Saturday, April 29, 2006

Screw all that jazz!

I've come about face and decided that I'm not going to hide my blog from anyone, anymore. That was a gut reaction, an instictive response to an invasion of privacy; I've reconsidered now. Do you want to read my blog? Then welcome! Enjoy! It's in the public domain and I'm not sheltering it. When I first started this journal, I grappled a little with how much to say, how honest to be. My inner writer and inner editor were at odds until I finally decided that full disclosure was the way to go. I got shaken up again with everything that happened last week, and couldn't post freely-- I wanted to censor myself again-- what if this gets read by the wrong people? It's why I didn't write for a week; I was going through something very personal and didn't want to put it "out there". Well, screw all that! It's behind me now--I'm over it.

My period was a week late, last week. A whole week, even starting on "day 31". It was just enough time to get worried, freak out, and . . . get really exited. Enough time to start conjecturing due dates, daydream about a warm little bundle in a sling. So, getting my period really sucked. The universe's way of saying "nyah nyah nyah," I guess. It's not like we were *trying*, of course, but still...brought me crashing back to earth. It really made me realize how much I want to "start a family", which sounds too sterile to describe what I really want; something warmer, gooeyer, more complicated. It feels like an illicit desire, even though I'm 25 now, not 17 or something. Wanting kids just doesn't seem "done" by my age-group, unless in the context of "down the road someday." I think I'm gonna have to put the pressure on Don full-strength, haha, because who is ever financially 'ready'? If having babies had ever depended on male 'readiness', this species would have died right out. "Not this year, darling, we really just don't have enough mammoth jerky stored up yet, and this cave is too small, we'd have to move, and who knows what next year's hunting is going to be like..."

I'm so ready to move away from Dallas. It was supposed to be a temporary stop, just a couple of years, but it's starting to feel as though if we don't get out soon we'll settle here forever. Don is looking for a promotion this year or he'll start looking outside his company; I'm always at this website that lets you compare all these statistics about various places to live. So you can figure that where we live in North Dallas area has a cost of living of 94.1 (of the national average) while, Seattle, Washington's CoL is 145.6 with a median house cost of $459,800 (good grief); but that Seattle votes Democrat (yay!) and has a climatic "comfort index" of 72 compared to our 25. (higher is better). Repeat this for every locale that sounds interesting; North Carolina, New Mexico, Colorado, back to Vermont (I wish). I promised Don after the last time that we'd never move again without having jobs lined up in advance-- those months of unemployment were hell on the savings, not to mention the relationship. The poor guy has up and shipped across country twice now on my account, jumping in head-first. This time the ball's in his court; we won't go anywhere until he has a position there. The only hard part will be leaving my family, again.

Just a Quickie

Yeah sorry for that long silence. It's been a weird week at work, because my manager is leaving, and at home, because Don's boss is on vacation which equals tons of extra work for him. (Yes, I finally tired of calling him "D" all the time. Who cares, anyways?) I have mixed feelings about my boss taking off. On the one hand, she was a good manager and I really like her, but she's moving on to bigger and better things. I'm not scared of change in general, and it might be nice to work under someone new. Wait and see, I guess. I brought a cake for the good-bye party but it came out kinda weird. The icing ran down the sides and pooled under the cake instead of staying on top. Tasted ok though.

Poor Don is so exhausted he went to bed around 8:30 tonight. I got coffee with KK and we came back here and chilled out for awhile, which was nice. I haven't seen that much of her lately and hardly at all just for the heck of it-- usually just dog-drop-off and pick-up.

Tomorrow I will post longer when Don's at work, because it's bedtime now.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

A new day

Cheesy, huh? I felt like a cheesy title today. I feel like a cheesy dinner, too; maybe it's just in my mind or something.

Today was stressful, because I had to be phony and smile to someone; had to, because I wasn't confrontational enough to say to her, "You read my blog! Bad so-and-so! Now I don't like you so let's not be fake, ok?"--and clear the air a little. I'm bad at confrontation but worse at fakin' it. Things will probably normalize soon with some kind of conversation. I will not apologize, though, for writing insulting things here, where nobody she knows should be reading. Least of all her!

So enough with all that, I'm trying to not dwell on it anymore. It was SO SLOW at work today, maybe from the weather. When it's too busy I long for a slow period, but days like this drag on and on. When it's busy, time flies and then it's quittin' time.

My parents are finally giving KK the ultimatum: go back to school full-time or say goodbye to the free money. Talk about years too late! At least this will force some kind of decision on her, though, after years of drifting. Because they've been helping her out the whole time, she has no idea what it's like to work for a living. She doesn't fully realize that not every Starbucks employee can afford trips with friends (Austin, California, Padre, Austin...), expensive concert tickets, lots of beer and cigarettes and (most likely) other certain substances.... Waiting tables won't seem so "fun" if she has to log enough hours doing it to pay rent, utilities, food, gas. She's got until mid-May to sign up for summer school at the community college and re-apply at the university. I think it will be so good for her, either way. Either she finally finishes school and starts taking herself somewhat seriously, or she makes her own way in the world, and starts taking herself somewhat seriously. The free money hasn't done her any favors, and this has been a long time coming. It was "a semester off", four years long!

I'll still puppy-sit for her, though. That's not enabling, right? It's better for the dog. And I like seeing her so often. I think I'm taking D out for dinner tonight, if he's up for it. He's been a little down lately because I'm lending him some money to pay off a debt. He doesn't like to ask for help.

Speaking of which-- if anybody out there is paying off a student loan, KEEP ALL PROOF OF PAYMENT! Forever! In a fire-proof box! With photo-copies! Because the government can come after you 15 years after the fact and say that you never paid up and if you don't have the proof that you did, you have to pay all over again, with 15 years' worth of interest tacked on. And 20 years from now, whatever bank you wrote those checks from will have been taken over several times. Unlike most debts (real or not) that expire after I think seven years, debts to the government like student loans never will, and they can dock your pay. Even when you already have half your paycheck going to child support. So I'm lending my sweetie a little dough. It's a good investment.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Flabbergasted and Mindboggled!

Wow. Just . . .wow. I realize that I haven't been blogging very long and that I'm not very savvy about how the Blog-world really works. Of course I know empirically that anybody can read any blog they wish, that a blog is in the public domain unless it's password-protected. I just never thought that anybody I didn't want reading my blog would read it . . . Silly, huh? I thought that blog-readers fall into a few distinct categories: friends, strangers, and weirdos. Friends being those people that you intentionally introduce to the blog and the people they bring along-- the readers of their blogs, etc. Strangers being those harmless lurkers who may never comment but who skim through your blog and maybe come back if they like you. I lurk in some places. Weirdos being those stalker types you hear about, the reason that nobody includes much real information-- full name, address, birth date, that kind of thing.

Now I find that there are other kinds of blog-readers. People who know you; who would read your blog even while knowing that you never intended to share it with them; who would lurk, never commenting or announcing their presence or telling you that they happen to read your blog; who would read things never meant for their eyes. People who would intentionally, blatantly go behind your back, invade your privacy, and use what you write against you in a sphere that has no connection to the blog at all. Imagine if a sister or a cousin found your blog, turned around and complained about it to your parents. Imagine a co-worker researching your blog and turning it into something to discuss with the boss. Imagine some similar situation and you'll see where I am.

Some things I learned today:

1. I have an enemy. I find this a little baffling because I never felt important enough to have a foe. But after all this time it turns out that I'm not paranoid, they really are out to get me. Why, I'm not sure yet.

2. Blogs actually aren't a safe place to vent because anyone freaky enough to search for you will find it. Changing the address will only work for a short time; whatever it was that drove somebody to find it before will find it again. Therefore nobody shall ever be named by name again unless I love them. My fourth-category reader will Hereby be referred to as "Umbridge". (I was thinking "She who must not be named" or "you-know-who" but that made the whole thing too important. "Umbridge" fits much better.)

3. I'm totally out of my league here. I'm not good these two-faced, sneaky, gossip-y, game-playing Machiavellian maneuvers that women use against each other, of saying one thing to one party and something else to another. I generally say what I think, or I keep my mouth shut. Everybody who knows me knows where they stand, all the time. I think I'm screwed...

4. If your behavior is so immature and unprofessional that it drives somebody to rant about it in the privacy her blog (instead of anywhere else), and you read that blog without permission knowing that it's private, and what you read offends you, then maybe you should re-think that original behavior instead of being mad at somebody for stating the bald truth in an anonymous venue.

5. Blogger doesn't do password-protected blogs. I've just gone to ridiculous lengths trying to erase all contacts to the previous address and to my profile.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Potter nerds unite!

I can't believe I only scored "Acceptable" on a Harry Potter test! That means if there were a "Harry Potter" NEWT-level class, I might not even get in. This is a really hard test!

Good luck people.

One of my favorite 'Farside' cartoons shows a bunch of people picketing with signs that read
"Dyslexics of the World Untie!" . Get it? Maybe it's only funny because I'm a good bit dyslexic myself. Mom says that comes from being left-handed but she blames everything about me on that. ("You didn't sleep well? It's because you're left handed. Left-handers die earlier, you know. They don't sleep well either.") Maybe not that bad but it does come up a bit. I say, if she didn't want left-handed children she should have thought twice about marrying a left-handed guy like my father. Same goes for fidgeting.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

On this date...

My birthday: January Seventeenth

3 Events (in this century):

1945 - The Nazis begin the evacuation of the Auschwitz concentration camp as Soviet forces close in.

1975 - Bob Dylan releases Blood on the Tracks, often considered one of his best albums.

1991 - Gulf War: Operation Desert Storm began early in the morning. Iraq fires 8 Scud missiles into Israel in an unsuccessful bid to provoke Israeli retaliation.

3 Births:

1706 - Benjamin Franklin American writer, inventor, publisher, and ambassador (d. 1790)

1899 - Al Capone, American gangster (d. 1947)

1942 - Muhammad Ali, American boxer

1 Death:

1964 - T.H. White, English author (b. 1906)

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Read it and see!

D and I had AWESOME SEX last night. Just thought I'd share that, since it's not the kind of thing I would mention to anyone I know out loud and this is my journal so neh. The kind where the next day you just feel all laid back and smiling, and when people annoy you, you just think "jeez, he/she/it needs to get laid already" in a very smug kind of way. Today he spent hours cleaning the apartment when I was at work. And made dinner. (I'm not sure who this stranger is, but I think I'll keep him ;) ) That's my guy. I'll try to see him and match it tomorrow re: the apartment because I'm off of course but he has to work do to the massive anti-anti-illegal-immigration-bill march tomorrow that is going to decimate his hotel's staff for the day. Gosh knows the apartment has another day's worth of labor due at least! We're such slobs.

I'm editing my co-worker Ana's thesis paper for her. It's an interesting task; I have no idea what she's talking about but I can fix phrasing and such. I warned her that's it's for grammar and style only, I can't do content. What I really need from her right now is a general outline of the paper so that I can see where I am; she only gave me a few pages so far and I don't know which pages. I didn't have to do a thesis when I graduated, I don't know if that's because it was a different school, or because I didn't graduate with honors, or what. The stress probably would have done me in as I was already really bad off that final semester with the killer gall-bladder/ulcer/heartburn/I'm-sorry-we-can't-figure-out-what-it-is thing.

Off to see if D's up for it again. Figuratively speaking. I think.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Time for a nice Rant!

Another weird night! It's becoming epidemic! D comes home early and leaves to go to a ballgame. I come home, walk the dog. I go to bed. D come home, walks the dog, goes to bed. D gets up and leaves around four. I wake up quarter till 6 alone, wondering if I dreamed him coming home until I find his stuff in the kitchen. All very disorienting... I called him on my way to work to see when he'd gone back to work.

I'm currently ranting internally about the way our society tries to re-form every body to its own image. From cosmetic surgery to tanning booths, they want us all to be the same, tall thin blonde and dumb. We internalize this message to the point that we want to erase all of the little idiosyncrasies and personal traits that make us who we are; to shrink large noses, lipo that round tummy, laser away sexy eye bags, hold in that sarcastic edge. It's ironic because the things we hate about ourselves (because they make us stand out) are the same things that endear us to others and vice versa. I could get a boob-job, because gosh everybody knows that B-cups just don't cut it anymore in this world. But I know of at least one person who loves them the way they are. Isn't it annoying when a friend with beautiful skin, romance-novel skin (you know, creamy, smooth, etc) complains about being pale? We get brain-washed into thinking there's only one pretty kind of skin.

What if you went out and got everything fixed up just the way it should be? What if you dyed your hair blonde, fixed your nose, got the boob job and the liposuction? What if, right when everything was perfect, you met the man of your dreams, and it turned out that he didn't go for any of that stuff? that he prefers the all-natural, doesn't like spherical fake breasts, loves brunettes in glasses? Then what? What kind of people will you attract once you've bought into the barbie-doll image? Someone who wants a barbie, I guess.

The fact that all this stuff is bad for you doesn't even seem to be an issue. The carcinogenic tanning beds, dangerous operations, et al are a small price to pay for artificial beauty. Get your tits fixed and you could have major problems down the road if you ever want to nurse your babies-- not that this would stop anyone now; how long has it been since breasts have been nothing more than decoration/man bait/sex toys? Wait, you mean they had another purpose originally? How weird is that! Kinda gross, really!

That's it, I'm moving back to Vermont, where just shaving my legs makes me ultra-glam and feminine compared to the norm, where there are lots of brunettes, and where very few people seem to feel the need to digitally erase their bags of either saddle or eye variety.

Monday, April 03, 2006

What a weird, smelly day

Saturday after D got home from work (bad D!) we got lunch and window shopped got coffee went to Borders saw Ben bought the Harry Potter Goblet of Fire DVD got more coffee went home made pancakes and watched the movie. So that was all good and he was forgiven. Sunday D was giving his truck a tune-up when something bad happened with the fuel line he was working on. Don't ask me what, I'm not an automechanic. I was just working on the laptop when he stormed up the stairs cussing like a sailor and reeking of gas, trying to wash his ear out under the faucet because it's all filled with gasoline. His ear, that is. The whole apartment filled with the smell of gas and I got a killer headache and had to evacuate to my folk's for the evening. D and I have agreed that future tune-ups will be done by (liscensed) professionals. Some things are worth paying for, and he doesn't need to be lying on his side on the concrete garage floor what with his back and all. Not to mention that if anything had happened like an explosion or fire or something I'm pretty sure the apartment complex could sue us for all we're worth, not that that's very much but still I don't think we're supposed to do engine work on site.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Rambles on filthy stuff.

I feel better than I did when I posted last. For one thing, I didn't think to call Kristen (not annoying-coworker Kristin, but old UTD scientist-friend Kristen) and see what she was up to before deciding that I have no friends etc. Also, spent yesterday evening with Ashli for the first time in ages. She's doing well now; husband working, new raise at work, etc. It sounds like it was pretty hairy there for awhile but now things are looking brighter. Ashli has promised to get better at staying in touch but I'm not holding my breath. Work yesterday was really busy because it was payday for so many people; the every-other-Friday folk like D, the 15th-and-31st folk like me, and the every-Friday folk all got our monies yesterday. They don't line up like that very often, it's like an eclipse. Except that instead of being an amazing celestial phenomenon, it's just a really busy work-day. I did 250 transactions before going home. For those who aren't immersed in the bank-teller world (most everybody, I hope) that's pretty kick-ass.

D promised earlier that he wasn't working at all this weekend, that we'd have lots and lots of "couple time". Then he amended that to say that he had to go into work early on Saturday but just for a few hours. Guess where he is now, at 1:00p.m. Saturday? Well, he's not here at home. Scratch that, actually, because that might be the garage door now. It's not like I asked for this time or anything, just that he oughtn't go about making promises that he knows he can't guarantee. And all week long, I said "that's nice, sweetie, I'll believe it when I see it though" which pissed him off a little even though (or maybe because) he knew I was right.

Perhaps we can spend some time cleaning up this black hole of an apartment that we habit, do the laundry, make it livable. Right now, the place has a 'smell', that "two dogs and a cat occupy this small space and one of the dogs isn't fully house-broken yet and they both smell" smell. If I ever got a huge raise or a higher-paying job, I think that my frivolous-gift-to-self would be a housecleaning service. Just the one time. I think that if I could get half-way there and let them do the rest the apartment could be wonderful for a day or so. My parents have a lady who comes by twice a month to clean; it was the solution to many scary fights they had after my mom started working full-time again. I never understood why mom insisted on tidying-up the night before Carol was coming, it seemed like she was cleaning for the house-cleaner; now I understand. If you pay someone to spend say three hours cleaning your house, she can only get it really clean if it's already tidy. Can't clean the sink if there are still dirty dishes to be done, or vaccuum if there's stuff all over the carpet that needs to be dealt with. I can spend hours tidying the apartment and not even get to the dusting-vaccuuming-scrubbing part of it.

I once tried to calculate what Carol and her sister make (or could make) cleaning houses and it's unreal. And they get paid in cash, which could mean much lower taxes. And they use supplies and machines furnished by the households, that van seems to be the only overhead. Being in business for yourself, no matter how small the operation, is the only way to make real money, I think.

I'm off to clean the bathroom, yay.