I've never been one to put up with much. I'm not afraid to stand up for myself and God help you if you go after someone I care about. I consider myself to be pretty easy going; I don't take myself particularly seriously. But like anyone, I have certain hot button topics. They've definitely been whittled down as I've gotten older but some are still there.
There's this prevalent culture today that being friends means teasing each other, and I'm okay with that. Witty banter in which you poke fun at yourself as well as your friends can be a lot of fun. But there are lines. Some are general lines that you shouldn't cross until you know the people well and you know they won't be offended and some are individual to a specific person. We all have baggage that has changed us or scarred us in some way. Friends know those boundaries and respect them.
So at what point do you give up on someone? That guy in the group who doesn't hesitate to cross the line if he thinks it'll get a laugh. Who's so casually cruel and revels in the power of being able to upset people. It's mind-boggling to me that anyone can have such callous disregard for people's feelings.
As you might guess, I have someone very specific in mind here. I'm not saying that he's an egomaniacal sociopath* but I just don't understand. He's very smart and witty and funny and most of the time he's relatively inoffensive. But every once in awhile he'll sucker punch someone where he knows it'll hurt most just to get a laugh. It's appalling but people laugh as long as they weren't the target. And if the person looks upset or actually says something to him he just laughs and apologizes like it wasn't a big deal.
I just don't get it. Maybe I'm being overly sensitive, but I don't really think I am.
Over a year ago, a few months after I first met this guy, was the first incident. I didn't know him very well at all (we just had mutual friends), but he ended up calling me fat twice in less than 24 hours. The first time I let it go because he was drunk, but the second time I told him it wasn't okay with me in a pleasant non-confrontational way. My mistake was saying the phrase "That's two." To which his immediate response was to lean in my face and scream "FAT!" I don't really remember what I said after that but I had a smile on my face and tears in my tears through the conversation.**
The thing is, I normally wouldn't care much if someone joked about it, but I was at a low point and wasn't feeling great about myself so it really dug in. Besides which, this guy didn't know me well enough to have any idea whether I could take that kind of joke. As a general rule, you don't tease girls about being fat.
Since then, I got to know him better. I listened to him talk about his break-up when he was really upset because no one else would listen because he was essentially an idiot. He on occasion asked me questions about my life that went beyond the usual surface-y party chit chat. I would have listed him as one of my good friends.
A few months ago, he threw out a joke about me being fat again. That time after he did it, I had a long conversation with him about why it isn't okay to say things that you know will hurt people. He countered with that he's smarter than other people so he pushes buttons to make them become better people because he can see what they need to work on and they can't. He didn't see any problem with his behavior and showed no remorse.
Last night, he and his housemates hosted a Thanksgiving dinner. Awhile after dinner a bunch of us were sitting around in the kitchen talking when he said "I can make someone storm out of the room in a rage with one sentence. Wanna see?" Without really waiting for a response he looked at me and said "Hey, have you gained weight?" I didn't say anything and probably wouldn't have responded at all, but then he came over and hugged me. I don't particularly appreciate physical contact from people I don't like. So I grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out to the living room and had the following conversation:
Me: How do you have any friends?
Him: Because I'm charming.
Me: No, you're an asshole.
Him: So?
Me: Okay.
And I walked back into the kitchen and continued talking with my friends. Because you know what? He isn't worth it. Him intimating I'd put on weight didn't bother me (I've actually lost weight), it was the fact that his only intention was to hurt me. This person who says that he's my friend and doesn't understand why I don't tell him anything about my personal life. Who is so desperate to be the center of attention that he'll look bad as long as all eyes are on him but doesn't seem to understand that actions have consequences. Who I've tried so hard to like in spite of himself.
I was upset, I was a good friend, I had a rational discussion, I caused him some physical pain. Nothing made any kind of a difference to him. But it's not really my problem. You can't change other people, you can only make them want to change themselves, and I don't have room in my life for someone like that.
It's really disappointing because he can be a lot of fun and I was hoping he'd turn out to be a better person. And yes, I'm judging him. We all judge people. I try really hard to not judge people based on my codes of morals and ethics because everyone has their own and they should be held accountable to those, not mine. But this streak of deliberate cruelty is something that I don't think I can overlook.
So I decided I'm done. He can be whatever kind of person he wants to be, it's not like we have any ties other than mutual friends. He's been officially relegated to the role of "that annoying guy who hangs out with my friends." Which is annoying in and of itself since there was already someone holding the fort in that area. Now I guess there're two.
*Except I am.
**The thing that made it worse is that my boyfriend at the time stood there silently for the whole thing. (The guy was his friend.)
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Making it count
My grandma died two days ago.
The past couple of days have been weird. I've never had anyone I know die before, let alone a family member. The thing is, I've never felt like my family is particularly tight-knit so I was kind of surprised about how much it affected me. I think I talked to her more in the past couple of months when she took a turn for the worse than I ever did before. I used to only see her maybe twice a year even though I always lived within a 45 minute drive and, for awhile, a lot closer than that. Now I live 2300 miles away and I feel guilty that I didn't talk to her more or visit with her more when I had the chance.
It's hard to realize that I don't know much about her, but when I think about the things I do know, it makes me realize the opportunity I've missed by not taking the time to know her better. She grew up in South Dakota but she left because she wanted to see the world. I don't know her whole story, but she went to Michigan and Florida and wound up in Kentucky. She was first generation German so she had a slight German accent which caused her some problems during WWII. She started smoking when working in a factory because smokers got smoke breaks and non-smokers didn't get any breaks at all. She didn't stop smoking when my grandpa died of a heart attack, but she quit cold turkey when my mom had my sister and said she wouldn't bring her baby to a house full of smoke. She raised five kids and was a widow for far longer than she was a wife. She was opinionated and strong-willed, even at age 92. She was frustrated and sad because the arthritis in her knees made it hard for her to walk more than 10 feet and the glaucoma and macular degeneration caused her to be almost completely blind.
There are so many gaps in that story that I'll never be able to fill in.
One thing that I frequently do is stop and think "Am I truly happy doing what I doing, right now, in this moment?" Most of the time the answer is yes, even if I'm just watching TV and crocheting or reading a book. But I've been thinking the past couple of days that maybe that isn't the right question to ask. Maybe I should be asking "Am I making the most of this moment?" Because there are so many things that I want to do; so many plans that I have. All too frequently, I put my bigger goals on the back burner and focus on the smaller ones. Sure, finishing a blanket feels good, but when my goal for the day was to work on NaNoWriMo, it's still kind of a failure.
I need to make the time that I have count. I have lists of things I want to accomplish but they never quite get done or, sometimes, even started. And I have all kinds of excuses, money and time being the main ones, but they're still excuses. I firmly believe that if you truly want something then it will happen which makes me wonder if I just don't want anything badly enough. Shouldn't you have some goal, some over-arching reason for your life? I think that people do, and that it's different for everyone. For some it's a certain career, to be a parent, to find true love, to make a difference in the world . . . I thought for me it was just to be happy, however that might come about. But it's so intangible, I don't really know how to get there. So sometimes I feel like I'm flailing through life, following wrong paths and missing the signposts.
It makes me feel helpless. And maybe that's part of the reason why my grandma's death means so much more to me than I thought it would. For a long time I thought I was afraid of old people, but eventually I realized I was afraid of being helpless. Not being able to see or hear or move, not being in control. And the terrifying knowledge that things were never going to be better than the way they were the day before. Maybe those things aren't as scary if you've lived a long and full life, but to me, right now, it's almost paralyzing. I don't want to be 92 years old and feel like I've wasted my life.
So I'm going to make a concerted effort to pull myself out of these doldrums I've been in for the past couple of days and, instead of lamenting opportunities missed, do my best to celebrate my grandma by following through on my dreams and not backing down because something is hard.
It does make me happy to think that, after over 40 years apart, she's with my grandpa again.
The past couple of days have been weird. I've never had anyone I know die before, let alone a family member. The thing is, I've never felt like my family is particularly tight-knit so I was kind of surprised about how much it affected me. I think I talked to her more in the past couple of months when she took a turn for the worse than I ever did before. I used to only see her maybe twice a year even though I always lived within a 45 minute drive and, for awhile, a lot closer than that. Now I live 2300 miles away and I feel guilty that I didn't talk to her more or visit with her more when I had the chance.
It's hard to realize that I don't know much about her, but when I think about the things I do know, it makes me realize the opportunity I've missed by not taking the time to know her better. She grew up in South Dakota but she left because she wanted to see the world. I don't know her whole story, but she went to Michigan and Florida and wound up in Kentucky. She was first generation German so she had a slight German accent which caused her some problems during WWII. She started smoking when working in a factory because smokers got smoke breaks and non-smokers didn't get any breaks at all. She didn't stop smoking when my grandpa died of a heart attack, but she quit cold turkey when my mom had my sister and said she wouldn't bring her baby to a house full of smoke. She raised five kids and was a widow for far longer than she was a wife. She was opinionated and strong-willed, even at age 92. She was frustrated and sad because the arthritis in her knees made it hard for her to walk more than 10 feet and the glaucoma and macular degeneration caused her to be almost completely blind.
There are so many gaps in that story that I'll never be able to fill in.
One thing that I frequently do is stop and think "Am I truly happy doing what I doing, right now, in this moment?" Most of the time the answer is yes, even if I'm just watching TV and crocheting or reading a book. But I've been thinking the past couple of days that maybe that isn't the right question to ask. Maybe I should be asking "Am I making the most of this moment?" Because there are so many things that I want to do; so many plans that I have. All too frequently, I put my bigger goals on the back burner and focus on the smaller ones. Sure, finishing a blanket feels good, but when my goal for the day was to work on NaNoWriMo, it's still kind of a failure.
I need to make the time that I have count. I have lists of things I want to accomplish but they never quite get done or, sometimes, even started. And I have all kinds of excuses, money and time being the main ones, but they're still excuses. I firmly believe that if you truly want something then it will happen which makes me wonder if I just don't want anything badly enough. Shouldn't you have some goal, some over-arching reason for your life? I think that people do, and that it's different for everyone. For some it's a certain career, to be a parent, to find true love, to make a difference in the world . . . I thought for me it was just to be happy, however that might come about. But it's so intangible, I don't really know how to get there. So sometimes I feel like I'm flailing through life, following wrong paths and missing the signposts.
It makes me feel helpless. And maybe that's part of the reason why my grandma's death means so much more to me than I thought it would. For a long time I thought I was afraid of old people, but eventually I realized I was afraid of being helpless. Not being able to see or hear or move, not being in control. And the terrifying knowledge that things were never going to be better than the way they were the day before. Maybe those things aren't as scary if you've lived a long and full life, but to me, right now, it's almost paralyzing. I don't want to be 92 years old and feel like I've wasted my life.
So I'm going to make a concerted effort to pull myself out of these doldrums I've been in for the past couple of days and, instead of lamenting opportunities missed, do my best to celebrate my grandma by following through on my dreams and not backing down because something is hard.
It does make me happy to think that, after over 40 years apart, she's with my grandpa again.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Yup, I'm a curmudgeon
Sometimes, with my job, I just really want to smack people. I mean, they can be entitled, inconsiderate, lazy, whiny, and insanely frustrating and I just have to smile and bite my tongue.* Once I have more of an established working relationship with someone I'll occasionally express a dissenting opinion in a (hopefully) mild way but for the most part I try to hold it in and rage out later in the privacy of my car on the freeway.
Essentially, I own my own business so when I work with people it's in a mutually beneficial business arrangement. I don't really feel the need to pander to people who I think treat me badly. A couple weeks ago I dissolved a business relationship** with someone who kept jerking me around on scheduling and was incredibly irresponsible. And yes, I lost money because of it that I kind of can't afford to lose but the stress that woman was putting in my life just was not worth the amount of money I was being paid.
It's completely bizarre to me how some people don't comprehend that actions have consequences. I don't even know how you can get to the adult portion of your life without having figured that out. I suppose if you live a charmed existence or are SERIOUSLY oblivious it might happen . . . but geez. It makes life for the people who have to deal with you pretty unpleasant.
I'm the first to admit I'm a bit of a stickler for being responsible and dependable. I hold people accountable for things whether it's personal or professional. I had this one friend in college who was surprised by my attitude several times. Once, I let her borrow my class notes for a weekend as long as she gave them back by Sunday night since we had a test on Tuesday. Well, she went home for the weekend (40 miles away) and forgot to bring them back. So when I asked her for my notes back and she said they were at home, I said "Then I guess you'd better go get them." I can see where some people would think that was harsh (she certainly did), but I did her a favor and her response was to ignore the impact her actions had on my grade. I was very serious about school and that was NOT okay with me. Another time I lent her a book and when she gave it back it was stained, the pages were folded and the cover was ripped. So I checked the price and told her she could replace it or give me $8 so that I could. Once again, she was flummoxed. In what world is it okay to destroy someone's property and then not replace it? I take care of my stuff because I want it to last for a long time. I still lend out books to people, but now I make sure they know up front that if they don't return it to me in like condition, they'll be buying me a new one. And they have without exception agreed that was perfectly reasonable.
Sometimes I feel like such a stick-in-the-mud because when people don't hold themselves accountable, I have to do it. Because, quite frankly, I'd rather be considered a fuddy duddy than let people walk all over me. I just wish people would man up and act like considerate adults instead of entitled toddlers. Then we could all be pleasant together and I wouldn't have to rant and rave and possibly have a stroke.
*To be fair, I work with some really awesome, respectful people too.
**I like to say I fired them because it makes me feel like a badass.
Essentially, I own my own business so when I work with people it's in a mutually beneficial business arrangement. I don't really feel the need to pander to people who I think treat me badly. A couple weeks ago I dissolved a business relationship** with someone who kept jerking me around on scheduling and was incredibly irresponsible. And yes, I lost money because of it that I kind of can't afford to lose but the stress that woman was putting in my life just was not worth the amount of money I was being paid.
It's completely bizarre to me how some people don't comprehend that actions have consequences. I don't even know how you can get to the adult portion of your life without having figured that out. I suppose if you live a charmed existence or are SERIOUSLY oblivious it might happen . . . but geez. It makes life for the people who have to deal with you pretty unpleasant.
I'm the first to admit I'm a bit of a stickler for being responsible and dependable. I hold people accountable for things whether it's personal or professional. I had this one friend in college who was surprised by my attitude several times. Once, I let her borrow my class notes for a weekend as long as she gave them back by Sunday night since we had a test on Tuesday. Well, she went home for the weekend (40 miles away) and forgot to bring them back. So when I asked her for my notes back and she said they were at home, I said "Then I guess you'd better go get them." I can see where some people would think that was harsh (she certainly did), but I did her a favor and her response was to ignore the impact her actions had on my grade. I was very serious about school and that was NOT okay with me. Another time I lent her a book and when she gave it back it was stained, the pages were folded and the cover was ripped. So I checked the price and told her she could replace it or give me $8 so that I could. Once again, she was flummoxed. In what world is it okay to destroy someone's property and then not replace it? I take care of my stuff because I want it to last for a long time. I still lend out books to people, but now I make sure they know up front that if they don't return it to me in like condition, they'll be buying me a new one. And they have without exception agreed that was perfectly reasonable.
Sometimes I feel like such a stick-in-the-mud because when people don't hold themselves accountable, I have to do it. Because, quite frankly, I'd rather be considered a fuddy duddy than let people walk all over me. I just wish people would man up and act like considerate adults instead of entitled toddlers. Then we could all be pleasant together and I wouldn't have to rant and rave and possibly have a stroke.
*To be fair, I work with some really awesome, respectful people too.
**I like to say I fired them because it makes me feel like a badass.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Dance dance
You know when you have something that makes you irrationally happy and you can't help but smile? For me, right now, it's the song "Tonight, Tonight" by Hot Chelle Rae. I really don't know what it is, but it's completely infectious and upbeat and I LOVE it. It's really hard to keep from dancing when I listen to it. Not that I restrain myself all that often, but when I'm out for a walk and it comes up on my iPod it's ridiculously difficult to keep myself from dancing down the street.
Some songs are just awesome to dance to in that I-in-no-way-care-what-I-look-like fashion. I've decided that my top three are:
Tonight Tonight - Hot Chelle Rae
Bad Moon Rising - CCR
Invisible Touch - Genesis
Now you can berate my taste in music all you like* but these songs are awesome and I frequently dance around my apartment like a lunatic when they come on.
*Just last night I had to defend liking Nickleback. Have you ever listened to their b-sides? Because they are all legitimate rock and are NOTHING like the singles the put out. It's good stuff, you should give it a shot.
Some songs are just awesome to dance to in that I-in-no-way-care-what-I-look-like fashion. I've decided that my top three are:
Tonight Tonight - Hot Chelle Rae
Bad Moon Rising - CCR
Invisible Touch - Genesis
Now you can berate my taste in music all you like* but these songs are awesome and I frequently dance around my apartment like a lunatic when they come on.
*Just last night I had to defend liking Nickleback. Have you ever listened to their b-sides? Because they are all legitimate rock and are NOTHING like the singles the put out. It's good stuff, you should give it a shot.
Monday, October 24, 2011
So annoyed. And so sleepy.
I officially have a new #1 on my Things I Hate list: car alarms.
I do not know what the deal is, but for the last month there have been car alarms going of in the middle of the night about three times a week. It is HORRIBLE. There are two cars that keep doing it. One just emits a piercing intermittent shriek, but the other lets of a series of ever-more infuriating noises and then pauses just long enough for you to think the owner has finally turned it off before starting the cycle all over again. It's a mystery to me why these things keep going off unless some hooligan* is doing it for fun since they are obviously NOT being stolen given that they are screeching away two nights later.
So, theoretically, I know what car alarms are for, but do they serve any actual purpose? I have never in my life heard a car alarm go off and then people jump up to go make sure it isn't being stolen. It seems like they usually get tripped when someone bumps into the car or a motorcycle goes past or you accidentally hit the panic button on your keychain remote. And BECAUSE that's why they usually go off, no one ever pays attention to them anymore. I know my first thought isn't ever, "Uh oh, that car's being stolen!" It's usually more along the lines of intense irritation that someone made a mistake and now I'm going to have a headache all day.
I don't even know if my car has an alarm on it. I suppose it probably does, but it's never been set off. Which is good because if it did, I'd probably be inclined to get it removed and that would cost money and I've already sunk enough cash into that vehicle this month.
Basically, I don't really think there's a point to car alarms anymore. Granted, that's mostly because I'm dying for a night of uninterrupted sleep** but I'm going to go with this is an excellent idea. No more alarms on cars! Let's have a rally! Please?
I'm so sleep-deprived . . . snaetoiaetnkadghw4t nkjwe.l;kkga
*There is a pack of kids who roam my street and one of the hilarious antics they get up to is pulling the fire alarm for my building so that a migraine-inducing tone goes off until the landlord comes over to turn it off. I can only hope we never ACTUALLY have a fire because I've never seen any sort of an emergency response apart from irate figures storming out of their apartments to hurl expletives at fleeing children.
**Apart from car alarms, there are also babies and dogs in my neighborhood to provide late night entertainment should the alarms be slacking for a night. Usually I can sleep through those though; the car alarms ALWAYS wake me up. Although I suppose that's the point.
I do not know what the deal is, but for the last month there have been car alarms going of in the middle of the night about three times a week. It is HORRIBLE. There are two cars that keep doing it. One just emits a piercing intermittent shriek, but the other lets of a series of ever-more infuriating noises and then pauses just long enough for you to think the owner has finally turned it off before starting the cycle all over again. It's a mystery to me why these things keep going off unless some hooligan* is doing it for fun since they are obviously NOT being stolen given that they are screeching away two nights later.
So, theoretically, I know what car alarms are for, but do they serve any actual purpose? I have never in my life heard a car alarm go off and then people jump up to go make sure it isn't being stolen. It seems like they usually get tripped when someone bumps into the car or a motorcycle goes past or you accidentally hit the panic button on your keychain remote. And BECAUSE that's why they usually go off, no one ever pays attention to them anymore. I know my first thought isn't ever, "Uh oh, that car's being stolen!" It's usually more along the lines of intense irritation that someone made a mistake and now I'm going to have a headache all day.
I don't even know if my car has an alarm on it. I suppose it probably does, but it's never been set off. Which is good because if it did, I'd probably be inclined to get it removed and that would cost money and I've already sunk enough cash into that vehicle this month.
Basically, I don't really think there's a point to car alarms anymore. Granted, that's mostly because I'm dying for a night of uninterrupted sleep** but I'm going to go with this is an excellent idea. No more alarms on cars! Let's have a rally! Please?
I'm so sleep-deprived . . . snaetoiaetnkadghw4t nkjwe.l;kkga
*There is a pack of kids who roam my street and one of the hilarious antics they get up to is pulling the fire alarm for my building so that a migraine-inducing tone goes off until the landlord comes over to turn it off. I can only hope we never ACTUALLY have a fire because I've never seen any sort of an emergency response apart from irate figures storming out of their apartments to hurl expletives at fleeing children.
**Apart from car alarms, there are also babies and dogs in my neighborhood to provide late night entertainment should the alarms be slacking for a night. Usually I can sleep through those though; the car alarms ALWAYS wake me up. Although I suppose that's the point.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Halloween horror
It's getting close to Halloween; that amazing holiday where you get to wear a costume and gorge yourself on candy. Basically, it's a kid's dream come true. I can remember back when I was really little, I loved it. My mom always made the costumes for me and my brother and sister and they were always amazing: Rainbow Brite, a dinosaur, a skunk, a spider, Ninja Turtles, fairies, Dorothy . . . You name it, she could make it.
But somewhere along the way, way too early, Halloween stopped being fun for me. I guess around age 10, I developed this massive anxiety about having to pick what I was going to be for Halloween. I don't really know why. Sure, it only came around once a year so you wanted to pick something good, but it got to the point where I couldn't pick ANYTHING. I know it had to be frustrating for my mom since she had three costumes to make and my indecision wasn't making life any easier, but I started to hate Halloween. I remember one year I was huddled in my closet, crying, an hour before everyone was supposed to show up for our Halloween party because I didn't know what I wanted to be and I knew there wasn't any time to make me a costume anyway.* It was horrible.
This decision paralysis ended up leading to a lot of costumes for me that were along the lines of "a boy." Stuff that could be thrown together at the last minute but that I was never really happy with. The gleaming exception here is the year I went as "an accident-prone kid."** The moms loved it and I got TONS of candy.
But I still don't know why I got so uptight about Halloween when I was a kid. The entire holiday is just about having fun (or now it is anyway). I quit trick-or-treating whenever my sister did, so I guess I was 12. I just wanted to stay home and eat candy without having to dress up to get it. And I haven't dressed up for a single Halloween since then.
And the thing is, I want to. Come on, how fun is it to put on some ridiculous or scary outfit that you'd never normally wear? But I could still never think of what to be. (Plus I would have had to go hunt down a costume party, but it's not like that would have been hard if I tried at all.) Now I feel like there's this additional pressure to not only have a good costume, but one that's clever too. Although that's probably just because the costumes I'm most impressed with are the ones that're clever or have some kind of a twist to them.
This year I'm breaking that streak of not dressing up! And I'm pretty excited about it. I thought of a costume that was moderately clever, but then a bunch of my friends decided to get together as an ensemble and I'm jumping in with them on that. I feel like I'm reclaiming those years I wasted as a kid stressing out about what I was going to be when I should have just picked something and focused on having fun. Isn't that really what Halloween's about? Well, that and giving kids a three day sugar-high.
Sometimes I just need to tell myself to relax. I'm going to party with my friends over the weekend and buy myself some candy to eat while watching something (moderately) scary on Halloween night. That sounds like an excellent plan to me. And I didn't even cry in the closet, I'm such a big girl.
*I ended up being wedged into an old costume of my brother's (a spider with a bowtie).
** Easiest costume ever: Put your arm in a sling, black out your two front teeth with a Reese's wrapper, and use face paint to add a black eye and some stitches.
But somewhere along the way, way too early, Halloween stopped being fun for me. I guess around age 10, I developed this massive anxiety about having to pick what I was going to be for Halloween. I don't really know why. Sure, it only came around once a year so you wanted to pick something good, but it got to the point where I couldn't pick ANYTHING. I know it had to be frustrating for my mom since she had three costumes to make and my indecision wasn't making life any easier, but I started to hate Halloween. I remember one year I was huddled in my closet, crying, an hour before everyone was supposed to show up for our Halloween party because I didn't know what I wanted to be and I knew there wasn't any time to make me a costume anyway.* It was horrible.
This decision paralysis ended up leading to a lot of costumes for me that were along the lines of "a boy." Stuff that could be thrown together at the last minute but that I was never really happy with. The gleaming exception here is the year I went as "an accident-prone kid."** The moms loved it and I got TONS of candy.
But I still don't know why I got so uptight about Halloween when I was a kid. The entire holiday is just about having fun (or now it is anyway). I quit trick-or-treating whenever my sister did, so I guess I was 12. I just wanted to stay home and eat candy without having to dress up to get it. And I haven't dressed up for a single Halloween since then.
And the thing is, I want to. Come on, how fun is it to put on some ridiculous or scary outfit that you'd never normally wear? But I could still never think of what to be. (Plus I would have had to go hunt down a costume party, but it's not like that would have been hard if I tried at all.) Now I feel like there's this additional pressure to not only have a good costume, but one that's clever too. Although that's probably just because the costumes I'm most impressed with are the ones that're clever or have some kind of a twist to them.
This year I'm breaking that streak of not dressing up! And I'm pretty excited about it. I thought of a costume that was moderately clever, but then a bunch of my friends decided to get together as an ensemble and I'm jumping in with them on that. I feel like I'm reclaiming those years I wasted as a kid stressing out about what I was going to be when I should have just picked something and focused on having fun. Isn't that really what Halloween's about? Well, that and giving kids a three day sugar-high.
Sometimes I just need to tell myself to relax. I'm going to party with my friends over the weekend and buy myself some candy to eat while watching something (moderately) scary on Halloween night. That sounds like an excellent plan to me. And I didn't even cry in the closet, I'm such a big girl.
*I ended up being wedged into an old costume of my brother's (a spider with a bowtie).
** Easiest costume ever: Put your arm in a sling, black out your two front teeth with a Reese's wrapper, and use face paint to add a black eye and some stitches.
Friday, October 21, 2011
The simple things
Do you ever get struck by something really simple that you encounter every day, but for some reason seems miraculous all of a sudden?
Like when you're really thirsty and when you finally get a drink, water is the most delicious thing you've ever tasted . . .
. . . Or when you're cold and then first blast of hot air from the car heater hits you and makes you shiver all over . . .
. . . Or feeling clean and fresh after you've taken a shower . . .
. . . Or the smell of apples when you walk through the produce section at the grocery . . .
. . . Or when you realize there isn't any background noise and you revel in the silence that's so rare when you live in a big city . . .
Sometimes it just hits me that it really is the simple things in life.
Like when you're really thirsty and when you finally get a drink, water is the most delicious thing you've ever tasted . . .
. . . Or when you're cold and then first blast of hot air from the car heater hits you and makes you shiver all over . . .
. . . Or feeling clean and fresh after you've taken a shower . . .
. . . Or the smell of apples when you walk through the produce section at the grocery . . .
. . . Or when you realize there isn't any background noise and you revel in the silence that's so rare when you live in a big city . . .
Sometimes it just hits me that it really is the simple things in life.
Being the best "you"
Have you ever sat and thought about when you became self-aware? It's obviously not something we're born with, otherwise kids wouldn't be so cruelly honest. And really, it's probably more of a gradual transition as we see traits in others that we don't like and start comparing them to ourselves. But sometimes you have an epiphany moment; at least, I did.
In 7th grade (around age 12) there was a boy in my class who was a complete know-it-all. He was new and essentially thought he was smarter than everyone which really annoyed me and a lot of the other kids in my class. As the year went on he quit trying so hard to impress everyone and we became friends. At some point during that year he asked me, "Would you be your friend?" Meaning, if there was an identical copy of you, same personality, habits, manners and everything, would you be their friend. I, of course, immediately snapped "Yes" but then I started to wonder.
Would I really be my friend? And I started to take stock of who I was. Looking at yourself objectively can be incredibly difficult, especially when you're a kid but I did my best. What I came up with was I was bossy, imperious, had a horrible temper that would go off at the tiniest thing, and was really kind of a bitch. I realized my answer was "no." And that realization changed me. I had never thought about "who I was" before, but I knew I didn't like the person I was being. So I decided to change.
As it turns out, it is HARD to change behavior patterns that have become ingrained. Every year I would pick the aspect of my personality or behavior that was the most egregious and I would consciously work on changing or stopping whatever it was until I didn't have to think about it anymore. Some things took longer than others. It took three years to get my temper under control and another two to quit cussing. Some traits seemed to fade away while I was working on a different one. Which makes sense, I suppose, since I was changing an entire personality and it was all connected.
Eventually, I was satisfied that I was a good person who I would indeed be friends with. But I'd learned something valuable. I decided who I am and who I will be. So I kept looking at myself as I am and how I would like to be.
Throughout high school and into college I was cripplingly shy. So one year I resolved to say "hi" and smile at every person I walked past that made eye-contact with me. It sounds like such a little thing, but to me it was daunting and I'd be lying if I said I never cheated and looked at the sidewalk when I saw someone coming. But I kept at it until it became my default. I still do it today and it's kind of remarkable how happy some people are just to be seen and recognized as a fellow person.
I feel safe saying that I've conquered my shyness. I am, at this point, very happy with the person that I've become. Of course I have flaws, but they're flaws that I can live with. I hold myself to MY standards for me. I don't expect me to be perfect or to be completely zen when I've had a horrible day. And I recognize my flaws. I know when I'm being irrationally angry about something, and often that's enough for me to stop. Other times I indulge the anger because I think it's good to let emotions out.
One thing that I've decided throughout this journey of becoming the best "me" is that people have different visions of who the perfect "you" is. And it's wonderful that they want you to fulfill your full potential, but what they are doing is holding you to THEIR standards of what a successful person is. And that isn't really fair. People have different opinions about practically everything and if you live to someone else's standards, are you really being the true you? I truly believe that you can't change other people. But, sometimes, you can make them want to change themselves.
I'm so grateful to that 12-year-old for not just brushing off some impertinent question from the annoying boy she didn't really like. But I'm even more grateful to him for asking the question in the first place. I mostly lost touch with him when we went to college, apart from a brief email exchange a couple of years ago. He doesn't have any idea he had such a huge impact on my life, but I shudder to think what I would have been like if we had never had that conversation. Hopefully, I would have figured it out on my own but you never know. I should really thank him; he's the reason I'm the person who I am today.
In 7th grade (around age 12) there was a boy in my class who was a complete know-it-all. He was new and essentially thought he was smarter than everyone which really annoyed me and a lot of the other kids in my class. As the year went on he quit trying so hard to impress everyone and we became friends. At some point during that year he asked me, "Would you be your friend?" Meaning, if there was an identical copy of you, same personality, habits, manners and everything, would you be their friend. I, of course, immediately snapped "Yes" but then I started to wonder.
Would I really be my friend? And I started to take stock of who I was. Looking at yourself objectively can be incredibly difficult, especially when you're a kid but I did my best. What I came up with was I was bossy, imperious, had a horrible temper that would go off at the tiniest thing, and was really kind of a bitch. I realized my answer was "no." And that realization changed me. I had never thought about "who I was" before, but I knew I didn't like the person I was being. So I decided to change.
As it turns out, it is HARD to change behavior patterns that have become ingrained. Every year I would pick the aspect of my personality or behavior that was the most egregious and I would consciously work on changing or stopping whatever it was until I didn't have to think about it anymore. Some things took longer than others. It took three years to get my temper under control and another two to quit cussing. Some traits seemed to fade away while I was working on a different one. Which makes sense, I suppose, since I was changing an entire personality and it was all connected.
Eventually, I was satisfied that I was a good person who I would indeed be friends with. But I'd learned something valuable. I decided who I am and who I will be. So I kept looking at myself as I am and how I would like to be.
Throughout high school and into college I was cripplingly shy. So one year I resolved to say "hi" and smile at every person I walked past that made eye-contact with me. It sounds like such a little thing, but to me it was daunting and I'd be lying if I said I never cheated and looked at the sidewalk when I saw someone coming. But I kept at it until it became my default. I still do it today and it's kind of remarkable how happy some people are just to be seen and recognized as a fellow person.
I feel safe saying that I've conquered my shyness. I am, at this point, very happy with the person that I've become. Of course I have flaws, but they're flaws that I can live with. I hold myself to MY standards for me. I don't expect me to be perfect or to be completely zen when I've had a horrible day. And I recognize my flaws. I know when I'm being irrationally angry about something, and often that's enough for me to stop. Other times I indulge the anger because I think it's good to let emotions out.
One thing that I've decided throughout this journey of becoming the best "me" is that people have different visions of who the perfect "you" is. And it's wonderful that they want you to fulfill your full potential, but what they are doing is holding you to THEIR standards of what a successful person is. And that isn't really fair. People have different opinions about practically everything and if you live to someone else's standards, are you really being the true you? I truly believe that you can't change other people. But, sometimes, you can make them want to change themselves.
I'm so grateful to that 12-year-old for not just brushing off some impertinent question from the annoying boy she didn't really like. But I'm even more grateful to him for asking the question in the first place. I mostly lost touch with him when we went to college, apart from a brief email exchange a couple of years ago. He doesn't have any idea he had such a huge impact on my life, but I shudder to think what I would have been like if we had never had that conversation. Hopefully, I would have figured it out on my own but you never know. I should really thank him; he's the reason I'm the person who I am today.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Stop being buttheads
As a general rule, I don't bring up the topic of religion that often with people. I think faith is a personal thing that needs to be respected whether you agree with the other person's point of view or not, but it seems like most people view religion as a black-and-white affair. I actually really like to talk about religion if people can be reasonable about it because I think it's interesting to hear other view points. But when you're talking to a Bible-thumping Baptist or a staunch atheist who looks down on you for admitting to any kind of belief, the conversation is considerably less fun.
I, personally, am Roman Catholic and I identify myself that way in spite of not going to church every Sunday, taking birth control, and not actually believing in the transubstantiation.* Sometimes though, I get the sense that people have a certain pride in identifying themselves as NOT Christian. The same way I think there's a pride to NOT be American.** It's like people feel the need to disassociate themselves from groups that have been tarnished by the acts of a vocal minority.
In particular lately, I've been thinking about the Christian protesters who picket funerals of fallen military, known homosexuals, or murdered 9-year-old girls. (That last one they apparently agreed not to do in exchange for air time. How noble.) So while I'm expressly talking about the Westboro Baptist Church, I'm also talking about any Christians who are so cruel and non-Christian as to judge and harass any group of people you happen to disagree with. It makes me sad that these people are giving Christians a bad name. I suppose the potential is there in any religion (Muslims seem to have a few problem children in the ranks) but because it's MY religion it's especially distressing to me because we are clearly not talking about the same God.
I think part of the problem is that lots of people don't know the history of their religion and that is incredibly important. (John the Baptist was not a Baptist people, he just went around baptizing.) Catholicism began with Jesus and Peter became the first pope. ("Catholic" means "universal." As in, "one church.") Then there was The Great Schism and it split into Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox. Then there was the Protestant Reformation and a BUNCH of Christian denominations split off and continue to do so. The point is, you need to know where your religion came from and take everything in context. I mean, a bunch of guys got together and decided after the fact that Jesus was divine (the Council of Niceae) and the Bible was written after the time Jesus was alive and a good number of books written didn't make it into the Bible. During the Protestant Reformation several books were removed which is why the Catholic bible has more books. These are all facts that are important to know because it gives you perspective. Religion was created by man, who is fallible. To think that religious success is to live according to the letter of the Bible is ridiculous. Not least because, depending on which Bible you pick up, the exact wording changes. And you can't count out mistranslations.
The thing is, I don't really care if Jesus was just a guy or if every story in the Bible is fake. My religion works for me and the things I know don't affect what I believe. I've taken the basis of what I grew up with, and tweaked it to fit my observations of the world and myself. I don't think that makes a bad person or any less of a Christian because the Church does it too. It's easier to see in Catholicism because the history is longer, but it has changed (I don't know enough about Islam and Hillel to comment knowledgeably but I imagine it's similar). You used to only be able to print the Bible or say the mass in Latin, women had to cover their hair in church, unborn babies went to limbo instead of heaven, etc. Jesus wasn't born on December 25, the Church just co-opted the date of Saturnalia to rope some pagans into the fold.
The point is, religions change. All of these people protesting say that the changing world is destroying itself, but really it's just moving along like it always does. You can't hold onto the past, in your personal life or on a grander scale. And true, the acceptance of change grinds particularly slowly where religion is concerned, but do you know what happens to religions that don't change with the times? They become mythology.
*That last one is a pretty big deal doctrine-wise, but when I was little I couldn't help but think that if the bread and wine at church were ACTUALLY turning into Jesus that meant I was a cannibal. Besides, unless Jesus was made of wafer and alcohol, the taste just didn't add up. Most Protestants believe communion is a symbol and that works fine for me.
**My parents and two of their friends went on a two-week hiking trip through France and were thoroughly flattered when they were mistaken for being French, English, and Italian at different times. My dad was the only one singled out as American and they teased him for it. I've also been advised that when travelling in Europe, Americans should always lie and say they're Canadian.
I, personally, am Roman Catholic and I identify myself that way in spite of not going to church every Sunday, taking birth control, and not actually believing in the transubstantiation.* Sometimes though, I get the sense that people have a certain pride in identifying themselves as NOT Christian. The same way I think there's a pride to NOT be American.** It's like people feel the need to disassociate themselves from groups that have been tarnished by the acts of a vocal minority.
In particular lately, I've been thinking about the Christian protesters who picket funerals of fallen military, known homosexuals, or murdered 9-year-old girls. (That last one they apparently agreed not to do in exchange for air time. How noble.) So while I'm expressly talking about the Westboro Baptist Church, I'm also talking about any Christians who are so cruel and non-Christian as to judge and harass any group of people you happen to disagree with. It makes me sad that these people are giving Christians a bad name. I suppose the potential is there in any religion (Muslims seem to have a few problem children in the ranks) but because it's MY religion it's especially distressing to me because we are clearly not talking about the same God.
I think part of the problem is that lots of people don't know the history of their religion and that is incredibly important. (John the Baptist was not a Baptist people, he just went around baptizing.) Catholicism began with Jesus and Peter became the first pope. ("Catholic" means "universal." As in, "one church.") Then there was The Great Schism and it split into Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox. Then there was the Protestant Reformation and a BUNCH of Christian denominations split off and continue to do so. The point is, you need to know where your religion came from and take everything in context. I mean, a bunch of guys got together and decided after the fact that Jesus was divine (the Council of Niceae) and the Bible was written after the time Jesus was alive and a good number of books written didn't make it into the Bible. During the Protestant Reformation several books were removed which is why the Catholic bible has more books. These are all facts that are important to know because it gives you perspective. Religion was created by man, who is fallible. To think that religious success is to live according to the letter of the Bible is ridiculous. Not least because, depending on which Bible you pick up, the exact wording changes. And you can't count out mistranslations.
The thing is, I don't really care if Jesus was just a guy or if every story in the Bible is fake. My religion works for me and the things I know don't affect what I believe. I've taken the basis of what I grew up with, and tweaked it to fit my observations of the world and myself. I don't think that makes a bad person or any less of a Christian because the Church does it too. It's easier to see in Catholicism because the history is longer, but it has changed (I don't know enough about Islam and Hillel to comment knowledgeably but I imagine it's similar). You used to only be able to print the Bible or say the mass in Latin, women had to cover their hair in church, unborn babies went to limbo instead of heaven, etc. Jesus wasn't born on December 25, the Church just co-opted the date of Saturnalia to rope some pagans into the fold.
The point is, religions change. All of these people protesting say that the changing world is destroying itself, but really it's just moving along like it always does. You can't hold onto the past, in your personal life or on a grander scale. And true, the acceptance of change grinds particularly slowly where religion is concerned, but do you know what happens to religions that don't change with the times? They become mythology.
*That last one is a pretty big deal doctrine-wise, but when I was little I couldn't help but think that if the bread and wine at church were ACTUALLY turning into Jesus that meant I was a cannibal. Besides, unless Jesus was made of wafer and alcohol, the taste just didn't add up. Most Protestants believe communion is a symbol and that works fine for me.
**My parents and two of their friends went on a two-week hiking trip through France and were thoroughly flattered when they were mistaken for being French, English, and Italian at different times. My dad was the only one singled out as American and they teased him for it. I've also been advised that when travelling in Europe, Americans should always lie and say they're Canadian.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Honestly honesty or Quit freaking lying
So something I've been thinking about lately is honesty. This is mostly brought about because summer television programming has forced me to lower my standards so I've been watching Pretty Little Liars and The Secret Life of the American Teenager.
I do think it is worth pointing out that both of these shows are full of teenagers who (and I say this without judgment) can be idiots. When I think back to when I was in high school, I'm pretty sure I was melodramatic and annoying to the point where, if I met myself now, I'd be getting tossed off a cliff. And yet I distinctly remember being one of the more laid-back girls I knew. So there's some happy news for teenage boys: you can't win, only survive.
Anyway, both shows have major plot lines that only exist because people lie or don't come clean immediately when something happens so that it turns into this huge production with heaps of drama and I end up yelling at my TV.* Obviously I'm aware that if they actually followed my sage wisdom there wouldn't really be a show anymore BUT STILL. It makes me rage out at the screen. Stop lying and simplify your life!!!
So that led me to thinking about the lies that people tell in real life. A big one is pretending to remember someone's name when you don't. I really don't see the point in this. Who cares if someone doesn't remember your name? Some people are just bad at remembering names, it's not that big of a deal. (This blase attitude could be because I'M really bad at remembering names, but . . . nah.) I just don't think there's anything wrong with saying to someone "I'm so sorry but I don't remember your name" as long as you're polite about it. The odds are good it's happened to everyone so they ought to be pretty forgiving of it.
Recently, I was at a house party where I met a ton of new people and I told all of them "I'll try really hard to remember your name but I probably won't because I'm really bad at it. You can forget mine if it makes you feel better!" And no one cared. They all thought it was funny and a few people took it upon themselves to quiz me on their names throughout the night and harass me if I got it wrong. (Incidentally, I remember those names now.) But it was all in good fun and it was a great party. I will concede that in certain situations there is more pressure to remember a name (like if it's associated with work or you're a politician or something) but lying is just stressful, don't you think?
If I have learned anything from TV, movies and (dare I say it?) real life, you should never gamble that a secret will stay hidden because the odds of that are SERIOUSLY not in your favor. Think of all the drama that could be eliminated or at least lessened by not taking the easy way out. Take a deep breath, man up, and tell the truth.**
*Spellcheck gets really cranky if you don't use capital letters for "tv." How picky.
**Just to clarify, I'm not talking Liar, Liar-style truth telling where you say whatever's on your mind. Just go on a lying diet, m'kay?
I do think it is worth pointing out that both of these shows are full of teenagers who (and I say this without judgment) can be idiots. When I think back to when I was in high school, I'm pretty sure I was melodramatic and annoying to the point where, if I met myself now, I'd be getting tossed off a cliff. And yet I distinctly remember being one of the more laid-back girls I knew. So there's some happy news for teenage boys: you can't win, only survive.
Anyway, both shows have major plot lines that only exist because people lie or don't come clean immediately when something happens so that it turns into this huge production with heaps of drama and I end up yelling at my TV.* Obviously I'm aware that if they actually followed my sage wisdom there wouldn't really be a show anymore BUT STILL. It makes me rage out at the screen. Stop lying and simplify your life!!!
So that led me to thinking about the lies that people tell in real life. A big one is pretending to remember someone's name when you don't. I really don't see the point in this. Who cares if someone doesn't remember your name? Some people are just bad at remembering names, it's not that big of a deal. (This blase attitude could be because I'M really bad at remembering names, but . . . nah.) I just don't think there's anything wrong with saying to someone "I'm so sorry but I don't remember your name" as long as you're polite about it. The odds are good it's happened to everyone so they ought to be pretty forgiving of it.
Recently, I was at a house party where I met a ton of new people and I told all of them "I'll try really hard to remember your name but I probably won't because I'm really bad at it. You can forget mine if it makes you feel better!" And no one cared. They all thought it was funny and a few people took it upon themselves to quiz me on their names throughout the night and harass me if I got it wrong. (Incidentally, I remember those names now.) But it was all in good fun and it was a great party. I will concede that in certain situations there is more pressure to remember a name (like if it's associated with work or you're a politician or something) but lying is just stressful, don't you think?
If I have learned anything from TV, movies and (dare I say it?) real life, you should never gamble that a secret will stay hidden because the odds of that are SERIOUSLY not in your favor. Think of all the drama that could be eliminated or at least lessened by not taking the easy way out. Take a deep breath, man up, and tell the truth.**
*Spellcheck gets really cranky if you don't use capital letters for "tv." How picky.
**Just to clarify, I'm not talking Liar, Liar-style truth telling where you say whatever's on your mind. Just go on a lying diet, m'kay?
Sunday, July 24, 2011
I should take a poll
I think pretty much everyone I know likes accents. Which leads me to believe that, probably, almost everyone in the world likes accents. Where it differs is what kind of accents are your favorite. I personally like everything from the British isles, although I decided recently that Irish tops the list. Other people I know prefer Spanish, Italian, French, or German. (Hmm, Europe seems to be over-represented here.)
Now, what I was thinking about the other day was, is American anyone's favorite accent? Being an American who lives in America, I'm not all that impressed by it. It's just normal, you know? Standard, non-exotic. But I don't think I've ever heard of it being swooned over. In fact, the descriptions I've heard of it (harsh, nasal) aren't exactly flattering. Which is a bummer.
So, is there something about the Romance languages that makes them inherently more attractive? Is it a cultural thing, that one group of people tend to prefer the way another group speaks? Or is it all a matter of individual opinion and there's someone for everybody?
I do realize that my viewpoints on this could be skewed since my reference points and cultural ideas are influenced by the media and stereotypes of my country, (Warning: I am about to make a flawed mental leap full of logical fallacies. But this is a blog and I'm just pondering, so I don't care). Maybe Americans prefer accents from English-speaking countries or Europe because we feel like we're the most similar culturally, but it's different enough to be exciting.
Something to think about anyway.
Now, what I was thinking about the other day was, is American anyone's favorite accent? Being an American who lives in America, I'm not all that impressed by it. It's just normal, you know? Standard, non-exotic. But I don't think I've ever heard of it being swooned over. In fact, the descriptions I've heard of it (harsh, nasal) aren't exactly flattering. Which is a bummer.
So, is there something about the Romance languages that makes them inherently more attractive? Is it a cultural thing, that one group of people tend to prefer the way another group speaks? Or is it all a matter of individual opinion and there's someone for everybody?
I do realize that my viewpoints on this could be skewed since my reference points and cultural ideas are influenced by the media and stereotypes of my country, (Warning: I am about to make a flawed mental leap full of logical fallacies. But this is a blog and I'm just pondering, so I don't care). Maybe Americans prefer accents from English-speaking countries or Europe because we feel like we're the most similar culturally, but it's different enough to be exciting.
Something to think about anyway.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Mostly about manners, but a bit rambling
I'm aware this is only semi-coherent but I kind of can't be bothered. There's a point in there somewhere.
So I realized the other day that I do something that may or may not be weird. I was checking out at a store and my total was $1.79 but all I had with me was a $20 bill, so as I handed it to the cashier I said "Sorry." And this is not a singular occurrence. If I don't have money in a close enough denomination I feel like I've inconvenienced them in some way and need to apologize.
Now, I used to be really bad about saying "sorry" for every little thing. One time, someone almost dropped a speaker on me and as I jumped out of the way, I apologized. I think part of the problem is the English language just puts double duty on "sorry." I mean Spanish has "lo siento" (sorry - I feel your pain) and "perdon" (sorry - I apologize, it was my fault). Because that's one of my pet peeves. You express a tale of woe to me, I commiserate and say "I'm sorry" and you come back with "Why? It's not your fault." Well, thank you for exonerating me, but I wasn't actually taking the blame. I was being polite.
Sometimes I think I can be a bit elitist and politeness. I am by no means a paramount of etiquette. I don't routinely bring a host gift or anything like that, but I am kind of a stickler for politeness. I always say "please" and "thank you" to waiters at restaurants, I smile and say hello to people I walk past if they make eye contact, I walk people to the door when they leave my house. Simple things. Which is why I can get a bit judgmental when people don't do those things.*
To be fair, I also judge myself. If I don't do one of those things, I scold myself mentally because I definitely know better. And if lots of other people don't do something I think is common-sense politeness I'll take a poll of my family and friends to see if it's just me over-reacting. I do think a lot of it comes down to upbringing. My mom is very into the whole Southern Belle kind of ideal and one summer she had my siblings and I learn one rule of etiquette every day out of this huge Emily Post** book. (One of the stereotypes of the South is that everyone is super polite.) The last time I flew out of LAX they had to re-scan and search my carry-on*** which took about 10 minutes and afterward the TSA guy asked me if I was from the South. I can only assume this was because I was polite and laid-back since I don't have an accent (unless I'm sleepy or sometimes angry).
I feel it's only fair to add the caveat I was only so laid-back because I was 4 hours early for my flight (but that's a story for another day). I'm ordinarily a bundle of nerves until I actually get to my gate because I have an almost pathological fear of being late.
*The saying hi when eye contact is made is more of a personal thing that stems from the fact that I used to be cripplingly shy. Greeting every stranger you pass is a great method of forcing yourself out of your shell in a fairly low risk way.
**It's to manners what Barlett's is to quotations or Webster's is to dictionaries.
***Apparently, a lot of books looks really suspicious on the x-ray. Random.
So I realized the other day that I do something that may or may not be weird. I was checking out at a store and my total was $1.79 but all I had with me was a $20 bill, so as I handed it to the cashier I said "Sorry." And this is not a singular occurrence. If I don't have money in a close enough denomination I feel like I've inconvenienced them in some way and need to apologize.
Now, I used to be really bad about saying "sorry" for every little thing. One time, someone almost dropped a speaker on me and as I jumped out of the way, I apologized. I think part of the problem is the English language just puts double duty on "sorry." I mean Spanish has "lo siento" (sorry - I feel your pain) and "perdon" (sorry - I apologize, it was my fault). Because that's one of my pet peeves. You express a tale of woe to me, I commiserate and say "I'm sorry" and you come back with "Why? It's not your fault." Well, thank you for exonerating me, but I wasn't actually taking the blame. I was being polite.
Sometimes I think I can be a bit elitist and politeness. I am by no means a paramount of etiquette. I don't routinely bring a host gift or anything like that, but I am kind of a stickler for politeness. I always say "please" and "thank you" to waiters at restaurants, I smile and say hello to people I walk past if they make eye contact, I walk people to the door when they leave my house. Simple things. Which is why I can get a bit judgmental when people don't do those things.*
To be fair, I also judge myself. If I don't do one of those things, I scold myself mentally because I definitely know better. And if lots of other people don't do something I think is common-sense politeness I'll take a poll of my family and friends to see if it's just me over-reacting. I do think a lot of it comes down to upbringing. My mom is very into the whole Southern Belle kind of ideal and one summer she had my siblings and I learn one rule of etiquette every day out of this huge Emily Post** book. (One of the stereotypes of the South is that everyone is super polite.) The last time I flew out of LAX they had to re-scan and search my carry-on*** which took about 10 minutes and afterward the TSA guy asked me if I was from the South. I can only assume this was because I was polite and laid-back since I don't have an accent (unless I'm sleepy or sometimes angry).
I feel it's only fair to add the caveat I was only so laid-back because I was 4 hours early for my flight (but that's a story for another day). I'm ordinarily a bundle of nerves until I actually get to my gate because I have an almost pathological fear of being late.
*The saying hi when eye contact is made is more of a personal thing that stems from the fact that I used to be cripplingly shy. Greeting every stranger you pass is a great method of forcing yourself out of your shell in a fairly low risk way.
**It's to manners what Barlett's is to quotations or Webster's is to dictionaries.
***Apparently, a lot of books looks really suspicious on the x-ray. Random.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Wallow with me, won't you?
Sometimes life is just less than stellar. Is it worse when something happens that was beyond your control or when you've inadvertently caused it yourself? It's a hard choice for me since I'm a bit of a control freak but I'm also excellent at heaping guilt upon myself.
It just occurred to me that it's very odd that for all I don't like to not be in control of things, I find it strangely comforting when books about time travel don't allow events to be changed (a self-correcting history, if you will). There's probably some revealing pyschoanalytical explanation for that but heck if I know what it is. Sidebar: Freud is weird.
Anyway, when I get down (about a big thing, not just them being out of ice cream at McDonald's*), I tend to wallow a bit before pulling myself back together. I retreat into solitude like a woodland creature that knows it's dying (yay for melodrama!) and don't talk to anyone and replay events over and over in my head until everything is way more intense and dire than it was originally. This, you might think, it so not a good plan. I concur. You might then ask yourself why I do it.
I don't know. But it is invariably my default. I keep meaning to change those settings . . .
Basically, there is a Rational Me (RM) and an Irrational Me (IM). RM is very logical and when things happen understands the reasons behind it and makes practical decisions based on the information at hand. IM mostly stands around moaning "But why?" ad naseum. Needless to say, they don't really get along. And RM apparently doesn't eat her Wheaties because when it comes down to it, IM usually wins. It's pretty exhausting being irrational though, so RM will occasionally break free and berate IM for exacerbating the situation and shake her head in shame. All of which makes me feel thoroughly schizophrenic, but I like to play it off by blaming astrology: "I'm a Gemini! I'm supposed to have dual personalities!"
Sigh. I am such a trial to me.**
*Wtf is up with this? The McDonald's by my college campus was ALWAYS running out of ice cream. The only thing I want from you people is an Oreo McFlurry! I have no reason to come here if there is no ice cream!
**Just so you don't think I'm totally loony, I do always at some point bring a real live whole other person into the discussions and then like magic I always feel a lot better. You'd think I'd just do this right off the bat but, nope, I never do. It's a bit of a mystery.
It just occurred to me that it's very odd that for all I don't like to not be in control of things, I find it strangely comforting when books about time travel don't allow events to be changed (a self-correcting history, if you will). There's probably some revealing pyschoanalytical explanation for that but heck if I know what it is. Sidebar: Freud is weird.
Anyway, when I get down (about a big thing, not just them being out of ice cream at McDonald's*), I tend to wallow a bit before pulling myself back together. I retreat into solitude like a woodland creature that knows it's dying (yay for melodrama!) and don't talk to anyone and replay events over and over in my head until everything is way more intense and dire than it was originally. This, you might think, it so not a good plan. I concur. You might then ask yourself why I do it.
I don't know. But it is invariably my default. I keep meaning to change those settings . . .
Basically, there is a Rational Me (RM) and an Irrational Me (IM). RM is very logical and when things happen understands the reasons behind it and makes practical decisions based on the information at hand. IM mostly stands around moaning "But why?" ad naseum. Needless to say, they don't really get along. And RM apparently doesn't eat her Wheaties because when it comes down to it, IM usually wins. It's pretty exhausting being irrational though, so RM will occasionally break free and berate IM for exacerbating the situation and shake her head in shame. All of which makes me feel thoroughly schizophrenic, but I like to play it off by blaming astrology: "I'm a Gemini! I'm supposed to have dual personalities!"
Sigh. I am such a trial to me.**
*Wtf is up with this? The McDonald's by my college campus was ALWAYS running out of ice cream. The only thing I want from you people is an Oreo McFlurry! I have no reason to come here if there is no ice cream!
**Just so you don't think I'm totally loony, I do always at some point bring a real live whole other person into the discussions and then like magic I always feel a lot better. You'd think I'd just do this right off the bat but, nope, I never do. It's a bit of a mystery.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Ah, summer . . .
Sometimes I confuse even myself. Take this for example: It's July now and the highs have been hovering around 90 for the past couple of weeks. Now on the one hand I love hot weather. However, I don't think I really realized that that love was contingent on being able to get away from it whenever I want. My apartment does have air conditioning but it's not central air, it's just a wall unit so it really only cools the bedroom. Also, running the air conditioning is expensive and I could probably give Scrooge a run for his money frugality wise.
The upshot is, it took me a few days of sweltering through the afternoons in my apartment to even remember that I had air conditioning. That's definitely the kind of thing that can make you feel dumb. I've still only used it once though so far (I was already showered and ready to go somewhere and didn't think a miasma of sweat stench would add to my look). Mostly I just eat popsicles and refrigerated watermelon like it's my job. (What if it WAS? Best job ever.)
As miserable as it can be, I kind of like it because sweating makes me feel like I'm getting stuff done even if all I'm actually doing is trolling YouTube. A lot of times, even if I go for a run outside I don't feel like I sweat that much because it evaporates right away since the air is so dry. Back in Kentucky the summer is muggy enough to leave you in a permanently drenched state (less than optimal). So I have this correlation in my head of sweating equals a good work out. I was fascinated the first time I realized that even though I wasn't sweaty after a hike, I was covered in salt dust from where it all evaporated. So. Cool.
I am so easily entertained.
The upshot is, it took me a few days of sweltering through the afternoons in my apartment to even remember that I had air conditioning. That's definitely the kind of thing that can make you feel dumb. I've still only used it once though so far (I was already showered and ready to go somewhere and didn't think a miasma of sweat stench would add to my look). Mostly I just eat popsicles and refrigerated watermelon like it's my job. (What if it WAS? Best job ever.)
As miserable as it can be, I kind of like it because sweating makes me feel like I'm getting stuff done even if all I'm actually doing is trolling YouTube. A lot of times, even if I go for a run outside I don't feel like I sweat that much because it evaporates right away since the air is so dry. Back in Kentucky the summer is muggy enough to leave you in a permanently drenched state (less than optimal). So I have this correlation in my head of sweating equals a good work out. I was fascinated the first time I realized that even though I wasn't sweaty after a hike, I was covered in salt dust from where it all evaporated. So. Cool.
I am so easily entertained.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Blargh
Have you ever had one of those days where you get patronized by someone who, even though they are significantly older than you, you are working with in a mutually beneficial business arrangement so where do they get off; then you get a parking ticket; and then you need to buy a dress but nothing fits (by which I mean nothing makes you magically look 3 sizes smaller so you can eat M&M's guilt-free later) and it's the bajillionth store you've been to and it's only noon?
Yeah.
Also, why has it been overcast all week? It's JUNE. I demand sunshine!
Yeah.
Also, why has it been overcast all week? It's JUNE. I demand sunshine!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Quite possibly the love of my life
Dang, I started with a firm goal of posting everyday. Or every other day. Or once a week. (See a pattern here?) Basically, I'm a bum. But a bum with good intentions! Oh well, road to hell and all that.
Let's talk about books.
I'd say I have a lot of books for the average person, but I tend to think the average is dragged down severely by the people who last read a book in high school when they had to for English class and even then they just read the Cliff Notes. Also, I think I have pretty good taste in books. I mean, look at all the books I have that I like! (Circular logic ftw.) I do feel pretty justified in this though since I happen to own 7 of the 10 books voted the best SciFi/Fantasy of the last decade in a survey Tor did. Go me, right?
I think most of what I read falls into that category* but I also read a lot of fiction and I have a few favorite mystery authors too. Recently, I've gotten into autobiographies and nonfiction which I never had ANY interest in before but now I think they're kind of fascinating. Because I feel this overwhelming need to force books I love onto anyone I meet here are some of my favorites (in no particular order because if I had to do that I would agonize over it forever and this would never get posted):
1. "Good Omens" Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett - This is my go-to book. I have no idea how many times I've read it but I'm on my third copy. It's about the Apocalypse but it's hilarious and it makes you think and it has a good message. (No guarantee it'll make you think or that you'll take a message from it, that could just be me. But it does have EPIC footnotes.)
2. "The Name of the Wind" Patrick Rothfuss - If you like fantasy at all, read it. Just do. Apparently it follows pretty close to the fantasy formula (I don't actually pay attention to that kind of thing), but the story is so well planned out that tiny details come back in a big way. Plus all the magic makes sense in a science-y way. (Disclaimer: This is the first of a trilogy and the last one won't be out for awhile so if you're one of those people who gets their panties in bunch if you have to wait you might want to hold off for a couple years.)
Let's talk about books.
I'd say I have a lot of books for the average person, but I tend to think the average is dragged down severely by the people who last read a book in high school when they had to for English class and even then they just read the Cliff Notes. Also, I think I have pretty good taste in books. I mean, look at all the books I have that I like! (Circular logic ftw.) I do feel pretty justified in this though since I happen to own 7 of the 10 books voted the best SciFi/Fantasy of the last decade in a survey Tor did. Go me, right?
I think most of what I read falls into that category* but I also read a lot of fiction and I have a few favorite mystery authors too. Recently, I've gotten into autobiographies and nonfiction which I never had ANY interest in before but now I think they're kind of fascinating. Because I feel this overwhelming need to force books I love onto anyone I meet here are some of my favorites (in no particular order because if I had to do that I would agonize over it forever and this would never get posted):
1. "Good Omens" Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett - This is my go-to book. I have no idea how many times I've read it but I'm on my third copy. It's about the Apocalypse but it's hilarious and it makes you think and it has a good message. (No guarantee it'll make you think or that you'll take a message from it, that could just be me. But it does have EPIC footnotes.)
3. "Lamb" Christopher Moore - If you can't take your religion with a grain (huge, heaping sack) of salt it might not be for you. It's basically an alternate version of the life of Jesus and it's really funny but serious enough that I cry at the ending EVERY TIME. (I think that's pretty impressive since even the first time reading it I knew what was going to happen.)
4. "My Booky Wook" Russell Brand - Even if you don't know who he is (a British comedian who married Katy Perry) it's a great book. He's witty with a great vocabulary and I don't know that I can explain why I liked it so much.
5. "Old Man's War" John Scalzi - Like a geriatric "Ender's Game." (That's seriously the WORST description ever, yet oddly accurate.) He brings together a lot of very cool ideas and is just an excellent writer. Also, he's funny. I like funny.
6. "Harry Potter" J. K. Rowling - Really, have you not read these? I know they're in the children's section but they are SO well-written and SO good.
7. "American Gods" Neil Gaiman - A very cool look at the different religions in America (including modern "gods" of TV and celebrity) and what happens when those gods are forgotten.
8. "A Game of Thrones" George R. R. Martin - Normally I don't buy it when there are these huge plots to manipulate kingdoms but I believe everything I'm sold in this book. Plus he continually surprises me and he is NOT afraid to kill off his characters which, while traumatizing, is also kind of awesome.
9. "Doomsday Book" Connie Willis - More people need to know about this author. Her books ALWAYS make me think and wonder exactly how much of what she talks about is real science and how much she made up. This one happens to be about time travel to the Middle Ages.
10. "And Then There Were None" Agatha Christie - She is the queen of mystery writers. They are all complete mind benders and sometimes (like this one) have nursery rhyme themes. Heck yes.
*It's one category, okay? I know some people get all touchy about books being called SciFi when they're really fantasy (Mom.) but I pretty much use them interchangeably (I know the difference, I'm just lazy).
Huh, there's no fiction or nonfiction on that list. I thought I had planned that out a little better than that. Maybe next time.
*It's one category, okay? I know some people get all touchy about books being called SciFi when they're really fantasy (Mom.) but I pretty much use them interchangeably (I know the difference, I'm just lazy).
Friday, May 27, 2011
Cranky pants
I’m far from being a perfect person and I’m starting to think I have way too many pet peeves to even attain average status. The vast majority of them, however, have to do with the way people drive. Sometimes the things people do just baffle me.
- Turning from the driving lane when there is a perfectly good turning lane that you are blatantly not using, forcing me to slow down.
- Slowing down to 5 mph to make a turn. Unless you are a super-frail old person or are transporting an Ace of Cakes-style confectionary wonder, there is no excuse for this.
- Braking as you go through a green light. (brain explodes)
- Turning left right in front of me as I'm coming towards you. For some bizarre reason I referred to these people as "suicide bunnies" the other day. I'm thinking of making it a thing.
- Hanging out for a good 5 seconds before accelerating when a light turns green. This is not your personal green light. You have to share with others. Go.
- Blocking an intersection because you were about to lose your green light and then you got stuck and now everyone on the cross-street can't move because you're in the way. I'll admit sometimes this can be an honest mistake, but sometimes people are just jerks. Also, does no one else pay attention to the cross walk signs that count down the number of seconds left? I love those things.
- Swerving in front of me then braking to turn. Dude. Not cool.
- Turning left from the right lane or vice versa. How in the world did you get your license? If you miss your turn you go around the block. You're not in some high speed chase where the bad guy gets away if you lose sight of him.
- Driving slowly but swerving in your lane. I don't know if you're drunk or what, but it makes me nervous to try and pass you so I'm forced to go all slow until I get angry enough that I don't care how much you'll destroy my car, I'm passing you anyway.
- Not giving me the wave when I'm nice and let you merge or turn in front of me. ALWAYS give the wave when people are nice, it's not like it's hard. Do NOT give the wave if you cut someone off. Then it's just snarky.
- Ignoring all of the "lane closure ahead" signs and zipping right down to the end and forcing your way into the line, cutting all of the responsible people who got over a mile ago. You, you personally, are causing traffic jams.
- Zooming all the way to the end of a merging lane on the interstate and forcing your way in rather than taking an open spot at the beginning of the lane. People coming up on the ramp are looking for you and making room, people past it are not. (This is really the same peeve as #11 minus the construction.)
You may have noticed a good portion of these pertain to people forcing me to slow down because I find that to be incredibly annoying. I mean look, I just used a bunch of gas to get up to the speed I was going and if I have to stomp on the brake I lose all of that momentum and then have to use MORE gas to get back to the speed I was originally at! I don't know if you've noticed, but gas is really freaking expensive.
I know, some of these are pretty nit picky but I'm not always in the most forgiving frame of mind when I drive and I start panicking that I'm going to be late. Also, I promise I don't have road rage! I don't actually DO anything to these people, I just grumble to myself about their callous disregard for my schedule/gas budget.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
A note about footnotes
I find footnotes to be inherently funny and I 100% blame Terry Pratchett for this. If I’m reading something and there are footnotes but they’re just informative rather than humor-centric I feel cheated and may stop reading whatever it is as a result.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
This is important stuff people! (Spoiler: No it isn't)
I think one of the most surreal things about moving to a different part of the country is not knowing where to buy groceries. It’s such a normal everyday thing that it doesn’t even occur to you that it’s one of the many adjustments you’re going to have to make. The stupid thing is, it gets me every time. Not that I’ve actually made more than one significant move, but it can be an issue on vacation too.
For me, the standard grocery is Kroger. There’s no objective reason for this; it’s just that I shopped at Kroger my entire life until I moved to California. Apparently, they don’t have them here. So when I got here I was a bit flummoxed. I had no idea what the good chains were and holy cow are there a lot of chains. I started out trying all of the close stores on a rotating schedule until I eventually settled on a couple of winners. Predictably, my main store is Ralphs. If you don’t know why, Ralphs is owned by Kroger. The store has the same familiar layout, has most of the brands I like and there’s the occasional fun of spotting a product with a Kroger label.
Fun Fact: Ralphs Rewards cards and Kroger Plus cards are interchangeable; you can use them at either store.
Monday, May 16, 2011
I’m just very neat, okay?
I have been accused on multiple occasions of having OCD and always in a good-natured haha-you’re-so-funny-but-seriously-have-you-been-checked kind of way. I don’t really think I do, but I definitely like to have things neat and orderly. I love to read and my books (I have ~370) are organized by genre then alphabetical by author’s last name then title, unless it’s in a series then it’s in series order. And they are all logged in a spreadsheet. Ones that I haven’t read yet are highlighted and ones that I started but never finished are highlighted a different color (I like to buy random books I think look good, sometimes I’m wrong).
My DVDs are not organized at all for the sole purpose of not being organized at all. (I caught a lot of crap about the books, okay?) I don’t have very many DVDs so it’s not a big deal and they are divided into TV and movies, but I don’t really think that counts as organized. And the movies are beside their sequels, but it’s not like they’re REALLY organized. I mean, there’s no reason to go all crazy with the unorganized thing.
In college I worked as a grader for the calculus classes so I had to alphabetize all the tests and quizzes so I could input the grades and alphabetize the folders that we stuck the stuff in to hand back their work. I had to alphabetize A LOT; we’re talking hundreds of kids multiple times a week. Apparently, one of my friends didn’t know this was my job so whenever someone asked what I did last night and I said “Alphabetizing” he thought I was going frantically around my house looking for things to organize and possibly messing things up just so I could put them back. This makes me worry about the impression I make on other people.
Another thing that my boyfriend at least seems to think is OCD is that I eat M&M’s by color. I don’t see a problem with this. Obviously they should be eaten:
- Blue
- Brown
- Red
- Green
- Orange
- Yellow
When I first made the order it had something to do with minimizing the chances your mouth would be funny colors after eating them, but my boyfriend kept trying to argue why my choices didn't make sense with the reason I gave, so now there's no reason. It's just because I say so.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Pwned!
So you know how guys always try to pick up girls by lying and trying to talk about made-up careers and backgrounds and stuff? (I don’t actually know how much this happens in real life, but it’s practically non-stop in sitcoms.)
I always wish that would happen to me. But I want the guy to be lying about something I know all about so that I can trip him up and call him out and be all “Aha!” I think that’d be great. And I maybe even have a semi-decent chance of it happening (using sitcom stats) because although I live in LA now, I used to live in Kentucky. And if people lie, they’re probably going to lie about stuff that’s far removed from where they are now so it’s harder to check on. I feel pretty confident I could catch someone out if they lied about Kentucky (heck, let’s say the South in general), horses, alcohol (I used to work for a distillery) or math. I’m not saying I know all there is to know about these things by any means, but I think I know more than someone who’s lying about knowing all about them.
Now that I think about it, this is probably just another form of my pathological competitiveness. If I can call him out, I win! I like to win entirely too much. Unfortunately, this entire scenario is highly unlikely because I’m a fuddy duddy who never goes out and if there’s a strange guy in my apartment I’m not going to be listening to him hit on me, I’m going to be pulling out my baseball bat to encourage him to leave.
This means war
My apartment seems to have a small-to-moderate cockroach problem. It’s not my fault though, I promise. I don’t leave food or water out and I regularly take out the trash. I can, therefore, only conclude that my neighbors are to blame. I’m not a particularly squeamish sort of person, so this didn’t actually strike me as an issue for the first few weeks of living here. I kind of figured, “If I see them, I’ll kill them.” This has long been my stance towards insects and spiders. At my parents’ house I literally made a deal with the spiders in my room and the bathroom (don’t judge me) that if they stayed out of my bed and the shower I wouldn’t squish them. They abided by it and my brother and sister were the only ones who ever got bitten. (And yes, I absolutely made that deal after reading “The Seventh Son” by Orson Scott Card, but it worked.)
Anyway, after a stray comment from my sister about how disease ridden cockroaches are, I started to get kind of disgusted and a little bit paranoid. She has tons of little gems to toss out for any occasion because she’s in medical school and her world is full of unsavory things she feels the need to share with the rest of us.
So I decided the thing to do would be to get some traps/poison and some caulk to seal up the baseboards. I ran this plan by my boyfriend who was underwhelmed. He seemed genuinely concerned about the caulk part of it in particular, since he didn’t want me to mess the apartment up even though my landlord has a distinctly hands-off approach. I decided his fears were unfounded so I took myself over to Lowe’s to gear up. I have two distinct approaches when I go into Lowe’s:
1. I’m just a girl who doesn’t really know anything and couldn’t some manly man please come help me? (This is when I don’t feel like reading signs to figure out where stuff is. Usually if I look lost someone will ask if they can help, but if all the roaming employees are hiding there’s always someone at the paint counter.)
2. I’m a woman on a mission, don’t you dare assume I need help just because I’m a girl. (Striding purposefully through Lowe’s does give me a sense of badass-ness, I’ll admit.)
So I came home with poison bait and caulk. (And a caulk gun. How awesome am I for owning a caulk gun?) Dilemma: do I put out the bait first letting them take the poison back to their nests and then seal everything up once they’re dead to prevent a new batch or do I seal them out and then put out the traps in case any got in? The decision was made more difficult by the fact that this was the first I’d heard that cockroaches have nests. (I do acknowledge that it's ludicrous to think that any amount of caulk could completely trap cockroaches. They're crafty devils.) But I decided to put out the bait first since that was a lot less labor intensive than caulking my entire apartment.
My boyfriend expressed concern again about the whole caulking idea, so I explained that I had gotten the trim and molding kind that you can paint over and scrapers so there’s no excess and that I had caulked before. His response was along the lines of “Oh, I didn’t know that.” But it was said in such a way that it reminded me of the way he reacted when he found out I has scored the same as him on the ACT in high school. “YOU got that?!” To be frank, it was not a very flattering reaction. Sometimes I think he forgets that I do have a real college degree even though I don’t happen to be doing anything with it. Anyway, I took the high road and did not remind him who has to borrow whose hammer because apparently only one of us is handy enough to have real tools. (He actually has a lot more than I do but mine are more useful in an everyday sense and also more accessible, so I win.) I haven’t gotten around to caulking yet because, let’s be serious, that’s going to be a lot of work.
Now the first thought in my mind was “How in the world do I not remember that being there when I moved in 3 months ago?” and the second was “Well that explains why there were always cockroaches by my desk.” That was something that had always bothered me since it made no sense. I always saw way more creepy crawlies by my desk than in the kitchen or bathroom. Granted, I spend more time at my desk than either of those other places so I figured that was why. Turns out it was the gaping hole in the wall. Clearly that needed to be fixed.
My first thought was to seal it shut with tape (I have painter’s tape so it wouldn’t damage the wall), but I started getting antsy about it not sealing that well since the walls are textured. Then I remembered: I have caulk. Mwahaha! Hopefully that hole wasn’t actually for anything because it is now completely sealed up. I feel like I should win some kind of amateur handyman award.
Just wear socks for instant fun
My floors are all hardwood which, I remember at some point, I used to love. They’re way easier to clean up since you can just sweep and maybe Swiffer wet mop if you feel like it or if you get lotion-y footprints all over the floor the way I do when I don’t want dry feet but I don’t want socks either. Two apartments ago I had all hardwood floors and it was great because I’m a girl with pretty long hair and if you are or have ever lived with a person like that you know that hair control is a serious issue. In my old place the air currents would move the hair around the floor until it gathered in clumps in three different corners where it could then easily be picked up and thrown away.
I don’t know if my current place has bad air flow or if the furniture placement is throwing things off, but here my hair does not settle sedately into a few key locations waiting patiently to be disposed of. Instead, a few rogue strands will meet up, form alliances with dust bunnies and roam the place at large frequently stopping in the middle of the floor making me think 1. It’s a bug that needs to be destroyed or 2. I live in a den of filth and disgustingness which makes me all dejected, causing me to turn to Baked Lays for comfort.
Optional utilities?
So a fun thing I discovered about my apartment a few weeks after moving in is that there is no heat. No central heat, no radiator, nothing. This isn’t as big of a problem as it might seem since I live in southern California, but it definitely made me go “Huh.” My last apartment had heat but I refused to use it since, based on my preconceived notions, it shouldn’t get cold enough here to require heat. Or to even really qualify as cold.
This, as it turns out, is not the case. Last winter it got quite chilly but because I am stubborn and cheap I refused to use the heat. Instead, on really cold days, I would turn on the oven and open the door because in my mind that is obviously the more frugal option and not so much cheating as it is ingenious. So far, even though it’s been cold a few days it’s been mostly okay because the afternoon sun pours in the windows of the living and dining rooms which heats them up pretty nicely until I’m sweating in all my heavy clothes and cranky from being overheated. The logical thing to do would be to remove a layer of clothes, but sometimes I get in a stubborn mood and refuse, thinking that if I will it hard enough the ambient temperature in my apartment will become perfect without me having to change clothes. It rarely works out.
UPDATE: Now that there have been several definitely chilly days without the benefit of afternoon sunshine due to malicious clouds, I can unequivocally state that my apartment gets way too freaking cold. My toes were regularly turning blue until I remembered my winter weather trick from my old apartment in Kentucky. That building was built in 1910, had crappy radiators and my room had two exterior walls, one of which with six feet of single pane windows. It was normally about 50 degrees in there during the winter. I’d have to take breaks every 10-15 minutes when doing homework because my writing hand would go numb. Anyway, the solution I came up with for my feet was to put on a pair of socks and then over those put on these silky fuzzy socks I randomly got for Christmas one year. Then I would tuck whatever blanket I was wrapped up in under my feet and voila! No frostbite. The only adjustment I made to that here is that for Christmas my sister and brother got me this little Afghan rug that fits perfectly under my desk, keeping my toes off the frigid floor. I actually feel kind of bad about having it shoved under there since it’s a really nice rug, but it’s just temporary and no one wins if my toes fall off.
UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: My little brother has come through in a major way. Without even knowing about my dire situation, he gave me these insanely awesome fuzzy boots (made to be worn indoors) that are quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever put on my feet. My feet SWEAT now despite the frigid temperatures and I hung the rug on the wall so I could quit feeling guilty every time I accidentally stepped on it. All-around improvements.
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