day. I have a couple comments here:

*When did MD become a wish-strangers-to-have-a-good-one type holiday? I can understand Christmas, St. Patrick's Day, or even Flag Day...but Mother's Day?
*This leads me to my second question...do I resemble a mother? Do my hips look as though they have produced a watermelon-sized human? Was I nagging him? Do I just look tired? Have I lost my edge?*

In other news, I recently left a small note to the janitorial people urging them politely to leave my picture frame on my desk alone. Every Monday, I come into my office and fine the frame detached from the back portion. Every Monday, I have wondered what the hell they possibly did to break my frame. Hence the note. So, as I was typing the above paragraph, I heard a weird sound and looked to see that my picture frame had just fallen into the oh-my-god-the-janitor-screwed-with-my-stuff position. Apparently I'm an ass.

*No, I'm not saying that just because someone becomes a mother all these things happen to them.

My experience with sleep disorders

2008-05-01T15:36:00.002-07:00

Here's a brief accounting of my experience with a nearby well-known sleep disorder clinic:

A month and a half ago:

Me: "My doctor thinks I have sleep apnea. Can I get an appointment for a sleep study?"
Them: "Well, you have to come in and have a consultation first, before you can have your study done. The clinic is always fully booked, so we're scheduling about a month and a half out. Expect to be here for at least an hour."

Today:

Me: "Hey, I'm here for my consultation."
Them: "Okay, here's what's gonna happen at your sleep study..."
Me (ten minutes later when they're done talking): "That was all in the brochure you sent me. Why did I need to come in for this consultation?"
Them: "That'll be $25 for your copay. Can you come in tomorrow for your sleep study?"

THAT took a while!!!

2008-04-30T11:35:00.002-07:00

About five years ago, I was working in a restaurant as a waitress. I used to hang out after work with random coworkers and drink alcoholic beverages on a regular basis. I was at a time in my life where I didn't really care whether I was hanging out with guys or girls...it was kind of all the same to me unless I was attracted to one of them (the guys usually).

Anyhoo, there was one guy who I was not at all attracted to, but he was funny and entertained me, so I agreed to get a beer with him one evening after work. For the longest time I could not remember where I knew him from because he didn't actually work at the restaurant. We ended up going to a comedy underground improv night on a different evening and it was actually pretty damn funny. Still not attracted to the guy. He made it clear to me that we were going as friends and that "friends go to see comedy shows together."

A week or so later, we ended up going to see the movie Elf(Keep in mind that I had NO attraction to this guy whatsoever and he clearly stated our comedy outing was a non-date). We ate a little dinner before the meal at the restaurant next door. Not attracted. We settled into our movie theater seats and chatted about random things. Still not attracted.

Then the movie theater lights went down and he stretched his arm up in the air. Still not attracted. He whispered to me, "I guess I still don't know how to put my arm around my date without resorting to highschool moves." "We're not on a date, silly." I said nervously. Ignoring me he said, "I can't wait to show you my moves later." The opposite of attracted.

I could tell he was serious. I could tell that he kept trying to grab my leg in the theater. I could tell that somehow he suddenly started thinking we were "dating" but forgot to mention his thoughts to me. I could tell that I was feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

The rest of the movie I spent turning my head away from him during the kissing scenes and laughing at all the moments I hoped would indicate to him that I was completely serious that I didn't want to date him. I was plotting what I would say at the end of the movie to get away from him as fast as possible.

At the end of the movie he grabbed my hand and leaned over to kiss me. So incredibly not attracted at this point. I pulled away and said, "Oh my gosh. I totally promised a friend I would tape ER for her tonight! I gotta get home, she'll be pissed if I don't! A promise is a promise after all, right?"

We got out of the theater and I patted him on the back and said, "Okay, tonight was fun. Let's get a beer next weekend or something. Oh, wait, I'm working next weekend. I'll give you a call and we'll do something in a couple of weeks or something. Unless... um, I'm working that weekend, too. Whatevs, I'll see ya again. At some point. See ya later." I ran across the street to my car and started up my Saturn. I waited four seconds for the car to warm up and drove home hurriedly.

I never spoke to him again. I drunk dialed him about a year afterward, but he didn't respond to my message. This is the end of this part of the story.

Around the same time, I was regularly hanging out with a female friend from work (wasn't attracted to her either) and we'd often get beer together after our shifts. For a while, our schedules conflicted and we didn't see each other very much. We weren't the best of friends or anything, so I didn't really miss talking to her. She was kind of a whack job anyway, so I was probably happier not talking to her. This went on for a month or so and then she started getting super cranky to me at work and talking crap about me behind my back. One day, we finally went out drinking again and we took a few shots of Jager together. After three or four, she blurted out something about how she knew what I was doing and that it wasn't going to work on her. She was smarter than that, she informed me. My "games" weren't going to work on her, she said. I told her I wasn't clear what she was talking about or whether she was joking. Our friendship was never the same after that.

Mutual friends would tell me that she "just thinks (I'm) a bitch" and "wow, she really doesn't like you!" I was completely stumped. And, she refused to answer any questions from me or return my phone calls. I was utterly confused.

Until now. I have no idea what caused me to finally connect the two, but she was the one who introduced me to the guy in my story. He was her friend initially. I still don't understand what crazy-lady was talking about, but now I know that she at least had SOME reason to be ruffled by me. Even if it was an insane one.

Meh.

What the hell is wrong with me?

2008-04-25T10:51:00.003-07:00

As I sat here, working, I realized that I was starting to have an intense and seemingly insatiable urge to shop at IKEA. I don't need anything at IKEA. My furniture is doing just fine. It's plants and beauty items that I've been in the market for lately, not assemble-it-yourself-household-items.

Pressed wood. That's what I was smelling. I don't know where it was coming from, but I was smelling it. And that's why I wanted to go to IKEA. It wasn't swedish meatballs, it wasn't anything else I could have possibly smelled at IKEA. It was pressed wood.

This leads me to the question... is this all part of IKEA's marketing? If it's not, it really should be. They should have a faint pressed-wood smell on their catalogues. It would totally boost sales. Anybody need anything while I'm there?

Some thoughts

2008-04-22T09:02:00.002-07:00

My yogurt (Harvest Peach from Yoplait and their 18-pack I bought at Costco) has been out of the refrigerator since about 7:00 this morning. It's 9:00 now. I peeled back the aluminum-like lid and the damn thing exploded goo all over me. And it didn't even take me to a movie first.

I was driving behind a Qwest service van (the local phone etcetera company) and I saw a bright orange thing hanging in the rear window. The writing on it warned me to "ALWAYS WEAR..." and it was hung in such a way that I couldn't tell what else it said. So, I'll be stuck the rest of the day wondering what I should "always wear."

One of my lower teeth has started to become a little crooked. Just slightly. It's not noticeable to anyone but me. The dentist actually strained to see it. And when she did, she basically told me that to straighten it would require that my gap between my two front teeth on the top be closed (because of how my mouth is set up) in the process. I love my gap. And then I looked at her teeth. The orthodontist lady. One of her bottom teeth was more crooked than mine. It was then that I decided I was being too vain. I'm going to keep my gap AND my slightly crooked bottom tooth.

The phrase that will save you trouble

2008-04-18T14:44:00.003-07:00

If you've been remarkably fast on your reports lately and you're dumping them on your boss faster than he can read them, he's bound to think that you will run out of things to do pretty soon. So when he asks you if you're going to run out of things to do what do you say?

"No. I have plenty of things to do!"

Even if that is not the case. Say it. Say it proud and say it as if you really meant it. Trust me.

Today

2008-04-02T16:56:00.002-08:00

Someone (a lawyer) told me I looked like a prude. Seriously. I guess I'm not sure what a prude looks like, but a 28 year old hot chick who wears tight sexy pants to work IS NOT a prude. What a fuck.

I'm feeling cooped up.

2008-03-15T11:35:00.003-08:00

I had to run a couple of errands today. Brian is out at some work thing today for another hour or so...so I'm unusually productive. Yes, I get so much more house work stuff done when my husband is off doing other things. Perhaps it's all the newlywed sex. I dunno.

Anyhoo, I dropped off some of my work stuff at the post office and headed toward the grocery store for some eggs. While I swung by that grocery store, I also stepped in to my favorite plant nursery...and bought a few too many things. I'm currently taking a break from planting everything I bought to nosh on some BBQ chicken quesadillas. Yum.

In all of my erranding I realized that there is plenty of room in my yard (which is close to a third of an acre) to build a chicken coop and a chicken run. So I looked into it. I would only need three chickens to get two eggs a day. And I won't need a rooster. And I can make a super cute chicken house! Awesome. BackyardChickens.com

Really?

2008-03-11T08:08:00.005-08:00

I had my annual exam yesterday evening. My appt was for 4:50pm, so I left work early to arrive with plenty of time. I got to the doctor's office at about 4:40pm. At 5:45pm I got called back to the examination room. At 6:30pm my doctor finally stepped in to see me.

I was all set to ask a bunch of questions about food allergies and my blood pressure reading (the nurse had told me I would have a pap that I didn't realize I'd have and my bp shot up to 144/78, which the doc retested and we discovered it was 124/78 - normal for me). The doctor told me to open my mouth and she stuck in the popsicle stick thingy.

"Do you tend to snore a lot?" she asked.

"Well...my husband claims I do."

"Hmmm... and do you stop breathing several times a night as well?" she continued.

"Uh, my husband claims I do that, too. In fact, he's been pressuring me for a couple of years to tell you. Why do you ask?"

"Because you have an unusually small mouth." she accused.

Stunned, I kind of just sat there. She further told me that I probably have sleep apnea, but I would need to undergo a sleep study to confirm or disprove that theory. I asked her what I could do to help whatever was wrong with me.

Her response? "Don't gain a bunch of weight."

I'm on the low end of the weight range for my height, so it's not like she was telling me I was fat. But the fact that now I have doctor's orders to not eat too much somehow makes life a little weirder.

In summation, I left work early to wait two hours to see my doctor who told me I have a problem I didn't realize I could because I'm on the thin side (sleep apnea is very rare among non-fat people) and now I have to sleep in a hospital overnight where they will videotape my every unconscious movement so they can officially diagnose me with a sleep disorder I never complained about and now will require me to wear an elephant-shaped device on my head when I sleep for the rest of my life. Gotta love modern medicine.

And you wouldn't have done the same?

2008-02-28T10:22:00.003-08:00

Something weird came over me yesterday. I had an intense desire to find out information about my ex. The first site I went to found him. It was classmates.com. I clicked to the Q&A section of his profile (that he apparently "newly" put up according to classmates). In it, I discovered that he's married and has a kid. Which absolutely surprises me. What I'm sure happened is that he was dating some subordinate at work, got her pregnant and had to marry her. So I checked the county marriage records...and they were married on a Tuesday (or at least someone with his name)....which pretty much points to a non-traditional wedding.

(I'm kind of obsessive, it's what people love about me)

So, I went back to my Classmates profile and clicked that I had a Masters Degree (lie), two children (not a lie if you count cats), that I snowboard (not a lie if you count me wanting to do that) and that I workout (also not a lie if you consider that I've been talking about working out potentially for years). Why did I do all of this? Because I'm absolutely positive he will check my profile. What?! Like he's ever going to contact me to find out all those things are false???

Because I don't blog about my work

2008-02-22T14:34:00.001-08:00

I will tell you a story about a friend of mine.

She is working on a large project that is essentially stalled at the moment. At her work is the general idea that, when working on something that is stalled, continue looking like you're working and bill your hours. That's just how it goes at her work. That idea, though, is kind of an underground, not official position of anyone at her work. It's rather one of those things that you pick up when you work a certain place. Still, my friend feels a little guilty because no one has come right out and said that it's generally accepted there to do this practice. Today is slightly different.

Her boss (walking up to her office door): Hi.
My friend (feigning cheeriness): Hi!
Her boss: Anything new with the project?
My friend: Nope.
Her boss: ... um... getting bored yet?
My friend: Yep. Don't worry though, I'm finding ways to amuse myself.
Her boss: Okay then.

A time in a young girl's life

2008-02-22T14:20:00.003-08:00

There comes a time in a young girl's life that she starts to notice a need for a pulling away from her mother. Women have convoluted relationships with their mothers. This is the case for every woman I have ever met.

The time when this happened to me? A trip to Knott's Berry Farm at about 11 or 12 years old. Days before the trip, my mom bought me a pale pink sweatshirt with 1.5 inch teddy bears all over it. She purchased the same for herself, only in a larger size. She then told me how adorable it would be if we wore them together when we went to the amusement park.

I had been going through the beginning stages of puberty and had started developing allergies. My eyes were swollen and red, my hair was messy and funky looking, and my eyebrows were as large as two caterpillars who had decided to die on my face. I have a photo from the day to prove this, but I refuse to submit it to you.

I was still clueless as to how wrong my outfit, etcetera was until I met the girl who would forever change my life. Her name was Donna and she was about 16. She smiled at my mom and I when she saw us and came over to introduce herself. She complimented us on our teddy bear sweatshirts and asked us where she could get one. Donna was being totally serious. And Donna was mentally retarded.

Revelations is not just a bible chapter

2008-02-21T12:21:00.003-08:00

I found a particular topic fairly amusing the other day, and laughed accordingly. I realized that, while I have several different laughs, I basically have one standby laugh that is kind of a baseline laugh, from which all others are merely additions and/or modifications. Though I don't yet know how to upload an audio clip of it, suffice it to say that it kind of sounds like a firework. Not fireworks, but just one firework. Singular.

There's the initial launch which kind of goes, "Hnnnmnnnmmmnn........." , then a teensy pause, and then 'boom' up in the air, "HHAAAHH!" Most regularly, this will be followed with giggling, which I guess is because I amuse myself.

I mentioned my astonishing discovery of this baseline laugh to my husband and he replied, "Yep. You always do that."

Me, "Really?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?!" I ask.

"I don't know....it's kinda cute and I didn't want you getting all self-conscious about it."

I can't believe I have a firework laugh and no one has bothered to mention it to me. I wonder what else I do that no one tells me about....

Did you know?

2008-02-13T10:58:00.001-08:00

That one gallon of water weighs 8.34 pounds?

What to do with 600 bucks!!!

2008-02-07T15:26:00.001-08:00

So what is everyone going to do with their government economic stimulation??? I'm planning on hiding mine in a mattress. Either that or I'm buying a lot of slurpees. Still not sure which is best.

Update: For those of you who don't have a clue what the hell I'm talking about (in this particular post only, I have no help for you otherwise), here is what I'm talkin' bout Willis: Click me baby.

Good god, she's adorable.

2008-01-31T14:11:00.001-08:00

Like any self-respecting parent, I have literally hundreds of pics of my new child, whom I have only had for less than two weeks. Like any self-respecting lazy person, this most recent round I have procured through the use of a friend taking the pics.

She's been hanging with the cats too much, methinks.

This is Giz (G as in Guiliani) distracting her.

And here she is giving love to a friend of ours.

Yep, it's official. I have the cutest dog EVAR.

Brit's finally under control (sorta)

2008-01-31T08:44:00.000-08:00

I know I said I was going to stop paying attention to her, but TMZ and Perezhilton got my attention.

It appears that Britney Spears has finally (again) been taken to psychiatric committal at UCLA hospital. Her parents are fighting for her care with her "manager" Sam Lufti.

I know that I don't know her personally, but after watching everything she's been going through, it seems like it's finally the time that she's going to get the help she needs. She's definitely got some mental problems and I'm feeling really peaceful about her getting help.

Let's hope this time it sticks and she is involuntarily committed for a couple of weeks. I'm crossing my fingers.

Oh, yeah, and the puppy had another play date last night with four other dogs and about ten people. She is showing no signs of frady-dog syndrome and she was even nibbling back at the one dog out of this group of friends that NO other dog will play with. His name is Gizmo and he's a weiner dog. Tug and Giz are now friends. Yay!

Zaika Indian rules my world

2008-01-30T09:09:00.000-08:00

For some reason last night on my way home from work, I pulled up to the left hand turn lane at the stoplight and instantly got a craving for Chicken Tikka Masala. We have been making an effort to eat in more lately, mostly to save money, so, I hesitantly mentioned to my hubby my craving.

His eyes lit up like I had just suggested nookie. He changed out of his pajamas and into clothes so we could both go into the restaurant to pick up our to-go food. At the last minute, we decided to bring the puppy (she's part of our pack and we find it hard to leave her at home, plus she needs the socialization for her puppiness).

We got to the restaurant, parked in a spot directly in front of and five feet away from the front glass door, and sat in the car for a moment pondering whether we should both go in with the puppy or one of us should sit in the car with her. He ended up cuddling and playing with her while I went in to pay.

Standing inside the doorway, waiting for her own to-go food, was a mousy lesbian-looking chick intently focused on a folded up newspaper. This seemed odd to me because most people say "hi" to me (I'm just one of those people that smiles at everyone), and she didn't even look up. I ignored her and when her food came, she hurriedly scurried out the door. Odd, I thought. What an unfriendly woman! Perhaps she was headed home to complain to her partner about how straight people oppress her?*

A minute later I had my bag of delicious Indian food in my hand and I headed out the door to my husband who had a completely pale face and a weird expression on his face. I figured that the dog poo-ed in the car or bit his man parts or something. But then he informed me that the mousy lesbian-looking woman in the restaurant who had snubbed me was his ex-girlfriend, with whom I had previously had a hilarious (for me) email encouter.

It seems she might have seen us chatting in the car before we came in. The two of them didn't even make eye contact as she headed out the door and neither gestured to the other that they recognized the other one. His revelation to me that this was her oddly stirred nothing for me. My jealousy did not rage and I didn't want to insult her like usual. Until I remembered that she made up a husband to insult me and then I started laughing.

He half-heartedly defended her and said that she was a nice person and that if I met her in another situation I would like her. I sensed that I was poking at a button I shouldn't poke. He took a long pause and said, "You know, I hate to tell you this, but..." My heart skipped a beat as I awaited what I worried would be the worst news yet. "...I think she's a Hillary supporter, so you might have to like her."

Surprised at his delivery and amused that she and I had something in common, I said the only thing I could, "Good, she can be my pawn in getting my Hillary elected."

*I completely respect gay and lesbians, anyone who knows me knows this. I read Perezhilton for gods' sake!

I may have them do me too when they spay my dog

2008-01-23T15:05:00.000-08:00

For months now, probably years, I have been excited to have children. I have wanted to see them grow and help their little minds develop. But after three sleep-unfilled nights with the most adorable puppy nature has ever created, I'm pretty much ready to give up the thought of ever passing my genes on.

She cries because she needs a drink of water. She cries because she needs food. She cries because she needs to go potty. And after every single time she needs to do something and then does it, she gets the urge to chew, no, to gnaw, on anything in the vicinity of her mouth. Generally that includes my hands or, once when I was incredibly unlucky, it was my left nipple. She's still pretty damn cute.

It's a girl!

2008-01-20T22:50:00.000-08:00

My hubby and I decided we needed to add a new face to our family. And here she is:

This was one of the few times she was actually awake. Who knew puppies sleep so dang much?

And then she fell back asleep and stuck her tongue out.

And here she is in deep sleep.

I can't believe I'm going to say this...

2008-01-16T15:07:00.000-08:00

But I'm pretty sure that I'm completely sick of hearing about Britney Spears and I'm going to stop buying magazines that have pictures of her. Wow, I feel better now that that is off my chest.

PETA has a new ad

2008-01-15T12:19:00.000-08:00

It's rare that I put videos on here, kids. In fact this may be the first time ever. But this is an ad for PETA about spaying and neutering your pets. It's kind of effective. And, it may not be safe for work due to the language.

Click here for the video.

Update: The retards at TMZ keep pulling up a different one than the one I put on there... so go to the PETA talking to Jamie Lynn one when you get to their website.

Kitteh - (Boring post)

2008-01-08T17:37:00.000-08:00

I wake up for work at about 7:15am every morning. At about 5:30am this morning, I opened my eyes to see my littlest kitty staring at me from 12 inches away. Just staring. It was cute and creepy all at once...I've had a boyfriend or two like that.

I gave her a little pet on her monkey head and asked what she was doing. She responded with a squeak. I pet her again and she swiped playfully at my wrist. My black hair tie had caught her attention. I took the tie off my wrist and set it in front of her. She bent down to it, picked it up in her mouth, and walked to the edge of the bed to lay down.

When I officially woke up at 7:15ish, I opened my eyes to see her staring at me (again) but this time from the end of the bed. I switched on the light, and she squeaked with delight, trotting up to my face, wherein she rubbed her head on my cheek.

Sometimes I wonder what I ever did without her in my life.

In lighter news...

2008-01-05T15:13:00.000-08:00

When the two of us were in Puerto Rico, we stopped by the Bacardi Rum Distillery and made this short video at their short-video-making-area:

Click here

updation

2008-01-03T20:48:00.000-08:00

The past few weeks of my life have been very very strange. I can't say that a lot of what happened surprised me, but it sure kind of came all at once.

As Cate mentioned, our dad had a major heart attack and required an incredibly risky surgery to save his life. On an average person, it gave him about 25% chance to get off of the table. On my dad, the fact that he survived was pure miracle (with a dash of incredible luck). Dr. Aqel, I thank you for saving my dad.

Much of the family left, and I had decided early on that I would stay with my dad while he recovered. I had the ability and something inside of me told me that I just had to. For many hours, it was me, my stepmom, and my dad, sitting in the hospital, chatting about anything that came up. Often the subjects most frequently talked about were death and reincarnation and emotions and feelings. I am thankful I was able to stay with him for all the time that I did. (Technically, I'm typing this from my stepmom's computer and am still in his house)

There are a lot of things I have learned about my dad. I have learned that in some ways he's taken care of himself and in many many ways he hasn't. I also realized that I think he's been depressed for some time. I discovered this after he took a xanax and turned into the dad I remembered from a long time ago, who for as long as I have known him, (though he provides welcome levity to any situation) is an astounding curmudgeon. After the six hour drive from the hospital (we missed a turn somewhere), the three of us were relieved to finally be at home. We sat and chatted up most of the night. We connected and reconnected and loved each other.

Sometime in the middle of the night, my dad got up to pee. He's had trouble balancing for at least a month, mostly centering around this heart attack he had three or four weeks ago. In addition, his legs are weak from lying around in a hospital bed for so long. In his effort to reach the bathroom, he lost his balance and fell directly into the corner of the wall. He and my stepmom attempted to control the bleeding, but the 2 inch gash the wall left in his upper left forehead demanded more than a bandage. For the next two hours, the two of them attempted to apply pressure to the wound, but she ultimately convinced him that calling 911 was necessary.

I somehow stayed asleep through all of this, and like the ostrich-like parents they are, they had not alerted me to the problem. Once she called and the ambulance was in transit to the house, my stepmom told me what happened and I got out of bed to survey the situation. My dad was lying in bed, with a cloth on his forehead and blood had soaked the carpet, from the corner of the wall to the bed.

The two of them rode in the ambulance to the hospital and I followed in my stepmom's car. At some point, before I had arrived, they had taken a CT scan of his head to see if there was any internal bleeding (standard procedure for someone who is on blood thinners, as those who have recently had cardiac surgery are). A few minutes after I arrived and saw my dad and his gauze turban, the doctor came into the room after he had reviewed the scan images. The first question the doctor asked was whether my dad had at some point had brain surgery, or if he otherwise had anything implanted in his skull. I realized then that there was another reason I stayed to be with my dad.

As of this minute, I am still the only person in my family to have seen the cancer in my dad's brain. There is a golf-ball sized tumor in the back of his brain that has eaten away at a significant portion of his skull. So much so that the particular area of his skull is paper thin. I resisted saying anything more to my dad and stepmom than "Your skull is paperthin, but they're not exactly sure why." There is never a right way to tell someone that they have a brain tumor.

I somehow convinced my dad to take a xanax before he had the MRI. He was dad only relaxed. And, he liked it. Once they were done with that test, it appeared that the growth is actually a metastasis from somewhere else in his body. Because my dad has been overwhelmed and steadily in the hospital for the past two weeks, he had no desire to be admitted to the hospital for the tests they wanted to run and left AMA. He also didn't like the hospital for several reasons, and he was concerned that he would miss out on the cardiac rehab, etcetera that would follow up the world class surgical miracle that was performed on his heart. "If my heart doesn't work, cancer treatment will be treating a corpse." I understand and respect his decision. In some Alice-In-Wonderland world, it is a reasonable decision. In fact, in any world it is reasonable given the circumstances.

I did my own research. It turns out that the cancer is probably prostate cancer. It regularly attacks bone (skull) when it metastasizes and he has had elevated PSA counts for years, though they have been level for quite some time.

He will be seeing his regular family physician tomorrow. The doc will be excited that my dad finally had a surgery he's probably desperately needed for some time. I only hope that my dad can find a way to address his depression, because that's the only hope he has for treating his cancer. Otherwise, I don't think he'll do it. This week I finally revealed to my dad that I'm taking antidepressants. If anything can get him to take them himself, it's someone who has been as staunchly and stubbornly against them as him taking them herself.

Throughout this past two weeks, he and I have had several deep conversations and we've said everything we'll probably ever need to say to each other. The most important thing that I hope he's heard is that we all care about him and want him to take care of himself. No longer will I take at face value the "quality of life" crap that he's thrown at me about why he doesn't want a medical treatment for something. I hope that this whole thing has taught him that he needs to take care of this cancer too.

Oh, my cruise/honeymoon was a lot of fun, too.

Where has I been?

2007-12-14T22:35:00.000-08:00

I will spare you most of the details, but in short, I have been working. I sent in my hours on Wednesday for the preceding two weeks and I was up to 111 hours. That's 55.5 hours per week. Seriously. And then yesterday I put in 12 hours in one day. And I didn't even look at one blog all day long! I worked the whole time.

And, today, my hard work paid off. I submitted my project on time and fully complete. And I left a couple of hours early. And, then I came home and started packing. Tomorrow, we leave on our honeymoon! Finally! It's only been one and a half years. Yippee!

I'm gonna miss my kitties. Are you gonna miss me? If you are, please go:

here
here
here

Because I said so. I go to all three of these sites on a daily basis and find it hard to believe that I will be without them for 10 days. Happy Christmas everyone!

Pet Peeve submission #321

2007-12-07T11:31:00.000-08:00

For god's sake....

the word is

"HEIGHT"

NOT

"HEIGHTH"

!!!!!!!!

I don't get it

2007-11-30T09:11:00.000-08:00

Why oh why can I absolutely not even find one iota of excitement for my birthday this Sunday???

An assortment of random shit

2007-11-27T17:56:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up from a nightmare about my mom and pie. Other than that, I don't remember a lot of the details... nnn ya.

My favorite boss and I (I have three of them) were working together on a work project this afternoon. One of the items we were discussing was a pawn store that has parking in the rear. He commented that most people who go to pawn stores probably prefer to park where no one can see them anyway. I didn't quite agree and mentioned that there were far more places that people would rather park out-of-sight than a pawn store. I then qualified my statement by disclosing that I didn't think I had gone to a pawn store before, though... or at least that's what I MEANT to say. Instead I actually said:

"I don't think I've ever been in a porn...(my eyes got huge) ...pawn... shop."

Before I could stutter those last two corrective words, he burst out laughing and said, "You don't THINK you've been in one?" And then I started giggling. In processing the moment (with him still sitting there working with me), I started to wonder if my pause made my original comment sound like I had somehow forgotten appearing in a pornographic movie, which was altogether too funny for me to let go of very easily. For the next few minutes, he continued doing both of our jobs and I struggled to contain my giggle-fit. Every time I believed I had it under control, a snort would burst through my defenses. I started to feel like a 14-year-old and got concerned that I was appearing incredibly immature. A few minutes later, this was dispelled when he appeared to withhold a giggle.

After a long day of moms, pies, and porn-utterances-to-my-boss, I came home to find a package on my doorstep. It was from my mom-in-law and it was an in-car GPS navigation system for my birthday!!! She's freaking awesome. I'm taking it that his parents like me? This is safe to assume, no?

Are you kidding me?

2007-11-25T16:40:00.000-08:00

Starting in September, I tell everyone around me to be excited for my birthday (december 2). This year I didn't really do that. Instead, I looked at the calendar today and realized that my birthday is next Sunday. How on earth did I forget about my own birthday?

Anyway, happy birthday to me. I'll be 28, which I believe still qualifies me as being in my mid twenties. Shut up, it does. The wildest I will probably get on my bday is a full glass of wine. And perhaps I'll make a note to play some shuffleboard on my cruise later this month with the other old fogies.

Working 9 to 5

2007-11-21T13:24:00.001-08:00

That's not actually true. I tend to work 8:30 to 5, but the cadence is off if I say it that way. Regardless, it's a heckuva way to start my post, because I'm really not posting as much lately as I feel I am. I've been meaning to mention something about my mood and attitude throughout the M-F week...but I keep getting distracted with...well, work. Gone are the days of yore when I could whittle away my time by online shopping, reading blogs, and general slackosity. Yes, I actually am fairly productive most days and put in a reasonable amount of work. As it turns out, actually-working as opposed to pretending to starts to bind and bond a person to their coworkers and work-environment.

My mood is no longer determined at work by whether or not Tim has posted Starburst pr0n. A lot of it is now attached to the general jovialness of the people in the office and how much of my current projects I have completed. Still, my mood follows a general pattern as the week progresses from Monday through Friday. Observe:

Monday - Still on a high from two days of home improvement and gardening, I return to work feeling refreshed in the morning and somewhat fuzzy-headed in the afternoon after mentally negotiating my way through various people who I work with. By the end of the day, I remember why I sometimes get frustrated, but I've relearned how to cope for the week.

Tuesday - Prepared for the worst the week can drive at me, I am "on" on Tuesdays. That's good, because Tuesdays are the most stressful days. Everyone else is getting back in the rhythm of the week and lodging difficult problems my way.

Wednesday - Hopefully, I've at least gone to lunch with someone one time this week already. If not, today is the day to do it. I'm not stressed at all. The week has mellowed a bit and I'm prepared for the worst. I go home knowing that the week is half overwith and every other week I get a paycheck on this day. It's pretty sweet.

Thursday - I'm starting to get grumpy, but as long as I've gone to lunch with someone earlier in the week I'm okay. Everything I've procrastinated about earlier in the week is catching up to me and people are wanting answers for their earlier questions. Hopefully, I've been productive and researched things or I'm in for trouble. The snobby girls in the office start to bother me, but I'm able to ignore them. I go home needing a nap...a long nap...which I will invariably not get.

Friday - I'm grumpy. Don't try to talk to me in the morning because I'm pretty sure I'm sick of everyone. Most of the day is spent with my door closed and I'm generally willing the time to go faster. At this point, all of my procrastination gets tangled between my feet and I'm tripping left and right. I work extra hard today and get everything done that I've missed earlier. I go home with nothing hanging over my head.

This week, it's gone like this:

Monday - work and chat with people - good mood
Tuesday - work a little less and chat with people - see turkey wrestling video and giggle the rest of the day - good mood
Wednesday - work even less and chat with more people - wish every week were this short - fabulous mood

Since everyone (Tim) is doing it

2007-11-13T12:56:00.001-08:00

I figured I would as well. I'm trying out my new blog from email knowledge. Did I do it right?

Vanity Smurf works at Target

2007-11-12T11:54:00.000-08:00

I have noticed that I command more respect at work and in the world when I dress well. I have also noticed that "dressing well" kind of just means wearing stylish clothes that show off my ...assets...eh hem. Considering the amount of attention I get when I dress... "well," I have started to invest in classic timeless clothes that will encourage me to stay reasonably thin.

Since highschool, I have stayed at roughly a size 6. Occasionally, depending on the manufacturer, I find myself pulling on a pair of size 9 jeans that are pretty snug. Or, when I shop at Ann Taylor I tend to see a size 2 on my clothes' tags. But, whenever I shop at Target, I'd say that the sizes are pretty right on. And, I don't tend to shop there a whole lot because every now and again, I'll have to wear a size 7 or 8 and I start to worry that I need to go on a diet.

Yesterday, I was shopping at Target and grabbed three or four pair of pants, each sized 6...crossing my fingers that I wouldn't have to lumber back out of the dressing room to find a size 8. I pulled the pants over my hips and had absolutely no problem getting them on. They were so easy to pull on that I wondered if I had grabbed a size 8 or 10 by mistake. But, no, they were a size 6 and they were baggy. And, the style of them was "stretch" so baggy just wouldn't work.

I decided that I really just didn't want the pants if they were going to be baggy. But, then I passed by the display of the pair that I really liked. I thumbed through the hangers and discovered there was one size 4 remaining. Without trying it on, I dropped it into my cart and proceeded to the checkout.

When I got home, I stripped down to my skivvies and pulled on my risky purchase. They fit pretty much perfectly. I am even wearing them today and I have to say that my behind is lurvely. I'm kind of sad and happy at the same time that Target has chosen to opt for Vanity sizing. If only I really was a size 4. Sure, it's nice to pretend that I'm a size 4, and I'm perfectly happy with being a size 6. I'd liken it to fantasizing about Russell Crowe...

By the way, American Gangster was good. Violent and bloody, but good.

I think you're craaaazzzzaay

2007-11-06T10:08:00.000-08:00

Some of you have shared with me that you currently are or have at some point been on antidepressants, mood stabilizers, or other psychotropic medications. And I've shared with you that I, too, am currently on a dosage of anti-anxiety pills, or as I like to call them - "crazy pills." They've changed my life in numerous ways and have played their role in helping me accomplish several goals and I expect them to continue to do so.

Until recently, I was staunchly against the use of psychopharmaceuticals. I believe it had to do with past use of pharmaceutically recreational substances. I'm not admitting to anything in particular. Suffice it to say that upon leaving those substances behind I had to pass through a very painful, humiliating, and unforgettable experience. Or really, series of experiences. I never want to revisit those moments, or those substances. So, somewhere deep inside, I equated legitimate pharmaceutical mind/brain related drugs with horrible things. Please understand that I am in no way saying crazy pills are for everyone, but I've seen the positive power they can wield for people, for me.

I'm not sure what finally convinced me to try them. It may have been Tom Cruise's thetanistic rampage against Matt Lauer, in which he asserts that he knows psychiatry better than others (Tom is not a guy I like). It may have been that pills had been suggested to me several times by people I trusted. Or it may have been that, after two and a half years of talk therapy, I understood what thoughts led to some of my anxiety and I understood that many of my anxieties were completely irrational, but when it came down to living my day-to-day life I was drowning.

As could be expected, my decision to talk to my doctor about my anxiety produced a wave of it. My pride had to be swallowed and the feeling that my nose was swollen and bulbous - which happens when I feel humiliated (it's a thing because of my mom) - was so present I contemplated getting a nose job before talking to my doctor. On a particularly brave for me, day I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants, downed a small glass of milk, and searched for my doctor's telephone number online.

My doctor was sweet and nonchalant about my request for help when I got to her office, which was reassuring. She told me that she had talked with quite a few people who had similar thoughts about psychiatric drugs as I did. I walked out that day with a prescription that I would soon find out I was allergic to, but with a perspective on my mental health that made me feel less like a cultural outcast than ever before. When I eventually found the drug I'm currently on, my life quickly turned up. My doctor, unfortunately gave me less than perfect advice on raising the dosage when it came time, but by then, the drug had reinstated enough of my confidence that I researched a more effective and less drastic way to slightly raise my dosage to the level my doc and I had agreed on. So far, so good.

The first time I had my prescription filled at my local drugstore, I worried what the pharmacist would think of me, but ultimately decided that, if my doctor had run into a lot of normal people who needed the drug, my pharmacist had probably run into more, and would therefore be even more accepting. I arrived at the counter and inquired as to whether my script had been filled. It had. The pharmacist was one of the warmest people I had ever met. She asked if I had ever taken the drug before. When I told her, "no," she described what it was for and how I should take it, and gave me warnings about contraindications. She finished with a knowing glance at my reddened, tear-stained face, "It's helped a lot of people."

Finally! After all that time of waiting I realized there had been no use in delaying my recuperation from whatever torture my biology and psyche were inflicting on me. Things got better fairly quickly and I started to feel an incredibly "normal" sense of being come over me: something that I hadn't felt since I was a teenager, probably about 15. My thoughts were more clear, my logic returned, and my chest was no longer vise-gripped.

Part of my anxiety comes with a fairly full helping of paranoia. It's really just anxiety, but commonly people refer to it as paranoia. (Paranoia is a much more developed sense that others are out to 'get me' rather than anxiety, which is a robust watchfulness of others, and includes an elevated level of self-monitoring). Every time I would get my crazy pills prescription filled I felt a swift change of demeanor in the pharmacy clerk once she read the drug name of my prescription. They always tense up after they see that I am getting an anti-depressant. I contrast this to when I pick up my birth control patch. I see no change in them after they read "Ortho Evra."

So far I have dispelled or at least discounted my thoughts about these pharmacy clerks. I've only been getting the crazy pills for 6 or 7 months, and that is a relatively small sample size from which to pull conclusions. Until last night.

I have achieved a plateau of results, it seems. Most of the major effects of the drugs appear within six months and after that, only minor differences appear, though much of the drug's therapy occurs from here on. It's kind of like how when you start a new job that you really like. At first, you are really happy that you have this new job, and a lot of things are happening, but it's really hard. And, after a while, you get used to the new place and the new activity tapers off, but you're left with a killer job and you start accepting that you deserve such a place. It is therein that the full effect of your amazing job starts transforming you. Once you believe it's there for you for good, and it's your choice to keep it or not. I choose to continue with my drug. I now also have a stable perspective on my own state of mind. One of my gifts in life is being able to read people. Quite a few people have witnessed this and will testify to my amazing-ness. Trust me. I'm still honing it, of course, but whatever.

I stepped to the counter and asked the pharmacy clerk for both of my prescriptions. She was friendly and kind and asked how my day was going, smiling the whole time. She found both of my drugs (crazy pills and birth control) and placed them both on the counter. Suddenly, her face was flushed and she was taking shallow breaths. Her head remained stable, and only her eyes were moving. She tried to conceal her discomfort, but I noticed, nonetheless. She refused to make eye contact with me and fumbled with the computer in front of her. After I paid, she nervously handed me the bag and told me to have a good night. She still refused to look me in the eye and her hands were slightly trembling.

The understanding part of me knows that it's a subject she's probably new to and she hasn't been exposed to people who use the drugs that look as relatively normal as I do. She's young. I get it.

But, the part of me that doesn't want to be understanding, the part of me that wants people to accept me - craziness and all - wants to scream a little. In this day, people still don't understand how much these pills can help other people. In this day, in our frazzled society, mental problems are appearing at a much higher rate than ever in history - part of that is because we now have effective treatments for them and part of that is because of the hurried pace of our world. In this day, a pharmacy clerk can't look someone who is normal and needs crazy pills in the eye - the simplest form of respect in our culture.

Sometimes I think the world is unfair, and the rest of the time I know it. I'm in a good mood, but I had to share this with you. Hug a crazy friend today, you guys. For me.

Kinda cute... in a creepy stalker way

2007-11-02T10:25:00.000-08:00

The other night, Brian and I went out to a thing for Thom Hartman. Beside the fact that I think he doesn't spell his name right, he only mildly entertains me. I kind of think he's a hack. But, nonetheless, he's got some sort of a message that doesn't entirely insult me. Brian really likes him. So we went to an evening at a local bookstore in which he was conducting an "intimate evening" with 400 people.

We got there late and figured we'd be standing in the hallway as all of the chairs were taken, or had people saving them for their friends. Or so we thought. Somehow, we ended up finding two seats literally about three feet from Thom in the front row. I was kind of annoyed at his talk and as it turned out, Brian wasn't too impressed either. But it was nice to get out of the house and see a bunch of crazy sign-toting Kucinich supporting wackos. There were several of them there.

As we were all filing out of the room and heading toward the long autograph line for Thom, a little Asian lady walked over to us. I should tell you that ALL EVENING LONG she kept looking at Brian and me. I kind of wondered if I had a big booger hanging from my nose or something. Every time Thom mentioned something about thinking positive thoughts before bed to make waking up easier, I'd get distracted by her gaze at us. So, fast forwarding to our shuffle from the room. She grabbed Brian's hand and said "I think that no matter how happy I was before bed, I'd find it near impossible to get out of bed in the morning if I had such a cute husband." And then she kind of made googly eyes at Brian. My husband.

Did a 50-year-old little Asian woman just make a play for my spouse? Or did she compliment me? I will note that not once did she look at me individually.

R.I.P. Bol (pronounced "bowl")

2007-11-01T12:54:00.000-08:00

April 2005 - November 2007

He was a very sweet part of our family. Swim on, little friend. We will miss you.

*This is not an actual picture of him, but it looks just like he did

I'm not bragging or anything

2007-10-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

but I just got a 20% raise. I love my job.

Mmmmm.....kay.

2007-10-21T17:56:00.001-07:00

Earlier this weekend, I was scrolling around Myspace and I looked in my highschool's section. I saw a girl who I haven't talked with since highschool, though we used to be fairly good friends (I thought so anyway - we used to have lunch together once or twice a week in a crowd of our friends).

So, I saw her and instantly thought it would be nice to say hi to her and see what she's been up to. I heard back from her today and this was her response:

"This is Jane* and hi. How have you been? Funny thing, I thought you were too cool to talk to me. Hope all is well."

Either I royally pissed her off in highschool or she needs to let things go after more than ten years. Or both.

*The name has been changed to protect the socially challenged.

Ahhh-tumn

2007-10-18T10:00:00.001-07:00

One thing that I enjoy during the fall is...well, the falling of leaves. Though our state is termed the "Evergreen State" that does not preclude us having many deciduous trees, which we do. A short thought train after that sentence and you will arrive at the conclusion that the streets are currently littered with many many orange, red, and yellow leaves. (There are a lot of bums, too, but that's a different post from a few days ago).

October and November (and December, January, and March) tend to be dark and grey with overcast-iness. This October is particularly so. I drove to work this morning (I'm lazy and didn't take the bus, plus I get reimbursed for parking) and escaped the dreary walk to and from the bus.

I'm in a fairly tall scyscraper and my office is on one of the highest floors. I've seen some strange things floating through the air outside my window, most of which have surprised me to some degree. For instance, I saw a plastic bag drifting past the glass of my window, though I'm pretty sure it found its way up from the street. One time I saw a lady bug peering in at me. They can fly, so that, too, was not so strange.

But, I just saw a brownish-reddish leaf drift down past my window. I had no idea trees could grow so tall. Or that they were invisible below the clouds.

They're advertising on bananas now??!!?

2007-10-15T11:30:00.000-07:00

Oh, nature's perfect food, what have they done to you?

What?? Am I royalty or something??

2007-10-12T14:27:00.000-07:00

I think I've mentioned that my individual office within my company's office is dangerously close to the front door. There's a considerable distance between my door and the company's door (about 20 feet) but it's close enough that, unless my door is tightly shut, I end up signing for about half the deliveries. And, our office manager who normally listens for such events and runs out to greet them is not here today.

So, I was in the middle of concentrating on some task. I'm sure I looked incredibly busy and possibly even rude as I rarely look up to see the door (I have managed to drown out the squeaking of the door now, which is apparently deliberately like that).

I heard a faint, "Helloooo?" and I looked up. The woman was in a bright blue polo shirt and had a small delivery in her hand and was staring straight at me. I smiled and said, "Hi." She responded, "Oh..." and looked at the floor, "So sorry to make eye contact... here's a delivery for you." She continued to look at the floor. I thanked her and told her to have a good day.

Since when are delivery people not supposed to make eye contact?

I decided that it's really my new face lotion. It's making me radiantly beautiful (more so than normal):

Oh, Seattle...

2007-10-10T16:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after work, I walked out of my building and looked across a busy street. I was surprised and shocked to see a homeless man masturbating. It was 5:00pm in broad daylight. I think he was trying to get arrested to get a place to stay. Yep, I saw a bum jacking off.

Then I was waiting for a bus and a guy who was apparently frying on acid, because he subtlely told me so (hard to explain) started a conversation with me. He told me how he was a movie producer and an actor and helping get his friend's CD out into the mainstream public. He got a little emotional on me and told me that he was going to get an ulcer because he was working so hard on his friend's music. I scrunched my nose and expressed my sorrow at this seemingly sad part of the story.

He then told me that it was a "happy ulcer, if there is such a thing." He then informed me that I shouldn't scrunch my nose. Ever. That he only wanted to see me happy. That I am "very pretty and the scrunching messes up" my face.

At this point, the little voices inside my head were telling me that he was harmless and that were I to run away a bigger deal would be made of the situation than necessary. So I stayed put. I then apologized for scrunching my nose and told him I would try to stay away from that activity.

He then got overwhelmed with embarassment and apologized for taking up so much of my time and said he was "just going to go over there" pointing toward the bus shelter. He repeated that I am pretty and apologized again.

Wow, what a day.

That's just weird

2007-10-08T11:58:00.000-07:00

I'm at that point in my marriage that my maiden name now sounds more foreign than my married name...and I had to look twice at an email I was cc-d on that included my married name. I almost corrected the person. My new identity is officially cemented.

Well, that's a strange way to be rewarded.

2007-10-04T09:53:00.000-07:00

I try to not talk about work on here. That's for several reasons. Yes, sometimes I talk about my... friend's work.... but .... yeah.

Anyway, I wanted to share something with you because I thought it was weird. I know, I know, that's pretty much all I do on my blog, but please bear with me. Or is it bare? I've lost my mind.

As I was working on a super long project (that will be finished in February of 2008), I glanced away from my computer to look out at the grey October Puget Sound sky. What caught my eye was my phone (which is near my window). There was a small little tag protruding from the side listing six people's extensions, and my phone had considerably less buttons than it did when I left yesterday evening.

Though the change caught me off guard for a moment, I soon recalled a conversation I had with someone who is slightly newer than yours truly. In it, he warned me that he would soon ninja my phone out of my office and replace it with a phone with less buttons. You already know this much so far, though. The reason, he explained to me, is because I am "moving up in the company" and "proving myself" to the extent that my need for answering the ringing phone is diminishing, and therefore, my need to alert coworkers of incoming calls by way of pushing their phone buttons is falling. Hence, I now have several less buttons.

You know what I don't like about this, though? I used to be able to look at the phone and see no little red lights lit up. From that, I could infer that there were possibly less people actually at work. And then I didn't feel so guilty leaving early...or going home to remote-in to work. But now, I actually have to get up off my butt and go check people's offices to see if they're around. Apparently they think I need the exercise.

So there you have it folks. I have less buttons and more need to walk... all because I'm good at my job.

My friend's work

2007-10-03T14:42:00.000-07:00

When my friend first started at her job they told her that the average weekly workload that was considered "fulltime" was about 35 to 37 hours. At first, my friend was working an average of 45 hours a week and loved the fact that at the end of the pay-accounting period (which is sixteen weeks long, not to be confused with the paycheck period of two weeks) she got a healthy bonus from all the overtime.

Since then, she's slacked off and averages roughly 37 to 38 hours a week. Not much overtime pay, but she sleeps in a lot.

Fast forward to this morning at her company's meeting. The bosses talked about how awesome everyone was doing, including her...they highlighted a recent report she had finished. And then they got to what they hope we all "can work on in the future."

They've reversed their stance on overtime -- previously, they promoted working the 35 to 37 hours, but now, they're wanting my friend's coworkers to work as much overtime as they want. Sweet, my friend's going to be getting some overtime pay soon.

This address available

Nearing the end of the saga

Kan-yes my sister is famous. :)

Le Sigh

Another sign of my continued growth

Turducken

Burn The Man

You gotta have frieeeeendship!

Back to where I started. But sooner this time.

Fireworks and conseling

Aaaaaaannnnddd.....I'm back!

Expiring

I'll miss you and I love you.

I understand the definition of anguish now.

This has to stop

(female) Friendship ball?

Dirty girl

Sigh

I like Slurpees

I hated that

Fickle

What I learned from a 6th grader...

Today I have a slight sad.

Yay

Why eating disorders are prevalent in our country (also titled: There are so many people who can fuck off)

Even though

Unemployment is kinda nice

Mmmmkay

Neato! The fog is lifting.

I *kinda* wish I was kidding

Jesus H. Christ

This just in.

Interesting at best

Exhausted

pummeling

Claritin, it's not just for your eyes

Too cool for skool

Got it!

Cross your fingers

Is there a reason you're looking at me like that?

Head

This is just getting silly

My drug of choice

Two at a time

Governor of California

I'll give you eight dollars for a back rub

Are you kidding me?

When she looks at me I know it's love.

Second City

Always catches me off guard

This has to be a record

I've made a decision

It's official

We have HOW many states???

File this under awkward

My experience with sleep disorders

THAT took a while!!!

What the hell is wrong with me?

Some thoughts

The phrase that will save you trouble

Today

I'm feeling cooped up.

Really?

And you wouldn't have done the same?

Because I don't blog about my work

A time in a young girl's life

Revelations is not just a bible chapter

Did you know?

What to do with 600 bucks!!!

Good god, she's adorable.

Brit's finally under control (sorta)

Zaika Indian rules my world

I may have them do me too when they spay my dog

It's a girl!

I can't believe I'm going to say this...

PETA has a new ad

Kitteh - (Boring post)

In lighter news...

updation

Where has I been?

I kinda wish I was kidding