Mother's Day

I wrote this mostly yesterday and then Blogger crapped out, ate my most recent post, and wouldn't save this one. So here it is, only slightly delayed.

OHMYGOD let's focus on something else for a moment, shall we?

Would you like to see what I gave my mama for Mother's Day?

I painted her a picture.

My mom loves gardening and flowers and trees and flowering trees so I thought she would like it. (She did.) I'm not any real sort of artist but I enjoyed painting this. It was a nice evening of listening to music, doing something creative, and thinking about my mom.
The canvas is small. I meant to include some 'for-scale' item in the pic but I forgot, so I'll just tell you that it is approximately 5x7 inches. I've found that the littler canvases are a good size for me. I think bigger canvases can be overwhelming for painting (aack I have to fill ALL THAT SPACE) and also for displaying (aack this is going to take up SO MUCH SPACE) and also if I make some big mistake it doesn't take long for me to paint the small one all over in white and start again.

I wrapped it up in one of the scarves I bought at the white elephant sale. I thought my mom would like the scarf and also appreciate that its purchase benefited the Oakland Museum. (She did.)

Update

I just found out that I get to 'walk' in the graduation ceremony in June but I have to resubmit my paper this summer and the earliest I'll get to graduate is September. Which, I mean, come on that just sucks. Because two days ago I believed that I was within one month of graduation. After how hard I've worked and all the shit I've been through these past three years, it was amazing to know that I was almost finished. And now I'm, well, not.

When I'm ready to joke about this maybe I'll say something like "I guess this means everybody has to get me TWO ROUNDS of graduation presents, right?"
But right now all I can do is cry.

Wallowing

Yesterday I found out that I did not, in fact, pass my Giant Paper Thing. What does this mean? Basically that now I have to work closely with my advisor to rework the paper, turn it in again, and hope it passes this time.
I might also have to work closely with the readers, AKA THE PEOPLE WHO FAILED ME. Oh, hello humiliation, so nice to see you again!
I may or may not get to graduate in June. Basically, my advisor said that I would redo the paper and they would get people to read it this summer. I was shocked-- THIS SUMMER? I stammered something about graduation and she said "Hmm. Well, I don't think it will affect graduation much but I'm really not sure. Let me look into it." Yes, DO LOOK INTO IT.

Things that make me feel better:
- receiving texts, emails, tweets of the "I'm sorry, that SUCKS" variety.
- hugs and snugs
- thinking about how my sister didn't pass the bar exam the first time she took it but she passed it the second time and now she's a kick ass, sought-after lawyer.
- junk food
- soda
- listening to music
- maybe showering? I haven't done that yet but I suspect it will help.
- Bowie cuddling with me
- KC bringing me dinner and taking me to a movie last night.
- thinking about how, even though this paper did not pass, it isn't a reflection of my skills as a clinician.
- being excused from class today

Things that don't make me feel better:
- talking on the phone about it (leads to crying)
- talking about it in person (leads to crying)
- sleeping (leads to crying)
- being asked questions like "why didn't it pass?" Well, gee, if I knew that then IT WOULD HAVE PASSED. If I knew what was wrong or missing or WHATEVER I would have FIXED IT.
- being told to look on the bright side "I'm sure it'll be okay!" "I bet they'll let you walk in June!" "Don't let 'em get you down!" Look. I appreciate what you're trying to do, really I do. But I need to be allowed to be sad for a few days. I was living my life under the assumption that things were going to turn out a certain way and now they are not. I already put my heart and soul into writing that paper. I spent hours and hours at coffee shops, in the library, and at my desk cranking out 30+ pages. I sent it out to be inspected by an APA expert, a content editor, and a neurobiologist. I WORKED MY ASS OFF AND IT WAS NOT GOOD ENOUGH. And now I have to do it again and I just don't know if I have it in me. So if I need to feel crappy about this for a couple of days then BY GOD I'M GOING TO.
- thinking about spending another howevermany hours working on the paper all over again.
- thinking about how hard these past three years have been and and how MUCH crap I've been through and how hard I have worked.
- thinking about the graduation festivities I was starting to plan.
- thinking about how I never, ever, fail ANYTHING. I am good at school. I don't know how to strive for anything but As so the only papers on which I've ever gotten lower than A grades have been papers that have been half-assed. But I did not half-ass this paper. This paper was FULLY ASSED. Which makes me think there was some problem with the assignment or the readers or SOMETHING. This does not make me feel better, you see, because it doesn't change anything. I still have to redo the damn thing, so feeling like I was cheated somehow does not improve my life.
- thinking about how I have clinical tomorrow and I hope I don't cry.

Microbes.

I think enough time has elapsed that I can talk about this.

When Valentine's Day rolled around last year I was dating KC but we had only been seeing each other for a couple months. I spent some time fretting about what level of present to get him. Something nice? Romantic? Nothing at all? A card? Something I make? Just dinner? The best situation would be that we both got each other something nice/romanticish or that his gift to me would be slightly MORE romantical than my gift to him. Which is basically what happened. And there was peace and prosperity in the kingdom.


This year was a little different.

If you ever find yourself in a situation where you are dating me, here is a handy tip: I will always expect the highest level of affection/attention that you have given me.

The HIGHEST level. Of affection/attention. THAT YOU HAVE GIVEN ME.

What does that mean? It means that if you take me out for a lovely, romantic birthday dinner one year then the next year I will be somewhat crestfallen when you say "Uh. I dunno let's just get pizza" without looking away from the TV. It isn't that I don't LIKE pizza or that I wouldn't ENJOY spending the evening snuggled on the couch or WHATEVER. That's not the point. The point is that you set the bar HERE once ----- but now you're only reaching for HERE ____ (not to scale).

You'll notice that I emphasize that my expectation of an attention/affection level is what YOU have ever given me. So it's not like I'm comparing you, potential boyfriend, to EVERYONE I'VE EVER DATED. Just your own actions. (Although truth be told if I WERE to compare you to everyone I've ever dated then you probably wouldn't have to worry at all because most of them set the bar NICE AND LOW. Birthday text message breakup, anyone?)

Anyhow. Are you following this highly logical logic? If you act a certain way in the beginning of the relationship, I will go ahead and assume that you will continue to act that way, unless something largely changes. Obviously if we are in the middle of a big argument or breaking up or you're stressed about work or your grandmother dies then, yeah, you're off the hook.

Extenuating circumstances aside, if you do something nice for Christmas or my birthday or fillintheblankholiday one time then my expectations for the next time will be in that RANGE. It doesn't mean that ANYTHING ELSE IS UNACCEPTABLE. Showing me that you care doesn't always LOOK the same. I'm a reasonable person. I understand that taking me out to a fancy restaurant is awesome but that taking me out to my favorite cheapie place is ALSO awesome. Buying me a fancy cocktail is EQUALLY nice as buying me a Pepsi in a glass bottle becuase you know how I love Pepsis in glass bottles. Basically I want to make it clear that if you show me you care about me once I'm not expecting you to fall all over yourself trying to show me in bigger, grander ways for the rest of my life. I'll settle for a somewhat consistent level of showing that you care.


But, say for instance that on Valentine's day last year you got dressed up and took me out to dinner and gave me a lovey, nice present and generally made me feel all fluttery and sappy.


This year? I WILL NOT BE EXPECTING THIS.

Yes. This year for Valentine's day I got KC something that I thought he would like and use and would tie in nicely with his birthday present and he got me THIS.

GIANT STD MICROBES.

I was. Um.
I was um, surprised.
Confused.
I went home and did an internet search. I found that he bought them off of a web site. A web site that sold OTHER TYPES OF MICROBES.

HE SPECIFICALLY CHOSE THE STDS.

I don't know about you, but, to me? STD Microbes just don't say "I love you."

If anything at all STD Microbes say "I'm giving you STDs for Valentine's day."
Even the BOX! Tell me the flaming V part of the heart shaped box doesn't scream FIRECROTCH to you.
ARGUE WITH ME ON THIS, I DARE YOU.

I went around in circles trying to figure out WHAT he meant by this gift. It must be a joke, I thought. But HE KNOWS I don't LIKE joke gifts. So then maybe it is because I am a nurse? But I'm not, like, an infectious disease specialist or anything. Is it because he knows I like cute, little things? But they are STDs. The fact that they are STDs OVERRIDES their cute littleness. I DON'T UNDERSTAND.

"I don't understand," I told Jenny. "What do I do?"
"Well," she said "You could let it go."

Ohhhhhhhh. I could let it GO. I could do what my sister has taught her daughter to do-- say "Thank you! It's just what I wanted!" I could accept this gift because KC spent money on me and spent time looking for a present for me and gave me something that I guess he thought I would like (?) for some unknown reason. I could let it go.
Or I could stew about it for a couple hours and then give KC tearful speech about gift giving and how I didn't understand what this meant and how I felt like maybe he doesn't 'get' me and how he was supposed to show me he loves me and STD MICROBES DON'T SAY I LOVE YOU.

I'll leave it up to you to guess which one I did.

Just the other night, KC and I were watching TV and there was a girl on the show who was trying to hint around for her dude to talk about their relationship since he was about to be moving far away.

"She's being so obvious," I said.

KC snorted "Not as obvious as you would be!"

"..."

"I just mean that, you know, when you have something on your mind you have to SAY it."

"But I-," I stammered, indignantly. "Is that bad?"

"No it isn't bad. It's just you."

Yeah. Well. STD MICROBES DON'T SAY I LOVE YOU.

But maybe putting up with a gal who always always ALWAYS says what's on her mind and really listening to her when she feels like she has something important to say and validating her feelings and telling her you love her and apologizing when you hurt her feelers, maybe that does.

And bringing her this?

Well, it sure doesn't hurt.

Cozy

Sometimes it gets cold here in San Francisco.

Graduation Gifties

Now that I've finished with my Giant Paper Thing people tend to assume that I'm done with everything. "So you're done!" they say. "What have you been doing with yourself?" And I have to explain that, no no, the Giant Paper Thing was due in the middle-beginningish of the quarter and actually I still have a full month left of classes and clinicals. Plus, I've been doing all that stuff I put off while I was frantically working. I'm really still just as busy as I was before, but now I shower.

My sister has been bugging me to come up with a graduation gifty list (assuming that the next month or so goes according to plan and I do indeed graduate). TWIST MY ARM, I said to that.

Here are some things I like, just in case you had a hankering to buy me things or if you were looking for inspiration for your own wish list. Or whatever. This was basically just an excuse to troll through Etsy and find things I like.

This Jackalope Feltidermy is the NUMBER ONE OMG BESTEST THING I WANT WANT WANT.

All photos are from their respective Etsy sellers.

I decided I would buy it for myself as a Happy Graduation to Me present. But then I tried to contact the seller twice about special ordering one and she never responded. SADFACE.

Moving on.

I also like this rainy day pillow.

Or this rainbow tree pillow.

Non-white handkerchiefs like this one would be useful.

How sweet is this little poppy blossom clutch?

I'm not sure what I would keep in it but I'm sure I could find a use for this bunny pouch.

This owl purse is too cute. Or do the eyes make it creepy?

At $400 this tree shelfy thing is obviously not something I would ever expect to receive as a gift. But I'm including it because I find it adorable. Actually, the $800 one is even cuter. WHY IS ARE THESE EXTRAVAGANCES SO DAMN EXPENSIVE? Oh, right.

This sweatshirt is cute.

Oh, wait, so is this pillow from the same shop! But why is it $82?

Actually I think I like this one better. And I like that it is $28.

Speaking of pillows (again), I like this seat cushion. It would have been nice to have it for my tush while I was stuck for hours and hours writing my Giant Paper Thing.

Oh GOODNESS. A fox on my shoulders? Don't mind if I do.

Also in the category of 'I wouldn't want someone to actually spend this much money on me'-- this wall decal.

Okay I must stop now. It is bedtime. Perhaps I got a little carried away!

2. finish my zen organizing project

We all remember what my living room used to look like, right?

Oh man. Looking at that makes me feel kind of dizzy and queasy. I can't BELIEVE how I used to live. And if you are thinking that perhaps I purposely took a photo of my living room when it was at its PEAK of messiness, you are sadly mistaken. That was just a regular day in the life of 2009 Julia. Cleaning and organizing were very far down on my list of priorities. Very far, indeed.

This is what my living room looked like post-zenning:

And, over one year later, here is what my living room looks like TODAY:

May I take this opportunity to recommend a book to you?

One Year to an Organized Life by Regina Leeds (I had a link here but I couldn't get it to work for some reason. It was affiliate, though, so I guess you can buy it with the knowledge that I won't see ANY kickbacks from it. So if that's what was holding you back from buying it then you're in the clear now).

That BOOK! It changed my life. Seriously.

The book encourages you to make your home into a sanctuary, a haven, a place of comfort, style, function, and happiness. Your home is where you spend most of your time, right? So why not make it somewhere WORTH spending most of your time?

I took that philosophy and ran with it. Let's turn back time a little and have a look at the transformation, shall we?

My kitchen counter, before:

My kitchen counter, post-zenning:

My kitchen counter, TODAY:

My bedroom shelfy area, before:

My bedroom shelfy area, post-zenning:

My bedroom shelfy area, TODAY:

My closet before:

My closet post-zenning:

My closet TODAY:

NOW DO YOU BELIEVE ME?

Okay okay. I do recognize that while this book worked wonders for me it may or may not do the same for you. Approximately one year and six months ago I found myself with an exceptionally messy apartment and a lot of mental energy that I needed to focus on not having a nervous breakdown and dropping out of school because The Crazy Ex was harassing/stalking/threatening me. My sister sent me the book, I opened it to "January" even though it was October, and I started organizing my kitchen. It was the perfect combination of planning, shopping, therapeutic self-care, and Getting Things Done.

And the book worked its magic on me. As you can see, I didn't used to mind clutter or chaos or, OMG, LIVING OUT OF BOXES. The book helped me clean up my act by not only telling my HOW to be more organized, but by changing my PERSPECTIVE.

I lived in the same home from birth to age 17. That house was my HOME. And I think that I felt like my college/grad school/etc. years' homes were "just temporary." Which, I mean, they were. I bounced around from various apartments to rooms-in-a-house to more apartments. And I felt like none of these places were really my homes, at least not compared to my childhood home. I guess I thought that my HOME home would come after I had a career/family/[whatever nebulous other things I wanted]. I suppose I figured that I shouldn't bother making some temporary apartment HOMEY because I wasn't going to live there forever. Which, well, now sounds pretty ridiculous. I feel like I need to clarify that this wasn't a CONSCIOUS thought-process. This is the reasoning that I came up with right now to justify my previous slovenly behavior.

Anyhow! I think the book helped me realize that it doesn't matter that the apartment in which I am living now will not be my home forever. I may have to move soon after I graduate, depending on where and when I find a job (assuming I do find a job). So I'm inevitably going to have to pack and unpack and weed through and reorganize alllll my stuff again. But that doesn't MATTER.
Just because I will have to put everything away again in some new apartment eventually does not excuse me from putting my stuff away in my CURRENT apartment. Eureka!

So. I'm crossing this item off my life list because I realized something the other day: ZEN IS A LIFESTYLE. I don't think I'm ever going to be FINISHED organizing my home. I'll always be getting rid of stuff and accumulating stuff and trying to fit things better and playing around with shelves and boxes. I'll keep working on making my house nicer and prettier and homier and better. The difference is that now I ENJOY cleaning and organizing.
ME.
I enjoy cleaning and organizing.
You win, Universe.

Now when I have an afternoon free, I want to spend it by gathering things to drop off at the Goodwill or organizing my important papers into a binder.

Or finding a new function for the little wooden basketty thing I got at the flea market.

Just yesterday I had a few hours to myself (I say that like I don't live by myself and don't have plenty of time by myself, but what I mean here is that I had free time. Which... I guess I could have just said in the first place) and I decided to hit up TJ Maxx. I bought some boxes for my bathroom shelfy thing, and then I came home and organized it.

I actually find it soothing to work on little organizey projects.
I did not used to be like this.

ZEN IS A LIFESTYLE. A lifestyle I am totally on board with now. A lifestyle I will share with you with crazy-eyed enthusiasm.

S-U-P-E-R-J-U-L-E-S-Y

I often find myself having to spell out my email address. Super. Julesy, I'll say, ess you pee ee are jay you el ee ess why. I have come up with an anagram, inspired by Avitable. But a lot less... dirty. Here it is:

S as in Snark.

U as in Unicorn.

P as in Pie.

E as in Enthusiastic Anti-Douchebag Activist.

R as in Rump.

J as in Jazz Hands, of the sarcastic variety.

U as in, again, Unicorn.

L as in LOUNGE PANTS.

E as in Emotions. I haz them.

S as in Sparkles!

Y as in Yesterday was Thursday Thursday, today it is Friday Friday. We we we so excited. We so excited. We gonna have a ball today.


Easy, right? YOU'RE WELCOME.

Diagosis

Me, to S, my neurobiologist friend: My brain seems to have turned to mush. Is there a technical diagnosis for this?

S: I believe they refer to it as jello encephalitis.

Fresh from the Faucet

This is apparently what happens when two people have been spending most of their time doing stressful, boring things like homework, study work, housework, work work, and OMG GIANT PAPER DUE IN SIX DAYS GIANT PAPER work.

sailboat

i told them not to wait for me, i wouldn't return for years
packed a compass and my father's watch, ignored my mother's tears
climbed aboard my masterpiece with a bag of just-hatched newts
hung them over the starboard side, donned my anti-salmon boots

six miles off the coast and drifting, wishing for a change in tides
my prison of hammered and painted wood, water grabbing at its sides
i'm ready with my funnelscope to find singing red-horn whales
-- i built myself a sailboat, but i forgot to bring the sails


(Some people were talking about not liking poetry on Twitter this morn so I thought I'd post this. It's from a magical realism-ish collection I wrote it back in 2004 for the final project in one of my classes. I was a Creative Writing major, dammit.)

Oh baby.

The other night I dreamed that I had a baby.
The main focus of the beginning of the dream was logistical. I was worried- how will I squeeze in going to the hospital go have my baby when I've got all these meetings and other things to do? There was a big chunk of time (dream time, that is) in which I dithered about and tried to figure out my schedule.

And then the baby was there. It was a girl. She was really really cute, you know, as babies are wont to be. She had dark hair and big blue eyes and little pink cheeks. She was pretty interactive, so I suspect she was more of the movie-age newborn rather than an actual newborn-age newborn. I named her Fi0na.

The rest of the dream involved me taking her home and realizing, huh, it's not easy to carry all my school books and this here baby at the same time and maybe I'll just put her here on the couch and gaze at her for a little while.

When I woke up I felt kind of disappointed and sad about my baby's name. Not because Fi0na isn't a lovely name but because it is an off-limits (already been chosen by someone close to me) name.

So I lay there feeling bad about that for a moment but then I rationalized that I could change her first name but keep Fi0na as her MIDDLE name. Handy solution! Especially since I had really just been calling her 'Baby' because this whole situation was rather new to me.

And then I realized it had been a dream and that there was actually NO BABY AT ALL and so I got to feel disappointed all over again.

The following sentence may or may not sound completely insane, depending on your feelings about babies in general and dream babies specifically:

I kind of miss her.

Crunch Time. With Lists.

Currently and for the next couple of weeks my life is going to look a lot like this.

Oh yeah. You're jealous.
Big Giant Don't-Pass-and-You-Don't-Graduate Paper is due in just a couple short weeks (!!!!) and in an obnoxious turn of events I have to pause my frantic work on that and focus on class tomorrow. Because I am leading it. In the interest of full disclosure, I did volunteer for this. Because! Everyone has to lead class once this quarter and I picked tomorrow for the following reasons:
1. I definitely don't want to lead class next week, when my Giant Paper due date is even CLOSER.
2. I DEFINITELY don't want to lead class the week after that, when my Giant Paper is due.
3. I definitely don't want to lead class the week after that, when my Giant Paper has been turned in and I'm mentally checked out.
4. It will be nice to get it over with.
5. I feel like sometimes things like this are a little less structured and intense when you go first...?

I am slightly nervous since I emailed the professor asking her several questions about how tomorrow will go and what exactly I am supposed to do to prepare and I haven't heard back from her. So. I guess I'll be making it up. I'm not TOO nervous since my class is full of my friends-- gals I've known for 2 years now,  most of us in our final quarter of the program.
Well my class is full of my friends, except for this one lady about whom I have a bad attitude because the first day I met her she cornered me and gave me a list of reasons why my specialty shouldn't exist. MY SPECIALTY. Geriatrics. Shouldn't exist! I stood there, mouth hanging open confusedly as she explained that it would be better if I were an Adult Nurse Practitioner because then I'd be able to treat more people. I was so taken aback and confounded that I wasn't able to articulate an eloquent response, let alone ANYTHING AT ALL. I basically said "Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man" and walked away and have since vented my rage at anyone who will listen. Because?
1. Hey! Shut up!
2. My specialty shouldn't exist? How about YOUR specialty shouldn't exist? HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?
3. Seriously! Shut up!
4. The population is aging. Yes, I do indeed think that Ger0nt0logical Nurse Practiti0ners are necessary. Step off.
5. WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY CLASS? My class full of Ger0 specialty students. Explain yourself or get out.
6. Better yet, explain yourself AND get out.

Anyhow. I hope you enjoyed this disjointed, vaguely insane rant of stress and misplaced anger. I think it paints a rather accurate picture of my current status.

RIGHTNOW

I am currently:

- wearing my GREEN SHIRT.
- fine with the fact that my hair is a bit mussed. I'm not flat ironing it on such a beautiful day.
- not sure why the weather being nice influences my decision to style my hair BUT IT DOES.
- about to leave for a meeting with my advisor about my Giant Paper Thing that is due in a couple weeks.
- nervous about said Giant Paper Thing.
- looking forward to being done with said Giant Paper Thing but at the same not feeling good about the approaching deadline.
- drinking a real sugar Pepsi.
- attempting to summarize and critique an article for my Giant Paper Thing.
- enjoying the fact that some of the authors names include: Lautenschlager, Cox, Flicker, Greenop, and Bockxmeer.
- thinking I could really go for some Lautenschlager right now. That's a drink, right?
- apparently procrastinating.
- wishing I hadn't tripped and fallen the other day resulting in a huge bruise on my knee, nicely coinciding with the gorgeous skirt-wearing weather.


What are you doing?

Shirt

I have this shirt.

I like this shirt. I like many things about it. It is a pretty color, it fits like a dream, and it is very soft.
I would like to buy this shirt in EVERY COLOR but the problem is that I don't have any idea where it came from. I got it a couple years ago at a clothing exchange party in the East Bay that was hosted by a friend of a friend. Even if I could track down the hostess I'm not sure she would remember which clothing exchange I attended (since apparently she is an avid clothing exchanger) or who was there and even if she could miraculously figure out who brought the shirt there is no guarantee that the previous owner would remember where she got it. The previous owner obviously didn't care for the shirt like I do or else it wouldn't have ended up in her clothing exchange bag. Which, I mean, I'm glad it did so I can't really shake my finger at the person for not appreciating THIS AWESOME SHIRT.

My only clue is this label.

No brand. No size, even. Just a... heart besweatered girl weeping? My internet search results for THAT were interesting. And unsuccessful.
So I'm pretty much SOL. Unless one of you out there can tell me where my shirt originated?