I graduated with my BS in Psychology in May. Even before I graduated I was looking for jobs relating to my degree (or at least something I'd be vaguely interested in or can at least do and not want to choke myself).
I work in non-medical in-home senior care. My hours aren't guaranteed, but mire often than not I'm getting a bunch of hours - but my hours are really whenever and wherever.
I love my job, but I'm going nuts. I had a smoking client for 7 days of the last 13. A couple of those days when my shift ended I felt like I was going to be sick (I'm a non-smoker).
I want to tell the office I won't work with smoking clients, but the husband and I aren't financially in a position where I can pick and choose, since we both work and go to school, but I'm the only one who can really get full-time in around my classes and our health insurance takes $250 out of his paycheck every two weeks and the extra money he makes goes to paying off his car and groceries.
I KNOW what I want to do, but without my MS (in two years) I can't do it.
For months I've been looking for a job, but what they don't tell you in school is that unless you're good in sales then nobody wants someone with an undergrad psychology degree. They want social work.
I can't tell you how many times I've heard people say social work degrees can do more than psychology degrees. Even my sister says it (and sounds extremely pissed off when discussing it, and she's very level-headed).
So now I'm faced with finding a place to get my PLADC (provisional licensed alcohol and drug counselor) and potentially losing work hours, or find a way to beef up my credentials by taking classes (can't afford to just drop $500 on CNA classes, not at this moment, and keep in mind I'm already a full-time grad student), or find a second job - but most places I've looked want someone who can also do weekends, and I actually have a steady weekend client.
I find myself bouncing around. I had one teacher tell me a PLADC was basically worthless. He also told my class we should get life coach certified, to add to our resume, but that it's kind of silly (cynical much?).
I'm finding so many things I CAN do until I get my MS (in counseling), and that doing them might be beneficial in the long run but absurdly selfish in the immediate future. $500 for a CNA course? Rent's covered, but we like to make sure at least the next month's is good too.
Life coach, CNA, PLADC, hell I've even looked at wedding planning and getting ordained. Because maybe it would be SOMETHING that works.
I'm the main breadwinner in our household, the money isn't terrible, but I'm the one whose credentials don't mean anything to prospective employers, the one who barely makes above minimum wage, and I keep finding myself faced with "what ifs." Like "what if I can't afford car insurance when my car is signed over to me next month?" because then I CAN'T work (job requires proof of insurance, since I transport clients) AND it's kind of illegal.
I'm done with my vent now.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Even a minor impact is still an impact
I know it's been a while. Not too much has really been going on to talk about.
Even so, there are still small things that happen that manage to make an impact on life.
And one in particular is a literal impact.
On my way to my client Sunday morning I was sitting at a stoplight. And all I could do was watch as this moron behind me slowly bumped into me.
I can't even begin to express just how pissed off I was at this turn of events, and how freaked out.
I got out of the car, and the guy in the SUV asked if I was ok. I told him I was going to be late for work. Then as I started calling work and leaving them a message saying I would be late and why, do you know what he does?
He drives off.
Yeah, I called the cops and filed a report on a hit and run. He may have been going slowly, but there was definitely at least a little damage to the back bumper of my car.
And now, 5.5 days after... I'm still jumpy, watching people even more carefully than I did before.
I know it's only normal after a car accident to be wary of other people on the road, even more wary than usual. And I know it hasn't even been a week since then. I know you have to give things time.
But every time I'm on the road I keep thinking about what if someone hits me. I mean, this guy wasn't going more than about ten miles per hour while I was stopped. What if this happens when I'm going sixty or something? I don't think that my car OR I would get off that easily.
I have to wonder how much longer I'll be quite this jumpy.
I mean, it's not BAD or anything, but I'm definitely more jittery than usual.
I guess it'll just take some time... And no more accidents.
ETA: I just got off the phone with the police. They just called to let me know they had information on the person who hit me. Looks like we're finally making progress :)
Even so, there are still small things that happen that manage to make an impact on life.
And one in particular is a literal impact.
On my way to my client Sunday morning I was sitting at a stoplight. And all I could do was watch as this moron behind me slowly bumped into me.
I can't even begin to express just how pissed off I was at this turn of events, and how freaked out.
I got out of the car, and the guy in the SUV asked if I was ok. I told him I was going to be late for work. Then as I started calling work and leaving them a message saying I would be late and why, do you know what he does?
He drives off.
Yeah, I called the cops and filed a report on a hit and run. He may have been going slowly, but there was definitely at least a little damage to the back bumper of my car.
And now, 5.5 days after... I'm still jumpy, watching people even more carefully than I did before.
I know it's only normal after a car accident to be wary of other people on the road, even more wary than usual. And I know it hasn't even been a week since then. I know you have to give things time.
But every time I'm on the road I keep thinking about what if someone hits me. I mean, this guy wasn't going more than about ten miles per hour while I was stopped. What if this happens when I'm going sixty or something? I don't think that my car OR I would get off that easily.
I have to wonder how much longer I'll be quite this jumpy.
I mean, it's not BAD or anything, but I'm definitely more jittery than usual.
I guess it'll just take some time... And no more accidents.
ETA: I just got off the phone with the police. They just called to let me know they had information on the person who hit me. Looks like we're finally making progress :)
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Borders bookstores
It's a sad, sad moment in my life.
Borders bookstores are OFFICIALLY going out of business.
Not that this was news to anyone (except for me, apparently). I knew their stores has been closing. But two of the stores near me had just remodeled a bit, so it's not like I was expecting them to go anytime soon!
With that said, I have expanded my bookshelves a LOT in the past week. I do mean a LOT.
Anybody who knows me knows that at home one tall bookshelf was pushing my luck. At school the 3 shelves I was given above my desk were pushing their luck - and those were only the books I WANTED to take to school with me!
Now I've got 2 tall bookshelves, which will be full whenever I get another peg to put underneath one of the shelves since it broke while it was being moved into the apartment. I could really use a 3rd tall shelf.
DH and I are in the process of cleaning (which means I'm STILL cleaning what was moved in 3 weeks ago, because I really don't want to touch it - there's just so much stuff!) so the third shelf will have to wait.
It's kind of sad that Borders is closing. In the last 4 years or so I've finally gotten to the point that I LOVE Borders, and if I didn't need food then I could kill an entire day in the store!
And of course my nerdy random thought was "My kids will think I'm nuts when I talk about Michael Jackson and his music and dancing, Patrick Swayze and his movies and dancing (and why mom would've REALLY loved dancing with him), and Borders bookstores!
'Mom, what's a Borders?'
'It's a BOOKSTORE! How could you not know that??'
'Mom, you're ancient. Those don't exist. How was I to know? What's a book look like? We have these things called e-readers, Kindles, and Nooks now. And iPads. Who's Patrick Swayze?' 'Wait, you mean you've never seen Dirty Dancing? WHOSE CHILD ARE YOU???'"
Yup, I can see it now.
So in the last week I have been to 3 different Borders stores. And I've been to a Borders in general at least 10 times.
Thanks to the "Going Out of Business Sale" (AKA the "GOOB sale" or "GOOBS," as I like to say... seriously, Borders, "Liquidation" is shorter!) I have successfully begun working on one of those fabulously full bookshelves that my college professors always had!
Granted, some don't look as "professional," but I make sure to check out the references they list in the book. And I've been going for ones that i'd be likely to use as a therapist. Like on ADD, psychiatric drugs, divorce, prescription painkillers, eating disorders, dealing with the death of a loved one, and aging parents.
...
I don't the "The Psychology of Harry Potter" will get me anything at work except maybe some brownie points!
Hopefully the books will be super useful when it comes to writing papers.
There were so many more books I would've LOVED to look for, but unfortunately some people aren't very good at distinguishing between "self-help" books and "psychology" books.
I can guarantee i'll hit up Borders a few more times before it closes for good (sadness!!), but I think I'm pretty well set on things. At least for now. Until the DSM-V comes out. Which reminds me, I need to buy the DSM-IV-TR, since someone ripped me off... But that's another story.
(Random note on books: I'm looking for books on making bags. So instead of buying a bunch of new bags for school and work, I can just make them myself after I buy the fabric (and maybe figure out how to make handles...) Any suggestions?)
Borders bookstores are OFFICIALLY going out of business.
Not that this was news to anyone (except for me, apparently). I knew their stores has been closing. But two of the stores near me had just remodeled a bit, so it's not like I was expecting them to go anytime soon!
With that said, I have expanded my bookshelves a LOT in the past week. I do mean a LOT.
Anybody who knows me knows that at home one tall bookshelf was pushing my luck. At school the 3 shelves I was given above my desk were pushing their luck - and those were only the books I WANTED to take to school with me!
Now I've got 2 tall bookshelves, which will be full whenever I get another peg to put underneath one of the shelves since it broke while it was being moved into the apartment. I could really use a 3rd tall shelf.
DH and I are in the process of cleaning (which means I'm STILL cleaning what was moved in 3 weeks ago, because I really don't want to touch it - there's just so much stuff!) so the third shelf will have to wait.
It's kind of sad that Borders is closing. In the last 4 years or so I've finally gotten to the point that I LOVE Borders, and if I didn't need food then I could kill an entire day in the store!
And of course my nerdy random thought was "My kids will think I'm nuts when I talk about Michael Jackson and his music and dancing, Patrick Swayze and his movies and dancing (and why mom would've REALLY loved dancing with him), and Borders bookstores!
'Mom, what's a Borders?'
'It's a BOOKSTORE! How could you not know that??'
'Mom, you're ancient. Those don't exist. How was I to know? What's a book look like? We have these things called e-readers, Kindles, and Nooks now. And iPads. Who's Patrick Swayze?' 'Wait, you mean you've never seen Dirty Dancing? WHOSE CHILD ARE YOU???'"
Yup, I can see it now.
So in the last week I have been to 3 different Borders stores. And I've been to a Borders in general at least 10 times.
Thanks to the "Going Out of Business Sale" (AKA the "GOOB sale" or "GOOBS," as I like to say... seriously, Borders, "Liquidation" is shorter!) I have successfully begun working on one of those fabulously full bookshelves that my college professors always had!
Granted, some don't look as "professional," but I make sure to check out the references they list in the book. And I've been going for ones that i'd be likely to use as a therapist. Like on ADD, psychiatric drugs, divorce, prescription painkillers, eating disorders, dealing with the death of a loved one, and aging parents.
...
I don't the "The Psychology of Harry Potter" will get me anything at work except maybe some brownie points!
Hopefully the books will be super useful when it comes to writing papers.
There were so many more books I would've LOVED to look for, but unfortunately some people aren't very good at distinguishing between "self-help" books and "psychology" books.
I can guarantee i'll hit up Borders a few more times before it closes for good (sadness!!), but I think I'm pretty well set on things. At least for now. Until the DSM-V comes out. Which reminds me, I need to buy the DSM-IV-TR, since someone ripped me off... But that's another story.
(Random note on books: I'm looking for books on making bags. So instead of buying a bunch of new bags for school and work, I can just make them myself after I buy the fabric (and maybe figure out how to make handles...) Any suggestions?)
3 more days!
My birthday is on Saturday.
Now typically I'm not excited about birthdays.
Actually, even this birthday I'm not as excited as you might think. Especially considering that I'll be turning 21.
We've figured out that we're going out after I get off work. Get some dinner, maybe I'll try a few drinks (the one most recommended to me is a Sex on the Beach, followed by mudslides and other such things that don't really smell or taste of alcohol).
And then laser tag.
Oh, DH was certain to tell me that if I fall over then he and my younger BIL will just stand over me and get in a bunch of hits.
...
Thank you, dear. I appreciate you so much. Jerk. (☺ Silly boys)
I took Sunday off from work. Not from anticipation of a hangover, but I guess it would be fairly reasonable. Although I have high hopes that I will drink responsibly enough to not get to that point - although I'm quite sure I'm considered a lightweight and I don't drink to begin with.
Umm... I really have nothing else to say about my birthday... It seemed like such a good topic (wow, ego much? ☺) when I began writing, and it has since gone out the window
Now typically I'm not excited about birthdays.
Actually, even this birthday I'm not as excited as you might think. Especially considering that I'll be turning 21.
We've figured out that we're going out after I get off work. Get some dinner, maybe I'll try a few drinks (the one most recommended to me is a Sex on the Beach, followed by mudslides and other such things that don't really smell or taste of alcohol).
And then laser tag.
Oh, DH was certain to tell me that if I fall over then he and my younger BIL will just stand over me and get in a bunch of hits.
...
Thank you, dear. I appreciate you so much. Jerk. (☺ Silly boys)
I took Sunday off from work. Not from anticipation of a hangover, but I guess it would be fairly reasonable. Although I have high hopes that I will drink responsibly enough to not get to that point - although I'm quite sure I'm considered a lightweight and I don't drink to begin with.
Umm... I really have nothing else to say about my birthday... It seemed like such a good topic (wow, ego much? ☺) when I began writing, and it has since gone out the window
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I was supposed to be ashamed of the choices I make.
I can usually take some things in stride, but I can only take so much of people giving me shit about the decisions I make in my life.
Yes, there's something on my mind.
As you can clearly tell.
I eat processed food. Probably more than I should, but I do.
I watch what I eat, nonetheless.
I drink skim milk.
Actually, I drink cow's milk in general.
The only kind of soy milk I like is the vanilla stuff from Silk. Other than that I HATE soy milk.
Yes, I HAVE tried soy milk.
I even prefer lactose-free non-fat milk (see also: skim) to soy. It's actually pretty good.
I eat meat. I have no desire to NOT eat meat.
Yes, I CAN tell the difference between egg beaters and real eggs.
All the same, I am aware that egg beaters are "real" eggs, just not the whole thing. I don't really like egg beaters.
Yes, there is a difference between meats, and not just due to seasoning. Texture does play a part in it, and it has nothing to do with "what you expect it to be."
What I expect my meat to be is dead and fully cooked. I can't always tell the difference between, say, chicken and turkey, but I can tell the difference between beef and chicken.
I typically don't go for organic food. Don't ask me why. I'm not quite sure, myself. I had a reason, but I'm not entirely sure about it.
That's not to say I don't EVER go for organic. It's just that I'm not going to spend my time ONLY going for organic.
Drinking skim milk and eating processed food and meat will not kill me.
Not unless I neglect to take care of myself in general. And, you know, PAY ATTENTION.
My cholesterol isn't out of control. I keep a close eye on my (really good) blood pressure.
I'm probably at risk for diabetes. It runs in the family and I know it.
But I pay attention to my body.
Do NOT try to throw science in my face, going "Well, scientists say this."
I accept that's how you feel, but to try to use that to tell me what I am and am not experiencing is complete crap. For example, there's more to meat than "how it's seasoned."
Oh, and I can taste the difference between regular peanut butter and reduced fat. I prefer regular.
But do NOT try to make me feel inferior or ashamed of the choices I have made in my life.
Because, to be honest, I don't find a damn thing wrong with them.
To each their own.
Yes, there's something on my mind.
As you can clearly tell.
I eat processed food. Probably more than I should, but I do.
I watch what I eat, nonetheless.
I drink skim milk.
Actually, I drink cow's milk in general.
The only kind of soy milk I like is the vanilla stuff from Silk. Other than that I HATE soy milk.
Yes, I HAVE tried soy milk.
I even prefer lactose-free non-fat milk (see also: skim) to soy. It's actually pretty good.
I eat meat. I have no desire to NOT eat meat.
Yes, I CAN tell the difference between egg beaters and real eggs.
All the same, I am aware that egg beaters are "real" eggs, just not the whole thing. I don't really like egg beaters.
Yes, there is a difference between meats, and not just due to seasoning. Texture does play a part in it, and it has nothing to do with "what you expect it to be."
What I expect my meat to be is dead and fully cooked. I can't always tell the difference between, say, chicken and turkey, but I can tell the difference between beef and chicken.
I typically don't go for organic food. Don't ask me why. I'm not quite sure, myself. I had a reason, but I'm not entirely sure about it.
That's not to say I don't EVER go for organic. It's just that I'm not going to spend my time ONLY going for organic.
Drinking skim milk and eating processed food and meat will not kill me.
Not unless I neglect to take care of myself in general. And, you know, PAY ATTENTION.
My cholesterol isn't out of control. I keep a close eye on my (really good) blood pressure.
I'm probably at risk for diabetes. It runs in the family and I know it.
But I pay attention to my body.
Do NOT try to throw science in my face, going "Well, scientists say this."
I accept that's how you feel, but to try to use that to tell me what I am and am not experiencing is complete crap. For example, there's more to meat than "how it's seasoned."
Oh, and I can taste the difference between regular peanut butter and reduced fat. I prefer regular.
If you want to not eat meat and not drink cow's milk (or any milk from an animal) then be my guest.
But do NOT try to make me feel inferior or ashamed of the choices I have made in my life.
Because, to be honest, I don't find a damn thing wrong with them.
To each their own.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Finding happiness. Part 2
You know, when DH and I got married and the wedding was over and done with, I didn't feel the mysterious "wedding blues" that so many brides talk about. When they finish planning a wedding and then it seems like there's nothing more to do, because they planned and planned and then suddenly everything's over in the spam of one day.
I haven't felt that.
Truth be told, there was no reason for me to feel that. If anything, I was exceedingly glad that the wedding was over. After nearly 2.5 years, stress, stupid people, people trying to tell me what was right or wrong when really it was none if their business (I mean, who gives a damn if I don't have a guest book? Someone offered to give me one because I said DH and I saw no need for one and they didn't think it was right), all the flowers and decorations and ribbons I bought leading up to the wedding (some of which weren't even used), the extra programs and the brand new, unused invitations...
I was more than content leaving all that behind.
Not so content to find out that half the wedding crap ended up in the trunk of my car, reminding me of the things that didn't go all that well... Like how we ran out if rises because there were FAR more military members than I expected present, so I just looked like an idiot with a few extra people standing up front, empty-handed due to the lack of foresight (and their lack of RSVPs, making me have to guess).
And now, a month and a half later, I'm still upset at how my mother's memorial vase was done poorly.
Actually, I think shittily really sums up how I feel about it. I left someone else in charge of the vase and it ended up looking horrible, not doing my mother ANY justice and people were unable to read the engraving I had on the vase.
With the wedding over it was time to get back to real life. I welcomed the change.
But nothing seems different.
I know that might not make all that much sense. But it doesn't really feel like we're married. That can be a good or a bad thing, depending on how you look at it.
There has yet to be a moment that made me think "wow, I'm really married." Granted, we also both work pretty much opposite times, so most of the time it's trying to spend time together when we're not exhausted. Which is what most couples have to do, I guess...
This morning as I was trying to sleep it occurred to me that a year ago yesterday is when my mother had her stroke.
I don't always think about it, but sometimes can't help but remember that the day she had a stroke, I didn't even visit her. I was running late, so I only got a couple of hours in at my internship. Then I had to leave so I wouldn't miss my flight.
Typically when I was at my internship (at the assisted living facility) I made sure to drop by to see her. Even it was only for a short moment while I was taking mail to the residents all around the building.
It would figure that the day I was too preoccupied to bother was the last day I would've been able to see my mother outside of a hospital. Alive.
I called my sister when I couldn't sleep. It was around two in the morning her time, but she still made time to talk to me. And she made a couple valid points. For instance, I love my mother and she knew that. And my mother loved me
Nothing like a big sister, huh?
I'm not looking forward to the next couple weeks.
I turn 21, and the very next day it'll be a year since my mother died.
Doesn't really seem all that fair.
I figured I'll take off the 31st, even though it's my longest work day (10 hours) for my family. But sensibility says I'll take it off not just for them but to have a moment for me.
... I just hope work doesn't decide I'm taking it off to nurse a hangover. I have am aversion to pain.
I have to wonder what I'll do for my birthday. Going out with my friends sounds like fun. I wouldn't mind trying alcohol. I think.
Although staying home with a book sounds fun, too. I guess. But spending time with people you care about is just as nice.
Well, the next two weeks will work as they please.
And it makes it kind of hard to look forward to a birthday.
I haven't felt that.
Truth be told, there was no reason for me to feel that. If anything, I was exceedingly glad that the wedding was over. After nearly 2.5 years, stress, stupid people, people trying to tell me what was right or wrong when really it was none if their business (I mean, who gives a damn if I don't have a guest book? Someone offered to give me one because I said DH and I saw no need for one and they didn't think it was right), all the flowers and decorations and ribbons I bought leading up to the wedding (some of which weren't even used), the extra programs and the brand new, unused invitations...
I was more than content leaving all that behind.
Not so content to find out that half the wedding crap ended up in the trunk of my car, reminding me of the things that didn't go all that well... Like how we ran out if rises because there were FAR more military members than I expected present, so I just looked like an idiot with a few extra people standing up front, empty-handed due to the lack of foresight (and their lack of RSVPs, making me have to guess).
And now, a month and a half later, I'm still upset at how my mother's memorial vase was done poorly.
Actually, I think shittily really sums up how I feel about it. I left someone else in charge of the vase and it ended up looking horrible, not doing my mother ANY justice and people were unable to read the engraving I had on the vase.
With the wedding over it was time to get back to real life. I welcomed the change.
But nothing seems different.
I know that might not make all that much sense. But it doesn't really feel like we're married. That can be a good or a bad thing, depending on how you look at it.
There has yet to be a moment that made me think "wow, I'm really married." Granted, we also both work pretty much opposite times, so most of the time it's trying to spend time together when we're not exhausted. Which is what most couples have to do, I guess...
This morning as I was trying to sleep it occurred to me that a year ago yesterday is when my mother had her stroke.
I don't always think about it, but sometimes can't help but remember that the day she had a stroke, I didn't even visit her. I was running late, so I only got a couple of hours in at my internship. Then I had to leave so I wouldn't miss my flight.
Typically when I was at my internship (at the assisted living facility) I made sure to drop by to see her. Even it was only for a short moment while I was taking mail to the residents all around the building.
It would figure that the day I was too preoccupied to bother was the last day I would've been able to see my mother outside of a hospital. Alive.
I called my sister when I couldn't sleep. It was around two in the morning her time, but she still made time to talk to me. And she made a couple valid points. For instance, I love my mother and she knew that. And my mother loved me
Nothing like a big sister, huh?
I'm not looking forward to the next couple weeks.
I turn 21, and the very next day it'll be a year since my mother died.
Doesn't really seem all that fair.
I figured I'll take off the 31st, even though it's my longest work day (10 hours) for my family. But sensibility says I'll take it off not just for them but to have a moment for me.
... I just hope work doesn't decide I'm taking it off to nurse a hangover. I have am aversion to pain.
I have to wonder what I'll do for my birthday. Going out with my friends sounds like fun. I wouldn't mind trying alcohol. I think.
Although staying home with a book sounds fun, too. I guess. But spending time with people you care about is just as nice.
Well, the next two weeks will work as they please.
And it makes it kind of hard to look forward to a birthday.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Finding happiness. Part 1
The last couple of weeks have just been pretty up and down for me.
OBIL's birthday was last Monday (July 4th), so DH and I went to lunch with the ILs, and then we all shot off fireworks together.
...
There's nothing I hate more than when everyone's together trying to have a good time and someone wants to be a total buzzkill.
That is, someone wants to be with you while you're doing everything, but they don't actually want to DO anything. They just sit or stand there, and then complain.
Now, I'm sure I've had a few instances where that's happened (with me being the culprit), but it still irks me when it happens.
Earlier that day before we went to lunch with the ILs, I moved the majority of the rest of my stuff out of my dad's house.
Why?
Because his wife wanted my room to store extra clothing. Supposedly "winter" clothing, but really just extra stuff.
I'm assuming she'd been giving him hell about it.
But WHY? The closet she and my dad share is twice the size of the one I share with DH, AND she has more drawer space than we do, and we still manage to make everything fit.
And I assure you, I have a LOT of clothing. And shoes.
She even had the gall to pack up a box of what she assumed was my stuff and put it in my room - really, it was some of my sister's stuff.
I don't understand how someone can take advantage of the fact that another person is lonely. She frustrates me with all the stuff that she does - or, for that matter, DOESN'T do.
And she knows good and well that she would raise hell if my father treated her kids the same way that she's had the nerve to treat me. I can guarantee that when her oldest hellion moves out of the house, she'd have a fit if my father suggested or said that she needed to move ALL of her stuff to her own place.
Let me clarify:
"All of her stuff" is the equivalent to every childhood thing for the last however-long.
In my case that's the nearly-21-years of my life, most of which is now sitting in the living room floor at our 1-bedroom apartment. That's at least 4 moves from by the Air Force (that I can REMEMBER), one move out of base housing, high school and graduation, and then 3 years at college (but not including the graduation because we had an apartment by then, all of a day). That's NOT including a tub of stuffed animals, a tub of Barbies (yes, I still have them... no clue why), the new set of luggage I bought for myself and DH after Thanksgiving because we don't need them yet, the Christmas ornaments DH got me for Christmas, the stuff I had to put in storage because I'm pretty sure she's not willing to put ANY of her crap into storage, and a few other odds and ends. Like my very first TV, which actually still works quite well (I know this because I took all 13 inches of it to college my first year) and therefore there's no need to get rid of it if you need to put another TV elsewhere.
And for the last week and a half I've been sitting in the apartment (when I'm not with a client), staring at the giant piles that have to go somewhere.
Like Goodwill.
Because where else will I be able to fit nearly 21 years of my life, 2 elementary schools, 2 middle schools, 1 high school, and one college, into a one-bedroom apartment?
DH and I purposely decided not to spend the extra $50/month to rent a garage, and if we had it would've been for one of our cars - probably mine.
And after multiple moves in my life, I can pack quickly... But that doesn't mean I like doing it.
That also doesn't mean I like to unpack.
And I know how much of this stuff will be going to Goodwill.
We finally took 2 boxes of our wedding stuff to Goodwill (see also: the stuff we shouldn't have gotten back in the first place), and we bags and excess of my stuff. Clothing. Shoes. Old prom dresses (which I suppose it was time for them to go anyway).
Now I have to decide on other clothes and whether or not I want to get rid of them.
Like the shirts that my dad and I paid for, from marching band, from varsity choir. The sweatshirts from said groups.
It's easier to get rid of things when you don't think about the memories invested in them.
Some people make them into quilts.
I have no idea how to quilt. And we already have enough blankets here, including at least one quilt that my dad's mom made - which we probably have with us as a guarantee that my dad's wife wouldn't trash it if given the opportunity.
I've also got a picture frame that I've had since not too long after I was born. With my name on it, a teddy bear (I've always loved teddy bears), and a poem. I think it was the "Sugar and spice and everything nice" poem.
I've also got a frame that my sister gave me around my tenth birthday that, again, has my name and a bear on it, and it breaks down good qualities, things that I "am" or "have."
And, well, there's the frame with a picture of the Sailor Scouts on it (yes, the Sailor Scouts).
Those 3 frames have been with me for the last decade. If not on my dresser then on the wall, or both.
Where are you supposed to put childhood things like that, things that clearly belong in a childhood bedroom and that were given with good intent, honesty, and lots of thought? I mean, a picture of the Sailor Scouts probably doesn't belong hanging up in the bedroom I share with my husband, or on the dresser I've had ever since I was born that's now in our bedroom (complete with the stickers I stuck on the side in elementary school, but you'll never see them unless you go in our closet).
I guess I could put the frames with my name on the wall above my desk, but that's just borderline overkill with hanging things up above my desk.
Somehow I've got to figure out how to merge the life I had as a child and the life I'll be leading as an adult.
Last I checked, when you live together you have to make some adjustments.
I've gotten past the stage of being angry at my dad's wife for myself.
Like when I rang the doorbell and then waited for about 3 minutes for her to open at, at which point she just handed me my mail and closed the door. And apparently didn't pay attention to the fact that the dog managed to get outside, so she had to open the door to let him in. And she said nothing to me. Just called the dog and then kept on going.
That angered me, but this is nothing new.
I should've been boiling FURIOUS.
But honestly? As much as it kinda irritates me, like a mosquito bite (and trust me, I scratch those. can't help it!), I'm kind of over it. Because she's whatever to me, at least in that sense.
Instead what infuriates me is how she is with my dad.
In public she's no nice to people. The fake-ness of it all it just disgusting. DH and I saw them at a public picnic last week, and she was just smiling away at everybody.
I have a picture of her and my dad at my wedding dancing. My dad looked happy to be with her.
And she looked equally happy to be with him.
I figured, "Oh, maybe there's just something I'm not seeing."
But I've always known what she's like. And I will always be a daddy's girl and stick up for him. And I know when something's not right.
The fact is that my dad will stick up for me as best he can without pissing her off because, let's face it, he has to live with her. I know that. I accept that.
My dad doesn't like arguments. My dad's a good guy. There's no way around that.
Sorry, this wasn't supposed to turn into a blog about my frustrations about the evil thing that my father married because he was lonely and thought she would make him happy.
But I guess that's where my thoughts have led.
Day after day I stare at the piles of stuff in our living room. And it depresses me to know that I have to clean it up. But I also don't WANT to. Because when this stuff goes to Goodwill, well, that's pieces of MY life that I'm throwing out. It's not just throwing out bits and pieces at a time because I know I won't use them or because the clothes won't fit or because it's now meaningless to me.
And I don't really have hoarding tendencies. Trust me, I try to avoid that. Actually, I prefer to have places clean.
In all reality, it's really not that much (when I count out the bags of recycling that the hubs forgot to put out yesterday. Oi...).
But going through it, alone... it's just rather daunting.
The past two days I had a friend over, to keep me company while I cleaned.
Granted, nothing got done yesterday because work took hours longer than I expected. But the day before? progress was made. Last week? I had another friend over, and a lot of progress was made.
I know that moving is considered a "major life event."
Where does this fall? Because technically DH and I already had our own place.
But at our parents' we each had our own bedrooms.
Granted, DH's room now has an exercise bike in it, in addition to the rest of his stuff. And he stayed in that room years longer than I stayed in mine - at least 5 years longer.
Now my bedroom, the bedroom that my dad, my brother, and I painted the perfect shade of sky blue after I hunted and hunted through all the paint samples, is going to be turned into a guest bedroom.
If "we need a guest bedroom" was the initial reason for it, I wouldn't be as bothered as I was by "She needs space to put her clothes." I mean, there was a bunk bed in that room. Full-size mattress on the bottom, but nonetheless there was metal above your head when you woke up. And if you weren't used to it, well, I'm sure that would hurt a lot if you woke up and sat straight up.
I dunno, I guess it just hurts.
I'll get over it at some point. I hope.
Maybe when the evidence of it all isn't just sitting in our living room floor.
OBIL's birthday was last Monday (July 4th), so DH and I went to lunch with the ILs, and then we all shot off fireworks together.
...
There's nothing I hate more than when everyone's together trying to have a good time and someone wants to be a total buzzkill.
That is, someone wants to be with you while you're doing everything, but they don't actually want to DO anything. They just sit or stand there, and then complain.
Now, I'm sure I've had a few instances where that's happened (with me being the culprit), but it still irks me when it happens.
Earlier that day before we went to lunch with the ILs, I moved the majority of the rest of my stuff out of my dad's house.
Why?
Because his wife wanted my room to store extra clothing. Supposedly "winter" clothing, but really just extra stuff.
I'm assuming she'd been giving him hell about it.
But WHY? The closet she and my dad share is twice the size of the one I share with DH, AND she has more drawer space than we do, and we still manage to make everything fit.
And I assure you, I have a LOT of clothing. And shoes.
She even had the gall to pack up a box of what she assumed was my stuff and put it in my room - really, it was some of my sister's stuff.
I don't understand how someone can take advantage of the fact that another person is lonely. She frustrates me with all the stuff that she does - or, for that matter, DOESN'T do.
And she knows good and well that she would raise hell if my father treated her kids the same way that she's had the nerve to treat me. I can guarantee that when her oldest hellion moves out of the house, she'd have a fit if my father suggested or said that she needed to move ALL of her stuff to her own place.
Let me clarify:
"All of her stuff" is the equivalent to every childhood thing for the last however-long.
In my case that's the nearly-21-years of my life, most of which is now sitting in the living room floor at our 1-bedroom apartment. That's at least 4 moves from by the Air Force (that I can REMEMBER), one move out of base housing, high school and graduation, and then 3 years at college (but not including the graduation because we had an apartment by then, all of a day). That's NOT including a tub of stuffed animals, a tub of Barbies (yes, I still have them... no clue why), the new set of luggage I bought for myself and DH after Thanksgiving because we don't need them yet, the Christmas ornaments DH got me for Christmas, the stuff I had to put in storage because I'm pretty sure she's not willing to put ANY of her crap into storage, and a few other odds and ends. Like my very first TV, which actually still works quite well (I know this because I took all 13 inches of it to college my first year) and therefore there's no need to get rid of it if you need to put another TV elsewhere.
And for the last week and a half I've been sitting in the apartment (when I'm not with a client), staring at the giant piles that have to go somewhere.
Like Goodwill.
Because where else will I be able to fit nearly 21 years of my life, 2 elementary schools, 2 middle schools, 1 high school, and one college, into a one-bedroom apartment?
DH and I purposely decided not to spend the extra $50/month to rent a garage, and if we had it would've been for one of our cars - probably mine.
And after multiple moves in my life, I can pack quickly... But that doesn't mean I like doing it.
That also doesn't mean I like to unpack.
And I know how much of this stuff will be going to Goodwill.
We finally took 2 boxes of our wedding stuff to Goodwill (see also: the stuff we shouldn't have gotten back in the first place), and we bags and excess of my stuff. Clothing. Shoes. Old prom dresses (which I suppose it was time for them to go anyway).
Now I have to decide on other clothes and whether or not I want to get rid of them.
Like the shirts that my dad and I paid for, from marching band, from varsity choir. The sweatshirts from said groups.
It's easier to get rid of things when you don't think about the memories invested in them.
Some people make them into quilts.
I have no idea how to quilt. And we already have enough blankets here, including at least one quilt that my dad's mom made - which we probably have with us as a guarantee that my dad's wife wouldn't trash it if given the opportunity.
I've also got a picture frame that I've had since not too long after I was born. With my name on it, a teddy bear (I've always loved teddy bears), and a poem. I think it was the "Sugar and spice and everything nice" poem.
I've also got a frame that my sister gave me around my tenth birthday that, again, has my name and a bear on it, and it breaks down good qualities, things that I "am" or "have."
And, well, there's the frame with a picture of the Sailor Scouts on it (yes, the Sailor Scouts).
Those 3 frames have been with me for the last decade. If not on my dresser then on the wall, or both.
Where are you supposed to put childhood things like that, things that clearly belong in a childhood bedroom and that were given with good intent, honesty, and lots of thought? I mean, a picture of the Sailor Scouts probably doesn't belong hanging up in the bedroom I share with my husband, or on the dresser I've had ever since I was born that's now in our bedroom (complete with the stickers I stuck on the side in elementary school, but you'll never see them unless you go in our closet).
I guess I could put the frames with my name on the wall above my desk, but that's just borderline overkill with hanging things up above my desk.
Somehow I've got to figure out how to merge the life I had as a child and the life I'll be leading as an adult.
Last I checked, when you live together you have to make some adjustments.
I've gotten past the stage of being angry at my dad's wife for myself.
Like when I rang the doorbell and then waited for about 3 minutes for her to open at, at which point she just handed me my mail and closed the door. And apparently didn't pay attention to the fact that the dog managed to get outside, so she had to open the door to let him in. And she said nothing to me. Just called the dog and then kept on going.
That angered me, but this is nothing new.
I should've been boiling FURIOUS.
But honestly? As much as it kinda irritates me, like a mosquito bite (and trust me, I scratch those. can't help it!), I'm kind of over it. Because she's whatever to me, at least in that sense.
Instead what infuriates me is how she is with my dad.
In public she's no nice to people. The fake-ness of it all it just disgusting. DH and I saw them at a public picnic last week, and she was just smiling away at everybody.
I have a picture of her and my dad at my wedding dancing. My dad looked happy to be with her.
And she looked equally happy to be with him.
I figured, "Oh, maybe there's just something I'm not seeing."
But I've always known what she's like. And I will always be a daddy's girl and stick up for him. And I know when something's not right.
The fact is that my dad will stick up for me as best he can without pissing her off because, let's face it, he has to live with her. I know that. I accept that.
My dad doesn't like arguments. My dad's a good guy. There's no way around that.
Sorry, this wasn't supposed to turn into a blog about my frustrations about the evil thing that my father married because he was lonely and thought she would make him happy.
But I guess that's where my thoughts have led.
Day after day I stare at the piles of stuff in our living room. And it depresses me to know that I have to clean it up. But I also don't WANT to. Because when this stuff goes to Goodwill, well, that's pieces of MY life that I'm throwing out. It's not just throwing out bits and pieces at a time because I know I won't use them or because the clothes won't fit or because it's now meaningless to me.
And I don't really have hoarding tendencies. Trust me, I try to avoid that. Actually, I prefer to have places clean.
In all reality, it's really not that much (when I count out the bags of recycling that the hubs forgot to put out yesterday. Oi...).
But going through it, alone... it's just rather daunting.
The past two days I had a friend over, to keep me company while I cleaned.
Granted, nothing got done yesterday because work took hours longer than I expected. But the day before? progress was made. Last week? I had another friend over, and a lot of progress was made.
I know that moving is considered a "major life event."
Where does this fall? Because technically DH and I already had our own place.
But at our parents' we each had our own bedrooms.
Granted, DH's room now has an exercise bike in it, in addition to the rest of his stuff. And he stayed in that room years longer than I stayed in mine - at least 5 years longer.
Now my bedroom, the bedroom that my dad, my brother, and I painted the perfect shade of sky blue after I hunted and hunted through all the paint samples, is going to be turned into a guest bedroom.
If "we need a guest bedroom" was the initial reason for it, I wouldn't be as bothered as I was by "She needs space to put her clothes." I mean, there was a bunk bed in that room. Full-size mattress on the bottom, but nonetheless there was metal above your head when you woke up. And if you weren't used to it, well, I'm sure that would hurt a lot if you woke up and sat straight up.
I dunno, I guess it just hurts.
I'll get over it at some point. I hope.
Maybe when the evidence of it all isn't just sitting in our living room floor.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
What's in a name?
I'm just a little perplexed right now. I even admit it!
(The first step IS admitting it, right?)
I'm just going to go ahead and spout a bit of rambling, frustrated nonsense here.
So my beef with today:
People who think that not having the same last name makes you any less married (or a family!) than you are.
It's just been my frustration ever since the wedding.
Don't get me wrong, I look forward to the day where not only have I gotten over my aversion to LOOKING at the stupid paperwork, but I'll actually have it COMPLETE and then DH and I can have the same last name.
But somehow that translates into me being a bad person if I keep my maiden name in any way, shape, or form. Or if I even THINK about it.
I've had the same last name for nearly 21 years at this point. That's part of who I am.
And even when I get around to changing my name, if I really feel up to the hassle, I'll still be the same person. heck, I'll just be tacking on an extra name. I'm not cutting off one part of me to make room for another.
Even better, I LIKE my last name. Changing it doesn't make it go anywhere other than not at the end.
We were barely married for two days before I had someone go "Are you changing your name? Just curious."
I also had "Your name is __________ now. I need you to update!" (both via Facebook)
The second person? I took it in stride.
The first person? Kinda irritated me. Because after all these months I've paid attention. I knew her long before she got married, I know how her statuses revolve (wow, that sounds petty and lame, but you know what I mean! I see a PATTERN), and I'd barely been married 2 days (let's say 52 hours) and you're going to ask me about my name? Not even a remote congrats, just "are you changing your name?"
And newly married people who should KNOW better with things like, oh, WRITING CHECKS.
Not that I'm opposed to the fact that people were generous enough to write us checks. I'm very grateful for the fact that people were kind enough to write us checks.
But when people, especially those who are newly married, write us a check that combines my first name and his last name... Does that say that i'm supposed to give up who I am just because I'm married?
Oh, and I can't do a damn thing with a check that doesn't have my real name on it.
I'm amazed that some people think a name change in general is easy.
Maybe if you don't like your name, or you feel no personal connection to it, or if you've been practicing writing your new one, or if, I dunno, you don't have a clue who you are so you want to use the name as a link to someone.
One thing I've never understood:
Changing your Facebook name to something that isn't legally your name after you become married.
To clarify: That is NOT against anyone who has done this. I know and actually like a few people who have done this. It's just not for me.
I admit, I got excited when I saw things come addressed to:
"Mr. and Mrs. (his last name),"
"Mr. and Mrs. (his first name) (his last name),"
"(his first name) and (my first name) (his last name),"
or even just to "(my first name) (his last name)."
But I hate to say that it lost its appeal rather quickly. Like my last name isn't very good.
Why couldn't he take my last name? Huh?
I'm pretty sure that we'd get QUITE a few weird looks if we did that.
And while I'd have a pretty BOSS last name (oh God, I just thought of one of my friends... "Like a BOSS." *sigh*) if I were to hyphenate it, well, I just don't want to hyphenate it. I don't. End of story.
It's almost like nobody's taken my feelings into account here. Like we're still a hundred years ago, fifty years ago, or even 25 years ago and it automatically has to be his rule.
Sorry, but we don't work that way.
Alright now, we've got wedding stuff to throw in the trash. I'm out.
(The first step IS admitting it, right?)
I'm just going to go ahead and spout a bit of rambling, frustrated nonsense here.
So my beef with today:
People who think that not having the same last name makes you any less married (or a family!) than you are.
It's just been my frustration ever since the wedding.
Don't get me wrong, I look forward to the day where not only have I gotten over my aversion to LOOKING at the stupid paperwork, but I'll actually have it COMPLETE and then DH and I can have the same last name.
But somehow that translates into me being a bad person if I keep my maiden name in any way, shape, or form. Or if I even THINK about it.
I've had the same last name for nearly 21 years at this point. That's part of who I am.
And even when I get around to changing my name, if I really feel up to the hassle, I'll still be the same person. heck, I'll just be tacking on an extra name. I'm not cutting off one part of me to make room for another.
Even better, I LIKE my last name. Changing it doesn't make it go anywhere other than not at the end.
We were barely married for two days before I had someone go "Are you changing your name? Just curious."
I also had "Your name is __________ now. I need you to update!" (both via Facebook)
The second person? I took it in stride.
The first person? Kinda irritated me. Because after all these months I've paid attention. I knew her long before she got married, I know how her statuses revolve (wow, that sounds petty and lame, but you know what I mean! I see a PATTERN), and I'd barely been married 2 days (let's say 52 hours) and you're going to ask me about my name? Not even a remote congrats, just "are you changing your name?"
And newly married people who should KNOW better with things like, oh, WRITING CHECKS.
Not that I'm opposed to the fact that people were generous enough to write us checks. I'm very grateful for the fact that people were kind enough to write us checks.
But when people, especially those who are newly married, write us a check that combines my first name and his last name... Does that say that i'm supposed to give up who I am just because I'm married?
Oh, and I can't do a damn thing with a check that doesn't have my real name on it.
I'm amazed that some people think a name change in general is easy.
Maybe if you don't like your name, or you feel no personal connection to it, or if you've been practicing writing your new one, or if, I dunno, you don't have a clue who you are so you want to use the name as a link to someone.
One thing I've never understood:
Changing your Facebook name to something that isn't legally your name after you become married.
To clarify: That is NOT against anyone who has done this. I know and actually like a few people who have done this. It's just not for me.
I admit, I got excited when I saw things come addressed to:
"Mr. and Mrs. (his last name),"
"Mr. and Mrs. (his first name) (his last name),"
"(his first name) and (my first name) (his last name),"
or even just to "(my first name) (his last name)."
But I hate to say that it lost its appeal rather quickly. Like my last name isn't very good.
Why couldn't he take my last name? Huh?
I'm pretty sure that we'd get QUITE a few weird looks if we did that.
And while I'd have a pretty BOSS last name (oh God, I just thought of one of my friends... "Like a BOSS." *sigh*) if I were to hyphenate it, well, I just don't want to hyphenate it. I don't. End of story.
It's almost like nobody's taken my feelings into account here. Like we're still a hundred years ago, fifty years ago, or even 25 years ago and it automatically has to be his rule.
Sorry, but we don't work that way.
Alright now, we've got wedding stuff to throw in the trash. I'm out.
Monday, June 27, 2011
"How's married life?"
(I figured I'll try to make up for my lack of posting... There are things I've been meaning to talk about, though!)
A question that we've gotten a lot in the 4 weeks since we've been married (although a lot more at the beginning) is "How's married life?"
How do people expect you to answer that?
"Oh, man, it SUCKS. BIG TIME."
Yeah, let's not and say we did.
What HAS been happening, though... DH finished up the class he was taking (so proud of him! he got either a 98 or 99-point-something-or-other % as his overall grade!).
I've slept on the couch a few times.
Yes, you read that right. Me. On the couch.
Right before and right after getting married, my workload was all over the place. And my back's been hurting for the last couple weeks. It's driving me nuts, and it's especially after work and when I'm trying to get comfortable to sleep.
And sometimes... My husband SNORES!
*GASP*
I admit it, I was the strange kid who couldn't sleep with someone snoring in my ear so I would sleep on the floor until I decided it wasn't comfortable, and THEN I got in the bed.
Oh, and our couch is REALLY comfortable. Just so you know.
I can't really think of anything that's different now than the 3 weeks we lived together before getting married. Or in general.
We don't see his folks as much, or my. Even though his family is a ten-minute drive away and my dad lives 3 minutes away.
Let's see... We do laundry. A lot, but not as often as before we got married (THANK GOD! I felt like I was doing a load or two of laundry daily!!).
We cook. We clean. We make plans.
I don't get how that's all that different from before we got married - and I mean even BEFORE we lived together!
What do people expect? To get some personal details?
Sorry, no can do!
With that said, married life is fine.
We're coming to agreements on things, just like we did before we're married.
For example, we grocery shop TOGETHER.
Shocker, ain't it?
But his free time to grocery shop is usually on the weekends so he'll go with his parents. And my free time to grocery shop, well, it's whenever I feel like it.
I tell you, we actually found stuff that both of us liked!
And the clarification about who likes what.
I remember when he bought me White Cheddar Cheez-Its and Hot and Spicy Cheez-Its. It was thoughtful because he knows I like Cheez-Its, but my love for the White Cheddar ones has worn off over the years. They're ok, but I'd prefer regular.
See, you learn things when you grocery shop together!
Which is a bit better than getting home and seeing something that one of us bought for the other and isn't likely to be touched (with the exception of when I'm starving at work because my body suddenly decided that I need something NOW! they were very beneficial).
And it was interesting seeing the nerdiness come out in both of us, and how we're trying to be healthier.
I have this thing about getting all my nutrients. If something tastes good and is full of fiber, you can guarantee I love it.
...
My roommates made fun of me because I had a giant thing of Metamucil.
Note: Don't ever get the coarse kind unless you want that whole crunchy, grainy business in your drink.
My point is, even though not much has changed, we're still learning and working out ways to make it work.
For instance: If I have to be at work at 8:30 and he has a meeting at 8:30, it takes me longer to get to my client than for him to get to work, he showers longer but I take longer to get ready, I HAVE to eat breakfast and love to sleep in, he gets up earlier (sometimes), etc... Then WHO SHOWERS FIRST???
So far?
So good.
Here's to making it work!
☺♥♫
A question that we've gotten a lot in the 4 weeks since we've been married (although a lot more at the beginning) is "How's married life?"
How do people expect you to answer that?
"Oh, man, it SUCKS. BIG TIME."
Yeah, let's not and say we did.
What HAS been happening, though... DH finished up the class he was taking (so proud of him! he got either a 98 or 99-point-something-or-other % as his overall grade!).
I've slept on the couch a few times.
Yes, you read that right. Me. On the couch.
Right before and right after getting married, my workload was all over the place. And my back's been hurting for the last couple weeks. It's driving me nuts, and it's especially after work and when I'm trying to get comfortable to sleep.
And sometimes... My husband SNORES!
*GASP*
I admit it, I was the strange kid who couldn't sleep with someone snoring in my ear so I would sleep on the floor until I decided it wasn't comfortable, and THEN I got in the bed.
Oh, and our couch is REALLY comfortable. Just so you know.
I can't really think of anything that's different now than the 3 weeks we lived together before getting married. Or in general.
We don't see his folks as much, or my. Even though his family is a ten-minute drive away and my dad lives 3 minutes away.
Let's see... We do laundry. A lot, but not as often as before we got married (THANK GOD! I felt like I was doing a load or two of laundry daily!!).
We cook. We clean. We make plans.
I don't get how that's all that different from before we got married - and I mean even BEFORE we lived together!
What do people expect? To get some personal details?
Sorry, no can do!
With that said, married life is fine.
We're coming to agreements on things, just like we did before we're married.
For example, we grocery shop TOGETHER.
Shocker, ain't it?
But his free time to grocery shop is usually on the weekends so he'll go with his parents. And my free time to grocery shop, well, it's whenever I feel like it.
I tell you, we actually found stuff that both of us liked!
And the clarification about who likes what.
I remember when he bought me White Cheddar Cheez-Its and Hot and Spicy Cheez-Its. It was thoughtful because he knows I like Cheez-Its, but my love for the White Cheddar ones has worn off over the years. They're ok, but I'd prefer regular.
See, you learn things when you grocery shop together!
Which is a bit better than getting home and seeing something that one of us bought for the other and isn't likely to be touched (with the exception of when I'm starving at work because my body suddenly decided that I need something NOW! they were very beneficial).
And it was interesting seeing the nerdiness come out in both of us, and how we're trying to be healthier.
I have this thing about getting all my nutrients. If something tastes good and is full of fiber, you can guarantee I love it.
...
My roommates made fun of me because I had a giant thing of Metamucil.
Note: Don't ever get the coarse kind unless you want that whole crunchy, grainy business in your drink.
My point is, even though not much has changed, we're still learning and working out ways to make it work.
For instance: If I have to be at work at 8:30 and he has a meeting at 8:30, it takes me longer to get to my client than for him to get to work, he showers longer but I take longer to get ready, I HAVE to eat breakfast and love to sleep in, he gets up earlier (sometimes), etc... Then WHO SHOWERS FIRST???
So far?
So good.
Here's to making it work!
☺♥♫
Random thought of the day: Orangejello and LeMonjello
I apparently have times of day where I have the weirdest thoughts.
Usually it's in the morning.
For instance, one day on the way to work I saw a leaf blowing across the road.
Ok, let me give you some background information so you can see where this is going.
I live in Nebraska. Yes, NEBRASKA. As in, we have people, we have electricity, yes we even have black people (hello!!), we have lakes and rivers and all, but we DO NOT HAVE SALT WATER.
Ok, back to the story.
So I saw this leaf blowing across the road. And it reminded me of a giant shrimp.
I laughed to myself when I thought about this.
Then suddenly my brain goes "OH MY GOD YOU JUST RAN OVER A GIANT SHRIMP! AAAAAHHHHHHH!"
...
Yes, this happened. And I calmly said to myself "Shut the hell up. Nut job."
Alrighty then, now that we see that I have random thoughts, I'll keep going.
Most of my random thoughts happen in the morning. In the shower, no less.
Probably my brain saying "Why are you up so early, you freak? Go back to bed!"
So this morning the random song in my head (yes, song. we're making progress!) was the 1999 song by LFO called "Summer Girls."
If you're not too young then you should know what I mean.
"New Kids on the Block had a bunch of hits. Chinese food makes me sick. And I think it's fly when girls girls stop by for the summer, for the summer."
After I finished getting this song OUT of my head (!!! last time it was Backstreet Boys. Woo...), I started thinking about a thread where people were talking about some of the weird names that they'd seen and heard.
If I haven't said it before (or if you haven't figured it out), my thought progression is weird. I promise it made sense at the time, but it was also 7:15 in the morning.
So I got to thinking about the strange things people name their kids.
Like Orangejello and LeMonjello.
Yes, you read that right.
Orange. Jello.
Lemon. Jello.
I'm sorry, people, but no matter how you put it, you named your kid after a JELLO FLAVOR!
You can pronounce it "O-rahn-juh-loh" or "luh-mahn-juh-loh" ALL that you WANT, but the fact remains that you still named your kid after JELLO.
Or "Abcde."
Which is supposedly the equivalent of "Ab-sih-dee" or "Ab-suh-dee." Or maybe even "Eb-sih-dee."
Then there's "Shithead."
I kids you not, people actually name their children this.
But not with the, uh, usual pronunciation, if you catch my drift.
...
Hold on, I have to Google how you actually pronounce this.
...
Ok, so we've got "Shuh-thayd" or "Shih-thayd."
Or "Shuh-theed"/"Shih-theed."
Even better, when I Googled the name, other names came up, too!
Like naming your child Syphilis or Testicles.
Here's the website:
http://www.snopes.com/racial/language/names.asp
People, save your kid the trouble.
Ok, I got teased in 5th grade when people kept asking me "What's your secret."
And my last name, though not exactly the most profound thing in the world, kept getting me jokes about weapons.
I've known people who were upset with their names because of a spelling difference. I knew a Rhianon who wanted to change her named because she wanted a total of 3 n's in it (Rhiannon).
I've also known people who embraced the fact that their names weren't the usual Britney/Brittany, Ashley, Courtney that were apparently VERY popular when I was born (and I do mean VERY popular), even though it had the potential of meaning that they wouldn't necessarily be able to go to a gift shop and find something with their name on it. I knew a Rynae (Renee), and I thought it was a pretty name.
But I can't really think of any kid that would be thankful to be named Syphilis or Shithead once s/he gets to high school and actually figures out what it is - or when the other kids find out what it is... Nevermind some of the teachers that happen to be out there.
Parents, don't be jerks. No kid deserves Gonorrhea. In any way.
That is all.
Usually it's in the morning.
For instance, one day on the way to work I saw a leaf blowing across the road.
Ok, let me give you some background information so you can see where this is going.
I live in Nebraska. Yes, NEBRASKA. As in, we have people, we have electricity, yes we even have black people (hello!!), we have lakes and rivers and all, but we DO NOT HAVE SALT WATER.
Ok, back to the story.
So I saw this leaf blowing across the road. And it reminded me of a giant shrimp.
I laughed to myself when I thought about this.
Then suddenly my brain goes "OH MY GOD YOU JUST RAN OVER A GIANT SHRIMP! AAAAAHHHHHHH!"
...
Yes, this happened. And I calmly said to myself "Shut the hell up. Nut job."
Alrighty then, now that we see that I have random thoughts, I'll keep going.
Most of my random thoughts happen in the morning. In the shower, no less.
Probably my brain saying "Why are you up so early, you freak? Go back to bed!"
So this morning the random song in my head (yes, song. we're making progress!) was the 1999 song by LFO called "Summer Girls."
If you're not too young then you should know what I mean.
"New Kids on the Block had a bunch of hits. Chinese food makes me sick. And I think it's fly when girls girls stop by for the summer, for the summer."
After I finished getting this song OUT of my head (!!! last time it was Backstreet Boys. Woo...), I started thinking about a thread where people were talking about some of the weird names that they'd seen and heard.
If I haven't said it before (or if you haven't figured it out), my thought progression is weird. I promise it made sense at the time, but it was also 7:15 in the morning.
So I got to thinking about the strange things people name their kids.
Like Orangejello and LeMonjello.
Yes, you read that right.
Orange. Jello.
Lemon. Jello.
I'm sorry, people, but no matter how you put it, you named your kid after a JELLO FLAVOR!
You can pronounce it "O-rahn-juh-loh" or "luh-mahn-juh-loh" ALL that you WANT, but the fact remains that you still named your kid after JELLO.
Or "Abcde."
Which is supposedly the equivalent of "Ab-sih-dee" or "Ab-suh-dee." Or maybe even "Eb-sih-dee."
Then there's "Shithead."
I kids you not, people actually name their children this.
But not with the, uh, usual pronunciation, if you catch my drift.
...
Hold on, I have to Google how you actually pronounce this.
...
Ok, so we've got "Shuh-thayd" or "Shih-thayd."
Or "Shuh-theed"/"Shih-theed."
Even better, when I Googled the name, other names came up, too!
Like naming your child Syphilis or Testicles.
Here's the website:
http://www.snopes.com/racial/language/names.asp
People, save your kid the trouble.
Ok, I got teased in 5th grade when people kept asking me "What's your secret."
And my last name, though not exactly the most profound thing in the world, kept getting me jokes about weapons.
I've known people who were upset with their names because of a spelling difference. I knew a Rhianon who wanted to change her named because she wanted a total of 3 n's in it (Rhiannon).
I've also known people who embraced the fact that their names weren't the usual Britney/Brittany, Ashley, Courtney that were apparently VERY popular when I was born (and I do mean VERY popular), even though it had the potential of meaning that they wouldn't necessarily be able to go to a gift shop and find something with their name on it. I knew a Rynae (Renee), and I thought it was a pretty name.
But I can't really think of any kid that would be thankful to be named Syphilis or Shithead once s/he gets to high school and actually figures out what it is - or when the other kids find out what it is... Nevermind some of the teachers that happen to be out there.
Parents, don't be jerks. No kid deserves Gonorrhea. In any way.
That is all.
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