The Last Good Day

Alternate title: I CANNOT FUCKING BELIVE WE ARE NOT CELEBRATING THE UPCOMING INAUGURATION OF MADAME PRESIDENT HILLARY RODHAM CLINTON.

I guess the actual last good day was November 7th, when I set out my "I'm With Her" tee shirt and went to bed full of hope and excitement. On November 8th, I stuck an H sticker on the back of my newborn baby's onesie and we went out for our first solo outing to drop off my ballot. And then everything fell apart. And since then it seems like things are getting worse and more outlandish. I'm not surprised by the news anymore. I continue to be horrified.

I wrote a letter to our CURRENT president, Barack Obama, a few days ago. I don't know if it will ever fall into his hands, but I'm glad I wrote it. I didn't mention Fuckface von Clownstick in it, but just tried to focus on thanking Obama, the man who campaigned for hope.

I hope we survive the next four years.

Potpourri

2017 is here. And that's good. Because I feel like 2016 was a series of various sized nightmares. With the exception of the birth of my darling baby boy, 2016 can pretty much die in a fire. I'm sure I'm exaggerating. I heard there was some good news about tigers and probably other stuff also, but the election and its aftermath have pretty much broken my spirit/heart/etc. As the results rolled in, I held my three week old baby and sobbed onto his tiny, fuzzy head. "Mama's sorry" I whispered over and over. Sorry for what? Not worrying enough? Not doing enough? Bringing him into THIS world instead of a better one? Yeah, all of that. Fuck. What is 2017 and all its trappings going to bring? I'm terrified.

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I'm still mad at Google for taking away the Reader. I feel like it had a big effect on blogging, in terms of me reading them and writing in mine. And probably other people's too, I imagine. I wrote a sentence about my blogging community, but I hated that phrase so much I had to delete it. Anyhow, Niall asked me what my New Year's resolution was and I said I'd like to get back into blogging. Which, now I feel like I've set myself up for failure but whatever.

***

Our other resolution is to reconfigure our living room. We have a lot of open shelving storage and lately have been looking around the room and realizing that this little pip squeak is going to be mobile in a few months and... yikes. We don't have a huge amount of space, nor can we afford to move into a larger place, so we're going to have to get creative. Part of the problem is that we use our kitchen table as a desk, so we need to somehow get both functions out of the space. We went to Ikea yesterday and bought a smaller dining set. And we ordered a rolly stand thing for the computer. Once we get those things sorted, we'll be moving the couch where the table currently is so it blocks the big bookshelves. And we need a better filing system. Better, I mean, than "put the mail and important papers in a pile and set it aside until some internal alarm goes off and then panic and find the thing."

***

Is Hawaiian Punch equally bad as soda (Coke, specifically) or slightly less bad? I know it's bad, but HOW bad?

***

Today is rainy and I'm extra tired for some reason and Niall is at work, so I'm sleeping when the baby sleeps. He just conked out so excuse me, the couch is calling.

Cat update

Bowie’s behavior continues to mystify.

He hasn’t peed anywhere inappropriate recently (*knocks furiously on desk and own head*), but he seems to still be more… anxious? restless? annoying? Than usual.

 

Like, in the evenings at our old place he used to just hang out in the living room or wherever we were. He would lie down on the back of the couch or curl up in a chair and take a snooze. Now usually starting at about 8PM he just won’t settle down. He’ll stalk around the room and go over to the bookshelves and knock the contents to the floor. He’ll knock papers off the desk and shred them into tiny pieces. He’ll stand at the front door and meow. He’s 12 years old, so I sort of thought he would get LESS active and crazy over the years, but it doesn’t seem like it. And it seems like it coincides with all the big changes in his life, but I don’t know how to fix it.

About, oh, a year ago I want to say (?), the vet (old vet, not new vet) told me that Bowie was too heavy at 26lbs and needed to go on a diet or else he would get diabetes. The vet recommended Fancy Feast Tender Beef because it’s high in protein and doesn’t have fillers or grains. So now he gets one can of Fancy Feast Tender Beef in the morning and one in the evening, plus a tiny scoop of dry food when we put him in the garage at bedtime.

As a semi-related side note, have I told you about my former cat sitter who shamed me about Bowie’s food? He texted me while I was out of town to tell me that Bowie had eaten HIS ENTIRE BOWL OF FOOD from the previous day and maybe I should consider an automatic cat feeder. I was like 1. Call me when the cat DOESN’T eat his entire bowl of food. Then I’ll be worried. And 2. Are you trying to talk yourself out of a job?

Anyhow, I digress, but it was just an interested incident of someone worrying about my 26 pound cat being UNDERfed.

On his new diet, Bowie went from 26 pounds to 17 pounds. HE LOST NINE POUNDS. That’s like, a whole normal sized cat. His bones started to stick out more. And now he's all jittery and anxious. So maybe he DOES need to eat more now? About a month ago I decided that if it would make him HAPPIER, I would just give him more food. So I bought this automatic cat feeder to give him little snackies while I was at work. I had it for a week and a half before Bowie managed to break it so that the lids won’t close anymore. So then I started leaving him a little extra food in the morning before I left for work and he started puking on a daily basis. Because apparently he will just EAT ALL THE FOOD if you just leave it out.

I’ve started trying to give him more attention when I first get home from work and later in the evenings.

I’ve tried distracting him with the laser pointer when he starts throwing papers on the floor.

I’ve tried squirting him with water when he does his annoying habits.

I’ve tried opening the balcony door and letting him wander out there in the evenings.

I’ve tried sprinkling catnip on his scratch pad.

I’ve tried giving him an extra little snack in the evenings and a bigger one at bedtime.

Nothing has changed.

I think my next step will be one of those anti-anxiety cat collars or diffusers. Anyone have experience with that?

Potpourri

I've started getting up a little earlier so I can stop at Target on my way to work. It's the BEST. I get my coffee, because apparently that's part of my life now. And then I take a little stroll around the empty, pristine Target which is Ah May Zing.

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I love Sharpies. I wanted to write a whole post about how much I love Sharpies, but that's basically all.

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I went to the doctor for a checkup the other day. She asked me how many times in the last 3 months that I had more than 3 drinks. I say "Maybe three times?" And I got a lecture about cutting back, AND a follow-up email with tips for slowing down and trying to drink less. "Set your glass down in between sips!" Okay, but. Really?

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My sister: "Hey! Where did you get those chips?"
My 3 year old niece: "It's celery."

It was not celery.

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I spend a certain percentage of my job on the phone, and I sometimes have to spell out medication names. And sometimes I’m spelling those medications to people with bad phone connections or hearing problems. I really should just bookmark this page because if I’m in the middle of spelling something I panic and say things like “Okay it’s simvastatin. S as in syrup, i as in impossible, m as in muppet, v as in voluptuous, a as in Appalachian…”

And because my brain is my brain, I ALSO start thinking of even worse ones “P as in phlebotomist” or "t as in tsunami.”

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On a more positive note, I have successfully transitioned to saying “my pleasure” at work instead of “no problem” when somebody thanks me. I always felt a little odd when I said no problem because I feel like it still sounds like “Well this is kind of a problem, but don’t worry, I’ll do it anyhow as a favor.” My pleasure, however, THAT’s customer service.

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I cut my own bangs last night. And now I remember two things: why I don't usually do that, AND where my original avatar pic came from.

dolla dolla bills y'all

I recently took my car in for its 245,000 mile service. It was a minor service, which cost me $62 last time. But this time I had a surprise need for new brakes. The mechanic called me “You need new brakes, is that okay?” Me: Um. YES. Yes please. BRAKES. Give me the newest brakes that you have. BRAKES ARE IMPORTANT.

Anyhow, my “minor” service now consisted of new brakes and fixing a valve to the tune of just over seven hundred bucks. Which, that was fine.  I cheerfully slapped down my credit card, because BRAKES. My 1997 Honda is still chugging along (I hope I didn’t just jinx her), but this unexpected major expense got me thinking about money and how I manage it, which, incidentally, is not very well.

I tend to go in cycles. For awhile I’ll put everything on my credit card and studiously pay if off every month. And then I’ll start feeling like that is a Bad Idea because technically I’m spending imaginary FUTURE money when I use my credit card which can be dangerous and spin out of control. So then I’ll start paying cash and using my debit card, but then an unexpected expense will pop up and I’ll start getting nervous about the payments I have on auto debit so I’ll ‘borrow’ some money from my savings to pad my checking account a little bit and then I’ll start putting a few things here and there on my credit card and then I’ll go fully back to credit carding but I never feel like I’m completely settled in a successful way of budgeting.

This just won’t do. As of today I am implementing a new system.

Setting aside lofty financial goals (retirement) and other expenses (student loans), I came up with a couple lists of things I have observed about myself. My financial strengths and weaknesses, if you will.

Things I cannot do:

1.       Save money in my checking account- Can’t do it. I don’t know where it all goes but it’s like my account is a leaky bathtub. If it the money’s in my checking account it won’t be there for long.
2.       Save money in my savings account if it is easy to get to- Transfer money to checking, you say? Don’t mind if I do! And then: leaky bathtub phenomenon.
3.       Trust myself to keep an accurate calculation of all of my spending- I have my student loan payments and a couple other expenses on auto debit and I’m forever nervous that I’ll spend too much from my checking account and end up being overdrawn.
4.       Accurately calculate- Because let’s be honest.
5.       Pay for everything with cash or debit- See items 4 and 5.

And, to make myself feel a smidgen better. Here are some things I CAN do:

1.       Maintain a small ‘buffer’ of money in my checking account- I do an embarrassing amount of math every month to MAKE SURE I have more money in my checking account than I have things it is slated to cover.
2.       Save money in a savings account that is difficult to get to- I do save money. I do!  It is safer if it is difficult to access (It is safEST if I don’t even know it is there. Which explains why I've put cash in milk bottles and squirrel them away in hiding places so that I eventually forget about them (or have I?)), so now I have an account that isn’t affiliated with the bank where my main checking account is and I also don’t have a card for it or mobile access on my phone. I have weekly automatic debits set up that transfer money from my checking account to my savings. To access that money I would have to transfer it BACK to my checking account and THEN use it. For some reason that extra step helps the money actually stay in the savings account and not get bathtubbed away.
3.       Pay off my credit cards on time and in full- My mom taught me to always always ALWAYS pay off my credit card ON TIME and IN FULL. Always. Thus far there has only been one instance wherein I did not do this. It was during the time in my life when my crazy ex was being a human suckerfish and siphoning away all of my money/energy/self-esteem and I was trying to keep my whole situation from unraveling completely so I got a tad behind on some things. I couldn’t QUITE pay off my credit card bill one month and so I had to let the balance sit there and the fees start accumulating until I was moving and starting school again and trying to get things back in some semblance of order. So I womanned up and …  uh. Asked my mommy for help. She looked over my bank statement and SIGHED AND SHOOK HER HEAD (if you knew my mom you’d understand that this is actually quite terrifying and an awful punishment in and of itself). Now I always pay off my credit cards on time and in full. Always.

Okay, so I know you are waiting on bated breath to hear about my NEW SYSTEM. Taking into account what I am able to do and what history has learned me that I am definitely unable to do, here is my new system:

1.       Pay for most things with my credit cards- and obviously pay off my credit cards on time and in full
2.       Maintain only a small buffer of money in my checking account to make sure I’m never overdrawn when my auto debits and other payments go through- any extra money in checking gets transferred into savings
3.       Always have enough money in savings to cover the amount of my credit card spending at the time it is credit carded

In that way it’s like I’m using my savings account as a SUB-checking account, if you will. Pay for stuff with my credit card, pay my credit card off with my checking account, but have enough money overall so that I’m not actually going into debt when I use my credit card.

I’ll keep only enough money in my checking account so as not to ever be overdrawn because any extra money in there will just disappear. So instead of keeping it there and fighting against its natural tendency to disappear, I’ll transfer any extra dollars to the external savings account.

Technically I suppose AM spending future money that I haven’t earned yet because I pay my credit card off with the money from my checking account which I earn each payday. But I DO have the money, it’s in savings, it exists. And if I needed to I could take it out and apply it to my credit card payment, but I'd rather keep it in savings and apply my new money from payday to my credit card. If this makes any sense at all.

I was talking about this with Sunny and she told me that she has a system of three accounts: checking, savings, and spending. On payday the money goes into her checking account. Then she transfers a certain amount into her spending account to, uh, spend. And then if there is leftover money at the end of the month in her checking or spending, it goes into savings. Maybe I should have talked to her first and I wouldn't have come up with my system of buffers and credit carding, but we all deal with our leaky bathtubs in different ways. What's yours?

in a pot, not a pan

My 9 year old niece is very BUSY. She has a ton of interests and likes to do projects that often involve inventing or making something. She takes pieces of cardboard and bits and bobs she finds in the cupboards and makes them into little invented board games. This one time, about two years ago, she cracked open a whole bag of almonds from their shells and candy coated them with melted chocolate. All on her own. We didn’t know what she was up to until she came in from the backyard with a bag of shelled almonds and a hammer. This other time I was talking to her and she said “my pants ripped, so I had to sew them.” Sure enough, there was a crooked line of tiny stitches up one of her pant legs. I told my sister I was impressed and she said “Yeah, me too. I wasn’t even home.” So I guess what I’m saying is that once she gets and idea in her head she HAS TO DO IT. Anyhow, that’s not what this post is about, I just like those stories.

This one time my dad and I were hanging out with my 9 year old niece and she wanted to make lemonade. My parents happen to have a very prolific lemon tree so she got to work picking, cutting, and juicing lemons. Then she requested simple syrup because she knows that just regular old sugar won’t do. My dad volunteered to make it and I started looking up a recipe on my phone. My niece cut in with “Wait! Listen, here’s how you do it! You just take a certain amount of sugar and your own amount of water and you put it in a pot, not a pan, and then you cook it!”

My dad and I thought that was about the funniest thing ever, until my dad accidentally used confectioners’ sugar and burned it and then had to start all over again, but by that time my mom was home and she made the simple syrup WITHOUT MEASURING ANYTHING, which basically meant that my niece was totally RIGHT—she had SEEN my mom put a certain amount of sugar and her own amount of water in a pot, not a pan, and then cook it.

My sister (not, incidentally, this 9 year old niece’s mom) is one of those people who only ever wants cookbooks for her birthday and Christmas and spends hours in the kitchen trying and perfecting recipes. She’ll make things like homemade pot pie with homemade crust, or chicken tikka masala, or steak with twice baked potatoes and it’s all deliciously intimidating. “This recipe is so EASY,” she’ll say, zesting an orange while simultaneously stoving something and ovening something else.

I don’t like reading recipes or following recipes, or doing anything that involves more than about six steps, so I much prefer instructions like my niece’s simple syrup.

I’m not good at cooking. And I don’t like to cook. I don’t know why. I just DON’T.

Actually, I think it might go back to my feelings of inadequacy from this post. I guess… I kind of subconsciously (semi-consciously?) feel like if I don’t cook well and often enough, that I’m not doing it right and I just shouldn’t even bother. And it’s this sort of thinking that has resulted in 31 year old me to subsist primarily on buttered noodles, snacks, takeout, and an eclectic combination of whatever my current tastes are.

There was the tortilla soup phase. And the lentils with quinoa phase. The Israeli cous cous phase. And every once in awhile I get re-jazzed about getting farm fresh fruits and veggies delivered to my apartment and I’ll sign up again. For the first few boxes I’ll be all LOOK AT ME AND MY EGGPLANT HASH and OH NO BIG DEAL I’M JUST SAUTEEING SOME KALE LIKE A MFING BOSS. And then eventually I won’t cook it all up on the first day it arrives and I’ll have rhubarb and leeks spoiling in my fridge and the emotional weight of a thousand rotten dandelion greens on my shoulders.

I don’t have a solution. At work I sort of graze all day long- cheese, sliced meats, cut up veggies and dip, crackers, nuts. I also have recently decided not to let myself be hemmed in by this ‘time of day’ nonsense, because really who cares if I eat my leftover enchiladas at 10AM and then have a waffle for dinner? Nobody, that’s who. So leftovers or a bagel or nothing for breakfast, then grazing grazing grazing, and then something breakfasty (a waffle or eggs), buttered noodles, or takeout/snacks for dinner. Geez. When I write it out like that it looks terrible. But! Did I tell you I’ve cut back on soda on weekdays?

I’ve lived by myself for about 5 years now, so the majority of the food I prepare is just for me. And me doesn’t care whether I have a wholesome, made-with-love dinner or a glass of milk and a veggie roll sushi from the corner store. I just… I don’t want to go to all the trouble of making some big dinner if it dirties every pan in my home and the person eating it (me) doesn’t sufficiently appreciate it.

I would LIKE to have a couple of go-to recipes. Sometimes I do come home from work and I have nothing prepared and I’m out of eggs and milk and I don’t feel like eating noodles, so then I just have whatever I can scrounge up from my cupboards and it ends up being fairly pathetic. And what if, someday, it’s not just me eating the food I produce? I don’t envision myself becoming some domestic goddess or even a cooks-for-pleasure type person like my sister, because I’m just not going to. And if put to the task I CAN make food. I mean, I know how to put meats and vegetables into my oven and have them come out decently-tasting, and I can make my sister’s tortilla soup which is just this side of heaven, but I guess what I’m looking for is food that I can make easily and with only a couple of steps that will have the end result of looking something like a whole MEAL. Someone who can roast a chicken might roast that chicken and then make some rice vegetables to go with it. And I CAN do that, but it takes so LONG and it dirties so many DISHES and it’s just ME eating that it ends up feeling like too many steps and ugh, I’ll just have a waffle again.

Last week I made some pasta I like.

I don’t want to jinx it or get ahead of myself here, but I think, I THINK I have come up with something I might actually put into the rotation of Things I Cook, and actually keep it there.

Here’s whatcha do. I’m not including pictures because nobody really cares, right? Okay, so. Step 1. Buy some noodles and some red sauce and some alfredo sauce. The alfredo sauce should come in a smaller jar than the red sauce. Step 2. Cook the noodles (in a pot, not a pan). Step 3. Heat up the sauces both together. Step 4. Drain the noodles, pour some olive oil and the sauce mixture over the noodles. DONE. Delicious. Step 5. Duplicate and elaborate. No big deal but I totally added mushrooms and red peppers to the batch I made the other day and I FEEL like I could branch out to adding more veggies and also, say, chicken. It doesn’t so much change my day to day life (leftovers for breakfast, grazing grazing grazing, whatever for dinner), but it IS a food that I could prepare for another human person and they could eat it and be full and it doesn’t include any traditional breakfast foods or takeout or microwaving.  So here we are. I am 31 and I can now make a slightly more interesting pasta than plain buttered noodles, with the skill and instruction level of a 9 year old. PAT ON THE BACK FOR ME.

Target Practice

Things I like about the new Target betwixt my work and home:
- There is a new Target on my way home from work
- It's NEW and it's TARGET and it's equidistant from my work and my home
- I could stop at Target on my way home from work
- I've been there twice now and both times they handed out $10 coupons at the register
- Tonight I bought a gift bag, which I hate buying. But it was only $1.43. (Did you know how expensive gift bags can be? The full priced ones of the same size as the one I bought were in the SIX DOLLAR range. For a thing that's meant to be the outer shell of a present!)
- Free parking
- I stopped at Target on my way home from work

Things I did not like about tonight's experience at the new Target betwixt my work and home:
- The guy in the Lady Items aisle where his girlfriend was trying to pick out the thing she needed and he was making fun of her and LAUGHING AT HER for being so picky and spending more money on the brand she liked. Oh, you think it's all a big joke, do ya, homeboy? You think it's silly for women to have PREFERENCES about those type of things that go in that very intimate, specific area? Oh, they all look the same to you, do they? I guess you'd know ALL ABOUT EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THIS, wouldn't you? Asshat. (Perhaps I was also so irritated with him for the very same reason I was in that aisle to begin with.)
- Falling up the stairs on the way to my car.
- The couple blocking the entire stairwell right after I fell and picked myself up. I thought they were making out at first (which I actually wouldn't have minded because, yeah, go for it) but it turned out that she was just shielding his face from the wind as he lit his cigarette. DO THAT ON YOUR OWN TIME, JERKS.
- The fact that other people seem to shop in this Target as well.

Whatever, I don't even care. There's a new Target! On my way home from work! My commute just got waaayyy better. But if this space isn't for me to air my grievances then what is it, really?

Birthday Scavenger Hunt

So. I'm turning thirty. In one month precisely. And I get that whole thing where people aren't supposed to care because what's the big deal? It's supposed to be one of those things that Society makes people feel like is this Important Milestone but in actual fact no one bats an eye because tra la la my life is just so fabulous; I'm too busy being me to stop and worry about what age I am!
Baloney, says I.
I've written this before: I thought I would be married in my early twenties. I was CERTAIN I would have kids by now. And I don't. And that makes me sad. I don't have the major things I wanted to have before I was thirty. And now thirty is within spitting distance. And that sucks.
I'm happy, generally. I have a terrific family, lovely friends, a great job, and a nice home. But I'm starting to feel like the Universe is playing some kind of prank on me because, I'm not even exaggerating, my last two dates were as follows:
- A guy I went out with twice who drunk dialed me, texted me seven times to explain the drunk dialing, and then, when I sent him a gentle 'hey this isn't going to work, I think you might be a little intense for me' text, texted me twenty five more times AND insisted we speak on the phone so that he could explain to me FOR AN HOUR that he was NOT, in fact, intense.
- A guy who brought me a painting and then asked me to shave his back.
Seriously, Universe. You're just fucking with me now, aren't you?

ANYHOW. My point! I shall make it. And it will tie in with the title of this post.
Basically, I was thinking about my life list the other day and how having those little accomplishments on a tidy list is nice and how it is a nice list of things I want to do. But it also kind of makes me feel kind of meh to have a big list of goals that I'm nowhere near to finishing and what if I DON'T do something on the list and I miss the opportunity and it's gone forever and GAH it's on my LIST and it's so STRINGENT and whatever shall I do? So I've decided that a better term for my list is a Life Scavenger Hunt. Because if I find the opportunity to cross the things off, great! If I don't? No big. If I want to substitute an item for another something because that's what feels more right in that moment? Works for me. And if I reinterpret something I have listed in order to fit in a fun, noteworthy experience? Still counts!
I think this is more appropriate. That list has remained essentially unchanged since the day I wrote it, two years ago. And now that I'm feeling cranky and aged, it's high time I changed the rules to accommodate myself and my crank and my age.
IN THAT VEIN, I hereby propose a thirty item list of things I would like to do before my thirtieth birthday. I'm turning thirty, and BY GOD I'm going to force a celebration out of it.
So here is my Celebratory Thirtieth Birthday Scavenger Hunt. You'll notice that it is chock full of rather small, attainable goals, meant to remind me to live like this whole month is be a celebration, even though I might want to draw the curtains and have a nice long weep about how I'm not achieving the things I really WANT and slouching toward my eventual grave, because I WILL squeeze some good feelings out of this birthday, so help me.
Birthday Scavenger Hunt
1. eat at Palapas
2. eat at Hector's
3. eat at Zabu Zabu
4. go to Target
5. go for a drive with my dad
6. flea market
7. see a movie
8. drink a glass bottle Pepsi
9. roller skate
10. go in a hot tub
11. get a haircut
12. get a pedicure
13. give away a bag of stuff to Goodwill
14. hangover Panda Express
15. eat a mall pretzel
16. read a book
17. go out on the town with my ladies
18. hold my baby niece
19. use my new hair ribbons
20. make plans to have my older nieces come visit me
21. make plans to visit my sisters
22. make plans to visit D in Oregon.
23. make plans to go to at least one USC football game this year
24. cross off an item from my Life Scavenger Hunt
25. run on the treadmill
26. make candied maple walnuts and bring them into work
27. wear one of my new rings
28. blog
29. go on a nice long walk
30. lounge
*Items may be substituted at any time, without notice.

Let the scavenge begin.

The Lie of Omission

I hate lying. Well, more specifically, I hate being lied to. I hate it when lies affect my life. I hesitate to choose one particular form of lying over another as my most abhorred, but if I were forced to pick I would probably say The Lie of Omission.

One of the biggest fights KC and I got into before we broke up was an epic battle over him wanting to hang out with his ex girlfriend. I actually wrote a sulky, emo post about it at the time. Ugh. Makes me queasy just rereading it. I remember how hurt and upset I was, and also how confused and embarrassed I felt because I just couldn't figure out WHY I had such a huge problem with it. KC was discussing it with me before he hung out with her, so what the hell was my deal? Like most of my emotional issues, I assumed it had something to do with my Crazy Ex. After you're with someone like that train wreck into crazytown, I think it can be particularly difficult to distinguish what are actual Valid Concerns and what is related to having PTSD from dating an emotionally abusive sociopath.

I was uncomfortable with the idea of KC spending time with his ex girlfriend. I tried to talk to him about it, and he got angry and accused me of not trusting him. Then he revealed that while she was in town, his ex girlfriend and had an "extra ticket" to a show on Saturday night and wanted him to go with her. And, by the way, he had been talking to her on the phone regularly and hadn't told me because he knew it was upset me.

And then I was like woah woah pump yo brakes, dude. Because THAT RIGHT THERE is exactly why I HATE HATE HATE The Lie of Omission. He didn't bring up the fact that he was doing something that would upset me because... he knew it would upset me. Here I was, puttering along, thinking we had an open, honest relationship, and KC was actively keeping something from me-- something that he thought would upset me. Whether or not the thing being kept from me WOULD HAVE upset me becomes irrelevant at this point, because I will always always ALWAYS be seventy six GABILLION more times upset when I discover that I was lied to about something and then found out the truth later.

KC's response? "Well, you never asked."

Which brings me to my point, four hundred words in: The Lie of Omission is a sneaky, manipulative lie.

The Lie of Omission turns the tables and makes you feel like it was somehow YOUR fault for not asking the SPECIFIC QUESTION that would bring it to light. The burden of truth is shifted to the LIEE instead of the LIAR. Apparently it was MY responsibility to ASK KC, "Hey, any chance you've been chatting with your ex girlfriend recently?" I CALL SHENANIGANS.

I'm going to be thirty this year, and it has taken me THIS LONG to pinpoint exactly what bothers me about The Lie of Omission. And yet I have been omission lied to for so many BIG DEALS, that now I have a categorically insane list of questions I feel like I have to ask any guy I date:
Are you married?
Have you ever been married?
Do you have a girlfriend?
Do you have a job?
Are you homeless?
Do you have any kids?
Is there a lady out there currently pregnant with your child?

Most guys look at me pretty strangely when I come out straight out gate with that litany of queries. But trust me, it wouldn't be on my list IF IT HAD NOT HAPPENED.

I dated my Crazy Ex for a FULL MONTH before he told me he had a two year old child. I didn't find out that he was married (and cheating on his wife) when we first met until after we broke up (and they were divorced).
I had another dude tell me he didn't have any kids, and two weeks later I found out that he had a pregnant ex girlfriend.
His excuse? "Well, you didn't ask."

And this past weekend, apparently I made another grievous error. I went out to a club with my lovely lady friends, we ended up joining in with some gentlemen there for a dude's bachelor party. There was one guy in particular who spent the entire evening flirting with me, dancing with me, and generally being rather touchy-feely. At the end of the night, he said "Yeah, sorry you got the wrong impression, but I'm engaged." Not sorry IF you got the wrong impression, sorry YOU GOT the wrong impression. Burden of truth: SHIFTED TO ME. Silly little woman, you thought the dude trying to rub his body all over you was available? Tsk tsk.

I told the dude "Hey, if you're engaged, you might not want to grind up on girls at the club. Just an idea [sarcastic jazz hands]. Also, I feel kind of sorry for your fiance." And then I tossed my hair and got the hell out of there before I burst into furious tears. I felt embarrassed and angry and like I had made a huge error in judgment. But then my friends assured me that, no, our flirtation WAS NOT all in my head. I had witnesses to the fact that he had been CLEARLY pursuing me and chatting me up. AND, I remembered later, when the DJ said "All the single people put ya hands up!" HE PUT HIS HANDS UP.

But his douchey "Sorry you got the wrong impression" comment had made me feel like it was somehow MY FAULT that I didn't know he was engaged. Because The Lie of Omission is sneaky and manipulative.

Are you engaged? has now been added to my list of questions. Because I don't care how ridiculous I'm going to appear as long as it means that I have some defense against The Lie of Omission. There won't be another "Well, you didn't ask" situation if I can help it. So help me, I WILL ASK.
Because the best defense against manipulative douchebaggery? Being one step ahead of the douchebags.

Jaded Contingency Plan CDP

Awhile back, a loverly person sent me a Crappy Day Package. She told me it was to be opened on a VERY CRAPPY occasion, that I shouldn't even open the box unless I was feeling spectacularly crappy. So I held onto the box for weeks, using it as kind of a litmus test. I would ask myself: Is today crappy? Yes. But is it crappy ENOUGH for the big CDP? Maybe not.
And so the box stayed under my desk. It was nice to know I had it around, just in case I had an exceptionally crappy day. Kind of like a security blanket.

You know what's better than a security blanket? An ACTUAL blanket.

A bright, beautiful, cozy, cuddly SNUGGLE BLANKET.

I opened the box today, right after I got home from dinner. It was so worth the wait.

I went to dinner tonight with a group of gals from my school program. They are all really nice people. Lovely, really. But tonight, I left the group feeling... well, crappy. Because although I know I shouldn't compare my life to anyone else's and although I generally feel good about myself and happy with my life, being with that particular group of people brought me down a little bit. All of those gals passed their Giant Paper Things on the first try, graduated on time, took their board exams, and most of them have jobs already or are at least living settled-ish lives. Me? I spent 2011 learning that when you ASSUME, you make an ass out of yourself in front of the entire internet. I assumed I would pass my Giant Paper Thing on the first try, and ha ha ha that didn't happen. I assumed I would graduate in June and surprise! Nope. I assumed that I would take my board exam and I would have a job at least by December or January, and sigh, no. Not yet.

(Have I mentioned that I am taking my board exam in February? I'm parenthesizing this because I feel like the Universe has been doing a bit of excessive smiting of me recently, so I'm trying to fly under the radar here. I am certainly studying my ass off and hoping that I pass the exam on the first time, but no need to smite me for being cocky, Universe, for I know now not to just EXPECT that I will pass. After I finished Giant Paper Thing v 2.0, I was cautiously optimistic-- BUT I had a contingency plan in case I did not pass the second time. So. If I don't pass my board exam the first time, well I guess I'll find out when I can take it again, study even harder, and take it again. Maybe I'll have to look for a non-NP job while I study, or even move back in with my parents, but the point here is that my life will go on and things will be okay, even if they're not exactly as I planned. Planning, it seems, is what leads me to make an assume out of myself.)

Also at dinner tonight was the necessary telling of the breakup story, since most of these gals had not seen me since 'graduation' in June. So I told them about my breakup, and about how I've been on so many bad dates recently that it's like a douchebag convention. I don't know why I didn't anticipate it, but this led to the inevitable "Oh don't be cynical, you'll find him!" and "You've got plenty of time!" and "You should just concentrate on yourself for now" comments. I love these ladies-- they are all really nice and smart and whatnot and I know their hearts were in the right place, but if there is one thing I hate it is BEING TOLD HOW TO FEEL ABOUT SOMETHING. I would like to just be allowed to feel how I feel and have that be okay. I don't need anyone to try to fix it, and I ESPECIALLY don't need anyone telling me that the way I feel is wrong.
"Maybe you shouldn't be looking so hard for someone right now." I'm not desperately searching for Mr. Right at this precise moment. Right now I'm playing the field. If I meet someone amazing, great. If I don't, that's fine. I've been a little disheartened recently by the dating pool as it seems to be overwrought with asshats, but I tell those stories because I think they are funny and entertaining, not because I need you to tell me "Just stop looking and it'll happen!"
And the kicker is that I didn't even think I sounded that emo or cynical when I talked about that stuff. Maybe it is because this group of people didn't see me when I was heartbroken, sad, and angry, so they interpret Contingency Plan Julia as jaded and woeful. I feel like I'm being smart. The last thing that I want is to be waiting around to meet someone until it's too late for me to biologically have babies. I'm not saying that I have some deadline in mind, but I'm realizing that it is possible that I won't get married and I'll be damned if that means I'm giving up on my dream of having children. If finding a dude who I can stand and who wants the same things as me doesn't pan out, well then maybe I'll have to go a different direction-- maybe once I've worked for a couple of years I'll have babies by myself or maybe I'll become a foster or adoptive mom. That's not a defeatist attitude, it's realistic. But apparently it comes across as cynical and give-uppy when coupled with a breakup story, several anecdotes about douchey guys, AND a currently not-yet-employed status.

Bah. Whatever. Maybe I am jaded. But I do have a new blankie that makes me feel nice and warm in my hollow tin chest.

I give up.

There are no good guys.
There are just no good guys left. Are there? I would like to be proven wrong here, but it is definitely starting to seem like THERE REALLY ARE NO GOOD GUYS OMG.


On my online dating profile there is a section where you are supposed to write about the first things people notice about you. I wrote: "My hair, my tattoo, my wild hand gestures, my long-winded stories. My sparkling personality? I'm not going to put the thing most people REALLY notice about me on here, but if you meet me you'll know."
I'm assuming that most of you, dear readers, know what that last sentence refers to?
Anyhow, I met up with a guy a couple weeks ago and halfway through our beers he asked me about it.

Guy: So, what's the thing that people notice about you?

Me: You can't guess?

Guy: I don't know... it's not your tattoo, right? Because you mentioned that.

Me: No, not my tattoo.

Guy: Is it your nose? Your nose is kind of weird. It's your nose, isn't it?

Me: o_O


I met another boy a few weeks ago. He seemed nice, whatever. We hung out a few times... and then I mentioned something about how I would break up with a guy if he cheated on me. And then this boy gave me a speech about how cheating isn't THAT big of a deal because everybody cheats, even good guys, and KC probably cheated on me because guys usually do and a guy wouldn't give up a relationship unless there is someone else he wants, and I just don't understand because I don't have any kids (neither does he, by the way), but when you HAVE kids you realize that you have to work things out for the sake of the family, so when someone cheats then you forgive them. *pat pat on my head*
Me: O_o


And then there was last night. I went to see the Nutcracker with my friend's boyfriend's neighbor. I don't know him very well, and neither does my friend, nor her boyfriend. But we have all hung out in group settings before and I just assumed he was, y'know, NORMAL. I did NOT think he would abandon me on the street corner in an unfamiliar area of the Tenderloin. BUT THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED.
Here's what went down: One of the times the group of us all hung out, dude said he wanted to see the Nutcracker. I offered to go with him, if he was looking for someone with whom to go. So then last weekend he texted me and said he was buying the tickets for Friday (last night). I told him that I had an interview in Dublin at 4pm and I would hopefully be back in time, and I asked how much my ticket was. He said not to worry about it.
I ended up leaving Dublin at 5:30 so it took me two full hours to get home. I changed, grabbed a taxi, and made it to the theater at intermission. Dude was standing at the stairs with a glass of champagne for me. I was feeling cranky and bummed that I had missed the first half of the show, not to mention starving since I hadn't eaten much all day (too nervous because of the interview). But I drank my champagne and started to feel better. We watched the second half of the show (which was amazing, by the way) and then afterward dude asked me if I was hungry. Yes, I definitely was. He suggested a fancyish restaurant. I said we could just go to Mel's because I was really craving a grilled cheese sandwich. He said okay and we started to walk. After a block or so he said he really wanted to go to the fancy place. I said that was fine, let's go. So we walked... and walked and walked. We got to the restaurant and it was packed. So dude said we would go somewhere else and we started walking again. The following is a transcription of our conversation as we walked.

Him: I went to a new bar in my neighborhood called [something about a goat, I can't remember the name]. I just thought that was the stupidest name, ever. Like, why would you open a new bar and name it that?

Me: Because it's funny? I dunno. I think it sounds funny. Goats are funny.

Him: There's this other bar, I think it's near Eleventh and Folsom-

Me [laughing]: Is it the Holy Cow?

Him: Ugh. No. I hate that place.

Me: Whaaat? You can't hate that place! It's a dive club!

Him: People dance on tables there. I tend to avoid places like that.

Me: Oh.

We walk for awhile in silence.

Me [noticing that we are passing restaurants left and right]: Um. Where are we going?

Him: Well, if you want to go to any of these places we can, but I want to find this one.... [looking at phone].

Me: Okay.

We keep walking.

Him: Oh, here it is. Right up there.

Another block.

Me: Um. Where is this place?

Him: What? Are you getting annoyed?

Me: Well, no. But I mean, I don't want to walk forever. Where is this place?

Him: Right up there [gestures vaguely ahead].

More walking. (And let me explain here-- I don't usually MIND walking. I enjoy it, even. But tonight I was wearing fancy boots and a fancy outfit and I also just kind of wanted to pick a place and get some damn food.)

Me: Sooo, um, IS it right up there?

Him: Yeah.

Me [laughing]: Okay! Well NOW I'm annoyed!

Him: You know what? [stops walking, turns to face me, gives me a fake smile, grabs my hand, and shakes it].

Me: Wha?

Him: I'm just getting a really bad vibe from you.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-

Him: I was really happy.

Me: And I'm bringing you down? I'm sorry, I just-

Him: [turns and walks away]

Me: [look around, realize I'm in an unfamiliar section of the Tenderloin and I don't know how to get out]

Me: O_O



I give up. There are no good guys.

Whateverishly

Everything's basically super awesome over here, she says, deadpan and sarcastic. The job hunt is progressing nice and whateverishly (thank you, David Sedaris, for that word). I'm still having my ups and downs about being freshly, stingingly, single. But I'm tired of talking about my feelings about the breakup on here, so let's just slide on past that.

Last week was pretty good. On Sunday, my mom and I went to the antiques faire and she bought me a super awesome Christmas present, which I will reveal after I open it at Christmas (yes, I insisted that it be wrapped and placed under the tree, even though I know what it is. What of it?). I bought some cute little glass animal figurines for my niece's birthday. On Tuesday, I flew out to visit my sister, ostensibly to hunt for a job in her 'hood. But then I came down with a nasty cold so I spent much of the week walking around in a nice little cough syrup haze and being treated to lunches by my sister. Now I'm back in SF, enduring a much harsher reality and having to make my own lunches.


---

Have I mentioned that I'm taking a hospice volunteering class? Well, I am. And the day after my breakup I had one of said classes. We had to do this grief experiencing exercise where you write down on notecards everything and everyone that you love in this world and then slowly have them taken away from you. Because THIS IS MY LIFE.

---

Two of my close friends have moved away, I no longer have a boyfriend, one friend is moving soon, and I don't have school anymore so I don't see those people as often. My social life has taken quite a hit. I'm trying, somewhat, to rebuild it, but it is slow going. I tend to collect one friend at a time and hate everyone else, so it's not as if I have a big group of people and dozens of sparkly parties to swan about in.
I have wonderful friends and family members, but they don't all live nearby and right now it would be nice to see everybody more often.

---

Traveling last week was pretty ridiculous. I managed to get on a plane that wouldn't fly, get a ticket for a train that didn't show up, and ride a bus with wet seats and lecherous men.

---

Let's end on a good note, shall we? Today I went to the grocery store and they were selling those pre-bagged containers of food so you could just pay ten bucks and then donate that bag of food to the local food bank. I did that, and then I stopped by Walgreens to buy some more toys for the tots. And then I made tortilla soup, and THEN I signed up to help on a research project (a PAYING (part time, short term) job). I also bought a pomegranate today which is delicious, if challenging, to eat.

Angry

Okay! So! Last week I was sad. Weeping, whimpering, and S-A-D sad. I still loved him, still wanted him back, still thought he was the most wonderful and amazing guy ever. I couldn't believe how suddenly he was gone, after being in my arms only days earlier. I'm still sad, of course, still bursting into tears at random intervals. And, yes, still reeling.
But now I am also angry.

I'm angry at myself for not being good enough and for picking the wrong guy, YET AGAIN.  I'm also angry at myself because I am such a damn mess right now and this affects me so much and I wish the hurting would stop. I'm angry because here I am 29 and single, which is so not how I wanted my life to be. I'm angry at the situation because why couldn't it have just worked out? And because for fuck's sake can't anything ever go right? OCTOBER IS FIRED. Actually, no, 2011 is fired. Clear out your desk, 2011. I've had enough of you. I'm angry that this happened and that I also don't have a job, am uninsurable, and have one CD to my name because my damn car keeps getting broken into. I'm angry at my apartment for reminding me of him. I'm angry at my phone for being stupid and lame and for not ringing and also for ringing.

Mostly, though, I'm angry at KC.
I'm furious that he broke my heart. I keep thinking in cliches like HOW DARE YOU? and WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?
I'm angry that he hasn't tried to contact me (even though I know that's probably for the best), because it feels like I was easily flung aside and he's just *poof* moved on with his life. A couple people have suggested that maybe he's not contacting me because he knows that would make this harder on me. Well, thinking of him as all calm and rational, trying to 'do what's best' for me ALSO MAKES ME ANGRY.
I'm angry that he had been thinking about breaking up with me apparently for a month (or longer?) while I was in the dark. I am enraged at his timing.
I'm angry because I don't know what happened-- what changed? I had thought he and I loved each other and wanted the same things in life but, no, ha ha, surprise! Now he wants something totally different! Or else he wants those same things, just not with me. What the fuck ever. Make up your mind and grow up.
I'm angry because I loved him and I trusted him, and now I feel betrayed.
I feel stupid and used and misled and weak and sad and ANGRY ANGRY ANGRY.

This week sucks. Tell me a story?

Oh man. What an awful day. But I guess that's about on par with my week.
After another moderately sleepless night I arrived at 7:30 at an office building downtown to spend the day performing health screenings. (A lot of companies will book screenings or flu clinics or health fairs for their employees through healthcare agencies-- the company tells the agency what sort of even they want and the agency will send the equipment and personnel. I've worked for two years doing this sort of thing. It's convenient because you can be on the schedule as much or as little as you'd like. The pay is kind of crappy, though, and there's no guarantee you'll get as many hours as you'd like.)
Anyhow, my assignment today was terrible. The agency sent the wrong kind of lancets for pricking fingers so it was really difficult to get the right amount of blood so that the screening test would, you know, WORK. And all of the components of the machine I was using were tiny and delicate and hard to see and easy to drop.
Plus, the woman who was supervising me was condescending and awful and acted like everything I did I was a huge inconvenience to her. When I asked her for hand sanitizer she tried to tell me I didn't need it, and then huffed and sighed at me when I pointed out I would be working with blood so, yeah, I think I actually do need it. She brought me some, along with an eyeroll.
And I felt like bursting into tears. Or going home. Or both.

This sucks. Everything sucks. I hate everything. BAH HUMBUG.


Have you ever had your heart broken? Tell me about it?

Perceptions

When I am confused I make this face.

Annnnd I just figured out why people think I'm angry when I'm actually confused. Squinty angry eyes and mouth set in a WHAT BITCH line. But, no. Confused. This is the face of someone actively trying to understand what is going on, what someone said, or what something means. The wheels are turning when this face is on.

I have examples! Three, in fact. They are kind of random in that they are three very different events separated by long periods of time. I don't want you to think that these are the ONLY times I've made my confused face within the past year. No no, I make my confused face on a regular basis-- it is squarely in the rotation of frequent facial expressions. These are just examples of times I've been particularly perplexed by a stranger's apparent perception of me. You'll see what I mean....

1. A year or so ago I was hanging out at the beach with my sister and her family. One of my sister's friends showed up with her own family. My sister introduced us. Her friend said "Oh, oh you're [my sister]'s sister with the tattoos." The italics in that sentence make it look like maybe I'm exaggerating but, really, she did say it like that. Like, OH I've heard about THIS one. And I was confused. Because what... does that mean? I'm her sister with the tattoos, am I? Not her sister with the giant cat? Her sister with the master's degree? Her sister who is tall and has brown hair? Her sister in nursing school? I am defined solely by my tattoos and all that they imply (WHICH IS WHAT EXACTLY?).
Confused face.

2. About a month ago I was at the county fair with Jenny and Gabriel, wandering around that area with booths representing local businesses that were giving away information packets and freebies like pens and stress balls. Gabey wanted to play this spin-the-wheel game at one of the booths. He won a pen. Jenny also won a pen. I won a pencil sharpener. The guy running the booth told me I could trade for something else if I wanted, "Because you don't seem like a girl who uses a lot of pencils." Jenny said he was probably trying to flirt with me but... what the? What was his angle? I don't seem like a girl who uses a lot of pencils because I'm stupid? Because I'm too pretty to do math? Because I'm that confident in my writing that I go straight to pens LIKE A BOSS?
Confused face.

3. A couple days ago was my first day volunteering at a clinic. I shadowed one of the nurses and learned how to triage and discharge the patients. At the end of the shift the woman in charge was introducing me to some of the other volunteers who had arrived after I had already started working. One of the NPs asked me a bunch of questions like where I had gone to school, when I finished, and what my specialty was. Then she asked if I had done the M3PN program and I said that I had. "Oh yeah," she said. "You seem like someone who hasn't worked as an RN before."
Confused. Face.
I seem like someone who hasn't worked as an RN before? WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? And how did I seem like that in the four minutes this woman saw me? Because I was following another nurse around and asking where things were? Because I looked somewhat lost and confused? IT WAS MY FIRST DAY.
How is one supposed to interpret a comment like that? I AM someone who hasn't worked as an RN in a clinic setting before, but would I be carrying myself any differently if I HAD? I keep trying to spin it like she was giving me a compliment. Like maybe I looked out of place in my business casual clothes when most of the other nurses were wearing scrubs or jeans...? I wish I could go back to that moment and ask "What do you mean?" when she made that comment, instead of what I actually did which was say "Okayyy...," make my confused face, and then obsess about it for two days.


Purely for your reference, here is my actual angry face:

Robbed

On Friday my car got broken into for the second time this year, because why not?
The last time was in February so I am starting to feel like an old pro at this. I drove straight to the auto glass place and they had the window fixed in a couple of hours. They also kindly piled up the items that were strewn about my car's interior (mostly maps and papers from the glove box) and vacuumed up the broken glass. They also gave me a deal for being a repeat customer. The only real downside of this place is the fact that my old windows were tinted and these guys don't do tinting so now my car is starting to look like an odd patchwork of windows.

Despite the quick fix, this sucks and I'm annoyed, particularly since my car was JUST robbed in February. These robbers got all the stuff that the others left behind-- a bag of clothes, my phone charger, my tire iron, the REST of my CDs, and my Important Things basket. They also took some things that I had just bought but hadn't carried into my apartment yet-- some sodas, kitty litter, and toilet paper. I had thought there was nothing of value left in my car after the last time but now there REALLY isn't. These thieves have been thorough. They yanked out my change drawer and moved the seats around, presumably checking for hidden valuables. They grabbed a box from the front seat and threw it in the trunk, probably after realizing it held nothing but scrap glass (for crafting). It is creepy to think about a stranger being in my car, going through my stuff, and taking what they think is valuable. Jerks.


On the plus side they overlooked my sun shade, my picnic blanket, and my flip flops.

Also? THEY LEFT ME A PRESENT.

That? Is a Wild Turkey glove. I don't know if it was an accident or some kind of insult because you'll notice that the middle finger is cleverly marked "Give 'em the Bird." Were the thieves sloppy? Or are they flipping me off?
Either way, joke's on them because all I've got to do now is find the person with the OTHER GLOVE.
Hello, my name is Superjules. You stole my Important Things Basket. Prepare to die.

Paper Plates & Siblings

Today, I have found myself going in obsessive thought-loops about paper plates. A few things you should know:

1. I dislike paper plates. And styrofoam plates. And those flimsy plastic meant-to-be-used-once-and-thrown-away plates. And cups and bowls made out of those materials. Basically, I dislike single-use dishware of any sort. I find it wasteful.
1a. I understand that there are some cases in which convenience trumps environmentalism-- if you are hosting a child's birthday party at the park, I'm not going to scold you for not bringing your own sturdy plastic dishes and washing them at home later. I can be a reasonable person, however it may seem!
1b. I understand that it is not always my place to ask someone to change their lifestyle. If I don't know you very well and you offer me a drink in a plastic cup or I see you serving dinner on paper plates, I won't necessarily say anything OR judge you.

2. I WILL judge you if I see you using single-use dishware on a regular basis. My Crazy Ex's dad used, I shit you not, STYROFOAM plates as his everyday dishes. He had a pile of styrofoam plates in the cupboard, SITTING ON TOP of the regular dishes. To me this just represented EPIC laziness and whenever anyone used one I felt like crying. Or yelling at him that THIS is what is wrong with the world: when people use something and throw it away and it festers in the landfill for centuries but meh, who cares, it's easier than washing a dish and I'm just one person so it doesn't matter. It DOES matter, asshat.
2a. I understand that everyone can't do everything. Some people recycle. Some people use those fancy newfangled lightbulbs to save energy. And maybe these same people are hanging on to their high-flow shower heads and driving to work every day. Not everyone can do everything, but I think we should all do something. If you're the guy who doesn't recycle AND tosses cigarette butts in the street AND waters the lawn on rainy days AND uses throwaway dishes? A pox on you.

3. At my parents' house I have seen my sister consistently reaching for paper plates when she goes to offer her kids a meal. This bothers me. I understand that they are on vacation and that she is overworked and overwhelmed, but I guess it doesn't fall into one of the 'exception' categories for me. This feels less like items 1a or 1b and more like item 2: repeated, unnecessary use. We're not talking about using paper plates for a big party or an outing, just a regular dinner.
3a. I ask her to please not use paper plates; I offer to wash all the dishes myself. And she huffs at me and rolls her eyes and says things like "They're already BOUGHT, Julia" and tells her daughter to just not use a plate AT ALL.

It's an odd scenario, when someone you love does something that bothers you AND acts like you are purposely trying to inconvenience her by asking her not to. It's a situation I'm not sure how to handle, because she seems unable to hear me out and I also don't want to make a HUGE DEAL out of this when it needn't be one. The problem is that I'm bothered by the paper plate usage and ALSO by the antagonistic response I have been getting when I make what I feel is a reasonable request. It turns the situation into a Sibling Fight rather than just two humans who disagree about something attempting to compromise. And in a Sibling Fight I will ALWAYS be the little sister, the one with less life experience. I'm the one still in school, the one who doesn't have any kids, the one with big silly ideals that will vanish once I get out in the REAL world and see how hard it is. And since I know I'm perceived that way, it is unlikely I'll come out on top in any disagreement.
But I still think I'm right about the paper plates.

Not that it matters. But STILL.

The other day I hung out with a friend of mine from college who I hadn't seen in awhile, let's call her Chloe. We talked about this and that-- what we had been up to since we had last seen each other, what our mutual friends had been up to, etc. Being girls and all (not to sound sexist but come on), we eventually landed on the topic of boys. Now, this friend had knew me in college so she obviously knew my college boyfriend, let's call him Jerky.

So we talked about Jerky for a little bit. I told Chloe that it was funny, I had sincerely thought I Fixed him when I broke up with him. He was so sad and heartbroken about me deciding to finally, FINALLY, end that train wreck of a relationship that I thought he was Fixed. Jerky had learned: he wouldn't treat anybody else the way he had treated me, he would stop being such a douchebag, he would be nice to his girlfriend and commit to her instead of sending mixed messages and stringing her along, hell I halfway figured Jerky would marry the first girl he dated after me. But, no, it turned out that I hadn't Fixed him-- threeish years after our breakup he was still exactly the same, still acting shady and not being honest with his girlfriend.

Chloe said she wasn't surprised that Jerky was still acting like that. Then she asked me if I had heard from our other friend, let's call her Amanda. No, I said, I hadn't talked to her in a couple years.
And then Chloe told me that while I was dating Jerky he had hooked up with Amanda.

Oh, awesome.

I knew that Jerky was a shady dude. I didn't fully trust him while I was dating him, but I did believe him when he told me things. If you don't know this about me already: I DO NOT LIE. No, really. I don't lie. It is hard for me to pick up on people who are liars or fakes because I AM PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE of doing this. So, while I knew that something was amiss with Jerky, I never actually thought that he cheated on or lied to me.
 After I had broken up with Jerky and I learned a little bit more about this great wide world, I started thinking that he might have cheated on me during our relationship. The clues were there, you know? Didn't want to say I was his girlfriend + didn't want me to hang out with him and his friends + secretive of his phone and emails + weirdly suspicious of me and angry about me talking to any other dudes + told me I wasn't as pretty as I used to be. Oh, what? You thought I made up this stuff?

Anyhow, I thought that he had possibly cheated on me, but suspecting that and knowing FOR SURE are two different things. Thinking that Jerky possibly cheated on me with some random girl is also very different than knowing FOR SURE that he cheated on me WITH ONE OF MY FRIENDS.

I've tried to write this post several times over the last couple of days but I have been holding back because I'm not sure I'm getting across exactly what I want to say and I keep falling into being yelly and capslocky. I'm not dating Jerky anymore. Our relationship was done years ago and I'm with somebody else now (somebody great-- love you honey, don't ever cheat on me). So on the one hand I feel kind of indignant and mad, but on the other it seems like it shouldn't matter since none of this has anything to do with the current cast of characters in my life.

But, I mean, STILL.

I just don't understand cheating. I don't get it. Why do people do it? WHY? More specifically, why do people cheat and they carry on with their lives, LYING to their significant other? HOW DO THEY SLEEP AT NIGHT? I mean, besides the fact that they're so exhausted from carrying around the charade of their double life and the great burden of their many sins.

ALSO. Why have I gotten screwed over SO MANY TIMES BY SO MANY PEOPLE? I had thought that The Crazy Ex (hereafter known simply as Crazy) was miles and miles ahead of anybody else, in terms of horribleness. He was SO horrible he kind of made Jerky seem Not So Bad. When Crazy stalked me and stole my social security number, all of a sudden Jerky started to seem like one of those okay guys with whom it just didn't work out for one reason or another. But HA HA joke's on me! Jerky cheated on me with one of my friends.

Not that any of this matters now. But STILL.

The lying, you guys. The LYING. Why are some people such LYING LIARS WHO SIT ON A THRONE OF LIES?

Being lied to in a relationship makes you feel crazy. You feel confused and suspicious but also that it might all just be in your head but why won't he just talk to you instead of yelling and making you feel stupid? If I had a nickel for every time I should have listened to my gut feeling I would probably have enough cash to invent a machine called The Gut Feeling that would analyze the situation figure out the truth for you in an objective, fair manner. If you ever wonder why I might have Trust Issues it's because I have been right far too many times.

I broke up with Jerky after several years of dating. I was exhausted and drained from the relationship and I just didn't want to try anymore, not even one more time. And I also had a crush on another guy and tried to see him a little after Jerky and I broke up. You see how I did that? I waited until AFTER I had ended my relationship to start anything with somebody new.  I was in a relationship and I didn't want to be in it anymore SO I ENDED IT. Ta freakin da.
There were a gabillion and one legit reasons to break up with Jerky, but one of the reasons I did it was because I wanted to date somebody else. I didn't pussyfoot around and cheat and lie and go behind his back. No, I womanned the hell up and told him I was done with our relationship. Not that it matters! But STILL!
I don't usually get up on my high horse about things because, pshh whatever, we all do stupid things and everybody's got their own opinions and blah blah blarg. But when it comes to cheating I am very far up on my high horse. In fact, my horse is so high I'm just a DOT to you people. MY HORSE IS VERY VERY HIGH AND LYING IS BAD.

***
So, okay. Deep breath. Apparently not being yelly and capslocky was not in the cards.
The most important thing that I have to remind myself here is that this is all from long ago and that none of it pertains to my current situation. My life is good, I'm happy in my relationship, I've done a lot of healing from past hurts, etc. So that stuff from the past doesn't matter.
(But still.)

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

It really is beautiful today. But I'm CRANKY.

Allow me to explain. What's that? You didn't ask? Well TOO BAD. This is ALL I HAVE FOR YOU TODAY.

Ahem.

My apartment building is situated very near... well, let's just say it's near a collection of very popular, trendy restaurants. These restaurants tend to be pretty happening sometimes and there can be large crowds of people around. It makes me very glad that I have a parking space in my building's garage because otherwise I would be spending a lot more time cursing and hollering than I already do. There are several parking garages near my street so the area around my building tends to get rather congested with both pedestrian and automobile traffic. And leaving or coming back to my neighborhood at certain times of the day or having people over can be a little tricky. Basically the situation is kind of annoying but, whatever, it's fine.

About a year ago the city repainted my street so that the two lanes became one lane plus a bike lane. That was kind of annoying but, whatever, it's fine.

About six months ago the building down the street started a large construction project. That was kind of annoying but, whatever, it's fine.

About a week ago I received a notice that a mobile food company has applied for a permit to park a food truck right outside my building. And that will be kind of ann OH HELL NO, MOTHASUCKAS.

When I look out my window I see traffic and confusion and pedestrians jaywalking across a busy street and bicycles zooming between cars and cones blocking off parts of the sidewalk and big construction vehicles taking up parking spaces and parts of the street. My garage entrance often gets partially or completely blocked and oh oh guess what? The food truck wants to park right next to my garage entrance! Because who cares about the people trying to see if cars or bicycles are whizzing by when they are turning onto the street? {Sarcastic Jazz Hands}

Apparently there is going to be a hearing at the courthouse about the food truck. I will probably go and I think it will be hard to voice my concerns as anything but "I'm sorry, but how could you even THINK about adding another element to this clusterfuck? COME ON."

Really, if all of those other variables weren't already in place I would probably welcome the food truck (or at least, not feel such firey rage against it). Obviously if I could have PICKED I would have chosen a food truck over months and months of dusty, loud construction. But I didn't get to pick and those other things already exist so, I'm sorry Mr. Food Truck but my displaced anger is getting saddled squarely onto your shoulders. I don't care if you are delicious, YOU HAVE BAD TIMING.*

*I think I may have just found my new catchphrase.

Disjointed, Disheartened

Before today, if someone had asked me whether or not my moods control the weather, I would have denied it. I went to the school bookstore this afternoon, killing time before an appointment. I was looking at the sweatshirts when I happened upon the graduation regalia display. The empty cap and gown, standing there on its flattened wire replica of the human form. I stood for a moment in front of it, sighing, reaching out to touch the blue velvet sleeve with my fingertip. "Motherfuckers" I muttered to myself. Or, more accurately, to the gentleman I hadn't noticed was standing directly beside me. As I walked out of the bookstore, feeling generally droopy and sorry for myself, it began to rain. Not that I think myself so high and mighty that the very clouds change course in accordance with my sorrows, but these past few days have had coincidentally good weather for moping and brooding and imagining setting fire to various items in the office of my Giant Paper Thing's reader. Not that I would do either of those things for realsies-- neither inflict gloomy weather upon my fellow San Franciscans nor practice arson. Nope, not me.

***

Several people have told me about times when they failed something. Like the text message I received from a friend in a PhD program, "Did I ever tell you that my advisor failed me for some research units? I was sad/angry etc. But now everything is okay." Stories like that have unexpectedly helped me feel better because I don't feel so completely ALONE IN MY MISERY.
I THINK I am ready now to hear things like "It will be okay! You can do it!" but even when I wasn't, when all I wanted to do was whimper and feel sad, it did help to hear other people's stories of crappy experiences like this and their positive outcomes. Even though I couldn't yet imagine that MY situation would turn out okay, it was nice to hear that other peoples' did. It helped me imagine that there might be a time wherein I could imagine that everything might turn out okay.
This is how I cope with bad things-- I catastrophize. I wallow in pain and make lists in my head of all the terrible things that are happening and dwell on them and cry and feel generally woe-is-me about them. And then after a little while I start to feel better and am able to move forward.

***

Today I realized that one of the reasons that I've been SO devastated about this whole situation is because graduation meant more to me than just finishing school in general or this program specifically. It meant closing a chapter of my life and starting fresh, something I hadn't realized that I was looking forward to so much. Because these past three years have been... DIFFICULT.
The first year I was in an emotionally abusive relationship.
The second year I got out of that relationship and had to get a restraining order.
The third year I had to deal with emotional aftermath and PTSD related to the first two.

A lot of wonderful stuff happened in those years, too, of course. I don't want to make it seem like these years are framed in my mind ONLY by those events. But, I mean, they were tremendously difficult things to go through and they did coincide with school. I remember last year (the second year) when I was in the midst of being harassed and threatened and felt like I was teetering on the edge of sanity. I felt like I was very close to having some sort of breakdown. I remember I kept thinking "I can't do this. I CAN'T DO THIS." I had trouble paying attention, I cried in the bathroom and on the train, and I had to turn in some assignments late and leave a class early because I had a panic attack. But I did it. One friend helped me with my research and another helped me with my assessments and my professors gave me extensions and I DID IT. I made it through that year. And this year I felt like I just had to keep plugging along and I would graduate, nothing could stop me!

And now it feels like I was so close. I was SO CLOSE. But I just couldn't do it.
 

I have been trying to reframe this in my mind-- because this is a thing, right? A lot of people graduate from a program and then have one stupid thing left to finish over the summer or the next semester, right? People do that.
I can do it.
I guess.

***

I honestly don't even know where I am supposed to begin in terms of revising this paper to turn it in again. I haven't gotten all the comments back yet and I just recently took a look at the ones I have received. Some of them don't seem to make sense and some are so JERKY that I can't read anymore because either my eyes are either filled with tears or clouded over with PURE RAGE. I find myself yelling at the computer.

Plus! I had two readers who left comments. They both had very strong opinions.
For example:
Reader 1: "Great discussion of a cutting-edge theory."
Reader 2: "There was no theoretical framework presented."
Reader 1: "Significance poorly defined."
Reader 2: "Significance of the topic was presented well."

Um? OH GREAT! I'LL START THERE!