Happy New Year's Eve/New Year! I'm back from a vacation-induced blogging hiatus (didn't want to schlep my laptop around), and will post some sort of 2012 recap when I'm less exhausted. Since I didn't get home from the airport until about 9pm tonight, my wild n' crazy New Year's Eve plans consist of eating soup and trying as hard as I possibly can to stay up until midnight pacific time even though I'm still on eastern time.
So, Happy 2013 to all, and to all a good night!
Must...stay....awake...
December 31, 2012
December 20, 2012
How to Know When You've Found True Love
When you're in love:
Hours spent together can seem to pass by in seconds
You often feel a tightness in your chest because you're so enamored by your love that you've forgotten to breathe
The idea of spending forever together isn't scary in the slightest.
But why limit yourself to just one love? Why not have two, five or fifty? In fact, you shouldn't limit your capacity to love to a specific number; welcome new loves into your heart any time one enters your life. That way you can have different loves to suit your different moods, needs, life stages, the list goes on and on.
On that note, have a lovely holidays
(If you haven't figured it out by now, music is the love of my life).
Hours spent together can seem to pass by in seconds
You often feel a tightness in your chest because you're so enamored by your love that you've forgotten to breathe
The idea of spending forever together isn't scary in the slightest.
But why limit yourself to just one love? Why not have two, five or fifty? In fact, you shouldn't limit your capacity to love to a specific number; welcome new loves into your heart any time one enters your life. That way you can have different loves to suit your different moods, needs, life stages, the list goes on and on.
(If you haven't figured it out by now, music is the love of my life).
December 17, 2012
Some People Have Real Problems
I always jump at the chance to slip a music reference into my posts, and tonight's title happens to be a lovely album by Sia that I've spent a good chunk of my life with since its release a few years ago. You should listen to it if you're in the mood for something soothing and not particularly sad.
Now onto the real problems that some people have...
A funky stomach bug kept me couch-ridden for a good chunk of the weekend, so I spent a lot of time watching news coverage of the Newtown elementary school shooting, including all subsequent television programs highlighting all of the violent and tragic events that have occurred in the recent and not-so-recent past. I doubt I'm alone in this, but after a weekend spent listening to stories of kids getting killed at school and shoppers getting killed in malls and war and death and poverty, I've been pulled out of the world in my head where stupid trivialities become much bigger than necessary because they lack proper perspective. Because, some people have real problems.
The Newtown shooting also triggered an interesting conversation with my mom about an event from my own childhood, and got me thinking about the kids who survived the Newtown shooting. It happened when I was six, while I was selling lemonade on a street corner with my neighbors. This particular day was fairly windy, and at one point a stack of styrofoam cups blew out of a plastic bag I was holding and into the street. My four year old neighbor, always eager to show off his running skills, darted into the street after the cups. All I remember next is screeching breaks, an indescribable popping sound, screams, and my little neighbor laying still in the street before my sister grabbed my arm and we ran home.
When my dad told us later that night that my neighbor had died, and my first thought was 'If I hadn't dropped those cups he'd still be alive. How could this happen?' Armed with a six-year-old's knowledge of death, I though it was reserved solely for old people. I couldn't quite fathom that someone younger than my self could die. I'm sure this event played a bigger role than I even realize on shaping my personality, even though I was so young when it happened. I can't even imagine how the kids in Newtown must feel, having heard (and possibly seen) the shots that killed their classmates.
Now onto the real problems that some people have...
A funky stomach bug kept me couch-ridden for a good chunk of the weekend, so I spent a lot of time watching news coverage of the Newtown elementary school shooting, including all subsequent television programs highlighting all of the violent and tragic events that have occurred in the recent and not-so-recent past. I doubt I'm alone in this, but after a weekend spent listening to stories of kids getting killed at school and shoppers getting killed in malls and war and death and poverty, I've been pulled out of the world in my head where stupid trivialities become much bigger than necessary because they lack proper perspective. Because, some people have real problems.
The Newtown shooting also triggered an interesting conversation with my mom about an event from my own childhood, and got me thinking about the kids who survived the Newtown shooting. It happened when I was six, while I was selling lemonade on a street corner with my neighbors. This particular day was fairly windy, and at one point a stack of styrofoam cups blew out of a plastic bag I was holding and into the street. My four year old neighbor, always eager to show off his running skills, darted into the street after the cups. All I remember next is screeching breaks, an indescribable popping sound, screams, and my little neighbor laying still in the street before my sister grabbed my arm and we ran home.
When my dad told us later that night that my neighbor had died, and my first thought was 'If I hadn't dropped those cups he'd still be alive. How could this happen?' Armed with a six-year-old's knowledge of death, I though it was reserved solely for old people. I couldn't quite fathom that someone younger than my self could die. I'm sure this event played a bigger role than I even realize on shaping my personality, even though I was so young when it happened. I can't even imagine how the kids in Newtown must feel, having heard (and possibly seen) the shots that killed their classmates.
December 13, 2012
Cleansing Categories
There are four types of showers:
1. The showers you take because your hair or skin is dirty and needs to be washed.
2. The showers you take because you need to think about something, especially if you are the type who thinks most clearly in a room filled with steam (ironic, isn't it?).
3. The showers you take because you wish to metaphorically wash something away: a rough day, bad feelings, or perhaps because you need to have a good cry in a pre-dampened space.
4. And, the all-of-the-above shower, which I suppose I just took.
1. The showers you take because your hair or skin is dirty and needs to be washed.
2. The showers you take because you need to think about something, especially if you are the type who thinks most clearly in a room filled with steam (ironic, isn't it?).
3. The showers you take because you wish to metaphorically wash something away: a rough day, bad feelings, or perhaps because you need to have a good cry in a pre-dampened space.
4. And, the all-of-the-above shower, which I suppose I just took.
December 11, 2012
New Year's Resolution #1: Use The Force
Inertia: a property of matter by which it remains at rest or
in uniform motion in the same straight line unless acted upon by some
external force.
Physics lesson aside (I can hear your collective sigh of relief), I've started thinking about what aspects of my life I'd like to tweak for the coming year. The first trait that sticks out is my tendency to sit back and wait for the things I want in life to fall into my lap; then be disappointed when they don't. I know, aside from super lotto winners, life doesn't work like that, and yet I continue to sit back wait for a stroke of luck to put everything in its right place.
I don't think laziness is the culprit here. I am not, nor have I ever been lazy, by any definition of the word, but after spending the first half of the year putting in 80-100 hour weeks, I burned out to such an extent that I never quite burned back in (I know, 'burn-in' isn't an expression, but I needed to create a sense of opposition).
Since there's no better time to 'burn-in' than the start of a new year, 2013 is going to be the year I make a real effort to move my life in the direction of my choice. Rather than my usual, passive, 'woe is me - better luck next year' attitude, I'm going to go after what I want, be it in my professional, personal or social life.
Physics lesson aside (I can hear your collective sigh of relief), I've started thinking about what aspects of my life I'd like to tweak for the coming year. The first trait that sticks out is my tendency to sit back and wait for the things I want in life to fall into my lap; then be disappointed when they don't. I know, aside from super lotto winners, life doesn't work like that, and yet I continue to sit back wait for a stroke of luck to put everything in its right place.
I don't think laziness is the culprit here. I am not, nor have I ever been lazy, by any definition of the word, but after spending the first half of the year putting in 80-100 hour weeks, I burned out to such an extent that I never quite burned back in (I know, 'burn-in' isn't an expression, but I needed to create a sense of opposition).
Since there's no better time to 'burn-in' than the start of a new year, 2013 is going to be the year I make a real effort to move my life in the direction of my choice. Rather than my usual, passive, 'woe is me - better luck next year' attitude, I'm going to go after what I want, be it in my professional, personal or social life.
 |
| The Force: it worked for them... |
December 8, 2012
My Hanukkah Bar is Set Nice and Low
As evidenced from my previous post-Hanukkah blog entries. 2011 Hanukkah was right before a CPA exam, and 2010 Hanukkah was during finals week of my most difficult semester in college.
2011 Hanukkah Entry
2010 Hanukkah Entry
I'm fairly confident that Hanukkah 2012 will be better because A) I have a menorah, dreidels and gelt, B) I interact with other human beings on a semi-regular basis, so I might actually get to use the items mentioned in part A, and C) I am only two weeks away from a real, bona-fide vacation.
So, here's to Hanukkah 2012 being better than the last two. Per blog tradition, here's a cute Hanukkah-related picture.
Also, last night while not sleeping, I was trying to recall the hebrew alphabet song and couldn't quite remember all the letters. So here's the hebrew alphabet (minus vowels), in case you're interested. It reads from right to left.
2011 Hanukkah Entry
2010 Hanukkah Entry
I'm fairly confident that Hanukkah 2012 will be better because A) I have a menorah, dreidels and gelt, B) I interact with other human beings on a semi-regular basis, so I might actually get to use the items mentioned in part A, and C) I am only two weeks away from a real, bona-fide vacation. So, here's to Hanukkah 2012 being better than the last two. Per blog tradition, here's a cute Hanukkah-related picture.
Also, last night while not sleeping, I was trying to recall the hebrew alphabet song and couldn't quite remember all the letters. So here's the hebrew alphabet (minus vowels), in case you're interested. It reads from right to left.
November 28, 2012
A Possible Explanation for Why I Like Rain (And Why You Should Too)
In the Spanish language, the verb for to rain is llover.
Llover is the word 'lover' with an extra 'L' tacked onto it.
So you see, there's a natural connection between love and rain, which is why I'm so happy about the weather right now.
Llover is the word 'lover' with an extra 'L' tacked onto it.
So you see, there's a natural connection between love and rain, which is why I'm so happy about the weather right now.
November 26, 2012
The Monday After A Long Weekend
After a long and exciting Thanksgiving break, I'm attempting to settle back into the slower, more marathon-like pace of work life with some mellow tunes - specifically those of a band called Bad Books. Here's a few samples of their mellow-dies. Enjoy.
The After Party
Friendly Advice
You're A Mirror I Cannot Avoid
The After Party
Friendly Advice
You're A Mirror I Cannot Avoid
November 14, 2012
November 13, 2012
Can Anybody Hear Me?
In Person
Phone
Text
Facebook
Blog
Twitter
Instagram
Spotify
Etc...
There are so many ways to communicate that we've all grown too lazy to put any effort into keeping in touch with one another. This makes me sad. I wish I grew up 30 years ago when it was harder to communicate, so people actually had to put in some effort.
Phone
Text
Blog
Spotify
Etc...
There are so many ways to communicate that we've all grown too lazy to put any effort into keeping in touch with one another. This makes me sad. I wish I grew up 30 years ago when it was harder to communicate, so people actually had to put in some effort.
November 9, 2012
A Lesson
Sometimes, things are not going to be okay.
They're just going to change.
Don't despair, readers (you exist, I think). This doesn't mean that all is lost and doom is imminent. What I'm trying to convey is that sometimes, when we lose something (be it death, a breakup, a wallet, etc.), we think that the only way things will ever be okay again is if we can get the thing we lost back. By accepting that things are going to change, they'll eventually return to being okay. Just a different okay than you had before.
They're just going to change.
Don't despair, readers (you exist, I think). This doesn't mean that all is lost and doom is imminent. What I'm trying to convey is that sometimes, when we lose something (be it death, a breakup, a wallet, etc.), we think that the only way things will ever be okay again is if we can get the thing we lost back. By accepting that things are going to change, they'll eventually return to being okay. Just a different okay than you had before.
November 6, 2012
It's Election Day
I have a lot to say about this election, but as it is so early, I can't really put my thoughts into coherent sentences. Also, I want to keep my political views off this blog, so all I will say is that I cannot even look at one of the candidates without feeling uncomfortable (that should make it easy...think of which guy has the smile of a sociopath...or serial killer). Therefore, I hope the other candidate wins.
Happy Election Day.
Happy Election Day.
November 1, 2012
Time Flies When....You Lose Track of It
This year, my holiday mantra will be the same one that I've had the last three years: Better luck next year, kid.
October 30, 2012
Weird Things I Hear
I have a co-worker who has a tendency to say unusual things, and by unusual I mean blunt, inappropriate, strange, awkward, etc... Before I forget, I thought I'd share the best of the best.
Co-worker: I have a question. Did you get fat while you were studying for the CPA exams?
Me: *Odd sideways glance* I don't know. You tell me.
Translation: [If I did get fat, use your eyes to answer the question. If I didn't get fat, also use your eyes to answer the question. Also, just never ask a girl about getting fat.]
Co-worker: I can't tell. I thought you'd know.
. . .
Co-worker: Wait- do girls piss standing up?
Me: *Odd sideways glance* No.
Translation: [Piss? Nice choice of words. I'd hate to be the barer of bad news, but girls actually lack a certain aimable appendage that allows one to piss standing up.]
Co-worker: Oh. Cool.
. . .
Co-worker: Your work pants look comfortable. Can you do squats in them?
Me: *Odd sideways glance* Not sure.
Translation: [I don't usually do squats at work, and I don't wear my work pants to the gym.]
Co-worker: Hmm. Weird. I can.
. . .
Co-worker: Do your parents ever tell you they love you?
Me: *Odd sideways glance* Yes.
Translation: [If he says no I'm going to feel awkward...]
Co-worker: Oh. Mine don't.
End note: I didn't give any context to any of these mini conversations because there usually isn't any.
Other end note: He often wonders aloud why he is single. I say nothing.
Co-worker: I have a question. Did you get fat while you were studying for the CPA exams?
Me: *Odd sideways glance* I don't know. You tell me.
Translation: [If I did get fat, use your eyes to answer the question. If I didn't get fat, also use your eyes to answer the question. Also, just never ask a girl about getting fat.]
Co-worker: I can't tell. I thought you'd know.
. . .
Co-worker: Wait- do girls piss standing up?
Me: *Odd sideways glance* No.
Translation: [Piss? Nice choice of words. I'd hate to be the barer of bad news, but girls actually lack a certain aimable appendage that allows one to piss standing up.]
Co-worker: Oh. Cool.
. . .
Co-worker: Your work pants look comfortable. Can you do squats in them?
Me: *Odd sideways glance* Not sure.
Translation: [I don't usually do squats at work, and I don't wear my work pants to the gym.]
Co-worker: Hmm. Weird. I can.
. . .
Co-worker: Do your parents ever tell you they love you?
Me: *Odd sideways glance* Yes.
Translation: [If he says no I'm going to feel awkward...]
Co-worker: Oh. Mine don't.
End note: I didn't give any context to any of these mini conversations because there usually isn't any.
Other end note: He often wonders aloud why he is single. I say nothing.
October 23, 2012
Mid-Week Realization
In the workplace (and in real life, but that's a whole other story), there are too many people who put in as little effort as possible, and are upset when they don't receive the praise and rewards they think they are entitled to expect.
Guess what guys, with unemployment rates what they are, be glad you have a job at all and start pulling your weight. It's called 'work' for a reason.
Guess what guys, with unemployment rates what they are, be glad you have a job at all and start pulling your weight. It's called 'work' for a reason.
October 19, 2012
Hit The Nail On The Head
Earlier in the week, I agreed to attend a concert with a friend. Since I barely know the band, I've been sitting in my room for the last two hours listening to their music, so when I see them live next week I won't feel like an idiot.
Great story, eh? Don't worry - despite my lack of creative blogging lately, something that mundane will never qualify as news worthy of a post. Paragraph 1 was merely the setup: my brain does its finest churning while under the influence of music (especially mellow stuff, which is the case tonight).
Since May, I've been taking note of the personality changes between my pre-studying self and my post-studying self. I expected that my personality wouldn't come back right away (just ask anyone who's had a lobotomy), but now that it's been a few months, I've been increasingly worried by the fact that many of my pre-studying characteristics and hobbies have not returned (and will probably never return). I feel like the kid who dropped an armful of marbles and is now trying unsuccessfully to chase after every last one (feel free to insert a 'she lost her marbles' quip here - I backed myself into that one).
Tonight, while the unknown band's music played, I read through my entire blog archive.
Conclusion: I am a completely different person now. Completely. I can still hear my voice in the older writings, yet I'm beginning to feel the same way as I do when I watch home videos of my toddler self; I realize that the person I'm staring at is me but find it hard to relate or identify with that former version of myself.
My interests aren't gone - they've just changed. Because I've changed, which is totally normal between the ages of 22 and 24. Inserting a 7-month period of essentially cutting all ties with everything and everyone during that time simply accentuated/accelerated the changes that were going to happen anyway. Even without the studying, the changes still would have occurred, but it would have been more of an effort on my part to notice and track them.
So, much to my relief, my personality is not gone. When any event serious enough to temporarily erase your personality slate occurs (studying...or sickness, deaths, breakups, etc...), it's fascinating to see which old traits return, which don't, and which completely new ones pop up.
Kind of like a garden of unknown seedlings that are just starting to break through the soil (dumb final metaphor, but it's late, so forgive me).
What are they?
Great story, eh? Don't worry - despite my lack of creative blogging lately, something that mundane will never qualify as news worthy of a post. Paragraph 1 was merely the setup: my brain does its finest churning while under the influence of music (especially mellow stuff, which is the case tonight).
Since May, I've been taking note of the personality changes between my pre-studying self and my post-studying self. I expected that my personality wouldn't come back right away (just ask anyone who's had a lobotomy), but now that it's been a few months, I've been increasingly worried by the fact that many of my pre-studying characteristics and hobbies have not returned (and will probably never return). I feel like the kid who dropped an armful of marbles and is now trying unsuccessfully to chase after every last one (feel free to insert a 'she lost her marbles' quip here - I backed myself into that one).
Tonight, while the unknown band's music played, I read through my entire blog archive.
Conclusion: I am a completely different person now. Completely. I can still hear my voice in the older writings, yet I'm beginning to feel the same way as I do when I watch home videos of my toddler self; I realize that the person I'm staring at is me but find it hard to relate or identify with that former version of myself.
My interests aren't gone - they've just changed. Because I've changed, which is totally normal between the ages of 22 and 24. Inserting a 7-month period of essentially cutting all ties with everything and everyone during that time simply accentuated/accelerated the changes that were going to happen anyway. Even without the studying, the changes still would have occurred, but it would have been more of an effort on my part to notice and track them.
So, much to my relief, my personality is not gone. When any event serious enough to temporarily erase your personality slate occurs (studying...or sickness, deaths, breakups, etc...), it's fascinating to see which old traits return, which don't, and which completely new ones pop up.
Kind of like a garden of unknown seedlings that are just starting to break through the soil (dumb final metaphor, but it's late, so forgive me).
What are they?
October 9, 2012
Photo Essence
I'm not a huge fan of posting pictures of myself all over the blog, but once in a while, I'll come upon a photo that captures my essence.
Here is the first one. Inside, wearing a pea coat, and drinking cherry coke zero through a straw with a completely unnecessary pink umbrella.
I found the second one today. While in the early stages of a refreshing dip, I suddenly decide that cold water sucks, and rethink my decision while I cover my face with claw-hands.
There's really no rhyme or reason (or code to crack or pattern to uncover) as to why these photos are so me. I guess my best explanation is that they are candid shots of me doing the kooky things (such as unnecessary drink umbrellas and claw hands) that I'm usually doing when cameras aren't around.
Here is the first one. Inside, wearing a pea coat, and drinking cherry coke zero through a straw with a completely unnecessary pink umbrella.
I found the second one today. While in the early stages of a refreshing dip, I suddenly decide that cold water sucks, and rethink my decision while I cover my face with claw-hands.
There's really no rhyme or reason (or code to crack or pattern to uncover) as to why these photos are so me. I guess my best explanation is that they are candid shots of me doing the kooky things (such as unnecessary drink umbrellas and claw hands) that I'm usually doing when cameras aren't around.
October 8, 2012
24 Years After The Day I Was Born
First things first, happy birthday to me! I survived my 23rd year, though 7 of the 12 months were absolute study-hell. No matter, I'm 24 now!
Today was a good day, as far as birthdays go. I played hooky from work (if hooky means formally scheduling the day off a month in advance) and stayed home (parents home) for an extra day.
The day got off to a not-particularly-birthdayish start: a trip to the dentist in which the hygienist went to town on my coffee/soda stains (probably my fault, but I've recently cut back, so next time should be better), and then informed me that the dentist noticed a cavity in 2010 and wrote it in my file, but never filled it. They asked me if I wanted to get it filled today. I said no. (Who gets a cavity filled on their birthday?)
Next was a birthday massage, a tradition running two years strong (and hopefully forever).
Lunch was excellent, followed by a dessert of pumpkin ice cream topped with a fluffy pumpkin cookie and accompanied by pumpkin coffee.
The day took an interesting turn during an evening walk with my mom. Out of nowhere, she dropped the 'why don't you try match.com?' bomb. Apparently, it's how everyone is meeting people these days (which makes me...no one?). I can't verbalize my opposition to online dating as well as I'd like to. I just don't want to do it, and I'm afraid that my already dwindling faith in humanity will die completely if I repeatedly subject myself to awful dates. I told her no.
"Fine," she said, "but you don't really ever meet people in your day to day life, and if you wait until you're too old to go online, all the good ones will be gone." I promised her that I will try it next year, hoping that I'll meet someone not online and never have to go through with it.
My mom must have conspired with the universe (or at least the Gods that control the radio), because the first song that played as I drove back to my apartment was this little ditty. Very funny, universe. I told you, I'll try it next year!
Today was a good day, as far as birthdays go. I played hooky from work (if hooky means formally scheduling the day off a month in advance) and stayed home (parents home) for an extra day.
The day got off to a not-particularly-birthdayish start: a trip to the dentist in which the hygienist went to town on my coffee/soda stains (probably my fault, but I've recently cut back, so next time should be better), and then informed me that the dentist noticed a cavity in 2010 and wrote it in my file, but never filled it. They asked me if I wanted to get it filled today. I said no. (Who gets a cavity filled on their birthday?)
Next was a birthday massage, a tradition running two years strong (and hopefully forever).
Lunch was excellent, followed by a dessert of pumpkin ice cream topped with a fluffy pumpkin cookie and accompanied by pumpkin coffee.
The day took an interesting turn during an evening walk with my mom. Out of nowhere, she dropped the 'why don't you try match.com?' bomb. Apparently, it's how everyone is meeting people these days (which makes me...no one?). I can't verbalize my opposition to online dating as well as I'd like to. I just don't want to do it, and I'm afraid that my already dwindling faith in humanity will die completely if I repeatedly subject myself to awful dates. I told her no.
"Fine," she said, "but you don't really ever meet people in your day to day life, and if you wait until you're too old to go online, all the good ones will be gone." I promised her that I will try it next year, hoping that I'll meet someone not online and never have to go through with it.
My mom must have conspired with the universe (or at least the Gods that control the radio), because the first song that played as I drove back to my apartment was this little ditty. Very funny, universe. I told you, I'll try it next year!
October 1, 2012
September 30, 2012
Gut Feelings
My stomach doesn't always properly fulfill it's stomach-y duties ('doesn't always' --> rarely). As a result, I've grown accustomed to a low-grade stomachache at some point each day.
Unfortunately, I think all of my literal gut feelings are causing me to ignore/excuse any figurative gut feelings I may have. Either that, or I enjoy making things harder on myself.
Unfortunately, I think all of my literal gut feelings are causing me to ignore/excuse any figurative gut feelings I may have. Either that, or I enjoy making things harder on myself.
September 28, 2012
The Day I Grew Balls
It's performance review time at work. After living through it last year, I learned that review season is tense time around the office, and that review results are a don't-ask-don't-tell item (one of my teammates, who everyone assumed would be promoted, was not...it's a long story with shady details involving another less-than-ethical-but-higher-up teammate). In the two weeks between when the reviews are given and when the official announcement of new promotions is released, the only way to know if someone was screwed out of a promotion or raise (or just didn't deserve one) is if they suddenly find a new job and leave the company.
My review was scheduled for yesterday at 9:30 am -- kind of early, but I'm in everyday at 7:00. My bosses, however, are not. At 9:29, one of my bosses stopped by my desk to let me know that the other boss was stuck in traffic, and that my review would be 'sometime later in the day.' So much for getting it over with. The rest of my teammates got their reviews at their regularly scheduled time, and mine was moved the end (a spot generally considered unlucky where salaries and promotions are at stake). At 5:15, they finally called me in.
To make a long story short, their notes on my performance were okay, if not a little harsh. I had to remind them of the fact that I was probably a spaced-out zombie during the time I was working full time and studying...fuller time. Their response: 'Now that you say that, we have noticed a huge jump in your performance since May.' (Duh)
One of my bosses had to leave early, leaving the partner to administer the final piece of the review: the raise. He handed me a sheet of paper (taken out of a confidential envelope - really?), delivered a spiel about the standard raise this year, and asked me to sign that I officially accepted my new salary.
Maybe it was the fact that I'd waited almost eight extra hours, or the fact that the boss who left early had some surprisingly critical comments...either way - I grew balls.
I looked at the sheet for a second. "Actually," I said to the partner, "at last year's review, you said I was one month shy of qualifying for a raise, and that you'd factor it into my next year's raise. I don't see it here."
He looked at me for a second, surprised that I was seemingly rejecting my raise (or surprised that I was a staff, calling out a partner). After a few more seconds of squinting (for recollection purposes?), he finally said, "You know what? I did say that. Let me talk to the managing partner and get this adjusted."
Hiya! Bigger raise! Though I amount I fought for only works out to slightly less than $1,000 extra per year, it felt good to finally stand up for myself after a lifetime of...not standing up for myself.
So there it is, the story of the day I grew the balls to demand a higher salary (Er, remind the partner that he'd promised me the higher salary the previous year...close enough).
PS- I'm 75% sure that my teammate finally got the promotion he should have gotten last year, but like I said, I don't want to ask.
My review was scheduled for yesterday at 9:30 am -- kind of early, but I'm in everyday at 7:00. My bosses, however, are not. At 9:29, one of my bosses stopped by my desk to let me know that the other boss was stuck in traffic, and that my review would be 'sometime later in the day.' So much for getting it over with. The rest of my teammates got their reviews at their regularly scheduled time, and mine was moved the end (a spot generally considered unlucky where salaries and promotions are at stake). At 5:15, they finally called me in.
To make a long story short, their notes on my performance were okay, if not a little harsh. I had to remind them of the fact that I was probably a spaced-out zombie during the time I was working full time and studying...fuller time. Their response: 'Now that you say that, we have noticed a huge jump in your performance since May.' (Duh)
One of my bosses had to leave early, leaving the partner to administer the final piece of the review: the raise. He handed me a sheet of paper (taken out of a confidential envelope - really?), delivered a spiel about the standard raise this year, and asked me to sign that I officially accepted my new salary.
Maybe it was the fact that I'd waited almost eight extra hours, or the fact that the boss who left early had some surprisingly critical comments...either way - I grew balls.
I looked at the sheet for a second. "Actually," I said to the partner, "at last year's review, you said I was one month shy of qualifying for a raise, and that you'd factor it into my next year's raise. I don't see it here."
He looked at me for a second, surprised that I was seemingly rejecting my raise (or surprised that I was a staff, calling out a partner). After a few more seconds of squinting (for recollection purposes?), he finally said, "You know what? I did say that. Let me talk to the managing partner and get this adjusted."
Hiya! Bigger raise! Though I amount I fought for only works out to slightly less than $1,000 extra per year, it felt good to finally stand up for myself after a lifetime of...not standing up for myself.
So there it is, the story of the day I grew the balls to demand a higher salary (Er, remind the partner that he'd promised me the higher salary the previous year...close enough).
PS- I'm 75% sure that my teammate finally got the promotion he should have gotten last year, but like I said, I don't want to ask.
September 25, 2012
Sorry I Am Sorry
Tomorrow is Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement. This year I will be atoning from my cubicle because A- I'm not a member of a temple, and B- I'm hoarding my vacation days (I guess I should add hoarding vacation days to my list of things to atone for). Also, after a few rough attempts in the past, I've decided to not participate in the fast because when I do not eat, I quickly become angry/stupid/forgetful/lightheaded/unconscious, and I probably shouldn't risk any major screw ups the day before my annual salary/performance review.
In summary, I am a horrible Jew, but luckily I can erase (some of) the damage tomorrow during my mini cubicle atonement. To all better (real) Jews, go ahead and judge me. Then add 'being judgmental' to your list of things to atone for.
In summary, I am a horrible Jew, but luckily I can erase (some of) the damage tomorrow during my mini cubicle atonement. To all better (real) Jews, go ahead and judge me. Then add 'being judgmental' to your list of things to atone for.
September 16, 2012
Inspiration
I'm hoping this photo will inspire the universe to cool things down a bit because:
(1) I want to finally be able to wear the 85% of my wardrobe that I can't wear when it's 90-100 degrees, and (2) Me + heat = lazy and lethargic.
So, universe, please cool things down, so I can return to my well-dressed, energetic, productive self (let's pretend, for the sake of my argument, that I normally possess these 3 qualities).
September 12, 2012
Hermit Times
Earlier this evening, I drove through my old neighborhood while running errands. In proximity, it's not far away from where I live now, but sometimes it seems like a different universe.
My old apartment wasn't particularly nice, and other than a few pictures hanging on the walls, had almost nothing in it (roommate and I decided against buying a coffee table or kitchen table, so we ate all meals sitting on the couch with trays on our laps). My roommate and I's relationship consisted of sitting on the couch and watching TV in massive ugly sweatpants and equally oversized t-shirts or hoodies. I never felt embarrassed for looking like crap, which--let's face it--unless I put in a good amount of effort, crap is my natural state. Neither of us went out or had guests over, so I could be a crappy looking hermit in peace.
My new apartment is fully furnished and nicely decorated. With everything being as nice as it is, I'm in a constant state of worry that something will get dirty or ruined. My new roommate always looks perfect. Even when she wears sweats, they're matching pieces that actually fit. She often invites friends over to the apartment, or wants me to go out with her and her friends for wild nights.
So tonight, while I was driving, I realized that I miss being a hermit and looking like crap without feeling at all embarrassed or ashamed.
My old apartment wasn't particularly nice, and other than a few pictures hanging on the walls, had almost nothing in it (roommate and I decided against buying a coffee table or kitchen table, so we ate all meals sitting on the couch with trays on our laps). My roommate and I's relationship consisted of sitting on the couch and watching TV in massive ugly sweatpants and equally oversized t-shirts or hoodies. I never felt embarrassed for looking like crap, which--let's face it--unless I put in a good amount of effort, crap is my natural state. Neither of us went out or had guests over, so I could be a crappy looking hermit in peace.
My new apartment is fully furnished and nicely decorated. With everything being as nice as it is, I'm in a constant state of worry that something will get dirty or ruined. My new roommate always looks perfect. Even when she wears sweats, they're matching pieces that actually fit. She often invites friends over to the apartment, or wants me to go out with her and her friends for wild nights.
So tonight, while I was driving, I realized that I miss being a hermit and looking like crap without feeling at all embarrassed or ashamed.
September 6, 2012
You Can't Turn Down An Invitation You Don't Receive
At the end of a 13 hour day, I'm slumped on my bed, laptop on chest, waiting for the lullabies of Jimi Hendrix lull me to sleep. Since I'm only 97% asleep, here's what's occupying the 3% of my brain that's keeping me awake.
A certain he-who-must-not be named (not Voldemort, but close) finally decided to visit California after...forever (there's a post about the day he left, waaaay back in the blog). I was not notified of this visit. I only knew about it because my sister saw that he'd posted a Facebook status about it, and tagged the people he wanted to see (mature). Though I don't have much to say to him (well, I do, but none of it's nice), and I didn't really want to see him face to face, I wanted him to ask to see me so I could turn him down.
Is that awful of me? Eh. I think he did his fair share of awful things back in the day, and frankly, it's a moot point, because you can't turn down an invitation you don't receive. I guess he wins this round.
And now that I've (oh-so-vaguely) vented, hopefully I'll be able to sleep.
A certain he-who-must-not be named (not Voldemort, but close) finally decided to visit California after...forever (there's a post about the day he left, waaaay back in the blog). I was not notified of this visit. I only knew about it because my sister saw that he'd posted a Facebook status about it, and tagged the people he wanted to see (mature). Though I don't have much to say to him (well, I do, but none of it's nice), and I didn't really want to see him face to face, I wanted him to ask to see me so I could turn him down.
Is that awful of me? Eh. I think he did his fair share of awful things back in the day, and frankly, it's a moot point, because you can't turn down an invitation you don't receive. I guess he wins this round.
And now that I've (oh-so-vaguely) vented, hopefully I'll be able to sleep.
September 4, 2012
Goodbye My Lover
(10 points if you immediately associated this post's title with the overly-dramatic James Blunt song)
I've had a persistently upset stomach for longer than I can remember. My reaction to most medical(ish) issues is to ignore them and hope that they go away, but this stomachache isn't going anywhere. Last night, I came across an article about the existence of a correlation between carbonated drinks and stomach issues. *Lightbulb moment!* I drink ridiculous amounts of soda on a regular basis, and yet somehow I never considered the fact that consuming unhealthy amounts of air, bubbles, chemicals and sugar could be the cause of my problem. I've occasionally pushed around the idea of cutting out soda in the past, but I've never had a compelling enough reason to actually go through with it until now. I'm hoping that the lack of carbonation (and fake sugar, in the case of Coke Zero) will make me feel better, which is totally worth cutting ties with one of my all-time greatest loves in life. Goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend.
September 3, 2012
Whatever Doesn't Work
Sometimes, when I'm angry or upset about something trivial (ie. doesn't concern imminent death or homelessness), I'll try to put things in perspective by thinking about the fact that there are people in truly awful situations. However, this usually just adds a layer of guilt on top of whatever it is that I am angry or upset about. In order to prevent karma from wreaking further havoc upon my life, here's a 3/4-assed apology letter:
The Above Mentioned Shallow Idiot
Dear people of the world in truly awful situations:
I'm very sorry about whatever is happening in your life, and I hope it gets better soon. Nothing is terribly wrong with my life, yet I am sitting in my room moping about the fact that my skin looks like crap and my perpetual stomachache is preventing me from leaving the house to run errands. Take solace in the fact that one day, when awful things are actually happening in my life, I'll look back on my younger self and realize what a shallow idiot I was.
Sincerely,
August 31, 2012
Excuses
Sorry for not posting anymore. Here are my excuses.
35%: my life is boring
65%: nobody actually reads this
35%: my life is boring
65%: nobody actually reads this
August 21, 2012
Fantasy
...Real Life...
Partner/Senior Manager/Anyone Above Me: Dana, I have this really important fill-in-the-blank that needs to get done right away. Do you have time to squeeze it in?
Me: Sure, I'll stop what I'm working on and start it right now.
Partner/Senior Manager/Anyone Above Me: Dana, I have this really important fill-in-the-blank that needs to get done right away. Do you have time to squeeze it in?
Me: Sure, I'll stop what I'm working on and start it right now.
...My Fantasy...
Partner/Senior Manager/Anyone Above Me: Dana, I have this really important fill-in-the-blank that needs to get done right away. Do you have time to squeeze it in?
Me: Nope. Do it yourself.
August 10, 2012
The Know-Nothing Party
Warning: I'm about to attempt to recall information from my high school AP U.S. History Class. I took this class seven years ago....
During the civil war (or maybe a different war...I don't remember), there was a political party called the Know-Nothing Party. Basically, whenever a member of this party was questioned by officials about their knowledge of any war-related information, they would claim that they didn't know anything about it (the kicker: they did!)
Turns out, the Know-Nothing party still exists at work, though not intentionally. It also turns out that I am the only member of this party.
I am writing this post while taking a break from power cleaning my room. Why? Because my mom is coming into town to be my +1 for a Norah Jones concert (the tickets were free from work) and spending the night. Coincidentally, the Norah Jones tickets are what clued me in to the fact that I know nothing.
Confused? You should be. Anyway, like I said, the concert tickets are free because a bunch of people form my office are going together. Back in May, when we were asked how many tickets we wanted, my teammate reserved two: one for him and one for his wife. This past week, when we got the email to go pick up our tickets, that teammate said he didn't think he was going to go to the concert after all. "Oh, come on!" I said excitedly, "Let's go get our tickets! You can't tell me that Sarah [his wife] doesn't want to go."
Awkward snickers.
Later, while we were driving to the Sony lot for fieldwork, my teammate casually mentioned that he and his wife (Sarah) has separated a few months ago, and the snickers were because nobody realized that I didn't know about it until I put my over-enthusiastic foot in my mouth. Oops.
The next day, I found out that my other teammate's wife is having a baby next month when another teammate suggested a Vegas trip the weekend of her due date and dad-to-be jokingly said "Let's Go!" I didn't realize he was joking, because I knew nothing about said baby. Everyone else had known for months.
So, either I have an invisible sign on my forehead that says "Don't Tell Me Anything!" or I am leaving the modern revival of the Know-Nothing Party.
During the civil war (or maybe a different war...I don't remember), there was a political party called the Know-Nothing Party. Basically, whenever a member of this party was questioned by officials about their knowledge of any war-related information, they would claim that they didn't know anything about it (the kicker: they did!)
Turns out, the Know-Nothing party still exists at work, though not intentionally. It also turns out that I am the only member of this party.
I am writing this post while taking a break from power cleaning my room. Why? Because my mom is coming into town to be my +1 for a Norah Jones concert (the tickets were free from work) and spending the night. Coincidentally, the Norah Jones tickets are what clued me in to the fact that I know nothing.
Confused? You should be. Anyway, like I said, the concert tickets are free because a bunch of people form my office are going together. Back in May, when we were asked how many tickets we wanted, my teammate reserved two: one for him and one for his wife. This past week, when we got the email to go pick up our tickets, that teammate said he didn't think he was going to go to the concert after all. "Oh, come on!" I said excitedly, "Let's go get our tickets! You can't tell me that Sarah [his wife] doesn't want to go."
Awkward snickers.
Later, while we were driving to the Sony lot for fieldwork, my teammate casually mentioned that he and his wife (Sarah) has separated a few months ago, and the snickers were because nobody realized that I didn't know about it until I put my over-enthusiastic foot in my mouth. Oops.
The next day, I found out that my other teammate's wife is having a baby next month when another teammate suggested a Vegas trip the weekend of her due date and dad-to-be jokingly said "Let's Go!" I didn't realize he was joking, because I knew nothing about said baby. Everyone else had known for months.
So, either I have an invisible sign on my forehead that says "Don't Tell Me Anything!" or I am leaving the modern revival of the Know-Nothing Party.
August 3, 2012
Triple Stuff
1) This is the unfortunate state of my back bumper. Here's what happened: I came home from work, ate dinner, went out for a walk, and about 30 minutes later got a call from my roommate that started off "Don't be mad, but--" Apparently she and a friend were switching our cars and her friend did not mind the cement beam next to our spot. I'm not sure when I'll have time to get it fixed, but I should probably do it sooner than later. Sorry Jud (Jud = name of my poor injured car)
2) Okay, so item 1 was more of a story, but one is a revelation I had earlier in the week: the relationship between age and maturity is not the same for all people. I tend to expect that anyone older than I am will be more mature, though this theory has proven to be untrue multiple times. I was expressing my thoughts on the matter to a friend on Monday, and mid-rant, she stopped me to pose the question: "Why would you assume that everyone starts off at the same level of maturity and matures at the same rate over time? Some people are always mature, and others never mature." Hmm. Very true. I wish I'd thought about that sooner, because I've wasted too much time worrying about my own future based on older people I know whose lives aren't together. Now that I think about it, every one of these people that cause me to worry are less mature than I am now (and hopefully I'll be more mature than I am now by the time I'm their age). So, even though nothing has changed, I feel better.
3) As of yesterday at 4pm, I'm headed back to Sony next week, probably for the entire week. Hmm...
July 30, 2012
I Don't Recall...
Today, my work calendar informed me that tomorrow is the last day of July, meaning this year is well beyond half way over. First of all, kind of sad that my calendar has to remind me what day (/month.../year) it is, but also, August? Really?
I'm currently racking my brain trying to think of what I've done in the last seven months, and sadly, not much stands out (Sasquatch, and.....laundry?).
As a working person, it's easy to fall into the rut of: work yourself into the ground all week, and spend the weekend running all the errands you were too tired to run during the week, but otherwise being lazy and doing nothing to compensate for the exhausting workweek/prepare for the upcoming week. Unfortunately, this living pattern doesn't produce any sort of memorable events, which is why I can't put my finger on what I've been doing all year.
My hope for the final 5 months of the year (and probably the rest of myroaring...awkward...20s), is to incorporate a few activities into my weekends that I'll actually remember when I look back on the year.
I'm currently racking my brain trying to think of what I've done in the last seven months, and sadly, not much stands out (Sasquatch, and.....laundry?).
As a working person, it's easy to fall into the rut of: work yourself into the ground all week, and spend the weekend running all the errands you were too tired to run during the week, but otherwise being lazy and doing nothing to compensate for the exhausting workweek/prepare for the upcoming week. Unfortunately, this living pattern doesn't produce any sort of memorable events, which is why I can't put my finger on what I've been doing all year.
My hope for the final 5 months of the year (and probably the rest of my
July 28, 2012
Lying About My Buns
Last week, one of our summer interns made the observation that I wear my hear in a bun fairly often.
"It's a habit," I explained. "I used to be a dancer."
"Oooh," the intern said. "That makes sense." The other interns nodded in agreement.
Okay, so it's not a lie that I used to be a dancer, but using that as my reason for wearing my hear in a bun all the time is complete crap. The real reasons are:
a) I only give myself 20 minutes to get ready for work, and my hear is the last thing on my to-do
list. Usually at minute 19.5, I realize that my hear is still slopped on top of my head. Bun it is!
b) I'm way too lazy to have hair this long, but I'm also way too lazy to cut it. Bun it is!
c) I sleep on my hair wet probably 3 or 4 nights a week. What it will look like in the morning is a
total crapshoot. Bun it is!
"It's a habit," I explained. "I used to be a dancer."
"Oooh," the intern said. "That makes sense." The other interns nodded in agreement.
Okay, so it's not a lie that I used to be a dancer, but using that as my reason for wearing my hear in a bun all the time is complete crap. The real reasons are:
a) I only give myself 20 minutes to get ready for work, and my hear is the last thing on my to-do
list. Usually at minute 19.5, I realize that my hear is still slopped on top of my head. Bun it is!
b) I'm way too lazy to have hair this long, but I'm also way too lazy to cut it. Bun it is!
c) I sleep on my hair wet probably 3 or 4 nights a week. What it will look like in the morning is a
total crapshoot. Bun it is!
July 25, 2012
The Honeymoon
I've been working on a studio lot all week (apparently this company thinks their materials are particularly confidential - ha!). My coworker and I have been donning our snazziest power suits and spending most of the day in our little glass conference room that is reserved for only us. I was so excited to be working from not-my-office, but after three days, I think the honeymoon is over.
Day 1: What a novelty! Sound stages, celebrities in the commissary, Yogurtland, and my employee badge lets me get discounts at the company store (so, if anyone wants any DVDs, merchandise, or electronics, I have an in until I have to give my badge back). I barely noticed the lack of mobility in my arms thanks to my suit jacket.
Day 2: Still a bit of a novelty, but more work and not many opportunities to take breaks (and yet still falling behind on our deadline). This lot seems a lot like a college campus (lots of bikes, random events, people on tours, and people sitting outside doing nothing (jealous!)). My suit jacket is becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
Day 3: My coworker and I are killing ourselves to meet the deadline our manager has set. Everyone else on the lot seems to be sitting around doing I-don't-know-what. People are staring at us like zoo animals through the glass conference room wall. My suit jacket is pissing me off.
So that was my 3-day honeymoon. Tomorrow, I get to go back to my regular old desk, and I couldn't be happier. I might even kiss it (second thought...I can't remember the last time I wiped it off).
Day 1: What a novelty! Sound stages, celebrities in the commissary, Yogurtland, and my employee badge lets me get discounts at the company store (so, if anyone wants any DVDs, merchandise, or electronics, I have an in until I have to give my badge back). I barely noticed the lack of mobility in my arms thanks to my suit jacket.
Day 2: Still a bit of a novelty, but more work and not many opportunities to take breaks (and yet still falling behind on our deadline). This lot seems a lot like a college campus (lots of bikes, random events, people on tours, and people sitting outside doing nothing (jealous!)). My suit jacket is becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
Day 3: My coworker and I are killing ourselves to meet the deadline our manager has set. Everyone else on the lot seems to be sitting around doing I-don't-know-what. People are staring at us like zoo animals through the glass conference room wall. My suit jacket is pissing me off.
So that was my 3-day honeymoon. Tomorrow, I get to go back to my regular old desk, and I couldn't be happier. I might even kiss it (second thought...I can't remember the last time I wiped it off).
July 13, 2012
What Goes Around Comes Around - for $7
Funny story of the day:
As today was my first Friday off in a while, I had a huge list of errands to get through. And, though I slept in until 7 this morning (that is me poking fun at my absolute inability to sleep in), I hit the ground running as soon as the places I needed to go opened.
By lunch time, I was done. As a reward, I decided to walk to the delicious frozen yogurt shop a few blocks from my apartment. And it was....delicious. On the way home, I walked past the Goodwill store. Since I had nothing better to do (and was in somewhat of a post-frozen yogurt euphoria), I went in to see if there were any accessories to put on the new coffee table (one of the morning's errands was waiting for the delivery men). The accessories weren't great, so I ventured to the clothing section. When I reached the jeans rack, a little voice in my head (not schizophrenia, thank-you-very-much) said 'you should look thoroughly. This is a decent neighborhood, and people probably give away nice pairs of jeans to make room for newer, nicer ones.' About 15 seconds into my search, I spotted a lovely pair of Citizens of Humanity jeans in my size.
I was a junior in high school, and the premium/designer denim craze had recently hit. After ordering three pairs of Seven for All Mankind (remember those?) jeans on ebay, I needed more. My mom and I headed to Nordstrom (with gift cards, of course), and I picked out a lovely pair of Citizens of Humanity jeans (the ones with the cursive 'h' on the butt). I decided to wear them to school the next day. My last class of the day was advanced dance, so everyday I'd change out of my regular clothes and into dance clothes. I usually left my clothes and all my stuff in the changing room during class and grabbed it on my way out (I was usually too sweaty to change back into nice clothes, so I'd keep my dance clothes on to drive home from school). But that day in particular, I stayed well after the final bell to keep rehearsing a piece that wasn't finished. About two hours after school, I finally came back into the changing room to get my stuff. No jeans.
To this day, I'm not sure if they were stolen, if I left them at school, or if they were stolen because I left them for too long, but I never found them. And I was way too cheap to buy a new pair (at $100+ a pop).
Flash Forward to today
As soon as I saw the jeans, I knew that I couldn't not get them. After 7 years, we were reunited.
And the price? $7. I feel avenged, AND my butt looks good (mom's words, not mine)
As today was my first Friday off in a while, I had a huge list of errands to get through. And, though I slept in until 7 this morning (that is me poking fun at my absolute inability to sleep in), I hit the ground running as soon as the places I needed to go opened.
By lunch time, I was done. As a reward, I decided to walk to the delicious frozen yogurt shop a few blocks from my apartment. And it was....delicious. On the way home, I walked past the Goodwill store. Since I had nothing better to do (and was in somewhat of a post-frozen yogurt euphoria), I went in to see if there were any accessories to put on the new coffee table (one of the morning's errands was waiting for the delivery men). The accessories weren't great, so I ventured to the clothing section. When I reached the jeans rack, a little voice in my head (not schizophrenia, thank-you-very-much) said 'you should look thoroughly. This is a decent neighborhood, and people probably give away nice pairs of jeans to make room for newer, nicer ones.' About 15 seconds into my search, I spotted a lovely pair of Citizens of Humanity jeans in my size.
Flashback to 2005.....
I was a junior in high school, and the premium/designer denim craze had recently hit. After ordering three pairs of Seven for All Mankind (remember those?) jeans on ebay, I needed more. My mom and I headed to Nordstrom (with gift cards, of course), and I picked out a lovely pair of Citizens of Humanity jeans (the ones with the cursive 'h' on the butt). I decided to wear them to school the next day. My last class of the day was advanced dance, so everyday I'd change out of my regular clothes and into dance clothes. I usually left my clothes and all my stuff in the changing room during class and grabbed it on my way out (I was usually too sweaty to change back into nice clothes, so I'd keep my dance clothes on to drive home from school). But that day in particular, I stayed well after the final bell to keep rehearsing a piece that wasn't finished. About two hours after school, I finally came back into the changing room to get my stuff. No jeans.
To this day, I'm not sure if they were stolen, if I left them at school, or if they were stolen because I left them for too long, but I never found them. And I was way too cheap to buy a new pair (at $100+ a pop).
Flash Forward to today
As soon as I saw the jeans, I knew that I couldn't not get them. After 7 years, we were reunited.
And the price? $7. I feel avenged, AND my butt looks good (mom's words, not mine)
 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| THESE jeans! But why is the model standing at such an extreme angle? |
July 12, 2012
"You Look Tired"
If I had a dollar for every time a coworker said that to me this week, I'd be taking myself out for a fancy dinner this weekend. But I don't, so I'll probably be eating cereal or something.
Even if I only look half as tired as I've felt lately, I can see how people might feel the need to comment. I blame the deadly combo of post-move settling (dealing with all those stupid details such as transferring accounts and keeping track of which bills are going to which apartment), and it being the week after a holiday (transitioning from 8 hour workdays back to 10).
So tonight, after a wild night of Thursday-partying (ie. cleaning the kitchen, putting dishes away, vacuuming the apartment and finally doing the load of laundry that's been glaring at me all week), I've decided that my mid-year resolution should be to get more sleep...But also, I don't really mind cleaning/vacuuming/laundry because it means that I actually have some free time at my discretion.
So, that makes two mid-year resolutions:
1. Get more sleep
2. Find more pockets of free-time (and/or add more hours to the day)
Even if I only look half as tired as I've felt lately, I can see how people might feel the need to comment. I blame the deadly combo of post-move settling (dealing with all those stupid details such as transferring accounts and keeping track of which bills are going to which apartment), and it being the week after a holiday (transitioning from 8 hour workdays back to 10).
So tonight, after a wild night of Thursday-partying (ie. cleaning the kitchen, putting dishes away, vacuuming the apartment and finally doing the load of laundry that's been glaring at me all week), I've decided that my mid-year resolution should be to get more sleep...But also, I don't really mind cleaning/vacuuming/laundry because it means that I actually have some free time at my discretion.
So, that makes two mid-year resolutions:
1. Get more sleep
2. Find more pockets of free-time (and/or add more hours to the day)
July 8, 2012
July 7, 2012
Rome Wasn't Built in a Day
...And neither was a perfect apartment. During my blogging absence (thanks to not having internet), I've been packing, moving, unpacking, decorating and gardening up a storm. Photos to come.
June 28, 2012
...And the 'Not-A-Team-Player' Award goes to...
I used to play a lot of team sports when I was younger. I distinctly remember in elementary school, while learning about the processes and functions of the body, thinking to myself, "this seems a lot like teamwork."
Maybe it's because I stopped playing team sports, but I've noticed in my old age that the team isn't working together like it used to. I'd like to officially announce my team's non-MVP: my digestive system. When faced with any level or stress or adversity, my digestive system is always the first one to throw in the towel and scream "Fuck this shit - I'm outta here!"
This likely explains why oatmeal was the only solid food I could eat for the two weeks leading up to my first CPA exam. And this week, probably because of my upcoming move, every meal has been followed by and hour or two (or all night) of wondering when my digestive system is going to stop bitching and do its job.
So please, do your job.
Maybe it's because I stopped playing team sports, but I've noticed in my old age that the team isn't working together like it used to. I'd like to officially announce my team's non-MVP: my digestive system. When faced with any level or stress or adversity, my digestive system is always the first one to throw in the towel and scream "Fuck this shit - I'm outta here!"
This likely explains why oatmeal was the only solid food I could eat for the two weeks leading up to my first CPA exam. And this week, probably because of my upcoming move, every meal has been followed by and hour or two (or all night) of wondering when my digestive system is going to stop bitching and do its job.
So please, do your job.
June 25, 2012
Change is Gonna Come
One Saturday afternoon during college, I was volunteering at an event (the details are unimportant), when the very wise man in charge said to all the volunteers "The only thing in life that is constant is change." So simple, yet I'd never thought of it before.
Though armed with his worldly advice, I still struggle with the application of the principle. Change scares me, even when I know the outcome will be an improvement over the current situation. And of course, since I am me, I think of what could potentially go wrong in every possible scenario, which never helps (when will I learn?).
I start moving into my new apartment on Friday. Saying goodbye to the only apartment I've lived in in LA will be weird. Remembering to drive to my new place instead of the old one will take a conscious effort, especially at the end of a long work day when I'm usually in auto-pilot.
Though armed with his worldly advice, I still struggle with the application of the principle. Change scares me, even when I know the outcome will be an improvement over the current situation. And of course, since I am me, I think of what could potentially go wrong in every possible scenario, which never helps (when will I learn?).
I start moving into my new apartment on Friday. Saying goodbye to the only apartment I've lived in in LA will be weird. Remembering to drive to my new place instead of the old one will take a conscious effort, especially at the end of a long work day when I'm usually in auto-pilot.
June 19, 2012
Age is but a number
Today, I attended a meeting full of auditors and lawyers. We were all wearing black suits.
For lunch, we ordered Chinese food. While opening our fortune cookies, the woman leading the meeting yelled out, "all fortunes are better if you add the words 'in bed' to the end."
So the auditors and lawyers proceeded to read their fortunes aloud accordingly.
And somehow, in that moment, I forgot that I was probably a good decade younger than anyone else at the meeting.
For lunch, we ordered Chinese food. While opening our fortune cookies, the woman leading the meeting yelled out, "all fortunes are better if you add the words 'in bed' to the end."
So the auditors and lawyers proceeded to read their fortunes aloud accordingly.
And somehow, in that moment, I forgot that I was probably a good decade younger than anyone else at the meeting.
June 15, 2012
Greetings from 1878!
This is going to be long, because it's been a while and I have a lot to vent say.
I know, you're dying to know - was 1878 a completely arbitrary year that I pulled out of my ass? Please! I think everything to death! 1878 just so happens to be the year before the electric light bulb was invented, and lights are something I've been without for a few days.
What? You're shocked and appalled that I didn't blog about this sooner? Well, I didn't have internet either (other than on my Blackberry, which barely counts...In fact, it's probably the same model Blackberry they used in 1878). On the subject of my Blackberry, it's starting to arbitrarily shut off, so it might be on it's last legs.
And on the subject of last legs, my cat Smokey died on Tuesday. We were kind of expecting it - she was 17 years old after all - but it's still sad to lose the pet you've had since you were six years old. (Side note: Last weekend, while my family was spending some TLC with the cat, I started to compose a post about preparing to say goodbye to a pet- then got sidetracked, it went into drafts, and now that she's actually dead it seems weird to post it. So I won't). Instead, here is a photo tribute to the original scaredy cat (she spent most of her life hiding in the fireplace. Hence the name Smokey).
Needless to say, this has been quite a week. I am officially living alone now, and I suspect my roommate, in the process of moving out and tying up his own affairs, did everything in his power to completely fuck me over (okay, it was more stupidity than malice, but still frustrating).
On Monday, he disconnected our cable box (and internet), but figured it would keep working for a few days. Wrong. So we were without internet or television. Tuesday night, he and I finally got around to switching the power and utilities into my name (while sitting in a Starbucks, stealing their Wifi). Unfortunately, new accounts take two business days to process. Roommate assured me that the electricity and gas wouldn't go off right away. Wrong again. I came home from work with no electricity, no gas (and still no internet or TV). I tried to call the electric company, but was put on hold for so long that my phone, which I couldn't charge without electricity, was about to die and had to hang up.
During all this chaos, various Craigslist strangers were traipsing through my apartment, which, as of now, is a big empty rectangle. Weirdo after weirdo came to the place, and I was starting to dread the idea of signing a 1 year lease with some weirdo I could barely tolerate, and having another awkward, anti-social year.
Finally, when all was almost lost, a nice, normal girl came to look. I showed her around, we talked for a while, and realized that we hit it off really well. The problem is, she didn't want to live in my apartment. In fact, she pretty much refused. "There are tons of two bedroom apartments around here. Why don't the two of us find another place?" she suggested.
What? No! As a quasi-hermit, her suggestion seemed appalling. Then the electricity went out. Over the course of my lonely, lantern-lit evening, I though more about moving and realized that a change of scenery might be just what I need right now. This apartment has been my skin for the last year, which, if you haven't already figured out on your own, has been a stressful/tiring/lonely and overall weird year. Like the snake that I am, it's time to shed my skin and move on.
Future roommate called me the next night, and we struck a deal: I would be willing to move if she found a good-sized, reasonably-priced place and I could stay in my current apartment for an extra week (since I hadn't given my landlord 30 days notice, I'd have to pay through mid-July). Throughout the work day, she emailed me pictures of apartments. After work, she and I met at our favorite place and filled out paperwork. So now, given that all goes well with the credit check, I'm moving into a lovely new apartment in three weeks!
What a week. Death, "time travel", and a new apartment. Though I'm relieved that things are finally looking up, this has been way too much excitement for one week.
I know, you're dying to know - was 1878 a completely arbitrary year that I pulled out of my ass? Please! I think everything to death! 1878 just so happens to be the year before the electric light bulb was invented, and lights are something I've been without for a few days.
What? You're shocked and appalled that I didn't blog about this sooner? Well, I didn't have internet either (other than on my Blackberry, which barely counts...In fact, it's probably the same model Blackberry they used in 1878). On the subject of my Blackberry, it's starting to arbitrarily shut off, so it might be on it's last legs.
And on the subject of last legs, my cat Smokey died on Tuesday. We were kind of expecting it - she was 17 years old after all - but it's still sad to lose the pet you've had since you were six years old. (Side note: Last weekend, while my family was spending some TLC with the cat, I started to compose a post about preparing to say goodbye to a pet- then got sidetracked, it went into drafts, and now that she's actually dead it seems weird to post it. So I won't). Instead, here is a photo tribute to the original scaredy cat (she spent most of her life hiding in the fireplace. Hence the name Smokey).
 |
| Baby kitty! (notice the date/my outfit - 1995!) |
 | |
| Sultry middle-aged Smokey, guarding my dad's guitar. Check out those eyes. |
Needless to say, this has been quite a week. I am officially living alone now, and I suspect my roommate, in the process of moving out and tying up his own affairs, did everything in his power to completely fuck me over (okay, it was more stupidity than malice, but still frustrating).
On Monday, he disconnected our cable box (and internet), but figured it would keep working for a few days. Wrong. So we were without internet or television. Tuesday night, he and I finally got around to switching the power and utilities into my name (while sitting in a Starbucks, stealing their Wifi). Unfortunately, new accounts take two business days to process. Roommate assured me that the electricity and gas wouldn't go off right away. Wrong again. I came home from work with no electricity, no gas (and still no internet or TV). I tried to call the electric company, but was put on hold for so long that my phone, which I couldn't charge without electricity, was about to die and had to hang up.
During all this chaos, various Craigslist strangers were traipsing through my apartment, which, as of now, is a big empty rectangle. Weirdo after weirdo came to the place, and I was starting to dread the idea of signing a 1 year lease with some weirdo I could barely tolerate, and having another awkward, anti-social year.
Finally, when all was almost lost, a nice, normal girl came to look. I showed her around, we talked for a while, and realized that we hit it off really well. The problem is, she didn't want to live in my apartment. In fact, she pretty much refused. "There are tons of two bedroom apartments around here. Why don't the two of us find another place?" she suggested.
What? No! As a quasi-hermit, her suggestion seemed appalling. Then the electricity went out. Over the course of my lonely, lantern-lit evening, I though more about moving and realized that a change of scenery might be just what I need right now. This apartment has been my skin for the last year, which, if you haven't already figured out on your own, has been a stressful/tiring/lonely and overall weird year. Like the snake that I am, it's time to shed my skin and move on.
Future roommate called me the next night, and we struck a deal: I would be willing to move if she found a good-sized, reasonably-priced place and I could stay in my current apartment for an extra week (since I hadn't given my landlord 30 days notice, I'd have to pay through mid-July). Throughout the work day, she emailed me pictures of apartments. After work, she and I met at our favorite place and filled out paperwork. So now, given that all goes well with the credit check, I'm moving into a lovely new apartment in three weeks!
What a week. Death, "time travel", and a new apartment. Though I'm relieved that things are finally looking up, this has been way too much excitement for one week.
June 8, 2012
Online Dating?
I haven't tried it, but I've heard quite a few complaints from people who have. Finding a roommate via Craigslist is starting to feel like a bad online dating situation. Features include:
Also, even though I specified in my ad that I am a female, at least 90% of the responses I've received have been from men. They're probably serial killers.
- Messages with exceptionally bad grammar/spelling
- Awkward phone number exchanges, often accompanied by the suggestion of a pre meet-up phone conversation (note: I am somewhat terrified of talking on the phone with people I don't know and try to avoid it whenever possible)
- Flakes - people either stop responding to your emails without warning, or don't show up to see the apartment at the mutually agreed-upon time
- Talking about living together with someone who is essentially a stranger
Also, even though I specified in my ad that I am a female, at least 90% of the responses I've received have been from men. They're probably serial killers.
The Narcisist's Dilemna
Word of me passing my CPA exams is working its way around the office, which is funny, because I've all but forgotten about it. Today, the perpetually chipper guy who works in the mail room (and will talk to you for hours if you don't eventually give him the hint that you need to get some work done) approached me in the copy room to offer his congratulations. "You must be the happiest person in the whole world!" he cooed. I smiled and thanked him and headed back to my cube. Thinking about what he'd said, I couldn't help but think what's wrong with me?
The sad truth is, I'm not much happier than I was before. I'm less stressed and anxious, but my general level of happiness is about the same. I tried to warn myself that life would not be sparkly rainbows once I was a CPA, but the part of me that has been deliriously removed from reality these past few months wasn't listening. The harsh reality is that being more accomplished (on paper) doesn't change anything but a line your resume.
Last night, for lack of anything better to do, I looked at slow-cooker recipes on the internet (I was looking at another website that lead me to the recipes). Most recipes call to be cooked on high for 4-6 hours or low for 6-8 hours. Between the time I leave my house in the morning to when I get back is usually closer to 12 hours. No slow-cooking for me. And no regular cooking either - by the end of the day, I'm just too tired.
Tonight, I spent the evening petting the family dog (I'm home for the weekend), and realized how much I miss being around animals. I often joke that I'd kill any pet because I'm not home enough hours to take care of it. It's a joke, but also not a joke. No pets for me until I have a bigger place and someone else to co-parent.
So, to make a long story short, what's wrong with me? I go to work all day, and come home to a quiet empty apartment and a few hours to kill before bed. So what do I do? Think. I am a narcissist by force, and I'm getting tired of thinking about myself because I have nothing else to think about. I need people and/or animals and/or a good meal to relieve me from the world inside my head.
The sad truth is, I'm not much happier than I was before. I'm less stressed and anxious, but my general level of happiness is about the same. I tried to warn myself that life would not be sparkly rainbows once I was a CPA, but the part of me that has been deliriously removed from reality these past few months wasn't listening. The harsh reality is that being more accomplished (on paper) doesn't change anything but a line your resume.
Last night, for lack of anything better to do, I looked at slow-cooker recipes on the internet (I was looking at another website that lead me to the recipes). Most recipes call to be cooked on high for 4-6 hours or low for 6-8 hours. Between the time I leave my house in the morning to when I get back is usually closer to 12 hours. No slow-cooking for me. And no regular cooking either - by the end of the day, I'm just too tired.
Tonight, I spent the evening petting the family dog (I'm home for the weekend), and realized how much I miss being around animals. I often joke that I'd kill any pet because I'm not home enough hours to take care of it. It's a joke, but also not a joke. No pets for me until I have a bigger place and someone else to co-parent.
So, to make a long story short, what's wrong with me? I go to work all day, and come home to a quiet empty apartment and a few hours to kill before bed. So what do I do? Think. I am a narcissist by force, and I'm getting tired of thinking about myself because I have nothing else to think about. I need people and/or animals and/or a good meal to relieve me from the world inside my head.
June 6, 2012
Je ne sais quoi
I hope you haven't been eagerly awaiting the Sasquatch post, because I've officially decided that it's not going to happen. It's been too long, and I've all but forgotten everything I wanted to write.
Plus, this week has been inexplicably exhausting. I think it's because I'm back from vacation, and as of today, I've met all the licensing requirements (happy one-year work-i-versary to me). Don't get me wrong, it's great that this is all finally over, but also, in a way, it feels weird to have nothing on the horizon. No vacations, no tests, no...anything? I feel like I'm floating down a river toward I-don't-know-what.
If anyone has any suggestions as to what I should do with my time/self/life, I'd love to hear them.
Plus, this week has been inexplicably exhausting. I think it's because I'm back from vacation, and as of today, I've met all the licensing requirements (happy one-year work-i-versary to me). Don't get me wrong, it's great that this is all finally over, but also, in a way, it feels weird to have nothing on the horizon. No vacations, no tests, no...anything? I feel like I'm floating down a river toward I-don't-know-what.
If anyone has any suggestions as to what I should do with my time/self/life, I'd love to hear them.
June 2, 2012
I know at this point it just seems like I'm making excuses
I met up with some college friends earlier this evening, and during the drive home (a little over an hour), I thought up a really great post about all the things I had promised I'd write about (music, metaphors, etc). Then, upon returning to my apartment and entering my room, I heard the sound of the toilet water running. This in itself isn't strange - my toilet water always runs unless you pull the lever up a little higher than normal. What was strange is that, for the most part, I am the only person who uses my bathroom, and I always pull the lever up. Thinking I may have simply spaced out, I walked into my bathroom to flip the lever up, and saw that my toilet seat was up.
I am a girl. I have no reason to ever put up the toilet seat. Then I remembered that my roommate's creepy friend stayed at our apartment last night. The same friend who, last time he was here, made awkward comments implying that he wouldn't be opposed to having sex with me if I was also willing (for the record: I am not).
So now I am sitting here, imagining this creepy guy I don't really know walking through my bedroom, smelling my clothes, going into my bathroom, peeing (barfing?!) all over everything, forgetting to put the toilet seat back down (way to hide your tracks, idiot), possibly stealing whatever he felt like stealing, and leaving...and/or doing other things guys do in bathrooms, which I'm trying not to think about.
Not that all of these things definitely happened, but I wasn't here, so I wouldn't know if they did.
Creepy. Weird. I can't remember what I wanted to write about music.
I am a girl. I have no reason to ever put up the toilet seat. Then I remembered that my roommate's creepy friend stayed at our apartment last night. The same friend who, last time he was here, made awkward comments implying that he wouldn't be opposed to having sex with me if I was also willing (for the record: I am not).
So now I am sitting here, imagining this creepy guy I don't really know walking through my bedroom, smelling my clothes, going into my bathroom, peeing (barfing?!) all over everything, forgetting to put the toilet seat back down (way to hide your tracks, idiot), possibly stealing whatever he felt like stealing, and leaving...and/or doing other things guys do in bathrooms, which I'm trying not to think about.
Not that all of these things definitely happened, but I wasn't here, so I wouldn't know if they did.
Creepy. Weird. I can't remember what I wanted to write about music.
May 30, 2012
Please hold while I tend to my empty soul
I can hear your collective groan and the utterance of something along the lines of "oh Dana and her overly-dramatic philosophical titles."
Quiet down, haters. I mean this one in the most literal way possible. What I an trying to say, in the least disgusting way possible, is that I emptied my soul into a toilet on Virgin America flight 780 (twice), and spent the rest of the day on the couch, mostly unable to move, feverishly sleeping on and off.
I have a lot to write about my trip (music, some music-related metaphors, and some self-realizations that occurred during the trip), but I'm going to hold off until I regenerate my soul (with water, Gatorade, Propel, etc.). Here's a photo as a teaser
Quiet down, haters. I mean this one in the most literal way possible. What I an trying to say, in the least disgusting way possible, is that I emptied my soul into a toilet on Virgin America flight 780 (twice), and spent the rest of the day on the couch, mostly unable to move, feverishly sleeping on and off.
I have a lot to write about my trip (music, some music-related metaphors, and some self-realizations that occurred during the trip), but I'm going to hold off until I regenerate my soul (with water, Gatorade, Propel, etc.). Here's a photo as a teaser
May 20, 2012
Just Say No!
Tonight I feel compelled to share my thoughts on flaky people. Why? Because I structured my entire weekend around visits from potential new roommates who were coming to check out my apartment. The problem is, only one of them showed up. Another cancelled the night before, and a third texted me an hour before she was supposed to arrive saying she wouldn't be able to make it until much later, and when much later arrived, was nowhere to be found and didn't answer any of my texts. Yes, this particular instance was annoying, but the point I'm really trying to make is that flakiness has become an epidemic and we need to stop it.
I've come to the conclusion that at the root of each flaky person is a deep-seeded fear of people getting mad at them if they say no to anything, so they say yes to everything.
Here are my questions (I just want to understand you!): If you know deep down that you have no intention of following through on whatever it is you just agreed to do, why don't you just say no to begin with? Does delaying the rejection make any difference in how you feel about yourself or perceive that others will feel about you? Who are you really fooling here?
Flakes, I promise you, saying no is not that difficult (I do it all the time), and adopting this skill will actually make people like you more because you won't constantly be creating a sense of false hope only to ultimately let others down.
I've come to the conclusion that at the root of each flaky person is a deep-seeded fear of people getting mad at them if they say no to anything, so they say yes to everything.
Here are my questions (I just want to understand you!): If you know deep down that you have no intention of following through on whatever it is you just agreed to do, why don't you just say no to begin with? Does delaying the rejection make any difference in how you feel about yourself or perceive that others will feel about you? Who are you really fooling here?
Flakes, I promise you, saying no is not that difficult (I do it all the time), and adopting this skill will actually make people like you more because you won't constantly be creating a sense of false hope only to ultimately let others down.
May 18, 2012
Four score and one year ago
Exactly one year ago was a momentous day. I woke up, saw a crazy, swollen, peeling alien face staring back at me in the mirror, went to the doctor, got a shot in my butt, and spent the day drugged up with vaseline and bags of ice on my face.Oh, and I suppose I should mention that I graduated from college that evening.
It took 90 minutes of skillful makeup application to salvage my poor face (and the Oscar for best makeup artist goes to me - for my own face!) I still think I looked pretty scary close-up (think of a shedding snake), but somehow managed to get a few decent pictures.
My sister told me I would look back on this day and laugh. One year later, I'll admit I cracked a smile. Maybe next year I'll finally laugh, just because something like this would happen to me.
May 14, 2012
Retrograde
After a weekend of relaxing at home, visiting all the old haunts, and looking through pictures, I've realized that, given the chance, I'd trade in my current life to be a carefree little kid again. But, since time only runs in one direction (and often much faster than I'd prefer), this isn't going to happen. To make myself feel better, I spent today listening to this and this and wishing I wasn't at work.I've also decided on a name for what most post-college 20-somethings go through:
Life Puberty. Think of awkward body changes of regular, teenage puberty, but this time its your whole life. Just like regular puberty, you have no idea what your life will look like once Life Puberty wreaks its havoc. Hopefully, it will look better, but some aren't so lucky.
*this is actually little me, not a google image kid
May 7, 2012
Settling Soulmates
I've gone home twice in the past few weeks, spending time with my parents, and inevitably running into their friends. I've noticed that they all ask me the same question: "Do you have a boyfriend?" (and some continue with "Then are you dating anyone?"...and some feel it necessary to ask "Why not?")
I was recently informed that a friend from college is now in a relationship. When I saw her a few weeks back, her lack of excitement while telling me about the guy made me downright sad. Here they were, at the very beginning of their relationship (the honeymoon phase...aww), and she didn't seem the least bit excited. She's not attracted to him, and she doesn't like him that much. So why did she agree to be his girlfriend? Because she's lonely, he's someone to talk to, and when people ask her the question (see above), she can answer "Yes."
What scares me about my friend is that we are nearing the age where these short-term settlements could become permanent (the proposal will be something along the lines of 'we've been together such a long time, we might as well get married, I guess.' How romantic). I want to shake her by the shoulders and yell "hold out for someone better!" But, since I'm writing it here, I won't.
So, older generation that pities single people: I am not broken. I am just unwilling to settle. And I would rather answer "No" to the question and have you think I'm a loser than answer "yes" because I settled someone I don't really like.
End of rant. Here's a lovely song to make you feel better.
May 5, 2012
Feliz
Happy Cinco de Mayo. I also have something else to celebrate - I PASSED BOTH TESTS!
So I went from 50% to 100% done with these monsters in the span of...1 second. #heartattack
As my dad said, "well now you don't have to throw up your celebratory dinner from last night."
Touché. And that flashcard bonfire I've been fantasizing about - it's totally happening.
So I went from 50% to 100% done with these monsters in the span of...1 second. #heartattack
As my dad said, "well now you don't have to throw up your celebratory dinner from last night."
Touché. And that flashcard bonfire I've been fantasizing about - it's totally happening.
May 4, 2012
Limbo
I've been constantly refreshing the webpage of the CPA forum where other people post when they've gotten their scores (or that they haven't gotten them yet). I learned that California is not a part of the national score release, so we get our scores separately (ie. after everyone else). People from many states are getting scores today, just not my state.
So I guess the celebratory dinner that my parents planned for tonight will be a limbo dinner.
May 1, 2012
I'm Riding An Invisible Roller Coaster
My test scores might be released in three days (or any time between Friday and Monday). Every time I think about this fact, my stomach drops about 30,000 feet.
I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to will myself to check my scores. Maybe I'll stand next to my computer with my hands over my eyes and have someone else look at it.
Google-image woman feels my pain.
I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to will myself to check my scores. Maybe I'll stand next to my computer with my hands over my eyes and have someone else look at it.
April 26, 2012
Friend Dating
On the eve of my first real weekend, I feel a little bit like this:
Something small, standing on the edge of something big, and not quite sure how everything fits together. (i.e. girl in a city in search of things to do and people to do those things with. Not just this weekend, but a lifetime of weekends)
In college, I was lucky enough to find a solid group of friends early on. Being part of a group provided many opportunities to make new friends through my current friends.
Now that we're separated, the process of finding new friends without a friend-group already in place is annoyingly similar to dating. That's why I've dubbed it 'friend dating.' The first date is slightly awkward as the potential friends lightly tread upon various topics in search of commonalities. Unfortunately, the first date is usually when the red flags come out (not necessarily grounds for a friend break up, but perhaps a reason to start seeing other friends). My last two friend dates were red-flagged by mention of NASCAR and stagecoach (country music). If I can't even pretend to enjoy their favorite activity, things are not going to work out between us. Guess I have more friend dating to do.
Alsoo, if anybody knows a lovely potential friend who lives in LA, please set us up.
April 25, 2012
Yes (Wo)man
Let's face it, I'm not the most social person on the planet.
Sometimes I like to be alone. Sometimes I like to stay in.
And, all of the time, I like to wear my big ugly sweat pants.
But also, I miss my friends terribly, which is why I've accepted an invitation to a strange event that I know nearly nothing about. They invited me, and I agreed - no questions asked. All I have to do is purchase a sleazy American Apparel outfit and show up. Easy enough. Who knows, maybe it will be fun? And if not, I'll at least have interesting stories to tell.
Also, being alone/staying in is not conducive to live music. I had to turn down my first post-test concert invitation because it was too soon after work, too far away to get there in time, and $60. Hopefully another concert offer will come up that is less expensive and not on a Tuesday night.
Sometimes I like to be alone. Sometimes I like to stay in.
And, all of the time, I like to wear my big ugly sweat pants.
But also, I miss my friends terribly, which is why I've accepted an invitation to a strange event that I know nearly nothing about. They invited me, and I agreed - no questions asked. All I have to do is purchase a sleazy American Apparel outfit and show up. Easy enough. Who knows, maybe it will be fun? And if not, I'll at least have interesting stories to tell.
Also, being alone/staying in is not conducive to live music. I had to turn down my first post-test concert invitation because it was too soon after work, too far away to get there in time, and $60. Hopefully another concert offer will come up that is less expensive and not on a Tuesday night.
April 23, 2012
The Tradeoff
I'll admit, I often read through my old blog entries. Not because I'm an extreme narcissist, but because every time I re-read an entry I remember exactly how I was feeling when I wrote it. I revisit my ups and downs, and then I reflect on them. It's become my process of getting over things.
I've also noticed that there's a tradeoff between how well my life is going and how interesting my blog posts are. When life is good, my posts are not, and conversely, some of my best posts were written when life was...not good (like the night I got the "I-met-someone-new-and-I-like-her-better-than-I-ever-liked-you" call --> awesome post)
That being said, life is good, so I can't think of anything particularly interesting to write about tonight. Happy Monday.
I've also noticed that there's a tradeoff between how well my life is going and how interesting my blog posts are. When life is good, my posts are not, and conversely, some of my best posts were written when life was...not good (like the night I got the "I-met-someone-new-and-I-like-her-better-than-I-ever-liked-you" call --> awesome post)
That being said, life is good, so I can't think of anything particularly interesting to write about tonight. Happy Monday.
April 19, 2012
Alive and Well
For those of you who were concerned by my lack of blogging (I'm going to assume you exist), don't worry, I'm still alive. And well. My test is over, and until I get my scores (May 4), I can be blissfully ignorant and pretend I'm done for real.
As I explained to a friend, walking out of the testing center after the last test felt like the scene in the movie Shawshank Redemption when Morgan Freeman is finally released from prison after decades in captivity. ("So you're going to kill yourself now?" my friend asked. No, and perhaps that wasn't such a good example.) What I meant to emphasize was the feeling of being free for the first time in a long time, and having no clue what to do with it. I'll learn, I'm sure.
Last week, I decided to schedule the rest of the week off work and go home, and it's probably the smartest anticipatory decision I've ever made. Until I return to LA on Sunday, I'm catching up on sleep, home-cooked food, and bringing the part of my brain that experiences joy and happiness out of its dormant state. Lots of biking, dancing, and perhaps swimming. No stress.
Even shoulder devil has been on my side the last few days. Every time I start to feel a little guilty for missing work and doing nothing, he quips back "Shut up - you deserve this." Okay, shoulder devil, if you insist.
As I explained to a friend, walking out of the testing center after the last test felt like the scene in the movie Shawshank Redemption when Morgan Freeman is finally released from prison after decades in captivity. ("So you're going to kill yourself now?" my friend asked. No, and perhaps that wasn't such a good example.) What I meant to emphasize was the feeling of being free for the first time in a long time, and having no clue what to do with it. I'll learn, I'm sure.
Last week, I decided to schedule the rest of the week off work and go home, and it's probably the smartest anticipatory decision I've ever made. Until I return to LA on Sunday, I'm catching up on sleep, home-cooked food, and bringing the part of my brain that experiences joy and happiness out of its dormant state. Lots of biking, dancing, and perhaps swimming. No stress.
Even shoulder devil has been on my side the last few days. Every time I start to feel a little guilty for missing work and doing nothing, he quips back "Shut up - you deserve this." Okay, shoulder devil, if you insist.
April 13, 2012
Finding Worth in the Worthless
Isn't it interesting when something you've written off as worthless finally proves its worth?
I've always been hard on myself for my inability to live in the present. My mental time machine flits between the past and the future, occasionally making a stop in the present to make sure everything is copasetic, but never staying for long. I guess you could say my mind is the husband that's always traveling for work, leaving my body in the present time to fend for itself.
But today, as I was attempting to nap between study sessions (yeah right), I realized that my tendency to transport myself to other times and places is the thing that has kept me sane for the last six months.
And that's definitely worth something.
"Time machine, take me back to that rainy day last winter - the one with the warm fireplace and fleece blankets and hot chocolate. Aah, wonderful. This is the place."
I've always been hard on myself for my inability to live in the present. My mental time machine flits between the past and the future, occasionally making a stop in the present to make sure everything is copasetic, but never staying for long. I guess you could say my mind is the husband that's always traveling for work, leaving my body in the present time to fend for itself.
But today, as I was attempting to nap between study sessions (yeah right), I realized that my tendency to transport myself to other times and places is the thing that has kept me sane for the last six months.
And that's definitely worth something.
"Time machine, take me back to that rainy day last winter - the one with the warm fireplace and fleece blankets and hot chocolate. Aah, wonderful. This is the place."
April 12, 2012
Being a Grownup
One of the things I was most excited about when I accepted the job at my firm was the ability to accrue three weeks paid vacation per year. Three weeks! I pictured myself galavanting through Europe in three-week increments each year.
But the reality of vacation days (and part of being a grownup) is that these days are mostly used for un-fun things. For example, I am not at work today. Whoo, vacation.....right? Nope, it's a study day. In fact, every vacation day I've used since starting my job has been used for studying, sickness, or car accidents.
The same goes for my coworkers. The various "vacations" my teammates have taken in the last few weeks were used to get cars repaired, stay home to take care of sick spouses, and get dental work done (other than the partner, who actually was galavanting around Europe).
So, the moral of today's story is that when you're a grownup, vacation days often aren't used for vacations - unless you're a partner (but, given all the stress/liability/responsibility that comes with that job, I'll pass).
On the bright side, at least I can take days off to do un-fun things and still get paid my full salary.
But the reality of vacation days (and part of being a grownup) is that these days are mostly used for un-fun things. For example, I am not at work today. Whoo, vacation.....right? Nope, it's a study day. In fact, every vacation day I've used since starting my job has been used for studying, sickness, or car accidents.
The same goes for my coworkers. The various "vacations" my teammates have taken in the last few weeks were used to get cars repaired, stay home to take care of sick spouses, and get dental work done (other than the partner, who actually was galavanting around Europe).
So, the moral of today's story is that when you're a grownup, vacation days often aren't used for vacations - unless you're a partner (but, given all the stress/liability/responsibility that comes with that job, I'll pass).
On the bright side, at least I can take days off to do un-fun things and still get paid my full salary.
April 9, 2012
New Paradigm: The Reluctant Marathoner
Stand at the finish line of any marathon and you will observe many types of runners. Here are the two extremes of the spectrum:
1. The marathoners who cross the finish line with ease; barely sweating, huge smiles on their faces, and usually keep jogging a little ways past the finish line because, whatever, it was only a marathon.
2. The reluctant marathoners who hobble across the finish line looking like death; sweating like pigs, muttering every curse word ever invented, and swearing that they will never run again after this stupid marathon is over.
But guess what? If a runner of either type completes the 26.2 mile course, they can both claim to have successfully completed the marathon. The end result is the same.
So, with 8 days left, I've decided to stop wasting so much energy being angry at myself for not being thrilled about my current state of life. (Not to be a martyr, but what sane human would be happy working 12 hour days and studying at night during the week, then studying 15 hours per day on weekends?) So, I don't have to enjoy running this stupid marathon, I just have to finish it.
I feel liberated.
1. The marathoners who cross the finish line with ease; barely sweating, huge smiles on their faces, and usually keep jogging a little ways past the finish line because, whatever, it was only a marathon.
2. The reluctant marathoners who hobble across the finish line looking like death; sweating like pigs, muttering every curse word ever invented, and swearing that they will never run again after this stupid marathon is over.
But guess what? If a runner of either type completes the 26.2 mile course, they can both claim to have successfully completed the marathon. The end result is the same.
So, with 8 days left, I've decided to stop wasting so much energy being angry at myself for not being thrilled about my current state of life. (Not to be a martyr, but what sane human would be happy working 12 hour days and studying at night during the week, then studying 15 hours per day on weekends?) So, I don't have to enjoy running this stupid marathon, I just have to finish it.
I feel liberated.
April 6, 2012
In the Spirit of Sacrifice
I decided, after a brief moment of consideration, that I won't be giving up bread for Passover this year. Go ahead, judge me.
But in the spirit of sacrifice, here's what I will be giving up this weekend:
Considering this would have been my first weekend of freedom (had I not failed that damn test), I'd like to thank the universe for kicking me in the teeth.
But in the spirit of sacrifice, here's what I will be giving up this weekend:
- Movie night
- A friend's birthday dinner
- A reunion with my best friends from high school (we've been trying to coordinate this for two years)
- Passover dinner with my family (my only living grandparent, who I don't see often enough, will be in attendance)
- My own half birthday
Considering this would have been my first weekend of freedom (had I not failed that damn test), I'd like to thank the universe for kicking me in the teeth.
April 5, 2012
Metallic Rules
We've all heard the Golden Rule (or some variation of it):
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you
Simple enough, right?
Here's a new rule to consider: the Silver Rule:
You can only expect others to treat you as well as you think you deserve to be treated.
Think about it.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you
Simple enough, right?
Here's a new rule to consider: the Silver Rule:
You can only expect others to treat you as well as you think you deserve to be treated.
Think about it.
April 4, 2012
Breaking News: Near Freudian Slip Results in New Work Rule
New Rule: No talking at work after 5 pm.
Why? Because tired people make sloppy mistakes.
I've been told that the volume of my voice increases measurably when I'm excited about something. I can't say that I disagree.
This evening, at approximately 5:20 pm, I was chatting with a coworker when the topic shifted to the subject of sweets. Sweets are probably my favorite thing....ever (chocolate sweets, in particular), so I was pretty much yelling in excitement at that point.
My plan was to say something was covered in chocolate, but my garbled, exhausted brain changed it to "chovered in co...." (do you see where this is going?). I don't think my coworker noticed what I'd almost said until I began giggling uncontrollably (because I am the most mature person on the planet). Neither of us could stop laughing for a very long time. Luckily the manager who happened to be walking by when the event occurred is the most oblivious person on the planet and had no idea what was going on. But still, I don't want this to become a trend, especially since I'm going out to see clients now (power suits and Freudian slips don't mix well).
Freud would be so proud.
Why? Because tired people make sloppy mistakes.
I've been told that the volume of my voice increases measurably when I'm excited about something. I can't say that I disagree.
This evening, at approximately 5:20 pm, I was chatting with a coworker when the topic shifted to the subject of sweets. Sweets are probably my favorite thing....ever (chocolate sweets, in particular), so I was pretty much yelling in excitement at that point.
My plan was to say something was covered in chocolate, but my garbled, exhausted brain changed it to "chovered in co...." (do you see where this is going?). I don't think my coworker noticed what I'd almost said until I began giggling uncontrollably (because I am the most mature person on the planet). Neither of us could stop laughing for a very long time. Luckily the manager who happened to be walking by when the event occurred is the most oblivious person on the planet and had no idea what was going on. But still, I don't want this to become a trend, especially since I'm going out to see clients now (power suits and Freudian slips don't mix well).
Freud would be so proud.
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