There are very few moments when I wish I had an aptitude for poetry. This is one of them. How fun it would be to cleverly and poetically demonize these people so adversely affecting my life in verse. Alas, I do not have a poetic bone in my body. It just seems like poetry and opera are two mediums that can adequately express the complete horror, demoralization, and tragedy of the situation.
Now, I'm being intentionally vague as I do not know all the people who actually read this and no use putting myself back in the hot water that I appear to have been slightly pulled out of. Not by much, but I appear to no longer be in a direct line of fire unlike last week. How sad is my life when not being in line for direct physical attack is "looking on the bright side?" But that's what it has become. You see there were certain acts committed by a person distantly close to me that have rained their destruction down on me personally and my husband. Because we insisted that the truth be provided and appropriate actions taken as a result. Well, this little confrontation ended up in our degradation for reasons such as: "It's none of our business." "We're too young to understand." "Child-rearing is not a perfect science." "Women have no place or say in this." "You have to respect this person." "You're tearing this [relationship unit] apart." Etc.
And through it all, perhaps the worst thing for me is that I never truly knew people could be this horrible. Not in real life. Or rather, not in my real life. Anyone who has a modicum of historical literacy understands that maniacal bastards have been tormenting people for thousands of years. However, it's nice to think we live in a civilized society and that people - especially those who cling to what they espouse to be Christian morals and beliefs ought to at least try to embrace this civilization. Well, they should, but the people in question most certainly have chosen a different path. And then used their "morals" to condemn us.
My complete shock is in no way adequately expressed here. I have been left speechless with it - and if you know me, that's quite the feat. I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to even go on with my daily life knowing that such horrible people exist and for a time were very close to me. Thankfully it was a very short period of time and I was always wary of their behavior anyway. But still, these people are alive and breathing down destruction with every move they make. It's completely put me on edge to a degree I might have to go on anti-anxiety meds because I just can't deal anymore. Which is - again - saying a lot.
In some ways it's probably good that we bought a house or I would already be packed and gone - off trying to find a new life. Now, I would go first and let my husband unwind stuff here so he could then join me, but we honestly can't swing it despite that being what we both want more than just about anything right now. I almost went to stay with my family is the frozen north this week, which I wish had happened because then I'd be snowed in indefinitely. But I didn't because plane tickets were absurdly expensive. So, I'm stuck here all by myself while my husband travels for work and it sucks. I've dealt with varying stages of depression for most of my life, but no bad event, circumstance, or decision ever truly shook my core world view. This has and I don't know where to go from here because I clearly can't continue with life as usual or it will smother me to death. I spend most of my days fighting the urge to either throw up at my desk or run away screaming down the hall. I'm incredibly afraid I'll get into a car accident or tumble down the stairs because I am so out of it. I haven't even been able to decorate my new Christmas tree correctly...despite having A Charlie Brown Christmas on in the background. That's how upset I am.
These bastards screwed with Christmas. That is going too far.
Yet, I have no recourse. The one upside is that we decided to go church on Sunday for the first time in over a year. We've been trying to go back for a long time and it's just very hard for me due to some bad experiences in the past. However, I feel that it's important and a good place to be. Especially now. And it was. I'm not sure if I've ever heard a sermon that spoke more my current situation or reaffirmed my faith and values more. That was certainly comforting. Strength in the Lord alone indeed.
So I have no idea where to go from here. We have an exit strategy in the slightly foreseeable future (if you consider 3-4 years foreseeable...) but even that is pretty shaky at the moment. At least Chelsea Handler's new book is being released in March. With that kind of humor in print, life can't be all bad can it? I sure hope not... Meanwhile, I'll be trying to rediscover some hope in the world or just suffocate. Whichever happens first.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Amazing
Amazing cartoon from the AJC's Mike Luckovich. Especially considering my great love for Eeyore. And the typical poor quality of anything in the AJC. Thanks Luckovich for providing one redeeming element to our illustrious paper.
Did I mention I'm having breakfast with Eeyore on my birthday? That's right, a very live human dressed up in an Eeyore suit who can sign my stuffed animal and Eeyore pajamas. I kid about the pajamas... maybe... Also, this is assuming Disney doesn't crap out on me and give Eeyore the day off... or that he's "sick." After all it is my birthday we're talking about. *Oh bother.*
Monday, October 19, 2009
Success!
I typically do not boast about domestic endeavors for two reasons:
1.) My domestic achievements are not that great in the big scheme of life - no where approaching where they would be in my ideal world. (Largely due to lack of time.)
2.) I have an incredibly complex view of domesticity. I think it is important, necessary, and worthy work. I greatly respect women - and men - who do it well. However, these other women who cite their big "achievements" throughout their "busy" days make me want to hurl a brick at them. These are the women who stay at home with their only child and barely manage to keep the house clean and walk the dog let alone prepare gourmet meals or other high quality projects. These women also feel the need to broadcast their meal schedule, workout schedule, cleaning schedule, and errand-running schedule on Facebook with updates every 15 minutes. Really? I would love to get some of these women alone in a room and explain to them what real work is like. And how some of us can't even begin to think about what's for dinner until after 6pm. That's right - typically not until AFTER my husband gets home from work. Shocking, I know. What a bad wife I am. Especially after having worked all day myself - at a REAL job - too. I clearly do not care about my family's well being.
However, this weekend I had three domestic achievements that I am actually proud of. First, I made some lemon cupcakes with a light vanilla butter cream frosting from scratch. This typically would not be cause for pride in my book because I love baking from scratch and refuse to use boxed mixes for anything unless I'm in a brownie pinch at the last minute, but lemon cake absolutely disgusts me. And it happens to be the favorite of my husband and his mother. So, since it was her birthday, I decided to go on a quest to find a good lemon cupcake recipe that didn't make me want to vomit upon first bite. Leave it to Martha's cupcake book - there was a perfect recipe! The cupcakes were light, moist, and delicious with just a hint of lemon for some nice refreshing citrus flavor. I also found a butter cream recipe elsewhere on Martha's site that took about half the butter of typical ones. Still very rich, but when applied in a very thin layer absolutely delicious. And further counteracted the lemon flavor. I also think it helped that we got the lemons from Fresh Market which always has the best produce. It's the only store outside of Brooks Brothers, Crate and Barrel, or high end purse designers that I actually enjoy visiting... and at which I willingly part with my money. So, the cupcakes were a success.
Second, I finally repaired our couch cushions that the dogs tried to destroy about 6 weeks ago. Now, it took some creativity to repair the zipper that was torn through the center of some of the teeth, but after breaking one zipper head and tearing apart an old pair of jeans to get a strong metal zipper head I managed to do it without having to replace the entire zipper (which was something I don't really have the skill to do. Granted, I could always learn and plan to, but didn't want to exert that effort at this time.) I also sewed up a hole around the base of a zipper on the other cushion that looks like it will hold just fine. So, after an hour or two of trial and error, we finally have our couch back! It was nice to actually be able to sit next to my husband and watch some TV last night instead of sitting across the room from each other like strangers. It was even better to save the $200 it probably would have cost to have someone fix it. Overall, I was very pleased with the situation.
Third, I spent about 4 hours finally unpacking and trying to organize the office. Woo hoo! We can actually see the wall because I put away about 10 boxes of books and was then able to move all the boxes of Christmas decorations and remaining boxes of books into the closet. Once we get the spare bed put together tonight it might actually look like someone lives there instead of looking like someone is getting ready to move out. Or that the biggest room in our entire house has been set up as a permanent storage facility. Bring on the holiday guests!
Sorry for the lack of whit in this post, but I just wanted to share because these things have been hanging over my head and I'm so happy that they all worked out! I also have not really looked at the news today causing me to generally be in good spirits. I expect that to last all of about 30 more minutes, but I figured I'd take advantage of while I could.
1.) My domestic achievements are not that great in the big scheme of life - no where approaching where they would be in my ideal world. (Largely due to lack of time.)
2.) I have an incredibly complex view of domesticity. I think it is important, necessary, and worthy work. I greatly respect women - and men - who do it well. However, these other women who cite their big "achievements" throughout their "busy" days make me want to hurl a brick at them. These are the women who stay at home with their only child and barely manage to keep the house clean and walk the dog let alone prepare gourmet meals or other high quality projects. These women also feel the need to broadcast their meal schedule, workout schedule, cleaning schedule, and errand-running schedule on Facebook with updates every 15 minutes. Really? I would love to get some of these women alone in a room and explain to them what real work is like. And how some of us can't even begin to think about what's for dinner until after 6pm. That's right - typically not until AFTER my husband gets home from work. Shocking, I know. What a bad wife I am. Especially after having worked all day myself - at a REAL job - too. I clearly do not care about my family's well being.
However, this weekend I had three domestic achievements that I am actually proud of. First, I made some lemon cupcakes with a light vanilla butter cream frosting from scratch. This typically would not be cause for pride in my book because I love baking from scratch and refuse to use boxed mixes for anything unless I'm in a brownie pinch at the last minute, but lemon cake absolutely disgusts me. And it happens to be the favorite of my husband and his mother. So, since it was her birthday, I decided to go on a quest to find a good lemon cupcake recipe that didn't make me want to vomit upon first bite. Leave it to Martha's cupcake book - there was a perfect recipe! The cupcakes were light, moist, and delicious with just a hint of lemon for some nice refreshing citrus flavor. I also found a butter cream recipe elsewhere on Martha's site that took about half the butter of typical ones. Still very rich, but when applied in a very thin layer absolutely delicious. And further counteracted the lemon flavor. I also think it helped that we got the lemons from Fresh Market which always has the best produce. It's the only store outside of Brooks Brothers, Crate and Barrel, or high end purse designers that I actually enjoy visiting... and at which I willingly part with my money. So, the cupcakes were a success.
Second, I finally repaired our couch cushions that the dogs tried to destroy about 6 weeks ago. Now, it took some creativity to repair the zipper that was torn through the center of some of the teeth, but after breaking one zipper head and tearing apart an old pair of jeans to get a strong metal zipper head I managed to do it without having to replace the entire zipper (which was something I don't really have the skill to do. Granted, I could always learn and plan to, but didn't want to exert that effort at this time.) I also sewed up a hole around the base of a zipper on the other cushion that looks like it will hold just fine. So, after an hour or two of trial and error, we finally have our couch back! It was nice to actually be able to sit next to my husband and watch some TV last night instead of sitting across the room from each other like strangers. It was even better to save the $200 it probably would have cost to have someone fix it. Overall, I was very pleased with the situation.
Third, I spent about 4 hours finally unpacking and trying to organize the office. Woo hoo! We can actually see the wall because I put away about 10 boxes of books and was then able to move all the boxes of Christmas decorations and remaining boxes of books into the closet. Once we get the spare bed put together tonight it might actually look like someone lives there instead of looking like someone is getting ready to move out. Or that the biggest room in our entire house has been set up as a permanent storage facility. Bring on the holiday guests!
Sorry for the lack of whit in this post, but I just wanted to share because these things have been hanging over my head and I'm so happy that they all worked out! I also have not really looked at the news today causing me to generally be in good spirits. I expect that to last all of about 30 more minutes, but I figured I'd take advantage of while I could.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Week of Letters: Today, Entertainment
Dear Wall Street Journal,
I faithfully read and enjoy your paper. I think it is one of the few remaining journalistic endeavors that actually requires its writers to be able to put together a sentence more complex and eloquent than "See Spot run." I enjoy your financial analyses - especially regarding the financial crisis. I couldn't get through the end of my week without Henninger and Noonan. Evan Newmark expresses 90% of my inner hostility to the masses.Your Real Estate section makes me drool with house designing envy and your Life and Style section always provides interesting insights.
So, when I saw that you had launched the "Speakeasy" entertainment and culture blog I was ecstatic. No more embarrassing trips down the TMZ road I thought. No more having to stoop down to New York Times reviews. No more messy and inaccurate Drudge Report posted articles from the UK. I imagined I would be able to combine my high interest in television and film (and all the messy gossip revolving around them) with tasteful writing and thoughtful analysis. I assumed you would pick some bright up-and-coming writers who actually enjoy entertainment to write these pieces. I was wrong.
So wrong that I perpetually deceive myself into thinking that I will enjoy the recaps of my favorite shows only to read the article and think, "Wow, did you even bother to watch this episode... without the distraction of your European boyfriend drizzling hot Swiss chocolate all over your face to 'improve the mood of boorish American television?'" Or, maybe detract yourself enough from your dissertation on the lack of whit in Woody Allen films to realize that television is actually supposed to be enjoyed? Despite popular belief, it does do more than rot one's brain. Actually, I'm fairly confident no "brain-rotting" actually occurs.... certainly far less than reading the editorial page of The New York Times.
Now, I am a firm believer in criticism. I don't think that something should be deemed "good" that clearly is not. However, these writers do not even depict the events of the shows accurately which is typically a pre-requisite to critiquing an event. Sadly this trend has crossed mediums in this country and is now the rampant form of expression: pre-forumlated criticisms based on your own views regardless of circumstances or facts. Empiricism is sadly dying, but the arts (including banal television) should not be a place where such lack of regard is EVER applied. It's a disservice to readers and the atrocious writing is a disservice to your distinguished publication.
I hope you sincerely take my criticisms under advisement and proceed to rectify the situation at Speakeasy. It can only help to improve the blog itself as well as the goal of you becoming a more broadly encompassing paper of high quality.
Best Regards,
Prudence
I faithfully read and enjoy your paper. I think it is one of the few remaining journalistic endeavors that actually requires its writers to be able to put together a sentence more complex and eloquent than "See Spot run." I enjoy your financial analyses - especially regarding the financial crisis. I couldn't get through the end of my week without Henninger and Noonan. Evan Newmark expresses 90% of my inner hostility to the masses.Your Real Estate section makes me drool with house designing envy and your Life and Style section always provides interesting insights.
So, when I saw that you had launched the "Speakeasy" entertainment and culture blog I was ecstatic. No more embarrassing trips down the TMZ road I thought. No more having to stoop down to New York Times reviews. No more messy and inaccurate Drudge Report posted articles from the UK. I imagined I would be able to combine my high interest in television and film (and all the messy gossip revolving around them) with tasteful writing and thoughtful analysis. I assumed you would pick some bright up-and-coming writers who actually enjoy entertainment to write these pieces. I was wrong.
So wrong that I perpetually deceive myself into thinking that I will enjoy the recaps of my favorite shows only to read the article and think, "Wow, did you even bother to watch this episode... without the distraction of your European boyfriend drizzling hot Swiss chocolate all over your face to 'improve the mood of boorish American television?'" Or, maybe detract yourself enough from your dissertation on the lack of whit in Woody Allen films to realize that television is actually supposed to be enjoyed? Despite popular belief, it does do more than rot one's brain. Actually, I'm fairly confident no "brain-rotting" actually occurs.... certainly far less than reading the editorial page of The New York Times.
Now, I am a firm believer in criticism. I don't think that something should be deemed "good" that clearly is not. However, these writers do not even depict the events of the shows accurately which is typically a pre-requisite to critiquing an event. Sadly this trend has crossed mediums in this country and is now the rampant form of expression: pre-forumlated criticisms based on your own views regardless of circumstances or facts. Empiricism is sadly dying, but the arts (including banal television) should not be a place where such lack of regard is EVER applied. It's a disservice to readers and the atrocious writing is a disservice to your distinguished publication.
I hope you sincerely take my criticisms under advisement and proceed to rectify the situation at Speakeasy. It can only help to improve the blog itself as well as the goal of you becoming a more broadly encompassing paper of high quality.
Best Regards,
Prudence
Thursday, October 15, 2009
A Wonderful Day in the Neighborhood!
Dear Neighbors,
Thank you so much for our warm welcome to the neighborhood! It's been so great to know that we have friendly neighbors who are genuinely nice people who care about one another enough to leave each other alone in their proper spheres. What a relief! We all know how busy-bodies are my biggest pet peeve on the planet next to stupid people, so all my fears have been alleviated.
Well, except for one or two things. You see, ever since we moved in there has been an ever-growing amount of dog feces left on the common green space - otherwise known as a yard to non HOA-members who live in normal houses and neighborhoods - and today there was some right in front of my door step. Now, seeing that you all put your best foot forward by welcoming us to the neighborhood, we're going to assume that wasn't on purpose. Or maybe that a giant stray cat just happened to wander by and choose that locale as the perfect place to leave a little present for us. Or an old homeless man who decided that would be the perfect place to cop a squat - out in the open in the frigid rain with 15 people watching. Or maybe it's just that you're so old and decrepit that you couldn't be bothered to walk the 10 feet across the street from my house to the dog feces receptacle that has plastic bags affixed to it for just such occasions. After all, I'm sure I have some sort of HOA-decreed moral duty to help those elderly neighbors who can be bothered to have annoying pipsqueak dogs that torment my babies endlessly, but not to pick up the sh*t of their own dogs. My bad. How selfish of me.
Also, when a legitimate source tells me that there is a little group of old ladies huddled around the corner from me making fun of my dogs and my small solar garden lights, it also begins to erode my confidence in your good-intentioned neighborliness. You see, on top of busy-bodies, you women are also old biddies who have nothing better to do than try to drag down the new young couple who is using this house as a stepping stone to a better life down the road. How thoughtful of you to concern us with your bitterness. I'm sorry you are all miserable old ladies, but that's not my fault and I've not even talked to you let alone done anything to warrant blatant criticism and official complaints. Good thing you had all that initial good will to fall back on, huh? Oh wait...
I'm guessing none of you listen to the radio unless someone you know is still broadcasting an old HAM radio show that reminds you of the golden ages of your youth, but 99x has been running these neat ads about a company called Big Daddy Spy. You see, Big Daddy Spy provides certain tools that enable you to capture people in illicit actions - or to free them from suspicions according to the commercials - through things such as cell phone tracking and spy cams. Now, I know you don't have cell phones - again with all this technology, right!? - but you sure do walk around in front of my house a lot. And guess what, according to aforementioned HOA stipulations I can have 2 potted plants on my front stoop. What a perfect place to put a spy cam to catch those neighbors performing their dastardly deeds in front of my entrance way.
Said device may just be the ticket to wishing me, my family, and you - my neighborhood - a very merry early holiday season... free of feces!
Sincerely Yours,
Prudence
Thank you so much for our warm welcome to the neighborhood! It's been so great to know that we have friendly neighbors who are genuinely nice people who care about one another enough to leave each other alone in their proper spheres. What a relief! We all know how busy-bodies are my biggest pet peeve on the planet next to stupid people, so all my fears have been alleviated.
Well, except for one or two things. You see, ever since we moved in there has been an ever-growing amount of dog feces left on the common green space - otherwise known as a yard to non HOA-members who live in normal houses and neighborhoods - and today there was some right in front of my door step. Now, seeing that you all put your best foot forward by welcoming us to the neighborhood, we're going to assume that wasn't on purpose. Or maybe that a giant stray cat just happened to wander by and choose that locale as the perfect place to leave a little present for us. Or an old homeless man who decided that would be the perfect place to cop a squat - out in the open in the frigid rain with 15 people watching. Or maybe it's just that you're so old and decrepit that you couldn't be bothered to walk the 10 feet across the street from my house to the dog feces receptacle that has plastic bags affixed to it for just such occasions. After all, I'm sure I have some sort of HOA-decreed moral duty to help those elderly neighbors who can be bothered to have annoying pipsqueak dogs that torment my babies endlessly, but not to pick up the sh*t of their own dogs. My bad. How selfish of me.
Also, when a legitimate source tells me that there is a little group of old ladies huddled around the corner from me making fun of my dogs and my small solar garden lights, it also begins to erode my confidence in your good-intentioned neighborliness. You see, on top of busy-bodies, you women are also old biddies who have nothing better to do than try to drag down the new young couple who is using this house as a stepping stone to a better life down the road. How thoughtful of you to concern us with your bitterness. I'm sorry you are all miserable old ladies, but that's not my fault and I've not even talked to you let alone done anything to warrant blatant criticism and official complaints. Good thing you had all that initial good will to fall back on, huh? Oh wait...
I'm guessing none of you listen to the radio unless someone you know is still broadcasting an old HAM radio show that reminds you of the golden ages of your youth, but 99x has been running these neat ads about a company called Big Daddy Spy. You see, Big Daddy Spy provides certain tools that enable you to capture people in illicit actions - or to free them from suspicions according to the commercials - through things such as cell phone tracking and spy cams. Now, I know you don't have cell phones - again with all this technology, right!? - but you sure do walk around in front of my house a lot. And guess what, according to aforementioned HOA stipulations I can have 2 potted plants on my front stoop. What a perfect place to put a spy cam to catch those neighbors performing their dastardly deeds in front of my entrance way.
Said device may just be the ticket to wishing me, my family, and you - my neighborhood - a very merry early holiday season... free of feces!
Sincerely Yours,
Prudence
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Warning: May Cause Vivid Dreams
Dear Loestrin,
I recently switched to you in hopes of reducing some crummy side-effects I had with your cousin Yasmin. While thus far those pesky side-effects have disappeared, you forgot to mention the DREAMS. You see, last night I had two rather vivid dreams involving one of my aunts who apparently is in love with all things ancient Greek - who knew? - and then a slightly more disturbing one. Apparently I decided that I was just so upset/sad with life that it was time to end it. But, due to the pathetic state of my existence, I went down to the kitchen to grab a giant butcher's knife only to find it too dull to actually puncture skin without a terrible amount of effort. It also had a rust spot on it - Heaven forbid that if the hacking away at my own wrist didn't work I'd be left alive with a ragged scar AND potentially tetanus. This did not sit well with my dream-induced depressed self, so I just stared at this knife for a while and then was mentally awake in a cave where I was so completely disturbed by the events that I could not move. Until my husband woke up and set the dogs on me. So, thanks Loestrin for that vivid dream that has convinced my husband that I am subconsciously suicidal. I'm not, no worries... although I'm a little worried about sleep walking during one of these states and tumbling down the stairs. You certainly weren't kidding when you listed "vivid dreams" among your side effects now were you?
I just thought you should know that this is some crazy sh*t you've got going on with yourself. And for any of those people who might be interested in psychedelic drugs such as mushrooms or ecstasy - no need, just take some estrogen pills and you'll never have to worry about an evening trip ever again!
Frightfully Yours,
Prudence
I recently switched to you in hopes of reducing some crummy side-effects I had with your cousin Yasmin. While thus far those pesky side-effects have disappeared, you forgot to mention the DREAMS. You see, last night I had two rather vivid dreams involving one of my aunts who apparently is in love with all things ancient Greek - who knew? - and then a slightly more disturbing one. Apparently I decided that I was just so upset/sad with life that it was time to end it. But, due to the pathetic state of my existence, I went down to the kitchen to grab a giant butcher's knife only to find it too dull to actually puncture skin without a terrible amount of effort. It also had a rust spot on it - Heaven forbid that if the hacking away at my own wrist didn't work I'd be left alive with a ragged scar AND potentially tetanus. This did not sit well with my dream-induced depressed self, so I just stared at this knife for a while and then was mentally awake in a cave where I was so completely disturbed by the events that I could not move. Until my husband woke up and set the dogs on me. So, thanks Loestrin for that vivid dream that has convinced my husband that I am subconsciously suicidal. I'm not, no worries... although I'm a little worried about sleep walking during one of these states and tumbling down the stairs. You certainly weren't kidding when you listed "vivid dreams" among your side effects now were you?
I just thought you should know that this is some crazy sh*t you've got going on with yourself. And for any of those people who might be interested in psychedelic drugs such as mushrooms or ecstasy - no need, just take some estrogen pills and you'll never have to worry about an evening trip ever again!
Frightfully Yours,
Prudence
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Uncanny: Holiday Design Don't #1
Since the first day of fall - September 22 - I have felt justified in beginning my holiday planning. To start this planning of right, I of course had to check out all the upcoming holiday merchandise online. Some retailers had not yet embraced Christmas in September much to my dismay, but Halloween filled a few gaps until my Oct. 1 Christmas paraphernalia buying deadline was lifted. After all, this year I have an entire HOUSE to decorate. Including the outside! Well... assuming our HOA will approve any of our decorations. I'm about to war with them about some stupid rules that never actually appear to be enforced except against us, so we'll see what happens.
Regardless, I'm almost trembling with excitement and anticipation of all the Christmas glory that will transcend upon my house. Assuming the dogs don't eat it first... I'm working on solutions to that though. Including boarding them for the entire month of December... I kid... kind of. Once they're sufficiently gated out of festive areas all I need is a new Christmas tree for the living room, some (pine) garland and lights for the railing and I'm ready to go. And the props for my North Pole Scene that is going to be outrageously decorated for the delight of my next door neighbors just in case they're the ones who reported our two 5-inch tall, solar powered mini walkway lights to the HOA. See, they can't tell us how to decorate the backyard... only prevent us from letting our dogs go out there unleashed. I'm guessing there will be an amendment added after my Christmas scene is set up. Nothing like a 5-foot tall inflatable reindeer to bring about good neighborly cheer.
In the midst of my holiday scheming, I came across these little guys on the Pottery Barn website and all I could was shake my head and try not to burst out in hysterical laughter.
You see, these cute little Woodland Creature Candles draw an amazing resemblance to the Woodland Critters in South Park's infamous Woodland Critter Christmas episode. If you have seen this episode - which I cannot recommend to anyone who actually likes Christmas unless their festive affairs were ruined by something, then it's perfect! - you understand why cute little woodland creatures cannot under any circumstances be brought into your home's holiday fold. After all, they are evil. Very evil. So quintessentially evil that Santa has to blow their brains out. (Seriously.)
So, Pottery Barn, maybe you should take time to actually look at the world around you. It might improve your sales efforts. Unless your goal was to make these little guys in hope of South Park fanatics buying them by the truck load and thinking of different ways to obliterate them graphically at Festivus parties throughout America. Because that's all that is going to be achieved unless someone unknowingly purchases them and invites a South Park fan over. That could get messy.
Regardless, I'm almost trembling with excitement and anticipation of all the Christmas glory that will transcend upon my house. Assuming the dogs don't eat it first... I'm working on solutions to that though. Including boarding them for the entire month of December... I kid... kind of. Once they're sufficiently gated out of festive areas all I need is a new Christmas tree for the living room, some (pine) garland and lights for the railing and I'm ready to go. And the props for my North Pole Scene that is going to be outrageously decorated for the delight of my next door neighbors just in case they're the ones who reported our two 5-inch tall, solar powered mini walkway lights to the HOA. See, they can't tell us how to decorate the backyard... only prevent us from letting our dogs go out there unleashed. I'm guessing there will be an amendment added after my Christmas scene is set up. Nothing like a 5-foot tall inflatable reindeer to bring about good neighborly cheer.
In the midst of my holiday scheming, I came across these little guys on the Pottery Barn website and all I could was shake my head and try not to burst out in hysterical laughter.
You see, these cute little Woodland Creature Candles draw an amazing resemblance to the Woodland Critters in South Park's infamous Woodland Critter Christmas episode. If you have seen this episode - which I cannot recommend to anyone who actually likes Christmas unless their festive affairs were ruined by something, then it's perfect! - you understand why cute little woodland creatures cannot under any circumstances be brought into your home's holiday fold. After all, they are evil. Very evil. So quintessentially evil that Santa has to blow their brains out. (Seriously.)
Stan stunned by what the creatures are telling him.
So, Pottery Barn, maybe you should take time to actually look at the world around you. It might improve your sales efforts. Unless your goal was to make these little guys in hope of South Park fanatics buying them by the truck load and thinking of different ways to obliterate them graphically at Festivus parties throughout America. Because that's all that is going to be achieved unless someone unknowingly purchases them and invites a South Park fan over. That could get messy.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Ad hoc exorcism
My good old alma mater is at it again. This radio interview outlining the events of an alleged exorcism on my former college campus is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard in my life... which is saying a lot. The Campus Carrier newspaper adds some perspective in this article. To be fair, this is in no way the College's doing. HOWEVER, this kid was not immediately removed as a Resident Assistant or WinShape leader. He was one of only three RAs in his building up on Mountain Campus which is an isolated 3 miles away from main campus. Part of his job is to assure the safety and well-being of his residents. Performing an ad hoc exorcism [because we've all dreamed of uttering that phrase...] does not seem to be in the best interest of the poor exorcisee. Now, I am not contesting that the exorcisee had some major issues. I do not know either of these people and am willing to bet that this individual was very troubled. Many people are. Yet, you don't see other RA's - even at private Christian colleges - running around performing exorcisms randomly at a Monday evening prayer meeting. Or whatever they were holding in that room. For all I know it was just an orgy gone awry. You never know with those Pilgrim boys and their harem of "innocent" Christian girls.
Suppositions aside, this kid is out of his mind. So, to you, Nathan Mallory I invite you to enter Prudence's Introduction to Real Life. It's a short 8 week course - much like the internship you probably didn't take... er, weren't qualified for... so you could go to India and view all these exorcisms that made you an "expert." The course prepares you for the reality of life outside of Berry, and for Heaven's sake - WinShape's - protective bounds. See you might be surprised to learn that graduating from an institution of higher learning and entering the American workforce is not all that akin to living on the streets of Mumbai. Not that there is no overlap, but I'm betting the likes of one such as yourself will not experience those. And, while you are the self-proclaimed Berry student that has a "100% better view of reality outside the Bubble than anyone else at Berry"* your recent actions and, dare I say, rhetoric with the abysmal state of your writing (obviously you did not receive the benefits of my tutelage in the Writing Center) only illustrate you to be bat shit insane. Not filled with the spirit or spiritually wise. Just crazy. And potentially harmful. Ideologues can be harmful in multiple ways and you sir appear to be nearing the brink. Extremism comes to mind when listening to your zealous interview. Lucky for you, I'm willing to show you how the world really works. It will include such scintillating lessons as:
And to you, Berry College Administration including the illustrious Dean Heida, take a moral stand. This kind of behavior is not acceptable. It's going without punishment is even worse. I'm glad to see that after this situation finally began gaining media attraction that he was suspended from his RA duties. But he should have been IMMEDIATELY. This is not an issue of religious tolerance. This only reflects the image of your institution and one I would think that should be unpopular for those charged with presenting an image of a venerable institution of higher learning. Thankfully his official duties have been suspended, but the WinShape director refuses to even comment on the events. Again, NOT OKAY.
Maybe Berry College, you should focus on aspects such as providing your students with the best education you can and recruiting the best and brightest students available instead of pandering to the whims of Chick-fil-a to get money. Although, to be fair, our wonderful Founder whose birthday is this weekend saw no shame in such tactics. At least she markedly improved the school while she was at it.
*Before much attention was placed on this situation, Mr. Mallory had responded to an article about the new mandatory on-campus housing where he provided an atrociously written response to the situation and claimed that since he lived up at WinShape he was impartial and that because he had seen life outside of the Berry Bubble that he was an expert in reality (I assume he meant his trip to India, but cannot verify this.) The comments have since been disabled by those not registered on the site. Here is an excerpt I copied (and obviously did not edit) before it was removed from search archives:
I'm a Christian, and I hurt for whoever commented above me, and I feel that it is not at all right to force students to live on campus if they choose not to. Let's try to model the campus as a microcosm of America, that making the most sense because we will live and work here (probably). America grants liberty and equal rights to everyone, so let's not discriminate and call it the "Christian" thing to do. But at the same time, let this campus also not become a tyranny of the majority, as slavery was for Abraham Lincoln. Just because a majority of students want something, it should not be handed to them on a silver platter. Smoking hookas, drinking responsibly, and living on campus should be up to the students, or adults, to use or abuse, as none of these things are inherintly wrong.
This is obviously more about money than what is right or wrong, and God will not bless a desision based on monetary gain rather than the good of the students. Also, it's not the most efficient strategy. Why not lower tuition and grant more freedom if your goal is to bring in more students? Berry needs to try and compete WITH the reccesion, rather than against it. Strongly market that! Stress the fact that your "Bursting the Berry Bubble" in order to create a more diverse, cultured,real world experienced campus, rather than some surreal forest community! I'm a transfer student, and I LOVE Berry more than anywhere I've been, but it's not perfect! This is actually the only problem I have with Berry at all... Other than the turon-attracting, over-populated deer.
Suppositions aside, this kid is out of his mind. So, to you, Nathan Mallory I invite you to enter Prudence's Introduction to Real Life. It's a short 8 week course - much like the internship you probably didn't take... er, weren't qualified for... so you could go to India and view all these exorcisms that made you an "expert." The course prepares you for the reality of life outside of Berry, and for Heaven's sake - WinShape's - protective bounds. See you might be surprised to learn that graduating from an institution of higher learning and entering the American workforce is not all that akin to living on the streets of Mumbai. Not that there is no overlap, but I'm betting the likes of one such as yourself will not experience those. And, while you are the self-proclaimed Berry student that has a "100% better view of reality outside the Bubble than anyone else at Berry"* your recent actions and, dare I say, rhetoric with the abysmal state of your writing (obviously you did not receive the benefits of my tutelage in the Writing Center) only illustrate you to be bat shit insane. Not filled with the spirit or spiritually wise. Just crazy. And potentially harmful. Ideologues can be harmful in multiple ways and you sir appear to be nearing the brink. Extremism comes to mind when listening to your zealous interview. Lucky for you, I'm willing to show you how the world really works. It will include such scintillating lessons as:
- How to interact with other people without making them run at you with a pitchfork... that they had to run out to their grandparents' barn in the country to retrieve and then hunt you down again to chase you out of town with it.
- How to lead a normal Bible study or prayer meeting that is full of depth and spirit, but lacking crazy exorcisms and unsound theological indoctrinations
- How to give a radio interview that doesn't make you sound like an aspiring cult leader
- How to behave as if you received an elite liberal arts education, not a second rate religious diatribe that is merely sanctioned by your presence at the college.
- Basic writing, spelling, and grammar. How you passed Rhetoric and Writing 101 and 102 with the style presented in that Viking Fusion forum is beyond me.
- A live "throw you out into the street and make you find a normal job and befriend a non-Christian - not with the sole intent of converting him or her." Woo boy. That will be fun to watch!
- Supplemental instruction as needed upon evaluation.
And to you, Berry College Administration including the illustrious Dean Heida, take a moral stand. This kind of behavior is not acceptable. It's going without punishment is even worse. I'm glad to see that after this situation finally began gaining media attraction that he was suspended from his RA duties. But he should have been IMMEDIATELY. This is not an issue of religious tolerance. This only reflects the image of your institution and one I would think that should be unpopular for those charged with presenting an image of a venerable institution of higher learning. Thankfully his official duties have been suspended, but the WinShape director refuses to even comment on the events. Again, NOT OKAY.
Maybe Berry College, you should focus on aspects such as providing your students with the best education you can and recruiting the best and brightest students available instead of pandering to the whims of Chick-fil-a to get money. Although, to be fair, our wonderful Founder whose birthday is this weekend saw no shame in such tactics. At least she markedly improved the school while she was at it.
*Before much attention was placed on this situation, Mr. Mallory had responded to an article about the new mandatory on-campus housing where he provided an atrociously written response to the situation and claimed that since he lived up at WinShape he was impartial and that because he had seen life outside of the Berry Bubble that he was an expert in reality (I assume he meant his trip to India, but cannot verify this.) The comments have since been disabled by those not registered on the site. Here is an excerpt I copied (and obviously did not edit) before it was removed from search archives:
Posted by Nathan Mallory on Jan 28th, 2009
There's not much left to be said, but I feel that as a Winshape student, I am paricularly unbiased, as I must live in Pilgrim. I feel that the "Berry Bubble" as a common phrase says wonders about this campus, both positive and negative. I find Berry to ba a beautiful campus filled with mostly upperclass whites spoonfed by their rich parents. They seem to be predominately Christian and totally ignorant of how the real world works. (I admit I'm on a soap box, but I can say with 100% certainty that I do know more about this "real world" than anyone I have met here.) For those of us who have had real world experiences, this perspective makes Berry seem surreal. Students may be laerning academically, but they are being fooled when it comes to street sense, or just plain real world experience.I'm a Christian, and I hurt for whoever commented above me, and I feel that it is not at all right to force students to live on campus if they choose not to. Let's try to model the campus as a microcosm of America, that making the most sense because we will live and work here (probably). America grants liberty and equal rights to everyone, so let's not discriminate and call it the "Christian" thing to do. But at the same time, let this campus also not become a tyranny of the majority, as slavery was for Abraham Lincoln. Just because a majority of students want something, it should not be handed to them on a silver platter. Smoking hookas, drinking responsibly, and living on campus should be up to the students, or adults, to use or abuse, as none of these things are inherintly wrong.
This is obviously more about money than what is right or wrong, and God will not bless a desision based on monetary gain rather than the good of the students. Also, it's not the most efficient strategy. Why not lower tuition and grant more freedom if your goal is to bring in more students? Berry needs to try and compete WITH the reccesion, rather than against it. Strongly market that! Stress the fact that your "Bursting the Berry Bubble" in order to create a more diverse, cultured,real world experienced campus, rather than some surreal forest community! I'm a transfer student, and I LOVE Berry more than anywhere I've been, but it's not perfect! This is actually the only problem I have with Berry at all... Other than the turon-attracting, over-populated deer.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Continuing Saga
I feel the need to have "the continuing saga" be a subtitle to this post, however, I can't think of how to succinctly describe my mortgage/renovation/bank fraud situation in one word. If only it was that simple.
Also, I apologize for the string of vulgarities in my recent posts and this current one... what can I say, that's how I feel. And how I talk about these situations in real life, so why sugar coat it in writing? It's not like this is a literary publication. So, caveat aside, I am beyond pissed. I've noted much of the craziness that has ensued the last 6 weeks, but Monday evening something really put my anger over the top despite my breakdown induced zen-like state. Reason 3,115 why I could never be a Buddhist. My husband was working late because he had 2 big projects to finish, so I was at home making dinner after walking the dogs. Generally minding my own business. Trying to get through yet another Monday. No big deal.
Well, I hear him stumbling with his keys at the front door and he walks in with steam coming out of his ears. I'm like "What on earth is going on?" He said, "Well, I just got off the phone with Stan [the contractor] and he basically threatened us."
"What?"
"Yep, I just spent the last hour on the phone with him where he proceeded to give me the run down how in the 'old days' contractors would have gone in and chainsawed out the cabinets and granite since they'd not be paid or barricaded us in our house with a truck bumper.' And how that's what some 'old guys' recommended that he do."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. And he posted it as being a hypothetical past situation to which I responded, 'Yeah, it's good things have changed, huh?'"
"So, he essentially threatened us?"
"Basically, yes. He's trying to intimidate us into paying him."
At this point I think I uttered a "Let me talk to the motherf*ing wimp-assed b*tch if he thinks he's threatening us." (What can I say? We just finished the series finale of The Wire - also known as the BEST show ever made! - so I feel empowered to use my full range of Northern Wisconsin vulgarity when expressing my anger - without asterisks or abbreviations in the original version.) I promise to calm down with the swearing one of these days, but I doubt it will before this shithead is paid and out of my life for good. Did I also mention that we arranged a meeting a few weeks ago that my father-in-law graciously moderated so that Stan could do everything but get on his knees and beg us to give him some money? Now, why on earth would I put myself out on a financial limb for someone who doesn't even have an iota self-respect or business acumen. Really?
Now my husband is a little beside himself because he is so astonished by this line of attack. You see, at the end of the day, we can still instruct the bank to withhold a certain percentage of payment for up to 90 days to ensure no liens are placed on the property post payment. So, why on earth would you want to give us any reason to believe that you are 1. Completely desperate and 2. Threatening our property, lives, and financial stability? Is that really going to want us make us play nice?
Certainly not in my world. And, as my husband (and Eric the vampire in such situations in True Blood) responded, "I don't like threats." Okay, I had to throw in the bit about Eric because he's the only celebrity crush I've had in almost 5 years and it's a bad one. My husband knows this and understands... or at least deals with it because it's so silly and I'm rarely, if ever, silly in anything. So it's just kind of funny. Not at all serious, just something light-hearted in a life that seems to be filled with nothing but anger, frustration, and bad tidings lately. I like a fictional vampire like just like the other 80% of American women. Oh well. I will say that in Twilight I am thoroughly a Jacob supporter and am not a fan of Edward at all. Another guilty confession of my reading habits of late.
So, anyway, here we are. It's been insinuated that we should be on our guard if we don't pay up - even though if he wants to threaten someone it should really be the bank... we're not the ones withholding his money. Or better yet, take it up with FHA or HUD since it's a government-insured loan. I'm sure they'll be overly sympathetic to a contractor threatening their clients. Tuesday I worked from home because I just didn't feel good and in the early afternoon I saw a big navy blue truck pull up in front of my house. I looked at the guy driving and he proceeded to immediately turn around. Now, that certainly could have been someone who has nothing to do with me... our neighborhood can be slightly difficult to navigate if you've never been there. However, we're the first house on a corner of the street so typically people drive down to the circle at the end. Regardless, I had a really bad feeling about him and it only fueled my anger. Here's hoping I don't go home at lunch to find my kitchen torn apart with a chainsaw. Although the contractor apparently had someone talk him down yesterday because he sent us a much more calm email. We'll see. I'm skeptical. And PISSED. Don't forget that.
This worthless P.O.S. ruined my vacation, my moving/settling in process, my post-breakdown peaceful state, my ability to sleep through the night, and my ability to concentrate on important work that must get done. He has ruined the last month of my life and my ability to enjoy my new home. Now he is ruining my personal feeling of security.
And there's not a damn thing I can do about it other than consult my advisers. And rant here, so that's what I'm doing.
Also, I apologize for the string of vulgarities in my recent posts and this current one... what can I say, that's how I feel. And how I talk about these situations in real life, so why sugar coat it in writing? It's not like this is a literary publication. So, caveat aside, I am beyond pissed. I've noted much of the craziness that has ensued the last 6 weeks, but Monday evening something really put my anger over the top despite my breakdown induced zen-like state. Reason 3,115 why I could never be a Buddhist. My husband was working late because he had 2 big projects to finish, so I was at home making dinner after walking the dogs. Generally minding my own business. Trying to get through yet another Monday. No big deal.
Well, I hear him stumbling with his keys at the front door and he walks in with steam coming out of his ears. I'm like "What on earth is going on?" He said, "Well, I just got off the phone with Stan [the contractor] and he basically threatened us."
"What?"
"Yep, I just spent the last hour on the phone with him where he proceeded to give me the run down how in the 'old days' contractors would have gone in and chainsawed out the cabinets and granite since they'd not be paid or barricaded us in our house with a truck bumper.' And how that's what some 'old guys' recommended that he do."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. And he posted it as being a hypothetical past situation to which I responded, 'Yeah, it's good things have changed, huh?'"
"So, he essentially threatened us?"
"Basically, yes. He's trying to intimidate us into paying him."
At this point I think I uttered a "Let me talk to the motherf*ing wimp-assed b*tch if he thinks he's threatening us." (What can I say? We just finished the series finale of The Wire - also known as the BEST show ever made! - so I feel empowered to use my full range of Northern Wisconsin vulgarity when expressing my anger - without asterisks or abbreviations in the original version.) I promise to calm down with the swearing one of these days, but I doubt it will before this shithead is paid and out of my life for good. Did I also mention that we arranged a meeting a few weeks ago that my father-in-law graciously moderated so that Stan could do everything but get on his knees and beg us to give him some money? Now, why on earth would I put myself out on a financial limb for someone who doesn't even have an iota self-respect or business acumen. Really?
Now my husband is a little beside himself because he is so astonished by this line of attack. You see, at the end of the day, we can still instruct the bank to withhold a certain percentage of payment for up to 90 days to ensure no liens are placed on the property post payment. So, why on earth would you want to give us any reason to believe that you are 1. Completely desperate and 2. Threatening our property, lives, and financial stability? Is that really going to want us make us play nice?
Certainly not in my world. And, as my husband (and Eric the vampire in such situations in True Blood) responded, "I don't like threats." Okay, I had to throw in the bit about Eric because he's the only celebrity crush I've had in almost 5 years and it's a bad one. My husband knows this and understands... or at least deals with it because it's so silly and I'm rarely, if ever, silly in anything. So it's just kind of funny. Not at all serious, just something light-hearted in a life that seems to be filled with nothing but anger, frustration, and bad tidings lately. I like a fictional vampire like just like the other 80% of American women. Oh well. I will say that in Twilight I am thoroughly a Jacob supporter and am not a fan of Edward at all. Another guilty confession of my reading habits of late.
So, anyway, here we are. It's been insinuated that we should be on our guard if we don't pay up - even though if he wants to threaten someone it should really be the bank... we're not the ones withholding his money. Or better yet, take it up with FHA or HUD since it's a government-insured loan. I'm sure they'll be overly sympathetic to a contractor threatening their clients. Tuesday I worked from home because I just didn't feel good and in the early afternoon I saw a big navy blue truck pull up in front of my house. I looked at the guy driving and he proceeded to immediately turn around. Now, that certainly could have been someone who has nothing to do with me... our neighborhood can be slightly difficult to navigate if you've never been there. However, we're the first house on a corner of the street so typically people drive down to the circle at the end. Regardless, I had a really bad feeling about him and it only fueled my anger. Here's hoping I don't go home at lunch to find my kitchen torn apart with a chainsaw. Although the contractor apparently had someone talk him down yesterday because he sent us a much more calm email. We'll see. I'm skeptical. And PISSED. Don't forget that.
This worthless P.O.S. ruined my vacation, my moving/settling in process, my post-breakdown peaceful state, my ability to sleep through the night, and my ability to concentrate on important work that must get done. He has ruined the last month of my life and my ability to enjoy my new home. Now he is ruining my personal feeling of security.
And there's not a damn thing I can do about it other than consult my advisers. And rant here, so that's what I'm doing.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
BREAKDOWN
Well, it finally happened. The thing I have been fearing my entire cognitive life: a mental breakdown. You see, my family has a long, strong history of mental issues - primarily although not limited to - debilitating depression. I have always tended toward being a slightly (to severely) depressed person with a strong side of anxiety. I distinctly remember being depressed when I was 6 years old although I certainly did not recognize my deep feelings of sadness and empathy at the time. After that, my emotional/psychological life has been a bit of a roller coaster. I have ups and downs, but mostly maintain a certain level of moroseness and sarcasm. I also am not a big fan of psychotropic drugs or counseling. I think these things can be very helpful to many people and am not inherently opposed. Yet, for myself, I would like to think there is a better option. At least as far as counseling/therapy goes. Why on earth am I going to spend hundreds of dollars to tell some stranger who's probably more crazy than me about my problems? My general disdain for people and their advice makes the prospect of this nauseating to me. And, if I want people to know my business, I tell them. Or post it on the Internet for the general masses for free. Obviously.
Well, I've been considering getting on some anti-anxiety drugs, or maybe anti-depressants, because I can't seem to get out of the funk that has been brought on by all the ridiculousness that has occurred in the last 3 years. It always seems like the minute I start digging myself out of my hole that a giant dump truck of manure unloads right on top of me, making the hole even bigger than it was originally. And more distasteful as well. This gets frustrating and makes me just want to go be a hermit in the woods and be left alone. I've not actually gotten around to seeing a doctor about this. I tried to bring it up once and my doctor just did not get it. He muttered something like "well, you should probably get some rest and see if that helps." Thanks buddy! Because I've never tried that one. Man, too bad that piece of advice cost me another $150. Granted, I was not as explicit as I should have been... this is where the anxiety comes in... I have anxiety about lots of things: making phone calls, my dogs hurting each other or being hurt by someone/something else, talking about medical problems, having a disease that has not yet been detected, money, confrontation, polluting my mind with bad TV shows or books, not doing the right thing all the time, thank you notes, cleaning bathrooms, taking advice, insects and snakes biting me, not being able to fall asleep, being paranoid about my various anxieties... the list goes on. However, it always flares up worst when I'm at the doctor's office. Every ounce of intelligence leaves my brain once I walk in the door of the clinic. My blood pressure sky rockets and I become a blubbering idiot. I know it's going to happen, but I just can't help it. So, you see, this leaves me in a bit of a predicament when trying to discuss the anxiety I am experiencing at that time. I'm hoping to overcome this when I go in for my physical this fall. Maybe I can write them a letter and bring it with me...
Anyway, back to the breakdown. See this has been building forever and adds fuel to the anxiety fire. I know I'm losing my grip, so I become anxious about "going crazy" and it makes everything ten times worse. And I take it out on my husband. EVERY SINGLE TIME. I suck as a human, or at least as a wife. Granted, there are bits of it that are deserved, but no one deserves to have a crazy-fest erupt on them at Category 5 Hurricane levels for neglecting to unpack boxes, plan a date, or walk the dogs.
Well, that's what happened last weekend. I completely lost it and went into a hysterical, raging fit. It lasted on and off for two days. It was also fueled my hormones being that time of the month. F*ing hormones.
I won't go into all the details... but I was a mess. I've never had a breakdown of that magnitude, but thankfully my husband talked me down several times and stuck with me instead of running out the door screaming, "Get away from me you crazy b*tch." Because that's what I would have done had someone behaved in such a way toward me. Or carted them off to the mental hospital.
However, the goods news is that I've never felt more liberated in my entire life. I now know that if I indeed have a mental breakdown that: 1. It will not destroy the rest of my life; 2. That sometimes you just need to get everything off your chest and if that means crying hysterically and uttering screams so loud and deep that you sound like an alien monster that's okay too. and 3. Life will go on. I've also learned certain things that are not okay to do during a breakdown. And, since I am a person who highly believes in etiquette, having some ground rules will greatly help me in the future. I still feel awful about the whole thing and especially how I treated my husband. That was not okay. Not at all. But sometimes you feel that desperate and need someone to understand that guttural feeling. And now I no longer have the fear that came with the unexpected "mental breakdown." I had one, it was messy and awful, but I survived and feel more peace than I have in years. Thank God, the desperation is now gone and I feel like I can again deal with life. It may not a pretty or easy life, but at least I'm regained some semblance of control. At least of my own thoughts and actions to effectively deal with it.
So, hopefully this lasts and will give me some better perspective which I think it will. I also think it has gotten me to a place where I can reasonably ask for help. I've not been there ever before. Pride really can be stupid and over-rated. Mental well-being cannot be over-rated enough.
Maybe now I can get back to societal ranting or other such fun things. Stay tuned to the events of my "normal" life. Ha. We'll see.
Well, I've been considering getting on some anti-anxiety drugs, or maybe anti-depressants, because I can't seem to get out of the funk that has been brought on by all the ridiculousness that has occurred in the last 3 years. It always seems like the minute I start digging myself out of my hole that a giant dump truck of manure unloads right on top of me, making the hole even bigger than it was originally. And more distasteful as well. This gets frustrating and makes me just want to go be a hermit in the woods and be left alone. I've not actually gotten around to seeing a doctor about this. I tried to bring it up once and my doctor just did not get it. He muttered something like "well, you should probably get some rest and see if that helps." Thanks buddy! Because I've never tried that one. Man, too bad that piece of advice cost me another $150. Granted, I was not as explicit as I should have been... this is where the anxiety comes in... I have anxiety about lots of things: making phone calls, my dogs hurting each other or being hurt by someone/something else, talking about medical problems, having a disease that has not yet been detected, money, confrontation, polluting my mind with bad TV shows or books, not doing the right thing all the time, thank you notes, cleaning bathrooms, taking advice, insects and snakes biting me, not being able to fall asleep, being paranoid about my various anxieties... the list goes on. However, it always flares up worst when I'm at the doctor's office. Every ounce of intelligence leaves my brain once I walk in the door of the clinic. My blood pressure sky rockets and I become a blubbering idiot. I know it's going to happen, but I just can't help it. So, you see, this leaves me in a bit of a predicament when trying to discuss the anxiety I am experiencing at that time. I'm hoping to overcome this when I go in for my physical this fall. Maybe I can write them a letter and bring it with me...
Anyway, back to the breakdown. See this has been building forever and adds fuel to the anxiety fire. I know I'm losing my grip, so I become anxious about "going crazy" and it makes everything ten times worse. And I take it out on my husband. EVERY SINGLE TIME. I suck as a human, or at least as a wife. Granted, there are bits of it that are deserved, but no one deserves to have a crazy-fest erupt on them at Category 5 Hurricane levels for neglecting to unpack boxes, plan a date, or walk the dogs.
Well, that's what happened last weekend. I completely lost it and went into a hysterical, raging fit. It lasted on and off for two days. It was also fueled my hormones being that time of the month. F*ing hormones.
I won't go into all the details... but I was a mess. I've never had a breakdown of that magnitude, but thankfully my husband talked me down several times and stuck with me instead of running out the door screaming, "Get away from me you crazy b*tch." Because that's what I would have done had someone behaved in such a way toward me. Or carted them off to the mental hospital.
However, the goods news is that I've never felt more liberated in my entire life. I now know that if I indeed have a mental breakdown that: 1. It will not destroy the rest of my life; 2. That sometimes you just need to get everything off your chest and if that means crying hysterically and uttering screams so loud and deep that you sound like an alien monster that's okay too. and 3. Life will go on. I've also learned certain things that are not okay to do during a breakdown. And, since I am a person who highly believes in etiquette, having some ground rules will greatly help me in the future. I still feel awful about the whole thing and especially how I treated my husband. That was not okay. Not at all. But sometimes you feel that desperate and need someone to understand that guttural feeling. And now I no longer have the fear that came with the unexpected "mental breakdown." I had one, it was messy and awful, but I survived and feel more peace than I have in years. Thank God, the desperation is now gone and I feel like I can again deal with life. It may not a pretty or easy life, but at least I'm regained some semblance of control. At least of my own thoughts and actions to effectively deal with it.
So, hopefully this lasts and will give me some better perspective which I think it will. I also think it has gotten me to a place where I can reasonably ask for help. I've not been there ever before. Pride really can be stupid and over-rated. Mental well-being cannot be over-rated enough.
Maybe now I can get back to societal ranting or other such fun things. Stay tuned to the events of my "normal" life. Ha. We'll see.
Friday, August 28, 2009
My Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad 2... er 4... Weeks (Part II)
I think I left off on the epic Tuesday...
So, after receiving the frantic call from our builder, emailing my dad about my unbelievable situation, and doing some more research on Google that managed to calm me down enough about the mortgage situation to realize that we still had a ton of stuff to do that day. I told my husband that if there wasn't anything else he needed me there for I was going to head over to the apartment to start cleaning. This was at noon. The details are all a little fuzzy to me now, but basically I cleaned our apartment until it was shining for 5 hours. This included vacuuming Asian beetles out of our garden room which we never used except for storage, sticking my head in the oven Sylvia Plath style and inhaling oven cleaner fumes for about 30 minutes (unwillingly - although I was tempted to just lie down and give up at that point,) getting the stains and odor out of the carpet, and scrubbing virtually even little nick out of the floors... by myself. To be fair, my husband did pack the remaining couple of boxes of random crap and I think scrubbed the toilet and shower. That was it. Meanwhile, he was criticizing me for cleaning "so well" and kept telling me to stop because we were "running out of time." I knew this, but I also refused to be charged $15/mark on the floor or whatever other asinine fines they could have stuck to us. Despite having a killer headache from all the different cleaner fumes, dehydration, and stress. When I was finished that place was cleaner than when we moved in. I definitely never cleaned it that well while we lived there.
Lets just infer how furious I was about my solo cleaning job - that resulted in us not owing the apartment complex a dime. Because the inspector could tell "how well we took care of it while we lived there." Nothing like a little deodorizing carpet powder and some elbow grease to create great illusions of cleanliness. That was also incredibly justifying to me... because there were definitely things they could have charged us for. Take that husband! Ha! (He did...)
Well, after he finally returned home after the inspection - I high tailed it out of there to go check on the dogs since they'd been cooped up for about 6 hours - we had a bit of an argument... and ended up not leaving for our vacation because we desperately needed to rest. We also had not packed a thing. We called the hotel and arranged to pay for that night and check in the next morning/early afternoon. Well, that would have required us actually getting up early and getting on the road. I don't think we left until after noon between sleeping, packing, putting a dog gate in the car to protect our luggage. That took my husband about an hour and half to complete while I packed everything else.
We finally got on the road and the dogs settled in decently for the first couple of hours. However, we eventually had to stop. The first stop went fine and we were able to take them out for a brief walk. The second was not so great. We pulled off at some sketchy exit in south Georgia and pulled into a Days Inn with a gas station so he could get gas while I walked the dogs. Well, as soon as I had the dogs leashed and out of the car - which was no easy feat considering how long they'd been cooped up at this point - the lady of a certain cheap hotel owner stereotypical persuasion who worked at the hotel came out and told us that "This is private property and you have to leave. You cannot walk your dogs here. There is a visitor center [which was not evident to us...] down the street for walking dogs. This is private property, you have to leave."
You should have seen my face. I gave her the combination of "you have to be shitting me, what's your problem b*tch, and I'll cut you if you turn your back... go ahead and test me" look. I think I scared her. I think she told me it was private property again. I proceeded to try to get the dogs back in the car - while making sure to give them lots of love and attention and to let them lick me in the face just because I knew it bothered her so damn much. After all, dogs are to be eaten, not to ride in cars like humans! (Well, that's what I imagined going through her head from the look she was giving me anyway...) She also treated me like I was trash for having pets, which trust me did not help the situation. I really would have decked her after the couple of days I had had, but decided it was not worth the misdemeanor charge I'm sure she would have filed. While spending the rest of the day in some jail cell in south Georgia might be some people's idea of fun, it was not mine. So we went to the BP across the street, walked the dogs for about 20-25 minutes and went on our way. Somewhere in there we stopped at a McDonald's drive thru (big mistake with the dogs in the car.) They managed to mess up my order - I got a 3 piece chicken selects and they instead gave me this giant chicken ranch heart attack in a bite sandwich. I could barely eat it due to the pound of mayonnaise smothering the remains of some poor hormone injected super chicken breast. I couldn't exchange it though or we would have lost the dogs for sure. They also made my iced coffee so sweet I couldn't drink it. Suffice it to say, after my husband being discriminated at the McDonald's in Missouri earlier this summer, I'm done with good old Mickey D's for a few years... even if I do respect their business model.
Good news is that when we finally made it down to Amelia Island we had a nice 2 days. It rained a bit the first day which actually made it cool and cleared out the crowds which was fantastic. We had a nice sea food dinner too. The puppies loved the beach and made friends with a family staying at our hotel. They hate the ocean though - and most water not in their bowls. It completely freaks them out. (Thank God. It's one of the few tools in our arsenal that actually makes them behave.) The beach wasn't quite as fun as it should have been because we were so worried about the mortgage situation. We found out that the bank actually had been closed and that basically no one including the Feds had any idea what was going on, where our escrowed money was, or where we should send our payment. And, the contractor had made sure to threaten us with liens on our house that would result in foreclosure if we couldn't pay before we left. So as much as we tried to relax and enjoy ourselves, there was a cloud over our mini-vacation.
Well, we managed to get back to Atlanta without much of a hitch. Turns out Dublin, GA is the only reasonable stop south of Atlanta and north of Savannah. Good to know. I try to avoid roadside sketchiness as much as possible.
Well, that's about the end of the story for now.... The additional part that made this time period so awful was that we were put into a bad situation with our dogs. Turns out, litter mates - especially those of the same gender - should NEVER be kept together. We found this out after our once peaceful puppies entered attack mode against each other. There have been instances where I've walked into a room and thought I was entering Michael Vick's basement. They fight so badly when we're around... for attention, for dominance, and over toys. It has really complicated things. We've made some real progress with mitigating the aggression which is good or we would definitely have had to re-home one of them and couldn't find a home upon our first try at contacting family and friends. We also didn't want to return it to the adoption center because they obviously don't know what the hell they're doing even though we were given a recommendation so strong you would have thought this place deserved a Nobel Peace Prize for its work.
This is why I don't trust other people's recommendations and always do my own research. Not that I don't ever take them into consideration, but every time I simply follow someone else's advice it completely screws me over. I do love the puppies though and look forward to the training they're going to get this fall. They are sweet and it's nice to have company when my husband is traveling. I also think they're young enough that we should be able to train them and everything will be fine. They've actually gotten back to being able to take walks together which is so nice - and saves me about an hour every day! It just broke my heart when I thought we would have to give one up though because I really do love them... even when the urinate on my bed while I'm standing right next to them... or on the couch to assert dominance because I petted one instead of the other first. Actually, not those times. Or when they attack my giant stuffed Eeyore (which I've put up high and they jumped up and managed to get this morning anyway.) You don't mess with Eeyore. Which they learned after a strong talking to and shunning this morning. Apparently I still hold some power in my crazy household. Nothing like being a disenfranchised Alpha. Maybe there's a support group other there somewhere. Or maybe I'll win the lottery and can pay Cesar Milan to train them.
See, there's always a simple solution.
So, after receiving the frantic call from our builder, emailing my dad about my unbelievable situation, and doing some more research on Google that managed to calm me down enough about the mortgage situation to realize that we still had a ton of stuff to do that day. I told my husband that if there wasn't anything else he needed me there for I was going to head over to the apartment to start cleaning. This was at noon. The details are all a little fuzzy to me now, but basically I cleaned our apartment until it was shining for 5 hours. This included vacuuming Asian beetles out of our garden room which we never used except for storage, sticking my head in the oven Sylvia Plath style and inhaling oven cleaner fumes for about 30 minutes (unwillingly - although I was tempted to just lie down and give up at that point,) getting the stains and odor out of the carpet, and scrubbing virtually even little nick out of the floors... by myself. To be fair, my husband did pack the remaining couple of boxes of random crap and I think scrubbed the toilet and shower. That was it. Meanwhile, he was criticizing me for cleaning "so well" and kept telling me to stop because we were "running out of time." I knew this, but I also refused to be charged $15/mark on the floor or whatever other asinine fines they could have stuck to us. Despite having a killer headache from all the different cleaner fumes, dehydration, and stress. When I was finished that place was cleaner than when we moved in. I definitely never cleaned it that well while we lived there.
Lets just infer how furious I was about my solo cleaning job - that resulted in us not owing the apartment complex a dime. Because the inspector could tell "how well we took care of it while we lived there." Nothing like a little deodorizing carpet powder and some elbow grease to create great illusions of cleanliness. That was also incredibly justifying to me... because there were definitely things they could have charged us for. Take that husband! Ha! (He did...)
Well, after he finally returned home after the inspection - I high tailed it out of there to go check on the dogs since they'd been cooped up for about 6 hours - we had a bit of an argument... and ended up not leaving for our vacation because we desperately needed to rest. We also had not packed a thing. We called the hotel and arranged to pay for that night and check in the next morning/early afternoon. Well, that would have required us actually getting up early and getting on the road. I don't think we left until after noon between sleeping, packing, putting a dog gate in the car to protect our luggage. That took my husband about an hour and half to complete while I packed everything else.
We finally got on the road and the dogs settled in decently for the first couple of hours. However, we eventually had to stop. The first stop went fine and we were able to take them out for a brief walk. The second was not so great. We pulled off at some sketchy exit in south Georgia and pulled into a Days Inn with a gas station so he could get gas while I walked the dogs. Well, as soon as I had the dogs leashed and out of the car - which was no easy feat considering how long they'd been cooped up at this point - the lady of a certain cheap hotel owner stereotypical persuasion who worked at the hotel came out and told us that "This is private property and you have to leave. You cannot walk your dogs here. There is a visitor center [which was not evident to us...] down the street for walking dogs. This is private property, you have to leave."
You should have seen my face. I gave her the combination of "you have to be shitting me, what's your problem b*tch, and I'll cut you if you turn your back... go ahead and test me" look. I think I scared her. I think she told me it was private property again. I proceeded to try to get the dogs back in the car - while making sure to give them lots of love and attention and to let them lick me in the face just because I knew it bothered her so damn much. After all, dogs are to be eaten, not to ride in cars like humans! (Well, that's what I imagined going through her head from the look she was giving me anyway...) She also treated me like I was trash for having pets, which trust me did not help the situation. I really would have decked her after the couple of days I had had, but decided it was not worth the misdemeanor charge I'm sure she would have filed. While spending the rest of the day in some jail cell in south Georgia might be some people's idea of fun, it was not mine. So we went to the BP across the street, walked the dogs for about 20-25 minutes and went on our way. Somewhere in there we stopped at a McDonald's drive thru (big mistake with the dogs in the car.) They managed to mess up my order - I got a 3 piece chicken selects and they instead gave me this giant chicken ranch heart attack in a bite sandwich. I could barely eat it due to the pound of mayonnaise smothering the remains of some poor hormone injected super chicken breast. I couldn't exchange it though or we would have lost the dogs for sure. They also made my iced coffee so sweet I couldn't drink it. Suffice it to say, after my husband being discriminated at the McDonald's in Missouri earlier this summer, I'm done with good old Mickey D's for a few years... even if I do respect their business model.
Good news is that when we finally made it down to Amelia Island we had a nice 2 days. It rained a bit the first day which actually made it cool and cleared out the crowds which was fantastic. We had a nice sea food dinner too. The puppies loved the beach and made friends with a family staying at our hotel. They hate the ocean though - and most water not in their bowls. It completely freaks them out. (Thank God. It's one of the few tools in our arsenal that actually makes them behave.) The beach wasn't quite as fun as it should have been because we were so worried about the mortgage situation. We found out that the bank actually had been closed and that basically no one including the Feds had any idea what was going on, where our escrowed money was, or where we should send our payment. And, the contractor had made sure to threaten us with liens on our house that would result in foreclosure if we couldn't pay before we left. So as much as we tried to relax and enjoy ourselves, there was a cloud over our mini-vacation.
Well, we managed to get back to Atlanta without much of a hitch. Turns out Dublin, GA is the only reasonable stop south of Atlanta and north of Savannah. Good to know. I try to avoid roadside sketchiness as much as possible.
Well, that's about the end of the story for now.... The additional part that made this time period so awful was that we were put into a bad situation with our dogs. Turns out, litter mates - especially those of the same gender - should NEVER be kept together. We found this out after our once peaceful puppies entered attack mode against each other. There have been instances where I've walked into a room and thought I was entering Michael Vick's basement. They fight so badly when we're around... for attention, for dominance, and over toys. It has really complicated things. We've made some real progress with mitigating the aggression which is good or we would definitely have had to re-home one of them and couldn't find a home upon our first try at contacting family and friends. We also didn't want to return it to the adoption center because they obviously don't know what the hell they're doing even though we were given a recommendation so strong you would have thought this place deserved a Nobel Peace Prize for its work.
This is why I don't trust other people's recommendations and always do my own research. Not that I don't ever take them into consideration, but every time I simply follow someone else's advice it completely screws me over. I do love the puppies though and look forward to the training they're going to get this fall. They are sweet and it's nice to have company when my husband is traveling. I also think they're young enough that we should be able to train them and everything will be fine. They've actually gotten back to being able to take walks together which is so nice - and saves me about an hour every day! It just broke my heart when I thought we would have to give one up though because I really do love them... even when the urinate on my bed while I'm standing right next to them... or on the couch to assert dominance because I petted one instead of the other first. Actually, not those times. Or when they attack my giant stuffed Eeyore (which I've put up high and they jumped up and managed to get this morning anyway.) You don't mess with Eeyore. Which they learned after a strong talking to and shunning this morning. Apparently I still hold some power in my crazy household. Nothing like being a disenfranchised Alpha. Maybe there's a support group other there somewhere. Or maybe I'll win the lottery and can pay Cesar Milan to train them.
See, there's always a simple solution.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
My Favorite Quote
So, I haven't double checked this quote with the original source, but I love it. We've been having some major issues with our dogs involving their lack of training and aggression towards each other. We've been doing lots of research to figure out how to solve our situation and came across this trainer called the Pooch Professor. I love her advice and she seems like my kind of person due to her attitude about training dogs. One's attitude toward training a dog heavily reflects their personal beliefs. I always thought it was insightful, but after now embarking upon it personally I realize it is far more than I had ever supposed. We've started to have some minor success thanks to some great advice from a friend of my husband's and as a result had our first night of uninterrupted sleep since we picked them up. Woo hoo! Life always seems much better after being well rested. The mandatory exercise that has accompanied my puppies also has me feeling better than I have in years. I may not appreciate getting up earlier in the morning, but I'd much rather spend 30 minutes walking my dog than sitting in traffic. It's amazing what a difference it has already made in my life. More on that later, along with the semi-conclusion of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad two weeks and my extended opinion on the "healthcare debate."
Here's the quote:
"Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in traditions simply because they have been handed down for many generations. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. But when, after observation and analysis, you find anything that agrees with reason, and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it."
~ The Buddha, in the Kalama Sutra
I think that just about sums up my opinion on the world, if you include Christianity in the mix. My basic world views are primarily influenced by empiricism and Christianity. Apparently, this is not such a popular view these days. Or so society and my husband tell me. I'm also guessing that Buddha also would not approve of my approach since it includes some non-rational elements. The perpetual conundrum that is my life - no box applies.
Here's the quote:
"Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in traditions simply because they have been handed down for many generations. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. But when, after observation and analysis, you find anything that agrees with reason, and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it."
~ The Buddha, in the Kalama Sutra
I think that just about sums up my opinion on the world, if you include Christianity in the mix. My basic world views are primarily influenced by empiricism and Christianity. Apparently, this is not such a popular view these days. Or so society and my husband tell me. I'm also guessing that Buddha also would not approve of my approach since it includes some non-rational elements. The perpetual conundrum that is my life - no box applies.
Monday, August 10, 2009
My Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad 2 Weeks (Part I)
I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day... I think I'll move to Australia. - Alexander
One of my favorite books in the world is Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Probably because Alexander's day resembles my entire life... on a good day as shown from the opening passage listed above.
To begin on a bright note, I am still very much alive and kicking... er screaming inside from the asininity that has engulfed my life. This is good, considering that there was one day last week when I actually refused to drive home for fear of my imminent demise from a mack truck plowing into me at 60 mph while I was stopped correctly at a red light. It was just that kind of day.
The fated 2 weeks began with my husband running errands after work on Monday briefly returning home to put some groceries in the refrigerator and then loading up the car with boxes for another trip to the new house (we hired movers, but my husband insisted that the 45 trips we took in my car saved us time and money because "movers always rip people off." Lets just say that led to a strong series of arguments, but that's later in the story.) Back to two Mondays ago: After being inside the house for about an hour packing stuff up, we began taking boxes out to the car. I was loading mine in on the passenger side while my husband was standing there staring. This is one of my biggest pet peeves - people standing still, staring. So, I was like "Is there a problem?" He didn't answer, just gave me a look. I was like "Oh sh*t, did someone hit my car?" Thinking that that could not be possible considering that in only 3 nights we would be permanently residing in our new house with assigned parking spots. He very slowly said "Yeah, I think so."
"WHAT?!?!?!"
You probably could have heard me scream in Alabama.
I exhibited my full range of curse words right there in the parking lot... including some lovelies my husband reminded me of from South Park the movie. That does make me smile. It's not often you can use "Barbara Streisand" to signify a word worse than other select 4-lettered ones. All of which were screamed at my mostly innocent neighbors sitting inside trying to enjoy the Bachelorette finale in peace. I'm just guessing... but they all seem like the people who would watch that show... completely seriously, without having any clue as to why that show is nothing but ironically hysterical. Alas.
It took me a few days, but I slowly got over the hit and run since it was "only cosmetic damage." To my BRAND NEW CAR. But anyway, enough yelling at the Internet. I'm over it as much as I ever will considering I can hold a grudge for years. I'm the kind of person who if I believed in reincarnation would actually probably take that grudge with me until I eventually received my karmic appointment as a dung beetle and had such a small brain than I could not longer remember the previous offense of my very distant human life.
That's when my computer decided to just stop working. And lose most of my work from Monday. And other random files I'm not even cognizant of because I haven't needed them yet. That's the great thing about that little present... it keeps on giving! Every time I need a different file created more than 2 weeks ago it's a complete craps shoot as to whether it will in fact be on my computer or on my new external hard drive. Except for the fact that if it is indeed on my external hard drive I probably couldn't even figure that out because my computer will not recognize the drivers of the external drive despite multiple installs and various cartwheels and sacrifices to the computer gods I made last week.
The computer has at least been operational, so I'll leave it alone for now. I know it hates me and will do everything in its power to destroy my professional life, buy hey. At least I'm on to its game now.
I spent several days messing with the computer and on day three I had a complete breakdown. Sobbing, hysterical fit actually. I fully believed that I no longer deserved to live due to a combination of my personal and professional uselessness and the universe's obvious attempt to smite me. However, on the up side, when I chided it to "go ahead and strike me with lightening you mother f-ing universe," it thankfully did not oblige. The episode lasted for about 2 hours, but really had me worn out the rest of the day. So, I got even further behind on packing which did not do anything to diminish my stress level.
Then Thursday came along with the movers who were, let me say it, AMAZING. The best movers, perhaps to ever have walked the planet. The angels of movers who completed the job on time and gently packed my furniture and got it up my incredibly narrow staircase without so much as a scratch on the wall. I wish I could say the same for the contractors...
This, while incredibly justifying to me personally, did nothing to ease my frustrations at the universe, or very tangibly at my husband for insisting that they couldn't take anything breakable or that we could lift ourselves. Out of 70 boxes, the movers only took 30 to give you an idea. That would explode primarily on Saturday though, so we're getting there, no worries!
Thursday evening was a bit crazed since half of our belongings were in the house and the others still in the apartment. The most frustrating thing was that I had to get up Friday morning and go work from my empty apartment because the washer and dryer were getting picked up from the rental company. I had left myself a desk chair, a step stool, and a 12 inch TV so I wouldn't kill myself sitting in that dirty, virtually empty apartment all day long. I was in a frantic state trying to get my laundry list of work completed before being off for the next week. I'm honestly not sure if I've ever worked that fast before, but it sure felt great to be done. Despite the fact that the appliance warehouse man was incredibly creepy... I couldn't tell if he wanted to hook up with me or come back later on and steal the rest of meager belongings remaining in the apartment. He actually asked me if there was anything I wanted to get rid of... I guess my 7 year old 12 inch TV holds more value than I realized.
After my marathon day, I then had to pack another car load to bring over to the new house. While my husband piddled around. He likes to do that, even if he doesn't realize he's doing it at the time. That was almost another marriage dissolver. It took me about 45 agonizingly hot minutes to load the car including cleaning up an over-flowing coke left in my car the night before. There's nothing like having sugary sludge all over your body whilst trying to load a car when it's 95 degrees outside, let me tell you!
I got home, and I think that's when the unloading... of pent-up emotional frustration - began. It might have been when we returned to the apartment later that night to "finish packing." I can't really remember at this point. That did not go well. At least for me. I had had it completely and was exhausted. I was not so nice to my husband about my feelings either. We got home and decided to sleep later than we had planned, resulting in us not getting to the Comcast store until about noon on Saturday. I felt sick that day, but was along for the ride because we were about to pick up our puppies. The line at the Comcast store was 3-4 hours - winding in through the store and outside for quite a ways, so we decided to screw Comcast for that day and go get our puppies.
Picking up the puppies actually went pretty well. Except you'll notice that I call them puppies. That is not in fact a term of endearment. They are much younger than we were told and their behaviors reflect this. We were told we were getting fully crate trained puppies with exemplary behavior who we would need to work with, but mostly only on advanced things like commands for "sit, heel, fetch, etc." Not the basic involving crate training, potting training, and socialization with other dogs. I love my puppies dearly and am still glad to have them, but pissed as hell at the organization we adopted them from for not being upfront with us. We don't have the time, energy, or money to devote to intensive training and now we're stuck with two dogs whose behavior problems alternate on a daily basis. I must say that they are genuinely very good with other people and especially good with young children. Thank God. They just hate other dogs with a passion. And one is fully crate trained, but the other is not. We're working on getting them into training, but as with every thing else in my life it will not be easy. They certainly do love me though. It's really hard to stay sad or in a bad mood when you have two beautiful puppies clamoring for your attention and showering you with kisses from the moment you walk in the door. So, in all, I'm still very glad we got them. They're just going to be much more of a challenge than I anticipated.
The first night we had them was pretty funny - we were originally going to leave them downstairs in their respective crates (more like kennels - they are wire.) Well, we turn off the lights and go upstairs only to hear barking. We go down, let them out, go back to bed. We do this again at 2am. Maybe before? I can't remember... it happened multiple times before we decided to bring them upstairs. They were scared and agitated by this point - new surroundings, sirens going off on the main road nearby, a thunderstorm, city noise. So, I took Zsa Zsa with me in bed (she cuddled all night long and was very good from that point) and my husband slept on the floor next to Eva's crate. Since she's legitimately crate trained, she actually feels safer being in there than out. Now they sleep in our room, but always in their respective crates.
Back to the drama... Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were spent cleaning and packing the old apartment. Monday, we went back to Comcast in the morning, stood in line for only an hour and dropped off our old equipment and picked up our new boxes. This went about as well as could be expected, although why it is so inordinately difficult to pass out boxes that are already paid for and entered into the computer I will never understand. I guess 1st grade reading and arithmetic levels are too much to ask these days. So, we were leaving and decided to get lunch at the CFA drive thru. Well, we ended up having an argument to end all arguments in my car sitting outside of Wal-Mart next to the Comcast store after getting our CFA. Very mean things were said. Voices were raised. Tears were shed. It was not good. I would typically say that that is the most upset I've been since I can remember, but then came Tuesday. It certainly cleared the air though, but certainly left me feeling pretty dejected. I've always heard that putting up wall paper with your spouse is almost certain to be a marriage breaker. I think moving for almost a month is worse. We did make amends though, but it still was awful at the time.
After the argument we were both pissed and drained, but life had to go on. And, we were supposed to be leaving for vacation Tuesday afternoon. Things were looking up despite the cleaning we had to do in the apartment still being ahead of us. We packed up more Monday night (my husband referred to packing/moving at this point as Purgatory. I also like to think of it as the wandering through woods scenes in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Painful, never ending, tedious, and generally anguishing for everyone involved.)
And then there was Tuesday.
Dear sweet baby Jesus, what a day. An epic day of sorts. I also forgot to mention that my husband had found a petrified frog in my car while he was unloading on the weekend. He said, "You see, your bad luck is now over!" I gave him a look like he was insane and said, "Now, why would that be the case?"
"Because I got the frog out. (Obviously.) It was a voodoo frog that was cursing you, but now I threw it away so the bad luck will leave you alone."
"Oh, I see. Thanks for that stellar logic. And for now making me think that out there I have some random enemy who has a scary little doll of my image and is sticking pins into me and then apparently making Popsicle stick houses and throwing them on top of me from about 40 feet up."
Turns out, unfortunately I was way more in tune with what was going on.
Tuesday starts out fairly adventureless. We get up. We walk the dogs. We eat some breakfast. Husband leaves to run to the store before the apartment, I finish getting ready and head over there only to see a missed call from the hubby. I call him to be greeted with, "We have a problem."
"Oh really, what kind of problem? I knew there was mold in that apartment..."
"No, I just talked to Stan [what I will be calling the contractor for the purposes of this blog.] He said that the Feds just raided Taylor, Bean, Whitaker (our mortgage lender) and are closing them down for TARP fraud."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope."
"Okay, I'll meet you at the coffee shop so we can get online and figure this out. I just can't believe it. Wait... crap, I need to drive, there's a giant tree in the road in front of me!"
I kid you not, as I was hearing the abysmal news, I almost was taken out by a fucking tree. Thankfully, no one appeared to be hurt and I could just turn around and go back from whence I came. I then went to the coffee shop to read the headlines and inform my dad of my bad luck. Of all people in the world, there is no one who understands bad luck like him. I certainly wish this was not the case, but in times like this it's at least nice to have someone to commiserate with who genuinely understands.
Well, this is where the story gets complicated... and it's far from over, so I'll leave you with Part I for now.
One of my favorite books in the world is Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. Probably because Alexander's day resembles my entire life... on a good day as shown from the opening passage listed above.
To begin on a bright note, I am still very much alive and kicking... er screaming inside from the asininity that has engulfed my life. This is good, considering that there was one day last week when I actually refused to drive home for fear of my imminent demise from a mack truck plowing into me at 60 mph while I was stopped correctly at a red light. It was just that kind of day.
The fated 2 weeks began with my husband running errands after work on Monday briefly returning home to put some groceries in the refrigerator and then loading up the car with boxes for another trip to the new house (we hired movers, but my husband insisted that the 45 trips we took in my car saved us time and money because "movers always rip people off." Lets just say that led to a strong series of arguments, but that's later in the story.) Back to two Mondays ago: After being inside the house for about an hour packing stuff up, we began taking boxes out to the car. I was loading mine in on the passenger side while my husband was standing there staring. This is one of my biggest pet peeves - people standing still, staring. So, I was like "Is there a problem?" He didn't answer, just gave me a look. I was like "Oh sh*t, did someone hit my car?" Thinking that that could not be possible considering that in only 3 nights we would be permanently residing in our new house with assigned parking spots. He very slowly said "Yeah, I think so."
"WHAT?!?!?!"
You probably could have heard me scream in Alabama.
I exhibited my full range of curse words right there in the parking lot... including some lovelies my husband reminded me of from South Park the movie. That does make me smile. It's not often you can use "Barbara Streisand" to signify a word worse than other select 4-lettered ones. All of which were screamed at my mostly innocent neighbors sitting inside trying to enjoy the Bachelorette finale in peace. I'm just guessing... but they all seem like the people who would watch that show... completely seriously, without having any clue as to why that show is nothing but ironically hysterical. Alas.
It took me a few days, but I slowly got over the hit and run since it was "only cosmetic damage." To my BRAND NEW CAR. But anyway, enough yelling at the Internet. I'm over it as much as I ever will considering I can hold a grudge for years. I'm the kind of person who if I believed in reincarnation would actually probably take that grudge with me until I eventually received my karmic appointment as a dung beetle and had such a small brain than I could not longer remember the previous offense of my very distant human life.
That's when my computer decided to just stop working. And lose most of my work from Monday. And other random files I'm not even cognizant of because I haven't needed them yet. That's the great thing about that little present... it keeps on giving! Every time I need a different file created more than 2 weeks ago it's a complete craps shoot as to whether it will in fact be on my computer or on my new external hard drive. Except for the fact that if it is indeed on my external hard drive I probably couldn't even figure that out because my computer will not recognize the drivers of the external drive despite multiple installs and various cartwheels and sacrifices to the computer gods I made last week.
The computer has at least been operational, so I'll leave it alone for now. I know it hates me and will do everything in its power to destroy my professional life, buy hey. At least I'm on to its game now.
I spent several days messing with the computer and on day three I had a complete breakdown. Sobbing, hysterical fit actually. I fully believed that I no longer deserved to live due to a combination of my personal and professional uselessness and the universe's obvious attempt to smite me. However, on the up side, when I chided it to "go ahead and strike me with lightening you mother f-ing universe," it thankfully did not oblige. The episode lasted for about 2 hours, but really had me worn out the rest of the day. So, I got even further behind on packing which did not do anything to diminish my stress level.
Then Thursday came along with the movers who were, let me say it, AMAZING. The best movers, perhaps to ever have walked the planet. The angels of movers who completed the job on time and gently packed my furniture and got it up my incredibly narrow staircase without so much as a scratch on the wall. I wish I could say the same for the contractors...
This, while incredibly justifying to me personally, did nothing to ease my frustrations at the universe, or very tangibly at my husband for insisting that they couldn't take anything breakable or that we could lift ourselves. Out of 70 boxes, the movers only took 30 to give you an idea. That would explode primarily on Saturday though, so we're getting there, no worries!
Thursday evening was a bit crazed since half of our belongings were in the house and the others still in the apartment. The most frustrating thing was that I had to get up Friday morning and go work from my empty apartment because the washer and dryer were getting picked up from the rental company. I had left myself a desk chair, a step stool, and a 12 inch TV so I wouldn't kill myself sitting in that dirty, virtually empty apartment all day long. I was in a frantic state trying to get my laundry list of work completed before being off for the next week. I'm honestly not sure if I've ever worked that fast before, but it sure felt great to be done. Despite the fact that the appliance warehouse man was incredibly creepy... I couldn't tell if he wanted to hook up with me or come back later on and steal the rest of meager belongings remaining in the apartment. He actually asked me if there was anything I wanted to get rid of... I guess my 7 year old 12 inch TV holds more value than I realized.
After my marathon day, I then had to pack another car load to bring over to the new house. While my husband piddled around. He likes to do that, even if he doesn't realize he's doing it at the time. That was almost another marriage dissolver. It took me about 45 agonizingly hot minutes to load the car including cleaning up an over-flowing coke left in my car the night before. There's nothing like having sugary sludge all over your body whilst trying to load a car when it's 95 degrees outside, let me tell you!
I got home, and I think that's when the unloading... of pent-up emotional frustration - began. It might have been when we returned to the apartment later that night to "finish packing." I can't really remember at this point. That did not go well. At least for me. I had had it completely and was exhausted. I was not so nice to my husband about my feelings either. We got home and decided to sleep later than we had planned, resulting in us not getting to the Comcast store until about noon on Saturday. I felt sick that day, but was along for the ride because we were about to pick up our puppies. The line at the Comcast store was 3-4 hours - winding in through the store and outside for quite a ways, so we decided to screw Comcast for that day and go get our puppies.
Picking up the puppies actually went pretty well. Except you'll notice that I call them puppies. That is not in fact a term of endearment. They are much younger than we were told and their behaviors reflect this. We were told we were getting fully crate trained puppies with exemplary behavior who we would need to work with, but mostly only on advanced things like commands for "sit, heel, fetch, etc." Not the basic involving crate training, potting training, and socialization with other dogs. I love my puppies dearly and am still glad to have them, but pissed as hell at the organization we adopted them from for not being upfront with us. We don't have the time, energy, or money to devote to intensive training and now we're stuck with two dogs whose behavior problems alternate on a daily basis. I must say that they are genuinely very good with other people and especially good with young children. Thank God. They just hate other dogs with a passion. And one is fully crate trained, but the other is not. We're working on getting them into training, but as with every thing else in my life it will not be easy. They certainly do love me though. It's really hard to stay sad or in a bad mood when you have two beautiful puppies clamoring for your attention and showering you with kisses from the moment you walk in the door. So, in all, I'm still very glad we got them. They're just going to be much more of a challenge than I anticipated.
The first night we had them was pretty funny - we were originally going to leave them downstairs in their respective crates (more like kennels - they are wire.) Well, we turn off the lights and go upstairs only to hear barking. We go down, let them out, go back to bed. We do this again at 2am. Maybe before? I can't remember... it happened multiple times before we decided to bring them upstairs. They were scared and agitated by this point - new surroundings, sirens going off on the main road nearby, a thunderstorm, city noise. So, I took Zsa Zsa with me in bed (she cuddled all night long and was very good from that point) and my husband slept on the floor next to Eva's crate. Since she's legitimately crate trained, she actually feels safer being in there than out. Now they sleep in our room, but always in their respective crates.
Back to the drama... Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were spent cleaning and packing the old apartment. Monday, we went back to Comcast in the morning, stood in line for only an hour and dropped off our old equipment and picked up our new boxes. This went about as well as could be expected, although why it is so inordinately difficult to pass out boxes that are already paid for and entered into the computer I will never understand. I guess 1st grade reading and arithmetic levels are too much to ask these days. So, we were leaving and decided to get lunch at the CFA drive thru. Well, we ended up having an argument to end all arguments in my car sitting outside of Wal-Mart next to the Comcast store after getting our CFA. Very mean things were said. Voices were raised. Tears were shed. It was not good. I would typically say that that is the most upset I've been since I can remember, but then came Tuesday. It certainly cleared the air though, but certainly left me feeling pretty dejected. I've always heard that putting up wall paper with your spouse is almost certain to be a marriage breaker. I think moving for almost a month is worse. We did make amends though, but it still was awful at the time.
After the argument we were both pissed and drained, but life had to go on. And, we were supposed to be leaving for vacation Tuesday afternoon. Things were looking up despite the cleaning we had to do in the apartment still being ahead of us. We packed up more Monday night (my husband referred to packing/moving at this point as Purgatory. I also like to think of it as the wandering through woods scenes in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Painful, never ending, tedious, and generally anguishing for everyone involved.)
And then there was Tuesday.
Dear sweet baby Jesus, what a day. An epic day of sorts. I also forgot to mention that my husband had found a petrified frog in my car while he was unloading on the weekend. He said, "You see, your bad luck is now over!" I gave him a look like he was insane and said, "Now, why would that be the case?"
"Because I got the frog out. (Obviously.) It was a voodoo frog that was cursing you, but now I threw it away so the bad luck will leave you alone."
"Oh, I see. Thanks for that stellar logic. And for now making me think that out there I have some random enemy who has a scary little doll of my image and is sticking pins into me and then apparently making Popsicle stick houses and throwing them on top of me from about 40 feet up."
Turns out, unfortunately I was way more in tune with what was going on.
Tuesday starts out fairly adventureless. We get up. We walk the dogs. We eat some breakfast. Husband leaves to run to the store before the apartment, I finish getting ready and head over there only to see a missed call from the hubby. I call him to be greeted with, "We have a problem."
"Oh really, what kind of problem? I knew there was mold in that apartment..."
"No, I just talked to Stan [what I will be calling the contractor for the purposes of this blog.] He said that the Feds just raided Taylor, Bean, Whitaker (our mortgage lender) and are closing them down for TARP fraud."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope."
"Okay, I'll meet you at the coffee shop so we can get online and figure this out. I just can't believe it. Wait... crap, I need to drive, there's a giant tree in the road in front of me!"
I kid you not, as I was hearing the abysmal news, I almost was taken out by a fucking tree. Thankfully, no one appeared to be hurt and I could just turn around and go back from whence I came. I then went to the coffee shop to read the headlines and inform my dad of my bad luck. Of all people in the world, there is no one who understands bad luck like him. I certainly wish this was not the case, but in times like this it's at least nice to have someone to commiserate with who genuinely understands.
Well, this is where the story gets complicated... and it's far from over, so I'll leave you with Part I for now.
Monday, July 27, 2009
A Hobby of Sorts
I've never really been one to have hobbies. Growing up, my hobby was reading. Or reading and watching TV and listening to the radio simultaneously (seriously.) I did lots of other things, but once I grew out of the toy phase I never really replaced them other than with books and extra-curricular activities.
College pretty much killed my joy of reading for a time, although it did drastically improve my skill level (to pretentious geek stage apparently...) I appreciate this, but with putting a decent bit of distance between myself and my formal education I have realized that having pursuits outside of work (and my head) is incredibly important. And while I now enjoy reading and try to get in at least 30 minutes a day for pleasure (or to put me to sleep) I need something else. Since I read or write upward of 8-10 hours a day during the week, reading even for pleasure is not satisfactorily different to constitute a true reprieve from my work activities. And while I absolutely love TV, there are only a few quality shows on air. I will actually defend the merits of television (I can't stand people who think they are too good for TV or that watching TV means your are unintelligent or simplistic of mind. If you choose not to because you have other uses of your time or simply don't enjoy it - fine by me. However, don't judge me because I take a slight pleasure in the escapism television provides. I can even make an intellectual case for the merit of at least limited TV watching, but that's for another day.)
Unfortunately, my cynical side doesn't allow me to find much joy in "meaningless" activities that most people enjoy. I would rather cut away at my own finger with a left-handed Kindergarten safety scissors than scrapbook. I greatly appreciate sewing, knitting, quilting, and needlepoint but don't really have the patience or time to devote to it right now (I plan to start soon though. I figure if I start sewing a baby quilt now, by the time it's done I'll have a friend or family member to give it to.) I can play a video game for all of about 10 minutes before getting bored or not having the skills to go further. (Except the Sims... but that takes too much time to play and my computer can't support Sims 3 anyway.) I would love to paint or sculpt, but really do not have the talent for it. And the last thing I need in my life is the clutter than comes from collecting things. I'm an abysmal athlete, so sports for fun also holds no appeal. The list could go on. (Enter caveat: If the activity provides value to the person engaging in it, great. Good for them! I just happen to not be interested in things that are not of immediate urgency or provide a tangible good/service. I'm too pragmatic and wish that I was not.)
However, last fall I discovered my love for baking. I always loved baking with my grandmothers when I was a kid, but hadn't done much since I was about 12. This was a great first step because I began to experiment and re-learn techniques that I had forgotten in the last 13 years (or never mastered to begin with.) I began combing through recipe websites and cook books. I also read food and cooking blogs like there is no tomorrow. While I still find baking more enjoyable than regular cooking, I am beginning to pick up more cooking since having tons of delicious baked goods around the house isn't exactly advantageous to my wasteline. It also takes so much time that I typically cannot justify baking during week nights. However, actual cooking always must be done.
Now, to say I diligently prepare a gourmet meal every night of the week would be the grossest overstatement since the OMB claiming that Obamacare will save money. However, I did have the opportunity to prepare a two side dishes for some friends' cookout last Friday. The fruit salad I was particularly pleased with, so I'll share that recipe now. And, since it's my blog, I figure I can write about whatever I want, right? As fun as ranting is, I am actually attempting to keep a low blood pressure these days. And I truly love cooking for others if not for myself.
Sweet and Sour Stone Fruit Salad
(I forgot to take a picture. Next time...)
Ingredients*:
2-3 nectarines - sliced, skin on
2 plums (Damask for tartness; Satsuma if you prefer more sweet) - sliced, skin on
1 ripe mango (bordering on over-ripe to get the full sweetness. It adds another dimension to the salad which is perfect in my opinion) - peeled and chunked
1-2 peaches (or substitute white nectarines depending on preference) - peeled and chunked (unless using nectarines... then slice and leave skins on for color)
1/2 pint blackberries (can substitute cherries as well since they are in season. The blackberries add a balancing color to the orange shades of the other fruit and bring out the taste and color of the plums)
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp white sugar
1/2 lime - juiced
*Note, the fresher the fruit, the better the salad. I don't recommend making this with anything that is not in season or not perfectly ripe (including the lime.) I got my produce from Fresh Market and it was excellent - and surprisingly not very expensive since these are all in their prime seasons and were on special.
Directions:
Cut fruit and place in medium-sized bowl. When half of fruit is in bowl, sprinkle with white sugar to get the juices naturally running from the fruit. Stir. Add remaining fruit. In a small bowl, juice the lime. Whisk in 1/4 tbsp of brown sugar (or omit if you prefer extra sour.) Once sugar is dissolved into juice, pour over fruit and stir. Sprinkle top of salad with remaining brown sugar. Set out for 15 minutes or so, then refrigerate until 30 minutes prior to serving. Stir all together once more before serving to ensure the salad is fully coated.
This recipe is simple and delicious. Just don't be afraid to get your hands sticky!
College pretty much killed my joy of reading for a time, although it did drastically improve my skill level (to pretentious geek stage apparently...) I appreciate this, but with putting a decent bit of distance between myself and my formal education I have realized that having pursuits outside of work (and my head) is incredibly important. And while I now enjoy reading and try to get in at least 30 minutes a day for pleasure (or to put me to sleep) I need something else. Since I read or write upward of 8-10 hours a day during the week, reading even for pleasure is not satisfactorily different to constitute a true reprieve from my work activities. And while I absolutely love TV, there are only a few quality shows on air. I will actually defend the merits of television (I can't stand people who think they are too good for TV or that watching TV means your are unintelligent or simplistic of mind. If you choose not to because you have other uses of your time or simply don't enjoy it - fine by me. However, don't judge me because I take a slight pleasure in the escapism television provides. I can even make an intellectual case for the merit of at least limited TV watching, but that's for another day.)
Unfortunately, my cynical side doesn't allow me to find much joy in "meaningless" activities that most people enjoy. I would rather cut away at my own finger with a left-handed Kindergarten safety scissors than scrapbook. I greatly appreciate sewing, knitting, quilting, and needlepoint but don't really have the patience or time to devote to it right now (I plan to start soon though. I figure if I start sewing a baby quilt now, by the time it's done I'll have a friend or family member to give it to.) I can play a video game for all of about 10 minutes before getting bored or not having the skills to go further. (Except the Sims... but that takes too much time to play and my computer can't support Sims 3 anyway.) I would love to paint or sculpt, but really do not have the talent for it. And the last thing I need in my life is the clutter than comes from collecting things. I'm an abysmal athlete, so sports for fun also holds no appeal. The list could go on. (Enter caveat: If the activity provides value to the person engaging in it, great. Good for them! I just happen to not be interested in things that are not of immediate urgency or provide a tangible good/service. I'm too pragmatic and wish that I was not.)
However, last fall I discovered my love for baking. I always loved baking with my grandmothers when I was a kid, but hadn't done much since I was about 12. This was a great first step because I began to experiment and re-learn techniques that I had forgotten in the last 13 years (or never mastered to begin with.) I began combing through recipe websites and cook books. I also read food and cooking blogs like there is no tomorrow. While I still find baking more enjoyable than regular cooking, I am beginning to pick up more cooking since having tons of delicious baked goods around the house isn't exactly advantageous to my wasteline. It also takes so much time that I typically cannot justify baking during week nights. However, actual cooking always must be done.
Now, to say I diligently prepare a gourmet meal every night of the week would be the grossest overstatement since the OMB claiming that Obamacare will save money. However, I did have the opportunity to prepare a two side dishes for some friends' cookout last Friday. The fruit salad I was particularly pleased with, so I'll share that recipe now. And, since it's my blog, I figure I can write about whatever I want, right? As fun as ranting is, I am actually attempting to keep a low blood pressure these days. And I truly love cooking for others if not for myself.
Sweet and Sour Stone Fruit Salad
(I forgot to take a picture. Next time...)
Ingredients*:
2-3 nectarines - sliced, skin on
2 plums (Damask for tartness; Satsuma if you prefer more sweet) - sliced, skin on
1 ripe mango (bordering on over-ripe to get the full sweetness. It adds another dimension to the salad which is perfect in my opinion) - peeled and chunked
1-2 peaches (or substitute white nectarines depending on preference) - peeled and chunked (unless using nectarines... then slice and leave skins on for color)
1/2 pint blackberries (can substitute cherries as well since they are in season. The blackberries add a balancing color to the orange shades of the other fruit and bring out the taste and color of the plums)
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp white sugar
1/2 lime - juiced
*Note, the fresher the fruit, the better the salad. I don't recommend making this with anything that is not in season or not perfectly ripe (including the lime.) I got my produce from Fresh Market and it was excellent - and surprisingly not very expensive since these are all in their prime seasons and were on special.
Directions:
Cut fruit and place in medium-sized bowl. When half of fruit is in bowl, sprinkle with white sugar to get the juices naturally running from the fruit. Stir. Add remaining fruit. In a small bowl, juice the lime. Whisk in 1/4 tbsp of brown sugar (or omit if you prefer extra sour.) Once sugar is dissolved into juice, pour over fruit and stir. Sprinkle top of salad with remaining brown sugar. Set out for 15 minutes or so, then refrigerate until 30 minutes prior to serving. Stir all together once more before serving to ensure the salad is fully coated.
This recipe is simple and delicious. Just don't be afraid to get your hands sticky!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Nails Against the Chalkboard
Do you ever have one of those days where every little thing grates on your nerves to a degree that you want run out of the room screaming and waving your arms in the air like a crazy person? Well, that's been my week thus far. It seems like every task - personal and professional that comes my way is a little more tedious than the one before. Taken individually, these tasks would be fine, but when combined they make me want to tear out my hair.
I also have reached the end of my patience with politicians. It's not like I had a tremendous amount to begin with, but whatever remaining iota of goodwill I had towards them was annihilated with the introduction of the Healthcare Bill. I cannot extrapolate further other than to say it is the biggest, most convoluted piece of garbage I have ever encountered. If Obama wasn't dead set on destroying our country before albeit through good intentions, he's graduated to the next level with this one.
There have been some really great things going on lately though, so I'll highlight those:
I also have reached the end of my patience with politicians. It's not like I had a tremendous amount to begin with, but whatever remaining iota of goodwill I had towards them was annihilated with the introduction of the Healthcare Bill. I cannot extrapolate further other than to say it is the biggest, most convoluted piece of garbage I have ever encountered. If Obama wasn't dead set on destroying our country before albeit through good intentions, he's graduated to the next level with this one.
There have been some really great things going on lately though, so I'll highlight those:
- We adopted 2 dogs last weekend! I can't wait to bring them home (they're staying at the adoption center's shelter until we can move into the new house since we can't have them in our apartment.) They are the sweetest girls ever and I can't wait to come home to them every night. I'm sure there will be plenty of crazy, funny, and frustrating events as a result of their arrival. I also can't wait to start baking for them! Now I can bake to my heart's content and not be faced with the temptation of the tasty items I create (I promise, bacon-infused muffins hold absolutely no interest to me. I'm guessing Eva and Zsa Zsa will love them though. They almost took out a table trying to reach a wrapped blueberry muffin at Petsmart on Saturday.) Oh, and the dogs are named after the Gabor sisters which I thought was too much fun to change.
- Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (the movie) finally was released and it was great! I'm holding out hope that Dumbledore's Funeral will be at the beginning of the 7th movie because it is one of my favorite and vividly imagined scenes from the books. I look forward to seeing it again next week when it comes to the Imax theater. I'm especially glad they chose to highlight the friendships and romances of the students considering how incredibly dark the rest of the subject matter is (and will be in the last 2 movies.) It was much needed comic relief that was a great throwback to the first movie.
- Our house is almost finished! We actually have countertops, some appliances, and one coat of poly on the floors. We had some minor tile issues - they said the one we wanted was in stock and it was not (8 weeks backordered!), so we had to go with a cheaper alternative. That was fine by me though. It will still look great and that's money we can use for something else. I just can't wait to finally live there!
- After we move in, unpack, paint, and pick up our dogs we're going back to Amelia Island for a few days of relaxation and bonding with our new puppies. I can't wait although I'm sure taking the dogs to the beach will be an adventure. I think they'll like it though. They're incredibly curious.
Monday, July 6, 2009
How I Love Vacation
Last Monday I rushed to work... about 5 minutes late as usual. Unfortunately, as anyone who knows me has observed, the level of my stress-induced fatigue directly correlates to my punctuality. Since being so stressed out about our house (and work and missing a day and a half from being sick and life in general), it has been steadily rising for the last 5 months or so. I still keep it under 9:30am, but ideally I should arrive between 8:45-9. I have a fairly laid-back office, so it's not really a big deal as long as I don't miss a meeting (or deadline.) I also tend to stay later when this happens to compensate, or do work at night. So while I wish I was one of these early morning people who wakes up at 5:30am, goes for a 30 minute run, and sits under a tree for 15 minutes listening to the birds and basking in the sunrise, I most certainly am not. I am diligently working on going to bed earlier though. Staying up until midnight (or later) and only getting 4 hours of sleep a night may work in college when you have a month off every 3 months to rest up, but not in the real world.
Back to Monday, I got into the office and my boss told me to take Friday off for the 4th of July. He apologized for not thinking about it sooner, but said that I needed the day off. I heartily agreed. (I often agonize over taking Federal holidays off... because I want to maximize my vacation days. I'm beginning to learn why I need to take them off though - to preserve sanity.) My husband also had the day off (and Thursday afternoon), so we decided to get away for the weekend since we have been trying - and failing - to plan a vacation for about 2 months now. We looked at hotels at every beach location within reasonable driving distance and decided on Amelia Island.
It was wonderful.
I don't think I have ever enjoyed going to the beach as much as I did last weekend. It was not an overly exciting weekend - we drove down Friday morning/afternoon. Went for a walk on the beach and got some sea food for dinner. We slept in the next morning and then went to the beach for a few hours (about 11am to 1pm so I got some sun for the first time in about 2 years.) We then partook in the 4th of July festivities - a little parade and a beautiful fireworks display over the harbor. The people sitting behind us were interesting of the North Florida redneck variety, but other than their atrocious accents they were pretty entertaining - one woman wanted to "give me money to immediately move away from Atlanta." I didn't mention that we just bought a house there... We then had to search for some food because the one thing this celebration lacked was rampant commercialization via vendor cart. I was astonished that there were absolutely no vendors out considering there were several thousand crowded into the historic downtown district. I assume there was an ordinance and I think they tried to localize the vendors in the "park celebration" earlier in the day. Oh well. The fireworks were still great. And I bet I can find some 4th of July Mardi Gra beads on sale at Kroger or CVS... because that's what the Founders clearly would have wanted.
I must say, I'm a little shocked at how uneventful our weekend was and how wonderful that made it. Life is so busy and stressful all the time that it was nice to take a break and essentially "do nothing." I also find the ocean to be the most calming sound in the world. Even though I am absolutely terrified of it. I refuse to get in the ocean above my knees for fear of imminent drowning. I also am perpetually afraid of sea creatures biting or stinging me. Wading around is nice though and I could walk along the beach for hours every day (too bad I'm married and can't put that in a singles ad, right?)
This weekend made me want to up and move to the beach. Even if that means just working at a hotel to make ends meet. I would never actually do that... but it was nice to think about for a few days. And I do hope that one day we will actually be able to move to the beach semi-permanently. As we were leaving, I still couldn't wait to get home to see the progress being made in our house. The hardwood floors have been installed, which is great! Things are moving along nicely and I can't wait until it's done. Our new house will be a great substitution until we can take off to the beach again.
Back to Monday, I got into the office and my boss told me to take Friday off for the 4th of July. He apologized for not thinking about it sooner, but said that I needed the day off. I heartily agreed. (I often agonize over taking Federal holidays off... because I want to maximize my vacation days. I'm beginning to learn why I need to take them off though - to preserve sanity.) My husband also had the day off (and Thursday afternoon), so we decided to get away for the weekend since we have been trying - and failing - to plan a vacation for about 2 months now. We looked at hotels at every beach location within reasonable driving distance and decided on Amelia Island.
It was wonderful.
I don't think I have ever enjoyed going to the beach as much as I did last weekend. It was not an overly exciting weekend - we drove down Friday morning/afternoon. Went for a walk on the beach and got some sea food for dinner. We slept in the next morning and then went to the beach for a few hours (about 11am to 1pm so I got some sun for the first time in about 2 years.) We then partook in the 4th of July festivities - a little parade and a beautiful fireworks display over the harbor. The people sitting behind us were interesting of the North Florida redneck variety, but other than their atrocious accents they were pretty entertaining - one woman wanted to "give me money to immediately move away from Atlanta." I didn't mention that we just bought a house there... We then had to search for some food because the one thing this celebration lacked was rampant commercialization via vendor cart. I was astonished that there were absolutely no vendors out considering there were several thousand crowded into the historic downtown district. I assume there was an ordinance and I think they tried to localize the vendors in the "park celebration" earlier in the day. Oh well. The fireworks were still great. And I bet I can find some 4th of July Mardi Gra beads on sale at Kroger or CVS... because that's what the Founders clearly would have wanted.
I must say, I'm a little shocked at how uneventful our weekend was and how wonderful that made it. Life is so busy and stressful all the time that it was nice to take a break and essentially "do nothing." I also find the ocean to be the most calming sound in the world. Even though I am absolutely terrified of it. I refuse to get in the ocean above my knees for fear of imminent drowning. I also am perpetually afraid of sea creatures biting or stinging me. Wading around is nice though and I could walk along the beach for hours every day (too bad I'm married and can't put that in a singles ad, right?)
This weekend made me want to up and move to the beach. Even if that means just working at a hotel to make ends meet. I would never actually do that... but it was nice to think about for a few days. And I do hope that one day we will actually be able to move to the beach semi-permanently. As we were leaving, I still couldn't wait to get home to see the progress being made in our house. The hardwood floors have been installed, which is great! Things are moving along nicely and I can't wait until it's done. Our new house will be a great substitution until we can take off to the beach again.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Welcome to the Neighborhood!
I am finally a homeowner... assuming the funds were paid out of the escrow account to the seller this morning...
You have to love how mortgage lenders mess up your loan amount on the day of closing, don't provide the closing packet to the attorney until 2 hours before closing, and then leave work promptly at 5:30pm so you cannot close in totality until they approve some faxed documents when they decide to look at them in the morning. Especially when you weren't able to start the signing documents until 5:00pm. And then my name was mis-spelled, so we had to reprint about half the documents and sign them again. After reconciling the lender's inaccurate math.
And people wonder why this mortgage/housing crisis occurred.
We did actually get to go into our house last night (which should never have happened being that the seller did not receive his funds.) Reason being, we have a neighbor of epic proportions. I will from this point on call her Maryann. You see, Maryann strongly believes in the neighborhood sharing keys in case of an emergency. Being that it's a townhouse, we share an open space attic with 3 other houses before there is a firewall separating us from the next 4 houses. We also share a wall and apparently 5 years ago there was some kind of pipe burst and the whole place could have flooded had she not had a key to get in and turn it off. Despite the fact that there is a master shutoff valve for the street 2 houses down from us (she showed it to us yesterday... in addition to her alarm code and where her house water turnoff is.) We also were lectured for at least an hour on the benefits of living in the community and taking care of one another. There were almost tears... from her sentimentality and me losing my patience.
I decided the best course of action was to play super sweet young neighbor girl. (It's sickening how much I can turn it on when the need arises. It's a gift, what can I say.) We were also informed we are the first "normal" neighbors she's had in that house - she's lived there since the community was built in 1972. The first lady lived there with her [straight] son, the second lived there with her gay son and his boyfriend, and the last lady was deaf. I didn't quite know how to appropriately respond to her description of the previous neighbors, so I just kind of went "huha, okay?" And tried to move on to another subject as soon as possible to disguise my shock at what was just said to me (and suppress my anger.) We brought up how we are really excited about moving in and look forward to getting a puppy soon. She was like "Oh, please not one that barks all the time!" To which we responded, "Of course not, we don't hate ourselves." She was like "Great, then it can be our dog. I can take care of it while you're gone and let it outside during the day." Because she had tried adopting one, but when it needed to go outside at night during the cold winter she decided it was enough and sent it back... but there are 2 of us (and her!) so we should have no worries about our future dog. As long as it's quiet. And she can care for it during the day while we're at work.
This was during her tour of her house and our street. She reiterated at least 12 times in the last 20 minutes of the tour the need for us to share a key and how she would NEVER go into our house unless it was an emergency. In fact, Maryann asserts, she's been a Realtor for 25 years so going into other people's houses doesn't hold any interest for her. She left for about 20 minutes after which she returned to take the lock box (for realtors showing the house) off the door... and let herself right on in...
I was gone picking up the best pizza in the world while this happened, but my husband and couple of friends were there and witnessed the event. We decided we're probably going to need an extra dead bolt, a chain on the door, and a yappy dog to prevent the imminent intrusions of Maryann.
Our street should have one of those carved wood signs that say: Welcome to the Neighborhood! Surrender Your Privacy at the Door.
Lets just hope I don't have to get creative with ways to take that privacy back.
You have to love how mortgage lenders mess up your loan amount on the day of closing, don't provide the closing packet to the attorney until 2 hours before closing, and then leave work promptly at 5:30pm so you cannot close in totality until they approve some faxed documents when they decide to look at them in the morning. Especially when you weren't able to start the signing documents until 5:00pm. And then my name was mis-spelled, so we had to reprint about half the documents and sign them again. After reconciling the lender's inaccurate math.
And people wonder why this mortgage/housing crisis occurred.
We did actually get to go into our house last night (which should never have happened being that the seller did not receive his funds.) Reason being, we have a neighbor of epic proportions. I will from this point on call her Maryann. You see, Maryann strongly believes in the neighborhood sharing keys in case of an emergency. Being that it's a townhouse, we share an open space attic with 3 other houses before there is a firewall separating us from the next 4 houses. We also share a wall and apparently 5 years ago there was some kind of pipe burst and the whole place could have flooded had she not had a key to get in and turn it off. Despite the fact that there is a master shutoff valve for the street 2 houses down from us (she showed it to us yesterday... in addition to her alarm code and where her house water turnoff is.) We also were lectured for at least an hour on the benefits of living in the community and taking care of one another. There were almost tears... from her sentimentality and me losing my patience.
I decided the best course of action was to play super sweet young neighbor girl. (It's sickening how much I can turn it on when the need arises. It's a gift, what can I say.) We were also informed we are the first "normal" neighbors she's had in that house - she's lived there since the community was built in 1972. The first lady lived there with her [straight] son, the second lived there with her gay son and his boyfriend, and the last lady was deaf. I didn't quite know how to appropriately respond to her description of the previous neighbors, so I just kind of went "huha, okay?" And tried to move on to another subject as soon as possible to disguise my shock at what was just said to me (and suppress my anger.) We brought up how we are really excited about moving in and look forward to getting a puppy soon. She was like "Oh, please not one that barks all the time!" To which we responded, "Of course not, we don't hate ourselves." She was like "Great, then it can be our dog. I can take care of it while you're gone and let it outside during the day." Because she had tried adopting one, but when it needed to go outside at night during the cold winter she decided it was enough and sent it back... but there are 2 of us (and her!) so we should have no worries about our future dog. As long as it's quiet. And she can care for it during the day while we're at work.
This was during her tour of her house and our street. She reiterated at least 12 times in the last 20 minutes of the tour the need for us to share a key and how she would NEVER go into our house unless it was an emergency. In fact, Maryann asserts, she's been a Realtor for 25 years so going into other people's houses doesn't hold any interest for her. She left for about 20 minutes after which she returned to take the lock box (for realtors showing the house) off the door... and let herself right on in...
I was gone picking up the best pizza in the world while this happened, but my husband and couple of friends were there and witnessed the event. We decided we're probably going to need an extra dead bolt, a chain on the door, and a yappy dog to prevent the imminent intrusions of Maryann.
Our street should have one of those carved wood signs that say: Welcome to the Neighborhood! Surrender Your Privacy at the Door.
Lets just hope I don't have to get creative with ways to take that privacy back.
Friday, June 26, 2009
RIP MJ
I never thought I would be so saddened by Michael Jackson's death. But I really am. Now, I was a fan of his music, but his questionable lifestyle certainly cast a large shadow on my personal opinion of him in the last years. Lets just call it massive skepticism. However, he was a pop icon and deserved the status for his talent even if his private behavior was suspect.
The thing I love about pop culture is... as sad as this may be... that it provides a unifying trend among our immensely disparate society. I genuinely feel sorry for the celebrities lives it eventually ruins, but pop culture and its icons play huge roles in our lives even if they are inadvertent. We all remember watching the Thriller video for the first time, or if you're like me, him singing at the end of the movie Free Willy. (Free Willy was one of my top 5 movies from growing up, so it's very sentimental to me.) And those memories strangely matter. Maybe it's because the common unifying institutions have begun to erode, but more likely it is because pop icons are far more democratic than any political election could hope to be. Granted, the music execs play a large role in deciding who gets a shot and who does not, but the public ultimately decides if that person/group will be a success. We listen to radio, buy concert tickets, and buy albums. And if we do not like the artist, we simply don't bother. It's a relatively simple process that is often unfair to those who go undiscovered and are truly talented. But that does not lessen the impact of those that are.
So, here's to you Michael Jackson. May your afterlife be much more peaceful than your earthly one. Thanks for your great contributions to music and our pop culture. They will not be forgotten.
The thing I love about pop culture is... as sad as this may be... that it provides a unifying trend among our immensely disparate society. I genuinely feel sorry for the celebrities lives it eventually ruins, but pop culture and its icons play huge roles in our lives even if they are inadvertent. We all remember watching the Thriller video for the first time, or if you're like me, him singing at the end of the movie Free Willy. (Free Willy was one of my top 5 movies from growing up, so it's very sentimental to me.) And those memories strangely matter. Maybe it's because the common unifying institutions have begun to erode, but more likely it is because pop icons are far more democratic than any political election could hope to be. Granted, the music execs play a large role in deciding who gets a shot and who does not, but the public ultimately decides if that person/group will be a success. We listen to radio, buy concert tickets, and buy albums. And if we do not like the artist, we simply don't bother. It's a relatively simple process that is often unfair to those who go undiscovered and are truly talented. But that does not lessen the impact of those that are.
So, here's to you Michael Jackson. May your afterlife be much more peaceful than your earthly one. Thanks for your great contributions to music and our pop culture. They will not be forgotten.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Out of Office Reply
Actually, make that an "in the office perpetually until I am too tired to drive home, then go home and work" reply.
Good news is that business is booming. I told my chiropractor that yesterday and she said that is the first time she's heard anyone have good news about work. I agreed that I, and my husband, are incredibly fortunate in that regard. However, the stress that accompanies it on top of a recent trip that included seeing family often overshadows it in my mind. And greatly contributed to my new back problems.
I'm glad I went to Wisconsin for the weekend and it was great to see my Grandma (and to see that she's doing far better than my mom said) and my friends. It was good to see other family members too, but talk about stress. And on top of it, I had perhaps the worst flight of my entire life. Getting delayed 3 hours on the red eye, waiting to rent a car for an additional 45 minutes that is not the brand/model you drive (although it was fun to test out the Prius first hand. Honda is just better), and having to drive through the incredibly foggy, dark countryside at 4am is not my idea of a good time. Especially when I still have not been able to catch up on anything resembling sleep. At least I brought home some good cheese to comfort my stressful self.
So, all this is to say that I am absolutely exhausted and my time is maxed out. Hopefully I'll be able to catch a break this weekend - I hope so considering it is our first anniversary! But, I'm not counting on it too much. I must say that I really am enjoying being busy for work though. If I had even a little bit more sleep I would be having a blast. Instead, for the first time, I understand why people do drugs to stay awake. After a while, caffeine does NOTHING. This has never happened to me before. Welcome to the real world! Yikes.
Good news is that business is booming. I told my chiropractor that yesterday and she said that is the first time she's heard anyone have good news about work. I agreed that I, and my husband, are incredibly fortunate in that regard. However, the stress that accompanies it on top of a recent trip that included seeing family often overshadows it in my mind. And greatly contributed to my new back problems.
I'm glad I went to Wisconsin for the weekend and it was great to see my Grandma (and to see that she's doing far better than my mom said) and my friends. It was good to see other family members too, but talk about stress. And on top of it, I had perhaps the worst flight of my entire life. Getting delayed 3 hours on the red eye, waiting to rent a car for an additional 45 minutes that is not the brand/model you drive (although it was fun to test out the Prius first hand. Honda is just better), and having to drive through the incredibly foggy, dark countryside at 4am is not my idea of a good time. Especially when I still have not been able to catch up on anything resembling sleep. At least I brought home some good cheese to comfort my stressful self.
So, all this is to say that I am absolutely exhausted and my time is maxed out. Hopefully I'll be able to catch a break this weekend - I hope so considering it is our first anniversary! But, I'm not counting on it too much. I must say that I really am enjoying being busy for work though. If I had even a little bit more sleep I would be having a blast. Instead, for the first time, I understand why people do drugs to stay awake. After a while, caffeine does NOTHING. This has never happened to me before. Welcome to the real world! Yikes.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Attention Worthless Generation: Give Me A Break
I haven't had a good blog rant in a while, so here it goes.
Yesterday, there was an article in the Wall Street Journal highlighting spring college commencement speakers' apologies to the Class of 2009 for causing this economic mess that they are inheriting. The speeches ranged in specific content, but most apologized for past slovenliness (my term) especially in regard to ruthless pursuit of greed and self-interest with no long-term regard of consequences. They then proceeded to essentially say, "Sorry graduates, but you're going to have to clean this mess up. That is the only avenue your ambitions can actually serve. Listen to what we say, not what we do. Maybe you can leave the world better for children, but your generation is pretty much screwed." Thanks guys, for those amazingly inspirational sentiments. I mean, it makes me want to go right out there, don my comrade uniform, and "get to work for the common good." Especially to bail out the idiots who got us here... oh wait, they don't actually want our opinion on that. No, again, they want us to listen to all their great wisdom as to how to get ourselves out of this mess.
Huh?
So, let me get this straight. The generation who is largely responsible for this idiocy now wants us to sit back and follow their orders on how to fix it? The reason being that they are now "sorry?"
I don't think so. Hell will freeze over before I listen to these buffoons. Or we'll turn into Idiocracy and I'll be executed for having an independent brain in my head. If you haven't seen the movie, you should. Poor Mike Judge has gotten so screwed over by Fox's "marketing efforts" that most people have not heard of it... but it's worth multiple viewings. (I have a tirade against Fox marketing that I will save for another day. Lets just say it is largely related to their handling of Firefly among other quality shows and movies that tank because their marketing director is one of the biggest of the aforementioned buffoons to have ever walked the entertainment planet.)
As far as I'm concerned, the Baby Boomers and Me Generation are complete wastes of space. They squandered their affluence, opportunities, and general peace in names of themselves. As a general rule, I am not at all opposed to market selfishness as I don't think there is a omniscient human (or group of humans) who can accurately dictate the actions of individuals. And even if there was, that is immoral in principle and should not be entered into by anyone who still has an iota of free conscience left in their heads. However, this generation takes selfishness to an entirely new level... to a degree that it needs its own definition to differentiate it from "good selfishness" espoused by those such as Adam Smith, F.A. Hayek, and even Tocqueville when you get down to it.
Lets call it, "Self aggrandizement at the expense of all reason, morals, or social consciousness?" That's probably a little too long... Or maybe, "Denial of reality." Getting closer. However, I think what truly captures these people is simply, "Asininity."
They don't want the freedom that their parents fought, and many died, for. Why? Because freedom takes work largely through choice. You have to actively employ your brain and reason to determine whether or not a good or activity actually is in your self interest instead of just doing what you want. At the end of the day, self-interest is not supposed to be hedonism. It's very existence depends on rational choice. Lest us not forget this is the generation that produced the Summer of Love, the irrational elevation of hippieness, and general apathy... except toward green living. That they love because it only affirms the theories of their youth!
I guess the critical flaw in the way Smith is taught is there is no emphasis on the extent to which people would become lazy. Smith did address it, but it's not the primary objective unless relating it to why the free market is necessary. It also does not receive as much explicit emphasis because back in the day, lazy people perished. There was no option. Unless you were an aristocrat, but they were few and there were no Cinderella stories regardless of what Disney tells us. (Although I finally saw Wall-E and it did a great job of illustrating what happens when you don't have to work or make choices. Props to Pixar for a great film. As was Up. Absolutely fantastic, but that's for another day too.)
Today, virtually everyone is an aristocrat of old even if they technically have a job. Technology has provided us with free time previously unfathomable and enabled us to conduct more cerebral work than every before. Thanks college! Both of these things are great when used well.
However, when one insists on living in one's head more than interacting with the world, bad things happen. You lose your connection to society, people, and general common sense. I'm not debasing a good education or modern living - I would not want to have been born at any other time in history and I am unfortunately addicted to learning at a rapid pace. However, higher education should not inversely correlate to common sense.
The interesting thing is that our generation - call us Gen Y or the Millennials or whatever other buzz word of choice - but in my experience most of our generation is at the very least hard working. This is in part due to elevated opportunities at younger ages, especially in education. While not all of us trained for Harvard beginning in infancy, most of us still realized that in order to succeed we needed to work hard and be decent people. Not that there aren't exceptions... there always are... but even though in many ways life has been easy for us due to technology (and the subsequent lack of scarcity) we realized that in order to maintain that ease or one day have the option of not working hard that we would indeed have to work our tails off when we are young. And competition is high since we've all been elevated. Being raised in this competitive jungle has contributed to our work ethic and knowledge only second to the advent of the Internet.
For children of the waste-of-spacers, we either realized how damn lucky our parents were to grow up in an age of affluence or how unlucky if they didn't get a piece of the pie (to what degree luck plays a role is certainly up for debate. See The Black Swan and Fooled By Randomness for a deep discussion of the issue.) People's reactions vary, but the two most common in my experience are either adopting the work ethic of rightfully successful parents (or other role models) or working against the ways of the parents because there's no way they can sustain that lifestyle - whether it be good or bad. Think of it in a SWOT (Strengths, Weakness, Opportunities, Threats) diagram (pictured below.)
And, for the stupid members of my generation, they are mostly getting a huge dose of big bad reality since the parents footing their obscene bills have lost their shirts in the stock market or are losing their houses. It would be sad if it wasn't deserved. (Not to say that everyone who gets in over their head is a complete idiot... there are plenty of victims, but most of them in my experience deserve it 100% for making ridiculous choices. As tragic as it may seem at the time.) Their kids will now have to jump on the hard working bandwagon too, or lose their former affluence. Either scenario will be a significant improvement to their current lives and probably the most successful action to prevent a crisis of this magnitude from happening again.
So, in conclusion, I am sick of the Worthless Generation continuously criticizing my generation and expecting us to do what they say hook, line, and sinker. This is me saying, "No, I will not follow your directives. I will find my own. Ones that are thoughtful, decent, and self-interested to the core." And, "Quit criticizing us before we've even had a chance to prove ourselves. You had your shot and blew it. We've not yet even begun to show our potential and I'm sick of hearing what a failure I am before even beginning. You are the failures, not us, so get out of the way."
I've been in the business of being successful for 20 years. So I will ask the Worthless Generation: What have you done in the last 20 years that warrants my respect since ruining our economic, political, and numerous societal institutions doesn't quite cut it?
I'm sure there are individuals with good answers and those are the people I respect. Yet, they just appear to be ordinary citizens. Imagine that.
I'm considering revising this to be an open letter, but don't have the time to re-write at the moment. Soon though. Soon.
Yesterday, there was an article in the Wall Street Journal highlighting spring college commencement speakers' apologies to the Class of 2009 for causing this economic mess that they are inheriting. The speeches ranged in specific content, but most apologized for past slovenliness (my term) especially in regard to ruthless pursuit of greed and self-interest with no long-term regard of consequences. They then proceeded to essentially say, "Sorry graduates, but you're going to have to clean this mess up. That is the only avenue your ambitions can actually serve. Listen to what we say, not what we do. Maybe you can leave the world better for children, but your generation is pretty much screwed." Thanks guys, for those amazingly inspirational sentiments. I mean, it makes me want to go right out there, don my comrade uniform, and "get to work for the common good." Especially to bail out the idiots who got us here... oh wait, they don't actually want our opinion on that. No, again, they want us to listen to all their great wisdom as to how to get ourselves out of this mess.
Huh?
So, let me get this straight. The generation who is largely responsible for this idiocy now wants us to sit back and follow their orders on how to fix it? The reason being that they are now "sorry?"
I don't think so. Hell will freeze over before I listen to these buffoons. Or we'll turn into Idiocracy and I'll be executed for having an independent brain in my head. If you haven't seen the movie, you should. Poor Mike Judge has gotten so screwed over by Fox's "marketing efforts" that most people have not heard of it... but it's worth multiple viewings. (I have a tirade against Fox marketing that I will save for another day. Lets just say it is largely related to their handling of Firefly among other quality shows and movies that tank because their marketing director is one of the biggest of the aforementioned buffoons to have ever walked the entertainment planet.)
As far as I'm concerned, the Baby Boomers and Me Generation are complete wastes of space. They squandered their affluence, opportunities, and general peace in names of themselves. As a general rule, I am not at all opposed to market selfishness as I don't think there is a omniscient human (or group of humans) who can accurately dictate the actions of individuals. And even if there was, that is immoral in principle and should not be entered into by anyone who still has an iota of free conscience left in their heads. However, this generation takes selfishness to an entirely new level... to a degree that it needs its own definition to differentiate it from "good selfishness" espoused by those such as Adam Smith, F.A. Hayek, and even Tocqueville when you get down to it.
Lets call it, "Self aggrandizement at the expense of all reason, morals, or social consciousness?" That's probably a little too long... Or maybe, "Denial of reality." Getting closer. However, I think what truly captures these people is simply, "Asininity."
They don't want the freedom that their parents fought, and many died, for. Why? Because freedom takes work largely through choice. You have to actively employ your brain and reason to determine whether or not a good or activity actually is in your self interest instead of just doing what you want. At the end of the day, self-interest is not supposed to be hedonism. It's very existence depends on rational choice. Lest us not forget this is the generation that produced the Summer of Love, the irrational elevation of hippieness, and general apathy... except toward green living. That they love because it only affirms the theories of their youth!
I guess the critical flaw in the way Smith is taught is there is no emphasis on the extent to which people would become lazy. Smith did address it, but it's not the primary objective unless relating it to why the free market is necessary. It also does not receive as much explicit emphasis because back in the day, lazy people perished. There was no option. Unless you were an aristocrat, but they were few and there were no Cinderella stories regardless of what Disney tells us. (Although I finally saw Wall-E and it did a great job of illustrating what happens when you don't have to work or make choices. Props to Pixar for a great film. As was Up. Absolutely fantastic, but that's for another day too.)
Today, virtually everyone is an aristocrat of old even if they technically have a job. Technology has provided us with free time previously unfathomable and enabled us to conduct more cerebral work than every before. Thanks college! Both of these things are great when used well.
However, when one insists on living in one's head more than interacting with the world, bad things happen. You lose your connection to society, people, and general common sense. I'm not debasing a good education or modern living - I would not want to have been born at any other time in history and I am unfortunately addicted to learning at a rapid pace. However, higher education should not inversely correlate to common sense.
The interesting thing is that our generation - call us Gen Y or the Millennials or whatever other buzz word of choice - but in my experience most of our generation is at the very least hard working. This is in part due to elevated opportunities at younger ages, especially in education. While not all of us trained for Harvard beginning in infancy, most of us still realized that in order to succeed we needed to work hard and be decent people. Not that there aren't exceptions... there always are... but even though in many ways life has been easy for us due to technology (and the subsequent lack of scarcity) we realized that in order to maintain that ease or one day have the option of not working hard that we would indeed have to work our tails off when we are young. And competition is high since we've all been elevated. Being raised in this competitive jungle has contributed to our work ethic and knowledge only second to the advent of the Internet.
For children of the waste-of-spacers, we either realized how damn lucky our parents were to grow up in an age of affluence or how unlucky if they didn't get a piece of the pie (to what degree luck plays a role is certainly up for debate. See The Black Swan and Fooled By Randomness for a deep discussion of the issue.) People's reactions vary, but the two most common in my experience are either adopting the work ethic of rightfully successful parents (or other role models) or working against the ways of the parents because there's no way they can sustain that lifestyle - whether it be good or bad. Think of it in a SWOT (Strengths, Weakness, Opportunities, Threats) diagram (pictured below.)
And, for the stupid members of my generation, they are mostly getting a huge dose of big bad reality since the parents footing their obscene bills have lost their shirts in the stock market or are losing their houses. It would be sad if it wasn't deserved. (Not to say that everyone who gets in over their head is a complete idiot... there are plenty of victims, but most of them in my experience deserve it 100% for making ridiculous choices. As tragic as it may seem at the time.) Their kids will now have to jump on the hard working bandwagon too, or lose their former affluence. Either scenario will be a significant improvement to their current lives and probably the most successful action to prevent a crisis of this magnitude from happening again.
So, in conclusion, I am sick of the Worthless Generation continuously criticizing my generation and expecting us to do what they say hook, line, and sinker. This is me saying, "No, I will not follow your directives. I will find my own. Ones that are thoughtful, decent, and self-interested to the core." And, "Quit criticizing us before we've even had a chance to prove ourselves. You had your shot and blew it. We've not yet even begun to show our potential and I'm sick of hearing what a failure I am before even beginning. You are the failures, not us, so get out of the way."
I've been in the business of being successful for 20 years. So I will ask the Worthless Generation: What have you done in the last 20 years that warrants my respect since ruining our economic, political, and numerous societal institutions doesn't quite cut it?
I'm sure there are individuals with good answers and those are the people I respect. Yet, they just appear to be ordinary citizens. Imagine that.
I'm considering revising this to be an open letter, but don't have the time to re-write at the moment. Soon though. Soon.
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