I am TOTALLY stoked that the semester is finally over and I'm on break (kinda). The Holiday Season is upon us, however, which brings a whole different set of stresses with it. Fortunately, I'm pretty awesome and have already finished making the gifts I will be distributing to family and friends. (More on that later.)
All that is left are the gifts for, well, ME.
And I think I have come up with a decent list:
1. I will make time to mess around with my blogs.
2. I will finally get around to updating my photo diary. (Got a month of backlog on that one...)
3. I will make time to exercise. Or at least think really hard about it while I'm eating turtle candies.
4. I will learn how to crochet/knit.
5. I will wait until I get my next paycheck before I worry about those bills piling up on the table.
Those are my Winter Break gifts to myself. I think I can manage most of them. Also on my list is "Cleaning The House" and "Doing Another Vlog."
I'll be back with a post about my awesome DIY presents, then maybe a post about cleaning, then possibly a post about how goofy I am. Yay, I'm going to be productive!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
The Descent Into Madness
I have no doubt that everyone really wants to listen to me complain about how difficult my life is and how sad and pathetic I am. Really, what could be more interesting? But, I also understand that you all live very busy lives and don’t necessarily have the capacity to devote their entire being to being sympathetic towards me. It’s okay. Really. Feel free to skip this one. You don’t even have to skim. Read as much or as little as you please. I will warn you, though, only reading every third word doesn’t trend towards thorough comprehension of literature.
Still with me? All right, then. You had your chance. I'm not going to apologize for what you're going to read next.
I’ve mentioned before that I haven’t been having the greatest time of things these days. In fact, the last few months have been rather hellish. I’ve noticed a theme and that theme is Murphy’s Law. Now, bear with me; here’s where it starts to get rant-y.
Let’s begin with all of the little things that go wrong. For instance, my home life.
(Just a disclaimer: Any complaints directed at The Mister aren’t really fair. He is currently one of the few things still keeping me sane and is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me and I love him more than I love snack cakes. But I’m feeling bitchy and he happens to be standing on the firing range.)
I live in a tiny apartment. Miniscule. And it’s full of animals because I have no self control and nobody stopped me from getting all of these pets and cramming them into my tiny apartment. I’m working full time, attending college with a ¾ course load, and performing with my band every weekend. I have no time to do anything, much less clean up after my plethora of pets. The Mister goes to school. The rest of his time is spent playing video games and waiting for me to come home. Cleaning? Not without being forced to by me. Don’t get me wrong, he’s astoundingly thorough once he gets going. But he has ZERO motivation to do so if I’m not there.
Last month, when I tried to add Writing A Novel to the giant stack of responsibilities (disastrous, yes it was) I expressed my distress over the sight and smell of the living room a few times, usually accompanied by sobbing over how overwhelmed I was by life. He reassured me each time that he would take care of it, not to worry about the chores, he wanted me to succeed, etc… I guess what he really meant was that he wouldn’t mind leaving it like it is until I’ve cleared enough off my plate to start doing all of the chores again. Yeaaah. Thanks. Very helpful. So rather than keeping it clean a little at a time, I’m now going to have to devote at least a full weekend to gathering up and taking out the piles of garbage, disposing of animal waste, steam-cleaning all of the carpets, doing 10 loads of laundry, scrubbing out the fridge, sweeping and mopping, unclogging the tub and bathroom sink, digging out the study, and finding and washing every single dish in the house except for the two plates and fork that are somehow, miraculously clean and put away.
Dishes. Oh, yes. How difficult is it to scrape the food scraps into the garbage can when you bring your plate to the sink? The garbage can is only a few feet away. Scrape and rinse, it’s pretty simple. I’m going to need a mask to protect myself from the fungal spores that are growing in the terrarium that used to be the kitchen sink. There are wads of napkins in there. I guarantee you I did not put them there. There’s only one other person in the house. Does he LIKE wads of paper fiber clogging the sink? Did he want to turn the kitchen counter into a stagnant cesspool of nastiness? I can’t even bring myself to reach in there and pull them out. I’m a germaphobic, obsessive-compulsive hand-washer. I freak out when I get splashed while rinsing crumbs off my plate. I can’t handle that sink. It’s developing intelligence. There are organisms in there. I’m thinking I need a flamethrower, not a dishrag, for this.
And the sink itself. Which moron designed a sink that’s so shallow you can barely fit an average saucepan between the drain and the faucet? Doing dishes is the equivalent of running through the sprinkler six or seven times. Might as well put on a bathing suit. In fact, the whole kitchen is fucked. No usable counter space, the wiring is so bad that if the fuse blows if the microwave and the toaster are on at the same time, and the stove apparently has only one temperature setting, which should be labeled: FLAMES OF HELL. Grilled cheese sandwich? More like lump-of-carbon sandwich! At least it only took 13 seconds to cook. No need to waste more time than that on food I won’t even get to eat.
Actually the stove temperature is moot-point, since the stove top is UNUSABLE due to the STACKS OF SODA CANS AND BOTTLES. The recycling bin is literally next to the oven. Right next to it. Shift that stack six inches to the left and it would be IN the bin. I was curious as to why it would be more preferable to stack them on the only cooking surface in the kitchen, so I went ahead and asked. His justification? “I didn’t want the bin to get full.”
Wow. Genius. If the cans aren’t in the bin, then you don’t have to take the recycling out with the garbage. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? We’ll never have to take out any trash ever again! That will save us TONS of work!
Speaking of tons of work, how about the laundry piled up in the bedroom? If I work five nights a week and spend the other two playing gigs, then I’m probably not going to have time to do your laundry. You might actually have to do it yourself. I can’t always be the one to say, “Hey, let’s pop down to the Laundromat and wash these smelly clothes.” I know I usually wash, dry, and fold everything, but you were capable of doing it before we moved in together and I really doubt you somehow forgot how a washing machine works.
Hmm. After going back and rereading that, I realized I sound rather like a petulant child. And to be fair, since I wrote that a couple days ago, he did wash a few loads of dishes, cleaned out the sink (sorta), and did the laundry all without me making him. He even took out the garbage and most of the recycling. It took him a while to get around to it, but he did do it.
I’m still going to leave what I wrote, though. The house was like that for over a month, the whole time he was telling me he would “take care of it.” My ire is legitimate.\
That’s just the stuff at home. My family life…I won’t even go into that because I’m going to break down and start bawling again and I just really don’t want to think about it. That was the main thing that destroyed my NaNoWriMo. And in the end, all of the effort I poured into helping that one person was meaningless, because they went right back to the way they were. I still love them, but they’re not getting any more of me. I’m done. It took me 20 years to realize that it’s their decision and they have to live with it. I don’t. I’m not going to reach out anymore. If they decide they want to fix their life and ask for my help, I might consider it. But I’m sure as hell not offering it any more.
Work has been miserable. I’m manager now, which means all of the shit gets dumped on me and everyone expects me to fix their problems for them. I’m not a miracle worker. And I’m not getting any support from my superiors, because they’re busy with the shitstorm of lawsuits that some upset employees have brought down on them. At least they still have time to let me know that I’m not doing my job well enough. Kinda wish they would tell me their expectations rather than just criticize me, but I guess that’s asking for too much. Obviously, I must have missed the part of my job description where it says I need to be a mind-reader and automatically know what they want me to do. Back when I was promoted, I asked the program manager what exactly my duties would be. She answered, “Oh, you know, just the usual stuff. And anything else I need you to do.” Laughed when I asked her to elaborate a little more on that. Told me I would “figure it out quick” since I’ve done such a good job so far.
Oh, and it would be really cool if I could get my paycheck on time. Even better if it would actually have the correct amount on it. But again, I know I’m asking for a lot. I shouldn’t be so selfish.
Ugh. I’m losing steam. Just going through all of this mentally is exhausting. I better wrap this up.
To top it all off, we were hit with a MASSIVE blizzard this past weekend. 20 inches of snow. The drifts are piled up so high at the intersections, I can’t even see around them without pulling out! I’ve gotten stuck TWICE, burned through an entire tank of gas in two days, and some inattentive driver pulled out of a driveway and wrecked my passenger side door. I don’t have insurance because I can barely afford to pay my rent. Plus, I got a parking ticket the ONE TIME I had to park on the wrong side of the street because there was snow piled up in the only other spot and we NEVER GET PLOWED. I’m a paranoid wreck while driving because people are fucking maniacs and won’t slow down even though everything is iced over. I’m supposed to drive my clients around while I’m in this condition? I think I’m getting an ulcer. I might just die.
Plus, my laptop broke and I have 4 huge projects due and they’re all on a computer that doesn’t have a working screen. The only reason I’m not failing my classes is because I can take my homework with me to my job and squeeze in a few minutes every once in a while to do it. But now that my laptop is tethered to a spare monitor at home, my only time to do homework is at 11:00 at night when I have to get up for an 8am class every day. My grades have fallen from a high A to a C in the last two weeks. I’m not even going to class half the time because I’m so strung out and messed up over everything. I have no money, debt piling up around my ears, and I’m starting to think I should just check myself into the psych ward and save everyone the time.
In conclusion, my life is hell right now.
Okay, I’m glad that’s off my chest. I actually feel a bit better, too. Sorry for the epic whining post, but I really needed that. I promise, someday I won’t use my blog to emo-bitch about how much I suck. In fact, I promise the next post will be something pleasant and interesting and won’t make people want to punch me in the face. Pinky-swear.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
I need more sharks in my life. Sharks with lasers. PEW PEW PEW
I'm getting dangerous today. I'm blogging without writing it out on my fancy-dancy columnar pad first. LIVIN' ON THE EDGE, MAN. LIVIN' ON DA EDGE>>>
Those are capitalized periods, in case you were wondering.
If it seems I'm a little crazy, it's because I am. I have reached that zen point, where all the chaos and anxiety in my life has collapsed into a black hole of emotion and has left me with a deadly calm. I am floating on the breeze, tip-toeing along the blade's edge, all whilst staring intensely into the blank space just behind my eyeballs.
More on this at 10. BACK TO YOU BARBARA.
EDIT: Hmm, that's really not much of a blog post at all. Here are some fun things to look at!
http://www.buttercupfestival.com/
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/
http://www.27bslash6.com/strata.html
http://xkcd.com/
http://biblecampbloodbath.blogspot.com/2010/11/chapter-1.html
I take no responsibility for anything ever. There. That's a proper disclaimer.
Those are capitalized periods, in case you were wondering.
If it seems I'm a little crazy, it's because I am. I have reached that zen point, where all the chaos and anxiety in my life has collapsed into a black hole of emotion and has left me with a deadly calm. I am floating on the breeze, tip-toeing along the blade's edge, all whilst staring intensely into the blank space just behind my eyeballs.
More on this at 10. BACK TO YOU BARBARA.
EDIT: Hmm, that's really not much of a blog post at all. Here are some fun things to look at!
http://www.buttercupfestival.com/
http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/
http://www.27bslash6.com/strata.html
http://xkcd.com/
http://biblecampbloodbath.blogspot.com/2010/11/chapter-1.html
I take no responsibility for anything ever. There. That's a proper disclaimer.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Locked Out
I have experienced something horrible and scary.
Loss of identity.
No, I have not been victim to identity theft or anything quite as serious as that, but I have had a part of me taken away by force. Yesterday morning, I tried to log in to Facebook and was greeted by a page informing me that my account was deactivated. Because, "Impersonating anyone or anything is prohibited." And I must authenticate my account in order to reactivate it.
Hold the fucking phone.
I have done absolutely nothing to ever indicate that my account is fake. Obviously, because it's not. I have dozens of blog posts, hundreds of photos of myself, countless twitter and status updates, NOT TO MENTION all of my real life friends with whom I communicate on a daily basis. This is absolutley RIDICULOUS. I can't possibly describe how upset I am and how violated I feel.
Maybe it seems like I'm being overdramatic. But don't try to tell me I'm making mountains out of mole hills. My Facebook account is an integral part of my online identity. It is the core of my virtual persona. Above and beyone any username on any other site, my Facebook profile is the internet me. Having that ripped out from under me is mentally excruciating.
It's like coming home after a long day at work and finding that some stranger changed the locks on all of the doors. I've lived here for years and suddenly I need to validate my ownership? I'm supposed to fish out government-issued IDs, bend over backwards, and then wait while you let min into my own goddamn house in your own sweet time? Bullshit.
My fiance, paragon of logic that he is, tells me that if I'm that upset over this, I should just stop using Facebook. If I don't agree with how they run the site I am free to take my "business" elsewhere. Protest by action, not words. Yes, that is a valid point, but honestly, I can't. Like I said before, my Facebook profile is the essence of my virtual identity. Perhaps if I were a more casual user, I would just shut it down and walk away non the worse. But for me, my online life is as important (if not more so) than my physical existance.
This whole ordeal leaves me with a nasty taste in my mouth and a deep-seated feeling of disgust. The worst of it is that I'm powerless to do anything about it because I won't leave the site. All I can do is play by the rules of the system, no matter how unfair that might be.
I suppose life isn't fair, online or off.
Loss of identity.
No, I have not been victim to identity theft or anything quite as serious as that, but I have had a part of me taken away by force. Yesterday morning, I tried to log in to Facebook and was greeted by a page informing me that my account was deactivated. Because, "Impersonating anyone or anything is prohibited." And I must authenticate my account in order to reactivate it.
Hold the fucking phone.
I have done absolutely nothing to ever indicate that my account is fake. Obviously, because it's not. I have dozens of blog posts, hundreds of photos of myself, countless twitter and status updates, NOT TO MENTION all of my real life friends with whom I communicate on a daily basis. This is absolutley RIDICULOUS. I can't possibly describe how upset I am and how violated I feel.
Maybe it seems like I'm being overdramatic. But don't try to tell me I'm making mountains out of mole hills. My Facebook account is an integral part of my online identity. It is the core of my virtual persona. Above and beyone any username on any other site, my Facebook profile is the internet me. Having that ripped out from under me is mentally excruciating.
It's like coming home after a long day at work and finding that some stranger changed the locks on all of the doors. I've lived here for years and suddenly I need to validate my ownership? I'm supposed to fish out government-issued IDs, bend over backwards, and then wait while you let min into my own goddamn house in your own sweet time? Bullshit.
My fiance, paragon of logic that he is, tells me that if I'm that upset over this, I should just stop using Facebook. If I don't agree with how they run the site I am free to take my "business" elsewhere. Protest by action, not words. Yes, that is a valid point, but honestly, I can't. Like I said before, my Facebook profile is the essence of my virtual identity. Perhaps if I were a more casual user, I would just shut it down and walk away non the worse. But for me, my online life is as important (if not more so) than my physical existance.
This whole ordeal leaves me with a nasty taste in my mouth and a deep-seated feeling of disgust. The worst of it is that I'm powerless to do anything about it because I won't leave the site. All I can do is play by the rules of the system, no matter how unfair that might be.
I suppose life isn't fair, online or off.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Professionalism
Surprisingly, I will not be talking about NaNoWriMo today. There is another topic I want to address.
Lately, there have been some issues in my place of work. And not minor issues, either; we've had some pretty serious breaches of protocol. It has been weighing on my mind heavily for the past couple weeks. What this all really has me thinking about is this:
What has happened to professionalism?
Most likely, my experience is an anomaly. Obviously, I don't know what it is like in other companies. I couldn't possibly generalize and say that this is a wide-spread problem throughout the national workforce, not with a conscious and an obligation to accuracy. However. Anecdotal evidence from my peers leads me to believe that this is a growing trend, at least amongst my age group. Maybe not even a growing trend; perhaps this has been plaguing my generation for a while and I'm only just now noticing it. Either way, it is very disconcerting. I am seriously concerned about the future of our businesses, especially how they relate to the global market.
The biggest problem I've seen is an inability to separate personal relationships from professional relationships; personal life from professional life. Now, I know that the ol' "leave your emotions at the door" mantra isn't realistic. I can say from personal experience that it is unreasonable to expect any employee to be able to turn off their feelings until their shift is over. It's a nice idea, but completely unrealistic.
That's not to say that is is impossible to compartmentalize to some degree. A criticism of work performance is not a personal attack. Informing an employee that they need to change the way they do their assigned duties or improve their work performance in some way is NOT the same as saying "You suck, you are stupid, you are a bad person, nobody likes you." For WHATEVER reason, some people seem to get these confused. Which is RIDICULOUS. Pitching a fit and causing an uproar about something like that is unprofessional and, honestly, it's pathetic. It goes back tot he selfishness of childhood. Throwing a tantrum over legitimate criticism from a superior is a quick way to tell your employer that you don't really want your job.
At least, it should be. Sadly, it seems to me (and yes, I realize that putting this online and attaching my name to it could jeopardize my own professional standing), that in the company I work for there is a tendency to cater to the tantrum-thrower rather than back up the policy-enforcer they are throwing the tantrum over.
I have witnessed blatant disrespect for management, disregard for company policy, and (worst of all) the highest levels of authority turning a blind eye to it rather than instating disciplinary actions. The form of discipline preferred by upper-management is passive-aggressive pressuring and needling in order to try to get the errant employee to quit. I am dumbfounded by the absolute black hole of professionalism here. And I am not afraid to say this out loud, since I know that even if one of my superiors saw this and actually said something about it to me, at worst it would be a slap on the wrist. What I'm doing here isn't very professional either. In fact, I would say it borders on disrespect for the company and for the people who run it. I would LOVE it if they made an example of me. At least then they would be proving me wrong.
I am not just ranting into the nether here. This is a subject I have brought up to my coworkers and to upper-management. The response? Avoidance. I have been brushed off more times than I can count. In the business world there IS going to be confrontation. That is inevitable. A business cannot be run by people who are utterly avoidant of confrontation. It is something that needs to be dealt with, swift and decisively.
Yet, this really accomplishes nothing. My writing, that is. Because things will continue on they way they are no matter what I say here and they will continue on after I have moved on in my career. I know I have painted an unflattering picture here. The people I work for are good people, and regardless of how deteriorated the employee/employer interactions may be, we do a good job and serve our clients above and beyond what would be expected. Fortunately, the internal problems we have do not impact the quality of our care to a large degree.
It does impact my opinion of the company and the people I work with, though. And I have to say, right now I am not very impressed. All I can do is keep doing my job well and try to lead by setting a good example. Who knows? Maybe if I keep acting in a courteous, mature, and thoughtful manner befitting of my job title, perhaps others will follow suit. Either way, five years from now I know that I will have moved on to my chosen career of accounting and it will be an issue for someone else to deal with.
Let's just try to keep things professional here.
Lately, there have been some issues in my place of work. And not minor issues, either; we've had some pretty serious breaches of protocol. It has been weighing on my mind heavily for the past couple weeks. What this all really has me thinking about is this:
What has happened to professionalism?
Most likely, my experience is an anomaly. Obviously, I don't know what it is like in other companies. I couldn't possibly generalize and say that this is a wide-spread problem throughout the national workforce, not with a conscious and an obligation to accuracy. However. Anecdotal evidence from my peers leads me to believe that this is a growing trend, at least amongst my age group. Maybe not even a growing trend; perhaps this has been plaguing my generation for a while and I'm only just now noticing it. Either way, it is very disconcerting. I am seriously concerned about the future of our businesses, especially how they relate to the global market.
The biggest problem I've seen is an inability to separate personal relationships from professional relationships; personal life from professional life. Now, I know that the ol' "leave your emotions at the door" mantra isn't realistic. I can say from personal experience that it is unreasonable to expect any employee to be able to turn off their feelings until their shift is over. It's a nice idea, but completely unrealistic.
That's not to say that is is impossible to compartmentalize to some degree. A criticism of work performance is not a personal attack. Informing an employee that they need to change the way they do their assigned duties or improve their work performance in some way is NOT the same as saying "You suck, you are stupid, you are a bad person, nobody likes you." For WHATEVER reason, some people seem to get these confused. Which is RIDICULOUS. Pitching a fit and causing an uproar about something like that is unprofessional and, honestly, it's pathetic. It goes back tot he selfishness of childhood. Throwing a tantrum over legitimate criticism from a superior is a quick way to tell your employer that you don't really want your job.
At least, it should be. Sadly, it seems to me (and yes, I realize that putting this online and attaching my name to it could jeopardize my own professional standing), that in the company I work for there is a tendency to cater to the tantrum-thrower rather than back up the policy-enforcer they are throwing the tantrum over.
I have witnessed blatant disrespect for management, disregard for company policy, and (worst of all) the highest levels of authority turning a blind eye to it rather than instating disciplinary actions. The form of discipline preferred by upper-management is passive-aggressive pressuring and needling in order to try to get the errant employee to quit. I am dumbfounded by the absolute black hole of professionalism here. And I am not afraid to say this out loud, since I know that even if one of my superiors saw this and actually said something about it to me, at worst it would be a slap on the wrist. What I'm doing here isn't very professional either. In fact, I would say it borders on disrespect for the company and for the people who run it. I would LOVE it if they made an example of me. At least then they would be proving me wrong.
I am not just ranting into the nether here. This is a subject I have brought up to my coworkers and to upper-management. The response? Avoidance. I have been brushed off more times than I can count. In the business world there IS going to be confrontation. That is inevitable. A business cannot be run by people who are utterly avoidant of confrontation. It is something that needs to be dealt with, swift and decisively.
Yet, this really accomplishes nothing. My writing, that is. Because things will continue on they way they are no matter what I say here and they will continue on after I have moved on in my career. I know I have painted an unflattering picture here. The people I work for are good people, and regardless of how deteriorated the employee/employer interactions may be, we do a good job and serve our clients above and beyond what would be expected. Fortunately, the internal problems we have do not impact the quality of our care to a large degree.
It does impact my opinion of the company and the people I work with, though. And I have to say, right now I am not very impressed. All I can do is keep doing my job well and try to lead by setting a good example. Who knows? Maybe if I keep acting in a courteous, mature, and thoughtful manner befitting of my job title, perhaps others will follow suit. Either way, five years from now I know that I will have moved on to my chosen career of accounting and it will be an issue for someone else to deal with.
Let's just try to keep things professional here.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tea Time With Miss Liz
I know I said I wasn't going to be posting very often, but I suppose I'm just unreliable that way. Actually, the thing is that I discovered I love writing on my columnar pad. Makes everything I write look so much cooler. Way better than notebook paper. And I get bored in Accounting I. At least I look like I'm working...
Moving on.
As the days are getting chillier, I'm finally able to enjoy my favorite beverages without bursting into a sweat. I am talking about TEA of course. My favorites are white and green teas, followed by herbal teas, followed by black teas. I tend to brew my black teas a bit weaker and my green teas a touch stronger. I prefer fruit flavored herbals, most of all peach and pomegranate. I love tea.
Thanks to November (yes, I'm going to talk ab out NaNoWriMo again, deal with it) and a general lack of sleep, I've been favoring the more caffeinated black teas for the last few weeks. My current favorite is a spiced apple chai that is absolutely perfect for an early morning drink. If I'm not going to school, then after breakfast I will follow it up with a cup of Darjeeling, which balances out the sweetness of the apple. If I'm going to work in the afternoon, I'll drink earl grey or some spiced chai, both with a little creamer and sugar.
I used to not care for black teas at all, but ever since I learned how to properly prepare it, I've really developed a taste for them. I like to over-steep green tea, but doing that with black tea will make the drink very bitter. I also started using a real tea kettle instead of microwaving the water. It does make a difference in the taste, believe it or not. (I'm not so intense that I use loose tea leaves. I'm writing a novel, I don't have time for luxury. Tea bags are fine for me.) For black tea, bring the water just barely to a boil, remove from heat for a few seconds, then pour over the tea bag. Let steep for no more than 3 to 5 minutes. Squeeze bag to get full flavor and enjoy. I personally don't mind using each bag twice, but I don't mind weak tea.
For green tea, I like the water a little cooler and the tea steeped a little longer (5-6 minutes). Herbal teas fall between the two temperature-wise, but only steeped 3 to 4 minutes. Herbal teas are also the only kind of tea I won't reuse for more than one cup (the bags break too easily).
Well. Now you know all about my tea drinking habits. No doubt it was something you were terribly curious about.
I better quit wasting my time here and get to work on my novel. I'm still thousands of words behind. I'm catching up, though! If I keep plugging away at it like I am, I could be ahead by week three! Fingers crossed!
Look out, November. I am a tea-sipping, word-spouting machine, so get out of my way.
Moving on.
As the days are getting chillier, I'm finally able to enjoy my favorite beverages without bursting into a sweat. I am talking about TEA of course. My favorites are white and green teas, followed by herbal teas, followed by black teas. I tend to brew my black teas a bit weaker and my green teas a touch stronger. I prefer fruit flavored herbals, most of all peach and pomegranate. I love tea.
Thanks to November (yes, I'm going to talk ab out NaNoWriMo again, deal with it) and a general lack of sleep, I've been favoring the more caffeinated black teas for the last few weeks. My current favorite is a spiced apple chai that is absolutely perfect for an early morning drink. If I'm not going to school, then after breakfast I will follow it up with a cup of Darjeeling, which balances out the sweetness of the apple. If I'm going to work in the afternoon, I'll drink earl grey or some spiced chai, both with a little creamer and sugar.
I used to not care for black teas at all, but ever since I learned how to properly prepare it, I've really developed a taste for them. I like to over-steep green tea, but doing that with black tea will make the drink very bitter. I also started using a real tea kettle instead of microwaving the water. It does make a difference in the taste, believe it or not. (I'm not so intense that I use loose tea leaves. I'm writing a novel, I don't have time for luxury. Tea bags are fine for me.) For black tea, bring the water just barely to a boil, remove from heat for a few seconds, then pour over the tea bag. Let steep for no more than 3 to 5 minutes. Squeeze bag to get full flavor and enjoy. I personally don't mind using each bag twice, but I don't mind weak tea.
For green tea, I like the water a little cooler and the tea steeped a little longer (5-6 minutes). Herbal teas fall between the two temperature-wise, but only steeped 3 to 4 minutes. Herbal teas are also the only kind of tea I won't reuse for more than one cup (the bags break too easily).
Well. Now you know all about my tea drinking habits. No doubt it was something you were terribly curious about.
I better quit wasting my time here and get to work on my novel. I'm still thousands of words behind. I'm catching up, though! If I keep plugging away at it like I am, I could be ahead by week three! Fingers crossed!
Look out, November. I am a tea-sipping, word-spouting machine, so get out of my way.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Radio Silence
It's been a while since I've posted anything. I've been pretty exhausted. The first week of November was killer. So much crap went down. I felt like I was barely keeping afloat for a while there, but I already said that in my last (mini) post. I'm WAY behind in my word count for NaNoWriMo (which is why I'll be keeping this short), but I think I can catch up still. I've got school work to worry about, and work-work taking up time, not to mention World of Warcraft...
Gotta prioritize, though.
(As an aside, my tauren druid is now level 42. I'm so excited! That's the highest I've ever gotten! ...uh-oh. I'm gonna have to shell out for Wrath of the Lich King soon, at this rate. And Cataclysm is on the way...gee, I wish I had more money.)
Back to more pressing matters. I.E. NaNo. Oh, it was a rocky start, but now that the boulder is rolling, it's really picking up speed. I think I might just make it this year. Last year, a family crisis destroyed me about half-way through the month and effectively ended NaNoWriMo for me. This year, the same sort of thing threatened, but it's blown over (for the most part). Week One is a wash (4100 out of 11669 words), but all is not yet lost. I'm back on track and my characters are clamoring to be heard. All I need to do now is get out of the way and let the story out.
Well, don't expect much noise outta me for the rest of the month. Between all of my responsibilities and obligations, I barely have time to catch a couple hours of sleep, much less update my blog. But there is a saying that comes to mind at times like this...
(Never mind that I sorta just made it up.)
If you have time to breathe, you have time to write.
Happy noveling, Wrimos.
Gotta prioritize, though.
(As an aside, my tauren druid is now level 42. I'm so excited! That's the highest I've ever gotten! ...uh-oh. I'm gonna have to shell out for Wrath of the Lich King soon, at this rate. And Cataclysm is on the way...gee, I wish I had more money.)
Back to more pressing matters. I.E. NaNo. Oh, it was a rocky start, but now that the boulder is rolling, it's really picking up speed. I think I might just make it this year. Last year, a family crisis destroyed me about half-way through the month and effectively ended NaNoWriMo for me. This year, the same sort of thing threatened, but it's blown over (for the most part). Week One is a wash (4100 out of 11669 words), but all is not yet lost. I'm back on track and my characters are clamoring to be heard. All I need to do now is get out of the way and let the story out.
Well, don't expect much noise outta me for the rest of the month. Between all of my responsibilities and obligations, I barely have time to catch a couple hours of sleep, much less update my blog. But there is a saying that comes to mind at times like this...
(Never mind that I sorta just made it up.)
If you have time to breathe, you have time to write.
Happy noveling, Wrimos.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Too Tired
The last four-five weeks have been rather hellish for me. I'm feeling overwhelmed and overburdened.
I've spent most nights crying.
I'm just trying to hold out until the end of the week...but that's turning into the end of the month, just another month after that...so on and so forth. I don't want to "just cope." I hate just getting by. I want to enjoy my life again.
I might need to work on setting some boundaries. I'm probably overworking myself. Unfortunately, the only things I can really give up (the activities that aren't unavoidable obligations) are things that I do to relax or have fun. Like WoW. Or sleep. =\
I think I'll be okay. (I hope.) But I still don't know what I'm going to do. I haven't got any idea for solving my problem. I just want to be happy again.
I've spent most nights crying.
I'm just trying to hold out until the end of the week...but that's turning into the end of the month, just another month after that...so on and so forth. I don't want to "just cope." I hate just getting by. I want to enjoy my life again.
I might need to work on setting some boundaries. I'm probably overworking myself. Unfortunately, the only things I can really give up (the activities that aren't unavoidable obligations) are things that I do to relax or have fun. Like WoW. Or sleep. =\
I think I'll be okay. (I hope.) But I still don't know what I'm going to do. I haven't got any idea for solving my problem. I just want to be happy again.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Gathering of the Gods...
I know that last time I posted I was oozing about how excited I am for NaNoWriMo, but there is something else huge looming on the horizon even before November 1st...
http://thehouseontherockjournal.blogspot.com/
Yeah, so it's only the coolest thing ever. The Mister and I bought our tickets back in APRIL. I've been practically salivating over this for months. We've got our hotel booked for Friday and Saturday night, we've got driving directions, I'm working on a new mix CD to commemorate the event, and we're gonna start packing tomorrow night. HOLY CRAP IT'S ALL HAPPENING SO FAST. AGH. THERE'S GONNA BE A COSTUME CONTEST, A SCAVENGER HUNT, AND NEIL GAIMON IS GONNA SIGN MY BOOK YEEEEEEEEE!!! Ooh, I wanna ride the carousel SO BAD. pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease--
*Ahem*
On the subject of the Gathering, I love Neil Gaimon's writing. I own almost all of his books. American Gods is probably my second favorite text ever (after William Gibson's Pattern Recognition). If you haven't read it yet, GO. Get out right now and check it out from a library, buy a copy from the bookstore, whatever. Just go read it. If you enjoy stories about mystery, action, intrigue, strange prophetic dreams, comedy, tragedy, mythology, old gods, new gods, wars, love, grifters, or any and all of the above, then you will enjoy this book. Incredibly interesting and fun characters, an engrossing plotline, and fabulous prose make this one an all-star winner. Seriously.
((Czernobog is my favorite character. Even if it is only because of his awesome name.))
Okay, I'm done gushing. I am just SO PUMPED for this weekend. Not only will it be an incredible experience, but it's the perfect way to rush myself into November. I'll be so electrified from The House on the Rock that my creative juices are gonna spill all over the place. I'll be taking a ZILLION pictures. Those alone will be my muse throughout the coming month. I'm literally making a face like: =D
You can't even imagine that. My face looks exactly like that. Whoa.
We've still got plenty of planning to do (food, what to wear, itinerary, etc...), not to mention the pile of homework I've got shifting unsteadily on the table beside me, PLUS last minute NaNo stuff, so the stress is starting to wear me down. I'm coming down with a cold...but I went out and bought a bunch of vitamins, I'm making an effort to cut back on WoW in order to get enough sleep, and I'm getting James to play therapist in order to keep the stress under control. Nothing will ruin this weekend for me. NOTHING. Dammit.
This Halloween is going to be unforgettable.
http://thehouseontherockjournal.blogspot.com/
Neil Gaiman American Gods Gathering
Yeah, so it's only the coolest thing ever. The Mister and I bought our tickets back in APRIL. I've been practically salivating over this for months. We've got our hotel booked for Friday and Saturday night, we've got driving directions, I'm working on a new mix CD to commemorate the event, and we're gonna start packing tomorrow night. HOLY CRAP IT'S ALL HAPPENING SO FAST. AGH. THERE'S GONNA BE A COSTUME CONTEST, A SCAVENGER HUNT, AND NEIL GAIMON IS GONNA SIGN MY BOOK YEEEEEEEEE!!! Ooh, I wanna ride the carousel SO BAD. pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease--
*Ahem*
On the subject of the Gathering, I love Neil Gaimon's writing. I own almost all of his books. American Gods is probably my second favorite text ever (after William Gibson's Pattern Recognition). If you haven't read it yet, GO. Get out right now and check it out from a library, buy a copy from the bookstore, whatever. Just go read it. If you enjoy stories about mystery, action, intrigue, strange prophetic dreams, comedy, tragedy, mythology, old gods, new gods, wars, love, grifters, or any and all of the above, then you will enjoy this book. Incredibly interesting and fun characters, an engrossing plotline, and fabulous prose make this one an all-star winner. Seriously.
((Czernobog is my favorite character. Even if it is only because of his awesome name.))
Okay, I'm done gushing. I am just SO PUMPED for this weekend. Not only will it be an incredible experience, but it's the perfect way to rush myself into November. I'll be so electrified from The House on the Rock that my creative juices are gonna spill all over the place. I'll be taking a ZILLION pictures. Those alone will be my muse throughout the coming month. I'm literally making a face like: =D
You can't even imagine that. My face looks exactly like that. Whoa.
We've still got plenty of planning to do (food, what to wear, itinerary, etc...), not to mention the pile of homework I've got shifting unsteadily on the table beside me, PLUS last minute NaNo stuff, so the stress is starting to wear me down. I'm coming down with a cold...but I went out and bought a bunch of vitamins, I'm making an effort to cut back on WoW in order to get enough sleep, and I'm getting James to play therapist in order to keep the stress under control. Nothing will ruin this weekend for me. NOTHING. Dammit.
This Halloween is going to be unforgettable.
Monday, October 25, 2010
November Lurches Nearer...
Normally, I write a first draft on paper before I type these up and post them, but today, I'm flying freehand. Living on the edge! Danger's the name, and blogging's the game.
That would have been so much cooler if you could hear me saying it in my Pacino voice.
Down to business. We are six (count 'em, SIX) days away from November 1st, Day One of NaNoWriMo 2010. I'm so excited, I might wet myself. I will, of course, do my best not to.
Earlier this month NaNo CONSUMED me. I've got pages and pages of research, piles of books checked out from the library, scores of interviews collected mucking about in messy spreadsheets. But suddenly, I've lost steam. Less than a week to go, and I can't bring myself to crack open another text book. I've quite dogging people for firsthand accounts. I haven't even checked my EMAIL. What is wrong with me?
I've got the pre-November jitters. Cold feet. I'm fah-REAKIN' out.
I had such epic plans for this past weekend. I was supposed to have put the finishing touches on my NaNo prep in order to sail into the first week like a hot iron on a bed of butter. Now I'm going to spend this week frantically playing catch up, scrambling to make sure all of the arrangements have been made and I have everything I need.
Honestly, though? This is pretty standard for me. I think I've actually done much better this year compared to past NaNoWriMo's. I actually have a proper outline this time. That in itself is an accomplishment. This panic-panic-panic is par for the course, going by every other time I've done this. It's the darkest hour before the dawn. The calm before the storm. The silence before the very first chord! I already know that I'm going to get myself wound up like a spring and end up having a breakdown October 31st. But as soon as midnight rolls around, everything will suddenly click into place. The gears will start a-churning and soon words will be flying out of me so fast, the room will spin!
You'd think that since I know this, I shouldn't be having palpitations right now.
Anyways, what I'm working my way around to here (in the most round-about way possible) is that I'm gonna need some SERIOUS support next month. I'm talking hovering-over-me-with-a-defibrillator kind of support. Someone needs to be pumping my veins full of tea (none of that decaf stuff, dangit) and someone needs to be kicking the back of my chair every time I start to wander away from the word processor and over to FaceBook. Any takers? Eh, James will be doing most of that for me, but I will need people to meet up with me at coffee shops and tea houses to "socialize" with. And by socialize, I mean sit near while I tik-tak away at the keyboard, occasionally wiping the froth from my mouth.
What I REALLY need, though, REALLY REALLY REALLY NEED is for a lot of people to promise to mock me endlessly if I do not complete my novel this year. Make me weep. Torment me, seriously. I need everyone around me to know that I am committed to finishing this year. That way, if I don't, I can't slink off quietly to the corner to lick my wounds and whimper to myself. Publicizing something like this is the ultimate leverage against myself. Sure, it'll be hard to do 50k words in a month, but it will be harder facing the world if I fail. One of my biggest flaws? Pride. Yes, I know. That's why I'm turning my weakness into a strength, using my pride against me. If I build myself up enough, I'll have no choice but to follow through. Clever, huh?
OH yeaaaaaah. So clever. So good. ohgodi'mgonnadiewhycan'tikeepmymouthshut. Blarghlfargh.
Well, here is my personal NaNoWriMo profile: http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/179661
Click around, check out my stuff. (I've got a little halo over my pic because I donated money to the program! Everyone should do this! Makes the feel-good-feelings flow!)
Under the "Novel Info" tab is a synopsis of my novel-to-be. For those of you too lazy to check out my profile, here is the copypasta:
At least, that's what she thought. Until her period never comes. Until she realizes that she's made the biggest mistake ever (which is certainly impressive, considering her less than stellar life decisions up until this point). She's finally proved to everyone that she is just as big of a loser as her parents say. Abandoned by family and friends alike, Nana feels trapped by the creature growing in her belly.
Yet, just as Nana thinks she can cope with a baby, tragedy strikes. Having truly lost it all, she cannot comprehend moving forward. Out of tragedy comes hope, however, in the form of a single mother and her autistic son. Is this Nana's chance to atone for her mistakes?
Is blood really thicker than water, or do the ties that bind have a substance entirely their own? Nanette's struggle to change the life of a young boy trapped in suffering for the better might just be her only chance to save herself...
Pretty spiffy, eh? Well, it's certainly not perfect (I'm not even sure it's a very good description of what I'm planning to write), but it will do until December.
I'm so excited for this. Did I mention that already?
Hmm. I think just writing this post might have rekindled that November-passion a little bit. I might put in a bit more work polishing up that outline today.
That would have been so much cooler if you could hear me saying it in my Pacino voice.
Down to business. We are six (count 'em, SIX) days away from November 1st, Day One of NaNoWriMo 2010. I'm so excited, I might wet myself. I will, of course, do my best not to.
Earlier this month NaNo CONSUMED me. I've got pages and pages of research, piles of books checked out from the library, scores of interviews collected mucking about in messy spreadsheets. But suddenly, I've lost steam. Less than a week to go, and I can't bring myself to crack open another text book. I've quite dogging people for firsthand accounts. I haven't even checked my EMAIL. What is wrong with me?
I've got the pre-November jitters. Cold feet. I'm fah-REAKIN' out.
I had such epic plans for this past weekend. I was supposed to have put the finishing touches on my NaNo prep in order to sail into the first week like a hot iron on a bed of butter. Now I'm going to spend this week frantically playing catch up, scrambling to make sure all of the arrangements have been made and I have everything I need.
Honestly, though? This is pretty standard for me. I think I've actually done much better this year compared to past NaNoWriMo's. I actually have a proper outline this time. That in itself is an accomplishment. This panic-panic-panic is par for the course, going by every other time I've done this. It's the darkest hour before the dawn. The calm before the storm. The silence before the very first chord! I already know that I'm going to get myself wound up like a spring and end up having a breakdown October 31st. But as soon as midnight rolls around, everything will suddenly click into place. The gears will start a-churning and soon words will be flying out of me so fast, the room will spin!
You'd think that since I know this, I shouldn't be having palpitations right now.
Anyways, what I'm working my way around to here (in the most round-about way possible) is that I'm gonna need some SERIOUS support next month. I'm talking hovering-over-me-with-a-defibrillator kind of support. Someone needs to be pumping my veins full of tea (none of that decaf stuff, dangit) and someone needs to be kicking the back of my chair every time I start to wander away from the word processor and over to FaceBook. Any takers? Eh, James will be doing most of that for me, but I will need people to meet up with me at coffee shops and tea houses to "socialize" with. And by socialize, I mean sit near while I tik-tak away at the keyboard, occasionally wiping the froth from my mouth.
What I REALLY need, though, REALLY REALLY REALLY NEED is for a lot of people to promise to mock me endlessly if I do not complete my novel this year. Make me weep. Torment me, seriously. I need everyone around me to know that I am committed to finishing this year. That way, if I don't, I can't slink off quietly to the corner to lick my wounds and whimper to myself. Publicizing something like this is the ultimate leverage against myself. Sure, it'll be hard to do 50k words in a month, but it will be harder facing the world if I fail. One of my biggest flaws? Pride. Yes, I know. That's why I'm turning my weakness into a strength, using my pride against me. If I build myself up enough, I'll have no choice but to follow through. Clever, huh?
OH yeaaaaaah. So clever. So good. ohgodi'mgonnadiewhycan'tikeepmymouthshut. Blarghlfargh.
Well, here is my personal NaNoWriMo profile: http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/user/179661
Click around, check out my stuff. (I've got a little halo over my pic because I donated money to the program! Everyone should do this! Makes the feel-good-feelings flow!)
Under the "Novel Info" tab is a synopsis of my novel-to-be. For those of you too lazy to check out my profile, here is the copypasta:
Synopsis: Thicker Than Water
Lying next to Mike, the coolest guy in her class, Nanette thought she was doing okay. Sure she didn't have a job, or a car, or even passing grades, but she's in with the popular group. Too bad she had to put out to get there, but what's a little bodily fluids in exchange for the attention she has always deserved?At least, that's what she thought. Until her period never comes. Until she realizes that she's made the biggest mistake ever (which is certainly impressive, considering her less than stellar life decisions up until this point). She's finally proved to everyone that she is just as big of a loser as her parents say. Abandoned by family and friends alike, Nana feels trapped by the creature growing in her belly.
Yet, just as Nana thinks she can cope with a baby, tragedy strikes. Having truly lost it all, she cannot comprehend moving forward. Out of tragedy comes hope, however, in the form of a single mother and her autistic son. Is this Nana's chance to atone for her mistakes?
Is blood really thicker than water, or do the ties that bind have a substance entirely their own? Nanette's struggle to change the life of a young boy trapped in suffering for the better might just be her only chance to save herself...
Pretty spiffy, eh? Well, it's certainly not perfect (I'm not even sure it's a very good description of what I'm planning to write), but it will do until December.
I'm so excited for this. Did I mention that already?
Hmm. I think just writing this post might have rekindled that November-passion a little bit. I might put in a bit more work polishing up that outline today.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Dabbling
Well, I guess accounting is my muse, because this is the third day in a row that I have been inspired to "blog" during my early class. (Woo, pen and paper.) In the words of my fabulous teacher, "I have a passion for accounting!" But she says it with a Brazilian accent, so it actually sounds pretty sexy. I do enjoy making spreadsheets and organizing accounts, doing adjusting and closing entries, journalizing...
I am a nerd.
Which brings me to my topic today: I'm not a very good nerd.
I like video games, but only a few, specific kinds. I don't have the attention span for D'n'D or other similarly long games. I get bored easily and hate having to work (research, plan, crunch numbers) in order to play. I'm really not social enough for LARPing and I quickly lose interest in post-based roleplays (again, going back to the attention span issue). It has taken me a long time to come to terms with all of this. I've tried for years to get on the level of my "uber-nerd" friends, but it always ends badly.
I've got my fingers in too many pies. (Heh, heh...oh, immaturity.)
I like to do a little bit of everything, rather than committing to just a few hobbies. I dabble, if you will. I enjoy trying new things and learning new skills, but I never progress very far beyond the beginning stages. Starting out is exciting. The daily grind required to get really good is...not. That's why I have many World of Warcraft characters, but none over level 25.
I'm sorry, my nerd-friends. I'm just not really one of you. I've tried. But I'm never going to get farther than the fringes.
The benefit of this, however, is that I have a HUGE variety of friends with whom I share interests. I'm not great at juggling these friends (usually I'll be heavily involved with one group for a few weeks, then I'll switch to something else), but it sure keeps things lively! I love how far my circles of contact extend. I meet so many interesting people this way. It's fun, never boring, and when I get tired of one hobby, I can just pick something else up for a while.
I'll probably never have a bunch of level 80s in WoW. (Who knows if I'll ever even have one!) And I'll never unlock every item in Little Big Planet. And I'll most likely never become a famous guitar player. But I will get to hang out with a lot of really cool people and have a great time dipping my toes in every pool I come across.
I'm just a nerd-of-all-trades.
I am a nerd.
Which brings me to my topic today: I'm not a very good nerd.
I like video games, but only a few, specific kinds. I don't have the attention span for D'n'D or other similarly long games. I get bored easily and hate having to work (research, plan, crunch numbers) in order to play. I'm really not social enough for LARPing and I quickly lose interest in post-based roleplays (again, going back to the attention span issue). It has taken me a long time to come to terms with all of this. I've tried for years to get on the level of my "uber-nerd" friends, but it always ends badly.
I've got my fingers in too many pies. (Heh, heh...oh, immaturity.)
I like to do a little bit of everything, rather than committing to just a few hobbies. I dabble, if you will. I enjoy trying new things and learning new skills, but I never progress very far beyond the beginning stages. Starting out is exciting. The daily grind required to get really good is...not. That's why I have many World of Warcraft characters, but none over level 25.
I'm sorry, my nerd-friends. I'm just not really one of you. I've tried. But I'm never going to get farther than the fringes.
The benefit of this, however, is that I have a HUGE variety of friends with whom I share interests. I'm not great at juggling these friends (usually I'll be heavily involved with one group for a few weeks, then I'll switch to something else), but it sure keeps things lively! I love how far my circles of contact extend. I meet so many interesting people this way. It's fun, never boring, and when I get tired of one hobby, I can just pick something else up for a while.
I'll probably never have a bunch of level 80s in WoW. (Who knows if I'll ever even have one!) And I'll never unlock every item in Little Big Planet. And I'll most likely never become a famous guitar player. But I will get to hang out with a lot of really cool people and have a great time dipping my toes in every pool I come across.
I'm just a nerd-of-all-trades.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Recurring Dream - Lessons On Regret
I have this recurring dream. Actually, most of my dreams are recurring. I'm the type to obsess over something; replaying it endlessly in my head, never satisfied with how it turns out. But I digress...
So, I had this dream last night. In this dream, I am just turning 21. I'm out drinking with my friends, getting utterly wasted, but I'm miserable. The more I drink, the more depressed I feel and the more self-loathing I feel (familiar territory, there...). Somehow I manage to get back to my apartment and I pass out on my bed. As I drop on the mattress, my last thoughts are about how many regrets I have and how pathetic my life is.
I wake up (in the dream) and it's 7 years earlier. I'm in my old bed at my mom's house. I FREAK the fuck OUT. Apparently, my mind has leaped backwards in time by 7 years, back to the day after my 14th birthday.
I won't bore you with the dull minutia, but essentially, the plot is that I have to relive high school. Only this time I have the brain of my 21 year old self, all grown up and self-knowledgeable. I get to do things "the right way." I say all of the things I've always wished I had said, I do all of the things I regret never doing. And it feels FAN-TAS-TIC.
Until things start to go wrong. Like the main character in any time-travel story, I start getting cocky. I try to abuse my knowledge of the future. Of course, as soon as I start doing that, events begin to diverge from what I "remember." Everything spirals out of my control and some pretty terrible things end up happening. All because of me.
It's one of those moral-of-the-story type dreams.
My dream-self learns that trying to manipulate people is wrong and that I should have appreciated the way my life turned out the first time. The dream progresses to me graduating, my life completely different from how I meant it to turn out. I'm an emotional wreck. I ruin my chance to meet my (future) fiance, I lose a lot of friends, and the entire course of my future is heading into uncharted territory (resulting in a paralyzing fear). I can't get anything back the way I think they should be and I've become hopelessly lost in sorrow.
I go to sleep on the night of my 18th birthday contemplating suicide and...wake up 21 again. It had all been a dream (within the dream). ((Oooh, how meta!)) My lesson learned, I can now go about enjoying life to the fullest and living free of regrets.
Wow, my subconscious is preachy. Thank goodness not all my dreams are like that. Yuck.
But, my brain has a point. And it is an attitude I do try to maintain. Sure, not everything has gone the way I would have wanted, but every step I've taken has led me to where I am today. Even the steps that seemed like I was wandering aimlessly. Even though I really hate those corny moral-at-the-end stories, I guess I can appreciate that my brain is trying to tell me to ease up on myself. No need to keep kicking myself over "could've-beens." It's just not worth wasting my time on.
Thanks, brain. I love you, too.
So, I had this dream last night. In this dream, I am just turning 21. I'm out drinking with my friends, getting utterly wasted, but I'm miserable. The more I drink, the more depressed I feel and the more self-loathing I feel (familiar territory, there...). Somehow I manage to get back to my apartment and I pass out on my bed. As I drop on the mattress, my last thoughts are about how many regrets I have and how pathetic my life is.
I wake up (in the dream) and it's 7 years earlier. I'm in my old bed at my mom's house. I FREAK the fuck OUT. Apparently, my mind has leaped backwards in time by 7 years, back to the day after my 14th birthday.
I won't bore you with the dull minutia, but essentially, the plot is that I have to relive high school. Only this time I have the brain of my 21 year old self, all grown up and self-knowledgeable. I get to do things "the right way." I say all of the things I've always wished I had said, I do all of the things I regret never doing. And it feels FAN-TAS-TIC.
Until things start to go wrong. Like the main character in any time-travel story, I start getting cocky. I try to abuse my knowledge of the future. Of course, as soon as I start doing that, events begin to diverge from what I "remember." Everything spirals out of my control and some pretty terrible things end up happening. All because of me.
It's one of those moral-of-the-story type dreams.
My dream-self learns that trying to manipulate people is wrong and that I should have appreciated the way my life turned out the first time. The dream progresses to me graduating, my life completely different from how I meant it to turn out. I'm an emotional wreck. I ruin my chance to meet my (future) fiance, I lose a lot of friends, and the entire course of my future is heading into uncharted territory (resulting in a paralyzing fear). I can't get anything back the way I think they should be and I've become hopelessly lost in sorrow.
I go to sleep on the night of my 18th birthday contemplating suicide and...wake up 21 again. It had all been a dream (within the dream). ((Oooh, how meta!)) My lesson learned, I can now go about enjoying life to the fullest and living free of regrets.
Wow, my subconscious is preachy. Thank goodness not all my dreams are like that. Yuck.
But, my brain has a point. And it is an attitude I do try to maintain. Sure, not everything has gone the way I would have wanted, but every step I've taken has led me to where I am today. Even the steps that seemed like I was wandering aimlessly. Even though I really hate those corny moral-at-the-end stories, I guess I can appreciate that my brain is trying to tell me to ease up on myself. No need to keep kicking myself over "could've-beens." It's just not worth wasting my time on.
Thanks, brain. I love you, too.
Anxiety
Well, this is about the time of year I get in the mood to start blogging again. It’s the urge to write as November nears. Patience is not my strong suite. Obviously. The last two weeks of October are especially difficult. By this time, I’ve got my plot outlined, I’m researching information, I’m setting up my writing space… It’s like putting presents under the Christmas Tree two weeks early and telling the kid that they can’t be opened yet. Torture.
Most of the time, the urge is strongest when it’s the most inappropriate. I’m writing this in my Accounting I class with pen and paper, to be typed up later, for example. The closer I get to November, the less able I am to focus on school. It’s like…my entire High School career. All over again.
But this is quite the double-edged sword.
I am a “good girl.” I feel guilty if I don’t do my very best on everything I should. I feel guilty if I don’t apply myself to my full potential. That’s not to say I always do so, but I do feel guilty for not. And it’s not the itchy-in-the-back-of-my-mind kind of guilty. It’s the sick-to-my-stomach, panic attack inducing, bees-in-my-bones kind of guilty.
Here is a recent example of this phenomenon:
I have a nearly perfect score in my Accounting class. Last week, I took a “mental health” day. I didn’t realize that I was skipping on the day of the chapter test (Friday) until late Sunday night. Instant nausea. I dreaded having to face my teacher come Monday. EVEN THOUGH I knew that at the end of the semester, she is going to throw out the lowest test grade, so missing the test is not going to affect my final grade whatsoever. I was so upset, I never wanted to go back to class ever again. I wanted to curl up and hide for the whole next week! All because of a little guilt over skipping and missing a test (which won’t affect my grade). Seems ridiculous, right? Ah, but that is the nature of my anxiety.
A miniscule amount of stress generalizes to everything associated with the event which caused it. Being worried about being scolded for missing a test turns into AHGAWD I can’t even drive to school without hyperventilating. The act of walking to the building has me shaking so hard that I can’t unzip my jacket. I’m pouring sweat, my heart is pounding, and there’s a rushing in my ears that drowns out every other sound. At this point, if a single person so much as looks at me funny, I’ll probably turn right around and make a mad dash for my car and hunch into the fetal position in the backseat.
AND it escalates. Intellectually, I know I’m being ridiculous and that there is no need for all the dramatics. I can’t control what I feel, though, and my frustration only intensifies the effects. Soon, I’m a quivering pile of jello, about to burst into tears.
This happens roughly 2-3 times a week. Sometimes I can calm down in just a few hours, sometimes it lasts all day. Most of the time, it doesn’t matter whether or not I can calm down, because I have responsibilities to attend to, like my job.
I have coping methods. I have ways to make it through the bad days. But I’m miserable. Sometimes it makes me physically ill. That won’t change the fact that the rest of the world simply won’t stop just because I can’t handle life.
I’ve gotten plenty of advice from people, telling me to “try to ignore it.” Really? REALLY?? If I could just ignore it, don’t you think I WOULD? Yes, I realize that my paranoia of being judged and subsequently rejected by people and “attacked” is baseless and completely unfounded. I KNOW that. Doesn’t make it any more possible to ignore.
Here, why don’t you try this: go get yourself a giant spider. Find the most disgusting looking one, the hairiest, scariest spider you can imagine. Now set it on the back of your neck. Feel it crawling around, poking and itching. IGNORE IT. You’re fine, you know it won’t bite you, you know it can’t do anything to you…
So, how’s that working for ya? Can you ignore it? Or do you feel the undeniable urge to shriek and flail, knocking it away? Now spend the rest of the day like that. Feel like you’re going insane yet? Yeah, that’s what it’s like.
So, don’t tell me to try to ignore it. Or I might just slip a spider under your collar.
Most of the time, the urge is strongest when it’s the most inappropriate. I’m writing this in my Accounting I class with pen and paper, to be typed up later, for example. The closer I get to November, the less able I am to focus on school. It’s like…my entire High School career. All over again.
But this is quite the double-edged sword.
I am a “good girl.” I feel guilty if I don’t do my very best on everything I should. I feel guilty if I don’t apply myself to my full potential. That’s not to say I always do so, but I do feel guilty for not. And it’s not the itchy-in-the-back-of-my-mind kind of guilty. It’s the sick-to-my-stomach, panic attack inducing, bees-in-my-bones kind of guilty.
Here is a recent example of this phenomenon:
I have a nearly perfect score in my Accounting class. Last week, I took a “mental health” day. I didn’t realize that I was skipping on the day of the chapter test (Friday) until late Sunday night. Instant nausea. I dreaded having to face my teacher come Monday. EVEN THOUGH I knew that at the end of the semester, she is going to throw out the lowest test grade, so missing the test is not going to affect my final grade whatsoever. I was so upset, I never wanted to go back to class ever again. I wanted to curl up and hide for the whole next week! All because of a little guilt over skipping and missing a test (which won’t affect my grade). Seems ridiculous, right? Ah, but that is the nature of my anxiety.
A miniscule amount of stress generalizes to everything associated with the event which caused it. Being worried about being scolded for missing a test turns into AHGAWD I can’t even drive to school without hyperventilating. The act of walking to the building has me shaking so hard that I can’t unzip my jacket. I’m pouring sweat, my heart is pounding, and there’s a rushing in my ears that drowns out every other sound. At this point, if a single person so much as looks at me funny, I’ll probably turn right around and make a mad dash for my car and hunch into the fetal position in the backseat.
AND it escalates. Intellectually, I know I’m being ridiculous and that there is no need for all the dramatics. I can’t control what I feel, though, and my frustration only intensifies the effects. Soon, I’m a quivering pile of jello, about to burst into tears.
This happens roughly 2-3 times a week. Sometimes I can calm down in just a few hours, sometimes it lasts all day. Most of the time, it doesn’t matter whether or not I can calm down, because I have responsibilities to attend to, like my job.
I have coping methods. I have ways to make it through the bad days. But I’m miserable. Sometimes it makes me physically ill. That won’t change the fact that the rest of the world simply won’t stop just because I can’t handle life.
I’ve gotten plenty of advice from people, telling me to “try to ignore it.” Really? REALLY?? If I could just ignore it, don’t you think I WOULD? Yes, I realize that my paranoia of being judged and subsequently rejected by people and “attacked” is baseless and completely unfounded. I KNOW that. Doesn’t make it any more possible to ignore.
Here, why don’t you try this: go get yourself a giant spider. Find the most disgusting looking one, the hairiest, scariest spider you can imagine. Now set it on the back of your neck. Feel it crawling around, poking and itching. IGNORE IT. You’re fine, you know it won’t bite you, you know it can’t do anything to you…
So, how’s that working for ya? Can you ignore it? Or do you feel the undeniable urge to shriek and flail, knocking it away? Now spend the rest of the day like that. Feel like you’re going insane yet? Yeah, that’s what it’s like.
So, don’t tell me to try to ignore it. Or I might just slip a spider under your collar.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)