For a few reasons. First and foremost... I GOT INTO ONE OF MY TOP CHOICES!!!! This is the first school I looked at, the first one I seriously considered. And now. I'm in. "Enthusiastically" in. AND I am being seriously considered for a scholarship, something I had mildly hoped for, but never thought would actually happen. (Not in general, just at this "known to be stingy" school.) I'm really excited. Now I'm just waiting on two more.
Then I got Sims 2 Weather expansion. Yes, I know. It's sad that a game can excite me that much, but it's so fun. They can grow gardens and go ice skating (where they fall on their asses) and play catch and get struck by lightening. It's just splendid.
AND I'm in a March Madness bracket thing with CW and I'm doing well. I have some cracked out picks, but for the most part. I'm tied for third currently. Though Butler has to keep doing well; otherwise, I'm screwed. Yes, it was risky, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. No guts, no glory, and all that.
It makes all the other craziness of this week (such as losing a room for a meeting, getting that room back, finding out that we had to send out a bunch of invites instead of other people...) not quite so bad. And SB is now 29, so I get to make fun of him that much more. :-)
Friday, March 16, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Things that Suck
1. Technology. After having our entire server crash because Microsoft's patch for the early hour change SUCKS, not being able to even be at my computer for most of the afternoon, and having my gym mp3 player suddenly decide to stop reading half of its memory card, technology is not high on my list. Add to that the fact that whomever I was stealing internet from has moved, and now I can't get online at home...
2. Tourists. Yes, I know, everyone here hates tourists. But during the lovely winter months, I had forgotten how truly horrid they are. If any tourists shall read this, don't take it personally. And don't take the metro before 9am. Or at 5:30pm. You clog the system, don't have the requisite balance for any kind of manuevers, clog the aisles, don't have to be there then, and don't really know when or how to get off. You must understand, those of us who aren't tourists have been or are going to be working all day. We just want to get where we are going in peace. You not only make our commutes harder, you remind us that there are people who are currently not working, who are having fun. Please spare all of us the need to beat you with something.
3. Water. I actually like water; however, drinking it means I have to pee entirely too often.
4. Listening to phone conversations that hardly acknowledge you while trying to sleep with a horrendous headache. SB decided to call his best friend last night. And then talked forever. Which is fine, except my having said horrendous headache and only wanting to sleep. Throw in hormones, him not mentioning me on the call, the lack of outrageous compliments from his friend (who usually tells SB to tell me he loves me...), plus the sheer tone of "my life was so much fun before you were in it" and you get what SB got. A not-happy me who says snotty things, acts pathetic (I really didn't feel well...), and then forces you to leave so I can go to bed.
2. Tourists. Yes, I know, everyone here hates tourists. But during the lovely winter months, I had forgotten how truly horrid they are. If any tourists shall read this, don't take it personally. And don't take the metro before 9am. Or at 5:30pm. You clog the system, don't have the requisite balance for any kind of manuevers, clog the aisles, don't have to be there then, and don't really know when or how to get off. You must understand, those of us who aren't tourists have been or are going to be working all day. We just want to get where we are going in peace. You not only make our commutes harder, you remind us that there are people who are currently not working, who are having fun. Please spare all of us the need to beat you with something.
3. Water. I actually like water; however, drinking it means I have to pee entirely too often.
4. Listening to phone conversations that hardly acknowledge you while trying to sleep with a horrendous headache. SB decided to call his best friend last night. And then talked forever. Which is fine, except my having said horrendous headache and only wanting to sleep. Throw in hormones, him not mentioning me on the call, the lack of outrageous compliments from his friend (who usually tells SB to tell me he loves me...), plus the sheer tone of "my life was so much fun before you were in it" and you get what SB got. A not-happy me who says snotty things, acts pathetic (I really didn't feel well...), and then forces you to leave so I can go to bed.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Thorny roses
Every morning, I get up and turn on the TV to watch the Today show while I dress and drink tea and such. Most mornings, I get cheesy stories and mildly informative discussions. Today, however, I got mad. Not at the show itself, but at a school, at society. They brought on three girls. These girls are in high school and performed at an open mic night. These girls used a word the school admin had asked them not to and have been suspended for one day. They haven't served this; the superintendent is reviewing the decision. The word these girls used? Vagina. That's right. Vagina. And not in any negative, derogatory, or dirty way. They just read a paragraph from The Vagina Monologues, and not one of the racy ones. One of the empowering ones. The school's reason for not wanting this word used? There might be young children in the audience, since it was open to anyone who wanted to come.
Are you kidding me?! First of all, there was another act that used "fuck" in their performance. Are they expelled? Nope. But girls who named a freaking body part are. Why is our country so afraid of these organs. Why should we worry if small children hear the medical terminology for their own damn body parts? One of my coworkers pointed out that he could understand the school's reasoning, as people are crazy. Which I get. Yes, parents are nuts. But first of all, The Vagina Monologues was written in part as a commentary about the fact that vagina has, for some reason, become a dirty word. What kind of message does that send women? Your body is dirty and gross and wrong? Yeah, because that's what I would want my daughter to think. I admire these girls for standing up for what they believed. Second of all, the parents who think these things are wrong are teaching their children the most that their bodies are dirty and that sex is evil. Shouldn't school try to at least educate these kids on the basic facts at least? Schools shouldn't be so afraid of complaining parents that they forget their purpose as institutions of education.
This also ties to an on-going argument in the world of children's librarians. Apparently, some librarians are upset because one of the Newbury winners has the word "scrotum" in it. Again, not in any sexual kind of way, but just factual. "The dog licked its scrotum," or something along those lines. And that, apparently, is reason enough for people to not read this book, for them to worry about "age appropriateness." Hello? People? Males have scrota. If the author had said "balls," would anyone be upset?
Both these events make me wonder about the power of words, and what the fear of certain words means. People have to be afraid of these words for a reason. Why do some of us feel that children need to be protected, not from derogatory or cruel words, but scientific, anatomical ones? Is it because using medical terms makes the objects seem more real? But why would that matter? Is it because these are sex body parts? Because, I hate to tell you, sex is necessary for the continuation of the species. These adorable little girls and boys are going to grow up, have sex with their "thingies and hoo-haws," and ensure that our species does not disappear into the night. Keeping children ignorant is not going to prevent this (luckily) and instead will lead to some rebellious and horribly ill-informed teens.
Are you kidding me?! First of all, there was another act that used "fuck" in their performance. Are they expelled? Nope. But girls who named a freaking body part are. Why is our country so afraid of these organs. Why should we worry if small children hear the medical terminology for their own damn body parts? One of my coworkers pointed out that he could understand the school's reasoning, as people are crazy. Which I get. Yes, parents are nuts. But first of all, The Vagina Monologues was written in part as a commentary about the fact that vagina has, for some reason, become a dirty word. What kind of message does that send women? Your body is dirty and gross and wrong? Yeah, because that's what I would want my daughter to think. I admire these girls for standing up for what they believed. Second of all, the parents who think these things are wrong are teaching their children the most that their bodies are dirty and that sex is evil. Shouldn't school try to at least educate these kids on the basic facts at least? Schools shouldn't be so afraid of complaining parents that they forget their purpose as institutions of education.
This also ties to an on-going argument in the world of children's librarians. Apparently, some librarians are upset because one of the Newbury winners has the word "scrotum" in it. Again, not in any sexual kind of way, but just factual. "The dog licked its scrotum," or something along those lines. And that, apparently, is reason enough for people to not read this book, for them to worry about "age appropriateness." Hello? People? Males have scrota. If the author had said "balls," would anyone be upset?
Both these events make me wonder about the power of words, and what the fear of certain words means. People have to be afraid of these words for a reason. Why do some of us feel that children need to be protected, not from derogatory or cruel words, but scientific, anatomical ones? Is it because using medical terms makes the objects seem more real? But why would that matter? Is it because these are sex body parts? Because, I hate to tell you, sex is necessary for the continuation of the species. These adorable little girls and boys are going to grow up, have sex with their "thingies and hoo-haws," and ensure that our species does not disappear into the night. Keeping children ignorant is not going to prevent this (luckily) and instead will lead to some rebellious and horribly ill-informed teens.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Busyness
It's been weird these past few weeks. I've actually been decently busy at work, enough so I don't get a chance to write or check blogs daily. I can't handle it!! Except I really kind of prefer it, even if I still hate my job. At least this way, the day goes by faster, even though today has been both busy and dragging, so that the remaining minute portion of the day seems as though it will take forever. But it shan't, and then I shall force my way through the winds and the cold and climb the ridiculously large hill and be home with my kitty. And I shall drink my new, "good for your liver" tea and watch tv and wait until SB comes over, hopefully with food. And then we shall watch the glory that is Gilmore Girls.
I did dream about Gilmore Girls last night. I believe I switched from being Lorelai to being a friend of Rori's who was staying with her in a foreign country where everyone spoke English and where I was living in a big house with them. They were all playing video games and I was forced to join them alone, because Rori was upstairs with Logan. There was also a whole part about Cassie being there and getting to go outside and absolutely loving it, which we all know wouldn't really happen because she's a big scaredy cat who frequently growls at people walking down the hall and gets antsy when she hears people upstairs. Needless to say, it was strange.
I also heard from my "ridiculously hard to get into and it will be a complete and utter miracle if I do" school today. As you clearly should have known from the lack of exclamation points and excitement, I didn't get it. Which is what I expected, so it's hard to be disappointed. Especially since I had to lie and say that I wanted a PhD, and I would have to move. Now we have one more "ridiculous" category, one I'll probably get into, but not get funded, and two toss-ups, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. If I don't get into the last two, I'll be sad. Though at least I do have my back-up school, even if they are poor and can't offer funding for at least the first semester....
I did dream about Gilmore Girls last night. I believe I switched from being Lorelai to being a friend of Rori's who was staying with her in a foreign country where everyone spoke English and where I was living in a big house with them. They were all playing video games and I was forced to join them alone, because Rori was upstairs with Logan. There was also a whole part about Cassie being there and getting to go outside and absolutely loving it, which we all know wouldn't really happen because she's a big scaredy cat who frequently growls at people walking down the hall and gets antsy when she hears people upstairs. Needless to say, it was strange.
I also heard from my "ridiculously hard to get into and it will be a complete and utter miracle if I do" school today. As you clearly should have known from the lack of exclamation points and excitement, I didn't get it. Which is what I expected, so it's hard to be disappointed. Especially since I had to lie and say that I wanted a PhD, and I would have to move. Now we have one more "ridiculous" category, one I'll probably get into, but not get funded, and two toss-ups, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. If I don't get into the last two, I'll be sad. Though at least I do have my back-up school, even if they are poor and can't offer funding for at least the first semester....
Friday, March 02, 2007
Screaming at the top of my range
Well, I was going to write a wrathful and entertaining post about differences in generations, stirred up mostly because of comments from a coworker, but alas. The first half of today I was lethargic and the second half I was busy. Crazy busy. I feel like I've been running around like mad. And I just have the feeling that I'm forgetting something...
My choir director has now thoroughly freaked me out. Primarily because she asked me to sing a descant on our big Palm Sunday piece. For those of you who don't know, a descant is sung by a small group who sings a higher part than the rest of the choir. This part interweaves and accents the other parts. It's more of an icing-on-the-cake part. I've sung descants before without any problem. The problem with this descant is that it is insanely high. As in a C-flat. Again, for none music people, a C-flat is crazy high. Like Mariah Carey high. I'm a mezzo-soprano; I don't do crazy high. However, in the interest of being a good choir member, I told my director that I would try. Emphasis on try. Another interesting aspect to the whole thing is that trying involves vocalization exersizes to strengthen your throat. If I scream as high as I can in my apartment, someone is going to think I'm being murdered. Plus, my poor cat will be traumatized (she's a pansy anyways). And I won't really know how high I'm singing, since I don't have a piano. I did download the piece and I know the high note in "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera is a B-flat, so I'll have a general idea of when I'm getting close. The whole thing could wind up being very interesting. AND I think she's going to start making me sing first more. I don't WANT to sing first soprano. I LIKE being a second. It's more fun and challenging and I don't actually like singing high. Sigh. That's what I get for doing a solo this summer. Otherwise, she'd never have known that I can sing...
My choir director has now thoroughly freaked me out. Primarily because she asked me to sing a descant on our big Palm Sunday piece. For those of you who don't know, a descant is sung by a small group who sings a higher part than the rest of the choir. This part interweaves and accents the other parts. It's more of an icing-on-the-cake part. I've sung descants before without any problem. The problem with this descant is that it is insanely high. As in a C-flat. Again, for none music people, a C-flat is crazy high. Like Mariah Carey high. I'm a mezzo-soprano; I don't do crazy high. However, in the interest of being a good choir member, I told my director that I would try. Emphasis on try. Another interesting aspect to the whole thing is that trying involves vocalization exersizes to strengthen your throat. If I scream as high as I can in my apartment, someone is going to think I'm being murdered. Plus, my poor cat will be traumatized (she's a pansy anyways). And I won't really know how high I'm singing, since I don't have a piano. I did download the piece and I know the high note in "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera is a B-flat, so I'll have a general idea of when I'm getting close. The whole thing could wind up being very interesting. AND I think she's going to start making me sing first more. I don't WANT to sing first soprano. I LIKE being a second. It's more fun and challenging and I don't actually like singing high. Sigh. That's what I get for doing a solo this summer. Otherwise, she'd never have known that I can sing...
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Idiocy, et al.
I've decided on my new career path. I'm going to be a professional class-taker. Or a graphics design person, except that our graphics design person was talking yesterday about all the desperate resumes they get from starving artists, even though the firm is two people big and has no intention of hiring anyone. I'd rather not be a starving artist. I like my food. :-) Mmm... I had Luna Grill's salmon last night. That salmon is amazing. Though, actually, last night it wasn't quite up to its usual foodgasm status. It was still very good, but not crazy good. I think they didn't give me enough lemon butter caper sauce. Anyways, all this comes from taking a suprisingly entertaining and educational design class on Monday. Twas much fun.
I did find out on Monday that I got into my back-up school. Yay for back-up school goodness!! Now, at least, I'll have SOMEWHERE to go. I remember saying a few months ago that I wasn't worried about getting in places, just getting funded. It's a lot easier to say that when you aren't staring the possibility of not getting in anywhere in the face. Which apparently happened to both of my parents. I mean, they only applied to one school each, but my dad didn't get into med school first go around. Who knew? Certainly not me... Apparently, a year later he got in and kicked everyone else's asses, gradewise. My mom said not getting in, which she blames on her lack of academic commitment in undergrad, is her one regret. Which is not too shabby, seeing as how not having a masters in music didn't seem to slow her down any. She was passionate about practicing in undergrad, though. Apparently, at her senior recital, the graduate professors were asking who she was. My mom's teacher told them, "The girl you turned down for grad school!" I feel there is an implied "dumbasses" at the end of that statement.
SB finally returned from Florida, after what can only be called the returning from Florida hell trip. United has no support from me and I shall try to avoid flying them at all costs from now on. It is one thing to cancel or delay flights for real weather reasons. It is another entirely to be incompetent, lie to your passengers, offer no real customer service, and then blame all that on weather that is happening miles away from the flight route. SB was supposed to get home Saturday at 10:30pm. He got home Monday at 1:10am, and that was only because I found him a cheap ticket on another airline. UNITED had him coming home Wednesday morning. Morons. Anyways, his attitude upon return this time was much more acceptable this time than last time. We shall almost declare him forgiven. He may be completely forgiven upon viewing of my presents.
I did find out on Monday that I got into my back-up school. Yay for back-up school goodness!! Now, at least, I'll have SOMEWHERE to go. I remember saying a few months ago that I wasn't worried about getting in places, just getting funded. It's a lot easier to say that when you aren't staring the possibility of not getting in anywhere in the face. Which apparently happened to both of my parents. I mean, they only applied to one school each, but my dad didn't get into med school first go around. Who knew? Certainly not me... Apparently, a year later he got in and kicked everyone else's asses, gradewise. My mom said not getting in, which she blames on her lack of academic commitment in undergrad, is her one regret. Which is not too shabby, seeing as how not having a masters in music didn't seem to slow her down any. She was passionate about practicing in undergrad, though. Apparently, at her senior recital, the graduate professors were asking who she was. My mom's teacher told them, "The girl you turned down for grad school!" I feel there is an implied "dumbasses" at the end of that statement.
SB finally returned from Florida, after what can only be called the returning from Florida hell trip. United has no support from me and I shall try to avoid flying them at all costs from now on. It is one thing to cancel or delay flights for real weather reasons. It is another entirely to be incompetent, lie to your passengers, offer no real customer service, and then blame all that on weather that is happening miles away from the flight route. SB was supposed to get home Saturday at 10:30pm. He got home Monday at 1:10am, and that was only because I found him a cheap ticket on another airline. UNITED had him coming home Wednesday morning. Morons. Anyways, his attitude upon return this time was much more acceptable this time than last time. We shall almost declare him forgiven. He may be completely forgiven upon viewing of my presents.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Holding out hope
I checked on the internets today, and there may be hope for Studio 60!! This excites me, as I have fallen madly in love with this shows and its characters. It's just so good. And they always cancel good shows before they've really had time to get popular. And yes, I know it has been taken off the air. This, according to my sources, though is temporary. They did the same thing with 30 Rock, and both shows should be back some time in April.
I also have fallen in love with the band Girlyman. I saw them with Dar Williams a couple of years ago, and liked them enough to buy the cd. I bought it, but never really listened to it. And then, a week or so ago, I started listening to it and now I'm entirely obsessed. They just have such great harmonies and interplay and... it's just so good! I'm considering going to see them in Vienna (Va, sadly, not Austria). They're having a cd release party. The only problem is that it is right around SB's birthday, and I'm not sure I want to force activities on him on his birthday weekend.
I did just post about Smores on another blog. This was probably a mistake, as it has led to me craving (what else?) smores. I'm not allowed smores... Sigh.
I also have fallen in love with the band Girlyman. I saw them with Dar Williams a couple of years ago, and liked them enough to buy the cd. I bought it, but never really listened to it. And then, a week or so ago, I started listening to it and now I'm entirely obsessed. They just have such great harmonies and interplay and... it's just so good! I'm considering going to see them in Vienna (Va, sadly, not Austria). They're having a cd release party. The only problem is that it is right around SB's birthday, and I'm not sure I want to force activities on him on his birthday weekend.
I did just post about Smores on another blog. This was probably a mistake, as it has led to me craving (what else?) smores. I'm not allowed smores... Sigh.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Home Again
Sigh. I'm back at work again and already wishing to be gone. Gone for good! That would be lovely...
So my trip home was nice. I will, in a short few weeks, be the proud owner of perfectly fitting pants and jackets. As long as I don't lose or gain any weight or muscle... I got home and was promptly bitten by my former kitten, who now thoroughly is my mom's. He bit me hard enough to draw blood, nicely on my face so I went around all weekend looking as though I had food on my mouth. Then when I got back to DC, Cassie attacked me, too. Well not as quickly. But she really went after my arm this morning.
The bigger news today is that Lent has started. It's going to be rough. I always hate these first few weeks. I'm giving up dessert, soda, and all non-wine alcohol. I may just cry, as I love dessert and hot chocolate with Baileys. But that's the point. It's a sacrifice. And it'll help make me healthier, so I can't whine too much.
SB is still in Florida. His family goes down to visit his grandparents who winter down there and to see the Daytona. I am SO glad I'm not there, though one of my favorite of his relatives is down there, too. But all they do is eat and shop. And eat some more. And then hang out in the trailer park. Which is fine for them. It makes them happy, whatever. But I want to do more on my vacations. Not that I did much more at home, but going home is a different sort of vacation. My mom did support my need to have dessert before the beginning of Lent, to the extent that the only thing she cooked for dinner on Saturday and Sunday was an apple pie. A frozen apple pie. It was delicious. I also finally saw Wordplay, a highly entertaining documentary about crossword puzzles. I may or may not now be addicted to crossword puzzles, though not to the extent that I would want to compete. And it'd be nice if SOME of the people didn't exactly fit the stereotype.
I also finally saw The Devil Wears Prada. My mom asked me if it made me feel better about my job. I said no, primarily because moments before she had asked me that, I'd been thinking that I'd rather have her job than mine. At least she was going places and meeting people. And her boss had her crazy expectations set out. Here, they just lie in wait and then mug you when you least expect it.
So my trip home was nice. I will, in a short few weeks, be the proud owner of perfectly fitting pants and jackets. As long as I don't lose or gain any weight or muscle... I got home and was promptly bitten by my former kitten, who now thoroughly is my mom's. He bit me hard enough to draw blood, nicely on my face so I went around all weekend looking as though I had food on my mouth. Then when I got back to DC, Cassie attacked me, too. Well not as quickly. But she really went after my arm this morning.
The bigger news today is that Lent has started. It's going to be rough. I always hate these first few weeks. I'm giving up dessert, soda, and all non-wine alcohol. I may just cry, as I love dessert and hot chocolate with Baileys. But that's the point. It's a sacrifice. And it'll help make me healthier, so I can't whine too much.
SB is still in Florida. His family goes down to visit his grandparents who winter down there and to see the Daytona. I am SO glad I'm not there, though one of my favorite of his relatives is down there, too. But all they do is eat and shop. And eat some more. And then hang out in the trailer park. Which is fine for them. It makes them happy, whatever. But I want to do more on my vacations. Not that I did much more at home, but going home is a different sort of vacation. My mom did support my need to have dessert before the beginning of Lent, to the extent that the only thing she cooked for dinner on Saturday and Sunday was an apple pie. A frozen apple pie. It was delicious. I also finally saw Wordplay, a highly entertaining documentary about crossword puzzles. I may or may not now be addicted to crossword puzzles, though not to the extent that I would want to compete. And it'd be nice if SOME of the people didn't exactly fit the stereotype.
I also finally saw The Devil Wears Prada. My mom asked me if it made me feel better about my job. I said no, primarily because moments before she had asked me that, I'd been thinking that I'd rather have her job than mine. At least she was going places and meeting people. And her boss had her crazy expectations set out. Here, they just lie in wait and then mug you when you least expect it.
Friday, February 16, 2007
I Hate Them with the Passionate Fires of a Thousand Burning Suns *
This week has been thoroughly shit-tastic. Well, except for Wednesday. Wednesday was a day of glorious calm in the midst of the storm. The eye in the hurricane, if you will.
And what has made this week so horrendous? Primarily working for hypocritical morons who could care less about their employees. Which might make sense if I worked for a large corporation, such as Walmart. But I don't. And it makes me want to scream and jump up and down and perhaps shove them. All not wise, but what I would like to do. Or go on a mad rampage using big words just to prove that I am smarter than they are.
Also, Metro may force me to murder someone. Not anyone in particular, but if anything is going to make me hate someone that much, it will be being shoved into other people's armpits, pushed until I can hardly breathe as if standing outside the train and pushing will make everyone inside a little skinnier and thus enough room for one more person, unable to get out because some people refuse to step outside so others can get out, and late for everything always. I mean, really Metro. We've known for a good long time that there was going to be winter weather this week. And it snows a tenth of an inch in the morning and a whole segment of the blue line goes out? Are you kidding me?? And right when the Federal Government closes, a train breaks down? Weather is only an excuse when it's really bad and unexpected.
Plus, while SB is/was back (he has now left again for Florida to watch people drive really fast in a circle), he also could not manage to stay awake at all. Jet-lag only goes so far as an excuse, so therefore I was not particularly happy with him. He knows this and had better be better when he gets back next weekend. Though Wednesday dinner was lovely and fun and could almost redeem him, except he has decided that I love Bath and Body Works stuff and that therefore means he can get me stuff from there for every present ever. I believe I have squashed this idea now, but still. I like Bath and Body Works, but it's got to be like the most generic present ever and I don't understand why guys don't get that. I'm pushing for diamonds (no, not THAT kind of diamond. A necklace or something.) for my birthday.
Luckily I'm going home where I shall let my parents pamper me. And not worry about the fact that my healthy eating habits have somewhat fallen by the roadside this week, because next Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, and the beginning of Lent, which means no sweets or non-wine alcohol or soda.
*I'm trying not to hate them. I really am. I know that hatred only hurts me. But they're just SO DAMN OBNOXIOUS... [deep breaths, deep breaths]
Monday, February 12, 2007
Call me "Your Majesty"
I went this weekend with some friends to see The Queen. It was good, definitely made me like the British more, definitely made me like the Queen more... I think we could even be friends. After all, I like the subtle British wit, I like walking, I like well-behaved dogs... We'd be set. I was suprised by how nice they were to Charles. His, shall we call it, strangeness still came out, but they didn't emphasis it at all.
The thing that struck me as unusual, though, and made me think was not anything directly from the movie in that it was reality and I remember thinking this at the time Diana died. There was so much outpouring of emotion. Genuine emotion, from people who had no real connection to her. And it wasn't just the British who were captivated by her. It seemed as though everyone was, and then everyone was devestated when she died. One of the people interviewed in the movie (I believe the clip came from news reels at the time) said she just kept hoping that it was all a dream, that she'd wake up and Diana would still be alive. And her death was a shock. But how does one person come to mean so much to so many people? I can't imagine anyone right now, any celebrity, any politician, any do-gooder whose death would have as much of an impact as Diana's did. I can imagine being saddened by a public figure's death, but my life most likely wouldn't be changed. I wouldn't feel heart-rending emotion, I wouldn't spend hours traveling to lay flowers down on a gate. If someone I knew and loved died, I would have that kind of emotion and experience. But for someone I had never met? What did Diana come to represent that meant so much to so many people? The epic underdog? The "real-life Cinderella?" I just don't get it...
The thing that struck me as unusual, though, and made me think was not anything directly from the movie in that it was reality and I remember thinking this at the time Diana died. There was so much outpouring of emotion. Genuine emotion, from people who had no real connection to her. And it wasn't just the British who were captivated by her. It seemed as though everyone was, and then everyone was devestated when she died. One of the people interviewed in the movie (I believe the clip came from news reels at the time) said she just kept hoping that it was all a dream, that she'd wake up and Diana would still be alive. And her death was a shock. But how does one person come to mean so much to so many people? I can't imagine anyone right now, any celebrity, any politician, any do-gooder whose death would have as much of an impact as Diana's did. I can imagine being saddened by a public figure's death, but my life most likely wouldn't be changed. I wouldn't feel heart-rending emotion, I wouldn't spend hours traveling to lay flowers down on a gate. If someone I knew and loved died, I would have that kind of emotion and experience. But for someone I had never met? What did Diana come to represent that meant so much to so many people? The epic underdog? The "real-life Cinderella?" I just don't get it...
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
You Vipers' Brood
A coworker forwarded the office an article today in the NY Times about early childhood education in Oklahoma. Now, the article was talking about the impact a preschool program for all kids is having on the kids of lower-wage families. Kids in lower-wage families are more likely to not be read to, or paid as much attention to. This winds up leading to the "word gap," the gap between the number of words a child of highly educated/paid parents knows, and a child of lower-income, lower education levels parents. I'm not saying this in any way, shape or form to be critical of these lower-wage parents. Some of them can't read well themselves, and if you are barely able to afford food, how are you going to spend money on a book? I'm not excusing them either. Some parents in that situation find ways to work. They go to the library with their kids, they come home exhausted and read to them. Anyways, I'm just saying it's a complicated issue.
But what made me mad about the whole thing is that apparently churches are lobbying AGAINST the state providing universal pre-k, something that can increase the educational successes of these kids and make them better prepared for life. And why are these churches lobbying against this? Because they don't want to lose the money from their preschool programs. Are you kidding me?! What kind of Christian spirit is that? Here is this program that can help the poor, improve kids' lives, and you are more concerned about making money? No wonder so many people have a negative view of Christianity... Reminds me of the whole money changers thing from the Bible.
But what made me mad about the whole thing is that apparently churches are lobbying AGAINST the state providing universal pre-k, something that can increase the educational successes of these kids and make them better prepared for life. And why are these churches lobbying against this? Because they don't want to lose the money from their preschool programs. Are you kidding me?! What kind of Christian spirit is that? Here is this program that can help the poor, improve kids' lives, and you are more concerned about making money? No wonder so many people have a negative view of Christianity... Reminds me of the whole money changers thing from the Bible.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Feeling Fruity
So I've been trying to get my company to buy us a fruit bowl in order to encourage health in the workplace. I was just joking; we're tiny, we have the money, but it's not a priority. I also have been trying to get us the little exercise balls for our desks, but that really goes nowhere. Mainly because Pres. would think it is tacky-looking, and we aren't allowed to have anything tacky visible. But yes. So fruit bowl. Our VP came in yesterday and had brought us a kings cake, in honor of Mardi Gras. He was in New Orleans this weekend, so he picked one up. It quickly vanished. I got the baby, which means I should have good luck for the next year, appropriate since I'm the person in the office who needs the most luck. We were teasing VP about the cake, saying he was making us unhealthy. He laughed, but then today announced that he was buying us the fruit of the month club from Harry and Davids. Which is SO nice. I feel like he is partly just a good guy and partly trying to buy us off, but either way, I'm okay with it.
In other exciting, slightly food-related news, only a few more days until SB returns! I was talking to him last night and he was all like, "I miss you..." I, not being in a sappy mood and feeling a bit cranky after he made me call him back (a major effort requiring the dialing like 6 different numbers), was having none of it. "You don't miss me, you miss the food. In fact, I think you're just excited to get back and get Cracker Barrel," I replied. I do this a lot. Let's face it, I love sappiness, but not so much being sappy. This time, however, it backfired. "We don't have to go to Cracker Barrel," he said. "I didn't think we'd go immediately anyways..." Now, people. I have been looking forward to one of their amazing apple dumplings for WEEKS. I have eaten primarily my own food for over a month. And I have had no sweet tea. I want Cracker Barrel, he's flying into Dulles, which means we'll be close to Manassas. I have been planning on this since he first began his list of missed foods (ie week one when he left). I don't care if I have to basically kidnap him, I am getting my dumpling.
In other exciting, slightly food-related news, only a few more days until SB returns! I was talking to him last night and he was all like, "I miss you..." I, not being in a sappy mood and feeling a bit cranky after he made me call him back (a major effort requiring the dialing like 6 different numbers), was having none of it. "You don't miss me, you miss the food. In fact, I think you're just excited to get back and get Cracker Barrel," I replied. I do this a lot. Let's face it, I love sappiness, but not so much being sappy. This time, however, it backfired. "We don't have to go to Cracker Barrel," he said. "I didn't think we'd go immediately anyways..." Now, people. I have been looking forward to one of their amazing apple dumplings for WEEKS. I have eaten primarily my own food for over a month. And I have had no sweet tea. I want Cracker Barrel, he's flying into Dulles, which means we'll be close to Manassas. I have been planning on this since he first began his list of missed foods (ie week one when he left). I don't care if I have to basically kidnap him, I am getting my dumpling.
Monday, February 05, 2007
The "'Rents" Versus the Real World?
So I was watching The Today Show this morning and they had a report on the newly passed law in Texas requiring all girls of a certain age to get the HPV vaccine. There is a HUGE uproar about this. The two people brought on to be interviewed clearly did not like each other, or respect the other person's viewpoint. Poor Meredith completely lost control. Now the governor of Texas was a bit obnoxious about how he passed the bill, basically ignoring everyone else and just doing it. But I couldn't help but listen to the side against him and wonder what they are so afraid of? They are claiming that the science does not yet support mandatory vaccinations (like six medical groups disagree, including the AMA, the American Pediatric Society, and American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists), it infringes on parental rights, and it might encourage riskier sexual behavior.
First of all, I can see the parental rights argument, but I'm not sure I buy it at all. For one, in the Texas case, the parents can easily opt their kids out. But mainly, my problem stems from the thought that a parent wouldn't want to prevent their daughter from getting cancer. Why would you not want to protect your kid from everything possible? I can't help but wonder if this were a vaccine against leukemia or lung cancer if parents would be so upset. Obviously, there would still be some parents who wanted to opt out for religious reasons. I'm torn, though, about whether or not they should be allowed to. How much right do parents have to completely control their children, to the possible detriment of the children's health? I honestly don't know. Then again, do we really want the government to have all control? Because that seems a little screwy, too. I guess all we can do is strongly encourage people to get their kids vaccinated. Those who don't listen, well, those kids will be helped by the decrease in the number of infections anyways.
Now the whole "this will encourage risky behavior" makes me so mad I want to jump up and down, preferably on the people who are saying this. Are you THAT bad of a parent, is your influence over your child so small that you can't guide them towards safer behavior on your own? Why is this the constant back-up argument for the religious right on sex issues? Why is it so necessary to keep teens in the dark? Now, teens might be foolish, they might take unnecessary risks. But they are going to do that anyways. At least tell them how to protect themselves. Why are we as a society so afraid of the increase of teen-age sex? Studies don't back up this fear; the most recent reliable one showed that the age of loss of virginity and the number of pre-marital partners across society has stayed relatively stable. And say more teens do start having more sex. Will the world end? I doubt it. There might be a few more bitter people at younger ages, but no fire and brimstone. I'm not saying teens should be having sex. I don't think they should. I don't think it's wise and I don't think they are emotionally ready for it and I think it'd be great if everyone waited until they got married. But that's not reality.
First of all, I can see the parental rights argument, but I'm not sure I buy it at all. For one, in the Texas case, the parents can easily opt their kids out. But mainly, my problem stems from the thought that a parent wouldn't want to prevent their daughter from getting cancer. Why would you not want to protect your kid from everything possible? I can't help but wonder if this were a vaccine against leukemia or lung cancer if parents would be so upset. Obviously, there would still be some parents who wanted to opt out for religious reasons. I'm torn, though, about whether or not they should be allowed to. How much right do parents have to completely control their children, to the possible detriment of the children's health? I honestly don't know. Then again, do we really want the government to have all control? Because that seems a little screwy, too. I guess all we can do is strongly encourage people to get their kids vaccinated. Those who don't listen, well, those kids will be helped by the decrease in the number of infections anyways.
Now the whole "this will encourage risky behavior" makes me so mad I want to jump up and down, preferably on the people who are saying this. Are you THAT bad of a parent, is your influence over your child so small that you can't guide them towards safer behavior on your own? Why is this the constant back-up argument for the religious right on sex issues? Why is it so necessary to keep teens in the dark? Now, teens might be foolish, they might take unnecessary risks. But they are going to do that anyways. At least tell them how to protect themselves. Why are we as a society so afraid of the increase of teen-age sex? Studies don't back up this fear; the most recent reliable one showed that the age of loss of virginity and the number of pre-marital partners across society has stayed relatively stable. And say more teens do start having more sex. Will the world end? I doubt it. There might be a few more bitter people at younger ages, but no fire and brimstone. I'm not saying teens should be having sex. I don't think they should. I don't think it's wise and I don't think they are emotionally ready for it and I think it'd be great if everyone waited until they got married. But that's not reality.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Raising teenagers. Or hell. Or both.
Well today is the big day. My office is getting all new computers. Which is exciting in that we'll have newer, faster computers, and not so exciting in that having an outsider here is a little annoying. We knew our old IT guy. He was nice, a part of the extended family. But no... he had to leave to go 'pursue his dream.' Plus he was kind of cute and I could make SB jealous by telling him IT guy was coming. Though the new guy does seem nice. And hopefully he won't look through my internet records and see a. my crazy searches at work and b. how much time I'm doing weird stuff online. Nothing illegal or amoral. Or really weird, actually, since it primarily consists of reading blogs and articles on MSN. I just work better as a multitasker, and I frequently don't have much interesting to do at work. I still do the other stuff. It just bores me so I do other stuff, too.
SB will be back a week from tomorrow. I'm excited, though it'll be a little weird. It's just been me and Cassie for so long! Though she's been getting on my nerves like none other lately... I think she's going through the whole teen-age years for cats. Because she is testing boundaries and pushing her luck. She's going to get locked in the closet to calm down one of these days. She decided to run laps on me this morning at 5:30, then last night wouldn't stop scratching my clothes... see, she likes to knead certain clothes, but with her claws out. I am not such a fan of that. I moved the clothes, she moved. I threw socks at her, she ignored me. She's very good at ignoring me. Then she attacked my foot while I was doing yoga. Very exhausting. It's hard enough to stay balanced, and with little claws and teeth pricking your feet? Nearly impossible. And she keeps trying to climb in my lap while I'm eating so she can have my food. I just want to eat in peace!
SB will be back a week from tomorrow. I'm excited, though it'll be a little weird. It's just been me and Cassie for so long! Though she's been getting on my nerves like none other lately... I think she's going through the whole teen-age years for cats. Because she is testing boundaries and pushing her luck. She's going to get locked in the closet to calm down one of these days. She decided to run laps on me this morning at 5:30, then last night wouldn't stop scratching my clothes... see, she likes to knead certain clothes, but with her claws out. I am not such a fan of that. I moved the clothes, she moved. I threw socks at her, she ignored me. She's very good at ignoring me. Then she attacked my foot while I was doing yoga. Very exhausting. It's hard enough to stay balanced, and with little claws and teeth pricking your feet? Nearly impossible. And she keeps trying to climb in my lap while I'm eating so she can have my food. I just want to eat in peace!
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Peas + Homelessness=Yummy Goodness
You should all be quite honored. I am... WRITING A BLOG FROM HOME. I know, I know. Control the gasps of surprise. I was even going to post a picture of Cone-y (ie Cassie when she was forced to wear her cone), but the software on my computer is being stupid and I'm too lazy to install my other. Yes, yes. I've had this computer for a year now and I still haven't put all my old software onto it. I also haven't really cleaned up my ipod or figured out all the songs on my mixed cd's. So really. This all should be no surprise.
Anyways, I've been meaning to write about peas for a while. Yes, I said peas. Some of you may be wondering, "Why on Earth would a woman write about peas?" Well, it's actually in honor of Jordan Baker, who recently mentioned the children's series The Borrowers. Now I adored these books. One of my first reading memories is of me curled up next to my mom on her bed, her reading those books to me. There also was some other book that had funny paper and was about some kind of fairy who lived in a flower or something. We started that one like 6 times, but never got through it. Anyways, I love those memories, and I loved those books.
Now the night Jordan Baker got me thinking about old books, I came home and was scrounging for some veggies in my freezer and I came across a bag of frozen peas. I then microwaved them and melted some butter and it was all good. BUT. The combo of the peas and the old books reminded me of yet another favorite childhood series... The Boxcar Children. Some of you may have read The Bobsey Twins or Nancy Drew. None of those for me. No, instead I read The Boxcar Children. These books were great. The story started with four children who were supposed to move in with their mean old grandfather. Rather than do so, they run off and find an old boxcar to live in. They support themselves, doing chores to earn money, stealing from gardens... Basically, every kid's dream. Eventually they are rescued, find out their "horrible grandfather" is actually amazingly kind and rich, and go on to solve many a mystery together. Now, back to peas. I have discussed this with other Boxcar readers and I am not alone in this. One of the BEST parts of the first book? Was the food. I don't know how the kids do it, but they seem to make the most appealing food consisting mainly of vegetables I, at my wise old age of 7 or 8, had ever heard of. It sounded amazing. Which, being older and wiser, I can see was probably a good thing, as it encouraged kids to eat veggies. The author of these books has since passed on, but I hope she knows that every single time I eat a pea, I think of her series.
Also, I just found out that there is a Boxcar museum in Connecticut. It might be totally lame, but I so want to go. Road trip!
Anyways, I've been meaning to write about peas for a while. Yes, I said peas. Some of you may be wondering, "Why on Earth would a woman write about peas?" Well, it's actually in honor of Jordan Baker, who recently mentioned the children's series The Borrowers. Now I adored these books. One of my first reading memories is of me curled up next to my mom on her bed, her reading those books to me. There also was some other book that had funny paper and was about some kind of fairy who lived in a flower or something. We started that one like 6 times, but never got through it. Anyways, I love those memories, and I loved those books.
Now the night Jordan Baker got me thinking about old books, I came home and was scrounging for some veggies in my freezer and I came across a bag of frozen peas. I then microwaved them and melted some butter and it was all good. BUT. The combo of the peas and the old books reminded me of yet another favorite childhood series... The Boxcar Children. Some of you may have read The Bobsey Twins or Nancy Drew. None of those for me. No, instead I read The Boxcar Children. These books were great. The story started with four children who were supposed to move in with their mean old grandfather. Rather than do so, they run off and find an old boxcar to live in. They support themselves, doing chores to earn money, stealing from gardens... Basically, every kid's dream. Eventually they are rescued, find out their "horrible grandfather" is actually amazingly kind and rich, and go on to solve many a mystery together. Now, back to peas. I have discussed this with other Boxcar readers and I am not alone in this. One of the BEST parts of the first book? Was the food. I don't know how the kids do it, but they seem to make the most appealing food consisting mainly of vegetables I, at my wise old age of 7 or 8, had ever heard of. It sounded amazing. Which, being older and wiser, I can see was probably a good thing, as it encouraged kids to eat veggies. The author of these books has since passed on, but I hope she knows that every single time I eat a pea, I think of her series.
Also, I just found out that there is a Boxcar museum in Connecticut. It might be totally lame, but I so want to go. Road trip!
Monday, January 29, 2007
Catching Up
I'm very sad about the whole Barbaro thing, so I'm going to ignore it and write on happier topics.
I talked to Emily yesterday. It was funny. It was like the first time in over a year that we've talked, and I'd thought about calling her earlier, like last weekend. But there was the whole general malaise, and I was a bit worried that we wouldn't have anything to talk about. Ha. Um. Our short little call turned into a nearly two hour call. Apparently, I am somewhat responsible for her friend's (Jana? Something like that) addiction to the DC blog scene. J, as I shall call you because I'm pretty sure at least that your name starts with that letter (You may pretend to be from Men In Black if you'd like), please don't judge all of DC by the blogging scene. It's a bit crazed. Which, actually, is like DC and probably an accurate representation of teh populace. But there are some non-crazed people here, such as myself. So don't write us all off. It was also nice to get blogging validation. I kind of waver on what my blog should be, and wind up writing whatever pleases me. I feel my blog may have a bit of an identity crisis at times. But to hear that someone likes it enough to be sucked into the blog scene... Now that just gives me warm fuzzies.
Emily is, of course, doing lovely. We did have a possible insight into the lack of guys who dare to ask girls like us out, and we decided a good portion of it could be our age. See, early to mid-twenties is a time full of self-discovery, and figuring out who you are. A good deal of this involves going through crap where you doubt lots of stuff about yourself. Now, Emily and I and a good portion of my good friends are the type of girls who are strong in and of themselves. We don't need a guy to protect us or tell us what to do or think. We need guys who are as strong as we are, so they can be our partners, and we really won't accept anything else. These types of guys at our age are still figuring out who they are. They can't be strong enough for us yet because they aren't sure how much strength they've got. Now obviously there are exceptions to everything, blah, blah, blah. But the fact is that I think the world of most of my friends and I know that eventually they will all meet people who make them utterly happy and who fit them to a tee. Now I probably won't say that these eventual guys will be worthy of them. But I know that they are out there, being put through the fire, so that they will at least come close.
I talked to Emily yesterday. It was funny. It was like the first time in over a year that we've talked, and I'd thought about calling her earlier, like last weekend. But there was the whole general malaise, and I was a bit worried that we wouldn't have anything to talk about. Ha. Um. Our short little call turned into a nearly two hour call. Apparently, I am somewhat responsible for her friend's (Jana? Something like that) addiction to the DC blog scene. J, as I shall call you because I'm pretty sure at least that your name starts with that letter (You may pretend to be from Men In Black if you'd like), please don't judge all of DC by the blogging scene. It's a bit crazed. Which, actually, is like DC and probably an accurate representation of teh populace. But there are some non-crazed people here, such as myself. So don't write us all off. It was also nice to get blogging validation. I kind of waver on what my blog should be, and wind up writing whatever pleases me. I feel my blog may have a bit of an identity crisis at times. But to hear that someone likes it enough to be sucked into the blog scene... Now that just gives me warm fuzzies.
Emily is, of course, doing lovely. We did have a possible insight into the lack of guys who dare to ask girls like us out, and we decided a good portion of it could be our age. See, early to mid-twenties is a time full of self-discovery, and figuring out who you are. A good deal of this involves going through crap where you doubt lots of stuff about yourself. Now, Emily and I and a good portion of my good friends are the type of girls who are strong in and of themselves. We don't need a guy to protect us or tell us what to do or think. We need guys who are as strong as we are, so they can be our partners, and we really won't accept anything else. These types of guys at our age are still figuring out who they are. They can't be strong enough for us yet because they aren't sure how much strength they've got. Now obviously there are exceptions to everything, blah, blah, blah. But the fact is that I think the world of most of my friends and I know that eventually they will all meet people who make them utterly happy and who fit them to a tee. Now I probably won't say that these eventual guys will be worthy of them. But I know that they are out there, being put through the fire, so that they will at least come close.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Plus One
Our society has an issue. Well, several issues, but one that the Today Show and Real Simple yet again brought to my attention. Showing real plus-size women is just anathema in today's media. Which is just ridiculous, especially since Americans are getting bigger and bigger. See, the Today show had a segment on what jeans people should wear to flatter their body types. Real Simple provided the jeans and the models. Their plus-size model can't have been over a size 12. Probably closer to 10. That's not plus-sized. Same with most of the plus-size models out there. Yes, it's great that they have women modeling who are in the double digits of sizes. But if you're a ten, you are not representative of the women who actually are plus-sized. It's like the Lane Bryant models. They cannot be wearing the clothes Lane Bryant makes without those clothes being modified. So, really. What's the point? You have plus-sized store but then show all the women who shop there that they aren't really pretty enough or sexy enough to represent the store? And smaller sizes then become stigmatized as well. So now a size 10-12 is big? What then is normal? 4-6? 2-6? 0-6? That seems like a great trend. Rather than encourage people to be healthy, whatever their body type, let's encourage them to strive to be as tiny as possible. That won't make everyone miserable, I promise...
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Sticks and Stones
Apparently, Tijuana police now have a new weapon against crime... slingshots. This article, for those of you interested, describes how the police in Tijuana, a place known for its crime problems, have had their guns taken away and replaced with slingshots. This seems an interesting tactic. Now I'm anti-violence and don't particularly like guns. But this still is a bit odd. Let's take people who are already in danger (13 policemen, 300 people total were killed last year in Tijuana) and give them stones to whirl at people.
Along this same line, the protestors from opposing sides in Lebanon have apparently started throwing rocks at each other. I know the situation in Lebanon is very sad and very serious. And these incidents also involved road blockages, and burning cars. But picture this. Two groups of angry people, seperated by barriers and police, throwing ROCKS at each other across the distance? It's mildly amusing.
Outside of interesting news stories, my life has been pretty slow. I'm finally doing yoga again, with the goal of being ridiculously flexible, and it's actually helped me to sleep. SB being gone has made me much more productive, although it's made going to the gym much harder. My apartment is cleaner, I've been cooking, I've knit some. I'm reading Lolita. I went to see Martha Grimes speak at B&N. He keeps trying to convince himself that Cassie misses him, but I'm not sure that she does. She is sleeping with me at night, which is very cute. She all stretches out against my legs and keeps me warm. Though I think she must be going through yet another mad growth spurt, since she is eating like mad. And getting much more vocal. She begs for EVERYTHING. I look at the kitchen, she runs to the fridge and begs me to open it (She likes to jump in. I'm not particularly fond of that desire...). She begs for and tries to get on the table to eat my food. She begs for me to rehang up her mouse so she can play with it. It's kind of funny, since her begging is more clucking and less of a meow. Sigh. Some blogs have been highly derogatory about cat ladies, but I will freely admit that I love cats. Not enough to clean up after like a zillion of them. But enough to admit that they make me happy.
Along this same line, the protestors from opposing sides in Lebanon have apparently started throwing rocks at each other. I know the situation in Lebanon is very sad and very serious. And these incidents also involved road blockages, and burning cars. But picture this. Two groups of angry people, seperated by barriers and police, throwing ROCKS at each other across the distance? It's mildly amusing.
Outside of interesting news stories, my life has been pretty slow. I'm finally doing yoga again, with the goal of being ridiculously flexible, and it's actually helped me to sleep. SB being gone has made me much more productive, although it's made going to the gym much harder. My apartment is cleaner, I've been cooking, I've knit some. I'm reading Lolita. I went to see Martha Grimes speak at B&N. He keeps trying to convince himself that Cassie misses him, but I'm not sure that she does. She is sleeping with me at night, which is very cute. She all stretches out against my legs and keeps me warm. Though I think she must be going through yet another mad growth spurt, since she is eating like mad. And getting much more vocal. She begs for EVERYTHING. I look at the kitchen, she runs to the fridge and begs me to open it (She likes to jump in. I'm not particularly fond of that desire...). She begs for and tries to get on the table to eat my food. She begs for me to rehang up her mouse so she can play with it. It's kind of funny, since her begging is more clucking and less of a meow. Sigh. Some blogs have been highly derogatory about cat ladies, but I will freely admit that I love cats. Not enough to clean up after like a zillion of them. But enough to admit that they make me happy.
Monday, January 22, 2007
It's like a car crash
I think blogger may be messing with my mind. I just went to a blog that I know I checked on Friday. Friday, there was no new post. Today, there is one dated last Wednesday. Sigh. I just don't know. Then there is the whole DC blog-war of which I only recently became aware and which I can't figure out, primarily (I think) because a lot of it went down at a blogger happy hour, and I can't find out who one of the main offenders is. Not that I really care that much (not actually knowing any of these people). But it's kind of like a soap opera. And a car crash. You know you shouldn't watch/slow down to look, but you can't seem to drag yourself away.
Sigh. I'm trying not to be mad at SB. Because while I know him being gone isn't entirely his fault, it still kind of is. He did agree to go first, before trying to back out. If he had never agreed in the first place, it would have been a different story. And I TOLD him I wouldn't do well with this whole thing. I told him in a few different ways. He, being foolish, thought, "well, since we'd talked about it, I figured it was all okay." Dumbass. So now my stomach is bothering me, no big surprise since this weekend wasn't exactly full of rainbows and unicorns. (Why unicorns? I don't know. They seem happy. And I watched Dodgeball like three times and there's the scene in Melody's-not her real name, but her name from pre-skankhood and Hey Dude days-apartment with all the unicorns.) I kept thinking, "I should call so-and-so, I haven't talked to her in over a year" but then I would decide that I didn't really want to talk to people. And SB, who promised to text a lot, only sent one text. And there are no emails or phone calls from him on the weekend. So now I'm trying not to be vindictive and refuse to call him tonight.
If I don't call him tonight, though, there will be good reasons. To stave off my thoughts, I'm going to go to a Martha Grimes thing at the B&N near me. Ms Grimes is coming to speak and sign and, while I'm not a huge fan, I did highly enjoy the one book by her that I've read. And she's moderately famous, particularly in the mystery genre (not one I usually frequent, but whatever), and it'll get me out. Plus today's my mom's birthday, so of course I must call and chat. It's all about hte distraction, people.
See, I've decided my whole problem is that I'm too smart. I get bored and need something to think about. So I start analyzing myself. "Picking," as SB would call it, a term I usually find inaccurate unless I actually am trying to make myself cry or something. It's not good to spend hours analyzing yourself. It can make one a bit neurotic. How to avoid it, though, is something I'm still struggling with. I could write it out, yes, but that forces me to come face-to-face with everything in writing. I could read, but at such times, it can be hard to settle my brain down. I can watch tv, but I wind up not really paying attention. It's a dilemma, yes, and un cercle visceaux, one which is best stopped by avoiding it in the first place by doing something. So that is the plan. And if I happen to not have enough time to call SB, well too bad for him. That's what he gets for leaving.
Sigh. I'm trying not to be mad at SB. Because while I know him being gone isn't entirely his fault, it still kind of is. He did agree to go first, before trying to back out. If he had never agreed in the first place, it would have been a different story. And I TOLD him I wouldn't do well with this whole thing. I told him in a few different ways. He, being foolish, thought, "well, since we'd talked about it, I figured it was all okay." Dumbass. So now my stomach is bothering me, no big surprise since this weekend wasn't exactly full of rainbows and unicorns. (Why unicorns? I don't know. They seem happy. And I watched Dodgeball like three times and there's the scene in Melody's-not her real name, but her name from pre-skankhood and Hey Dude days-apartment with all the unicorns.) I kept thinking, "I should call so-and-so, I haven't talked to her in over a year" but then I would decide that I didn't really want to talk to people. And SB, who promised to text a lot, only sent one text. And there are no emails or phone calls from him on the weekend. So now I'm trying not to be vindictive and refuse to call him tonight.
If I don't call him tonight, though, there will be good reasons. To stave off my thoughts, I'm going to go to a Martha Grimes thing at the B&N near me. Ms Grimes is coming to speak and sign and, while I'm not a huge fan, I did highly enjoy the one book by her that I've read. And she's moderately famous, particularly in the mystery genre (not one I usually frequent, but whatever), and it'll get me out. Plus today's my mom's birthday, so of course I must call and chat. It's all about hte distraction, people.
See, I've decided my whole problem is that I'm too smart. I get bored and need something to think about. So I start analyzing myself. "Picking," as SB would call it, a term I usually find inaccurate unless I actually am trying to make myself cry or something. It's not good to spend hours analyzing yourself. It can make one a bit neurotic. How to avoid it, though, is something I'm still struggling with. I could write it out, yes, but that forces me to come face-to-face with everything in writing. I could read, but at such times, it can be hard to settle my brain down. I can watch tv, but I wind up not really paying attention. It's a dilemma, yes, and un cercle visceaux, one which is best stopped by avoiding it in the first place by doing something. So that is the plan. And if I happen to not have enough time to call SB, well too bad for him. That's what he gets for leaving.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Repressed dreams
I really had the best intentions of updating yesterday. Sadly for the great numbers of you who read this (and by great, I mean like 5), blogger was being a complete and utter pain and I was unable to. That and I was too lazy and tired later on to get back online at home on my stolen internet.
I had a dream a couple of nights about an old crush of mine. It was very bittersweet, a dream in which I knew that the crush and I could have had a good relationship, but I was with SB and I wasn't about to give up what I have with him. I of course told SB about it, since I tend to tell him most things, especially little things that might make him jealous. He, of course, was not thrilled about it. And to be perfectly honest, neither was I. Not because the dream "told" me anything in particular, but because I couldn't understand why this guy would keep resurfacing from my subconcious.
Bit of background info: This guy and I had a pretty decent flirtation going for several months. He, however, never actually asked me out, and I, for a number of personal and psychological reasons, refused to ask him out. Then I met SB, with whom things moved rather quickly, and that was that. Crush later started dating someone else, a girl of whom I was not fond. I always wondered why he could ask her out, but not me.
So, while thinking about my dream the other night, I had an epiphany. See, before SB, I never really dated much. I've been told that I can be intimidating to guys, which both bothers and frustrates me. I mean, really. Give me a break. Yes I am strong and intelligent and like to debate and I definitely don't wear my heart on my sleeve. But I am also funny and sweet and shy and fiercely loyal, some of which comes out after like five minutes of talking to me, and if a guy is so easily intimidated and can't see beyond that, then we probably wouldn't have a great relationship anyways. Knowing that in my head, though, doesn't mean that the lack of dates was not hard on me. As soon as I got upset or depressed or lonely, I started blaming myself, wondering why I wasn't worth the risk of rejection. SB has done his best to rid me of these types of thoughts, but they don't disappear that easily, much to his chagrin. So I think my former crush has come to represent all of those negative feelings and experiences. I don't want to be with anyone but SB, but I want other people to want to be with me.
I had a dream a couple of nights about an old crush of mine. It was very bittersweet, a dream in which I knew that the crush and I could have had a good relationship, but I was with SB and I wasn't about to give up what I have with him. I of course told SB about it, since I tend to tell him most things, especially little things that might make him jealous. He, of course, was not thrilled about it. And to be perfectly honest, neither was I. Not because the dream "told" me anything in particular, but because I couldn't understand why this guy would keep resurfacing from my subconcious.
Bit of background info: This guy and I had a pretty decent flirtation going for several months. He, however, never actually asked me out, and I, for a number of personal and psychological reasons, refused to ask him out. Then I met SB, with whom things moved rather quickly, and that was that. Crush later started dating someone else, a girl of whom I was not fond. I always wondered why he could ask her out, but not me.
So, while thinking about my dream the other night, I had an epiphany. See, before SB, I never really dated much. I've been told that I can be intimidating to guys, which both bothers and frustrates me. I mean, really. Give me a break. Yes I am strong and intelligent and like to debate and I definitely don't wear my heart on my sleeve. But I am also funny and sweet and shy and fiercely loyal, some of which comes out after like five minutes of talking to me, and if a guy is so easily intimidated and can't see beyond that, then we probably wouldn't have a great relationship anyways. Knowing that in my head, though, doesn't mean that the lack of dates was not hard on me. As soon as I got upset or depressed or lonely, I started blaming myself, wondering why I wasn't worth the risk of rejection. SB has done his best to rid me of these types of thoughts, but they don't disappear that easily, much to his chagrin. So I think my former crush has come to represent all of those negative feelings and experiences. I don't want to be with anyone but SB, but I want other people to want to be with me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)