Well, I fought the urge to post whilst stuffing envelopes all week last week, but I just can't help myself from writing a little today to make it appear to people outside my office that I'm working. For some reason, I can't seem to find any big (or small) projects today beyond putting really old papers in one of the filing cabinets under my care (= BORING), though I do have that nagging feeling that I'm neglecting something important. Oh well -- as I wait for the terror of realization to set in, I think I should probably exercise my writing skills.
So, I was looking back over previous posts and wondering if I sort of damned myself with that one about 2009 being a good year. Bad/crappy stuff keeps happening to me and those around me: joblessness, relative sicknesses/deaths, car damage, illnesses/aches & pains. So much for general optimism, I guess. Relating to myself, I've been thinking about making a doctor's appointment to talk about hypothyroidism. I just feel so run-down and fatigued most of the time (along with some other symptoms I don't care to elaborate on here). I'm nervous to make and attend doctor's appointments, though. I just really despise sitting in stuffy gross waiting rooms and then talking to people I don't really trust. And, if I'm going to talk about a thyroid problem, blood will inevitably have to be taken, which adds substantially to the fear factor. If I could start feeling better, though -- I assume the risk of passing out with a needle in my arm is worth it. I'm just such a wuss when it comes to health and body stuff. I am amazed by surgeons and nurses who can dig around in people's insides and not have a panic attack. Hell, I can't even eat tomatoes because they look somewhat like insides when sliced up. Seriously. Ew.
Well, I guess I really don't have anything profound or even vaguely interesting to say. I ate too much food at Easter dinners yesterday, and am suffering the consequences today. I am planning to help Karyn do her taxes tonight. I have a bunch of junk I want to sell on Ebay, and started a crazy campaign of spring cleaning last night. I think I'm just ready for warm weather to finally show up and stay around for awhile. Enough of this 54 degrees in the day and 29 at night crap.
Okay...enough grexing. Time to go do some more filing...or something.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Old Friends
I've had opportunities to spend time with a lot of old friends lately due to both sad happenings and happy ones, and I felt the need to document my gratefulness (I don't really know how else to describe the feeling...it's positive, yet quietly melancholy to me...so goth, I know).
Getting together with people who knew me back in the olden days (when I was both more and less of a loser) always makes me feel like I matter and have an identity beyond just my own sick, sad thoughts about who I must be. It's comforting. Yet, the future keeps always moving and pulling (pushing?) us in different directions, and I get a little wistful for the days when we did see each other constantly with our big dreams intact and our endless possibilities still ahead of us. Doors close now every day (but other doors open, of course, as is the old adage), and I have to sort of mourn each tiny slam just a little. At least for me, every slam shuts out one more bit of potential greatness and, I'm afraid, locks in an ordinary existence. So love and loss mingle when I relive the past and I feel both at home and lost in the forest (the forest of open and closed doors? Yeah, how's that for mixing metaphors?).
And with all that gothness above, I'm going to go start a poetry journal. :-) (But seriously, I do really take to heart reconnections with old friends -- it means a lot to me, and I hope we can always be part of each others' lives).
Getting together with people who knew me back in the olden days (when I was both more and less of a loser) always makes me feel like I matter and have an identity beyond just my own sick, sad thoughts about who I must be. It's comforting. Yet, the future keeps always moving and pulling (pushing?) us in different directions, and I get a little wistful for the days when we did see each other constantly with our big dreams intact and our endless possibilities still ahead of us. Doors close now every day (but other doors open, of course, as is the old adage), and I have to sort of mourn each tiny slam just a little. At least for me, every slam shuts out one more bit of potential greatness and, I'm afraid, locks in an ordinary existence. So love and loss mingle when I relive the past and I feel both at home and lost in the forest (the forest of open and closed doors? Yeah, how's that for mixing metaphors?).
And with all that gothness above, I'm going to go start a poetry journal. :-) (But seriously, I do really take to heart reconnections with old friends -- it means a lot to me, and I hope we can always be part of each others' lives).
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Oh, the angst!
I'm having a sort of feeling down kind of day, but not a feeling sorry for myself kind of day; it's more raging against the proverbial machine than against myself, which I suppose is healthier. Self-loathing is not really useful, and it's not really honest either. I don't actually loathe myself in any way. (I do strongly dislike the fact that I don't understand how to dress myself properly or wear makeup or be a girl, but those are just small embarrassments, not life-threatening problems).
So anyway -- I felt the need to record some thoughts because of my gloomy day. Work is particularly tedious right now, though I won't get into specifics. You can ask if you really care to know, but I can promise that you'll really be sorry you did because I will talk at length and even bring props to illustrate my complaints. :-) Okay, just one specific complaint: fire alarm testing day is not my favorite day (and, actually, they've been testing the fire alarms every few weeks since the summer)!
I've just been sighing a lot today and sending emails with that little "top priority" exclamation point selected. Just feeling a little neglected and melancholy is all.
*One last random note before I go collate some more documents (wait, don't they have photocopiers that do that?!): in standing at my office window collating documents, I saw two hilarious things in the space of about 1 minute (it's market day, so that must lend to the interestingness on the street)... 1. a fat cowboy wearing a parka walked sassily by in black platform boots that HAD to be women's! 2. a shiny van for some business that I can't even remember the name of 4 minutes later pulled up to the light; it had a small picture of a very realistic cow on the side with the slogan "our business depends on udders." It made me giggle, but I couldn't grab my phone fast enough to shoot a picture.
*Sigh* The fire alarm is going off again for about the 14th time today, and my nerves are shot.
So anyway -- I felt the need to record some thoughts because of my gloomy day. Work is particularly tedious right now, though I won't get into specifics. You can ask if you really care to know, but I can promise that you'll really be sorry you did because I will talk at length and even bring props to illustrate my complaints. :-) Okay, just one specific complaint: fire alarm testing day is not my favorite day (and, actually, they've been testing the fire alarms every few weeks since the summer)!
I've just been sighing a lot today and sending emails with that little "top priority" exclamation point selected. Just feeling a little neglected and melancholy is all.
*One last random note before I go collate some more documents (wait, don't they have photocopiers that do that?!): in standing at my office window collating documents, I saw two hilarious things in the space of about 1 minute (it's market day, so that must lend to the interestingness on the street)... 1. a fat cowboy wearing a parka walked sassily by in black platform boots that HAD to be women's! 2. a shiny van for some business that I can't even remember the name of 4 minutes later pulled up to the light; it had a small picture of a very realistic cow on the side with the slogan "our business depends on udders." It made me giggle, but I couldn't grab my phone fast enough to shoot a picture.
*Sigh* The fire alarm is going off again for about the 14th time today, and my nerves are shot.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Ever 17...
I've been having this problem of grown-up life envy. I'm not exactly sure what's to blame...I can't say that it's any one thing... I do suppose that I have noticed an increase in angst since spending time on Facebook, though, looking at all the grown-up versions of people I went to school with in the not-so-long long ago.
It's wrong, I guess, but it seems like all those folks are winning the race. They've got jobs, marriages, kids, mortgages. I have a job too, a boyfriend, don't want a kid, and have a mountain of school debt instead of any real property. (I do own an aging Honda Civic that I bought used 5 years ago. I do have a cat and a decent TV and an iPhone). But I'm kind of ready to stop being 17 years old on repeat for the past 10 years. I mean, what sets today me apart from 11th grade me? Discounting college and two years of grad school, I have matured a little, gotten waaaay more organized, and have a full-time job instead of a regular routine of classes (of course, I do hop from meeting to meeting in a school for my job). Most other things are the same...I live at home with my parents (in a different room, but same dif.), growl at my alarm clock every morning, try to be in bed by 11:30 on weeknights, hate to drive, and like chick rock music. I still make collages from old magazines, eat too much popcorn, watch Seinfeld reruns, and write and draw little pictures in a notebook by my bed. Hell, my childhood dog is still alive and (relative to her 16.5 yr. age) healthy. I do have access to a whole lot more technology now that has changed my worldview somewhat, but that's just because technology advanced in ridiculous ways since 1999 and I like to buy shiny things with lots of buttons and screens. (I can't help it -- I love the smell of new electronics).
I know there's an end...it's even in sight most of the time, and who knows? Maybe I shouldn't be so keen to rush it. It still just feels, as I mentioned to a friend earlier, like how I didn't learn to ride a bike until I was 11 and had to sit out like a loser on bike rodeo days in elementary school.
I've started life, sort of, but I just can't seem to get both training wheels off.
It's wrong, I guess, but it seems like all those folks are winning the race. They've got jobs, marriages, kids, mortgages. I have a job too, a boyfriend, don't want a kid, and have a mountain of school debt instead of any real property. (I do own an aging Honda Civic that I bought used 5 years ago. I do have a cat and a decent TV and an iPhone). But I'm kind of ready to stop being 17 years old on repeat for the past 10 years. I mean, what sets today me apart from 11th grade me? Discounting college and two years of grad school, I have matured a little, gotten waaaay more organized, and have a full-time job instead of a regular routine of classes (of course, I do hop from meeting to meeting in a school for my job). Most other things are the same...I live at home with my parents (in a different room, but same dif.), growl at my alarm clock every morning, try to be in bed by 11:30 on weeknights, hate to drive, and like chick rock music. I still make collages from old magazines, eat too much popcorn, watch Seinfeld reruns, and write and draw little pictures in a notebook by my bed. Hell, my childhood dog is still alive and (relative to her 16.5 yr. age) healthy. I do have access to a whole lot more technology now that has changed my worldview somewhat, but that's just because technology advanced in ridiculous ways since 1999 and I like to buy shiny things with lots of buttons and screens. (I can't help it -- I love the smell of new electronics).
I know there's an end...it's even in sight most of the time, and who knows? Maybe I shouldn't be so keen to rush it. It still just feels, as I mentioned to a friend earlier, like how I didn't learn to ride a bike until I was 11 and had to sit out like a loser on bike rodeo days in elementary school.
I've started life, sort of, but I just can't seem to get both training wheels off.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Ugh, my sweater.
I was very productive last Sunday afternoon, "hand-washing" all of my most delicate wool sweaters (read: running them through the gentle cycle on the washer two at a time) that haven't been cleaned in any way in many months. As you can imagine, I was extraordinarily proud of my uncharacteristic unlaziness, and carefully "reshaped and dried flat" on old (clean!) beach towels folded up on top of the square card table by my parents' basement coal stove (at my mother's suggestion). I had no need for the sweaters for the rest of Sunday, so I left them to dry, checking on them once early in the evening (to assure that no cats had decided they were good for sleeping on), and deciding that I wouldn't need to worry about collecting them until Monday morning, which I did before leaving for work.
I put the sweaters away in my old bedroom-turned-giant storage closet and paid them no mind until yesterday, when I wore my favorite brown and cream-striped BCBG sweater to work. This morning, as I struggled to dress (as every morning presents another clothing struggle), I determined it wouldn't be overkill to wear my nice warm gray BCBG sweater to work with jeans (I allow myself one jeans day per work week) since, hey -- it's cold and drab outside and I just don't care that hard about my appearance.
When I get to work, I notice this strange odor in my office that I quickly realize is coming from me. I distinctly remember applying deodorant this morning, and can even smell that scent, but there is an unmistakable undercurrent of B.O. So I manically start sniffing under my arms like on a tv commercial, but notice that it's attached to every inch of my sweater. Now, I know that wool tends to smell weird when it's wet, but this is not that kind of smell, and my sweater is perfectly dry. It smells like B.O. All I can figure is that the basement has poisoned my sweater (and by extension, all of my just-washed sweaters). Come to think of it, I just thought the person sitting next to me at our State of the College address yesterday had crazy weird B.O. Hmmm...it was probably my sweater. Damn it!
Now, if you know me, you know how much I hate my parents' basement, so this situation is particularly vexing. The previous owners of my parents' house had done up the main part of the basement as a charming rec room in the 1960's, complete with bar and atrocious (though undoubtedly trendy at the time) green and tan carpet that I can't adequately describe (I'll try to post a picture sometime...seriously, it's awful). The bar is long gone (replaced by showcase cabinets for my father's NASCAR memorabilia...uh, yeah), the charming fireplace was retrofitted to attach the coal stove my father decided to inherit from his father, but the carpet remains...over 15 years after moving in. I can only assume that the smell I'm carrying around like a disease is a combination of rotting carpet padding (though after approximately 43 years, it can't honestly still be actively rotting, but just rotted), coal dust, and general musty basement. (If radon had a smell, that would most certainly be mixed in as well). Ew. These scents are not apparent when running on the treadmill for 40 minutes a day, but obviously lock into a damp sweater left to dry overnight.
I am so embarrassed and peeved...and worried.
Why worried, you may ask? Mainly because I have to continue to live in this house, which in the winter is attempted (unsuccessfully) to be heated with just the aforementioned coal stove blasting away and a system of unstrategically located ceiling and other fans. This makes the basement a cozy 92 degrees while the rest of the house ranges between 50 (or less, I swear!) and 65. My parents are not poor (they're not rich either, by any means, but the have like 0 debts anymore), but they refuse to use the house's built-in electric heating system and will reset any thermostat in the house (each room has its own control) to "off" if you switch it on. The bathroom has an electric space heater to be used during morning showers, so there is no need to even THINK of turning heat on in there either. (Luckily I can escape to my electric fireplace in my attic room and keep that space a reasonable human temperature). Anyway, I'm worried that I won't be able to make it through this, let alone another, winter of crazy. I'm worried for my mental and for my general health. My sweaters not even considered -- I think I might get some form of Black Lung disease and die coughing up coal dust.
One thing I've learned from the sweater-washing experience? Well, it's just the same thing I already knew -- living with one's parents at 26 (going on 27) is a mistake. It's just so darn cost effective.
I put the sweaters away in my old bedroom-turned-giant storage closet and paid them no mind until yesterday, when I wore my favorite brown and cream-striped BCBG sweater to work. This morning, as I struggled to dress (as every morning presents another clothing struggle), I determined it wouldn't be overkill to wear my nice warm gray BCBG sweater to work with jeans (I allow myself one jeans day per work week) since, hey -- it's cold and drab outside and I just don't care that hard about my appearance.
When I get to work, I notice this strange odor in my office that I quickly realize is coming from me. I distinctly remember applying deodorant this morning, and can even smell that scent, but there is an unmistakable undercurrent of B.O. So I manically start sniffing under my arms like on a tv commercial, but notice that it's attached to every inch of my sweater. Now, I know that wool tends to smell weird when it's wet, but this is not that kind of smell, and my sweater is perfectly dry. It smells like B.O. All I can figure is that the basement has poisoned my sweater (and by extension, all of my just-washed sweaters). Come to think of it, I just thought the person sitting next to me at our State of the College address yesterday had crazy weird B.O. Hmmm...it was probably my sweater. Damn it!
Now, if you know me, you know how much I hate my parents' basement, so this situation is particularly vexing. The previous owners of my parents' house had done up the main part of the basement as a charming rec room in the 1960's, complete with bar and atrocious (though undoubtedly trendy at the time) green and tan carpet that I can't adequately describe (I'll try to post a picture sometime...seriously, it's awful). The bar is long gone (replaced by showcase cabinets for my father's NASCAR memorabilia...uh, yeah), the charming fireplace was retrofitted to attach the coal stove my father decided to inherit from his father, but the carpet remains...over 15 years after moving in. I can only assume that the smell I'm carrying around like a disease is a combination of rotting carpet padding (though after approximately 43 years, it can't honestly still be actively rotting, but just rotted), coal dust, and general musty basement. (If radon had a smell, that would most certainly be mixed in as well). Ew. These scents are not apparent when running on the treadmill for 40 minutes a day, but obviously lock into a damp sweater left to dry overnight.
I am so embarrassed and peeved...and worried.
Why worried, you may ask? Mainly because I have to continue to live in this house, which in the winter is attempted (unsuccessfully) to be heated with just the aforementioned coal stove blasting away and a system of unstrategically located ceiling and other fans. This makes the basement a cozy 92 degrees while the rest of the house ranges between 50 (or less, I swear!) and 65. My parents are not poor (they're not rich either, by any means, but the have like 0 debts anymore), but they refuse to use the house's built-in electric heating system and will reset any thermostat in the house (each room has its own control) to "off" if you switch it on. The bathroom has an electric space heater to be used during morning showers, so there is no need to even THINK of turning heat on in there either. (Luckily I can escape to my electric fireplace in my attic room and keep that space a reasonable human temperature). Anyway, I'm worried that I won't be able to make it through this, let alone another, winter of crazy. I'm worried for my mental and for my general health. My sweaters not even considered -- I think I might get some form of Black Lung disease and die coughing up coal dust.
One thing I've learned from the sweater-washing experience? Well, it's just the same thing I already knew -- living with one's parents at 26 (going on 27) is a mistake. It's just so darn cost effective.
Monday, January 12, 2009
2009
Oh man, I just realized that I never wrote a happy new year post to the Roast Beef Concern! Better late than never, I assume, right? I don't know...maybe it doesn't even matter. I have seriously been writing a new year post in my head since about Christmas, but I just haven't gotten to the out with it part. I have the same problem with my children's book series about Bill the Cat, my young adult problem novel, my memoirs, and my variety of other writings (including the actual quarterly Roast Beef Concern newsletter). My mother thinks I have some motivation problems...I don't want to get into that now, though, so...
Happy 2009!
I'm glad for an odd year, aren't you? I feel safer - and braver - in odd years. I know...crazy. But I was born in an even year and graduated from HS, college, and Masters degree school in even years (whoa, I never really thought about that before!) and none of those years were particularly filled with joy. Most notably, a lot of debts came due in those years, and a lot of hard realities had to be faced at various points. If you know me, you probably think I'm being a little melodramatic, but seriously, when the first job you can even beg someone to give you after 6 years in college and grad school only pays $8.00 an hour, that's a pretty hard reality! (Luckily, an odd year came along in 2007 and granted me a *little* more earning potential than that).
But back to this year... On the subject of concern for how I will earn/use/keep some of my roast beef money, 2009 was already a bright spot on the horizon back in 2004 because my car was due to be paid off...TODAY, believe it or not (though I consolidated some debt and actually paid to get the title last April) and my main stack of student loans will decrease a percentage point in interest come November (because I've so dutifully been repaying on time since 2006). Last week I also worked up some sort of plan for paying aforementioned consolidated debt...all $8,000 left of it...by the end of the year (don't know if I can pull that off, but it's my goal). I really do want to have a grown up life by the time I'm 30, so I'm working as hard as I can. :-)
Soooo...I'm optimistic for the future, and you probably should be too. It's going to be a good year, this 2009. I just know it.
Happy 2009!
I'm glad for an odd year, aren't you? I feel safer - and braver - in odd years. I know...crazy. But I was born in an even year and graduated from HS, college, and Masters degree school in even years (whoa, I never really thought about that before!) and none of those years were particularly filled with joy. Most notably, a lot of debts came due in those years, and a lot of hard realities had to be faced at various points. If you know me, you probably think I'm being a little melodramatic, but seriously, when the first job you can even beg someone to give you after 6 years in college and grad school only pays $8.00 an hour, that's a pretty hard reality! (Luckily, an odd year came along in 2007 and granted me a *little* more earning potential than that).
But back to this year... On the subject of concern for how I will earn/use/keep some of my roast beef money, 2009 was already a bright spot on the horizon back in 2004 because my car was due to be paid off...TODAY, believe it or not (though I consolidated some debt and actually paid to get the title last April) and my main stack of student loans will decrease a percentage point in interest come November (because I've so dutifully been repaying on time since 2006). Last week I also worked up some sort of plan for paying aforementioned consolidated debt...all $8,000 left of it...by the end of the year (don't know if I can pull that off, but it's my goal). I really do want to have a grown up life by the time I'm 30, so I'm working as hard as I can. :-)
Soooo...I'm optimistic for the future, and you probably should be too. It's going to be a good year, this 2009. I just know it.
Monday, December 29, 2008
*Phew!*
I got Nintendo DS for Xmas, and it has two different brain training games (also a Zelda game and an eye training game).
This brought a certain degree of relief because now I can keep my brain from turning to slurry despite all the envelope stuffing!
I hope you all got what you wanted this season -- I know I'm pretty happy.
This brought a certain degree of relief because now I can keep my brain from turning to slurry despite all the envelope stuffing!
I hope you all got what you wanted this season -- I know I'm pretty happy.
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