September 30, 2009
As I’ve hinted, and as some of you know, there is a significant source of stress in my life, and I just can’t seem to get past it right now. There are so many things I could write, but they’re all negative and angsty and possessed of serious potential for getting me into trouble. What energy I have has been going towards making other improvements, things that need to be handled ASAP.
So a few things have been falling by the wayside. As I understand it, this is what my parents were talking about when they said things like “priorities in order” and “long-term planning.” Which I suppose means something beyond paying my mortgage and other bills for the next couple of months, and where I’m going to spend Thanksgiving.
Any advice is always appreciated. Even if you don’t know the specifics, give it a shot. What should I do?
September 29, 2009
There is a new adenoidally-challenged woman in town, and she’s got you both beat by a mile.
Because not only does she seem to speak so entirely through her nose as to render her mouth superfluous, but her egocentricity is intense. And by intense, I mean that I don’t think I’ve ever seen her ask someone a personal question for which the answer wouldn’t convey some personal benefit. I’ve never seen her notice, or care, that maybe not everyone can drop what they’re doing *rightthen* to help, or listen, or do whatever it is she’s decided they need to be doing.
And so, when in the middle of scoring a match, with a looming cloud of headache overhead, I did my best to look at my role in the conversation as an opportunity to experience some personal growth. Given that I managed not to say anything terribly offensive, I’d say my personal needs a longer inseam and bigger shoes.
Of course, I wonder if even thinking thoughts like this causes my personal to shrink, much like the Grinch’s heart, or Beetlejuice’s head.
September 28, 2009
This weekend, I accomplished something verging on the miraculous – I cleaned the front half of the condo. And by that, I mean I can now see the entirety of the floor that is not covered by actual furniture and one six-pack of paper towels that hasn’t found a home yet, and none of this was accomplished via my usual methodology: shoving the mess into the bedrooms.
I also did three loads of laundry – something that proved nearly as difficult a task as sorting through months of unopened mail, as every single person in my condo complex apparently needed to do laundry, too.
I know, I know. You are BESIDE yourselves with envy over the excitement that is my life. But this might give you a little insight into the mind of someone with OCD.
There isn’t much that we get to have control over. I had almost no control over my life until I left my parents’ (and I know a lot of people say, “But you’re not SUPPOSED to have control, you’re a kid” but this was beyond your average high school senior’s lack of control). And then I didn’t exercise control over a good portion of my life until later, partly because I didn’t know how and partly because it was scary.
Anyway, I’m currently in a couple of situations over which I don’t have a lot of control. Thankfully, the condition of the condo isn’t one of them – and so this weekend was a very inexpensive trip to the therapist for me.
I mean, yes – there is definitely something to be said for the smell of fabric softener and warm sheets and clean towels – but if you know someone who seems to have a bizarre affinity for doing laundry, you might look a little deeper to see if they’re upset about something.
September 25, 2009
I didn’t even know it was possible, until I’d talked to someone who had done it.
I could say that my ignorance wasn’t my fault, that there was no way I could have known that it was possible. Who’d have believed it, in this culture? And nobody had ever sat me down and told me what to look for, told me what should be important when I was deciding where I was going to spend at least a third of most days.
And it didn’t seem like things were so bad, until I talked to someone who’d made a system work for her. Granted, she had a better system to start with, but she’d done the work and found that system and shown what she could do and earned her way up…
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some hunting to do.
September 24, 2009
(gratefully, because in this economy, with a mortgage, etc. I’m glad to have a job) in a gainfully employed pit of paper and research, and I am hungry and not happy.
Also, my eggs (hard-boiled, of course) completely fill their shells. There’s no space at what I usually consider the “bottom” of the egg, and it’s creeping me out.
Isn’t there normally a little air pocket in an egg?
September 23, 2009
No, really. My brain is sluggish and stupid today – moreso than usual, and I honestly think it’s because I spent over two hours in the gym last night.
I was lucky enough to be the beneficiary of some fitness expertise, and I took advantage of it with a fairly intense leg workout. I’d had a small snack before heading off to the gym, and had a full water bottle with me. I was ready – or so I thought.
When I left the gym at nearly 11:00 pm, I knew I had to hightail it home and shower, then hop into bed. But my body was SCREAMING for food, and I was incapable of formulating a plan. Thankfully, scooping protein into a glass of milk and fork-stirring was within my capabilities, as was showering and then grabbing a bowl of healthy cereal.
Significantly less successful were my attempts to compose coherent replies to the day’s personal correspondence. Tidying up afterward wasn’t happening, either – that was going to be a job for this morning, after my hand had stubbornly hit snooze on my alarm a time or two more than usual.
Apparently, my legs have decided that if my brain is going to make them lift and stretch and hurt, they’re going to exact revenge on my brain by robbing it of whatever nutrients it uses for higher function.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
September 22, 2009
Here’s one for the masses…
At what point is it appropriate to make known the fact that one is in a monogamous relationship?
I am fairly certain that it is NOT after one has engaged in some degree of relations with someone who is NOT party to said monogamous relationship* – unless, of course, this leaves “never” as the only remaining choice**. I speak from experience on both counts, and to these people not at all.
But what if relations aren’t so much a part of the equation? What if you’re just flirtatious, with no intent for it to go farther? How long before you mention the presence of a spouse, or other long-term romantic partner, to coworkers, teammates, pen pals, or random strangers striking up conversation in a bar?
And if someone hasn’t mentioned a significant other, especially a spouse – how long can you have known them before it becomes weird that they haven’t, when you become aware that such a person exists?
*Ah, yes – the truly charming fellow I worked with that one summer, who conspired with our co-workers to keep the existence of his cohabitating girlfriend a secret until after we’d gotten to know each other a little too well, under the circumstances.
**Even classier was the ex-boyfriend who’d attempted to rekindle our romance a year or so into his relationship with his now-wife – something I found out about when I’d checked their wedding website for registry info. Fantastic.
September 21, 2009
…fairly recently, actually, I was seriously pissed off* at someone who is a relatively new friend. And while the story behind that may someday be the plot basis for a lovely telenovela**, the principle over which my hackles were raised was something akin to the following:
By the time you are in your mid-twenties, you need to at LEAST take responsibility for your actions, and make choices fully anticipating that people will hold you accountable for having made those choices. If you still haven’t learned this by the time you’re 30, you’re going to have some serious issues.
So, for example, if you choose to screw someone over, you can’t claim that someone else “made” you do it. You get to choose which people you’re going to deliberately piss off.
The flip side of that, is that you choose a lot of other things, too. You choose how you’re going to treat people, how you’re going to react to them. This weekend, I chose (after a protracted battle with my various gripes and unhappinesses) to change my mindset and behave accordingly, because I remembered that part of getting to be a grownup meant that I get to decide how I’m going to act, regardless of external factors.
As an added bonus, it paid off.
And the way I want to act, is not just in a way I won’t be ashamed of later on down the road. My new gold standard, is to behave in a way I’ll be proud of, should I happen to remember a situation five years after the fact.
*Quelle surprise, right? I’m working on a process to inject myself with Happiness Brine on a regular basis, I’ll keep you posted.
September 18, 2009
Because I have been *that* grouchy lately.
I suppose this is Karma’s way of letting me know she’s still around, despite the lack of conversation. I’d almost rather she just served me a diatribe, rather than let my own petard hoist me willy-nilly.
But the fact is, when you let noxious personages take up residence in your life for any real length of time, you kind of have to expect that they’ll leave trace evidence – like that time you accidentally used your real email address to purchase something, these slip-ups will deposit spam on your metaphorical doorstep for some time to come.
Sometimes, it’s nice to grab a jar of Nutella and a spoon, and think about what it might be like in a parallel universe, where the relationship you had, the one based almost entirely on your low self-esteem and bad judgement, never happened. And other times, you realize that this is part of the price you pay for learning every single thing the hard way, and you throw your sneakers on and hit the trail.
And then you take a shower and pick up the tweezers. Because piling a unibrow on top of the next mistake (that you’ll undoubtedly laugh about at some point after you’ve made it) would just be overkill.
September 17, 2009
I’m censoring myself now, and it’s because of you.
Not to belabor the point, but you seemingly left the door at least unlocked, if not actually open. If I wanted in, don’t you think I’d at least have tried the knob?
I realize that having a little space out here on the interwebs means that anyone can stop by and read, but …
So now we go back to full comment moderation. And self-censorship, which kind of sucks the joy out of this for me.