Sunday, November 30, 2008

Homebody

Went to dinner last night with Meg, my 'rents and some family friends.

Watched a movie with Mom, Meg and a friend of hers.

Somewhere in there, I refused an invitation from Anna to go out.

I didn't think much of it until midnight, when I was crawling into bed. "What must she think of me, spending time at Mom and Dad's, instead of going to the bar?"

She probably thinks that I am odd. Too close to my family. "No wonder she's single," I can imagine her thinking, "she can't cut the cord."

I'm at Mom and Dad's house every weekend. I often spend the night. I am 26.

A psychotherapist love to get their claws in me, right?

I don't know why I even do it.

I'm not sure if it is for myself or if it is for my parents.

Because I feel safe there or because I cannot relax at my own house of if maybe I just have the emotional maturity of a preteen.

Meg does the same thing. We're both home a lot on the weekends. Reuniting the family unit? Getting taken care of? Whatever it is. We both do it. I'm probably worse.

It can't be normal.

I should probably stop.

Then I could, like, magically become normal. And maybe get a boyfriend or something.

I'm sure it is that easy.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Days and days

I hate when I feel like this.

When everything seems like too much effort.

When all I want is for the time to pass. To move on. To be over this.

I don't think its depression or boredom. Just a gloomy anxiety. Feeling stuck. Neither happy nor unhappy. Just there. Wanting to sleep until tomorrow. When I will feel more like me. Where I possess drive. Desire. Ambition. When I look at the clock and marvel at how quickly the day has passed, instead of bemoaning how much more of my day I need to tackle.

I hate it.

I don't want my days to feel like a chore. My life to feel like it drags.

I'll take the bad days as long as I have the good.

It is days like today - the ones that do not even warrant a label - that I dislike.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Cyclical

Three years ago this weekend, I stood up in Cousin Liz's wedding.

Three years ago this weekend, Aunt Marie was hospitalized due to an infection in her broken ankle.

This weekend, Liz's marriage is essentially over.
And Aunt Marie's foot has been amputated.

Things can change so quickly.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

It’s Pie Day!

One of my favorite days of the year.

I like the anticipation. I like the domestic bliss. I like the absurdity that is my mom’s patented pie formula.

My cousin Liz is coming over. There will be a lot of laughing. I will be made fun of – incessantly – for puking in her shoes on my birthday. Meg will make really nice piecrusts and I will feel inferior. We will dance in the kitchen. My dad will make us something “gourmet” for dinner (by his standards, not ours). (So what I’m saying is that he is going to make us some hotdogs.)

I will – hopefully – get to bed at a reasonable time. Meg, Anna and I are running a Turkey Trot. The run starts at 8. We are totally going to freeze our asses off. And then we’ll have a perfectly good excuse to eat anything and everything that crosses our paths.

Cannot believe that it is already Thanksgiving.

I’m almost 26 and two months.
My semester is two weeks from being dunzo.
The Athlete has been gone for four months. And he’ll be back in four more. (Wheee!)
It is so wintertime.
Colin and I have been caput for 11 months.
And today is Pie Day.

Goodie!

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Tuesday

Thought of the day: there’s nothing like getting bitched out by a customer 10 minutes after getting in.

Quote of the day: "Needing someone is like needing a parachute. If they are not there the first time you need them, chances are you won't be needing them again." Scott Adams

Task for the day: Starting my Christmas list. Grandma is going to strangle me if she has to ask me one more time.

On the agenda for today: work, gym, a touch of schoolwork and watching Meg’s hockey game.

Scare of the day: the ten seconds in which I couldn’t get my boots zipped, wondering how I was going to live down spending the workday wearing the pair of Uggs I had schlepped into the office in.

Amusement of the day: the themes clever ol’ Darren has come up with for our Christmas party, sent to me electronically, and the first email I read this morning.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Not quite there

I woke up this morning so, so pissed at Colin.

I keep thinking that I am entirely over him.

And then I wake up one morning and all I want is the opportunity to tell him off. To snap at him. To tell him how much better off I am without him.

I want to know who she is. If he's living with her. What made her so much better than me.

I want to scream at him.

It has been nearly a year. And I want to scream at him.

That wears off eventually. Right?

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Risk and reward

I'm sure that hearing about my schoolwork really bores you.
Sorry.
I'm just a little anxious.

I just turned in what was probably the best paper I've written in graduate school. It was that rare paper that just pored out of me. I knew what I wanted to write and I wrote it. And I wrote it well.

The problem is that it doesn't exactly follow the assignment.

I cleared it with the professor. I think I'll get dinged on it anyway.

We had to visit a library and interview a librarian. (Sounds pretty elementary, right?) She gave us a list of questions to ask. We were supposed to ask them all. Transcribe them. And turn it in. Question and answer format. Requiring no thought. Requiring no skill.

My interview/library visit was a little more involved. The librarian let me sit with her and watch her work for a bit. She talked me through it. It was time consuming and, as a result, I didn't ask her all of the questions.

I told my professor that. Asked if I could write it up in paper format. She agreed.

It was the best paper I've written in graduate school.
I bet I don't get an A.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

It is a banner day

I went to Marshall's and found a ton of UM stuff on way super awesome buy-one-of-everything sale. There are perks to having a football of epically pathetic proportions!

On my way to class, I walked through the library. As I was walking by a bank of computer terminals, I saw it: an old man looking at porn. I thought to myself "are those naked people?" He minimized his screen as soon as I got closer. They were naked people.

Tonight, Lucy and I are going to see Matt Nathanson in concert. There are not many things that I love quite as much as a good concert with my best friend.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Attainable

I can do this.

The end of the semester is within my reach. I can see the finish line.

I can do this.

I can stay up late. I can finish these chapters.

I will finish strong.

I will amaze myself.

This semester won't kill me.

My biggest fear will be an A-.

On December 13, I'll be free.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Oh, nevermind

It was almost midnight when I took Emma home last night. I was feeling pretty good about how I had mitigated the situation. It could have been uglier.

And then I find out that Anna went back to her Mom and Dad's house sometime after I dropped off Emma. And they fought. And Emma stood behind Anna's car in the driveway so that she couldn't leave. Crazy insanity all around.

Anna better have had a damn good reason for going over to that house and stirring up what I had tried so hard to settle. Otherwise, I'm just painting her as a glutton for punishment.

I guess Aunt Marie had a seizure in the ER sometime after Emma and I left. She didn't wake up for an hour.

I'm not working today (I have a lot of vacation days that I'm going to lose at the end of the year). Anna has already been up. And back to bed. She might have been crying in her bedroom. I didn't want to bust in. I think she's asleep again.

So here I am - once again - totally at a loss for what to do.

This isn't what I'm good at. I think it is because of how I would handle the situation - by being closed off and focused and unwilling to accept help - that I feel like I can be nothing but a pest and a waste of space.

What I need is for someone (preferably my mom, but Grandma or Anna would do, too) to grab me by the shoulders and tell me what to do. In very detailed, step-by-step directions.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Not totally useless

When it comes to my Aunt Marie's health, I always feel like a failure. Like I cannot, in any way, help her in a way that would, like, actually do some good.

Anna and I were at dinner. We were going to a concert. And then Emma called to say that they had called EMS; Aunt Marie was in severe pain and needed to go to the hospital.

I went with Anna to the ER, even though there was nothing that I could do.

What I knew was that Emma was at the hospital. And that, eventually, she would need to leave.

So, that's what I did tonight. I skipped the concert and hung out in the emergency room until I could convince Emma that it was okay to leave. I drove her back to my house. Let her eat my leftovers. Watched a little bit of E! trastastic reality programming and then, just a few minutes ago, drove her home.

Maybe I don't know the difference between an enema and edema.

But at least I knew that the ER was no place for a high schooler.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Motor City madness

I don't know anything about the economy. I never even took an econ class. (And good thing - because I never would've passed it.)

I don't know anything about money. ...except that I don't have any.

So how can I be a regular consumer of mainstream media and not be anything but scared shitless?

Especially living here.

Michigan. Detroit. It certainly feels like the walls are caving in. Everything - everything - here is tied to the auto industry. I don't know a family without a connection. We're a Ford family, mostly. Though, thankfully, dad doesn't work directly for FoMoCo.

Cars are the backbone. If it breaks, this state is paralyzed.

There is nothing I can do to change it.

But you live it.
And you hear it.
And you can't help to absorb the constant anxiety.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Four

The weather was just like today.

Cold and dark. Raining slush. The crap side of a Michigan fall that is sunny and warm and crisp on the flip side.

I was right out of college. Confused and lost and trying to reestablish myself in a place where I hadn't lived - permanently, anyway - for four years.

I didn't know that I would still be blogging four years later.

I didn't know how much this blog would become part of my life.

I consider myself very lucky for falling into this four years ago. This is my life - detailed here in every glorious, embarrassing, hilarious, minuscule and ugly detail.

I love that it is all written down.

I love the idea of sharing it with someone.

Someday.

Smooth

In one of my patented jackass moves, I seem to have lost my credit card.

At soccer. Tonight.

Which probably means that Colin will be the one to call me and say he found it.

(Hi. I fucking hope not.)

Because that would be fun. Pretending to be gracious to him.

If he does call. (No, really, I really fucking hope not.) I think I'll be all - yo, how fucking stupid do you think I am? I clearly canceled it within 90 minutes of losing it - and then I'll hang up.

And probably not think about him again.

Because he really, honestly does not matter.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

If you didn't see Grey's, don't read this

Dear Grey's Anatomy writers,

Seriously? You fucking blow.

I cannot believe I just sat through an hour of that crap. When did Grey's Anatomy turn into the fucking Ghost Whisperer?

Denny again? Really? Here's the thing: you already killed him. You already killed him and he already came back (it was almost relevant last time) and Izzy Stevens already stood outside of the hospital for - what? - all of season three? Really?

And that Sadie character bores me. She is "woooo! Look at me! I am so wild and so crazy!" in an American accent. And then two seconds later, she says it with an Australian accent. And then I fall asleep.

Hints: Grey's Anatomy does not equal Ghost Whisperer. Grey's Anatomy does not equal Fight Club. Grey's Anatomy is not this lame. And Denny? He's dead.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Joining the club

I left work early today so that I could go to a doctor's appointment.*

Here is what I do at library things: I try to determine whether the librarian is married.

I like librarians. I am going to be a librarian. But, I'm not going to lie, a large segment of them look like...

...they look like librarians. Stereotypical librarians. Unwed, old maid librarians.

So I get sort of excited if they're married.

And really fired up if they're pregnant.

I suppose I could spend more time listening to what they say?

*School thing at a local library.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Median

At lunch yesterday, I read an article in McPaper...er...USA Today...about the ideal age for first marriage.

It was full of all sorts of statistics on the age of people when they are first married – who are more likely to fail, to succeed, to have a cohesive marriage or to end up divorced.

The median age at marriage is now the oldest since the U.S. Census started keeping track in the 1890s: almost 26 for women and almost 28 for men.

Here I am. Past my damn prime.

I remember when kids I went to high school with started getting married. At 21 or 22, we all shook our heads when we heard. “Are they insane?” we’d ask one another. “Is she pregnant?” It was outside of the norm. They were the strange ones.

And then something changed – we started graduating from college and getting jobs and buying houses – and the news was no longer so strange. “Good for her,” I say. “Do I know the guy she married?”

There is this one boy – bulky and awkward and so sweet – that I had gone to school with since elementary school. We were friends in high school but never bothered keeping in touch. It happens.

I heard that he was married. A wife and a kid. When I expressed my shock to my mother, she gently pointed out that I was at That Age. That I shouldn’t be surprised. That it was really quite normal.

And maybe that I’m the odd one.

(In my defense – my shock was really based around this particular husky, awkward, sweet boy, not all of my contemporaries.)

The article quoted a study in which they asked young adults and their parents about the best age to marry. That is something that I haven’t ever bothered to determine. I have never set a timeline for myself. Maybe it’s because I know I’ll marry the first slob who proposes. Maybe it is because I am far too aware that the prospects are so bleak that I would rather not identify an ideal age, as it is far too likely that I’ll surpass that age on my plummet into Old Maidhood. Maybe I’m afraid that, if I set an age, I’ll just jinx myself. (For the record, the young adults who were studied said 25, while their parents said 26).

I sent my work BFF Ashley the article. She’s nine months older than I am. And she is sitting in the same boat (we’ll call it the S.S. Pathetic).

Her response made me smile.

“Who ever said we were average though, really?”

It’s true.

They are numbers. I am not.

Sunday, November 09, 2008

It's always nice to dream

Darren came out on Friday night. At some point in the evening, he told me that I should plan a European vacation. ...that he can join me on. "You're good at that," he said, regarding my planning skills. We decided on Russia and the Czech Republic.

We're all talk.

I think.

The kid loves to travel, I'll give him that. He relishes being out of his environment. He gave me the entire "you're young, this is the only time you'll be able to do this" lecture.

I've always wanted to go to Russia.

For the rest of the weekend, I bounced the idea around in my head. What it would be like traveling with Darren. How much it would cost. When I could go. What we would do. Silly things. Daydreams.

The life that I live in my head is so much grander than the one that I live here in reality.

Friday, November 07, 2008

A night without homework

...but with more than enough other things.

I have a hockey game at 6:00.

And soccer at 8:00.

At 10:00, random people will be coming over to my house. So that we can go to the bar. You would think that I invited them over - or maybe Anna, since she lives with me - but you would be wrong. Meg put on her party planning hat. And invited people. To my house.

I don't care.

Except that the bathroom is dirtier than I would prefer (please, cleaning gods, inspire Anna while I am at work).

Except that I absolutely cannot have people to my house - even if they're just stopping in before they go to the bar - if there is not proper food to feed them. Just the thought makes me weak.

So there I was at the damn grocery store, buying brownie mix and chips and whatever else looked good, last night at 9.

Because I am my mom.

Thursday, November 06, 2008

I don't understand my feelings

I’m not into Darren.

He’s fun. He’s cute. He’s funny.
He is moody. Has a short fuse. Can be arrogant.

It would never work out.
I’m done with having a crush on him. Have been done for quite a while.

He joined Facebook this weekend. I was the first person he told. Gave him a few pointers. It was kind of cute.

Now he’s on The Facebook.

And I can see him flirting – hardcore – via The Facebook with this girl who we both know through work.

I’m jealous.

I’m not supposed to be jealous.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

2012

I'm not going to get political.

I have nothing to say that hasn't been said.

Today, Darren make some smart ass political jab. Probably just to get under my skin. (According to Ashley - who works in his office - he was chuckling about it later.)

I countered with: "Have I ever mentioned how classy you are?" He can be such a wanker.

The election cycle can make you insane.
It can make you awfully nostalgic, too.

I remember the first election I voted in. I fell asleep to the election coverage in my dorm room. I was a freshman in college. I was barely a month past my 18th birthday.
I remember the second election I voted in. I fell asleep to the election coverage on the couch at my mom and dad's house. I was barely a month past my 22nd birthday. Finished with college. Interning. Confused.
Yesterday was the third election I voted in. I watched the election coverage, but managed to get to my bed before going to sleep. (Thanks, early call.) I am barely a month past my 26th birthday.

The next time we vote for a president, I will be 30.

My age is the only thing I can be certain of.

Maybe I'll still be single. I hope not. And, if I am, I hope I am content in it.
Maybe I'll still be working at my job. I hope not. This master's degree isn't cheap.
Maybe I'll be voting from a state other than reliably blue Michigan.
Maybe I'll be a mom.

I look back on the eight years since I first cast a ballot in a presidential election and, honestly, I don't know how much I've changed. Older, yes. More educated, sure. A few bad mistakes behind me. But the girl I was in 2000 and the girl I am today? The same. So. Exactly. The. Same.

Yesterday, the country got change.

When do I get mine?

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Election Day Gourmet

I started my dinner with two pieces of naan. You can get it frozen from Trader Joe's. Delicious? You betcha.

Moved on to chicken potstickers. (Also from Trader Joe's.)

And then a bowl of Greek yogurt, sweetened with a spoonful of honey.

What?! I ran three miles today! And I need brain food for watching the election return at the edge of the couch.

I think I'll finish up the night with a big glass of water.

And a caramel apple.

Reprieve

My brain is full of a lot of nothing today. I don’t really mind. Schoolwork is on the light side this week, and I’m enjoying a break from repeating a list of what I have to do in my head. Over and over and over.

Online quiz. Groceries. Computer certification. Watch lecture. Do laundry. Gym. Try to get to bed at a decent hour. Call mom. Don’t spend two hours aimlessly clicking around Facebook.

I’ll pay the price for this quiet week next week. And the week after. And then no classes for the week of Thanksgiving. Then, two weeks of hell and I’m through. Hurrah? Oh, yes. Hurrah.

Did I mention that I’m running a 5K with my sister on Thanksgiving morning? It seemed like an amazing idea when we registered at the end of September. Before it was bitterly cold. Now we spend amazing amounts of time, effort and energy attempting to figure out what we will wear to ensure that we’re both warm and mobile on race day.

Knowing Michigan, it will end up being 55 degrees.

Predictably unpredictable. That’s how we roll here in the D.

I voted absentee. I am enjoying laughing at all of my coworkers who are gearing up to get in line at 6:00 tonight. So far, I have managed to skillfully avoid any political chatter. I can be rather passionate in some of my opinions. That can of worms? Better to be left unopened. Discussion of one statewide ballot proposal in particular, Proposal 2, could easily bring me to tears.

My hair may finally be out of The Awkward Length of Horrible that it feels like it has been in for the last few weeks. I’m not doing anything different – it has just decided to start behaving. Or has grown to the proper length to properly weigh down my hair so that I no longer look like the Whirling Dervish of Crazy.

Someone on my soccer team up and joined another team in our league. Claimed she didn’t know we were playing this session. Whatev. Pisses me off.

Monday, November 03, 2008

This time thing? It really flies.

I just registered for my last semester of graduate school.

Are you kidding me? My last semester? I am fairly certain that I just started.

(I am far from upset to be nearly finished. I just cannot believe how quickly it went!)

In other news, we had a miracle this fine weekend. I finished a big project. 12 days early. Unheard of.

Of course, I didn't touch what I have due tomorrow.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

Not this November

Have done NaBloPoMo for the last two years.

2008? Not gonna happen.

I'm good at keeping myself disgustingly busy.

For once in my life, I'm going to attempt to have a little restraint.
 
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