Potpourri

If you are ever at Target in search of ice cube trays, let me help you out: they're over on the other side of the store by the food storage things, NOT by the rest of the kitchen stuff.
Semi related: if you are ever in need of a jar opener for all your jar opening needs, what you are looking for is a CANNING jar opener.

---

I give a monthly donation to Greenpeace, just a small amount that I set up as an automated payment through their web site. I like that it is a monthly smaller donation rather than a LARGE feeling-guilty donation because that's easier for my budget to handle. Anyhow, so now I'm on Greenpeace's email list. I'd like to be able to unsubscribe because them emailing me about whatever iceberg-melting, rainforest-burning, whale-killing horror is happening right now only stresses me out and I'm still going to give them the exact same amount of money as I do every other month. But apparently to unsubscribe, first I have to go to the web site and 'manage my account' which means that first I have to 'create an account' so I ended up just flagging the emails as spam. Sorry Greenpeace, I still support you both in values and financially but I can only handle so much unrequested communication.

---

KC, while replacing one of my annoyingly tricky and hard to find lightbulbs, "Who was it that said 'let there be light'?"

---

Last week I received an email alert from my school about a job opportunity. Sometimes hospitals, clinics, or recruiters send these out to the school so that the school can forward them to the appropriate group of students. I emailed the contact person and he called me back within the hour. The job sounded really great and they sounded interested in me, even after I explained that because the quarter ends in September I won't have my NP license until October at the earliest. He told me to email my resume and an explanation of my timeline and that he would call me the next day to set up an interview next week (which is now this week). So I emailed my resume and a cover letter that explained my timeline and I included some information from the BRN about the application process for getting my prescribing (furnishing) license to illustrate that aspect of my timeline. I tried not to get my hopes up, but I started daydreaming about what it might be like to work in that clinic and how cool it would be to move into a bigger apartment near the site and what should I wear to the interview?
And then... nothing. I didn't hear anything the next day, which was Friday. I waited until yesterday (Tuesday) and I called. Weirdly, I got one of those automated voicemails "The party you are trying to reach is unavailable, please leave a message," so apparently the guy had called me from his cell phone?
Also, the email address was the guy's personal email, not a company email.
Also, the clinic doesn't have a web site.
I'm starting to wonder if this was a real job at all.

---

I slept in Jenny's bed on Friday night. And now I know EXACTLY how KC feels about his guitar. My bed sucks.

---

My parents got me a Kindle for my birthday. It was a very nicely coordinated gift-- they got me the Kindle and my sisters got me a Kindle cover and some Amazon gift cards. I LOVE IT. I can't believe how pleasant it has made taking public trans. It's like boarding muni with a STACK of books and I just zone out with my stories and let myself get taken to a dream world of magic.
I'm a little disappointed they don't have the Babysitters Club books for Kindle because that's pretty much my fave guilty pleasure reading and then I could read them in public (instead of just at my parents' house, where my mom politely pretends she doesn't notice) because NO ONE WOULD HAVE TO KNOW. Get on that, Amazon.

Drawer Zen

I had a coupon for the thrift store yesterday. If I spent $10 or more then I got $5 off. After picking out my new old scrub tops I decided to get a couple more things and of course my total rang up to $7. Because I'm good at math (actually I hadn't accounted for the fact that some of the items I was buying were on sale... which I guess makes it still a math error).

I picked out some pillowcases and a little zippy pouch that will be good for carrying... oh I don't know bandaids or hand sanitizer or something else I'm supposed to bring to El Salvador.

I also bought this little drawer organizey thing. I thought it might be the right size for one of my kitchen drawers and even if it didn't fit, well, it was only seventy cents so what did I have to lose?

This is the drawer in question:

Eek. Not very Zen.

And here it is now:

In the back of the drawer are my membership cards for a couple casinos in Vegas (someone please remind me where those are the next time I'm packing for a trip there), some knives used to open parcels, and Bowie's leash and extra collars. On the side of the drawer is a map of my fair city.
I moved my cloth napkins to a cabinet and used the plastic organizey thing to make this more of a junk drawer-- a catchall for all those annoying little things that clutter up space but that I would be irritated if I just threw them all out. Because what if I found myself suddenly in need of a birthday candle or a rubber band or a chair scoochy pad or an entire roll of tokens for the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk? WHAT THEN?

Scrubs

Have I mentioned that I'm going to El Salvador in two weeks? No? That's because I keep forgetting. I'm going with a group that takes medical professionals to Central and South America to perform surgeries and provide medical care. I'm not sure exactly what I'll be doing; they said to be prepared to step outside my typical role and help with whatever they need.
I'm excited.
I'm terrified.
I keep forgetting about the trip because I haven't heard very much from the organization-- apparently they do a LOT of these types of excursions so they're tied up planning and focusing on one of the trips happening right NOW. So I haven't gotten a whole lot of info. I'll only be gone a week, so I'm not freaking out too much, though the lack of information has thrown me a little. I learned last week that I'm to bring all of my personal things in a carry on bag; my checked bag will be filled with medical supplies. That's fine, of course. I mean, I shouldn't need that much crap for a weeklong trip, most of which I'll be spending inside a hospital. But that's the kind of thing that might be good to let people know ahead of time, just in case there are any heavy packers (me) in the group.

I also learned I was going to need 3 sets of scrubs. Why do scrubs have to be so universally unflattering, may I ask? And by 'universally unflattering' I don't mean 'they look bad on everyone.' What I mean is 'ALL scrubs look bad on ME.' Which is probably an incorrect usage of the term 'universally.'
I really haven't worn scrubs very much since the first year of my program (the RN part). I've gotten away with business casual plus a lab coat for most of my clinicals and job opportunities since then. But when I do wear scrubs I've found that I tend to like the tops with maximum pockets. Seriously, the more pockets, the better. Just show me how many pockets you can sew onto a scrub top and I will wear the hell out of that sucker. The pants, though. The PANTS. They're either too short or too tight or too bunchy or have longcrotch syndrome.

I actually did once own three sets of scrubs but they were from the first year of my program and the tradition is that you pass on your scrubs to the next class of students. I hung onto one set, just in case.

But, ugh, after wearing it to clinicals that whole year just looking at it makes me feel a tad nauseous. All the days of waking up at 4 am to drive to my clinical site, the back-to-back 12 hr days, the fear of doing something wrong, the feeling I wasn't EVER going to get it. Shudder.
Would you like to see what I looked like on my very first day? Here's a photo of my clinical group (that I spent entirely too much time editing on Picnik because my fellow classmates might not necessarily want their photos up on here).

That was our VERY FIRST DAY of the RN program! We didn't know how to give meds, how how to listen to the lungs, how to insert catheters, or even how to make BEDS yet. But we sure did have some big, tense smiles!

So I still do have one set of those green and khaki scrubs, though I'd prefer not to wear that combo. Today I went to the thrift store to see if I could find some gently used scrubs. Because scrub sets aren't exactly free. Not that they would be, of course, but sometimes I feel like if they're going to be so unflattering at least they should be cheap. I did manage to score two scrub tops for a total of $3.50.

Many pockets.

And then I went to an actual medical uniform store in search of some acceptable scrub pants. These ones were okayish, and they were on sale for $10 each.

So now I'm basically ready to go! All I have to do now is learn medical Spanish.

Superjules, NP

Yesterday was good. I had lunch, cocktails, and retail therapy with Jenny (and Gabriel (he didn't have any cocktails but he did get some new Legos)). Jenny talked me into buying a pretty dress and she bought a business suit for her fancy new grownup career. And then I came home and found a care package from Doing My Best which included yummy brownies AND a sweet little unicorn figurine.

And THEN I opened my email and found this:

I passed my Giant Paper Thing.
I am actually, finally, officially DONE.

Basically I rule at DIY.

Due to certain events this weekend I decided I wanted to have a nice little project with which to distract myself. I have been pining for some spice rack shelves ever since I first saw them. I figured I probably shouldn't get some for my apartment because there isn't a whole lot of wall space left, what with all my flea market treasures, and I also don't want things to be too cluttered.

But then I had a idea!

I'm kind of embarrassed to post this photo because it illustrates the fact that I've been living with my stupid five dollar Target mirror for far too long. It has a bunch of sticky tabs on the back from way back several years ago when I tried to adhere it to the wall of my apartment in LA. That worked for about ten seconds before it came crashing down, so then I just leaned the mirror against the wall. Looking at yourself in a mirror leaning against the wall has two main problems: (1) it's a bad angle and (2) you can't see your topmost regions. So when I wanted to use my full length mirror for its intended purpose I would pick it up and balance it on the freezer door or on a chair. Oy.
I decided that it was HIGH TIME for a new mirror solution which would simultaneously free up some wall space in my bedroom nook for some spice rack shelves!
Time for a field trip to IKEA.

Step 1: New Mirror

I got the Bonett mirror from IKEA ($20) because it was the skinniest one I could find. It is now affixed to the tiny bit of wall space behind the bathroom door. Notice how you can see my FULL LENGTH in the photo?

Step 2: Spice Rack Shelves

I bought 3 spice racks at IKEA for $3.99 each. And this is the part where again I wonder why I tell you everything because you're just going to make fun of me.
I've recently started reading some blogs about improving one's home and organizing. And actually, that was where I first saw the idea of spice rack bookshelves come to life. My execution of it did not go quite as smoothly.
The people on those blogs are always building things and spackling things and painting things and rewiring things, and going on and on about how they and find great old crap at the Goodwill and give it a coat of paint and a new life and DIY is so easy and cheap, just try it! So I thought I would try it. These people particularly seem to do a lot of spray painting, so I thought I would give that a shot. I bought a can of burgundy paint and I had planned to do my painting while I was at my parents' house on Sunday, somewhere in their huge back yard, but then I didn't end up having time. So here I was in my apartment with my spice racks and a can of paint and a nice bare wall and ooooh I was just itching to have them up and done.

So I made a trip down to the basement for scrap cardboard and put down a layer of it on my bathroom floor. Then I started painting (I could only handle doing two of them at once).

Do you like how I cleverly arranged the cardboard in a nest like configuration to protect the bathroom?

I left them in there to dry for awhile (and to allow the fumes to be pumped out the bathroom vents).
Look how great they turned out!

(That's not my address on the box, not even close).

I was quite pleased with myself. I DIY-ed the hell out of those spice racks. And it was easy peasy! No muss, no--
SHIT SHIT SHIT.

What the hell is that? Oh, it's paint. PAINT ALL OVER THE FLOOR.

Apparently, APPARENTLY, I hadn't noticed that while I was working, tiny particles of spray paint were floating down all around me. The floor that I had covered with the cardboard was fine, but the rest was pink.
Yeah, this is why people don't use spray paint indoors. I'm an idiot. WITH A PINK FLOOR.
Although, in my defense, one of the lightbulbs in my bathroom is burnt out so it was rather dim in there and I couldn't really tell that there was so much paint on the floor until after I had moved the boxes. But I guess one could argue that maybe I shouldn't have been painting in a dim bathroom in the first place....

So I stared at the mess for a moment, feeling panicky, and then I halfheartedly opened a bottle of nail polish remover and tipped a little of it onto the floor. OH! It worked! So then I busted out the all natural cleaning spray and some rags went to work on the floor. And that worked too! The paint was actually pretty easy to remove from the floor. But I've learned my lesson: spray painting is for doing outside. After I had used my hippy natural cleaning spray on the whole floor I dumped out some more nail polish remover over the floor, too. Just for good measure. Because the thing my bathroom needed most was certainly MORE harsh, smelly chemicals.

After the shelves had completely dried, I put them together.

Okay, they really do look good, don't they? The color is nice, the paint job looks fairly even, the bathroom isn't ruined. Let's call it a success!

Oh, COME ON!

Table

Let's talk about something else, shall we? How about that flea market table I mentioned?

This is my old nightstand.

Hmmm. Not very Zen, is it?
The table itself was fine. It was small enough to work as a nightstand in my wee bedroom nook, it was stable and okay to look at, and it was free (I found it on the street near my house). The problem was that it tended to get cluttered pretty easily with books and whatnot. Plus, I received two Snuggies for Christmas this year and I didn't know where to put them because they fold kind of awkwardly what with the sleeves and all. I tried them as couch throw-blankets but it was too haphazard looking so I just bunched them up and stuck them on the bottom shelf of the nightstand. No, not very Zen at all.

A couple weeks ago at the Treasure Island Flea I found this table.

I thought it was so neat-- it's like a magazine-rack table!
The lighting looks a little weird in that photo but I was so excited to put my new table in its new spot that I didn't bother to try and take a better one. It was originally $30 but the guy let me have it for $25.

And here it is as the new nightstand.

I feel like it actually looks a little odd there because it is significantly taller than the bed, but I also think it looks better than the old one since it is less cluttered. I particularly enjoy having a special area for my current books.
The Snuggies live in a cabinet now.

Dating me is not easy.

I have a couple new posts in the queue. (Wait. Seriously? That's how you spell queue? How awesome and ridiculous all at the same time.)
Starting over: I have couple new posts in the queue, one about my weekend trip to Vegas and one about my new table from the flea market, but both of those are on hold for right now because last night KC told me that his ex girlfriend is coming to town this weekend and he wants to hang out with her. So the presses have been stopped in order to deal with this breaking news item.

KC wants to spend time with his ex this weekend. And. Um. I just... ugh. Ack.

It that makes me anxious and tense.

It bothers me that he's going to hang out with her, but not in the way you might think.
Despite having screwed over in the past so very much, I actually really do trust KC. He has never given off a shady vibe or made me feel suspicious. He always answers the phone when I call; he's never weirdly unavailable or secretive. He'll leave his facebook page or email signed in on my computer and I feel zero urge to go through it. And if I ever DO have an odd feeling about something he is more than willing to talk to me about it. Also, to KC's credit, he talked to me before hanging out with her, and even waited to talk to me in person about it instead of over the phone. He didn't secretly go spend time with her and tell me about it later or not at all, unlike some people.

I just want to make it very clear that I trust KC so that isn't what the issue is here.
The issue is me and my own insecurities and jealous tendencies. It's something I have written about before, something I hate about myself.


I think that part of the problem is actually MY ex, the crazy one. It's easy to blame things on him because that relationship was such a cacophony of fuckeduppedness, but in this case I feel like it's really true-- I can look back to the time BC (Before Crazy) and see how I've changed.
Basically, what Crazy Ex did was a lot of emotional manipulation, part of which included making me feel competitive and insecure about his ex (are you following?). He didn't want us to get along, probably because he didn't want her to ever take me aside and say "Hey, Jules, this guy is bad news and p.s. I'm MARRIED TO HIM."*
*No, I didn't know that until after Crazy Ex and I had broken up and they were also divorced by then. I didn't know that they had ever been married. You'd think someone in his life might have mentioned that to me during the two years I was with him.

Maybe you will want to tell me that, pshh, it isn't a big deal to not get along with your partner's ex. And that's true, they're exes for a reason and there can be a lot of complicated history and hurt feelings and why on earth would you LIKE someone who dated your boyfriend before you?
But, you see, when you are in a relationship with an emotionally abusive sociopath the regular rules are out the window because you aren't dealing with someone with normal human emotions and tendencies. It wasn't just that I didn't get along with Crazy Ex's ex girlfriend (wife). No no, Crazy Ex purposely manufactured tension between his ex and me, so that we would never get along and that he could get exactly what he wanted out of both relationships. If he hadn't done this, I might not have been her best friend but I don't think I would have felt nauseous and panicky every time I saw her. Just like all the other ways he emotionally abused me, this started slowly (a word here, an old photo there) but eventually wore me down. It got to the point where he would openly compare me to her and and list the ways in which she was better. I got to the point where I felt like I could never measure up, that our relationship would never measure up to what theirs had been.


So. With all of that as backstory, let's go back to the issue at hand. KC wants to hang out with his ex.
When KC first moved to the Bay Area it was with this girl. She was moving here so he basically followed her. And then after a year(ish?) in SF he followed her up to Marin County when she wanted to move there. And then she cheated on him, broke up with him, and left him with a 2 bedroom house he couldn't afford and a lease he couldn't break. And two cats.
So one issue is that I have trouble understanding why KC would even WANT to be friends with someone who so royally screwed him over, but then again being friends with your ex is already a difficult concept for me to grasp.
And my other issue is that, as you can see, she was a BIG part of his life. He was very committed to that relationship and, according to his friends, devastated when it was over. When I'm in the mood to drive myself insane with obsessive thought-circles I do things like wonder if KC will ever be as committed to me as he clearly was to her, or if I'll ever be as important to him as she was, or if he loves me as much as he loved her.

I KNOW that logically I should just chill the hell out and not let it bother me-- I trust KC and if he wants to hang out with his ex then fine, whatever, have a good time.
I KNOW that KC is totally different from my Crazy Ex and that it probably doesn't even occur to him to, like, compare his relationship with me to his relationship with her. To him, letting her come over and see the cats is just letting her come over and see the cats. To me and my insane thought processes, it's them reminiscing about the life they once shared.

Logically, I know it should not be a big deal and that I should hold my head high and just get over it but logic doesn't take away my anxiety.

If you have any words to share that might help me get through this weekend, I'd be very appreciative. I DO have a therapist which is very helpful for when I want to explore my thoughts and feelings. But here I know what my thoughts and feelings are, I know where they originate and why they are so bothersome, but I don't know what to do when they come up. Go shopping? Repeat a nice, positive  phrase over and over in my head? Do something productive so I feel accomplished?
You've gotta give me some ideas because weeping in the shower just isn't cutting it.

___
EDIT TO ADD: I'd like to thank everyone who commented or who separately gave me words of advice or sympathy about this. I think sometimes I overanalyze myself and tend to think I'm reacting to something because of my previous relationships-- I'm messed up because of this or I'm extra sensitive because of that. I was beating myself up over this situation, but I came to realize that my reaction to it wasn't bad or wrong. It is okay that I'm not comfortable with this, even if KC doesn't understand, because my feelings actually matter.

New Glasses!

For my birthday, my mom said she would by me some new glasses. The unspoken part of that sentence was more like she would buy me some new glasses if I would just finally go see the eye doctor like she'd been reminding me to do, for pete's sake. She's right of course, scary things like macular degeneration and other eye-related issues do run in my family AND at my recent license renewal appointment at the DMV the lady told me to read part of the eye chart without my glasses so I took them off and then I had to ask her where the eye chart was. She just shook her head and checked the 'must wear corrective lenses' box on my form. So, yeah, time for an eye appointment and some new glasses.
After jumping through a seemingly endless series of hoops trying to coordinate my student health insurance with someone who would take it, I went to the eye doctor.
And I got new glasses!

Don't you love them? Aren't they so much better than my old ones?

What's that? You don't see a difference? Come on, look again!

New Glasses

Old Glasses

Okay, fine. They're pretty much exactly the same as my old ones. Except they have fun green tint on the inside and also a firefly detail on the sides.

Practical and stylish with just a touch of whimsy.

I also got some prescription sunglasses for the very first time in my life.

Which, wow. Even in bright sunlight I can SEE ALL THE THINGS. Makes me sorta wonder what I've been missing all these years.

I also decided to place an order with Zenni Optical, which I first heard about here. I ordered three pairs for just under $50 including shipping. One pair was $6.95, one was $9.95, and one was $12.95, plus I sprang for the anti-reflection coating on them for $4.95 for each pair (which might have been a racket but even with that extra charge my entire order was so laughably cheap compared to every other pair of glasses I had ever owned that I decided to go for it). I have what I lovingly refer to as a pin head-- I am rather petitely craniumed-- so I decided to choose two pairs that were listed as size "medium" and one size "small." There are measurements and so forth on the site but I found myself getting kind of bogged down by it all. Basically I kept coming back to the fact that they were so cheap that even if they didn't fit OR look good I still spent less than $50 on back up glasses. Plus, since I ordered three pairs, odds were that ONE of them would be okay. So I picked the ones I liked best, typed in my prescription and pupillary distance, and they were in my mailbox less than a week later.
Enough chatter! Wanna see them?
Pair #1- Christmassy patterned red and white stripies!

It probably didn't make a whole lot of sense to order Christmassy glasses in JULY but I got very excited when I saw them.
I tried to take a photo to show you the stripies.

But my forehead kind of blends into the wall here so I tried again.

Better.
Although... it's unlikely that in real life I'll be wearing these in situations of intelligence like lectures or interviews and sort of holding my glasses halfway down my nose so I can inspect something of importance at closer range.
More likely I'll wear these at a Christmas party, so let's try that type of photo.

Here I am at your Christmas party! I'm very proper with my pinky up and also very charming!

Actually, more likely is this version of me at your Christmas party:

I'm not socializing on the couch, I'M AT THE FOOD TABLE.

Pair #2- Plasticy pink in a more roundish shape! (Why didn't Zenni hire me to write descriptions for the glasses?)

In this photo I attempted the 'looking at the camera' technique. I feel like it comes off kind of creepy.... I'M LOOKING RIGHT AT YOU.

Pair #3- Black plastic with pink accents!

These are definitely my favorites of the ones I ordered from Zenni. I like the shape and I LOVE the pink accents. You can't tell in the photo but the pink goes all the around the inside of the frames so when I'm looking out through them sometimes my view gets tinted pink or has pink fuzzies in the corner. I brought them with me this weekend since I didn't want to bring my nice glasses and I experienced for the first time the phenomenon of not feeling the urge to remove my glasses before having my photo taken.
I usually buy glasses I like, but I think I tend to feel like I don't totally look like MYSELF when I'm wearing them. This time, the experience of looking through hundreds of options, clicking to 'try them on' a photo of myself, and ordering several different, colorful styles I hadn't previously tried made it way more fun. It made them more like an accessory, instead of just something I have to wear in order to see.
They aren't just glasses anymore, they're FACE JEWELRY.

aloha, cousin

This is my cousin, Christopher.

We were at the beach in Hawaii, so the shaka sign is very appropriate. He was probably taking a break between surfing and skimboarding, hanging out in the shade for a little while. I think this photo is from our family vacation when I was about 8, which means he was about 16.
That vacation was pretty awesome, as you might expect. I don't remember a whole lot of details from it, just little snippets here and there... swimming and splashing in the warm ocean water... eating shave ice... collecting macadamia nuts and avocado pits from the ground... walking around downtown and buying shell necklaces... drinking big glasses of POG and playing cards or charades....

My family lived pretty far away from Chris's while we were growing up, so vacations and visits were pretty much the only times we saw each other. Chris would tease me and goof around, in a big brotherly sort of way (or at least that's what I imagine, having never had a brother). Since I was so much younger than everyone else I was treated like a baby a lot of the time. But not by Chris-- he was somehow always able to make me feel included and special.

Seven years ago we all flew out to Hawaii for Chris's wedding.
Six years ago we all flew out to Hawaii for Chris's funeral.

There's not much else I can tell you about Chris. I'd love to talk about his music and his jokes and his beautiful wife, but those stories aren't mine to share. And there are so many things about him that I don't know myself, that I'll never know and I can't ask.
I'll never truly know him. I'll never understand what was going through his mind the night he walked into his garage and ended his life. I can't tell you about his struggles, his pain, or his anguish because I never knew about any of it.
The last time I saw him he seemed like the same old Chris, lighthearted and laid-back. Joking. Smiling. Happy.


After his memorial, we buried Chris's ashes on a hill overlooking the a sugar cane field and the sea. We cried and laughed and told our favorite stories about him. No one asked those difficult questions that I'm sure we were all pondering.
Why...?
and How could he...?
and How could we not have...?



When I tell people about Chris, they sometimes ask me if we were close. It happens more often than you'd think."I was really shaken up-- my cousin committed suicide."
"Oh... were you close?"

They say it sympathetically, like it is meant as a condolence, but the words catch in my ears and infuriate me.
Was I close? To my cousin whose death makes me physically ill?
DOES IT FUCKING MATTER?

Also: It's complicated.
To say that Chris and I were close would not be true. But to say that we weren't doesn't acknowledge what he meant to me, what he still means to me.

He was my cousin.
He was the only boy amongst a whole mess of girls.
He was our grandmother's clear favorite.
He was a jokester, a buddy, a nomad.
He was a musician and an artist and a surfer.
He was... different. I remember knowing that he was different before I knew what that meant or how hard it could be to be different from your family. He was unique and unapologetically himself.

Our family is loving and supportive, but Chris was someone who truly accepted and, for lack of a better word, celebrated people and their individual choices. I don't know how to say this without making the rest of my family sound like a crew of jerks, so let me be clear: I love my family dearly and I know they love me and are very proud of me. But Chris was, as I said, different. I don't think he would have cared that I have tattoos or that I've made some mistakes and done things of which I am not proud. Even if I had done something like quit school, I think he would have been nothing but accepting and supportive.

I remember that while all of us were getting caught up and stressed out about the little things, Chris was always there to see the bigger picture, the important piece.
Until, one day, he wasn't.

So, I feel like Chris and I could have been close. But of course I'll never know.