Things of No Importance

I spent this afternoon at the Anchor Brewing Company, which means that now seems like a GREAT time to share some random thoughts:

1. Remember when I told you about the shows I like to watch because I don't care about the characters? Well I USED to like watching 16 & Pregnant/Teen Mom for that same reason. But now it has become apparent that I actually CARE about Teen Mom 2's Leah. Which means that watching the show makes me a little nervous because all I want to see is her happy with her babies and in love and everything's great la la la!

2. My new People magazine had a story about the chick from all the Spy Kids movies, Alexa Vega. I squinched up my eyebrows and muttered "Alexa Vega... Alexa Vega..." for a few seconds before it hit me. Alexa Vega! From one of my VERY favorite movies of all time: Repo! The Genetic Opera. It may surprise you to know that one of my favorite movies is one from the horror/rock-opera genre given the information in Item 1, but I luuurve it. There wasn't any real point in bringing up the People magazine story, just that Alexa Vega exists and she's in a movie I really like. Oh! And she can sing, in case you were wondering that.

3. My new People magazine also says that Jesse James proposed to Kat Von D. Somewhere, I hope Sandra Bullock is LAUGHING HYSTERICALLY.

Little Fish

My dad used to call me Little Fish when I was a baby, swimming around in my mom's tummy, and when I was a little girl, swimming around in the ocean or a lake or a pool or anywhere because I just loved to swim. He used to say "Little Fish, Little Fish, fly away home!" I didn't know until MUCH later that the actual nursery rhyme is about a ladybug and woah, is it creepy.

My dad. He has always worked long hours, weekends, and holidays. Sometimes that meant celebrating Thanksgiving early or Christmas late and it often meant waiting to eat dinner until around 9 or 9:30 so that he could be there. Even after working 12-hour days my dad was never too tired to spend time with me or play with me or help me with my homework. On the weekends he would take me swimming or on bike rides or we would work in the garden.

"Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make this garden grow. Gonna plant these seeds, I know," he would sing.

My brother-in-law once told me that one of the reasons he first started liking my sister so much was because of how much she loved her dad. "Most people grow up and stop thinking of their dad as a hero," he said," but it seems like you guys still think your dad is the best guy in the world." He's right. We do. When I was just about thirteen years old my dad had a heart attack and was very sick, so we all know how lucky we are to have him around.

My dad. He writes poetry. He does magic for my nieces and nephews. He surfs every weekend and does triathlons with two of his friends (he's the swimmer). He plays the piano and the guitar and the banjo and the harmonica. He makes up words and often unconsciously makes sound effects for things he does (like if he's pouring something he'll say "glub glub glub"). He calls pancakes flapjacks and an umbrella a bumbershoot. Once, when I lived in LA and had to drive back down there after Christmas, my dad went with me at the last minute. He had to work the next day so I drove him straight to LAX where he caught a flight back home. He had wanted to go with me so I didn't have to drive by myself. When I was in high school he used to drive two hours to come watch my diving meets or my field hockey games (my school and his work were both an hour from our house, in the opposite direction of each other). He taught me to read when I was three by writing and illustrating a story about a dog. He taught me to make a long blade of grass into a lizard-catcher. He taught me to surf and to duck dive. He taught me to change a tire and to drive a stick shift car (although I'm still learning that one). Whenever he calls me on his cell phone he says "Hey Jules! I'm talkin' to ya cordless!"

I think my dad can be difficult to shop for. My mom is easy-- she likes flowers, knick knacks, aprons, scarves, bubble bath, etc. But my dad? He never wants anything. My sister usually buys him clothes, but I think clothes are hard to buy clothes for someone else. I could get him a tie since he wears one to work every day but he already has a lot of ties. Socks? Got him those for Christmas. A book? He has a million books.

So for my dad's birthday this year I decided to paint him a picture. I'm not much of an artist but I'm happy with how it came out. The canvas is small, only 5 x 7 inches.

I call it "Little Fish."

Potpourri

For someone who doesn't have cable I've certainly been managing to watch a few too many episodes of both Gossip Girl and The Secret Life of the American Teenager (hereafter referred to as Secret Life as that title is far too long). Actually, I don't have the attention span to sit down and watch shows, but I do like to have some noise in the background whilst I'm puttering around the house and washing dishes and such.
I find it interesting that these two shows have captured my attention because Gossip Girl is full of characters I CAN'T STAND and don't sympathize with and don't like ONE BIT (Why did you become such a tool, Dan? Why?) and don't care if bad things happen to them. But then Secret Life is full of characters that are likable and who I can sympathize with despite their poor choices and ... Oh wait. I figured it out. It's because I don't actually care about any of those characters either. Neither show has me INVESTED enough to care if something bad happens to their characters. In other words, neither show can HURT ME. Yes, that's what I said. Because I didn't think reading the Hunger Games series could hurt me even though it was violent and mind-boggling but oh ho ho, the author managed to kill off the ONE character I LOVED and so I read the rest of the book(s? [no spoilers here]) feeling wounded and mad. And I don't like to feel wounded or mad when I'm listening to TV and folding my laundry so that means I can't get too invested and I guess that solves the mystery of why I like both Gossip Girl and Secret Life. Glad that's settled. As you were.

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I was going through the photos on my phone yesterday and I found a couple that I thought I would share in sort of a randomly assorted kind of way.

I decided to take a shortcut through an alley a few months ago. I was just walking along, minding my own business. And then I came across THIS:

Of course. Why am I even surprised at the things I see on the streets of San Francisco, anymore? Coffin boxes. Rainbow-dyed dogs. A whole horde of people dressed as Santas. There are usually plenty of interestingly dressed people but my favorite by far was a man I saw just a couple weeks ago while walking down Polk Street. Amongst the flamboyantly dressed and leather clad citizens of the Tenderloin this man was delightfully understated, wearing jeans and a tee shirt with long hair and a handlebar mustache and just a hint of something extra-- a pair of long blue dangly earrings.

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I went to Chinatown awhile back and stood in front of this display for a rather long time.

I must have some sort of sensory issue because all I wanted to do was stand there and fondle those small objects. I particularly enjoyed picking up one and squeezing it in my hand. It was HIGHLY satisfying.

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Um. One of my chairs broke. Actually, only the seat split in half first. KC told me he could fix it. And then I tried to move it aside into the corner while I was doing something at the table and it ended up like THIS:

Apparently I do not know my own strength. Ha ha. Just kidding. The chair must have been held together with wishes and spit because anyone who has met me in real life knows my arm muscles are purely decorative.

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The other day I wanted to make my bed. Bowie was on the bed and would not move. So I made the bed with him in it.

Oh GOODNESS.

---

I have clinical tomorrow. My preceptor emailed me and said she'd prefer if I stayed the full 12 hours so we could debrief and plan out the rest of the quarter. Twelve hour shifts were the norm during my first year (the RN part of my program) but for the past year and a half we've switched to the kinder schedule of 6-8 hr days. And those days are intense enough, I'll tell ya what. I'm usually exhausted after them. Anyhow, most of my preceptors have not been on the 12 hr day schedules but this one is and she'd like me to stay that long. And so I will. But right now I'm sort of worrying about how on earth I'm going to cram enough snacks into my bag for tomorrow. For an 8 hour day's snacks and lunch I usually bring fruit strips, string cheese, a sandwich, an apple juice, crackers or pretzels, a granola bar, some berries, and a big bottle of water. So what am I supposed to add on there for a 12 hour day? Gah. Interesting how I really ought to be worrying about understanding EKGs and identifying heart sounds but no no here I am spending my time fretting about SNACKS.

Important Things Basket

This is one of those things that I'm going to have to file under the category of: Think of That Sooner, Why Didn't I?

Allow me to explain.

My mom asked me if I needed a basket and I told her I didn't think so. But then she showed me the basket and told me how useful baskets could be and offered to keep it for me just IN CASE I ever felt like I needed it. So then I put Bowie in the basket and carried him around for awhile and attempted to scare my parents' cat with the cat/basket combination. And I decided that maybe I did need the basket.

I put the basket in the front region of my car, between the two seats, wedged in so it wouldn't fall over.

And then I put my CD cases in the basket. And a box of tissues. And my emergency-boredom book. And my two audiobooks from the library. And my phone charger. And my sunscreen.

And then I wondered: HOW HAD I BEEN LIVING MY LIFE WITHOUT THIS BASKET? Actually, I'll tell you how. I was living my life without this basket by doing a lot of fumbling around and reaching under seats and into seat pockets and under floor mats. And it just hadn't occurred to me that there was some other way to live. I figured I was supposed to use my car's provided storage space the way it was intended and keep my CDs smushed betwixt the emergency brake and my seat and the phone charger under the mat on the passenger's side. How wrong I was, indeed. No more fumbling and feeling around under things. No sir. I need a new disc of my audiobook? Important Things Basket! I forgot to put on sunscreen before I left the house? Important Things Basket! I need to rap someone firmly on the hand for being ungentlemanly? Important Things Basket!

Important Things Basket! Win.

lurkified

Apparently it is that time of year where bloggers ask their readers to delurk themselves, complete with a creepy graphic!

Yoo hoo! *Waves* Hi there! Can you see me? I can't see you. I don't have the sort of thingy that shows me how many hits my page gets or where they come from or how often they occur. Whatsit called again? A site meter? Anyhow, if you're out there I don't know it. Unless you comment.

Would you comment today? I don't like to be pushy for these sorts of things but I would like to get to know you.

So. Who are you? What's your favorite color/flower/sports team/food/mythical creature?

My answers: I am Superjules/Julia/the lady of the house/the person who writes this here blog. Purple. Poppy or plumeria. USC Trojans. Cheese. Unicorn.

See? Easy peasy mac-n-cheesy! (Mmmm, cheesy).

Anyhow, thanks for stopping by to visit my corner of teh Interwebz. Lovely to meet you.

Resolutions.

I guess I needed a couple weeks to marinate on it but I have come up with some resolutions. I think I did a pretty good job of keeping last year's, so here we go again:

1. I will try to use my fluoride mouthwash every evening after brushing and flossing.
I forgot about/put off going to the dentist for about a year and I PAID dearly for it this summer and again just a few weeks ago. I'm tired of being drilled and filled and buffed and sanded. So I'm upping my already persnickety tooth care routine.

2. I will try to get the most out of my clinical experiences.
Yesterday I had my first day with a brand new preceptor in a brand new clinical site. My preceptor is a cardiology expert and I really want to improve my cardiac exams and assessments. She seems nice, so far, and she has already given me some tips and told me about a book that might help me. I ordered the book, I'm going to study it, and I'm going to go to clinical bright-eyed (even on the days it starts at 6:30 am) and ready to absorb all the information I can. I only have two (!!!) quarters left in school before I graduate and have to be a REAL Nurse Practitioner and know my shiznat so I'd better take advantage of all the learnin I can get.

3. I will give compliments to people I know AND people I don't know.
Everyone likes getting compliments. And I don't know about you but if I'm having a really crappy day and someone tells me they like my sweater or my earrings or my super awesome Timberland boots?

It helps. So that's what I'm trying to do-- brighten people's days on a small scale.

4. I will try to not be as snippy to store worker people when I can't get my way.
Oof. I had an appointment at the health center a few months ago. I got up, took the train over there, and arrived 15 minutes before my 8 am appointment. And then the front desk guy told me it had been canceled because the doctor I was supposed to see had called in sick. And I got frustrated and snappy at the guy because why didn't they CALL ME? Because didn't have my correct contact info after I changed my phone number. Oh. But then why didn't they EMAIL ME? Because that's not their policy.  Oh. And? The front desk guy was nothing but apologetic and polite to me even as I argued with him. So then I felt really bad. And I'm going to try harder. Because it wasn't HIS fault. Nor is it the tired, grumpy cashier's fault that the store doesn't do refunds, only exchanges. Nor is it the frustrated-with-her-boss receptionist's fault that my clinical paperwork didn't get approved. So even if the store workers aren't nice to me, I'm going to be more polite and less bitchy because, as my mom says, "you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar."

5. I will not drink soda every day.
I will not drink soda every day.

I WILL NOT drink soda every day.

Phone Anxiety: I haz it.

I don't like talking on the phone to people I don't know. When I was doing the online dating thang I liked the email, then text, then meet route. Because I can be awkward and squeaky when I talk on the phone to my FRIENDS so I can only imagine how I might sound to a stranger/potential suitor.
I have gotten better at calling the health center or the hair place to make appointments but I still hate calling to order from takeout places or calling businesses to ask questions. And if I have to call my new preceptor who I haven't even met in person yet? GAH.

Sometimes writing out a little script helps. Just so I hit all the important points and don't get trapped in the neverending circle of "Okay, just let me know what works best for you, thank you. I'm sorry again for calling so late, just let me know what works for you, okay, thanks again...."

Flea Market Finds

Approximately six months ago I ended up at a flea market by accident. We had meant to go to the farmer's market but went to the site on the wrong day. I've always liked thrift stores and consignment shops and yard sales and random little antiquey junk shops but I hadn't really ever been to a flea market (as my dad would say "who would want to buy fleas?"). So it was on this particular Sunday that I discovered THE THING THAT HAD BEEN MISSING FROM MY LIFE. Because! Flea markets! OMG.

You would THINK that flea markets embody many of the things I dislike-- being watched while I'm shopping, being spoken to by salespersons, and HAGGLING. This is true. But those factors are counteracted by the numerous things I DO like about it. Namely:
- shopping
- rifling through other people's stuff
- acquiring unique, often antique things
- buying items used and cheap
- TOUCHING THINGS, particularly smally trinkety objects

I bought a set of four of these trays on that first day.

The woman who sold them to me was something of a self-haggler. By that I mean that I asked her how much she wanted for the trays and she said "Hm... uh, eight dollars?" I think I must have looked surprised at the price (I was expecting it to be around $20) because then she said "Five dollars?" And I handed her five dollars. I kind of felt like I had to stop her before she went even lower. But I LOVE the trays and I use them all the time.

I bought this little ceramic watering can because I have plants and therefore I NEEDED a watering can. LOGIC.

This is kind of a sheisty picture of the little jar set and lazy susan I picked up at the Alameda Antique's Faire. Trust me when I say it is adorable. I think it is supposed to be used for condiments but I'm using it to store buttons and clothespins and other things of that nature.

Quilted dog (?) couch pillow thing! LOVE. I thought it was a steal at $2.

A touch of class for my apartment. Even though I've moved on to glass bottle Cokes, I'm still a Pepsi (or Pezbi as I tend to pronounce it) gal at heart.

Okay. This is my herd of Breyer horses. I started buying them a few months ago because they cost quite a pretty penny to buy new and I have several nieces who very much like them. So I would pick up a horse here or there when I saw it and I planned to give one to each of my nieces for Christmas. They ended up being a big hit!

Unfortunately this photo was taken yesterday and it represents my post-Christmas stock of Breyer horses. I'm not sure how long I can continue to use my nieces as an excuse for buying them.

Anyhow.

Cups!

I seem to have a thing for cups.

And do you spy the wee baby Breyer horse?

Something that happens as the flea market is coming to an end is that some of the booths drastically lower their prices. The owners will start yelling "ONE DOLLAR ITEMS HERE!" and people will flock over, frantically searching for something to buy. It's not unlike last call at a bar when everyone's got their beer goggles firmly in place, scouring the crowd in desperation for someone to take home.
Last Sunday I was looking at this little box just moments before they announced that items on the table were one dollar. Score.

But my FAVORITE thing I got last Sunday? OMG.

I had been keeping my eye out for a rotary dial phone ever since I decided that I WANTED one. I'm surprised I found one so clean and pretty and bright blue and cheap. Go ahead and dial that number-- it isn't mine.

One of the things that I learned from my MAGIC BOOK (One Year to an Organized Life, by Regina Leeds) is that it is okay to spend time and money on things for your home. Your home, she explains, is where you spend the majority of your time-- it should be a sanctuary, a place where you feel comfortable and happy. The objects you choose to have around you should reflect your personality and your taste. Looking back over these photos it appears that my taste is not unlike that of a 7 year old girl. The book has a lot of explanation about how not to have CLUTTER AND CHAOS in your home but on the other hand it is okay to have THINGS as long as they are serve a purpose. I'm interpreting that to mean that something doesn't have to serve a functioney purpose (like this is a plate and I'm eating off it) but it can be decorative or collecty and still increase my ZEN. Erm. I think.

Holidays

I know it's a bit late to talk about them but it is easier for me to remember my holiday traditions once they've freshly occurred. So! As my sister says, you get what you get and you don't make a fuss.


Thanksgiving

• Turkey with all the trimmings. Our stuffing always has pieces of sausage in it. I thought everybody's did but I guess that's not the case?
• A pre-dinner walk on the beach.
• This year was the first time I actually did any Black Friday shopping-- my sis and I hit up Target a 4am and then Toys R Us at 6am (I had my eye on a temporal thermometer because I am super awesome). It was actually really fun to do that once. Plus if you spent $100, which I OFTEN do at Target, they gave you a $10 gift card. You could theoretically buy something, get the gift card, and then return the stuff you bought. I didn't do that but I'm just saying-- you COULD.
• I like to make Thanksgiving leftover sandwiches: sourdough toast with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, and a smidge of cranberry on it.
• KOIT starts playing Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving. So that's the day my radio station gets tuned to  96.5 until they stop.

Christmas

• My mom and I pick up crab for dinner and eat lunch at the Fish Market on Christmas Eve.
• Christmas stockings always have an orange in the toe.
• We have Christmas dinner and open presents on whatever day everybody can be together. This year was the 26th.
• Champagne.
• We open one present on Christmas Eve. Maybe two. Okay, maybe three but that's IT.
• My mom's gingerbread cookies. She starts making them every year around October. They're heavenly. This year I helped frost and decorate (with M&Ms only) the last of them. These were the cookies that had been at the very bottom of the foot-tall cookie tin. My mom kept pulling out handfuls of broken gingerbread bits and saying "well we should just throw these away." But I talked her into frosting and decorating ALL of them since they're so delicious. So this year we had a lot of gingerbread amputees and miscellaneous gingerbread appendages.
• Christmas Eve children's mass with the kids and Christmas Day mass with my parents.
• Christmas Day breakfast of eggs, sausage, OJ, and homemade brioche. OMG so delicious.
• Watching the Muppet Christmas Carol.
  
• My newest tradition that I definitely plan to continue is buying lots of toys for the tots.
• I give my parents and my sisters photo calendars that I make every year. I used to just give them to my parents but then everybody liked them so now everybody gets one.
• My mom made a family cookbook that she adds to each year. It's actually just a binder and she gives us 3-hole-punched pages for it with favorite family recipes like fat-free scalloped potatoes (they're seriously num), stuffing, gravy, ratatouille, brioche, cinnamon buns in the shape of a lamb for Easter, butter in the shape of a lamb for Easter, and of course her gingerbread cookies.
• I give gifties my parents, sisters, all my nieces and nephews, whichever friends I currently see the most, plus my two neighbors I see every year at Christmas. My family used to try and do some type of 'pull a name out of a hat' thing but it somehow ended up being more complicated and less fun so we just went back to getting everybody gifts. I don't get gifts for my bros in law-- I usually get my sisters the calendar plus some other thing and I figure the calendar is a 'family' present.
• Martinelli's sparkling apple cider.
• My parents always have a big, tall Christmas tree decorated with strings of beads, white lights, ornaments we made as kids, ornaments the current kids have made, store-bought ornaments, silver bells (one for each year our neighbors have lived nextdoor to us), and a ballerina on top. This was the first year I got a tree of my own and I LOVED having it. It certainly put me in the Christmas spirit all month long.
• One of my family's favorite Christmas songs is Joy to the World. We sing it in church every Christmas but sometimes they don't have everybody sing all the verses. If that happens we tend to say "We didn't get to repeat the sounding joy," which is an expression that can also be applied to other instances. Like if I'm frosting the gingerbread cookies and someone trying to interrupt me I might say "just give me a minute, I'm repeating the sounding joy over here."

New Year's

• Chinese food. I don't know why but that's what we always have.
• A New Year's Dip. It counts if you either jump in the ocean or a pool and you can wear a wetsuit.

Emo post. Fair warning.

I always thought I would be married in my early twenties, perhaps mid-twenties at the latest. I didn't come to that conclusion after lots of pondering and soul searching, it was just something I knew. As far back as I can remember, I always just assumed that would be how my life went-- I would be married and starting a family in my twenties. Married. Kids. House. Garden. Happily ever after. That's what my parents did. That's what my sisters did.

And here I am. Twenty-eight and living with my cat.

I suspect that this is the point at which some of you are rolling your eyes at me. If you've changed your mind about reading this post, no hard feelings. You're excused.

I don't want to sound bitter or whiny or some combination of both. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. I'm not looking for sympathy or cheering up. Honestly, I just want to be able to feel how I feel and have that be okay.

I thought I would be married by now, living with a man I love, starting a family. But I'm not. And that makes me sad. The life I was so sure I would have is not going to happen the way I thought it was.

It makes me feel sad that I probably won't have a child before I am 30. And I know all the reasons why it perhaps should NOT make me sad-- lots of people don't even start to think about having kids until they are in their thirties, I still have plenty of time to have children in my thirties, I'm still in school, etc. I know that many people don't think about having kids until their thirties but you know what? That isn't me. I HAVE started thinking about having kids. I DO want them. And sure, maybe I still have plenty of time but I don't have UNLIMITED time. My fertile years are slipping by and I don't care if that sounds ridiculous coming from a 28 year old. I have been told that my "timeline approach" to dating and starting a family is nonsensical and sure, maybe that is true in a way. I do tend to hang onto dead-end relationships because I feel like I have invested so much time into them and I just don't want to start over again and ugh, yes, I do see the flaws in that. However. It doesn't make sense to me to just not think about it. Because there IS a timeline-- a physical, biological timeline. THAT IS SCIENCE.

Just because other people want to wait to have kids or they want to put their careers first or they don't worry because they still have plenty of time does not mean that is true for me. I don't want to put my career first. I don't want to wait.

But here I am. Waiting.

And this makes me sad. Not unbearably sad, not cry-myself-to-sleep sad. Just... meh... sad. Feeling this way does not mean that I'm unhappy with my life. It does not mean that I don't appreciate all the wonderful, truly amazing things that I have. It does not mean that I don't love my family or my life just exactly the way it is. And I'm also not disregarding the things I've learned or the relationships I've had. I know that I will definitely make a better wife/mother/partner because of my past than if I had started earlier.

I know that so many people have so much heartache. So many people can't have children or they have children and lose them or their spouses die or they are living with debilitating illnesses or a million other sad, terrible tragedies. I'm not saying that my sadness holds a candle to theirs, or that the loss of something intangible is comparable to the loss of something whole and real.

But my feelings are real. My grief is real. The loss is real, even if what I've lost was only a dream.

Day 22: Something you wish you hadn't done

Hey! Look at me! I'm breaking the rules! I lost momentum and ran out of steam and other expressions of that nature on the 30 Days of Truth thang and so I'm going to skippity skip ahead severalmany days to Day 22: Something I wish I hadn't done in my life (and then possibly go back and make up the other ones, but maybe not). Also! I'm backdating this so it won't appear at the top of my blog. YOU CAN'T PEN ME IN WITH YOUR RULES, INTERWEB!

Okay. Let me tell you about the worst weekend of my life. Well, one of the worst weekends of my life. This was last September, 2009, and I was still with the Crazy Ex. He had moved back down to LA (without telling me he was going) and was allegedly looking for a job. I had planned to go down there for the weekend to visit and to go to a USC football game. We talked on that Thursday night and got into an argument, the same argument we had been having for weeks. His point: He was mad and frustrated and couldn't find a job and he hated living at his dad's house because his dad was an asshole and his mom was a pushover but wouldn't let him live at her house and even though he was clean and sober for a full year nobody wanted to help him out or give him a break and all his friends were jerks who wouldn't help him find a job and nothing ever works out for him. My point: You made your bed. LIE IN IT.
And this made him mad. So he hung up on me. I tearfully called him back but he wouldn't pick up. I decided to give him some time to cool off-- I was sure we'd both feel better when we saw each other. So I packed up my stuff and drove down to LA on Friday afternoon. The weather was sunny and I drove with the windows down, warm wind blowing through the car.

I hit the Grapevine around 9 pm and pulled into a parking lot. It was dark out but there were lots of people around-- people on road trips making pit stops, little kids running around excitedly.
I turned off the car, picked up my cell phone, and called him. "Hey," I said. "I'm here...." He didn't understand, what did I mean? "I'm in LA," I said. "I can be at your dad's place in about an hour."
His rage shocked me "What the fuck, Julia? You can't just COME DOWN HERE when we haven't talked all fucking day. My dad won't let you come over, he's already in a bad mood. Why the fuck do you have to ADD stress to my life?"
I started to cry. I told him I didn't mean to add stress to his life. I told him I loved him. I told him I just wanted to see him and didn't he want to see me? After we hadn't seen each other in weeks? After I came all this way?
"You just can't come here!" he shouted. "You don't understand! I can't believe you did this without even fucking telling me. You can't come over here."
"But I...." I trailed off, wiped my tears on the back of my sleeve. "I have nowhere else to go...."
He was unmoved, "You can't do that to me! You can't just fucking say that. God, I can't believe you did this."
"Okay." I choked out between sobs. "OKAY." I told him I'd try to find somewhere else to go.
I was too embarrassed and sad to call anyone so I ended up texting everyone I knew who lived in the area. As luck would have it, my friend Nicole came through and offered me her couch, even though I wouldn't get there until about 11 and she had to work at 7 the next morning. I didn't tell her the whole story, but she could tell I was upset. She promised to have a vanilla vodka drink ready for me when I got there. I got back on the highway, feeling numb.
He called me to apologize and to say that he was just stressed out, that he would see me the next day. I said I would pick him up at noon. "Okay," he said. "I love you."

I spent the night cocooned on Nicole's couch, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a stuffed unicorn. I felt numb and confused and sad, but relieved. This would all be okay, I told myself. When I saw him the next day, it would all be okay.

The next day I drove out to his dad's house. I felt groggy and tired and my eyes hurt from crying the night before. It was another hot LA day so I wore my favorite orange skirt and an orangey yellow glass necklace he had given me.

I rang the doorbell, heart pounding. The door opened and his dad stood there, brow furrowed in confusion. "Hey Julia," he said. "He's not here, sorry."
I didn't understand him. "He's not here?"
"Nope. I don't know where he is." And then his dad stepped back and shut the door. I stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. I tried calling his phone, his friend's phone. Nothing. Finally, I rang the doorbell again. When his dad answered I said "Hi, I'm sorry. I know you said he's not here, but would you mind if I took a look in his room?" His dad shrugged, opened the door wider and let me in.

I thanked him and raced up the stairs. I opened the bedroom door and found... nothing.
Well, not nothing.
I found empty beer cans and liquor bottles.
I found a cell phone. I found tangled bedsheets with clothes strewn around them. I found a bra and a makeup bag and a pair of pink sunglasses. I found a duffel bag full of women's clothes. A woman's clothes.

So. You wanted to know something I wish I hadn't done?

I wish I hadn't climbed that staircase. I wish I hadn't stayed and searched for him for the rest of the day. I wish I hadn't believed that once I found him it would be resolved, that he would have some explanation and that we could still be okay. I wish I hadn't, after 6 hours, found him. I wish I hadn't let him get into my car, higher than a kite, paranoid, and angry with me. I wish I hadn't driven him back to his dad's house and painstakingly wrenched an explanation out of him, one that didn't even make sense, and accepted it. I wish I hadn't let him yell at me again, let him blame me for everything again. I wish I hadn't ignored the knot in my stomach or the prickly, anxious feeling in my chest for so, so long.

I wish I hadn't STAYED. Because after this, I STAYED. Sure, I broke up with him about two weeks later but looking back on this experience still gives me chills. Because I was so lost and confused and hollow and afraid that I was ready to accept anything he would give me. I was the dog he could kick and expect to come running back to him, begging for a treat or a kind word.

People sometimes ask me how I could have POSSIBLY dated this guy. How could I be with someone who treated me like that? And I tell them that he didn't start out like that. Of course he didn't. Girls don't START dating guys who beat them, do they? And girls don't START dating guys who emotionally abuse them, either.

He started out charismatic and fun and hilarious and thoughtful and charming and everyone who met him liked him and he was the life of the party. But after awhile that dwindled away but by then it was too late. I was trapped. I hate using the phrase "my therapist says" but MY THERAPIST SAYS that it starts small. And it did, it started small. For awhile it seemed like he thought everything about me was amazing and incredible and beautiful. And then one day it was "I don't like your music. Let's listen to my music." And that was fine. I didn't really care about my music that much. And then it was "Don't wear that shirt, wear this shirt." And that was fine, too. One shirt or the other didn't really matter. And then eventually it became "You shouldn't be friends with so and so, I don't like her and she's a bad influence," and "One day we'll get married and we won't talk to your family anymore." Little by little he wore me down, took me apart, made himself my window to the world.

People have told me that I "don't seem the type" to let a guy push me around like he did. I guess because I grew up with parents who love each other and a family and friends who have supported me throughout my whole life and because I have a strong personality and am able to achieve my goals that I'm not supposed to be the type of person who gets into this situation. I'm here to tell you THERE IS NO TYPE. There is no type.

That's part of what sickens and disturbs me about remembering that weekend. There I was, standing by my car outside his dad's house, dazed, wondering what had happened and how on earth I had gotten to where I was.
I wasn't strong enough yet to leave, to cut my losses, to get the hell out of there and hightail it back to San Francisco. At that point I couldn't even begin to think about what life might be like without him.
I didn't know it then but I actually was gaining the strength to get out. Eventually he was going to push me so hard that he wouldn't be able to get me back, no matter what tricks he tried. And believe me, he tried everything.
I got out.
But I still wish I hadn't let myself get cut down and kicked around and hurt and controlled by him all those times, and especially that one last time. Because if it happened to me, it really can happen to anyone.

Day 15: Something you couldn't live without, because you've tried

Butter.

Back in February I stopped buying it and decided to try going without it. Then in May I realized that was CRAZY. In September I tasted butter from the Farmer's Market, which is apparently made out of rainbows and orgasms. Butter. How did I ever think I could live without its delicious butteryness?

Sarcastic Jazz Hands

I need there to exist an emoticon that expresses Sarcastic Jazz Hands.
Because it is something I do OFTEN.

You'll have to imagine that my hands are waving.

Examples of usage:
"You know you want to shop at Diesel and American Apparel [Sarcastic Jazz Hands]."
"Have you seen the new Twilight [Sarcastic Jazz Hands] movie?"
"We stayed at Rumor, this super trendy [Sarcastic Jazz Hands] hotel in Vegas."
"I could smell Axe Body Spray [Sarcastic Jazz Hands] on the guy sitting next to me."

Sarcastic Jazz Hands roughly translates to 'I recognize that this person/place/thing of which I speak takes him/her/itself too seriously.'

I am officially the COOLEST GIRL YOU KNOW [Sarcastic Jazz Hands].

Day 14: A hero that has let you down

Oh, Sarah.

All images from here.

 She's beautiful, courageous, driven, and feisty. She sets off on a seemingly impossible journey to find and take back her baby brother from the Goblin King. Oh, and she's also REALISTIC-- she's emotional and whiny and can be a total brat. She has some really great ideas and some really crappy ones. She gets frustrated during her quest, because the Labyrinth is really FRUSTRATING. But she doesn't give up.

And then there's Jareth, the Goblin King, who throws obstacles in Sarah's path and drugs her and manipulates her friends and speeds up time to try and discourage her.

In a shocking twist of events it turns out that Jareth is actually IN LOVE WITH Sarah. YOU GUYS! He LOVES her!

If Dance Magic David Bowie loved ME? I'd be writing a letter home to my stepmother saying "Dude, sorry about your kid but me'n the king of the goblins'll take really good care of him." Actually I'd probably dictate the letter since I'm THE FUCKING QUEEN OF THE GOBLINS NOW.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Why didn't you stay?

At the very least you should have made out with him before you went back home so you could tell me what it was like.

Siiiiiiiigh.

For the Tots!

I've always told myself that when I had kids I would take them to the toy store every year and they would pick out things to donate to Christmas drives. I haven't done it yet because, well, no kids yet. But then yesterday I read this post by the Bloggess which made me want to get up off my arse and DO SOMETHING. So I went to the Toys for Tots web site and found out that San Francisco county isn't covered for some reason....? But then I looked at Santa Cruz County and saw THIS:

A huge shortfall? Not enough toys? For the tots? Break my heart whydontcha.

So today I went to Walgreens. They were having this buy-one-get-one toy sale. So I bought... many:

I'll drop them off this weekend. For now, they'll hang out under my tree, making the House of Jules much more festive. I've been DYING to put things under the tree but I don't have wrapping paper and for some reason unwrapped TOYS-under-the-tree feels different and more acceptable than unwrapped phonytails-under-the-tree. This exercise also satisfied the GNAWING URGE I had to buy! toys! I wanted to get my nieces and nephews gifties that weren't toys since they already have so very many toys, so I ended up getting them all art supplies so we can do projects together. The real gift = time spent with their coolest auntie. Obvs. But the tots? They need toys.

I've also decided to get my dad a donated hive of bees for Christmas. Or however you're supposed to write that. To clarify, my dad will get a card that says the money for the bees was donated in his name; the people in Uganda or El Salvador will get the actual BEES. He'll love it.