Celebrity Gossip
I'm guilty of it myself. I watch the E! Channel during my lunch break. I've been known to check out a few celebrity blogs, and yes, I do vaguely care whether Jessica Alba is having a boy or a girl.
But this latest coverage with Britney Spears has me pretty much ready to quit it all cold turkey (if only I hadn't realized today that even the slightest bit of celebrity knowledge makes me a better librarian...argh!).
The point of the story during today's lunchtime coverage was about Miss Brit having yet another breakdown. The video footage showed paparazzi pretty much following her every step from her house to the gas station back home and out again. They asked her questions. They stalked her.
Wouldn't YOU have a breakdown, too, if people with cameras (I could hear them clicking and making quite a ruckus on the video coverage), lights and video recorders were following you around 24 hours a day? Give a girl a break.
What to do about this? Because it's not just Britney. It's magazine covers wondering why celebrity relationships don't last. Well, aside from all the normal reasons relationships sometimes end, there are the cameras and the reporters and the constant inability to even walk down the street without being photographed that might just become too much for some people.
Celebrities may use their images for more than their first job (so, actresses might become spokeswomen for Revlon, men might become the new Stetson man) and for more than work at all (see anything written about Angelina Jolie and her work as the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees Goodwill Ambassador, but they choose those activities and shouldn't have to sacrifice their privacy and their ability to live a "normal" life.
It's bad enough that some library customers recognize me and ask a question here or there at the mall or the grocery store, but I think I would simply fall apart if I couldn't have a random Target run without my picture appearing on the cover of US Weekly, "Breaking news! Sarah shops at Target in the same clothes she wore to work!"
Back to the question. What can we do? We can stop caring. I probably won't stop going to the movies or watching certain television shows or having an affinity for certain actors, but I can completely stop caring about the personal lives of celebrities.
If we each stopped buying US Weekly. If we looked away from OK! Magazine at the cash register. Things might change.
More than that. If we wrote letters asking magazines to stop paying so much money for photos of celebrities, maybe the parazzi would be just a bit less rabid, and celebs could go back to having generic stalkers, not professionals with light kits and digital SLR cameras.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
In the Valley of the Passive Agressive
Friday afternoon, through pouring rain and driving wind, WG and I made our way to Las Vegas. We arrived to a cold evening, quickly retrieved our car ($36 for the whole weekend from Dollar!) and were on our way, armed with two forms of GPS, a google map and my grandma's promise to be available by phone, should we get lost.
My grandmother lives two hours from a major airport. I have to fly to Nevada to get to Arizona. For a girl from California, this makes little sense, but we got to Grandma's house, all the same. I drove us over the Hoover Dam and through the surprisingly crowded desert.
Grandma was happy to see me. She hugged me, shook hands with WG and we got settled in.
"Well, where do you want to put your bags?"
"Wherever you like, Grandma, it's your house." I wandered towards the spare bedroom, WG in tow, awkward as he watched me try to navigate the rules of Grandma's house.
"Well...I could go get the air mattress."
"We're fine in here, Grandma."
...."Okay. Uhm. I'll go get you some more blankets."
In the Valley of the Passive Aggressive, we just go back and forth until the stronger one gets her will. In this argument, I was the stronger. It helps that I'm younger.
Throughout the course of the weekend, whenever we got near the bedroom, Grandma got awkward. Friday evening, WG had already gone in the room, and Grandma and I were saying our goodnights (WG's words, "In your family, goodbyes take like half an hour, it's oh, goodnight, oh are you okay? do you have what you need? okay, so goodnight, wait one more thing..."). We neared the guest room, "Well, oh, so, I'll let you go, 'cause I don't know if he's, uhm..."
"Okay, goodnight." but inside, "If he's what, Grandma? Stark naked in your guest bedroom, changed the lightbulbs to red and the sheets to satin, gotten out a video camera and all prepared to film a porno?"
I told a co-worker this and she said, "What exactly do they think we're doing in their house? Why do they assume the worst?"
We took pictures:
Played a game:
And off to bed we went.
Saturday dawned and began a two hour on and off discussion of what we would do.
But first...coffee.
WG, to one and all, "Do you want coffee?"
Grandma, "No."
Me, "No, I'm having juice."
"Well, I'm not going to make a pot just for myself."
Fast-forward twenty minutes, to the end of breakfast. Grandma watches WG put dishes in the sink, "You didn't make coffee?"
"No, not just for myself."
"Oh, I would have had a cup."
Me? I'm used to this. WG? Well, I think he died a little on the inside.
The plan for the day continued as we drove out to the "airport," presumably to look at planes but really for Grandma to go to the import store that was having a 50% off sale.
By this time, two o'clock had come and gone, and Grandma had it in her mind that we could go and visit Grandpa (and all the other men in the home where he lives) before lunch. Uhm. No.
"Hey, Grandma, I'm hungry."
"Oh, I'm a little hungry."
"Let's get lunch first before going to see Grandpa."
"Okay."
"So, we're going to the diner?"
"So, you don't want to go to Crackerbarrel?"
No one had mentioned Crackerbarrel, so no, we didn't want to go there. "No, Grandma, let's go to the diner."
Before we ate, we had to circle around downtown until Grandma could park and get us to take pictures at the train:
After yet another meal served by someone with bleach blonde hair, we visited Grandpa.
Grandma handed him a chocolate milkshake, and this seemed to be all that he could focus on. He stared blankly into space and sucked on his little red straw. When Grandma wanted his attention, she simply ran the fingers of her right hand along the back of his neck, and my heart lept.
I recognized the gesture as one of my own, and in addition to seeing my grandmother still trying to give a loving touch to the man she has loved for nearly 60 years, I saw my own lifetime.
My grandmother has known her husband in a way no other human being can, and she still loves him, still wants him to turn his pale blue eyes to her own and see love.
After this heart-wrenching experience, and the added bonus of watching a series of differently impaired men wander around asking for candy, vaguely threatening to shoot large quantities of people or insisting that we call them, "Wild Bill," we went to search for my aunt who was supposed to be at the bowling alley but wasn't.
Eventually, we located her at her house, and the passive aggression began anew.
My Aunt, "Sarah! The antique shop doesn't close for another hour, do you want to go over there?"
Grandma, "WG and I could go get the groceries we need for dinner and you and Sarah can go to the antique store."
My Aunt, "Mom! It's just one store. And then we'll go to the grocery store."
Just one store turned into taking the longer, scenic route through a canyon (My aunt, "I figure if people come from out of town, they want to see the local scenery) the store, a tour of downtown and a stop at the local coffee shop. I ordered a Thai iced tea and was asked if I actually knew what I was getting, because, said the owner, most people are surprised and somewhat disappointed that it's creamy and sweet.
As we (finally) trecked through the grocery store looking for ingredients to make risotto in the middle of nowhere, my aunt and grandma continued to ask WG, as they had all day, if he minded cooking. As throughout the day, he said he didn't mind either way, but if he was going to cook, he needed to get started.
A trip to Wal-Mart was required, or, as WG said, "We could go over to the house of satan and get the rest of what I need," in the most sarcastic voice possible.
Groceries in hand, we returned to my aunt's house to retrieve Grandma's car. And then we installed a computer program for my aunt, looked at a buttload of pictures, learned that my great-grandmother was illegitimate and that her uncle fought on the Confederate side in the Civil War.
Finally, my uncle came in the room, "Does anyone mind if I just order pizza?"
"No, that's fine."
And for the rest of the evening my aunt and grandma pestered WG, asking him if he minded not cooking.
Anyway, we bunkered down with pizza, uncomfortable furniture and a cat to watch the Mummy and the Mummy II. My uncle said he was going to take a shower and never came back. My cousin insisted she would stay up to watch both movies and then suddenly disappeared and never returned.
Finally, around midnight, we returned to Grandma's house. Where we proceeded to drink a class of wine and watch America's Next Top Model until two in the morning. Quite frankly, that was my favorite part of the trip.
Sunday morning, we were on the road again, brushing aside offers of breakfast and sandwiches, hurrying out the door to get to the Hoover Dam and the airport, discussing the Valley of the Passive Aggressive all along the way.
We squeezed in time for a casino.
Then we waited. And the flight got cancelled. And we waited for news. And got rebooked on a midnight flight. And booked for "standby" on a 7 p.m. flight. That we got on. That left at 8:30. And went to a different airport than we really wanted.
And then we got home. And we slept. And we were happy to have visited and happy to have left.
My grandmother lives two hours from a major airport. I have to fly to Nevada to get to Arizona. For a girl from California, this makes little sense, but we got to Grandma's house, all the same. I drove us over the Hoover Dam and through the surprisingly crowded desert.
Grandma was happy to see me. She hugged me, shook hands with WG and we got settled in.
"Well, where do you want to put your bags?"
"Wherever you like, Grandma, it's your house." I wandered towards the spare bedroom, WG in tow, awkward as he watched me try to navigate the rules of Grandma's house.
"Well...I could go get the air mattress."
"We're fine in here, Grandma."
...."Okay. Uhm. I'll go get you some more blankets."
In the Valley of the Passive Aggressive, we just go back and forth until the stronger one gets her will. In this argument, I was the stronger. It helps that I'm younger.
Throughout the course of the weekend, whenever we got near the bedroom, Grandma got awkward. Friday evening, WG had already gone in the room, and Grandma and I were saying our goodnights (WG's words, "In your family, goodbyes take like half an hour, it's oh, goodnight, oh are you okay? do you have what you need? okay, so goodnight, wait one more thing..."). We neared the guest room, "Well, oh, so, I'll let you go, 'cause I don't know if he's, uhm..."
"Okay, goodnight." but inside, "If he's what, Grandma? Stark naked in your guest bedroom, changed the lightbulbs to red and the sheets to satin, gotten out a video camera and all prepared to film a porno?"
I told a co-worker this and she said, "What exactly do they think we're doing in their house? Why do they assume the worst?"
We took pictures:
Played a game:
And off to bed we went.
Saturday dawned and began a two hour on and off discussion of what we would do.
But first...coffee.
WG, to one and all, "Do you want coffee?"
Grandma, "No."
Me, "No, I'm having juice."
"Well, I'm not going to make a pot just for myself."
Fast-forward twenty minutes, to the end of breakfast. Grandma watches WG put dishes in the sink, "You didn't make coffee?"
"No, not just for myself."
"Oh, I would have had a cup."
Me? I'm used to this. WG? Well, I think he died a little on the inside.
The plan for the day continued as we drove out to the "airport," presumably to look at planes but really for Grandma to go to the import store that was having a 50% off sale.
By this time, two o'clock had come and gone, and Grandma had it in her mind that we could go and visit Grandpa (and all the other men in the home where he lives) before lunch. Uhm. No.
"Hey, Grandma, I'm hungry."
"Oh, I'm a little hungry."
"Let's get lunch first before going to see Grandpa."
"Okay."
"So, we're going to the diner?"
"So, you don't want to go to Crackerbarrel?"
No one had mentioned Crackerbarrel, so no, we didn't want to go there. "No, Grandma, let's go to the diner."
Before we ate, we had to circle around downtown until Grandma could park and get us to take pictures at the train:
After yet another meal served by someone with bleach blonde hair, we visited Grandpa.
Grandma handed him a chocolate milkshake, and this seemed to be all that he could focus on. He stared blankly into space and sucked on his little red straw. When Grandma wanted his attention, she simply ran the fingers of her right hand along the back of his neck, and my heart lept.
I recognized the gesture as one of my own, and in addition to seeing my grandmother still trying to give a loving touch to the man she has loved for nearly 60 years, I saw my own lifetime.
My grandmother has known her husband in a way no other human being can, and she still loves him, still wants him to turn his pale blue eyes to her own and see love.
After this heart-wrenching experience, and the added bonus of watching a series of differently impaired men wander around asking for candy, vaguely threatening to shoot large quantities of people or insisting that we call them, "Wild Bill," we went to search for my aunt who was supposed to be at the bowling alley but wasn't.
Eventually, we located her at her house, and the passive aggression began anew.
My Aunt, "Sarah! The antique shop doesn't close for another hour, do you want to go over there?"
Grandma, "WG and I could go get the groceries we need for dinner and you and Sarah can go to the antique store."
My Aunt, "Mom! It's just one store. And then we'll go to the grocery store."
Just one store turned into taking the longer, scenic route through a canyon (My aunt, "I figure if people come from out of town, they want to see the local scenery) the store, a tour of downtown and a stop at the local coffee shop. I ordered a Thai iced tea and was asked if I actually knew what I was getting, because, said the owner, most people are surprised and somewhat disappointed that it's creamy and sweet.
As we (finally) trecked through the grocery store looking for ingredients to make risotto in the middle of nowhere, my aunt and grandma continued to ask WG, as they had all day, if he minded cooking. As throughout the day, he said he didn't mind either way, but if he was going to cook, he needed to get started.
A trip to Wal-Mart was required, or, as WG said, "We could go over to the house of satan and get the rest of what I need," in the most sarcastic voice possible.
Groceries in hand, we returned to my aunt's house to retrieve Grandma's car. And then we installed a computer program for my aunt, looked at a buttload of pictures, learned that my great-grandmother was illegitimate and that her uncle fought on the Confederate side in the Civil War.
Finally, my uncle came in the room, "Does anyone mind if I just order pizza?"
"No, that's fine."
And for the rest of the evening my aunt and grandma pestered WG, asking him if he minded not cooking.
Anyway, we bunkered down with pizza, uncomfortable furniture and a cat to watch the Mummy and the Mummy II. My uncle said he was going to take a shower and never came back. My cousin insisted she would stay up to watch both movies and then suddenly disappeared and never returned.
Finally, around midnight, we returned to Grandma's house. Where we proceeded to drink a class of wine and watch America's Next Top Model until two in the morning. Quite frankly, that was my favorite part of the trip.
Sunday morning, we were on the road again, brushing aside offers of breakfast and sandwiches, hurrying out the door to get to the Hoover Dam and the airport, discussing the Valley of the Passive Aggressive all along the way.
We squeezed in time for a casino.
Then we waited. And the flight got cancelled. And we waited for news. And got rebooked on a midnight flight. And booked for "standby" on a 7 p.m. flight. That we got on. That left at 8:30. And went to a different airport than we really wanted.
And then we got home. And we slept. And we were happy to have visited and happy to have left.
Friday, January 25, 2008
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Thursday, January 24, 2008
You'll Have to Forgive Me, I'm Filled Up With Me at the Moment
During my flurry of reading on "multi-tasking" a few weeks ago, one thing, in particular stood out. Those who multi-task and who are packed to the gills with stuff to do tend to sort of pop like a party balloon when something unexpected happens.
It sort of goes like this.
"What, no, I can't. No, uhm. Uh-uh. No, I can't handle that right now. Oh crap. What? Oh. No. But I have to. How am I going to get it all doooooonnnnnneeeeee?"
All of that accompanied by a rapidly beating heart and the inability to speak in complete, or coherent, sentences.
Clearly, I have some experience with popping like a party balloon when something unexpected happens.
I've been working hard at prioritizing my activities (that's probably the most boring sentence ever blogged), but this week, well, everything my list actually has to get done. I can't go to Arizona to see my grandma without packing my suitcase. I can't pack my suitcase without doing my laundry. I can't do my laundry until I get home at 10 p.m. because of the dinner with a friend and the photography class that's starting, and I'm not trying to brag about how much I'm doing, I'm just trying to catch my breath.
Phew.
So, currently, you'll have to forgive me. I'm full of myself right now. Let me rephrase. I'm filled up with me-stuff, and I just don't have room for you today.
And that makes me sad.
It sort of goes like this.
"What, no, I can't. No, uhm. Uh-uh. No, I can't handle that right now. Oh crap. What? Oh. No. But I have to. How am I going to get it all doooooonnnnnneeeeee?"
All of that accompanied by a rapidly beating heart and the inability to speak in complete, or coherent, sentences.
Clearly, I have some experience with popping like a party balloon when something unexpected happens.
I've been working hard at prioritizing my activities (that's probably the most boring sentence ever blogged), but this week, well, everything my list actually has to get done. I can't go to Arizona to see my grandma without packing my suitcase. I can't pack my suitcase without doing my laundry. I can't do my laundry until I get home at 10 p.m. because of the dinner with a friend and the photography class that's starting, and I'm not trying to brag about how much I'm doing, I'm just trying to catch my breath.
Phew.
So, currently, you'll have to forgive me. I'm full of myself right now. Let me rephrase. I'm filled up with me-stuff, and I just don't have room for you today.
And that makes me sad.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Real World Wednesday
Is it Wednesday already? How did that even happen?
Other than being caught up in the Heath Ledger news coverage, I am mildly aware that there is more going on in the world.
I know that the Republicans are in chaos, that Hillary and Obama are running around insulting each other and that library customers are angry that they can't register for the primary anymore (like it's my fault your voter registration had to be postmarked by 5 p.m. yesterday, Mrs. You're 45, why haven't you registered to vote yet?).
I now that the football world is all in flurry about Tom Brady maybe faking an injury.
I was thrilled to learn that Juno got nominated for four Oscars (and I seriously wanted to write my RWW post about Hollywood and it's happy turn towards indie films).
And I now know that a five-legged cat must have surgery first before she can be adopted.
So, yeah, I'm glad I've made an effort to keep updated on the news!
There is something to talk about, fear not my loyal reader(s).
The recession.
Oh yeah, the economy might be tanking. Did you know that?
Just as I decide to hop out into the world and see what jobs might be around, everything just...starts to slide. I'm glad I didn't do anything silly like quit my current job!
What does a recession mean? I recession means even more folks pouring into the library to figure out how to create a resume.
A recession means a possible hiring freeze at both the state and locallevels.
A recession means homeowners hoping just to break even on their home if they move in the next five years.
A recession means an odd presidential race as people try as hard as possible to hang on to their money.
I'm not going to get into the politics of a recession, though I am sorely tempted to talk about the fact that hiring freezes just shouldn't happen if things are handled right.
According to reports, though, part of this recession can be blamed on consumer spending. So, while retail stores were cheering, banks were running scared (I had a source for that, but seeing as how it's from an online news source, I can't retrace my steps, and all I can find now is how Britney Spears missed another court date).
In any case, I read that consumer spending was up at leas 4 times the average over the past 16 quarters. Apparently, like our government, we Americans have just spent, spent, spent, over the last four years.
But there's so much to buy. There are iPods and cell phones and Starbucks and Wii! How canI Americans not shop? Why isn't spending money good for the economy?
Ah, right, I get it. It's not my fault, it's those darn people who get credit cards, max them out and then don't pay them back.
So, who do we blame?
The Credit Card Companies. The evil of our nation.
That seems like a satisfactory answer.
So, the recession's coming, and it's all because of a little thing called "credit."
In other news, remember my famous post about fossil fuel? Well, Michael Pollen has a new book out! Go! Read In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto. Me? I'm waiting to get it from the library. Don't want to be tempted into using my credit card, after all.
Other than being caught up in the Heath Ledger news coverage, I am mildly aware that there is more going on in the world.
I know that the Republicans are in chaos, that Hillary and Obama are running around insulting each other and that library customers are angry that they can't register for the primary anymore (like it's my fault your voter registration had to be postmarked by 5 p.m. yesterday, Mrs. You're 45, why haven't you registered to vote yet?).
I now that the football world is all in flurry about Tom Brady maybe faking an injury.
I was thrilled to learn that Juno got nominated for four Oscars (and I seriously wanted to write my RWW post about Hollywood and it's happy turn towards indie films).
And I now know that a five-legged cat must have surgery first before she can be adopted.
So, yeah, I'm glad I've made an effort to keep updated on the news!
There is something to talk about, fear not my loyal reader(s).
The recession.
Oh yeah, the economy might be tanking. Did you know that?
Just as I decide to hop out into the world and see what jobs might be around, everything just...starts to slide. I'm glad I didn't do anything silly like quit my current job!
What does a recession mean? I recession means even more folks pouring into the library to figure out how to create a resume.
A recession means a possible hiring freeze at both the state and locallevels.
A recession means homeowners hoping just to break even on their home if they move in the next five years.
A recession means an odd presidential race as people try as hard as possible to hang on to their money.
I'm not going to get into the politics of a recession, though I am sorely tempted to talk about the fact that hiring freezes just shouldn't happen if things are handled right.
According to reports, though, part of this recession can be blamed on consumer spending. So, while retail stores were cheering, banks were running scared (I had a source for that, but seeing as how it's from an online news source, I can't retrace my steps, and all I can find now is how Britney Spears missed another court date).
In any case, I read that consumer spending was up at leas 4 times the average over the past 16 quarters. Apparently, like our government, we Americans have just spent, spent, spent, over the last four years.
But there's so much to buy. There are iPods and cell phones and Starbucks and Wii! How can
Ah, right, I get it. It's not my fault, it's those darn people who get credit cards, max them out and then don't pay them back.
So, who do we blame?
The Credit Card Companies. The evil of our nation.
That seems like a satisfactory answer.
So, the recession's coming, and it's all because of a little thing called "credit."
In other news, remember my famous post about fossil fuel? Well, Michael Pollen has a new book out! Go! Read In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto. Me? I'm waiting to get it from the library. Don't want to be tempted into using my credit card, after all.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The James Dean of Our Generation
Standing in the workroom, just about to launch into the pile of tasks on my desk, I overheard the phrase, "He was 28." Heath Ledger has died.
This hits me right in the gut. I've seen most of the films he's been in, and he's one of the lucky ones from my teen years to have successfully transitioned from Teenie Bopper Goodness to movies that inspire me to put a poster on my wall all the way to Indie Quirkiness.
Not everyone knows who he is, but I've seen just about everything he's done and have had a pleasant crush on him since 1999. He was soft-spoken and had one of those half-smiles that could kill from across the room (or across the movie screen).
He was the first celebrity crush I had that made sense. He was good looking (but not too good looking) and had cache as a credible actor. He was a celebrity crush I could carry through the years.
And now, at the age of 28, Heath Ledger, perhaps the James Dean of our Generation (seen too little, gone too soon), has passed away.
Heath, wherever you are, and as cheesy as this may sound, I mourn your passing and hope that you have gone to a better place.
This hits me right in the gut. I've seen most of the films he's been in, and he's one of the lucky ones from my teen years to have successfully transitioned from Teenie Bopper Goodness to movies that inspire me to put a poster on my wall all the way to Indie Quirkiness.
Not everyone knows who he is, but I've seen just about everything he's done and have had a pleasant crush on him since 1999. He was soft-spoken and had one of those half-smiles that could kill from across the room (or across the movie screen).
He was the first celebrity crush I had that made sense. He was good looking (but not too good looking) and had cache as a credible actor. He was a celebrity crush I could carry through the years.
And now, at the age of 28, Heath Ledger, perhaps the James Dean of our Generation (seen too little, gone too soon), has passed away.
Heath, wherever you are, and as cheesy as this may sound, I mourn your passing and hope that you have gone to a better place.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Real World Wednesday/Thursday
That post about me being off-kilter, yeah, well that spiraled into a fever and my first sick day in a year and a half. So, Real World Wednesday is late but here just the same.
Gratitude
As happens from time to time, I'm stealing RWW to make a point about my own life that I hope will inspire/encourage others.
After reading the comments on the last few posts in which I've talked about my job, I realize that I may be giving the wrong impression. You're only getting the bad side of things, and even the bad is colored by my general sense of displeasure with my chosen profession. Reading the comments encouraging me to get out of my awful situation as, in stead, encouraged me to think about the good things.
Don't get me wrong. I am still on a slow and careful search for another position, but I must recognize the good in my life, as well.
Think for a moment. What are you grateful for? Have you told anyone lately? Or have you, like me, been swallowed up in your own complaining, forgetting for a time that there is good in your life?
I've complained about my job since about the second week, which is rather pathetic, and which means that I am to blame. I made the wrong choice. I can't blame my bosses for not suiting my tastes. I can't blame the moody customers (well, maybe I can).
So, I'm pausing. I'm taking a moment to breathe in and simply feel grateful.
I am grateful for the fact that I survived my own birth (and that was no easy task)
I am grateful for my education
I am grateful for parents who love me and show it
I am grateful for friends who make me be true to myself and call me out during my hypocritical moments
I am grateful for a man who loves me for myself and whom I love more and more with each passing day
I am grateful for faith
I am grateful for a steady job with benefits and the opportunity to help people each and every day
I am grateful to have choices and opportunities
Look around. What are you grateful for? What do you have in your life, in spite of not having something you might think you should have?
Gratitude
As happens from time to time, I'm stealing RWW to make a point about my own life that I hope will inspire/encourage others.
After reading the comments on the last few posts in which I've talked about my job, I realize that I may be giving the wrong impression. You're only getting the bad side of things, and even the bad is colored by my general sense of displeasure with my chosen profession. Reading the comments encouraging me to get out of my awful situation as, in stead, encouraged me to think about the good things.
Don't get me wrong. I am still on a slow and careful search for another position, but I must recognize the good in my life, as well.
Think for a moment. What are you grateful for? Have you told anyone lately? Or have you, like me, been swallowed up in your own complaining, forgetting for a time that there is good in your life?
I've complained about my job since about the second week, which is rather pathetic, and which means that I am to blame. I made the wrong choice. I can't blame my bosses for not suiting my tastes. I can't blame the moody customers (well, maybe I can).
So, I'm pausing. I'm taking a moment to breathe in and simply feel grateful.
Look around. What are you grateful for? What do you have in your life, in spite of not having something you might think you should have?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Off Kilter
"What's wrong with you?," WG asked me as I sat quietly on the couch, waiting for our movie to start, just about to begin eating dinner.
"Nothing."
"How bad was work exactly?"
"It wasn't good, but it wasn't the worst day I've ever had. Why?"
"I'm just trying to figure out if I need to know what's wrong with you."
"There's nothing wrong with me."
twenty minutes later.
"I don't think my boss likes me. Maybe that's what's bothering me."
I didn't have a particularly good day at work yesterday. Customers were either cranky or just plain weird. I had a twenty minute conversation with someone that should have taken only five minutes. I left work feeling drained and emotionally spent.
I woke up at 4:30 this morning with a sore throat.
Either I was getting sick already, or the bad day yesterday has brought on a cold. I'm fighting it with airbourne and am planning on one of those vitamin c overloads known as the Jamba Juice Cold Buster. But overall, I'm just...off kilter.
I am a sensitive human being. If I'm having some kind of issue at home, I can't concentrate at work. If my work life is troubling me, well then home isn't completely peaceful, either.
Now, if I'm sick, the whole world comes tumbling down. I act weird with my boyfriend. I mope with my mom. I stare with a glazed expression at my boss when she makes a corny joke. I answer e-mails using odd phrases, hit send, and then immediately regret sounding like an idiot.
What I need is to crawl in bed and let this work its course through my system. Instead, I'm hoping the customers will behave and that I can get by with being passibly sociable to my co-workers until 6 p.m.
At which point I will go buy myself some healthy groceries and then go home and throw myself into bed.
Eight hours to go.
"Nothing."
"How bad was work exactly?"
"It wasn't good, but it wasn't the worst day I've ever had. Why?"
"I'm just trying to figure out if I need to know what's wrong with you."
"There's nothing wrong with me."
twenty minutes later.
"I don't think my boss likes me. Maybe that's what's bothering me."
I didn't have a particularly good day at work yesterday. Customers were either cranky or just plain weird. I had a twenty minute conversation with someone that should have taken only five minutes. I left work feeling drained and emotionally spent.
I woke up at 4:30 this morning with a sore throat.
Either I was getting sick already, or the bad day yesterday has brought on a cold. I'm fighting it with airbourne and am planning on one of those vitamin c overloads known as the Jamba Juice Cold Buster. But overall, I'm just...off kilter.
I am a sensitive human being. If I'm having some kind of issue at home, I can't concentrate at work. If my work life is troubling me, well then home isn't completely peaceful, either.
Now, if I'm sick, the whole world comes tumbling down. I act weird with my boyfriend. I mope with my mom. I stare with a glazed expression at my boss when she makes a corny joke. I answer e-mails using odd phrases, hit send, and then immediately regret sounding like an idiot.
What I need is to crawl in bed and let this work its course through my system. Instead, I'm hoping the customers will behave and that I can get by with being passibly sociable to my co-workers until 6 p.m.
At which point I will go buy myself some healthy groceries and then go home and throw myself into bed.
Eight hours to go.
Monday, January 14, 2008
An Open Letter to Myself in the Future
Dear Sarah,
It's 2008, and all is fairly well. You've gotten a bit more control of your life, are taking it slow with the job search and are not hyper-planning your life (well, you've been trying not to do that).
Here are some things you're learning at 27 that I hope you remember over the next few years:
1) It is not necessary to be stressed in order to be successful.
2) You can say "no" when you don't want to do something.
3) A weekend afternoon spent on the computer is not wasted; it is relaxing.
4) Your mother understands more than you realize she does about growing up, having a relationship and moving forward with your life.
5) Doing one thing at a time makes life much more enjoyable.
6) There is a job, somewhere, that does not involve people yelling at you. I hope that you have found that job by now. It is forgivable that you felt the need to leave what you once thought was your dream job (it is forgivable because you were an innocent and completely clueless about what your job would actually involve).
7) WG loves you immensely.
Sarah, I hope and pray that in the next few years, you have become even more comfortable with a peaceful existence, and, if you have, that you no longer crave anxiety.
I hope you have a few more recipes under your belt.
If you are reading this after you've had children, I firmly believe that you are loving them the best you can while remembering that your relationship with your husband should still be number one. There are those who may disagree about this, and this doesn't mean that you won't love and nurture your children, but don't lose your relationship in the pandemonium of child rearing. Or better yet, don't let your childrearing descend into the chaos currently de rigeur in California (soccer! ballet! theatah!).
I hope you have settled in a place outside of the Golden State.
I hope you are happy and appreciate that happiness as much as I've come to appreciate my current happiness.
Now, go, stop reading, go spend time with someone you love.
Love,
Sarah circa January 14, 2008
It's 2008, and all is fairly well. You've gotten a bit more control of your life, are taking it slow with the job search and are not hyper-planning your life (well, you've been trying not to do that).
Here are some things you're learning at 27 that I hope you remember over the next few years:
1) It is not necessary to be stressed in order to be successful.
2) You can say "no" when you don't want to do something.
3) A weekend afternoon spent on the computer is not wasted; it is relaxing.
4) Your mother understands more than you realize she does about growing up, having a relationship and moving forward with your life.
5) Doing one thing at a time makes life much more enjoyable.
6) There is a job, somewhere, that does not involve people yelling at you. I hope that you have found that job by now. It is forgivable that you felt the need to leave what you once thought was your dream job (it is forgivable because you were an innocent and completely clueless about what your job would actually involve).
7) WG loves you immensely.
Sarah, I hope and pray that in the next few years, you have become even more comfortable with a peaceful existence, and, if you have, that you no longer crave anxiety.
I hope you have a few more recipes under your belt.
If you are reading this after you've had children, I firmly believe that you are loving them the best you can while remembering that your relationship with your husband should still be number one. There are those who may disagree about this, and this doesn't mean that you won't love and nurture your children, but don't lose your relationship in the pandemonium of child rearing. Or better yet, don't let your childrearing descend into the chaos currently de rigeur in California (soccer! ballet! theatah!).
I hope you have settled in a place outside of the Golden State.
I hope you are happy and appreciate that happiness as much as I've come to appreciate my current happiness.
Now, go, stop reading, go spend time with someone you love.
Love,
Sarah circa January 14, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
Falling Asleep But with a Radio in my Head
Seeing as how I'm nearly falling off my chair with exhaustion (this is what happens when a geeky girl stays up until 1 in the morning trying to get to level 20 on WOW...this geeky girl was successful, thank you very much), I think that all I can muster the strength for today is Friday Song Lyrics.
And you know what, it's about darn time.
So, here you go, the songs that, for a myriad of reasons, are currently circulating in my addled brain.
1) Cyclone by Baby Bash (this is just about one of the more offensive songs I've heard, yet everytime it comes on the radio, my hips start shaking and, white girl that I am, I think that I need to add it to my workout mix)
Now look at that peppa'
On the back of that bumpa'
She aint even playin
When she's shakin that ruppa'
And oh, you aint know?
She gets lower than a muffla'
Even with her girlfriends
Show stopping with a hustla'
The way she move her body
She might see the Maserati
She wanna put it on me
Tryna show me her tsunami
She make it hard to copy
Always tight, never sloppy
And got an entourage
And her own paparazzi
2) Beautiful Girls by Sean Kingston (when exhausted, clearly only hip hop will do)
See it started at the park
Used to chill after dark
Oh when you took my heart
That's when we fell apart
Cause we both thought
That love lasts forever (last forever)
They say we're too young
To get ourselves sprung
Oh we didn't care
We made it very clear
And they also said
That we couldn't last together (last together)
3) Umbrella by Rihanna (the Jay-Z re-mix) There is no easy reason why I love this song. I like that she says "Um-ber-ella," but other than that...eh...lack of sleep makes me wanna dance, you, 'cause that's how I roll.
No clouds in my storms
Let it rain
I hydroplane into fame (Eh eh)
Come'n down with the Dow Jones
When the clouds come we gone
We Rocafella (Eh eh)
She fly higher than weather
And she rocks it better
You know me
An anticipation for precipitation
stacks chips for the rainy day (Eh eh)
Jay, rain man is back with lil Ms. Sunshine
Rihanna where you at?
You had my heart
and we'll never be world apart
Maybe in magazines
but you'll still be my star
Baby cause in the Dark
You can see shiny Cars
And that's when you need me there
With you I'll always share
Because
When the sun shines
We’ll shine together
Told you I'll be here forever
Said I'll always be your friend
Took an oath
I'mma stick it out 'till the end
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we still have each other
You can stand under my Umbrella
You can stand under my Umbrella
(Ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(ella ella eh eh eh eh eh eh)
4) No One by Alicia Keys Just about the only hip hop song I can get WG to listen to, and a perfect suggestion for his Christmas mix cd (thanks Irenie!).
I just want you close
Where you can stay forever
You can be sure
That it will only get better
You and me together
Through the days and nights
I don't worry cause
Everything gonna be alright
People keep talking
They can say what they like
But all I know is everything's gonna be alright
No one no one no one
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one no one no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you
You you
Can get in the way of what I feel for you
When the rain is pouring down
And my heart is hurting
You will always be around
This I know for certain
You and me together
Through the days and nights
5) Anyone Else But You by the Moldy Peaches (as performed by Michael Cera and Ellen Page) - Because I am currently OBSESSED with that soundtrack, when not shaking my ruppa to Cyclone and other songs that have no place in my musical repertoire.
You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on you're back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train
I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me
So why can't, you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I will find my nitch in your car
With my mp3 DVD rumple-packed guitar
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu du
Up up down down left right left right B A start
Just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
You are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
We both have shiny happy fits of rage
You want more fans, I want more stage
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Don Quixote was a steel driving man
My name is Adam I'm your biggest fan
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Squinched up your face and did a dance
You shook a little turd out of the bottom of your pants
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu du
But you
And you know what, it's about darn time.
So, here you go, the songs that, for a myriad of reasons, are currently circulating in my addled brain.
1) Cyclone by Baby Bash (this is just about one of the more offensive songs I've heard, yet everytime it comes on the radio, my hips start shaking and, white girl that I am, I think that I need to add it to my workout mix)
Now look at that peppa'
On the back of that bumpa'
She aint even playin
When she's shakin that ruppa'
And oh, you aint know?
She gets lower than a muffla'
Even with her girlfriends
Show stopping with a hustla'
The way she move her body
She might see the Maserati
She wanna put it on me
Tryna show me her tsunami
She make it hard to copy
Always tight, never sloppy
And got an entourage
And her own paparazzi
2) Beautiful Girls by Sean Kingston (when exhausted, clearly only hip hop will do)
See it started at the park
Used to chill after dark
Oh when you took my heart
That's when we fell apart
Cause we both thought
That love lasts forever (last forever)
They say we're too young
To get ourselves sprung
Oh we didn't care
We made it very clear
And they also said
That we couldn't last together (last together)
3) Umbrella by Rihanna (the Jay-Z re-mix) There is no easy reason why I love this song. I like that she says "Um-ber-ella," but other than that...eh...lack of sleep makes me wanna dance, you, 'cause that's how I roll.
No clouds in my storms
Let it rain
I hydroplane into fame (Eh eh)
Come'n down with the Dow Jones
When the clouds come we gone
We Rocafella (Eh eh)
She fly higher than weather
And she rocks it better
You know me
An anticipation for precipitation
stacks chips for the rainy day (Eh eh)
Jay, rain man is back with lil Ms. Sunshine
Rihanna where you at?
You had my heart
and we'll never be world apart
Maybe in magazines
but you'll still be my star
Baby cause in the Dark
You can see shiny Cars
And that's when you need me there
With you I'll always share
Because
When the sun shines
We’ll shine together
Told you I'll be here forever
Said I'll always be your friend
Took an oath
I'mma stick it out 'till the end
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we still have each other
You can stand under my Umbrella
You can stand under my Umbrella
(Ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(ella ella eh eh eh eh eh eh)
4) No One by Alicia Keys Just about the only hip hop song I can get WG to listen to, and a perfect suggestion for his Christmas mix cd (thanks Irenie!).
I just want you close
Where you can stay forever
You can be sure
That it will only get better
You and me together
Through the days and nights
I don't worry cause
Everything gonna be alright
People keep talking
They can say what they like
But all I know is everything's gonna be alright
No one no one no one
Can get in the way of what I'm feeling
No one no one no one
Can get in the way of what I feel for you
You you
Can get in the way of what I feel for you
When the rain is pouring down
And my heart is hurting
You will always be around
This I know for certain
You and me together
Through the days and nights
5) Anyone Else But You by the Moldy Peaches (as performed by Michael Cera and Ellen Page) - Because I am currently OBSESSED with that soundtrack, when not shaking my ruppa to Cyclone and other songs that have no place in my musical repertoire.
You're a part time lover and a full time friend
The monkey on you're back is the latest trend
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of a train
I kiss you all starry eyed, my body's swinging from side to side
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Here is the church and here is the steeple
We sure are cute for two ugly people
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me
So why can't, you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
I will find my nitch in your car
With my mp3 DVD rumple-packed guitar
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu du
Up up down down left right left right B A start
Just because we use cheats doesn't mean we're not smart
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
You are always trying to keep it real
I'm in love with how you feel
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
We both have shiny happy fits of rage
You want more fans, I want more stage
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Don Quixote was a steel driving man
My name is Adam I'm your biggest fan
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Squinched up your face and did a dance
You shook a little turd out of the bottom of your pants
I don't see what anyone can see, in anyone else
But you
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu
Du du du du du du dudu du
But you
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Real World Wednesday
Work rant deleted after the sage advice of a wise and reasonable friend...and after a re-read with a clearer head than when I wrote it!
Onto the subject at hand.
Real World Wednesday
I am not quite sure where to start this week. The primaries? Nah, others are covering this, well, better than I can. I'll wait till I actually vote and see if my opinion changes.
Oh, Britney. How much do I want to type out my opinions on the Britney Spears situation? I'll save those for a conversation with a co-worker who I've recently discovered is far more obsessed with celebrity gossip than I will ever and offers rather clever commentary.
I could say oh so much about Glowing Pigs.
Instead, I will stick with the tried and true, the steadiest of all conversation topics. The weather.
Out here in California, we call it weather when the temperature drops below 50 and we are faced with 80-150 mph winds. Yep, that seems like weather to me. It rained most of this past weekend. Over 1.2 million people lost power at some point, and there was debris all over the roadways.
I had candles at home and a few snacks to get me through the night, if need be, but I certainly am not prepared for a major emergency (I keep hoping I'll move to a place with more storage soon enough to stock up).
The American Red Cross has an excellent list of items to include in a kit (I sense people running out to Target as I type...).
The feds have put together another handy-dandy list.
Say what you may about FEMA, but they offer a nice resource for thinking about how to prepare yourself (and your family, friends, pets, neighbors, that cute guy across the hall, etc.) for an emergency.
Finally, something that these lists may not touch on is phone numbers. Granted, phones might go out, but in the event that it's merely power you've list, keep phone numbers handy (I'm now seeing myself writing down all the numbers and posting them with a magnet to my fridge). When the power was out, I realized, after several frustrating round-about phone calls to PG&E that I couldn't get any information since I pay my electric pill through my property management company. I'm in the process of getting the correct emergency contact number now.
If you're prepared already, how about making an effort to help others in your life or your community get prepapred. Put together a few kits and donate them to your local homeless shelter, food bank, church or school. Check out Volunteer Match for help locating places where you can make a donation.
Be safe, folks, 'cause I don't want you falling down a well or something and not being able to post on your spectacularly entertaining blogs.
Onto the subject at hand.
Real World Wednesday
I am not quite sure where to start this week. The primaries? Nah, others are covering this, well, better than I can. I'll wait till I actually vote and see if my opinion changes.
Oh, Britney. How much do I want to type out my opinions on the Britney Spears situation? I'll save those for a conversation with a co-worker who I've recently discovered is far more obsessed with celebrity gossip than I will ever and offers rather clever commentary.
I could say oh so much about Glowing Pigs.
Instead, I will stick with the tried and true, the steadiest of all conversation topics. The weather.
Out here in California, we call it weather when the temperature drops below 50 and we are faced with 80-150 mph winds. Yep, that seems like weather to me. It rained most of this past weekend. Over 1.2 million people lost power at some point, and there was debris all over the roadways.
I had candles at home and a few snacks to get me through the night, if need be, but I certainly am not prepared for a major emergency (I keep hoping I'll move to a place with more storage soon enough to stock up).
The American Red Cross has an excellent list of items to include in a kit (I sense people running out to Target as I type...).
The feds have put together another handy-dandy list.
Say what you may about FEMA, but they offer a nice resource for thinking about how to prepare yourself (and your family, friends, pets, neighbors, that cute guy across the hall, etc.) for an emergency.
Finally, something that these lists may not touch on is phone numbers. Granted, phones might go out, but in the event that it's merely power you've list, keep phone numbers handy (I'm now seeing myself writing down all the numbers and posting them with a magnet to my fridge). When the power was out, I realized, after several frustrating round-about phone calls to PG&E that I couldn't get any information since I pay my electric pill through my property management company. I'm in the process of getting the correct emergency contact number now.
If you're prepared already, how about making an effort to help others in your life or your community get prepapred. Put together a few kits and donate them to your local homeless shelter, food bank, church or school. Check out Volunteer Match for help locating places where you can make a donation.
Be safe, folks, 'cause I don't want you falling down a well or something and not being able to post on your spectacularly entertaining blogs.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Random Beauty
1) Coming home at 6:30, full of frustration at your property manager who you are beginning to suspect stole two packages and always closes the office early, and taking a ridiculously hot shower and feeling completely refreshed.
2) Eating artisan cheese and then falling asleep with your boyfriend on the too small love-seat, for two hours, waking up, having dinner, and actually going to bed.
3) While napping, telling yourself to remember this moment, to remember being wrapped up together and vaguely uncomfortable on the too small couch. Being aware that there will be a time, with a fancier couch and more responsibility, when remembering this will feel incredible.
2) Eating artisan cheese and then falling asleep with your boyfriend on the too small love-seat, for two hours, waking up, having dinner, and actually going to bed.
3) While napping, telling yourself to remember this moment, to remember being wrapped up together and vaguely uncomfortable on the too small couch. Being aware that there will be a time, with a fancier couch and more responsibility, when remembering this will feel incredible.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Slow
What with power outages, thunder, lightning and rain, I had no choice but to stay inside my apartment all weekend, now did I?
Except for Friday night, of course. I stopped on my way home for gas and found it curious that the power was out at two of the three gas stations by my place, but I figured this was a fluke. Certainly, I would have power, right?
Wrong. I walked in to find WG trying to chop chives by candlelight, hoping against hope that the power would return at any moment and he could finish making his potato soup. No such luck. I had to console him with a bit of a nap and a trip to see the movie he's been dying to see, Juno (bonus Dwight sighting in the movie, for all of you Office fans out there)...we had NO. WARM. FOOD. TO. EAT., people. We had to get out of the house. I can't NOT eat hot food when it's pouring rain outside. So, we got our meal, entertained ourselves at Best Buy playing some odd animal version of tetris...and then went to our 10 o'clock show. I assumed that the power would have to be on by midnight when we returned.
It wasn't.
So, I showered by flashlight and crawled into bed (a bed heated by own personal heater -- sidenote, why are men like furnaces? they burn all their heat outward...there has to be some kind of scientific reason for this), hoping to find the power back on in the morning.
Hurrah! It was.
And so my weekend of gadgets and gizmos and games could commence! Yippee! I scurried down to the gym to workout to the sound of booming thunder, then scurried right on back into my cozy apartment for a day of Warcraft (I'm a geek and proud, gosh darn it), Wii and...uhm...I can't think of anything else that starts with a W. Mostly, it was Warcraft.
And that's when it hit me.
I always have this long list of things to do, and I try to to a little bit of everything each day. After spending five hours on the couch playing a video game, I realize it's all about quality time. Quality time, folks, means that I don't try to squeeze in half an hour of gaming, an hour of working out, an hour of cleaning...but that I spend signficant chunks of time on one sole activity. Maybe that's how I finally become an expert at something instead of mildly good at a lot of things. Now, that's not to say that I'd like that "expert" ability to be with Warcraft, but still, realization had. Moving on.
With the power back on, WG was able to make his longed for soup, and so, I left him in the kitchen for several hours. I didn't even once offer to help! Look at me not being all up in his space.
So, we have soup to last us to the apocolypse, and his craving was certainly satiated.
And then we nearly fell asleep playing Mario Galaxy 8 on the Wii (dang those stupid computer characters - Luigi is a moron and Toadette totally capatalized on that...). Ahh, living in the lap of luxury.
Sunday, more of the same, but this time, I made it a point to play Wii first, ah ha, so as to get in my quality time on the Harry Potter game. Then I cleaned the apartment...so, some kind of quality work got done.
We finally managed to find my dad in Warcraft, and the men came and rescued me, much to my chagrin, from a bit of a...situation...I'd gotten myself into, and it was great fun to play that little ole game online with both WG and my dad. And, from what I hear, my dad got quite the kick out of being able to be a virtual hero.
Evening came, along with my odd little meal of bratwurst and rice (and salad...we must keep ourselves in good health, people).
And then I was back online, perusing the job descriptions. I've found (and applied for! woot!) one job I like so far, and I continue to be picky...but we had a little conversation like this.
Me: Do you want to live in upstate New York?
Him: I don't know anyone there.
Me: And it's too cold. Do you want to live in Maryland?
Him:....
Me:Maryland?
Him: I could do that...
Me: Wait, the job's in Baltimore. I am not living in Baltimore.
Him: Good.
And so the quest continues.
And then it was time for bed and a new week.
And here I am, at work on a sunny day, oddly craving the rain and, understandably, craving the weekend.
Except for Friday night, of course. I stopped on my way home for gas and found it curious that the power was out at two of the three gas stations by my place, but I figured this was a fluke. Certainly, I would have power, right?
Wrong. I walked in to find WG trying to chop chives by candlelight, hoping against hope that the power would return at any moment and he could finish making his potato soup. No such luck. I had to console him with a bit of a nap and a trip to see the movie he's been dying to see, Juno (bonus Dwight sighting in the movie, for all of you Office fans out there)...we had NO. WARM. FOOD. TO. EAT., people. We had to get out of the house. I can't NOT eat hot food when it's pouring rain outside. So, we got our meal, entertained ourselves at Best Buy playing some odd animal version of tetris...and then went to our 10 o'clock show. I assumed that the power would have to be on by midnight when we returned.
It wasn't.
So, I showered by flashlight and crawled into bed (a bed heated by own personal heater -- sidenote, why are men like furnaces? they burn all their heat outward...there has to be some kind of scientific reason for this), hoping to find the power back on in the morning.
Hurrah! It was.
And so my weekend of gadgets and gizmos and games could commence! Yippee! I scurried down to the gym to workout to the sound of booming thunder, then scurried right on back into my cozy apartment for a day of Warcraft (I'm a geek and proud, gosh darn it), Wii and...uhm...I can't think of anything else that starts with a W. Mostly, it was Warcraft.
And that's when it hit me.
I always have this long list of things to do, and I try to to a little bit of everything each day. After spending five hours on the couch playing a video game, I realize it's all about quality time. Quality time, folks, means that I don't try to squeeze in half an hour of gaming, an hour of working out, an hour of cleaning...but that I spend signficant chunks of time on one sole activity. Maybe that's how I finally become an expert at something instead of mildly good at a lot of things. Now, that's not to say that I'd like that "expert" ability to be with Warcraft, but still, realization had. Moving on.
With the power back on, WG was able to make his longed for soup, and so, I left him in the kitchen for several hours. I didn't even once offer to help! Look at me not being all up in his space.
So, we have soup to last us to the apocolypse, and his craving was certainly satiated.
And then we nearly fell asleep playing Mario Galaxy 8 on the Wii (dang those stupid computer characters - Luigi is a moron and Toadette totally capatalized on that...). Ahh, living in the lap of luxury.
Sunday, more of the same, but this time, I made it a point to play Wii first, ah ha, so as to get in my quality time on the Harry Potter game. Then I cleaned the apartment...so, some kind of quality work got done.
We finally managed to find my dad in Warcraft, and the men came and rescued me, much to my chagrin, from a bit of a...situation...I'd gotten myself into, and it was great fun to play that little ole game online with both WG and my dad. And, from what I hear, my dad got quite the kick out of being able to be a virtual hero.
Evening came, along with my odd little meal of bratwurst and rice (and salad...we must keep ourselves in good health, people).
And then I was back online, perusing the job descriptions. I've found (and applied for! woot!) one job I like so far, and I continue to be picky...but we had a little conversation like this.
Me: Do you want to live in upstate New York?
Him: I don't know anyone there.
Me: And it's too cold. Do you want to live in Maryland?
Him:....
Me:Maryland?
Him: I could do that...
Me: Wait, the job's in Baltimore. I am not living in Baltimore.
Him: Good.
And so the quest continues.
And then it was time for bed and a new week.
And here I am, at work on a sunny day, oddly craving the rain and, understandably, craving the weekend.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Scared Silly
I woke up yesterday morning nearly paralyzed by fear.
What had I started? I had begun looking seriously for a new job, found at least one that I'm excited about and had started telling people that I was in the market.
I had told people.
I tend to be the type of person who mulls and fumes and sits and stews until coming to a conclusion that often catches those I love off-guard. They tease me about it in a gentle, loving manner (she said with the utmost sarcasm that typed words can convey), and I know that I can do something to change this.
So, before the first application has gone out of my hot little computer, I am officially telling the chosen few, "Hey, I'm looking for a new job, and that might mean I leave California." This means that in six weeks or six months if I pack up and move away, no one will stand there looking stressed and stunned.
Consider yourselves warned.
But telling people also means that I have to actually do something about my quest. I can't just tell people I'm looking for a new job and then sit here and do nothing. Telling people forces me to look, leap, apply.
The states with jobs I like (Tennessee, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Colorado, Oregon) float around in my head, and yesterday, I woke up thinking, "I know nothing about those places! How can I possibly leave?"
Though I've lived in a city, lived in Boston, lived in L.A., I never really left home for more than a few months. In sum? I've lived in the same town FOR. MY. ENTIRE. LIFE.
Knowing that, does it make more sense why this is all so simultaneously exciting and terrifying?
I work at the library I used as a child.
I work where I volunteered as a teenager.
My parents'and grandparents' former co-workers come in the library and recognize me. It's a small town as you can get in a city of 100,000.
I have to get out of here.
But there are moments when I don't see how I ever will.
I admitted my fears to my mom. She hugged me, with a glisten in her eye, and assured me it would all be alright.
Then I realized, if I wasn't scared, then I would be completely insane. And I'm not that far gone.
There is some comfort in being afraid.
What had I started? I had begun looking seriously for a new job, found at least one that I'm excited about and had started telling people that I was in the market.
I had told people.
I tend to be the type of person who mulls and fumes and sits and stews until coming to a conclusion that often catches those I love off-guard. They tease me about it in a gentle, loving manner (she said with the utmost sarcasm that typed words can convey), and I know that I can do something to change this.
So, before the first application has gone out of my hot little computer, I am officially telling the chosen few, "Hey, I'm looking for a new job, and that might mean I leave California." This means that in six weeks or six months if I pack up and move away, no one will stand there looking stressed and stunned.
Consider yourselves warned.
But telling people also means that I have to actually do something about my quest. I can't just tell people I'm looking for a new job and then sit here and do nothing. Telling people forces me to look, leap, apply.
The states with jobs I like (Tennessee, North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Colorado, Oregon) float around in my head, and yesterday, I woke up thinking, "I know nothing about those places! How can I possibly leave?"
Though I've lived in a city, lived in Boston, lived in L.A., I never really left home for more than a few months. In sum? I've lived in the same town FOR. MY. ENTIRE. LIFE.
Knowing that, does it make more sense why this is all so simultaneously exciting and terrifying?
I work at the library I used as a child.
I work where I volunteered as a teenager.
My parents'and grandparents' former co-workers come in the library and recognize me. It's a small town as you can get in a city of 100,000.
I have to get out of here.
But there are moments when I don't see how I ever will.
I admitted my fears to my mom. She hugged me, with a glisten in her eye, and assured me it would all be alright.
Then I realized, if I wasn't scared, then I would be completely insane. And I'm not that far gone.
There is some comfort in being afraid.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Real World Wednesday
Feminism
Feminism has gotten something of a bad rap in the past...oh...forty years. It's come to be known as man-hating. Its proponents are stereotyped as unattractive, rude, mean and an array of other unpleasant words.
A friend once got me saying, "I don't mean to sound like a feminist," and she stopped me. She would have hit me over the head, but we were having a conversation via telephone. My head hurt all the same.
"Feminism isn't a bad thing," my friend told me,"It's just gotten twisted in the last several years."
She had a point, and since that conversation, I've made it a point to use "feminist" whenever I can, to claim my identity as one, and then, if necessary, to explain what that actually means.
To me, being a feminist means advocating for the life choices women might make. If a woman wants she to be a stay at home mother, and her husband can support that choice, why should working women degrade it? If a woman wants a career, as well as a family, who's to say that's the wrong choice? And women who don't want children at all? Well, that should not be looked upon so oddly as it is.
I am a feminist because I believe women and children have rights that are often ignored. I am a feminist, because I belive women deserve more.
Women's History Month is in March, and I'm sure bloggers everywhere will do something in honor of this special month, perhaps something similar to last year's Inspirational Women. Recent events, though, make it imperative that we all understand feminism before the appointed month to honor women.
On December 27, 2007, Benazir Bhutto, the former Prime Minister of Pakistan was assasinated. Her murderers were so intent on ending her life that they killed at least another twenty people in commission of the murder. A few months before the final attack, 130 people were killed in another attempt on her life. I can't profess to know anything about Pakistani politics, so I won't touch on the issues that some might think led to Ms. Bhutto's death. I can say, though, that she spoke out against selective abortion, in which a woman, fearing the birth of a daughter, will obtain an abortion, rather than present her husband with a female child.
What is so wrong with being born female?
So, we mourn the passing of Ms. Bhutto, if only because she spoke out in support of a woman's right to be born.
For more information:
Benazir Bhutto's Obituary
Selective Abortion
The History of Feminism
National Women's History Project
Feminism has gotten something of a bad rap in the past...oh...forty years. It's come to be known as man-hating. Its proponents are stereotyped as unattractive, rude, mean and an array of other unpleasant words.
A friend once got me saying, "I don't mean to sound like a feminist," and she stopped me. She would have hit me over the head, but we were having a conversation via telephone. My head hurt all the same.
"Feminism isn't a bad thing," my friend told me,"It's just gotten twisted in the last several years."
She had a point, and since that conversation, I've made it a point to use "feminist" whenever I can, to claim my identity as one, and then, if necessary, to explain what that actually means.
To me, being a feminist means advocating for the life choices women might make. If a woman wants she to be a stay at home mother, and her husband can support that choice, why should working women degrade it? If a woman wants a career, as well as a family, who's to say that's the wrong choice? And women who don't want children at all? Well, that should not be looked upon so oddly as it is.
I am a feminist because I believe women and children have rights that are often ignored. I am a feminist, because I belive women deserve more.
Women's History Month is in March, and I'm sure bloggers everywhere will do something in honor of this special month, perhaps something similar to last year's Inspirational Women. Recent events, though, make it imperative that we all understand feminism before the appointed month to honor women.
On December 27, 2007, Benazir Bhutto, the former Prime Minister of Pakistan was assasinated. Her murderers were so intent on ending her life that they killed at least another twenty people in commission of the murder. A few months before the final attack, 130 people were killed in another attempt on her life. I can't profess to know anything about Pakistani politics, so I won't touch on the issues that some might think led to Ms. Bhutto's death. I can say, though, that she spoke out against selective abortion, in which a woman, fearing the birth of a daughter, will obtain an abortion, rather than present her husband with a female child.
What is so wrong with being born female?
So, we mourn the passing of Ms. Bhutto, if only because she spoke out in support of a woman's right to be born.
For more information:
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Be More Creative
Yes, it's a vague resolution, but it's one inspired by a number of things and, thus, must remain somewhat vague.
Over the Christmas holiday, I finally put together a collage of family photos. This isn't inherently creative, but it got me thinking about "making" things, about being artistic. Then, a couple of days ago, I visited the Museum of Modern Art with two friends. I was overwhelmed by the work of Joseph Cornell, confused by entertained by Olafur Eliasson and excited by Jeff Wall.
Jeff Wall's stuff is large-scale photography lighted from behind. In addition to Wall's work, several other photographers' prints were displayed as part of the museum's permanent collection. While I felt inspired and excited, I also felt calmed down by the photography display. Photography suits me, because it is clean. It has a deeper meaning than what you see right away, but there is something orderly about photography that appeals to me. So, my visit to the museum and the Jeff Wall exhibit, in particular, have encouraged me to spend more time on my so-called favorite hobby.
WG gave me a lovely birthday gift - we'll be taking a photography class together...so my "be more creative" resolution is already off to a good start!
In addition, a couple of birthdays ago, Hayley got me 52 Projects: Random Acts of Everyday Creativity. At first, I thought I might try to do one project a week, but I think, instead, I'll pick the projects I like and fit those in throughout the year.
My first project will be to mail copies of old letters to two friends...no one who reads this blog.. The search for the letters was an odd little trip down memory lane...but more on that in another post.
So, here's to creativity.
Happy 2008!
Over the Christmas holiday, I finally put together a collage of family photos. This isn't inherently creative, but it got me thinking about "making" things, about being artistic. Then, a couple of days ago, I visited the Museum of Modern Art with two friends. I was overwhelmed by the work of Joseph Cornell, confused by entertained by Olafur Eliasson and excited by Jeff Wall.
Jeff Wall's stuff is large-scale photography lighted from behind. In addition to Wall's work, several other photographers' prints were displayed as part of the museum's permanent collection. While I felt inspired and excited, I also felt calmed down by the photography display. Photography suits me, because it is clean. It has a deeper meaning than what you see right away, but there is something orderly about photography that appeals to me. So, my visit to the museum and the Jeff Wall exhibit, in particular, have encouraged me to spend more time on my so-called favorite hobby.
WG gave me a lovely birthday gift - we'll be taking a photography class together...so my "be more creative" resolution is already off to a good start!
In addition, a couple of birthdays ago, Hayley got me 52 Projects: Random Acts of Everyday Creativity. At first, I thought I might try to do one project a week, but I think, instead, I'll pick the projects I like and fit those in throughout the year.
My first project will be to mail copies of old letters to two friends...no one who reads this blog.. The search for the letters was an odd little trip down memory lane...but more on that in another post.
So, here's to creativity.
Happy 2008!
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