Monthly Archives: April 2008

ferusterated – and a bit of piss and moan

I’ve been carrying this chip around on my shoulder.  The one that sometimes makes me feel like Eeyore. Then boy points out that when I get down I don’t get “oh, pity me,” but more like “fuck the world.”  I think I hide it well.  sometimes.  But I’m just frustrated.  mostly there’s just never enough time in the day to get my focus going to have every hour moving toward getting things accomplished. 

And mostly because the pills aren’t working how I remember them to work which in turn creates anxiety which defeats the whole purpose, right?  My health insurance requires I pay upwards of $1200 before they kick in the co-pay for getting the appropriate doctor on my team to prescribe the right pills and my regular doctor is going to lecture me if I call for a dosage increase without scheduling an appointment with a proper doctor.  But really, $1200 verses $5 for the bottle of pills?  c’mon. 

and the 5’6 135lb nut job wanted to sit down by the copy machine to cry a tear or two when the dick of colleague thought it was nice to say “you aren’t as skinny as you used to be, are you?”  I know what he meant (quickly followed up with “but you look good.  like where you should be.”)  I know I’m not chubby, but just try convincing my self-perception and see what you come up against.  A heavily fortified brick wall.

This should be an open letter to the insurance company.  B/c obviously, I need a shrink, but instead you made the pills cheaper so I will rely on those instead.  Farquwads.

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a little sweaty

I told boy if he paid for my trip to Spain, I will do this hike with him. Just watching it makes my palms start to sweat followed by a rush of dizzy at certain points throughout the hike. While I’m not afraid of heights, I am scared of cliff-sides. Falling off cliff-sides to be exact. I have a habit of finding news stories about people falling off the Grand Canyon, sliding down Half Dome in Yosemite and 22 year olds falling off cliff-sides in Marin County and e-mailing them to boy as if to say “it happens.” Because sometimes I think he thinks he’s stonger than he is and when he flails down a steep hill in Point Reyes unable to stop laughing hysterically and bowling me over to try and use me to slow him down, well, I get a little worried. And me, well, I tend to sit on my butt and slide down steep hills and I’ve done this ever since I learned my lesson at the ripe age of 3 and slid down my grandparents’ stairs only to bust my head open (i think there’s video of my most recent ass-sliding down a hill somewhere.) And i’m worried, because I think boy is now planning our next trip to Spain.

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and my heart melted away

when from 2,000 miles away, my 3 year old niece pointed to a picture of me and told my mom, “that’s MY Aunt Alison.”

Molly Beans = love.

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euybowel

b/c that’s what I put in when boy told me to do a search for “Uwe Boll”.  I had no idea what the hell he was talking about.  And then he showed me this.  And it’s funny shit.


 

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lessons from pictures

I spent a few hours last night looking for 2 pictures in particular but finding a ton more that I had forgotten about. I have a lot of pictures, as do most people, but I learned early on from being around a photographer hobbyist grandfather that I am undeniably not photogenic. My sister has this signature pose, she throws her head back and smiles big, wide, goofy, unabashedly for the camera. Me, I tense up, get awkward, scrunch my face into an unnatural smile and squint my eyes and truly convey all the awkwardness I feel at being in front of the camera. To make up for this I asked my grandfather to teach me photography during a summer in high school. He loaned me a Leica from his collection and I set out shooting pics of my sister in the backyard jumping through sprinklers and swinging on a hammock and wrote out little exercises that my grandfather prepared for me. I have loved taking pictures ever since.  And while I don’t yet have a DSLR, (hint hint, wink wink, nudge anyone sitting next to me off their seat), I still like having a camera around to get shots of people as they do their thing.  So, in short, I have a lot of pics because I was always the one with a camera.

I noticed that a lot of the pictures I dug through last night were of times I never thought to be looking back on (not something people tend to think of when taking pictures.) And what struck me, sort of in a sad way, was that I smiled, a hellaofalot more than I smile now. Also, I looked good. And I wouldn’t say that but for the fact that I have never liked my body. And in some of the pictures I found, I remember the day exactly in terms of how I felt about myself and I felt pretty low. I would put on outfits thinking I was fat or that my face was chubby or that my hair would never ever be considered nice hair. And looking back I am envious for who I once was because I still have that same uncomfortable in my body feeling that I did back then except a little more skin and/or stretch marks here and there. 

And I wonder if 5 years from now I’ll have the same moment.  Looking back on pics of random hikes and just hanging around the apartment feeling the same way.  And if 5 years from now I’ll feel the same way about how I look in pictures and how I look in the mirror before I walk out the door.  I hope not, but I know that tomorrow, there will be no final stops in front of the mirror before I walk out.  I will grab my stuff and go.  And I will try and spend less time fretting over the bangs blowing away or the pimple on my chin and I’ll just smile next time someone else is trying to take my picture.  Worrying about what angle I’m standing at so that my hips don’t look so wide in a picture, it’s taking time away from my day.  And as my days grow seemingly longer with more activity that doesn’t seem to be helping anyone in particular, one glance in the mirror gone will give me some time back in my day.

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conversation running dry

I think the only thing I will take away from lab this semester is a total infatuation with ferns and conifers.  And of course when I get excited about something it’s really hard for me to hide it.  I’ve lectured many a people on the beauty of ferns.  And I have a pine cone that I set on the heater to open up sitting in my kitchen, simply because it looks neat. 

Tonight me, boy, and a friend had dinner, and we each worked today and were pretty worn out.  So I started talking about ferns.  And cones.  And I go on and on and on.  And work myself up into an excited fern and cone lecture only to have my friend smile at me at the end and say “yeah, you’ve told me this already.” 

So in the car coming home I’m kind of bummed that I’ve spread the word about ferns and conifers to everyone I know and I have no one else to tell it to, but I thought it was funny that my friend let me tell the whooole thing over again before stopping me.  Then he said “you know, no one cares about ferns and cones.  They just let you talk away because you get really excited when you talk about it.”

Even if it’s not true, it was sweet.  No less embarrassing, but sweet.

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i just got gossip-booked

Yeah, I’m on facebook.  Because I’m a marketer and the whole social media networking world is the place to be.  But I’m just a dabbler.  I sign up and just snoop around in other people’s profiles and toy with the applications so I know what people are referring to in conversation.  I’m not a great networker, mainly because i’m a total introvert and shy away from that kind of thing, but I have a presence. 

I receive application invites from those people who have graffiti’d pages.  Some I ignore, some I take just for fun, others confuse me because of weird in between pop-ups.  The latest one I did was a comparison test between friends.  Now, some of the people I have friended I don’t really know at all.  And then it kept asking would I date this person?  And yeah right.  I don’t want to date my manager.  Or my other manager, or my boyfriend’s uncle, or the friend of an ex-boyfriend.  Half-way in I realized this was a mistake.  I have no idea in what feed this will get published and I raced through it, skipped over half the q’s, and did I actually just click yes I would date this person by accident?  Crap. 

A day later I get a report back from the application in my inbox.  I open it to find this:

 

Your friends have voted on your strengths and weaknesses:

STRENGTHS: most absentee, most generous, toughest

WEAKNESSES: most creative, merriest

And because I was that over-sensitive girl in high school that never quite fit into a group and I’m still bitter about that whole prom experience, my first response was, “What?!  I hate you all!”

And then I realized, hey, it’s facebook.  Despite however professional these networks claim to be, someones always going to ruin it with the popularity contest.  And i’ve got a curtain to embroider, so I simply have no time for these shenanigans.

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