Disingenuine (a non-poem)

I have used that title for a blog post before (in 2007?) but I think it’s appropriate today.  I read that poem, and though it’s total Douch-baggery to say, I think it’s good.  It still conveys my emotions about the time, and that person really well.  This one is not a poem, but a scenario.  One that made me feel disappointed and. . .  bad.  Not angry, but bad (for lack of better word).  Also, bare with me, because I’m really tired, so quality on this isn’t going to be outstanding.

Work.  Yes, that again.  These trouble never really go away, do they?  I suppose until I finish my education and move on with my life, they never will.  I was asked to work 2 additional hours today, which I did.  And I went in early to do processor chem.  While I was doing all the washing, chemicals, and horribleness that is processor chem, my boss comes near me and says, “I left something from the clinic in your shoe.”  That was it.  No “Merry Christmas!”, no “I hope you have a happy holiday!”, no “We thought we would do something nice for all your hard work.”  The whole thing felt forced to me.  An obligation.  I got the feeling my boss saw a Christmas tid-bit as some sort of job that HAD to be done, and that she wasn’t terribly excited about–maybe even–what’s the word–not quite put-out or stressed, but something that was an effort and that she didn’t really want to do or love doing.

The gift doesn’t really matter–this post isn’t about the fact I was down-graded, no doubt because I’ve left Forster-Fridays.  It was the SPIRIT of the gift-giving I had a problem with.  I almost gave it back, but thought that would create drama, which isn’t my goal.  Getting the gift, made me feel icky, no happy or joyful or appreciative.  And that just isn’t the point, is it?  I felt like I had caused. . .  Hardship–that’s not quite right either.  I told you I’m tired.  I felt like if they didn’t have the right intentions behind the gift, then they shouldn’t have given it at all.

I had given everyone at work personalized, home-made, thoughtful gifts the last 2 years.  Because that’s who I normally am as a person.  I’m actually very thoughtful and thankful–this has just sapped all of that out of me.  All the baggage at work has made me more standoffish–and who could blame me?  The way they have treated me. . .  But this Christmas, because I did not feel the same good will and cheerful intent, I didn’t get any of them anything.  And not out of meanness, or drama, but becuase I didn’t feel it.  You should ony do nice things if your heart is actually in the right place.  I don’t wish them ill-will, but I’m fairly indifferent now, due to the past.  I think they should have done the same, if they didn’t really want to give me anything.  After all, employment is a contract.  I work, they pay me, we don’t OWE each other any more then that–certainly not Christmas cheer or presents.

I’m not going to whatever dinner they’re planning (in the same, “I have to do this” sort of spirit) in the near future.  It was announced as if it was inconveniance, but had to be done.  It was made clear spouses were NOT invited.  And no one ASKED, just informed me to pick a date that would work.  So I have no intention of partaking in that for several reasons:  1.)  It is also disingenuine.  2.)  I do not like, and do not want to spend time with anyone at work–it’s bad enough I have to deal with them AT work.  Life is too short to hang out with people out of obligation and phoniness.  3.)  I do not like going places without Cool.  4.)  I do not like going places.  Or leaving my jammies. Especially if no paycheck or grades are involved and especially, especially since it’s at night and cold outside.  5.)  I’m afraid alcohol would be involved, and I do not want to deal with that scene at all.  I’m not sure how I’m going to get out of going (maybe the idea will fizzle out all-together anyway) without looking bitchy or creating drama, but there is 0% I’m showing up to anything like that.

It’s too bad that all this negativity is occuring around and because of Christmas.  That’s not really what the season is all about.  I’m going to try to forget how sad I am about this deterioration the whole thing, and have a genuinly good time with people who truly love me for who I am–my family:  Cool and the kitties, with a call to my parents in there somewhere.  Maybe I’ll donate the gift card to someone who really needs it, because I have all these bad feelings associated with it now.

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She’s Done This a Time or Two

As you’ve heard, my program is very resistant to meeting with students.  Yet, I need 3 letters of recommendation from these same people–it’s tricky.  With one week before the end of the semester I wanted to be certain my professor knew my face before I asked for a letter of rec next year.  We were told asking in an e-mail is appropriate, and also requesting a meeting to establish a reporre is fine.  So nervously, I did both those things.  And she took 3 or 4 days to write back.  I was nervous she wanted a more formal inquisition.  Nervous she wanted to say no.  But in the response she showed a willingness–if I kept my A in her class, and if I didn’t need a letter to apply for our school’s program (NO!) because she’s the head of our department and it’s probably considered a conflict of interest.  Anyway, the tone still seemed a little hesitant about the whole thing, and she said there would be no time in the next week for a meeting.

That’s the thing about December–when you say next year or in a year–clarification needs to be made.  I think she thought I was asking for a letter before Spring semester (2014) technically “next year.”  I was impressed she would write me a letter during finals week in the first place, though I’m certain it wouldn’t have been in any way “sparkling.”  I wrote her back that I meant a year from now, next December 2014, not next year, January 2014.  And I emphasized the meeting wasn’t time-dependent, we had a whole year to do it.  I also explained it was important to me because she was in the main (crowded) classroom and I was upstairs, unable to shout out answers or establish any sort of connection with her.  I don’t just want form-letters, I want nice reviews, based on ME and my performance. Her class is one of three that strongly relates to my audiology career AND she has nice credentials (and I don’t really love the other hearing prof’s attitude) so I want one from her.  We had a good laugh over the miscommunication, and she said, “just stop by my office next semester” as a way of politely disengaging my meeting request.

Well-practiced!  She never got beligerant (this was different and good), and she didn’t say an explicit no.  She’s good!  I was left with a choice–press for a meeting that she apparently didn’t want, or take my chances and get a generic letter.  Being me, I pressed (just a little bit) and asked what days she would be in town (she travels back & forth to the primary campus), and what times work best.  We all know that “stopping by” will not be welcome or productive, if I happened upon her at all.  She sort of gave out various non-comittal days, but no times.  I left well enough alone, because you don’t want to make your letter-writers annoyed (even if you are not being unresonable or out-of-line in your request).  I don’t think asking for a 20 minute meeting in the next year is crazy, but you know my department. . .  My professor never said no to a meeting–but I don’t have one either. Tricky, tricky.

In other happenings:

When did THIS happen?  A 90% seems to be my new unacceptable?  Tht paper that I worked so hard on–the one that I searched so long on Tuesday and Wednesday to find appropriate sources for, spent ALL day Thanksgiving working on the citations, a huge piece of Friday writing it, and Saturday & Sunday morning editing.  45/50.  Hmmm.  I guess the percentage doesn’t look terrible, but the class average of 47.6 bothers me.  How was my work BELOW average?!!!  And I’m sure it will be just awful to get the paper back and see it all marked in red.  I need to forget the comparison with my classmates–who cares how they do?  It’s not relevent to my performance or my life.  But what really bothers me is the cost/benefit analysis.  I would not have poured so much time into the assignment if I knew I was going home with a medocre final grade.  Not final, final–I end the class with a 97.5%.  Which is fine–an A+ is an A+ after all.  But I feel gyped because of all those unfair test grading practices, and now the paper.  Whatever.  I guess it’s over, and can’t be changed, and I just have one more semester with this gal, and she’s not nearly as bad as “the bitch.”  I’ll just keep doing my best, and hope the grades reflect that (more).

Feeling (apparently) of this morning = disappointment.

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Focus UP!

I didn’t even want to write about this, because doing so gives it my energy, gives the problem some legitamacy, and lends credance to the issue.  My plan:  Write it down, get it out, move on.  This doctor at work, now speaks to me with the $hittiest inflection.  Very hostile and condescending and critical.  Yesterday, she cut me off mid-sentence, in essence telling me to shut the fu(k up.  I was so taken aback that an adult–a professional, no less–would conduct herself in such a manner, that I did not stand up for myself. . .

And I know she is just holding a grudge because I was super-stressed to work on her days, and my schedule (after 3 years) was finally changed.  A compromise was establishlished–I still work a portion of that day, and with that doctor-it’s just less.  But she liked my work (not necessarily me or my personality) on that day and is treating me with overt hostility as punishment.

And I know this is HER problem.  It has very little to do with me and the best thing to do is ignore it, let it roll off my back, continue working hard (like always) during my new schedule–without guilt or stress.  And I tell myself that I have dealt with MUCH worse–scapegoating by Mary once I knew too many of her secrets and hello, I was a cheerleader.  I’ve had waaay more severe bitchiness directed at me before.  And no good will come from showing any sort of reaction–whether it be an assertive comment that the treatment is inappropriate and won’t be tolerated, a phony “joke” alerting her that I realize this intentional behavior is going on and I don’t like it, or some sort of dirct confrontation *shudder*

But it’s hard.  The unfairness stays in the back of my mind.  I know I need to be the bigger person and ignore it.  I also know I could employ some sort of uncharacteristic obvious vulnerability so she can SEE I have feelings.  Cool says I come off “tough”–for lack of better word.  I seem resilaiant so people assume I can handle any amount of their BS and be fine.  I may have a hard exterior, but I’m quite soft and sensitive inside.  I practiced pouting yesterday, and it was very unnatural and humerous, indeed.  I could also be totally phony and upbeat despite the negativity from her, and make my life easier for myself.

The main things to remember:

-it’s her deal–I don’t want to play into this or be THAT person.

-this doesn’t matter to my big goals

-I do not frequently see her

-I am out of HERE in 1.5 years tops.  Hopefully, a little sooner.

-thinking about this at all pulls my mind from what’s important–this week:  Hard test, house-sitting, “easier” class’ most difficult unit exam.  Winterizing.

That’s all the attention I’m giving this problem.  That’s all the energy she will take from me.

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I’m Disappointed. . . In Me

It seems when you fail, and keeping failing that there’s a cross-roads.  Take some large action to un-do and reverse, or easier–just let go and drop the rest of the way down.  September was kind of like that for me.  OK, I wrote this dreary kind of self-punishing post last week.  Since I have re-evaluated.  I think September was a case of needing balance.  I oscillated between being much too easy on myself, then much too hard.  A person can only be ultra-disciplined for so long before they wear out.  And when I wore out, I relaxed.  But too much, because the relaxing had been so put off and the discipline was so strict that I needed MORE relaxing–see a pattern?  Finally, I did too.  So I’ll edit some of the more bleak/tough on myself aspects of this one, knowing that in October I need more of an even split between discipline and relaxation.

Water.  None.  Probably in the whole month, I drank no water.  When I do it makes me have to pee–which my schedule just doesn’t allow for.  Or it disrupts my sleep.  What to do?  I guess, because this goal is important to me I need to find a way.  Water, helps you still hydrated, which keeps you looking younger and feeling better.  It helps fill your stomach so you don’t feel as hungry.  It’s better than drinking other things.  But when to do it?  Let’s see, I suppose I could drink, drink, drink at work in the mornings–as long as I stop when work ends at 10 AM so I can make it through class.  Then, immediately after class (but no later) drink some more.  OK, I will go back to giving this an honest effort.  Maybe today at Costco I’ll get some sort of legit water bottle or thermos instead of using the 6 mo old Gatorade bottle that I have at work. . .  I totally got a cute, non-spill thermos-type cup for work/school water-drinking purposes!  I’ll report back in October and we’ll see if it helped.

Running.  I have good intentions.  I want to–really I do.  But when school becomes a factor there just isn’t any more time.  It takes a back seat to study/work/sleep.  Then, once there’s a gap in track days it becomes almost impossible to get my booty out there.  Add in cold/wet weather and fighting for space at the community college = not happening.  The outside running season is just over.  One day, when I’m rich I’ll either have a gym in my house or a membership.  For now–I resign myself to let this one slip in the interest of grades.  What I will do is study my flashcards (per the usual) at a FASTER speed on the treadmill.  I always study on the treadmill to kill two birds, but usually at 3.0-3.5.  I’ll make an effort to ramp up the intensity.  Also, I can try to jog on the treadmill while Cool quizzes me or during a show.  Thirdly, I can still do a little Wii-Fit, clogging, stretching, or intervals here & there.  I was pretty good this weekend about also climbing hills and walking fast when Cool and I were watching horror movies (we love fall).  Except, the belt gets really hot on my bare feet so I’m pretty sure this treadmill is about to die 😦  Hopefully without catching fire or burning somebody badly before it does.  I don’t know which is worse, having to buy a new Craigslist treadmill or carrying this one down the stairs and a new one up the stairs. . .  Oh treadmill, please hold out for 2 more years.

Work.  I will stop being so nervous.  That’s all.  If they do revert my schedule, I know what I have to do.  And that’s all.  I can’t constantly worry and try to accomplish the work of three people to prove my “worth” to them.  It’s telling when our receptionist gets a big basket of flowers after her dog’s euthanasia (Sloppy = nothing) and the newer tech gets balloons and donuts (me = nothing for 3 years) for her birthday.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t need for these people to like me or anything, and want to take the personal out of work all-together–it’s just telling of their attitudes towards me, that’s all.  And regarding my work ethic and schedule:  If they don’t know by now that I’m a worthy employee, well then they will just never know, and no action on my part will convince them.  Time to let the finger take over for me on this one. . .  Re-edit = true story and I’m letting go and letting God because this is too much for me to carry around all the time.

Money.  The one good thing about feeling like I have to do extra just to stay in place at work, is that it garners me more hours.  And more $$$$$  However, now that my undergrad loan ran out of payment options and I MUST pay an extra $200 a month, I’m a little worried about the health insurance I’m also now forced to get.  What happened to “free” health care for everyone?  This was not what I voted for!  I really have to make time to research all this insurance crap so I don’t get into trouble financially.  One.  More.  Thing.  I looked into some options, though I’m ignorant of all the jargon and terminology.  I make too much money (how is that even possible?) for Medicaid.  There’s some alternate (low-income, I think?) option for Medicaid rejects, and in trying to take the screening to see if I qualified for that, I may or may not have signed myself up for some catastrophe insurance that really is no different from the no coverage I have now–except if I’m hit by a bus.  What.  a.  Waste.  What happened to all employers paying for this?!

Drinking.  In the month, there has only been a handful of special occasions when I have partaken.  Except, the amounts were not great.  I need to moderate both the instances and quantities.

Cool.  Still dealing with medication/memory issues.  Had a melt-down just yesterday.  We have to help her remember to take all her meds when she is supposed to take them.  Hopefully, we can work out a more reliable system for doing that.  We love fall though, and are excited for Green Bluff, scary movies, and Halloween.  So there’s a motivator to get on, and stay on the right track.  Also, I’m home with her more often now that my schedule has changed, so I can help remind more often.

School.  I slipped a little.  If not just in my mentality.  I still went through all the same motions, but IN my head school was just a little lower priority then it should have been.  I am reformed and straightened out now.  Work doesn’t matter.  Fun is on the back burner.  School is what’s going to move my life along toward my ultimate goals and I am back in it whole-heartedly.  I even worked ahead a little yesterday.  I’ll get more ahead this weekend.  But not too hard-core to where I need a huge break.  I’m going to do study things daily, per the usual, but I can squeeze in an hour of relaxation too.  More balance is called for to break the pattern I’m in.

Food.  When I’m studying and bored or when I’m tired and stressed–it’s really easy to over-do it.  Then, when there’s no time to grocery shop and plan ahead like I should I do things like polish off an entire box of wheat Thins (or Doritoes) in one sitting.  I don’t want to do that.  This makes me crazy, and once you do it–makes it that much easier to do it again.  Food is a slippery slope.  And I have absolutely no self-control.  I need to go to Grocery Outlet–with a list–at least every other week.  And cook things that are at least neutral, if not healthy.  We went grocery shopping, with a list, yesterday.  And I treadmilled after eating my yummy crock-pot taco unhealthiness.  So I felt OK about it.  Now to get out of my jammies and to the Grocery Outlet EVERY week. . .

I did however, do a great job flossing every day.  I guess I just need to remember my biggest goals and plug away at those.  I need to see that even one slip-up doesn’t have to mean letting go of the aspiration entirely.  Stop being perfectionist, because it is counter-productive right now.  [And it makes me need to chill out later–too much] I’m hopeful about establishing more neutrality with a balance of both responsibility and fun next month.

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Scripture is a Distance-Maker

Mostly it makes me sad when Dayton has ignorant, hateful, judgments.

Here is my rambling rant sadness:  And quoting verse only creates more of a divide.  When religious people dehumanize the argument and start quoting verses, it does 2 things:  Quickly renders the more liberal or gay person quiet–as they (usually) cannot, from memory, quote opposing verses.  Squarely places the argument inside a book that does not have an equal value to each side of the argument.  The church person has placed faith into the word of the book as coming straight from God, while the other side, may think the book is inaccurate, pieced together by the most influential people of the day, interpreted in such a way as to accomplish current ends, and not scientifically proven.  No matter what the thoughts about the Bible, each side is now focusing on its contents rather than the current effects on actual human lives and relationships.

What I think church is supposed to do for people:

-Give them a safe, hopeful feeling because life, choices, death, and the after-life are in someone else’s capable hands.

*This requires faith.

-Bring people closer together.  Through common beliefs, values, and goals.

*This means pledging allegiance to the doctrine, attending group services and events, and having a common cause.

-Support those less fortunate and educate them.

*”less fortunate” is subjective, as in the case of Native Americans.  Educate means indoctrinate into the popularly held religious convictions.

I’m not saying these goals or the requirements to achieve them are right or wrong.  Religion can be a very positive, uplifting thing.  BUT we have to remember religion is an institution with a power structure.  And capital behind it.  So good intentions can be skewed by those at the top in order to make money ultimately.  Churches need more and increasing members to pay their bills.  They need those people to unquestioningly act for their church.  And the goals may get icky depending on the political agenda of the leaders.

So back to Dayton.  A small, conservative town, where the biggest employer is the school district.  This means most education goes as high as a Masters degree.  It also means the incomes stop in the $50,000/year mark.  If that.  And people may or may not have experienced travel and diversity.  I suspect most people have taken 1-2 big trips to other cultures and viewpoints if any.  So I’m not judging my town, but there are reasons they may have a more narrow life view.

Instead of judgement, I would like to see compassion.  Instead of heated arguments about verse, I want each side to stand in the shoes of the other party.  Really, I believe arguing with a fool–makes two.  I think the best way to handle such hateful attitudes is to be that person that lives an upstanding life.  A person that those Dayton people didn’t realize was gay.  It would show them the same person they always knew and liked, is still the same despite being gay too.  That is what really makes people change their views–knowing someone personally who doesn’t fall under the stereotypes.  Someone good, and kind, and educated.  I hope by living an upstanding life, and showing people through my actions that their hate and judgement is wrong–not the way I love, that real change can occur.

And I’m proud of my mom for having the courage and inclination to post a gay-positive sentiment on her Facebook, even if it was quickly shot down by well-intentioned, though ignorant people of Dayton.  I hope that doesn’t discourage her from changing her own mind to a more accepting viewpoint.

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In Livid Color

The basement at work was a mess!  A fucking mess–yeah, the f-word was warranted.

I didn’t want to do it.  It was a horrid mess and dangerous and disorganized, and I knew I COULD do a great job with it.  But I also knew it would take time, be dirty, hard work, and everyone would be mad. Because everyone at my work (all vet hospitals everywhere?) hates change, and cleaning would mean moving things.  I also knew, whatever work I did would be immediately undone.  Undone by both people wanting the OLD way back, and by people haphazardly shoving things where they didn’t belong.  So I realized it would be a challenge and any benefits wouldn’t last.

So I left it alone for 3 years.  I wanted nothing to do with that tedious job when all the thanks I would get was anger over change, and then, the same ol’ mess.  But then, my boss was talking about having us clean it to be legit for OSHA.  And really, that’s important.  What if a cat got down there and was poisoned by Monsanto?  What if a co-worker was hurt by a sharp tool while trying to grab food?  It WAS a task that needed doing.

And having to clean it as a group, during work hours, while being interrupted by clients, would be worse then just doing a good job of it during off hours by myself.  So I reluctantly volunteered to get it done before the business day started on Wednesdays when I’m there by myself cleaning anyway.  But I gave the disclaimer that I would have to move things, and I must be able to do it in grubby clothes as well as uninterrupted –over 3 or 4 Wednesdays.

My boss was amicable to those conditions (this was a job that really needed doing and of course nobody wanted to do it) so I jumped in whole-heartedly.  I figured if I was going to do it at all, I was going to do it RIGHT.  And I really did.  I was invested.

Honestly, I couldn’t have had a better attitude about the whole thing.  And I could not have worked harder, or done a better job.  I picked piles of random items off the dusty floor, organized piles of like items, scrutinized shelf-space to see where common items could be grouped together, and did heavy lifting and tedious organizing.  All of the chemicals went into rubbermaid boxes, all sharp objects into a lockable closet.  The basement slowly transformed from a dangerous vortex of chemicals and lost things and unknown garbage, into a safe, functional, visually-appealing storage room.

The trouble came with the storage of Rx food.  You see, our receptionist tracks it, orders it, and sells a good majority of it.  And SHE is probably the most anti-change person at work.  But my work had the dumbest system in place for years.  The canned food was strewn around the basement, but the dry food was stored in the tiny isolation room upstairs.  Then, orders of dog food were set upon tables in the midst of the basement.  It was a real mess, and totally impractical–but I knew changing it would cause strife because that’s the way everyone was used to it.

But only thinking of functionality, order, and ease for EVERYone at work, I preceded to stack it nicely.  I moved the canned flats from a small shelf, a small side-mounted cupboard,  the bench, and a couple of side shelves to one larger set of shelves, where it could be in one easy to see location.  And this went over well with all staff.  Lovely surprise to me!

But then I had an extra empty shelf.  And I knew it would get cluttered with disorganized crap right away if I didn’t fill it.  So I thought–what can I put there?  And it came to me–it would really be ideal to have all the food in one place.  I’ll move the dry food from the top floor to the basement.  But there was a series of hoops to jump through:  The small shelves were fastened to the wall (2nd vet pried them off for me), the shelf upstairs was heavy (my boss carted it down the stairs with me), the shelf we just struggled to get downstairs wouldn’t fit down the basement stairs (3 people helped disassemble those shelves), those shelves were weird to put together (the book-keeper helped me re-build them), there was a large amount of dry food in stock to carry down 2 flights of stairs (3 of us hauled them over an hour).  Got all that?  So there was nothing easy about moving the dry food to the basement so all the food could be in one place.  AND everyone (except the receptionist) helped accomplish it.  But it would be easy, and worthwhile, and practical so it was all worth it.

I came in early to work on part 3 of the basement project (the side room containing Christmas decorations, I131 leftovers, and large yard items) and to my surprise half of the main room had been disassembled.  Similar items I had so carefully stacked off the floor were tossed to the floor randomly.  I’m sure if it had been any easier of a job, I would have come in to the dry food placed in its former locale.  The food looked much as it had before I touched it–with the addition of all the dry.  On the order of 6 groupings of items were moved out of probably hundreds, but it was an affront none-the-less.  They (the spoiled receptionist) had carelessly un-organized my work.  And I’m sure there had been a hissy fit about the changes I’d made.

They (namely, my boss, who ultimately controls all aspects of the hospital) let her move things back where they were.  Under the pretense there was no room for the new food.  Which I KNOW is B.S., because they also moved food I already found a place for, back to the middle.  I’m sure it was all about being change-averse.

Tears came to my eyes.  They had figuratively punched me in the stomach.  All of my hard work, it felt like, was compromised.  Why continue cleaning and organizing?  They were sure to hate it and ruin it anyway. . .  Then, the more I thought about it–the less sad I was and the madder I became.  WHY would they be so thankless about my working so hard to make all of our lives easier?  More importantly, why was this allowed?  I had to say something.  I had worked too hard to apologize for moving things.  I had gone too far, to let them selfishly destroy it.  This wasn’t right.

When my boss came in, I truthfully told her I almost cried when I saw the basement.  And true to form, she (hating confrontation and wanting everyone to like her) said she had nothing to do with it. And I told her she put me in a bad position then didn’t have the decency to protect me when the going got rough (receptionist temper-tantrum).  Then everyone made excuses that there wasn’t enough room.  Which they just may have believed.  Because vets don’t pay attention to details such as who is doing what work, or how big the food stock is normally.

And now they are buying another shelf.  Because they really think there was not enough room–when I know very well there are 3 empty shelves down there and isn’t it funny the tables are set up exactly as before?  Maybe I’ll learn one of these days not to put myself out there by doing anything extra, because I know where my boss’ allegiance lies–and they are not with me.

On the plus side when my boss “offered” me to work “some extra hours” translation:  Wanted me to work full-time over the summer for no full-time benefits, I had no problem saying an unequivocal no.  If I hadn’t been through the incident that morning I would have taken on extra hours I don’t want or need, out of pure guilt.  So there’s that. . .

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“Dreams. I Have Dreams.”

In my dream last night, Brandi Carlile was the feature.  Cool and my parents and I were in Reno, and on a marquee for one of the hotel/casinos it said Brandi was to sign autographs during some [unremembered or unknown] time-span!  So of course we went.  But obviously, I did not have any merch, CDs, or anything appropriate for Brandi to sign.  So my mom gave me this picture she had recently taken of the inside of one of the hotel rooms at that particular casino’s hotel.  It was your indistinct, room with two made beds.  But it was something.

Because we were in Nevada, not as many people had heard of Ms. Carlile, so there was no giant line!  Lucky!  I walked right up to the table she was sitting at.  Unfortunetly, since I had just been hanging out with family, I did not look adorable in any way.  I was wearing some ball cap.  When I got up there, I couldn’t think of anything to say either.  And just held out my awkward picture for her to sign the back of.

Seeing a person in a cap, with a weird hotel room pic, Brandi assumed I was a tourist  and probably a foreign one.  She kept saying things like, “Welcome to the West!”  and “You should see such-and-such landmark while you’re in town.”  And even though I grew up in Northern Nevada, and spent the majority of my life in the West, I didn’t correct her.  Because that would be (more?) awkward.  And if Brandi Carlile assumes you’re a tourist, you just go with it.

And she handed back the signed pic, and had written a fairly lengthy autograph on the back [yay!].  But it was in a scrawl that I couldn’t decipher, so I had to have my mom (who is well-versed in 3rd grade handwriting) read it to me.  And it continued on the same, “Welcome to, and enjoy the west track.”  So not as relevant to me as I had hoped.  Then, I moved the picture, and a portion of the ink smeared.  Very unlucky.  This was not going to make a very good memory–or story.

And I woke up feeling very luckless indeed, despite getting Brandi Carlile’s autograph and not having to wait in an obnoxiously long line to get it.  I’m hoping one day I can get it for real when I’m awake.  One day while we’re both stoll young, too.  And I hope it goes nothing like the awkward parts of the dream, but everything like the non-waiting, no planning, no trouble parts.  Maybe I ought to carry some Brandi merch and CDs with me wherever I go. . .  Just in case.  Lesson learned.

Mirrors and Reflection (New Year–>New Life, Part 1)

It is that time again.  The time to look back, make changes, then look forward.

Moments of 2012.  I’ll do the countdown of BEST moments of the year in another post.  This is more an evaluation of life-areas:

Work was, in general, a negative and stressful experience.  And yet I apparently don’t dislike it enough to really turn my life upside-down and find a new one.  Because it IS possible to get a new job.  Which I suppose, gives me very little room to complain.  The mantra regarding work–just bide my time until I can move out of Spokane, and into a real career.  Also, think long-term–don’t let them use me up.  Cost-benefit analysis.

Love.  Cool and I had more ups then downs this year.  There are many changes I want her to make, but all-said we still share love.  More on this in goals.

School.  Overall, I enjoyed my classes.  The paperwork, the loan debacles, the staff, the professors?  Not so much.  Again, these things just come with the territory, plus they are not pervasive enough to make me want to leave all-together.  And it’s pretty much the story for any college, so they is no escaping anyway.  I DO love to learn, and especially like the opportunity to do things the right way–like I wish I could have done in Missouri.  It feels like a second chance, and feels good to build a viable future.

Money is tough.  Obviously, it’s difficult to pay bills, save, and still feel like a person.  2012 was not a great year for moderating restaurant eating.  I think this is because coming home to an empty house, while tired, just made eating out the easiest choice.  This next year I’m going to make sure Grocery Outlet trip occur every other week–but I guess that’s more of a goal then an assessment.  My finances need a little more discipline then I had in 2013 is the big story.

Family was probably not the greatest in 2012.  My parents (Mom) and I had a “thing.”  And we didn’t talk on the phone for months.  I cancelled my Montana plans because the extended family acted like $hit-heads toward me.  My mother-in-law is toxic.  Things to be learned here–if you can’t cut out the toxic, One:  Minimize the time spent with (or thinking about) them.  Two:  Just let go.  This is not to say, don’t hold them responsible for their actions, but don’t dwell either.  Just know they are crazy/selfish and write it off.  No need to be preoccupied by this crap like I was in 2012.

Exercise.  2012 was one of my best years since high school for physical fitness.  We belonged to the YMCA–and actually went often.  Then, we actually ran at the all-weather track frequently.  I really liked the fitness, and what it did for my body.  EXCEPT, as soon as the weather turned, I became sedentary again.  And now feel bad, unhealthy, and guilty.  So this needs work in the cold.  A cold weather plan can fix this one.

Food per the usual was bad, bad, bad.  Cookie dough for breakfast?  Yes, please!  I already feel fell, but there’s more pie–I’ll take it.  Produce?  What is that???  I don’t mind a diet, and I do not limit myself in any way.  Luckily, I am naturally thin, but I can’t say I’m all that healthy.  So without going crazy over it, I’m just going to try to limit sugar, eat decent portions (at meal times).  Which also is more a goal then a reflection.

Drinking.  My numbers here are still too high.  I deliberate publishing them, because I don’t want this to become anybody’s ammunition.  But I want to hold myself accountable.  So maybe I can post a number that I know, but the reference would be too obscure for someone else to interpret.  196 too many.  This number is wrong and I know it. This year is the year I change it. I just have to DO it. That’s all there is to it.

Walking on Eggshells

The mother-in-law.  And I hesitate to write that just because it’s SO cliche’.  Now, you might get the impression I’m disagreeable.  Which IS the case many times.  But it’s not because I TRY to be ornery.  And it isn’t because I LIKE drama.  No, no.  I hate drama and strife a lot, actually.  But I do require that everyone around me treat me a certain way.  And I will stand up to those who don’t.  I am unable to be phony, and I am unable to stay quiet while being mistreated.  So that leads to a lot of problems.  People don’t like being called on their $hit.

Here’s the story:

-I bought tickets to see Brandi Carlile at the Seattle Symphony for Saturday.

-Even though, we could have driven to Seattle and back over the weekend, I suggested we go early so we could spend Thanksgiving with Cool’s family.

-Both Cool and I had to take time of work to accomplish the family Thanksgiving.

-We could have easily stayed IN the city with my Auntie (who we lived with for a time) or friends.

-We got to Cool’s family’s house at 5AM and went straight to bed.  At 7:30 or 8AM, I woke up and woke Cool up.  I figured we had come this far, and rearranged plans so Cool and her mom had better spend some time together.

-When we went out to the living room, Cool’s mom (in an accusatory voice) asked why we were up.  We said we wanted to visit, then Cool’s mom turns to her baby and says, “Aren’t YOU tired?”  And Cool (who’s tired 24/7) said she was.

-This is literal now:  Cool’s mom turns to me and says, “Just because you’re awake means everybody has to be awake?”  So great.  You’d think she’d want Cool to be awake so she could see her, but any excuse to direct animosity toward me, right?

-Later we began to unload our belongings from the car.  Cool’s mom requested we bring 1 thing for dinner:  2 bottles of wine.  Thanksgiving morning, Cool drops one of the wine bottles onto the driveway, crushing it.

-TWO bottles of wine were so important to her mother that she sent us with money to the store to get a new bottle.

-Even though I am ethically opposed to shopping on Thanksgiving, I went (to appease her mother) without saying a word about my morals.

-When we came back, Cool’s mom said the bottle was too small and called Cool’s sister asking HER to bring another bottle (3rd) of wine.  This is on top of whatever alcohol was already in the house.

-During the evening, every single person there drank.  Including Cool’s mother.  Cool and I had brought our own beer.

-Wine has a higher alcohol content then beer.  Double, sometimes even more, I think.  And I was refilling everybody’s wine glasses.  It was a holiday after all.

-Cool’s mother didn’t say anything to anyone about drinking.

-No one was sloppy, drunk.  And Cool and I were sleeping there, not out partying, not driving anywhere.

-At the end of the night, Cool’s mom kept saying things (just to me) like, “You’re awfully social.”  Or, “Aren’t you cheerful?”  Kind of insinuating I was trashed.  Can’t a girl just have a good time at her VERY FIRST extended family Thanksgiving?

-I told a story to Cool, her step-dad, and her mom, and there was no reaction and no comment.  Just blank stares from all 3.  Crickets.  So, thinking they weren’t paying attention, or were old and couldn’t hear me (they are), I repeated the story.

-Not that the above should even matter.

-At that point, Cool’s mom got UGLY with me.  She insinuated I was drunk and sloppy and didn’t know what I was saying.

-Not wanting to have a huge confrontation, or to disrespect Cool’s mother (even though she was completely out of line) I said, “That’s it, I’m going to bed.”  And got up and went to the guest room.

-Cool, Momma’s Girl that she is, followed me and said, “She was just kidding!”  Because Cool doesn’t understand intention, and thinks just because something isn’t explicitly stated, it doesn’t exist.

-No, no way.  Cool’s mother was implicitly stating that I was some sort of sloppy drunk, and I do NOT deserve to be treated that way.  Nor was I drunk.  Or sloppy.

-Cut to Friday morning.  Which, by the way, we could have spent in Seattle, but didn’t.  I thought Cool should maximize time with her family.

-Cool’s Mom, specifically asked me how I was feeling in the morning–insinuating that I was probably hung-over (I wasn’t, because that would have required me to be drunk at some point, which I wasn’t).

-I spent the most awkward of mornings, turned to day studying while Cool and her mom watched TV/internet-ed/slept, without talking much.  I knew if I went to another room to study it would be seen as rude.  So I just studied my anatomy in the living room.

-I had initially wanted to go to ZOO Lights.  Cool’s mom wanted to go to just a plain lights because you could sit in the car, so I conceded  without prodding.  I knew it would be difficult for her to get around with her COPD and Oxygen tanks.

-Also, when it came time to pay for said light display, I held out MY $10.  And despite saying, “here’s our portion” and also having my hand, coming from the direction I was sitting, Cool’s mom goes, “Keep your money, Rebecca.”  Not acknowledging that I was the one trying to be polite.  (Cool had no cash on her, nor did she offer to pay)

-Also on Friday, Cool told her mom we were leaving for Seattle the next morning.  Her mom got the shittiest tone in her voice, and asked why so early.  She didn’t understand why we had to leave Saturday.  She couldn’t understand why we weren’t coming back to her house after the concert.  What about driving in the dark (We had driven from Spokane from midnight Wednesday when Cool got off work  until 5AM–with no questions/concerns from her mom)?  Why did we have to leave Sunday morning anyway?  On and on in an explosion of accusatory anger (directed implicitly at me).

-After we left, I asked Cool why she never stands up to her mother on my behalf.  As my mate, I think this should come naturally to her.  And get this irony–Cool said she didn’t remember the incident on Thanksgiving–she had blacked out??!

-So miss perfect sat by, black-out-drunk, while her mommy attacked ME for being drunk.

-After I nag Cool, to talk to her mother (which I’m certain her mother knows who is behind the talk) my mother-in-law leaves a note on my Facebook wall for all to see:  “I’m sorry you were mad when you left.  We do like you.  You’re welcome to stay over any time.”

-Let’s break that down, shall we?  I’m sorry YOU were mad.  Meaning, I’m sorry that you’re high maintenance and made my daughter upset with me.

-We do like you.  As if that was ever a question. Or relevant.  I don’t care if Cool’s mom likes me or not (she never will) but I do demand she treat me with the same courtesy and respect that I treat her with.

-And you’re welcome to come back–meaning if you don’t come, my baby will also stay away-waaaiiiiiillll.  And to that I say, Not.  On.  Your.  Life.  Woman.  Cool can do what she wants (if she plans it and pays for it) but I am not putting myself in that situation any more.  It never goes well for me.  Cool’s mom is toxic, and she’s officially extricated from my life in any meaningful capacity.

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Temptation

It feels just awful.

Fall is in the air.  Green Bluff Apple Fesitval with it llamas and you-pick produce are open and ready for me.  OktoberFests are beginning–I was invited to one and heard about two additional ones.  Hot air balloons–really?!  Invitation to pizza on the patio after work.  Fall brews are on tap everywhere.  I LOVE a festival!!!  There is running to be done–I want to set some PRs in this crisp air.  Horror movie marathons and pizza-baking need to commence.  Cool is ready to play.  I want to play!

And yet.

On Tuesday I have an Anatomy exam.  And I had to work all day today, half a day tomorrow, and all day Monday.  Which leaves the weekend to study.  And it makes me feel like I’m missing out.  Like I’ve always missed out.  When I worked so many hours, every other weekend, and all holidays at Noah’s Ark–I knew one day it would pay off.  When I worked on Chemistry pre-labs, physics practice problems, and balanced diets for Nutrition instead of going out with friends–I knew one day I could have all the fun I wanted.

And yet–I’m here.  I missed out, and yet I’m still back at square one instead of reaping the rewards of my hard work.  And I feel sorry for myself.  And tempted to blow off the hard-core studying I know I should do to get that SUPER-important A on exam 2, A+ in Anatomy, and that 4.0 GPA.  So instead of thinking about all the fun I’m missing this weekend, here is something to remind me of why school is so important:

This time is different from undergrad and pre-vet.

I will have tried my absolute best in this class.

I can draw on my anatomical knowledge in the future.

This will help prepare me for grad/doctorate school.

It will feel good to look at that exam and be confident that I know the answers.

Nothing feels worse then looking at a test and knowing nothing.

Except maybe looking at a poor grade written at the top of your test.

This way, I won’t always have to play catch-up with grades.

It’s MUCH easier to keep an A, then be on the stupid borderline.

My liver doesn’t need all that beer anyway.

I can always study my cheat sheets while taking a walk outside.

I’ll feel rested at work on Monday.

Fall is just beginning.  Even if I miss it–I get a Thanksgiving and X-mas break.

Not going will save money.

I can really succeed at this major in this school, if I put effort towards it.

An exam Tues allows me to get ahead the rest of the wk (when study time is built in to my schedule)

The festivals will feel better if I attend them after I’ve aced the test.

I can move someplace I truly like.

There will be countless festivals and concerts in Boulder.

I can get a job that is satisfying and that takes me places in life.

And I’ll have a better schedule.

One day I can sit back and relax b/c I’ll have made good money at a career.

So, it’s time for me to buckle down.  I can do it, because this is important to me.  I’ve rearranged everything in my life to put school first–so now I just need to do it.  Quit thinking about things I’m missing, and think instead of what a great opportunity and second start this is.  How this is my way out of depressing life circumstances.  And I really do want to do well.

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