Bright Side Blogs: The Quest For Wisdom Through Trial and Error

To the GYM! The Saga Continues

2011-12-29T04:18:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, I have a gym membership that I have had since 2004. It's gotten to the point where it was so cheap, I kept it, even during my unemployment of 2009. Last year I wrote about how if I went 12 times a month, my insurance would pay me $20, making my health insurance cost $100 rather than $120, and the gym membership free. You may also recall from previous posts, that my boss was quick to point out, "that's like every other day." Well, a lot has changed in the gym arena, and I thought you might like to hear the tale.

Firstly, my boss is no longer my boss. You'd know that if I wrote more often. I was promoted in May, and we were no longer limited to the company policy about fraternization. We immediately quipped, "we can hang out together now!" She has been asking which gym I go to, and trying to get me to switch to LA Fitness for the last year or so. I go to Bally's, and due to above explanation, was not willing to switch. One of my guests (we'll call him Fred) often came in to the store and would immediately talk about how he works out 2 hours every afternoon, and how much he loves his gym. He would always end up insulting me without realizing it, and I chalked it up to his being from Jordan, or a neighboring country where the customs were different, especially between men and women. Conversations would go like this:
"Hi, Fred."
"Hi, have you been to the gym lately? I am about to go for 2 hours."
"Yes, I've been 2 times since Monday."
"Oh. You should change gyms. The clientele at LA Fitness is much better. Do you like your gym?"
"It's affordable, it works for me."
"Ah. How much would you like to lose?"
"Um. Some?"
"Well you have to stop drinking pop, and absolutely no sugar. Absolutely none. Sugar just makes things look like they do here and here and here (he says, pointing to my body)." Does he know I don't drink pop? Yep.
"What can I help you with today, Fred?"
After I finish helping him, he invariably hands me a card, either a gym referral card or a handyman card (this man only knows the home improvement that I have taught him over the last year (Lord help him), but the card is cool, because it has little magnets in it. It kills me when the ones who don't know what they're doing have the coolest cards. I've begun looking for the bad advertising to find a good service :) Anyway, this kind of conversation went on pretty regularly, and I always somehow managed to feel bad after!

I got used to my gym, and went to yoga every week for a while (and still hit it sometimes). It took 8 months, countless phone calls, letters, emails, threats of reporting to the BBB, more letters in bright envelopes and me actually using the phrase "I'll hold" twice, but Bally's FINALLY got my reimbursements correct through my insurance. It was one of the more frustrating situations of my life, asking Bally's to fix a typo, but we don't need to go in to that. This is a happy post :)

On December 6th, I received a letter in the mail that stated that Bally's had been sold to LA Fitness, and all the Minnesota locations were closing, save for 2, which were to become LA Fitness locations. This change would take place on December 1st. I was annoyed, but not surprised. I mean, 8 months to fix a typo? Telling me they sold 5 days after the fact? Classic Bally's. My location was one that was staying open, and I was told I had the choice to pay $30 a month and be stuck in my own club location, or pay $30 a month and go to any location I wanted. Since my former boss (we'll call her Gwen for the rest of the blog) and Fred (boo, Fred) both went there, I upgraded to other locations. This is all just a really ridiculously long explanation for what happened this week.

This week, I told Gwen that I updated my account, and can go to any LA Fitness, because Bally's is dumb. She got really excited, and we both agreed we should workout. You may recall she is tall and athletic, so this is a bit of an unnerving idea for me. She said she hadn't worked out all year basically, and suggested we go walk on the treadmill for 15 minutes. OK. So we got to the gym, and things got embarrassing for her pretty quickly. It went like this (all me). and I will let you guess which comment was found the most inappropriate:
"Holy big."
"The pool is twice as big! And the tiling for the lanes is straight!!!"
"My whole gym, including the pool, is the size of the lobby!"
"Wait, none of these machines are out of order?"
"There's no rust on any of these machines!"
"Is that sauna only for women!?!?!?!?!?!"
"Oh my gosh! Look at this locker room!"
"Those lockers are twice as big. They have wooden doors. There's no rust in here!"
"Zumba at 4:30? Can we go? Can we go?" (jumping up and down)

You get the picture. There are some definite differences between the two locations.

So we started our 15 (20) minute treadmill walk, and Gwen immediately started looking around. She was most impressed by the guys in the courtyard below doing pull ups. I think that's a goal of hers. The guy next to me ran the whole time we were on the machines, and so she ran for bursts of 3-4 minutes. I may or may not have accidentally hit the emergency stop and had to start over. There's no way to know for sure. After that, she let her competitive side out (she played 3 sports in high school. 3 sports. Who does that?), and thought we should do 20 minutes on something else. So we did the bikes for 20 minutes. I may or may not have tried to adjust my seat while pedaling and made a horrendous noise, as well as become suddenly, drastically uncomfortable. There's no way to know for sure. Then, we should of course do some strength training, so we did the hip something-or-other, where you lay down and allow weight to be put on your elevated feet, and you push. I kept thinking I was going to hit myself in the eye with my knee, and that this must be what childbirth is like for some women, knees up, pushing, all the midsection having to be misplaced somewhere. Terrifying. :()

Last night we went to Zumba. Half the class was new. That was nice. It was fun, you dance for 3-5 minutes per song, then take a break while she finds the next song. The music is fun, but clearly out of Miami. The dances are fun; there is Cha-Cha, Salsa, Meringue, Ballet, Hip Hop and a lot of hoochie mama moves. Those felt the most unnatural for me. The instructor was this cute little clubbie (a girl who likes the clubs) looking like NSYNC up there, and I felt bad for watching her butt to try and figure out what she was doing with it, exactly. I could not get the pumps and the thrusts quite right. The lady in her 50's next to me was doing pretty good, but I felt like John Cusack before he was cool. I got a lot of other stuff down well, but those hoochie mama moves just don't come easy for me. I guess that's a good thing, but it doesn't do much for the old self esteem :) It was fun. Next week I'll try spinning. And I think I'll do Zumba again. There was one lady there who got certified in Zumba on Saturday, and she was very excited, but she left after 2 songs. Not sure what to do with that.

So, the quest for fitness continues; won't Fred be pleased. I haven't seen him since August, when he told me he had a brain tumor and I wouldn't see him for a couple of months. I hope he's well. Perhaps I will run in to him one of these days...at the gym. :)

Hopefully we'll get the insurance figured out, now that I am spoiled by a large gym. One lady said this location was small! I will need to do some more investigating. It is a very open layout, and every body can watch everybody else. But they have racquetball courts, and I think I may invest in some of that equipment. Good times. Must wear better shoes. :)

The song of the day is in honor of my recent moving it experience. Actually there are two today, because I can't decide which one to use. One fast one, one not. :) You all know I am full of paradoxes. I blame it on being born in Northern Lower Michigan. That's when it all started...

Officer Wednesday, Can't You Let Me Go with a Warning?

2011-03-03T06:35:00.000-08:00

You may not know that I am abhorrently hated by Humpday. I guarantee, if anything bad is going to happen to me, it’s going to be on a Wednesday. I don’t know why this is; it’s a case of the Mondays multiplied by 10. Most weeks I get up, get ready for work, and don’t realize it’s Wednesday until I drop something in the toilet, or people are driving while putting on pantyhose. Suddenly it hits me like a bus; “Is it Wednesday today?” I ask aloud, with a hiss in my voice and an emphatic first syllable. Sadly, it usually is. Arrest me, Wednesday. I'm guilty of waking up on YOUR day.

Yesterday I was astutely aware that it was indeed Wednesday. I decided to not let it win. I got up, made myself an amazing lunch (fruit salad and a Black Forest Ham sandwich on whole wheat with horseradish mustard and Muenster cheese), packed it up, and left early for work so I could stop at Sam’s club.

Immediately out of the driveway, I looked both ways to make sure I could cross the intersection at the yield sign. It looked clear. It looked clear, because I did not see the white car in the snow and with the sun in my eyes, zooming toward me. I was sure an accident was imminent. I braked, missed her by about 2 feet, and she decided this was a perfect time to stop her car and scream at me for about 30 seconds, while the guys at the bus stop looked on, amused at the stupid women. I get that it was my fault, but I made the monkey sign, like, “clearly this was my fault, and I’m really sorry” with big hand gestures, and that just wasn’t good enough. So she blocked the intersection and screamed at me, and I went on my way; I may have started to cry. There’s no way to know for sure.

I got to Sam’s, still shaking, parked next to a car that was well in my spot and expected a ding on my door, and loaded up my cart with 9 items. I know this because at Sam’s they count your items and match up your receipt because due to the lack of bagging supplies, they assume you are stealing everything that is loose in your cart. As I was walking up to the counter, a man with one package of butter (one package, at Sam’s Club??) and I let him go first. As it turns out, my single item friend was really there to pay off his entire Sam’s card. He had 7 different checks to accomplish this. And, as luck would have it, the cashier was new. After much debate and conference with his fellow employees, the credit card was paid off. This only took about 10 minutes. I happened to notice (because at Sam’s, all the information comes up on a monitor now, and the buyer is not able to read it, but the rest of the line is) that he paid off $10,772.00. This is exactly, to the dollar, how much debt I have, which I am trying to not have, and on days such as this seems to be ruining my life. I think I actually let out a groan. I mean, what kind of guy actually goes first, then takes 15 minutes? A non chivalrous, boring, middle aged, balding white guy, that's who.

The gentleman then started his transaction for the butter, but could not figure out the card swiping machine, and every time he signed his name, he hit “cancel” instead of “accept.” So that was fun. It was fun 4 times in a row!

I got back in my car, which miraculously did not have a ding in the door (it was probably the single man in front of me), and drove to work. I took the backroads because….well because it was Wednesday, and that’s really all there is to it. As I came up to the building from the back, I went to turn left in to the parking lot. I was stopped with my left blinker on, waiting for the opposing traffic to turn right into the lot. I hear this noise, and think, what is that? I know that noise…it’s a screeching eel from the Princess Bride. They always grow louder when they’re about to feed on human flesh. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw (in slow motion, of course) an old, beat up silver Buick literally careening (yes, carEEning) behind me, about to hit me, but trying to swerve. I floored it and cut off the person turning right, and very very very narrowly avoided getting rear-ended. I did glance up just in time to see him flicking me off, so that was nice. At least I admitted it was my fault when it was. That’s when I parked (I don’t even know where) and called Captain Awesome with one whiney sentence, all screechy and teary: “I (snurgh) hate (snargh) Wednesday!!!” He responded with, “It’s all uphill from here.” Which is very funny if you’ve seen Due Date; Zach Galifinakis says that, and the RDJ corrects him, “Uphill? No it’s all DOWNhill from here.” “But nobody wants to be down, they want to be up…” I cried for a minute or so, then walked inside, ready to tell my fabricated story of how it’s SO cold, my eyes were watery.

I got in the store, and instantly a woman said, “excuse me,” and I thought good gracious, I’m not even on the clock, I still have my coat on, and already bombarded. But, to my surprise, she said, “are you the one who almost got killed by that maniac? You were sitting there for the longest time with your blinker on, and he just came around that corner like a crazy person!!!” Turns out she was the one I cut off, but she didn’t even care. She actually stopped, hoping I’d turn in and not get hit. So that was the best Wednesday in a while.

After I left work, I couldn’t find my car, being so flustered when I parked. I tip-toed across a pool of ice, and stepped over a snow bank to get to it, and as soon as I thought I was in the clear I stepped on another patch of ice and fell. And there were witnesses. “Are you OK?” they asked, “I’m fine. It’s Wednesday, and that’s really all there is to it.”

Since my Wednesdays bring on a case of the Mondays, today's song of the day is:

I think I need a nurse...

2011-02-18T06:42:00.000-08:00

I'm sick. I know this because....well because I am admitting it. I never admit when I'm sick. Also, last night, my neighbors had a massive Pot Smoking festival, and the smell made me so nauseated, I knew I must be sick. Normally when Marijuana seeps through the walls, I get the munchies. I've had no interest in food and still don't.

It started off as a mild Sinus irritation I attributed to all the dust at work, but yesterday exploded into a high fever and dizziness (actual dizziness, not blonde dizziness). I had Captain Awesome come get me early from work (he had a fever too), and we were asleep by 4pm. It was sleep, but that frenzied, fever sleep, you know? My whole body was shivering, but my lips were on fire. I could not speak, and all my thoughts were in Shakespearian English, and I think iambic pentameter to boot. In my delirium, all I remember is thinking something like, "I do not condemn your family, but your treatment of them, the very basis of which gives rise to your villainy." I think I was talking to Liam Neeson. I could not, for the life of me, form any modern sentences. This is a big deal because typically my stream of consciousness flows in Jane Austen speak, not Shakespeare. To be fair, I did just watch "Much Ado About Nothing" last weekend. I woke up with my pillow soaked around my head, and I think my fever had broke somewhere in there.

I am not at work today. My plan was to go in and try to get through it, because my boss is out of town, and I knew things would be bare schedule wise. Last night I called another one of my bosses, and we worked out a plan. For this I am very grateful. I did not realize how ill I feel. I have been up for one hour, and am presently returning to that bastion of rest, my bed. That's the update from the ole' homestead at the moment.

Now Here's the Story All About How...

2011-02-13T04:36:00.000-08:00

...My life got twist-turned upside down...Wow. I can't say I have woken up with the Fresh Prince of Bellaire theme song in my head since 8th grade. I know it's 8th grade, because I was sitting in Margo Sirrine's English class (which I LOVED), and we had one of those directional/trivia sheets to get to know each other at the beginning of the year. The items were numbered 1-20, and some were questions, and some were directions. The first one said, "Read this entire page before you answer anything." One of the other questions was, "What show comes on Tuesdays (or whenever it came on)," and I started to write the Fresh Prince, when I remembered the instructions said to read the entire page before answering. So I was one of 2 people who only filled out my name and turned it in because the last item said, "Write your name on the top of this paper and only do #1." Yay me. This has absolutely NOTHING to do with why I write today. How is that for a stream of consciousness? Any psych students doing case studies? No? Well, you are now. :)

I write to tell you the tale of how Captain Awesome turned a boring, particularly cold and frigid January into a month of luck and fortune. I can see you there, on the edge of your seat. Let us begin.

The year started out like any other, excepting that out of sheer exhaustion, New Year's Eve was spent doing laundry and in bed by 10. Two people cold, bored, and unsatisfied with their life at the moment (go to work when it's dark, come home when it's dark) had only the St. Paul Winter Carnival Medallion Hunt to anticipate with any glee. This tradition, however, did not begin until January 22, and that seems like an eternity in the frozen tundra that is the East Metro.

On January 6th, on my way to work, I happened to hear that there was a pineapple hunt sponsored by Sun Country Airlines and KS95 that was happening at that moment. The winner received a trip for 2 to Mexico (Mazatlan, to be exact), and a slot as a judge for the Ugliest Hawaiian Shirt Contest the following Tuesday (this winner ALSO won a trip to Mazatlan). I thought it might be nice practice for the medallion hunt, and called Captain Awesome to tell him about it. I didn't think much of it until I got a call at 4pm while I was at work, and he was at the Mall of America, sure the pineapple was there. He stayed until 8, and we met at home. No luck. The next day we took off work a bit early and went back to the MOA to search for it. We knew it was on the East side of the Mall, and was either in Nickelodeon Universe (an amusement park in the mall themed in Spongebob Squarepants) or Underwater Adventures. Our guts told us it was in Underwater Adventures, but to go in, you needed a ticket, and we really didn't believe we would have to pay to find the pineapple. There was a guard standing at the escalator, and we wrote it off.

At about 3:58pm, KS95 read the final clue: The pineapple was at Underwater Adventures, and if you said the password ("Mazatlan or BUST!") you could gain access to it. We ran and called the password over our shoulders as we passed the guard. We went around the corner...and just missed the winner by about 3o seconds. Facebook had the clue 2 minutes earlier than the station, and I did not have the notification sent to my phone. Technology spoils another hunt!!!! We went to Bubba Gumps and told the bartender we were in great need of consolation, which arrived in the form of some fruity Beachy drinks with umbrellas, on the house. That was nice. We lamented our loss and the fact that we were not rule breakers, or we would have found it first. After a couple of fruity drinks, I sent a text message to KS95. It went like this: "FYI, we wanted to look for the pineapple @ Underwater Adventures, but the signs prohibited us. And Facebook beat you with the clue." I felt satisfied, and we went home.

About 7pm I got a text. It was from Sun Country Airlines, which had received my forwarded text. The sender was apologetic about the confusion, and in consolation for second place, she offered us 2 first class upgrades for free on any Sun Country flight. I thought that was actually really cool, though I had no travel plans. It's always a good thing to have in your pocket. I thanked her profusely, and went to bed consoled with umbrella drinks and a future flight in First Class. I dreamed about what Ugly shirt I might wear, bought of course at a thrift shop I had yet to visit. The contest was the following Tuesday, and this was Friday, but I had plans to sweep it.

Monday, January 10th, I went to work and was accosted by cranky Minnesotans who, in their winter blubber have forgotten all manner of manners, including a simple "hello" or "excuse me" before bombarding me with questions, aimed at my back. It was a particularly rough day, finished with a teeth scraping dental appointment, and when I came home, Captain Awesome tossed a piece of paper at me. It was very cryptic. It was bulleted and had odd half sentences. "Teri has a crush on her chiropractor." "There was a dream about a baseball player." I stared at the sheet, not able to make any sense out of it, my eyes burning from my long day and the exhaustion. He began to tell me that the same radio station, KS95, was having a contest, and if you could answer questions about what they had talked about all day in between songs, you could win a trip to Cancun, Mexico (through Sun Country, of course). He listened all day. He called. It rang for over 6 minutes. The first three people missed the first question. He was caller four. He gave all the answers in a matter of fact, academic tone. "That answer would be..." When he answered the last question, the DJ's rejoiced!!!! And the air was dead. It went like this: "Hello??? Do you have a pulse? You just won a trip to Mexico, you realize that, right?" And there he was, cool as a cucumber, pulling a Korbin Dallas from the Fifth Element: "Yeah. Thanks." I told him that's a DJ's nightmare, and I could picture them in their studio, putting their mikes on mute and SCREAMING. Then I asked (very selfishly), "Can we still go to the Ugly Shirt Contest tomorrow?" I had the shirt you see in the photos....Hibiscus flowers and Woody Station wagons decorated in American Flags? HOW COULD THAT BE BEAT?!?!?

When he told me, I didn't believe him. A) that he had won, and B) that he was so cool about it. It wasn't until the next day I was driving to work and I heard the promo on the radio. "Call in and play Know The Show and win a trip to Mexico!!!" They played little blurbs of previous winners, there was Captain Awesome in the promo saying, "Well that answer would be 7." Then it started to sink in. I needed to get to the gym and a tanning bed, STAT. :)

We went to the Ugliest Shirt Contest on Tuesday. We didn't care if we won. We were hoping to come in third, and win a first class upgrade so we could travel first class both ways. I had gone to Goodwill and picked up 6 choices, and we chose some doozies. We accessorized with coupons, brochures, sunscreen and my 35mm digital camera on a strap around my neck. Suddenly I got really cold feet. Just like (my mother reminded me) when I went to audition for the Nutcracker and chickened out at the last minute because there were so many dancers there when I was a kid. I chickened out again. There were some truly horrid shirts, and I didn't feel like I had any right to take any pictures. Nobody was talking to anyone else, it was awkward. Captain Awesome bought me a mojito and talked me into it again. I clumsily got in line, and there was no audience anymore...everyone who was sitting was now waiting to strut their stuff on the catwalk.

So here I am, standing in line, watching those before me do a little dance (which I did not know we were doing until this moment), when this woman walks up to me. "Hi," she says, "I am with Sun Country, and I noticed you have a pretty nice camera there. The guy I hired is not taking any pictures, and I'd like to hire you. I'll give you 2 free first class upgrades, how does that sound?" My face immediately turned red, and I think I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. I instantly turned into a photomaking machine. A machine, I say. I took about 300 pictures over the next hour. AND, I made the top 15, thanks to my Napolean Dynamite dance (why I didn't Riverdance that second time, I will never know...I couldn't decide how to move, so I went for stupid). I took some fun pix of the winner, who can now, FINALLY go on a Honeymoon, though he has been married for years. He did go all out with a grass skirt and paint his belly. Take a look, at the OFFICIAL Sun Country Facebook Page. All mine. And they even gave me photo credit. We spent a bit of time with them after the show, and we shared our good fortune and told them C. Awesome had won a trip the night before. The winner's wife instantly flew into a frenzy. "That was YOU!?!?!? I wanted to slap you!!! You were SO cool, SO cool, like, 'Yeah. Thanks." Ohh, I was screaming at the radio, I want to slap you right now, but I won't! Oh! Oh! I bet those DJ's were pulling out their hair behind their microphones!!!!!"

So there it is. The next Thursday we went and picked up our information from the radio station, called Sun Country and asked if we could put the upgrades I earned towards the trip he won, and they set everything up. We went Feb 3-7, and that, dear ones, is another entry entirely.

For now, the Fairy Tale pauses. More to come soon, dear readers. Good Night.

PS: We didn't find the medallion this year either. We were WAY off, which is actually a consolation. The last 3 years, we've literally been within a foot of it, or walked right over it. Right over $10,000

Hmmm...Blog acting up?

2011-01-28T05:24:00.000-08:00

Hey, I noticed today I cannot respond to any comments or hit any share buttons. I also noticed my counter stopped working. Please email me if you are having problems too. It's weird, right?

My next blog will be the stellar adventure of just exactly HOW Captain Awesome and I, through joint efforts, secured a free trip, with upgrades. Oh yeah, you're on the edge of your seat, I know.

Fake it Till You Make it

2011-01-23T07:27:00.000-08:00

I started Gym-ming it again (gummi word. I blame the Yoga teacher). I have never given up my membership, even when I was unemployed, because it’s only $20 a month. In the last few months I have been goading myself to get there because I found an insurance plan that pays $20 a month towards a gym membership if you go 12 times in that month. This seemed reasonable to me until my boss, a fit, athletic Amazon, said “Oof! That’s three times a week!” If SHE thinks that’s excessive….oh lordy. Suddenly this reasonable request started to lay bricks on my motivation, and built a wall 5 feet high of self doubt. Then the brick layers went to lunch; like a French lunch. I’m pretty sure they “lunched” 4 hours (in dream time….have you seen inception? That’s like 2 months) and got drunk. Then they returned, saw the wall, deemed it ugly, and went off to do French things. Yep, pretty sure that’s what happened. Very sensitive artist-y, my motivational brick layers.

The funny thing about the gym is that every morning you jump out of bed, like it's Christmas. You come running downstairs and ask the scale, "Am I skinny yet?" It can be very disappointing. But it's not all bad, and you have to remind yourself why you're doing it, blah blah blah. :)

Anyway, like any lame New Years Resolver, (to my credit, I never actually RESOLVED to go to the gym for New Year’s, it just happened to coincide with a particularly unflattering picture of myself), I started back at the Gym in January. I thought, “If I start early, I can get 12 sessions in,” and I went. I walked the treadmill to music on my iPod. I thought, “Everyone is looking at me,” and then, in style typical of me, I started thinking about whether or not that was true. Here’s my theory on gawking at the gym:

You can give yourself any reason not to go; I for one can talk myself out of almost anything. The worries are always the same: What if I only spend 10 minutes on the treadmill? People will think I’m lazy. What if people look at me? Am I cute enough to get hit on by that one guy who spends 8 hours a day on the weight machines, trolling for chics? What if my clothes make me look fat?

Good questions, all, and likely to keep you at home. I opted to put on my tightest clothes, fake my confidence, and go anyway. I have this athletic shirt that is kind of huggy, but promises to “wisk away moisture,” and as you likely have guessed, have never worn it. I have this philosophy about bolstering self confidence; it’s basically a “Fake it Till You Make it” idea, and it works…mostly. So I went. I tied my iPod to my arm, and I climbed on the treadmill. These can get VERY fancy, by the way. I figured it out, put on my music and did my thing. And yes, I looked around. Nobody was looking at me, I was the only looker. I started worrying about my time on the treadmill (there were 2 highschool girls on the treadmill in front of me, running. I started worrying about my speed. Then I realized (or convinced myself) that everyone there was really only worried about themselves, just like me. And I saw people do circuits; 10 minutes on each machine, and I realized nobody was really paying attention to me at all, and people come and go. My confidence started to become real until I felt my shirt start to creep up my back, and I spent a good 8 minutes tugging it back down. Now I go, and I ride the stationary bike (this is really fancy too; I just set how long I want to go, what level, and then hit “surprise me” for the route. I actually enjoy this, and can read at the same time), then I swim for a while, and I’m getting a routine down.

I have always wanted to do a yoga class, and I’ve done it at home, but it was some sort of milestone to do it in a class with people. I so wanted to do this, and was so resolved, that right before the brick layers started to pile on stones, I told my bosses I needed Wednesday nights off for Yoga. And I really wanted to go. I finally did, yesterday. I had a decent amount of confidence, as I know many of the poses by name, and did not think I would fall behind. Besides, I’d been singing “I have confidence in Sunshine” all the way to the gym, but this may have been because it was 20 below zero, and I was being optimistic. So I get there 20 minutes early, assured that I don’t have to bring a mat, and I’m excited, because Yoga is about connecting the mind to the body through breath, and focusing on the transitions between poses. It’s relaxing but taxing, as I like to say, because the pose may not be that hard, but hold it for 20 breaths, and you’ll feel uncomfortable. Get to know your discomfort! J I know a few of things about Yoga: 1.) If it hurts, you need to find a modification so it doesn’t. 2.) Moves like the Plow can kill you if you do them wrong, and should be supervised closely, so you don’t snap your neck while your feet are over your head. 3.) Yoga is meant to calm the body and the mind to focus on your next tasks, with a team of mind and body calmly floating through the world, ready to deal with anything (even MN drivers, which is another blog entirely).

So I get to the class 5 minutes early, and there are already territorial issues. People want their mats far enough apart so they don’t hit each other with a wayward warrior pose, but there’s not a lot of room to fit in. So in Fake it Till You Make it style, I ask, “is it ok if I scoot in between you two?” and they both move 2 inches to let me in. That was nice. The teacher starts, and says how important it is to breathe, my breath should be the most interesting thing in the room, etc. We take deep breaths, get started to Enya, and begin. She doesn’t do any poses herself, she walks in between all of us like a severe school teacher, yelling out poses so quickly, that there is no time to transition into one before she is two ahead of you, let alone breathe correctly. I imagined that she had a whipping stick she was slapping into her palm, but I am pretty sure she didn’t….pretty sure. Oxygen deprivation can do interesting things to memories. Calm area CRASHED. She slows down a bit, and we start to get in line again, and I am excited, because I know the poses she’s calling (which is good, cause she explained exactly NOTHING about how to do them), except a couple, and I look around to see what they look like, and people are doing different things, because clearly they don’t know either. I get a sharp look for looking around (not ONCE did this lady say to anyone, “Nice job,” “that’s it” or anything of the sort), and I’m having a really hard time finding a calm center. Every time I start to come back to center, something happens. A knock on the door, then my teacher (who STILL has us holding in chair pose), says very snappily, “I can only take one of you, I’m full. Class started SEVEN minutes ago.” She wants to sit and argue while we’re balancing, trying to find a peaceful center. The music changes to the local pop station instead of something that is conducive to yoga. Something wrong here?

A few of the poses are particularly painful in my hips, specifically the right side. I modify them. I get a look. LOOK lady, I’m not killing myself to be YOUR star pupil, ok? Then she starts throwing in extras for the people who have been her student for a while; “Option to go into bird of paradise. Option to raise that left leg,” and it’s clear it’s not for our benefit; she’s trying to place us in order of advancement (Which is SO not yogi material). Then, just for laughs, she tells us to transition in to PLOW. With no insight on modifications, nothing. People do it. They’re falling, they’re whimpering because it hurts, and I…well I refused, frankly. I’m not breaking my neck over this, and I’ve got neck issues; I’m a terrible candidate for plow, as are the ladies on either side of me, easily in their 80s. I did another pose, in similar form, so as not to draw attention to myself.

I kept thinking, “just get through the hour, you’ll be happier and feel better,” but I didn’t. I mean, I got through the hour, but I can’t say it was worth it. Then this nice lady comes up to me after, and tells me that if I’m going to use the gym mats, I should use 2, because they are very thin. And if I have one, it’d be better, because they smell, and people snot on them, and they don’t get cleaned very often. Also, I should come ½ hour early on Saturdays, and put my mat down, then go do my circuit, because they fight over real estate in there.

So there it is. My first experience in a yoga class, and I can NOT resign myself that it was normal. I don’t have any respect for this “yogi,” who said she wouldn’t do any poses because a couple of days ago she was doing Crow Pose and kneed herself in the eye, making it black (it wasn’t black). She did do a couple after class when her star pupils talked about themselves; she had to get the attention back so she did a couple to show them how it should be. I’m a bit sore today, but not at all calm. Just irritated. It’s like going to a spa and they play heavy metal music through your massage.

And what is confidence in sunshine anyway?

Vacation, Take me Away!!!

2011-01-23T07:22:00.000-08:00

Children live lives of permanent vacation…the days seem long and empty. As we grow, time seems to grow shorter also. Is this because we’re always coming off vacation mode? Or is it because we’ve come off vacation mode so long ago that even when we get the rare vacation (or vacation day), we try to plan out how to maximize our time? Get out the old Excel, boys, we need to do some linear programming on maximizing down time!

I get a discount at the gym if I go 12 times a month. I’m thinking “no problem! That’s like a few times a week.” My friend points out, in her Gen Y tilt of the head (we ALWAYS want the Gen Y opinion), “that’s like every other day.” Suddenly I’m thinking, “A month is so short!” A cycle when all the bills are due, and they always seem to be due too early.

I’ve been in a rut of nose grinding for a while now. So much so, that even when I’m home, I’m freaking out about time. Here’s what goes through my head for the last hour of work: “I’ve got my gym bag in the car. I’ll go to the gym, take my shower there (I HATE my shower, but this is another blog entirely), run home, cook supper, put the dishes away (and some Mondays I get a cheerful pick-me-up) watch “Chuck.” I think we all know I love Chuck by now. I get so worried about getting there, I am stressed out all the way there, imagining phantom cars behind me, riding me, waiting for me to turn left. I just gotta get there. Just be faster, just make better turns, just be…superwoman! Sometimes when I am in this rut, Captain Awesome will point out that I am stressing him out. Or he’ll not be ready to go when I am (really???). I usually try weakly not to freak out, but he says something like, “are you hungry?” and I resent this question (it is akin to “are you PMSing? Here, have some wine), so I turn in to a toddler that says, “No. I’m not hungry…hmmmpf!!!” I usually eat something to appease him, and it turns out I usually am hungry, and apparently this adds to all I’m worried about. Millions of people dying and starving in the world, and I whine about not wanting to be thought of as hungry. But I digress.

So I’m driving along, speeding, needing to be there, when I realize I need to be. Just be. Then my mind laughs out loud….”like Drew Barrymore!!!” In Ever After, when she wears that terrible dress and pulls her hair up and glitters up her face. The camera comes in close to her, from underneath (really?) and she says, “just breathe.” NOT the Drew Barrymore school of acting, which is a fictional place that Captain Awesome and I made up where actors go to learn how to fake cry, but never really graduate; they just make the whiny face and nothing comes out of those stinking tear ducts (sidenote: I saw a commercial, they have eye drops for that).

So time flies by faster and faster, and suddenly one day you realize that It’s been 2 months since you saw your best friend, and you’re not sure how that happened. People don’t even invite you places anymore because the chances of you going are pretty slim. You realize you’ve been devoting all your good energy to something you don’t love, and there doesn’t seem to be energy for things you do. Even at home, on my rare days off, I try to figure out how to maximize my time and still get a little time for myself. Why do I always come in last? No, second to last. My friends seem to always come in last. That sucks, and it’s not OK anymore.

I am one of those people who need time alone and in QUIET to really settle myself, and with neighbors like mine, goals I’ve set, and a boyfriend who works where we live, it’s tough to do. I really need to change my perception about a lot of things, so that I can enjoy the journey a bit more, and live in vacation mode for longer periods of time.

Today’s Song of the Day is

Why so Serious?

"...and Remember, This is for Posterity, So...Be Honest"

2010-12-15T15:10:00.000-08:00

How do you feel? We've been digging ourselves out of snowbanks for 3 days (see how hard he's pushing? That, children, is called leverage). The post I wrote on Saturday? Yeah, at 7am, at the START of the great Blizzard of 2010. The roof of the Metrodome collapsed, the cities pulled all the plows off the road because it was too dangerous, and Tim drove a sweet lady to work at the hospital. When he came home, he said it was like Armageddon; trucks and cars sideways in the exit ramps, countless cars in the ditches, insanity. She took an overnight bag. People on Facebook and blogs had all sorts of names for the blizzard: SnOMG and Snomageddon were my favorites. At the end we ended up with 22 inches or so, and then it blew all around in little snow tornadoes all over the place. You could hear it from inside the house (the call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE!!!) Incidentally, C. Awesome went through 3 snowblowers. Big ones.

So there you are. Now pictures. :)

Looks harmless, pretty even. But you can't even see where C. Awesome snowblowed...

Where are all the cars, Santa?

Our neighbors. I believe this is their first winter outside of Mexico. They shared their shovels with the Nigerians...Minnesota nice went international on my street.

Even the DOG had to put on his coat.

It went pretty well.

That's a lot of snow for 8am

.

Contemplating Ancestor's Opinions About Pointless Things.

2010-12-11T06:46:00.000-08:00

I decided to walk the dog this morning. It was against my better judgement and my principles of weekend blizzard activities. Today is a day to sit inside and bake gingerbread cookies, and at some point today, I will. You’ll see.

The news has been blaring warnings of 13 inch snowfall for the last 3 days. This excites me, as I have the weekend off (not like 2 weekends ago where the whole world was an ice rink and I slid through an intersection whilst a cop waved at me helpless…true story). I decided whether the snow falls or not, I’m locking myself indoors and baking my amazing soft and chewy gingerbread cookies. If the snow falls, I won’t have TV anyway, because I have satellite, and we all know what happens when a cloud passes over the orbiting metal box. Minnesotans never quite believe the weatherman anyway, and seemed pretty glib about it, only making a run to the liquor store before going home. This is another side of Minnesota I don’t get; quiet, Lutheran Midwesterners who swear in everyday conversations and think, “if it snows, I better go get some booze, cause I’ll just be home shoveling.” Incidentally, it snowed 8 inches overnight, and we’re supposed to see snow until 10:00 tonight. I only know this because of the weather texts sent to my phone, as my TV is…you guessed it; out.

After work yesterday I went and bought everything for gingerbread cookies (I hope), and a friend gave me 6 of her own chickens’ monster sized, fresh and fluffy eggs. I’m excited. But this has nothing to do with walking the dog. Captain Awesome had gotten up at 5 and gone out to snowblow; a tragic endeavor, as it all blew back as soon as he went past. I decided, since he’d been out working since 5 and I was inside drinking tea, I could be nice and take the dog out, a sheltie who LOVES losing himself in snow. I don’t get it; that low to the ground and having to leap everywhere. Maybe he hates it and is forced to leap, giving the impression of winter jollity. I don’t know. Are any of you a dog whisperer?

I got up, pulled my hair into a side braid, thinking about my lovely friend in Norway and a stupid picture we took together once, to show ourselves at our most Scandanavian. I pulled my hat down over my eyes and tied a scarf up to meet my hat. The dog was all excited, running in circles around me, looking for treats, and whining at the snow. This was the moment I realized that I had left my winter boots in my car for the last big snow, about a week and a half ago. Moral dilemma; do I call Captain Awesome and ask him to go get my boots so I can walk the dog? Do I tell him I simply can’t walk the dog and go back to my tea? Do I go get them myself and walk the dog with wet socks (I HATE wet socks)? I tried to wimp out, I texted him, but he couldn’t hear it over the snowblower. I went out the front door (a rarity, I don’t even have a key), walked along the once snowblowed sidewalk, trudged out to my garage (I am so thankful for my garage) and got my boots out of the car. I put them on in the garage and went on my way. It wasn’t so bad. Wind at my back, coat covered in white, dog leaping and bouncing through mountains of fluff. It was actually pretty cute. I started to walk down towards the pond, and the snow quickly climbed to my thighs. I gave in and fell. I really should have made a snow angel…I wonder why I didn’t think of that. Anyway, dog that he is, wouldn’t leave my side to go to the bathroom, so I got back up and we started back.

Ouch. The wind was no longer at my back, and I couldn’t see or hear. My mind immediately went elsewhere so I wouldn’t have to pay attention to the elements. I thought about how my Scandanavian ancestors would be so proud of me (not very likely…”oooooh, you went out in the snow….did you also eat rotten, 8 month old fish you buried?”), and how my Irish ones would think I’m nuts. The German ones would think it’s romantic, and the French ones…I really don’t think they’d care. No clue how my Cherokee ancestors would feel about me trudging out in the snow to walk a dog. Seems kind of small compared to hunting and surviving and the like. To my right, a noise pulled me out of my ponderings. Then I realized it was the sound of my snowpants, I just hadn’t been able to hear until I got to a wind-less place.

Poor Captain Awesome, still out there at almost 9, snowblowing into futility. Maybe I’ll make those peanut butter cookies with the Reese’s in them….I need Reese’s.
So I made it back home, came in the back door (because I had my boots!) and noticed that I had left the front door wide open in my snow-shock. Nothing like going for a 15 minute walk and letting all the heat out on a snowy Saturday morning. You know you’ve been there.

Today’s song of the day should be no surprise. I'm sorry about the way it looks. Grooveshark and I have had a serious falling out, and they now offer a lot less for a lot more work. And they don't save anything for you anymore. Boo.

Fall Morning Walk

2010-10-03T06:53:00.000-07:00

I haven't written for some time, as I have been quite physically miserable for the last 3 weeks or so. I am now starting to feel better. But that is another blog for another time.

It's fall. I can not deny it. Not that I want to, I love fall. I know it's a time of death and preparation for destitution, but it's so lovely. How brilliant it can look! To me it's more like a rebirth, a phoenix blazing with flames that will rise again.

I got up to walk the dog this morning and there was frost on the ground; sharp and rigid, yet soft, like manna that just appeared overnight. The sun was rising at the time, and created this fog over the frost. It was lovely. Of course the dog had no care, but to pee on it. Bygones.

The sad thing about frost is that it goes away so quickly. It creates a half hour of beauty, and then is melted away, dripping down into the roots in the grasses. If you get up too late, you will miss the sight of sun hitting frost, making fog. I don't know. It's just so magical; it makes you realize why people made up fairy stories and other magical tales.

I just had to share, because I love fall, and the first frost is kind of a big deal. I brought in a few of my plants yesterday, and have a couple more to bring in today. This brings up another item of progress; my tolerance of spiders. I hate spiders. Like many of you, they freak me out and the thought of them crawling on me is unbearable. I try not to kill them, but let them be. Last year when I brought in the plants for the winter (a sad happening; they always dwindle. It's like I'm sentencing them to prison, being inside), I got an influx of insects. They drove me absolutely batty, little gnat-type flies buzzing around my face. We started not killing the spiders, and lo and behold, our insect problem went away. I'm sure there is some genius way to bring in plants for the winter, like changing out the dirt, but you live and learn. So we have 2 spiders in the living room and one in the basement. Captain Awesome discovered the one in the basement that is a large, hairy, jumping spider. He came crawling out one day and C.Awesome pointed at him, making him curl up in that spider ball, and said, "you can stay, but you earn your keep." And I'll be darned if that spider didn't nod, and scurry back under the dryer. As an added bonus, the spiders are not eating the crickets, so we still have summer sounds in the basement. Nice.
So there you are; my randomness this morning. My stream of conciousness regarding fall, spiders, and life. And here are some photos from this morning's jaunt.

Today's song of the day is:

I just like the cadence, and it's about time for a change :) This song needs to be so much longer.

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride

2010-08-22T05:45:00.000-07:00

Last week was hot. I mean Minnesota summer hot. It was sticky, impossible to enjoy; the kind of day where you leave for work at 6:15am and you feel like you're breathing in water (this is the main reason I don't live in India today. I'm sure you were wondering). Of course my air conditioner in the car was on the fritz, and when I called the mechanic (the LOVELY boys at vroom), I wasn't even sure what to tell them. It went something like this, "It's working, it just doesn't seem to be at full capacity. Unless it is and it's just so hot I can't tell, like there's no winning in this situation..." for about 15 minutes, probably. Anyway, for you boys and techies, it was a pound low on free-on. Can we move on now? :P

I came home from work one day last week and could not wait to get out of my clothes; too hot to wear so many clothes plus an apron to work. I went to the kitchen sink to wash my hands (I love the way I turn clean water brown when I wash my hands after work...I really feel like an effective hand-washer), and there was a common toad in the sink.

Now, this shouldn't really surprise any of you. But what made this interesting is that I had just spoken with my dear friend, Didi. I was telling her how hard it is to go out to eat when you always go out with someone who is deathly allergic to onions. She told me about this little Indian place in Minneapolis on Central that cooks Jain food. Now of course I had to look into this, and to why it would matter to me (or C.Awesome, who secretly hates curry). Turns out, Jain is a sect of the Hindu religion that believes life in all of it's forms is valuable. They only eat sustainable food, nothing they have to kill to eat, even vegetables like onions and garlic (because the root is what you eat, and that is it's life). They live to never offend anyone and wear a lot of white. Apparently their version of Karma is a little different, but I can't remember how. So C.Awesome was intrigued by this idea, as it is basically the rules of his made up land, "Timtopia," with the exception that in Timtopia, if someone is a big jerk face, the rest of the people have the right to kill him...or something. It's self policing, I remember that much, and there is a lot of emphasis on underwater basket weaving. But I digress.

There was a note on the counter about there being a toad in the sink. Turns out, Captain Awesome had found the toad on the sidewalk, dehydrated, and unable to get out of the burning sun. He put it in the sink to cool it and rehydrate it. Cool.

As the day went on, we noticed that his right side had been crushed, apparently by someone stepping on him. He had a collapsed lung and his right arm didn't seem to be in socket. We are told we are hilarious when this stuff happens, because immediately we take action. C.Awesome went and found an aquarium, we put foliage in there from the turtle's terrarium, and real ferns from our plant collection. We tilted the aquarium slightly so there was water on one side and dry on the other. We researched online and found that often toads and frogs will heal if left alone, and may not eat for a few days. So we monitored him from afar and left him on the kitchen table. The next day C.Awesome went and bought crickets from the pet shop in case he got hungry.

The crickets immediately got out, except for a few larger ones. The toad didn't seem all that interested anyway, and when we began to corral the crickets back in, they crawled right over his nose and he didn't make a move. We kept him for three days, and he showed progress, but that right arm began to shrivel, and it was clear he was not going to have use of it. I did call the Wildlife Rehab Center and left a message, somehow believing that toads may be below their list of concerned animal rehabilitation options. They called me back the next day in a bored voice and left a message for me to call them back. Nah. They weren't going to do anything different than I was, and I've have interesting experiences putting Ferrel animals in cars and driving them around.

On the fourth day, we decided to put him out in the backyard and see if he was well enough to be free, or if we should bring him inside, but in any case, he needed sun and fresh air. As soon as we put him down, he began to hop around; his back right leg had completely healed and he seemed to not really need that right arm as much as one might imagine. He hunkered down in the grass and we watched him watch the world for a while. Then we put him safely in our garden where we knew there were other toads and went inside.

So now, a week later, I have two male crickets; one in the basement and one on the main floor. It's odd, having crickets in the house, but at least they aren't following me around anymore. I see no problem with it. In China they are considered good luck. I even moved my lucky bamboo to the southwest corner of my most used room. Apparently that should help me win the lottery, according to the ancient art of Feng Shui. :P

So I sit here, on a Sunday morning, with the patio door open, listening to crickets chirp in the basement, and birds chirping on the patio, and I am content. So, if your kid wants a pet, or your house is too quiet, I suggest you run out to the pet store and spend 2 bucks on a little pile of crickets. It's like camping all the time.

Today's Song of the day is

Because it's a great song, and it's by Toad the Wet Sprocket. And because I woke up with it in my head today.

And here's a Poem by Charles Dickens, though my toad fared better than his.

Can I view thee panting, lying
On thy stomach, without sighing;
Can I unmoved see they dying
On a log,
Expiring frog!

Say, have fiends in shape of boys,
With wild hallo, and brutal noise,
Hunted thee from marshy joys,
With a dog,
Expiring frog!

The Tick - Worst Thing on the Planet? Survey says....YES!

2010-07-10T05:58:00.000-07:00

Did I tell you I had a tick on me last week? I had a tick on me. It was on my lower back, and I thought I was going to throw up. Ticks may be nothing to you, especially you in the South, who find enjoyment in the hunt and demise of ticks; I lived in Michigan. I heard of ticks, but never once saw one, and I was quite the Xylana. If I were to ever be on the show "Fear Factor" (uh-oh, she just dated herself), I would have to go home at the site of multiple ticks. Ticks are only good on cartoons and TV shows, and I hope you get that reference (in my mind I am hearing the distant cry of "Batmanuel!").

I don't mean to be a nature basher. I love nature. Save the whales and polar bears. Heck, I don't even scare rabbits and squirrels out of my garden, and I have a nest of yellow jackets that coexist quite peacefully with me and my brood of pets. I even stopped killing spiders. But come ON, what is the biological reason for a tick!?!?! Creationist, evolutionist, alienist, I don't care what you believe, you can't come up with a good reason for the existence of ticks. Can you imagine being the creature that is known for spreading disease? Can this creature really exist just to "thin out" populations of animals and people? I shudder. SHUDDER, I tell you.

So, here is my thought on how ticks came to be.

Ticks were actually formed as spiders, but they lacked the desire to create webs up high where insects would be prone to become ensnared (evil is often lazy in this regard). They also felt the fine web material they released to be beneath them and thought other insects and arachnids would see them as feminine. They formed a posse and decided, for the good of the group, which of COURSE was inherently evil, they would breed with insects and take off the extra two legs of their offspring, as in a ceremonial mass bris type situation (this in NO way implies that Jewish people are evil. We are talking ticks, the bane of existence. I am not speaking in metaphor). After 3 generations of breeding with insects (poor insects...didn't see the ticks coming like Vikings across the sea), they lost their silk, and, having really no place to live, settled in low lying, wet and cool areas (this is the reason I am so happy to have a dryer today). They then bit each other in territorial wars, and realized they had a penchant for blood, but ticks really didn't supply enough (ohhh, they're vampires!), and they realized cannibalizing their own tribe was detrimental to the population (oh my gosh, a tick realized something! The horn of destiny honks!). They began their experiments of terror, biting and latching on to ducks and birds (can you imagine living off someone else's blood? Ewwwww). They would not be stopped (evil is often ambitious in this regard), and continued to campaign across creation for thousands of years, swelling to the size of golf balls (gluttony) and eventually dying of obesity (ha ha ha ha ha).

I have no end to the story, as there are still ticks, but my hope is that one day every tick in the world is attracted to a trojan horse of some kind, and they all latch on to eat, and none of them survive the engorging. I mean, seriously, with all these vampire books and movies, we actually have a creature that only dies when set on fire to implode. Wow, this post got kind of gross.

Anyway, I hate ticks. Could you tell?

Today's song of the day is Based on quotes from the Tick (the live action show from 2001), in an attempt to assuage my passion against ticks.

"You're on a first name basis with lucidity, little friend. I have to call it "mister" lucidity... and that's no good in a pinch."

"Gravity is a harsh mistress"

"Death. The eternal blink. The capricious dance of Now Ya Stop Movin' Forever. Well contrary to popular belief, death isn't just for dead people. It can happen to anyone. I know, it's news to me too. And it's not just people either, it's all kinds of stuff. Horses, fiddler crabs. Did you know that even a potato... can die?"

"When society says jump, we say pass the salt"

So, a snippit of a song. It's "Hey, Mr. Caution" by Eddie Constantine.

Hmmmmm. I can't seem to post the file. LAME. Like ticks. I will figure out something else.

well, here is another song. Today's song of the day is NOW:

Tales from the Pool

2010-06-28T14:29:00.000-07:00

You may or may not know that I have recently gotten back in the pool, the last time I swam was likely the last post you read about swimming. I enjoy swimming immensely. This past weekend I took my very first class ever: a water dynamics class. Yes, I was the youngest one there, good guess! The people were lovely, and the teacher reminded me of someone...in a movie...it will come to me. She was middle aged, brown mousy hair, black shirt and shorts, and a black excersise headband reminiscent of Flashdance. In the movie, I can see her, and she's really trashy with a cigarette in her mouth. Oh man, it's on the tip of my tongue!

The people were very nice, but there was some concern lurking in my mind about the fact that I was the only one who showered prior to entering the pool. One woman came in, and the familiar smell of ammonia wafted in my direction. This was worrysome. At least the other women smelled like Aveda products! :) No one else had wet their hair, they all wore makeup, glasses and earrings. I was severely out of place.

The class started and I kept up just fine. I never felt like I got my heart rate up, and I think the teacher was surprised she spent more than a half hour on warm-up. Her CD playing boombox kept skipping, then dying, then repeating...it was a long hour music wise.

Everytime someone new came into the pool, I would move so as to include them in the circle. The circle kept growing until we were 2 rows, one on each side of the pool. I was by the pool wall until the noodles on the ledge plugged up my sinuses. See, I have an allergy to mold and mildew. I was not excited about the noodles. I plugged away, and was fine once I got my noodle underwater, but the woman would forget to tell us when we were using the noodles and when we weren't, so I found myself doing all the exercises with the noodle, and she would giggle, "aaaaahh ha ha ha ha" in her high pitched voice, "we're not using the noodle now." Thanks a wahoo :)

Speaking of wahoo, there was an older gentleman in the pool who was a "wooter." This is a general term for someone who screams, "woooooooot!" Every time the words, "Double Time" are spoken. It was like a hootenanny, and he liked the music. I laughed a lot.

Anyway, I survived, spent 90 minutes in the pool moving the whole time, and never took any breaks. I love the pool, but it really dries out my skin and my hair. I bought a swim cap today.

So, I've been staring at the screen, and I cannot remember who this lady reminds me of, but it's uncanny. I can't place the movie. I hope you can. She sits with her hands on her knees, smoking, and sounds drunk when she speaks. I'm thinking late 80s, early 90s. When I think of it (and I WILL :P), I will let you know.

Today's song of the day, in light of my newfound pool hobby and the way I don't yet feel slim is from Veggie Tales. If you don't know it already, I'm surprised. Just push play.

Odd little Story

2010-06-27T11:32:00.000-07:00

Last night was one of those nights where it stormed a lot, you could tell, but pretty far away. Constant bright lightning and latent thunder with just a slow tapping of rain, as if the storm was actually being polite. I for one was thrilled, as it was a full moon, and the activity seemed to keep the bored, destructive teenagers at bay, like pacing wolves. The courtyard was pretty quiet and I had the window open. Somewhere in the night, a small dog called me out of my dreaming with a little “Yip.” Subconsciously I knew the sound belonged to a trendy dog name, some sort of “oodle.” I ran through the possibilities in my mind as he continued yipping in the courtyard. Labradoodle? No (yip!). Chihuahuadoodle? Is that a word (yip yip yip!)? What was that one I read in a magazine, the new one? It was like a dachshund and poodle, right (yip yip yip yip yip yip yip)? Oh, Dachsuhuahua, no poodle there. Boy that dog (yip yip) is annoying. Someone should tell that dog to shut up! Yip yip…yip yip…yip! Then suddenly, mid-yip, BAM! Lightning hit the park with an instantaneous thunderclap shaking the whole house. There was silence. No owner, no yip, no sound whatsoever. It was the only close lightning strike the entire storm. Against our nature as nature lovers, in our stupor we started laughing. Half conscious and imagining a smoke ball with a fluff spot in the yard, our cartoon side won out. We laughed hysterically and uncontrollably, describing the scene we thought may be left in the yard, and God laughing at this joke, this rogue lightning strike.

Today's song is (hee heee giggle)

Fish, Pork, Ice Cream and Criminality

2010-04-27T07:32:00.000-07:00

I don't even know if I should tell you this. Yesterday was ridiculous. Where do I begin?

It was my day off, but I went in anyway to make sure things went well for the evening-girl-who-is-me. There was quite a bit of stuff to put away, so I borrowed 2 morning stockers and had them help me (there was complaining, yes! How did you know?) Anyway, I got it all finished with a certain amount of satisfaction that she would come in and not have to worry about too much. I came home and decided to pick up some items for Thursday night dinner, which we are hosting this week. Captain Awesome gave me his prepaid card, and away I went.

I went to the grocery store that was farther away, to see my cashier buddy, Mary. Mary cracks me up. She has a crackle laugh, crazy barrettes tied into her short hair, and a height of about 4' 10". And I forgot she doesn't work Mondays. I was having a ball, though they didn't have my greek yogurt with Honey, I had to get regular. I got stopped by old ladies asking where the gravy was, and gave them a tour of the boxed dinner aisle (it's aisle 7, you know). Anyway, checkout didn't go so well.

I rang through all my items, and swiped the prepaid card. The lady asked to see my ID. I gave it to her, not knowing that the prepaid card with Captain Awesome's name on it had arrived. She immediately slipped into fraud mode and said she could not take the card. I said, "should we call him?" "Wouldn't matter, you could be calling anyone." So I said I had another card. Here's where it got ridiculous. She had already accepted it. So she called the manager over, who was also unable to void the transaction. They had to push it through, then take the card to customer service to refund the card, then charge my card the exact same amount. If I did not go to customer service and switch it all, they would have to assume the card was stolen and report it as such. Are you hearing me? The cops, on a prepaid card, on which I am an authorized user. People in line behind me were giving me "the look" and I was starting to feel pretty criminalistic. Since it had to be pushed through, she turned away from me, jerked her shoulder back and said, "I am going to need to you scribble on that again, to make it go through." Like I couldn't even sign a name. UGH! Humiliation! I didn't even do anything wrong!

I could have done this (does anyone else do this? Revisit the situation and say, "I SHOULD have..."

- I could have left all that meat and frozen food and just walked away. Have fun putting that away!
- I could have gone to the ATM and forced her to ring it all back up again.
- I could have said witty comments, pointing out the ridiculousness of a prepaid card being treated like a credit card and the way they pushed it through anyway.

Whatever. So I got home, put the groceries away with ire, and went with Captain Awesome to my workplace to pick up a few things. I saw the girl-who-is-me-in-the-evening, and walked over to say, "Isn't this nice? You didn't have to do all the lugging!" But before I could say anything, she was asking me who did this, because it was all done wrong and she had to redo it. So I really didn't help at all. Glad I came in on my day off to help. Sometimes it feels like it doesn't matter what I do, there is just no pleasing people. Why am I working so hard? Why should I care? Whatever! :P

What did I do after this wasted day? What any self respecting girl would do. I watched the new Chuck and ate sushi at home. And that was the best part of my day. Sad! :) I am done with THAT Cub Foods. I will stick to the closer one from now on. You should have seen the way she looked at me, like everything I said was a planned lie.

So. Anyway. The song of the day for yesterday is
The Steve Miller Band - Take the Money and Run, as I am clearly a criminal with intent to steal and commit fraud. Yes. That sounds like me.

Seems to Me That Angry People Have Imaginations...

2010-04-20T05:15:00.000-07:00

One day, not too long ago, I was sailing the sea of status updates on that ever-ridiculous, but seemingly necessary Facebook. After 3 pages of farmville updates from friends that I no longer talk to because of Farmville, I saw this random post, almost shoved in the middle of a barn raising and a lost manta ray in Seaville (the villes are getting out of control, people). It was from my friend in Georgia, and it said simply,

"Anger always comes from frustrated expectations. -Elliot Larson."

Since that day, that phrase has subtly stalked me, popping up and teasing me, like a snack I know I don't need, and I'm not particularly hungry, but is something I can chew. I pull up in my mind a time when I was angry, justified or not, and I find this to be true. Whenever I am angry, I am angry because of my frustration that reality doesn't look like the picture in my head. To be fair, I think the picture in my head is always the ideal; such as last week when I came home from work and Captain Awesome had planted the garden, not everything was in the pot I wanted, blooming. How silly; they are seeds, I can move them when they bloom, which some are already doing! But I digress.

Even when anger is justified, I think it comes from the same place. When someone turns their back on you, humiliates you, disappoints you, it's because of this picture in your head that you expected. You expected them to be a better person, you thought they really loved you for yourself, you expected them not to be so selfish or untrue. All of these things lead to anger (they also lead to sloth, depression, overeating, and lots of other things that will keep you on your couch for days...not that I know, or anything!). When Christ lost his temper in the temple, He expected the religious leaders to be generous and to follow the spirit of the law, not use it as a power tool over others, and He was angry. Why wouldn't He be? He expected better. Just like (on a MUCH smaller scale, not even comparable), I expected better yesterday when I walked in to a massive mess in my storage area that took me a while to clean up. I was angry, and I was right to be angry, but all that could really be done about it was to clean it up. My expectation was frustrated. I did clean it up and received commendation from my boss. Woot. :)

I started this blog out of my frustrated expectations; I expected I could walk into a job last year, and put it off. Then I needed a job, expected to get one easily, couldn't, and continually freaked out. I expected that my experience, perception and people skills would help me. They might have, if I could have even gotten interviews. I expected that I was more than a resume. I wasn't. Oh well, ce'st la vie. Incidentally, my pastor is looking for these stupid types of coping/anti-stress phrases...there's one (also acceptable: It is what it is, it's all good...).

I don't know the answer to this. Logic would say, "don't expect anything." How do I not expect things? I'm a planner. I can't even half-expect, because you do or you don't, it's like if you like curry or not. There's no middle ground there. Imagination, the unreasonable force behind everything good, also leads you believe that your life is going to be everything you wanted when you were 10. It leads you to believe when you're happy it will stay that way, when you're sad, it will pass. That is why there are mid-life crises, identity losses, and people who run away from their families and responsibilities; in their anger over their frustrated expectations, they leave for something better; no doubt something they have in their mind, an expectation. How's that work for y'all? I mean, no wonder people say things like, "he's a sensitive artist-type." Likely they can't make the picture on the easel look like the one in their head.

I don't know how I got on this, but there it is. I think that statement is a true one, and I have been trying to keep it in my head so as to not overreact or to keep a little logic. I'd love to know what you think.

Today's song of the day is a repeat from November. Sorry, I will think of another, but for now,

Open Letter to Young Girl Who's Journal I Found Strewn About the Park This Morning

2010-04-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Young Person:

I'm sorry some mean bully-type person found your journal.

I'm sorry they chased you around with it and read it out loud.

I'm sorry you were humiliated, watching your innermost thoughts and drawings be ripped out and
thrown into the wind.

I'm sorry that you feel like your life is over and you can never go back to school.

I know it feels like nothing is secret or safe, but it will be again, someday.

I know it doesn't help now, but eventually everyone will forget that you like Kyle.

I know it hurts, but eventually you will not think of it again until one day when you are 30, and you find some little girl's journal in the park and you remember how it felt.

If it makes you feel better, in the 5th grade, the Morin twins (Megan and Becky) tricked me on the playground; one of them picked me up over their shoulder and the other pulled my skirt over my head.

It is important that you "chin up" about this and know that you are a strong person. You must be; only strong people keep journals. Weak people just remember fun times and reminisce about them well into their adulthood, living in the past.

Most of those bullies will peak in highschool, and you will peak much later, for much longer.

Big picture, here, young person. In the long run, this will be a blip that you remember with some hurt, but you cannot let it define you or change who you are right now. Not all people are as horrible as elementary school kids.

Whatever they did to you, they did because they wanted to feel better about themselves by pushing you down; only you can let them make you feel bad. Be stronger than they.

Start a new journal; eviscerate them. Maybe keep it at home. Only you need to know about it.

Do not seek public revenge; that only makes you stoop to their level. Also, the likelihood that you will get in trouble rather than them is good.

Today's song of the day is for you. Actually, you get a playlist, little girl. You go.

PS: The butterfly song at the end might make you cry. It's good for you :)

Brew Me Up Some Twinings Tea...Do I have Twinings Tea? I can't find it in my sea of tea...

2010-04-17T06:46:00.000-07:00

I begin today's Blog with the following side note: Yesterday I cleared off all the pictures on my camera's card, in order to take more today. I took a few this morning for this blog post. Here I sit at 8:00am, and whlist dumping my photos onto my computer, I see the shocking number: 83. How did this happen? How did I just take 83 shots in the last half hour? Will I delete the ones that I think aren't great? Will I? This is today's blog.

I have long had this issue, for which I take more than a little cajoling, that I do not use everything I buy when it comes to food. I have this mentality of, "I need to have a little left in case there is a nuclear holocaust or emergency," or "I love this, and it's hard to find, so I will not finish it; then one day, when I REALLY need this taste, it will be here." Therefore, I have cans of fruit and veggies from 2004, I have 8 containers of honey, approximately 1 Tbs each, and I have this enclosed photo, an entire shelf full of tea. OK, OK, a shelf and a half.

The tea is really interesting, because today I decided to make a cup. This was my thought process:

-Oooh, I love black currant. But I got that in Ireland, and it's so hard to find.
-Oh! My tea from Austria with Elderberry (holunder! Something that was life changing and mind boggling to me, but likely means nothing to you)! But it's loose tea, and I don't know where my filter bags are.
-Hm.. This tea has never been opened. Organic Peach Detox...what is that? Can I drink it with toast? Probably not; I bet it's a fasting tea.
-Green tea...yech. Sick of it. What's all the hype again?
-I need to buy more Ginger Lemon tea; that's my favorite, and I only have 2 bags left. NO. NO MORE TEA. You must drink this entire shelf and a half of tea before more tea comes in to this house!
-My fancy, expensive tea from Mackinac Island...*sigh*. Same problem of no filter bags.
-Jason Winter's Tea. An herbal blend that only gets stronger, even after removed. I don't like it. But it reminds me of my fiance, who drank it as part of a therapy before he died. It would be wrong to throw it away. I wonder if anyone who has cancer would want it? (seriously, this is how I think...maybe I should have a garage sale for tea? Surely is an absurd idea...)
-Fine. Peach it is. Boring old peach.

So as I sit here drinking my peach tea and listening to the chickadees out on my patio thrash about in my pile of birdseed, I can't help but think that this is a problem. I'm not a hoarder or anything, but when it comes to food, I make all these excuses not to enjoy it all, and it inevitably goes bad, so I've missed out anyway. The tea is just one of many indicators.

Another example is that one day I was having a particularly hard day (for those avid readers of my blog, I refer you to the horrid day at the spa back in December of 2009). It was three days after my abomination of a hair cut and style (from a near GRADUATE, I remind you), and I was having a tough day at work (as tough as retail can get...). My friends located Bulmers, an Irish hard cider that I drank in Ireland with my newfound friends and locals, and adored. In the U.S. it's called "Magners". They drove to Minneapolis and brought me a six pack at work. My friend, Crystal, knowing me too well, also bought me a single bottle, which she knew I would keep on my shelf and never drink. She is so wise. That bottle is still on my shelf...as well as one in the fridge, which I had every intention of drinking on St. Patrick's Day, but instead sat at O'garas drinking Jamie-Gingers that tasted more like Jamie-Soda Waters. Oooh! I may have a photo of that too!

Not a great picture, but all the good ones have me and other people, and I don't want to assume it's ok to use them. I stole my friend's camera and tried to make a kissy face, but started laughing. I know, so unlike me, right? Hey! Back to the post, lady!

So I write now to admit this issue, and to address it in the following manner:

-I vow to get rid of any tea I don't find particularly tasty, even though I will feel SO wasteful to throw away tea. Don't ask me why.
-I vow to get "smart" selection of tea of no more than half of ONE shelf, such as Earl Grey, etc.
-I vow to drink it, not to use it as decoration
-I vow that if I have one bag left, I and do NOT drink it, I will put it in a tin, where no more than one bag of any flavor will reside.
-I vow to make LOTS of iced tea on my patio in the next few weeks and use up whatever I can.

Here's the rub. If I just keep this stuff in the hopes that one day I will really want it, when I finally eat or drink it, it will be stale and disappointing. You can't keep Manna, can you? It all goes bad. Even tea. *sigh*

Today's Song of the day is "Out in the Country" by Kristen Hall. For lots of reasons, one of which being the line in which she sings, "brew me up some twinings tea...tell me that you love me..."

Undercover Knitters Make Me Smile

2010-04-03T17:33:00.001-07:00

I came across this article, and it gave me a chuckle. Rogue knitters are ensconcing the city's trees and parks in knit scarves. I will let you read for yourself.

http://www.metro.co.uk/weird/816969-police-hunt-the-midnight-knitter-wool-graffiti-bandit

Ca-ve Thoughts

2010-04-03T07:04:00.000-07:00

I have had the same song in my head for 3 days. It's called The Cave, by Mumford and Sons. I heard it on my way to work the other day, and sat in the car to let it finish (thank you, 89.3 the current, a part of Minnesota Public Radio :P). The mandolin is amazing. I gotta have more mandolin.

Two lines from this song keep ringing in my head. Just stuck in there, on repeat, and I love it. How can a song capture so many thoughts with one line? "Let me to the truth which will refresh my broken mind..." What a great line! Their show here in the cities is at least 2 weeks away, and it's been sold out forever. I'm sure I'm taking the song completely out of context, but I just keep hearing, "I need freedom now, and I need to know how, to live my life as it's meant to be..."

The other thought that comes to my mind is a memory from Ireland. In Doolin, we took a cave tour. The longest stalactite in the Northern Hemisphere (or was is stalagmite...which one hangs from the ceiling? Stalactite)...We had to walk down almost a mile of stairs, and then walk up them. When we came out, the sun burning our eyes, and our lungs burning from the climb, Carolyn said, "Oh, I still have ca-vay on my pants." So when I hear this song, I think of ca-vay, and the climb out of it. And I gotta have more mandolin!

Here are a couple of pics of us and the ca-vay day. We all still joke it was the worst 13.50 Euro we spent. But we helped the economy in Doolin. Yay. :)

So there it is. The mulling of my mind over the last few days. Spring has sprung, and perhaps we are all coming out of our caves. Maybe we'll come out walking on our hands, and see the world hanging upside down. Maybe we're all backwards :)

Today's song of the day should be no surprise. The video link is below, as well as others. I'm a fan. Way to go, Mumford :)

And, we now know (almost a year later) that the banjo/mandolin debate is finished, and tied. He plays the Banjolin. Surprised you didn't know that. :)

Everything is Never As it Seems....

2010-03-28T05:46:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I have taken over leadership for the food section of my retail store. This is not all that exciting, but it is interesting. It's like a mini puzzle every day, creating spaces for new stuff, keeping everything else in order. It can be mundane (ie stocking), and the mind can drift, but I can't complain.

Yesterday I was stocking the Twizzlers Cherry Twists, when a man walked up to me. I greeted him as per usual; "Good morning. How are you?" I have to stop doing that, asking how are you (although if I didn't do that, I might miss out on oddly entertaining stories of outdated frat-boy-try, forgive the gummi word). He began telling me about the odd things in his day. People cutting him off, parked strangely, odd vibes from people all over the city, and he's driving a new car! It is an externally unknown fact about Minnesotans, that they cannot drive in rain or sun. They can handle snow just fine, but give them rain and the accidents are exponential on those days, and they all make stupid mistakes. It should be a case study for some doctorate student, because it happens every time. The alternative oddity is the sun. Everywhere I have ever been, sun makes people roll down their windows and drive faster, crank the music, have general merriment. But in Minnesota, drivers consistently keep their windows up, and slowwww dowwwnnnn. It's like hitting the power button on some electronic device, and listening to it wind down. I don't know where this thought process comes from, other than perhaps they are hoping if they trap all the air and let the sun stream in they will thaw, and they don't want to drive out of the sun? I have no idea, but I just want to "go baby go" when the sun comes out, and I always get stuck behind some frigid Minnesota-sicle. But I digress.

I listened to this man's story, actually interested (a trait I no doubt learned from my father). Since I was listening, he continued in sporadic, seemingly random statements, all equally entertaining. I will sum up for you in flowing language what I remember from this conversation.

"I haven't had a day this odd since I returned from the service in 1970. I got back, and picked up my buddy in my new 65 Lincoln (I think), and we went out on the town. First we went to get gas, and there was a woman in the lot trying to change a tire. Well I walked right up there and said, 'Hey darlin', why don't you let a real man do that?' Well she got up and chased me around the car, saying she was a real man and she didn't need me to do it. I didn't know what got into the lady. Then I look and see my friend watching me, laughing, and he's spilling gas all over my new car! So then he asks me where I want to go. I told him last time I came home from the war I grabbed my gal and we went out to this diner, so we went there. I walked in and it was like Heaven, all the girls over here, and all the guys over there. I hadn't ever seen anything like it, girls with girls and guys with guys. Some guy came up and put his hands on my shoulders, I told him 'that's dessert, and it's for the ladies!' Then he blew in my ear, and I had to break a bottle on the bar and point it at them to get out of there. I'd tell you the rest but you'd get jealous."

I laughed and said, "probably" more out of confusion, I think, but I really was enjoying the story. I realized though it didn't look like I was working so I asked him if I could help him find something. We started the walk back to the rear of the store while he continued.

"I got pulled over that day too, by a cop that I KNEW, even. He pulled me over on Arcade and asked me by my name if I knew the speed limit. I said 55, it was Arcade. While I was gone it switched to 30. I didn't know. Then he told me not to smoke anywhere near my car because it smelled like gas."

"How old were you?" I asked. It was his second tour, both times from the draft, and he was 23? I was unclear if he was drafted the second time at 22, or if he returned at 22. Not important. I thought that was quite young, but he assured me that was an "Old timer" in war years. Every few minutes he'd say, "wow, I haven't had a day like this since 1970, that's 40 years. Oh my gosh, that's 40 years!!!" It was funny to me, but I kept saying, "Stop saying it, it won't be so bad.!" He was fascinating. He used to be a talent scout for the Kansas City Royals, and the Mets. I really enjoyed our conversation. Incidentally, he came in for bird food, because he likes to see the deer come up with their fawns and eat. I thought that was nice, if not a little ironic, considering all I had just heard about him.

I started thinking about veterans, the wars. How different are things when they come home, and see for what they were really fighting and protecting? How much has this country changed since 2001, and what do our troops see when they come home that is so different? I work with at least 2 soldiers, both who did tours in Iraq. Things come out in little ways, like, "oh, we had that energy drink in Iraq. It's the desert, you drink what you can..." or "I woke up today, and there was 140 degree difference between here and Iraq. Do I miss the desert?" I find it interesting, but I wonder if it is like when I take an international trip and things remind me of it. If it is like that, it has to have so many more levels.

Anyway, that is my story. He has a friend who's son is a producer, says it should be a movie, or at least a scene. I'm glad I got the interest in people's story trait from my father.

Today's Song of the Day is

Fireflies by Owl City (a local group)

My Little Phenomenons...

2010-02-25T03:25:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a good day. It had little phenomenons in it. Wednesday is kind of my Monday, because I am off on Tuesdays...nevermind. Usually I am groggy and everything goes wrong on Wednesdays. I woke up, had a lovely breakfast with a friend I hadn't seen in a while, and went to Bath and Body works to pick up my splurge of "Twilight Woods" (clarification: this is not because I am a raging Twi-hard, this is because it smells AMAZING.) It was funny, b/c I had lent her the last 3 of my Twilight books, and she gave them back at breakfast. Then I found a random book in my car, and it was the first Twilight book, and then I had the stuff. I repeat, I am not a raging Twi-hard.

I then went to work and worked 2 hours, caught up on things, and had not much left to do (besides, they were having a hard time affording me), so I left and went to the gym. I put on my swimsuit and went to the pool, marveling that the scale said I was another 2lbs lighter (liar), and stepped in with one foot, when I realized I hadn't showered. I went back in, hosed off, came out, got in (everyone caught up now? Good). The pool was active, but not crowded, and then I realized I was the only female. In a pool that usually accommodates seniors, who I am comfortable with, 3 of these guys were young, upwardly mobile previous frat boys. Crap. So I did my thing. Whatever. Then 2 more came and sat there, watching everything. After about 3 minutes, I thought maybe if I vacated my lane they wouldn't watch. Yay! They just wanted a lane to themselves...the open lane wasn't good enough or something. So whatever, I went to the open lane, which was shared by 2 men; one in his early 40s, and one power walking 72 year old that just had back surgery. This would not be anything of note, except that 40's guy was the biggest splasher in the world. Both legs out of the water, arms hitting the water like a fat kid doing a canon ball, constantly spraying all of us in the mouth and eyes. One guy, as he was getting out, said, "please tell me I don't look like that." No. You look like the guy who wears skin colored shorts, bordering on Speedos, and likes to walk around in them (on the inside). I have issues with skin colored clothes.

Anyway, when things started getting even more crowded (with men), I stood in the corner and did yoga twists and stretches, treading water and doing pullups. 72 year old power walker (he's really fast...I can't keep up with him) mentioned I wouldn't get anywhere standing still. I acknowledged my self consciousness about being in the pool with lots of people, and especially men. He was not helpful. "Of course we look. We're old, not dead. Doesn't mean anything." Great.

So I left the pool eventually, proud I stayed my half hour, showered and went home. Captain awesome had some tailoring he wanted done, so I took some things to the mall for him, and went to Old Navy while I waited. I wanted some new Sweetheart Jeans, and they were on sale. I tried on the size smaller, with no hope whatsoever, and they fit! Really comfortably, but I could see my muffin top a little more, so I bought the same size I had. I figured I could buy one pair now, and when I was truly the next size down, I could get more. I found some tops, too, by some miracle, and left feeling pretty good.

By this time it was almost 4, and I hadn't eaten since 8:30. I was feeling really hungry. In a mall, what are my choices...anyone? I walked past the dairy queen with the karmelcorn, and THROUGH the entire food court, up to each vendor. And I didn't buy a thing. I was AMAZED at my will. I went to Barnes and Noble (yes, THAT Barnes and Noble) and contemplated the ease of soup (not much). I looked at all their pastries and was able to get out with just buying a water. I was on cloud nine. The lady offered me a fresh oatmeal cookie, and I said, "you know, I do want one, but I am so proud that I was able to walk past that cabinet." She said she understood and wouldn't suggest screw ups for me. Nice girl :)

I went home, noshed some almonds, went out with Captain Awesome to run errands, and hit my staff meeting at 8. And I had energy for it!!! And, I skipped the cake that was brought in. I rocked yesterday. Let's see if I can do this today too :)

Today's song of the day is the Hamster Dance. C'mon. Do it with me!

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/s/Hamster+Dance/RrUj0

What's That Gym? Time to Go See You? Snooze button?

2010-02-20T05:16:00.000-08:00

So I haven't written in a while. This has come to my attention by various readers of my blog, some of whom I did not know exist. While I have been busy and falling into new routines, I still love to write, and miss telling you stupid stories about what I am up to. Not that it's all about me...but it is in here, actually.

So this week I started swimming again. I love to swim. To feel light and airy, to watch the waves break before you, to move along silently while under the water everything is moving. I used to swim all the time. Yesterday during my laps I remembered the summer I learned how to swim at Interlochen Arts Camp, under the tutelage of Twink, a lovely woman that is no longer with us. At Interlochen there were 2 places to swim. Safe in the shallow area and out past the buoys, where I was certain life was terrifying. You had to take a 15 minute swim test just to go out past the line of buoys. In my 5 year old head it was another world. If I have a regret about this, it is that I never, not once, took the 15 minute swim test to see if I could do it (to be fair, I thought if I tread water for 15 minutes, I would be too tired to swim back in, and I would drown). But I digress. One day, Twink took us all out to the raft to test our skills in swimming. We had to jump off the raft and swim about 8 feet to her, waiting with her arms open to catch us. I was the last one in. I climbed off the raft backwards, and turned around in the water. I ducked underwater and swam to Twink, looking for her suit in the water. What I actually saw was murky water with algae growing from the bottom, but I remember so clearly in my mind how it looked like an aquarium; coral and tropical fish, sunlight cutting through all the clear blue water to highlight an anemone. I will never know why I remember it that way, but I do. Anyway, due to the murky water, I couldn't make out Twink's form, until I ran into her bosom, floating out halfway of the suit, which DID look like an aquarium. She was so proud of me, and I was so proud of myself, but that was the last time I was out that deep in that lake.

These thoughts came to me yesterday as I was swimming the length of the pool at the gym, using the breast stroke and chasing the ripple in front of me. It was so Zen to make the ripple, see the ripple, chase the ripple. I just focused on that, and I never needed a break.

My first return trip to the pool was not so lovely. Tuesday I decided that I was going to go to the pool, no excuses. I packed a gym bag and put my suit on under my clothes so there would be no drawn out preparation that could deter me. Funny how something like this can make it feel like junior high all over again. I checked in and took look at the pool; full. Ugh! I will still do this, it may be less busy by the time I get out, I told myself. If I walk out now, everyone on the ellipticals will see that I checked in and walked out. I walked into the locker room and didn't know where to sit. I chose a place and took off my shoes, socks and pants. Then I sat down and stared into space as the motivation conversation began in my head like the angel and devil that sit on your shoulders (you know the ones): oh no. I didn't shave. I can't go in the pool. And my skin is so dry, what is chlorine going to do to my skin? I can't do this. I don't have a swim cap, my hair is going to turn green. I should really go. Then the other side started to state its case: You're already here. Your suit is on. No one will notice your legs. You will feel so much better when you are done. You love the water. You're going snorkeling in 17 days, you really need to be able to stay in the water. You'll never be ready if you don't take the first step... on and on they went while I sat in my shirt and stared off to the right. After about 7 minutes of this, I looked up and saw the same look on the face of the woman sitting across from me, clearly having a similar conversation in her head, but in Hmong. We both sat there, unmoving in our swim suits, staring, clearly terrified of taking off that shirt. It was then that I went to autopilot and stood up, taking my shirt off and heading to the showers. I dug deep to find that confidence problem I have, in that I am OK with myself on most occasions. Fake it til it's true, right?

I came out of the shower and saw that she was also coming out of the shower, and I followed her to the pool door. She went out and immediately turned around to go back inside the locker room, passing me on her way back in. I stopped and turned around as she turned to give me a helpless look. I squared my shoulders and said, "can we do this?" and she straightened up her back and said hesitantly, "yes," and then disappeared back into the locker room. I got in the pool, which was not much less crowded, but worked out OK with 2 older men power walking and talking about their Bose radios and some converter to record DVD movies onto VHS (What???? WHY?). A lane opened up, and I left it open, hoping my commiserate would see it and come out. After about 5 minutes, she did. She swam to the other end of the pool and stood in the corner in the sun doing stretches and kicking up water. In an odd way it motivated me to just keep moving. I only spent a half hour in the pool, but I kept moving. It didn't really seem odd to me until I told my friend about it and she found it fascinating! :P

So, I went back on Friday, after calling my friend and asking her to remind me that I was NOT, in fact, too tired to go to the gym, and how great I'd feel after (and I did). The scale said I was down 2 pounds from Tuesday, but I don't believe it. I don't know how it could lie, but it is.

So, today's song of the day is twofold;

This song because it was on at the gym, and I just really like to move to it. But it's not how I'm feeling, I just love the beat.

But, in honor of my lame attitude I have about myself, and the stupid extent to which I need to motivate myself, today's song is:

I once again Embark (HA!) on a Dogsitting Adventure with Mr. Henry Magoo...MUSH!!

2010-01-23T05:07:00.000-08:00

Many of you know I sporadically dog sit for my friend, Crystal, opening our doors to Mr. Henry Magoo, whom we have known since puppy-hood. Henry is a lovely dog, and our dog plays with him often. They know when they are within a mile of the others' house, and they both just....well they frenzy, really.

As my best friend has recently jetted off to Ireland (without me!!! In a show of good sportsmanship, I gave her the phone numbers and info for all my friends, and their bands, and where they are playing during her trip. See? Good sport, me!), Henry is at the house. I forget how he is so enamored with the aging, loud and irritable cat. It must be quite a sight for him, to NOT win someone over for once.

This morning, after Henry woke me every 4 hours to go out, or to revel at the cat's hissing, I took him and Ed out for a walk at about 6:30. Sometime in the last 12 hours, for that is when I last ventured out into the great tundra of St. Paul, a soft rain fell, then froze in a layer of ice about 3/16" thick on everything. Everything. What this means for you, dear reader, is that the streets of St Paul are currently as smooth as if they had just been caressed by a Zamboni. I should have worn my ice skates, but I opted for my boots. I try to imagine the look on the faces of the people driving by as I mushed these two dogs on long leads of 20 feet. Arms flailing, feet unsteady as I was pulled along ungracefully by a Shih-Tzu-Cavalier mix (i.e. lapdog) and a sheltie (size of lapdog). I was laughing so hard, I had to cut the walk short and let them run without leash. It was almost funnier seeing them slide all over the place.

It reminded me of this great news story by Jana Shorthal, here in the cities. She put on ice skates and went down the street in minneapolis. Here's the link, the video is on the right side, and it is AWESOME. http://www.kare11.com/video/default.aspx?bctid=60508402001

Today's song of the day is tricky. I could focus on the fact that I didn't sleep much, the house is a mess of couch cushions and dog toys, the cat is constantly hissing and clearly holds me accountable for the dog intrusion, and the basement is flooding, due to a blocked main under the house. Meh. Let's reminisce about mushing behind a shih-tzu.

Orpheus in the Underworld, by Offenbach
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Offenbach+Can+Can+From+Orpheus+In+The+Underworld/5938270

My Morning Epiphany; Thanks Google!

2010-01-06T05:03:00.000-08:00

So, funny story. I just woke up and rolled out of bed and walked in to the office to write an article about cheesecake. First, as is customary, I checked my email and calendar. The oddest thing showed up on my calendar. Today, at approximately 7:13am, I am scheduled to have an epiphany. I have no idea how that got on my calendar; I'm sure I didn't write it. Maybe Google is trying to encourage me. Is it April Fool's?

I better hurry, I only have 6 minutes before my epiphany. I should prepare. But if I prepare, it won't be an epiphany (was THAT my epiphany?). Epiphanies, I am told, are sneaky creatures that are hidden under the mundane, and they are found by wandering around talking like Steve Erwin ("Todaiy we are liooking for the elUUsive epiphanay, croikey!"). Hm, that may not be right...

Oh, sad. Epiphany passed. I guess it was that you can't rush an epiphany. You rush an epiphany, you get rotten epiphanies.

So there it is, the comical start to my day. Hope you have one too! I still have to write my article and take a shower before work. That's life!

Today's Song of the Day:
A Happy Working Song, from Enchanted

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Happy+Working+Song/6311472

SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!! I just found out what it is...it's an Italian Holiday called Befana, or Epiphany. An old woman comes and delivers toys like Santa, on January 5th. I didn't know I had Italian Holidays in my calendar, but thank you to my Italian friends....in Ireland :) I love you.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Befana

Auld Lange Syne

2009-12-31T17:54:00.000-08:00

So it is New Year's. Meh. I have all the goodwill and mushy feelings I should have at this time of year, but let's face it; it's another year. I'm still in debt, I'm working a lot, and today was a stressful day. It started when I burnt my toast. I decided right then and there, standing in the kitchen at 6am, that I was not going to have this kind of day. Burnt toast days are the worst, and I decided just because I burnt my toast did not mean that my day was going to go this way; like a Monday on steroids. After a day at work in which I became a bit overwhelmed and stressed out (I had to give myself a time out at one point), I came home, and Captain Awesome, who is using his last personal day of the year today, was home relaxing. We had a nice afternoon at home, joking and talking, watching a little tube. For dinner he made lobster tails with Caesar salad and champagne (not real champagne, I can't handle it and I don't really like it. He bought Toad Hollow Risque, which is like an amazing dessert wine with bubbles. I LOVE it, and it's what I had last Christmas, when life was not so hot). And yes, we cooked with the new fancy pot! Woot! It is easy to feel blessed right now on the home front. The lobster tails were a nod to the Japanese New Year tradition of decorating with lobster and lobster themes, representing old age with their bent over tails. Yay, we were festive! :)

I also was reading about Portmagee, Ireland, which still holds an annual tradition brought to them by French Sailors a couple hundred years ago. The villagers watched, awestruck, as the sailors embarked on land, and an old, decrepit man walked slowly up the hill at midnight, at which point he fell over, apparently dead. Then from the crowd, a sharply dressed, spry young man pounces, signalling the New Year, while the old year has died. I kind of like it. I have never really thought about aging until this year (thank you, 30), and time just seems....different somehow. Anyway, here's a cool link to that story... http://www.moorings.ie/Portmagee/Portmagee-NewYear.aspx. Check it out, it is actually very interesting, and the story (surprise surprise) is told well.

Thinking about New Year's and Ireland, I think about my friends and family all over the world, knowing that in each country where live the people that have had such impact on my life live (Norway, Ireland, Austria, Germany), they are all kindred spirits, and even though we are far apart, I love them. I miss them, and I would love to be spending this time with them. I've been thinking of Auld Lange Syne a lot lately. How it was written only a few hundred years ago, by my beloved Robert Burns, and how no one even associated it with New Years until the end of the 20s (and by noone, I mean Americans). And how no one really knows the words. Here they are now, for your enjoyment. In the Scottish-English, and Parochial English :)

This is copied from http://www.electricscotland.com/burns/langsyne.html

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
Chorus
For auld lang syne, my jo,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,
And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,
Sin' auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd.
Sin' auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak' a right gud-wellie waught,
For auld lang syne. For auld, etc.

A translation from the Scots Independent

auld;old lang;long syne;since
auld lang syne ; days of long ago
pint stowp ; tankard
pou'd ; pulled
gowans ; daisies
mony ; many
fitt ; foot
paidl'd ; waded
dine; dinner-time
braid ; broad
fiere ; friend
willie-waught ; draught
owresettin

Should old friendship be forgot'And never remembered ?
Should old friendship be forgotten,
And days of long ago.

And surely you will have your tankard !
And surely I will have mine !
And we will take a cup of kindness yet,
For days of long ago

'We two have run about the hills
And pulled the daisies fine :
But we have wandered many a weary foot
Since days of long ago.

We two have waded in the stream
From dawn till dinner-time :
But seas between us broad have roared
Since days of long ago.

And there's a hand my trusty friend !
And give me a hand of thine !
And we will take a large draught
For days of long ago.

It is a nice sentiment. Friends who have known each other for years, drinking and trusting, enjoying each other. This is where the goodwill comes from, and whether or not you know the words, the feeling and sentiment is the same; remember the past, cherish those around you, and look forward to prosperity and better times ahead. I like it. I won't miss this year much, but I am grateful for what I have learned, and what I have seen in my own life. Health and Wealth and joy to all of you. God bless, and No Worries.

today's song of the day is two-fold; Auld Lange Syne, which you can find yourself. Also, Matt and Kim, Lessons Learned. I like the cadence, and I like the "close your eyes and use your mouth and tell me about your song" part :)
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Lessons+Learned/21999520

Plants: How they Inflict Identity Crises, or Possibly Reflect Them

2009-12-26T08:00:00.001-08:00

I have plants. I have had plants for a really long time. As of late, I have felt defeatist about my plants; I saw them be so fruitful over the summer while outside, and when I brought in a select few, they dwindled. I lost my sage plant, and came close to losing my mint. I felt like, "what's the point? They don't like it inside, let them die." And I ignored them. I didn't water them. And they looked sadder and sadder. Consequently, among all the dead leaves there rose a dust problem, as well as a small insect infestation (except for the one VERY large moth that hatched somewhere in the house, presumably from the sunflowers we brought in to harvest and left in the basement....yes, I have a lot to learn). This morning as I took stock of the state of affairs in plant-land, I saw the sun peek out behind the clouds. I decided that the root systems of all the plants (except the sage...sniff! I LOVED the sage; I named my blog after it!) were all still intact, and that my plants needed (as well as deserved) a little TLC. I set out to remove all the dead leaves off all the plants, and then decided I should cut off all dead parts to give the living parts a chance. I got out a pair of scissors and a box from Christmas for all the debris. I started with the mint. It was like watching Wall-E. So much dead, I just pulled it over the side and snipped it. I was snipping along when I noticed that there was, in fact, new growth under all the death. This poor plant had been trying to break through the barrier of death and malnurishment to prove that it was, in fact, still living. This gave me new resolve to attend to all the rest of my plants as well.

I spent the morning trimming, feeling bad for letting things go so long, and hoping that out of this extreme cut back, new life would be able to thrive. Of course, as typically happens with gardening, I started thinking about my life. As the new year comes (I have never been one to make resolutions at New Year's...it seemed a losing battle, and the beginning of the year always felt like September, due to my birthday, and school, etc), how fitting that I trim back the death that surrounds me? Do I feel like I am a plant that thrived outside, but now that I am inside (am I inside?) I am withering? I look at my plants now, and I still feel a bit sad, but they are cut back, neat, there is no layer of dust and dead leaves sitting on their soil, they are very Feng Shui. I know that they will have a chance to live now, new growth can come; they won't have to use all their resources trying to nourish a dead branch or rotting pepper. I think about the things that I could cut out in my life; each of us has them, though no doubt they are different. I am slightly addicted to the food network, and HGTV. I could probably stand to spend time with my boyfriend or myself, rather than staring at the TV. It has become a friend, which can't be good. Also, I hold on to things that I suppressed, such as feelings that arose from an unfortunate incident about this time last year. I go through my life imagining that I have simply forgotten it, when I know I haven't. Those are dead things; it does me no good to hang on to them, even subconsciously. And the trouble with supression is, while it can be a helpful tool at the time, in time you forget the good stuff too, because you do not allow yourself to think about any of it. How many memories have I lost? How would I know?

It was a strange feeling, trimming the plants, wondering if I could be so much more than I am if I could just trim back and be nourished properly. Have you ever had that? You do the most mundane thing, and suddenly you have a new perspective on your life? Like the sheep who gets sheared; no doubt the first time they are frightened, and I am sure they always dread it a little bit, but it grows back, and they are still alive. That sheep could well have become veal or mutton. Maybe the sheep focuses too much on the negative, or the fear, or the death, and not enough on the fact that, even after a full shearing, they are able to go back out on the brae and eat the grass, wander around, and be sheep. Full, satisfied sheep, living to their potential, whatever that may be. It may be a little cold at first, but adapting to the elements comes with the territory.

So that is my thought today. Perhaps I need to see myself as a plant, and realize that I may be malnourished or self-neglected. Perhaps I could trim out the things that inhibit me from my full potential and see that in order for new growth to occur, the dusty, dead leaves need to be shaken off, and my wool sheared, so that I can live the life I was meant to. Live (I hate ending sentences with prepositions). I just hope that the shearer or the trimmer doesn't have allergies to my dust, as it can really irritate the sinuses!

It would appear that this is a crossover Blog Post for Sage Grasshopper and Wandersheep. Sorry!

Today's song of the Day:

Looks Like Love, by Need to Breathe

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Looks+Like+Love/3020028

Clever, Clever Boyfriend!

2009-12-04T15:11:00.001-08:00

While reading the news, I read an article about a baby being born at 30,000 on MSNBC...quips the boyfriend: "The Mile High Cub." Clever!

Whilst Trying to Feel Pretty, I Ended Up Looking Like a White Trash Version of Tanya Harding: I Want My Day Back, Spa!

2009-12-03T15:23:00.000-08:00

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

I've needed a haircut for a while. I made an appointment at the Aveda Institute in Minneapolis, where spa grade haircuts are available for $15.00, instead of the usual $35. The best part about this is the great smell of the Aveda products, and the scalp, neck and hand massages that come with the professional grade haircuts. I secretly decided to get a soft curl perm, so that I could finally have curly tresses that didn't fall out after an hour. I can't tell you how excited I was about this. When I told my boyfriend, he winced. "A perm? Are you sure?" Silly boyfriend, perms aren't the poodle inducing image they used to be! I am getting a soft perm with big fat curls that fall beautifully around my face. I'm going to feel pretty. And I'm not going to tell anyone else, because they are going to be blown away by me finally looking beautiful, my hair not matted to my head. I arrived at 12:15 for my 12:30 appointment. Let's count the red flags, shall we?

I sat and read my book until 1:15, when I was called in for my appointment (1); when I sat down, she asked me what I wanted. I told her, and I told her that I wanted a perm so that my baby fine hair would actually hold curl and volume. She told me it would be best to perm my hair first and then cut it (2). She called over her professor, who told her how to roll my hair in preparation (3), asking if she knew how to do a brick roll (4). He also told her to cut my hair first. After a quick wash with NO scalp massage (5) and no towel to keep me warm or dry as I walked back to her station by myself (6), She piled all the hair on top of my head and made 2 snips (7). An hour and 15 minutes later, my hair was finally in curlers (8), with a second pass to put in picks to hold it. She pulls out the perm box and starts reading it (9), as if she just bought it at the Piggly Wiggly (10). After a 10 minute wait, she finally mixes the first 2 ingredients and calls over her prof (a different one (11)), to check her brick roll. The prof looks at me, down her nose and over her glasses (12) and says, "why are you getting a perm? If you use V05, Pantene, Suave or Aussie, you're hair won't hold it. You have too much wax build up." (13) I told her my hair has been this fine and smooth since I was a child. "Weeeeelll, we'll try it, but it may not stick. You can come back for a redo, but that's all we'll do for you." Who the f*** are you, lady, and why are you in my space??? Do you have any concept of SPA day, or pretty, or something nice to do for myself? I looked at her and said, "then why are there curlers in my hair? Where were you an hour and a half ago?" She quickly smooths over, "oh, well, let's just continue on..." "Well what SHOULD I be using?" I ask. "Anything Professional" she says. Oh gee, thanks. The "stylist", who graduates on MONDAY, then doused my head with the perm solution, ignoring the top and front (14) and stuck my head in a shower cap for 20 minutes. During that 20 minutes, I start reading the box. According to the box, I should have had the next step up perm, not the one she's giving me, and I should have a heat source on my head. I bring it up, and she says, "I have only ever done 1 perm." (15). (16). (17). So 20 minutes later, she takes me over to the sink, lays me down on all my curlers and rinses my hair for 10 minutes, forcing water down my back and drenching me. After we read the box together for the next 3 steps (18), all of which involved some sort of torture of me, whether it be squeezing the sharp curlers into my head to blot dry while sticking her finger in my eye (19) or having me sit in awkward positions resting on curlers, we take the curlers out and go back to the station, once again with no towel, and my back drenched into my underwear (20). We get to the seat, and she starts picking through my hair, pulling it out (21). She says, "Oh, I forgot conditioner." So she starts putting in hair gel and mousse, which are obviously the same thing (22). Then she doesn't see the curls, so she starts trying to tease my hair, yanking and pulling (23). I looked like a drowned rat, and that is NOT an exaggeration. When my bangs finally dried a little, she cut them. Too short and chunky (24). she flops them off to the side without even combing them and they start drying kittywampus (25). Then she calls her prof over to sign off on it. I was like, "WHAT? This is done?" The prof says, "hmm. Maybe we should dry her hair a little, it's still really wet." I say, "I really don't like my bangs, they are chunky and sticking out everywhere. Can we round brush them? I need them to blend in." She does round brush them, but they end up looking like an entirely different entity than the rest of my hair, and she frizzes out the front of the right side of my head in the crossfire (26). So, as she has done dozens of times in the last FOUR AND A HALF HOURS (that's right, it's almost 5pm and this point, and I got there at 12:15...(27)), she douses my head with water from a spray bottle. I am SERIOUSLY waterlogged by this point, and still soaked and freezing from all previous dousings and rinses (28). Aaaaaaand, my bangs go back to looking kittywampus and I go back to looking like a drowned rat (29). I don't know what was worse, because without conditioner, it was frizzy and white trashy wavy. I muster up the courage to say, "I still don't like my bangs. I just need them to blend." Her response to this is to cut all the way down my entire right side, so that it doesn't look chunky anymore (30). So now I have 2 uneven sides and nothing tapers, and I won't bore you with the other things that made me cry all the way home. She calls over her prof, because he has curly hair, and he can tell her what to do with my bangs. He comes over and his answer to this issue of how terrible I look is, "Can you go home and play with it? Can you fix it yourself?" So, to sum up: I spent 4 1/2 hours to look like a drowned rat, spent $60.00 to do it, and I am supposed to go home and work with it, and come back if it's not flowing. RIGHT. She took off my apron, and I was shocked that I was done. The logic: if we keep messing with it, it's only going to get worse. NICE. So I go down to the lobby, she refuses to give me the survey about my experience, and she HAS to show me product for her course study. The looks on the other customers' faces said it all: "I'm so sorry! Did that happen here?" I got out to my car, threw my hair into a ponytail and texted my boyfriend the following while crying hysterically: "I'm not sure how to get out of Minneapolis. On 4th and Central. I'm on my way home. Can we please not talk about this? Ever?" I didn't even return my movie from Redbox, because I refused to go in to the store. I'd rather pay another dollar. To add to my pity party tears, I didn't get ANY of the massages or ANY of the great smelling products. That's the WHOLE reason to go there! (eheh, eheh ehe eheh...cough cough....hate my life!!!!)

So. My day of beauty ended up being a day of pain (beauty is NOT pain, stop saying that!). I was insulted, embarrassed, and spent money I didn't have, because I wanted to feel good about myself. My best friend texted me and asked me out for dinner. I called her back bawling, and told her it WAS that bad. I finally convinced her after the story about the way people looked at me in the lobby. And Aveda graduate, let me give you some advice; do NOT show me the picture of what it is SUPPOSED to look like. Don't do that. Thanks to Elle Woods, I know that washing my hair in the first 24 hours deactivates the ammonium thyglocolate! So there is 60 dollars and 5 hours down the tubes. I want my day back! I came home with my hair in a pony and a hat on. I'll be doing that for a while, because I guarantee THIS will be the perm that actually sticks, even after washing, which I am not supposed to do for 48 hours? What happened to 24?

Today's song of the day is:
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Just+Like+A+Pill/22521998
Just Like a Pill, by Pink.

Just the Chorus. Angry girl music....mmmmmmmm. Rated PG-13, if your kids listen. It'll be better tomorrow, when this is all a memory. Sorry! I feel better, though! It's JUST HAIR! :P

And How Was Your Black Friday, Dear? Mmm-hmmm...

2009-11-28T06:18:00.001-08:00

Black Friday. What a name. Who came up with this name? It sounds like the start to the next great depression. Black Friday is an excuse for retailers to make money hand over fist by offering lower prices and opening their doors at ridiculous hours the day after Thanksgiving, hoping to lure in the turkey-ridden, dopamine infested public. If they did that every day, sales would be more level, people could shop around their work schedules, and nobody would die. I'm just saying.

I had the pleasure of working my first retail Black Friday since 2002 this year. I actually don't even remember working Black Friday in 2002, so perhaps it is my first retail Black Friday ever. It was a real adventure this year. Our store, thankfully opened at 6, rather than the insane 3, 4 or 5am that other stores offered. I arrived at 4:45, knowing that if I showed up after 5:30 I would not be allowed in until after the 5 hour sale (which may be a blessing, except for the suspension that would follow). I parked in the employee lot, 40 acres away from the front door and trudged toward the side door. How amazed was I to see the lot already half full? Cars running with (mostly) women drinking hot chocolate, and even a devout 45 or so people sitting outside the doors in their foldable lounge chairs, wrapped up in blankets and hats (no doubt things they were planning to buy)? Right before I got to the door, they all started to get up. Right. Then I saw that I was actually supposed to go into another door, farther down with a guard and a deadbolt. Hallelujah! That was close. So I go inside, put up balloons, and wander the store, seeing where all the "hot" items have been stocked. About 5:30, a woman comes up to the guarded door, pleading with the guard to let her in because her daughter needs to go to the bathroom. She is persuasive enough (hint: she told the guard that the girl would pee on the ground and he would have to clean it up...classy, huh?) that they were let in. The woman immediately abandoned her child and filled her arms with Holiday items. We didn't even have the cash registers on or cashiers to ring her up, I don't know what she was thinking. They were again kicked out, and lost their place in "line," I can only guess. So we continue to prepare, the lot continues to fill, people parking on the grass, on the street, at the gas station a quarter mile away. Our parking lot is set up poorly anyway, in a triangle shape where blind sides abound, and merging doesn't go well. This day people were actually parking so as to lock people in. The logic in that I am still trying to find.

At 5 minutes to 6, we were told to stand in the main aisle, so as to help guests as needed. Stand and point. Don't point. Stand and direct. For 5 hours. So we all took to our stations and waited. When the doors opened, the scene was epic. Like any country invaded by Hannibal, soldiers standing steady, watching the tide of running soldiers advance, complete with elephants in their pajamas and bedhead, who clearly didn't have time to stop and put on their bras. The earth shook, and as they all ran into the store, 98% of them turned left, and raided the Snuggies. Yes, yes, the item of choice after waiting outside for over an hour, is the Snuggie, a fleece blanket with arms. People loaded up their carts with Snuggies overflowing, and ran to the checkout. The first hour, there were no empty carts in the store (not even drywall carts) and the line reached to the back of the store for the checkout. No one thought to go outside to the garden center, where the cashiers sat lonely, drinking cocoa and no doubt laughing at the scene. For 5 hours, I stood and pointed the mass of people that blocked the aisles, items literally flying off the shelves. Pallet after pallet emptying and being removed. I marveled at the year. How all year people have been cutting back on everything because of the economy, and yet, they still find money to spend for Christmas. One by one, the radio sang out the next item that was sold out, so that we could update our ads. "2 foot summer sausages. Large Pet Beds. Wii Sports bundles. Fountains. Coffee Makers. Bakeware." Not that it helped. We ended up saying, "if there are any, they are over there..." etc. And that lady in the gray pajamas with no bra is just SO sure that there are a few in the back. Well, there aren't.

5 hours after opening, the store was back to normal; all the seasonal items gone, back to home improvement. The poor contractors that came in to do their normal business had a tough time. I sent them all up to the Garden Center for quick checkout, after a few jokes about "regular shopping" on a day like this. Most of the customers were funny, at least the men, who were no doubt dragged out by their wives, some of them with their mouths hanging open, following like a slow zombie. Some would try to make small talk while their wives careened through the aisles, leaving their cart behind. "Who got to stay home today?" They would ask. Noone. Everyone works today. This is the Holy Grail, buddy. This is where we get to show the economy we can survive, for a day. Whenever 2 people would go by, each with ShopVacs in their carts, I'd do a play by play, as if it were ShopVac Races. Only a few thought it was funny. Wit goes by the wayside when commerce is on the line.

So, I survived. My best friend came in to see me, and thankfully took me out to lunch. I was really hungry, but I was not about to go move my car just to come back! No way. People were parking on the sidewalk in front of the door. The cops were called more than once. It. Was. Chaos. I left after 8 hours, doing the bare minimum, out of exhaustion, and went home, took a nap, and went out for dinner, where I told of my exploits to the people who are not brave enough to go out on this, the holiest of shopping days. And yes, I was asleep by 8. I missed Monk. Again. :)

To my fellow compatriots in the Retail Biz, I salute you, battle well fought. Here is a photo so that the rest of you can understand just how it is, and how we get a front row seat to the freak show. And how suddenly popular and needed we are :)

Today's Song of the Day is:

Crazy Frog, Crazy Jodeling http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Crazy_Jodeling/1165386

Because, while I am completely excited about Christmas, I am finding much more joy in the Hope of the real Christmas. And this is the perfect soundtrack to Black Friday...especially the "bam bam"s that are randomly thrown in.

Screw you, Amex!

2009-11-14T06:58:00.001-08:00

So I got up on Saturday morning, and went to pay my bills. And it happened. The last credit card I have, the American Express, the "good guys," have increased my interest rate by 6%, because of the economy, and through no fault of my own. How depressing is this? Every time I make a plan and think that things might be able to improve, I can finally get out of debt, something like this happens. I have no option of opting out, I have no choice, and even if I close the account, the interest rate will stay hiked. Boo hisss!!!! I'm PRETTY sure "the economy" has been tougher on me than it's been on you. Thanks for the heads up.

Today's song of the day (in honor of breaking up with ANOTHER credit card):

Gives You Hell, All American Rejects
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/artist/The_All_American_Rejects/401910

short

2009-11-13T12:56:00.001-08:00

If you wonder why I haven't been writing so often, here's a good statement that nearly sums it up:

All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind. - Aristotle

Ever feel like jell-o when you come home? :P Nobody cares.

Moon Over My Hormones...

2009-11-13T11:58:00.000-08:00

Oof. Last weekend I fell victim to one of the world's classic blunders. I was very hard to deal with. It would have been laughable, if I wasn't so out of control. Now it's a little laughable.

I spent the weekend entirely irritated, then irritated because I was irritated. Nothing my boyfriend said or did was right, and I made sure he knew. This all stems from an hormone pill gone awry that affected me days later with an uncontrollable bout of fake PMS, on top of which was the issue of me not sleeping at all on Friday night. I was resentful because I get up for work at 4am, and never see the sun. By the time I get home I'm sleepy or it's rainy, or whatever. I was resentful I had to work all weekend, I was resentful that I was going to have to bow out of our church's Christmas program because of my new schedule and transitioning into a new position. I was resentful that the floors just don't stay clean. I was even resentful that my boyfriend went grocery shopping without me, and he bought me ice cream, wine and flowers to make up for my mood. Maybe I didn't want those things! It was not so much fun for anyone, least of all me or him. I thought about writing, but I knew it would just come out whiny and pouty, so I kept my fingers to myself, knowing I was overreacting, but feeling totally helpless about it.

Monday I texted my best friend with some sort of comment like, "I think I need to have a cry day and get this out of my system. Can we get together for a PS I love you day?" I learned she had also had a horrible weekend and we both just gushed out, "I MISS YOUUUUU!" As soon as we got on the phone. So I decided I would keep it all in, and have our day together Thursday to cry it all out, because that is what PS I love you is for, seriously.

Tuesday, I finished work and went shopping for the few items I needed that Captain Awesome didn't know I wanted to buy. I came home exhausted, carrying my 4 bags of produce, and set it all down to lock up my garage. I picked it all back up, stepped out into the parking lot and twisted my ankle on a landscape rock that some children had strewn about. Everything went flying. Imagine the cartoon of this, cast me as an old lady, and see everything flying through the air; cucumbers, grapefruit, apples, bananas. Memory flashes went careening through my mind; I was four, and I wiped out on my bike in front of my piano teacher's house. I can imagine the feel of the dirt in my mouth and the taste of the Popsicle she gave me while she cleaned me up, grape. Peter Griffin, sitting outside after falling, holding his knee and spending way too much energy and time making pain noises; "Ssssssssst. Aaaahhhhhhh!" for 5 minutes. And the old staple for me, "don't cry now Wait for it." I sat in the parking lot, rubbing my knee and feeling 4 years old, knowing it was skinned (at what point do we stop being proud of our skinned knees and see them as a child's injury?) through my jeans, and decided not to cry. OBVIOUSLY all my neighbors are going to be at their windows watching me. Obviously. So I gathered up my now bruised food (poor me!) and walked to the house, keeping my composure by a minute measurement. I opened the door, and Captain Awesome was sitting inside, all happy because he had just connected with a friend he hadn't seen in over 10 years. I immediately changed the entire environment in the room, unable to postpone my pity party any longer. He jumped up, and I told him I tripped in the parking lot, tears streaming down my face. I blurted out some nonsense about my bananas being bruised, and my apples, and how I felt like a little kid. He tried to distract me (like a child, I might add :P) by picking up some gloves that were lying on the table. "Look honey!" he said, "You got nice new gloves for work, that was good, right?" And in between sobs I inform him that they are the wrong ones and I have to take them back. "And (heugh) I have to wear (heugh) gloves because I (heugh) don't (heugh) feel (heugh) like (heugh) a (heugh) girlllllllllllllllllllllllllllll!" Which only made me feel more stupid, so I immediately followed with "I am ONLY crying because of my knee right now!" Yeah, that was better. Shwew; I almost lost it there.

He let me cry like a baby, offered to take me out for dinner that night, and told me to go sit out in the sun for 15 minutes with my turtle. I can't BELIEVE how much that helped me. I had no idea I had Seasonal Affect Disorder, with which I am self diagnosed :) How else do you explain it? Brain tumor. (I know you're thinking it too: "It's not a tumuh!") I took a nice long bath while watching Grey's Anatomy and took a nap. Isn't that what kids do?

So, long story short, I was reminiscent of that Everybody Loves Raymond episode in season 4, where Deborah has that horrible PMS. It was great. When Thursday rolled around, I didn't really need a cry day anymore, but I took it anyway. We spent the whole movie waiting for Jeffrey Dean Morgan to show up, so we could say, "yes please," because he is soooo cute. She's awesome. And yes, I cried a little bit. It's what I watch when I need to cry!

Anyway, I am back to my old self, mostly. Bright sides everywhere, not freaking out because the dishes are in the sink or the dog ran away from me instead of to me when I called it. True story, I grabbed the leash to take the dog out, but when he saw it, he ran away. So I (very dramatically) threw down the leash and said, "FINE." That's got to be a sign of something. So when I'm whiny or being unreasonable, I say to myself, "nobody cares." It gets pretty funny after a while. Or I cough like a kid playing sick and whine, "I hate my life!" But mostly, nobody cares.

So today's song of the day is the song I listen to when I need to cheer up. It's my favorite song.

Galway Girl, by Mundy
(this was written by Steve Earl but I HATE his version. It's better to hear it in a pub, live. Plus I love Mundy. This is actually better by the accousticats, but it won't let me put in a song I have on my computer as an mp3. Plus, Sharon Shannon was a friend of my dead fiance's, and I don't listen to her for that reason. Nothing against her, I just will NOT associate that song that I love with that experience...even though she plays this version with Mundy. Fine. Whatever. Nobody cares.)

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/search/?query=galway%20girl

My Week: An Experiment in Avoidance, and How Futile that was

2009-11-01T05:30:00.001-08:00

Hello, Reader.

Did you think I died? I didn't die; I've been practicing my avoidance techniques this week. I just didn't want to hash out decisions I was making or tell you what was happening, because I felt defeated, and I wasn't really being realistic. But, everything is fine now, I guess. :)

I was offered a position at work at slightly higher pay, but I would have to work every other weekend. Coincidentally, this came the same week I joined the choir and orchestra at church. So I had to decide if I wanted to work and make more money, or stay in the choir. I don't know that I really have to choose. I don't think I do, but I may have to bow out of the Christmas program, which would be sad. But then I wouldn't have to try and get down the rhythm of this gospel syncopated version of Handel's Messiah that I am struggling with (in more ways than one). Anyway, I asked one of my managers what the hours would be like, and then I asked the other and got different answers. So I told them to talk on Wednesday and discuss my options, and we would talk about it on Thursday. Trouble was, on Thursday, my status had already been changed. It's fine, I was going to take it anyway. I have been staying a working about 35 hours a week anyway, and who knows how long they would be able to be that flexible with me, to let me stay whenever I want? Plus, if I'm going to be staying that many hours a week, I may as well get paid more for it. So it's all good, I just haven't had to work weekends in a few years. And it's only every other, so I can plan around it pretty well. Of course, the weekend I travel to Tennessee is one, as is the Christmas program at church, and all the rehearsals, but if I switch to the alternate weekend, I have to work with Team Member Valkyrie all the time, and that's just not going to be OK. It will be fine.

The reason I struggled so much is because I felt like Jim on The Office, when he was deciding whether to take the #2 position. If he took the job, then that was his career, his job. I felt the same way. If I take the position, then I'm here, and it's harder to work around it, and when people ask what I do, I have to say I'm a sales rep for a home improvement store. In my mind I can see Jon Lovitz in the movie Rat Race, jumping up and down screaming, "I don't want to work at Home Depot!" And I don't, so...

Anyway, forgive me for staying away, I just didn't want to hash all of this out on my blog, even though that's kind of the purpose of the blog. Plus my pastor's messages have really been kicking my tush lately, and while I'm sure he'll get a kick out of hearing, "Your messages have been really brutal lately, and I want to say thank you, but I don't, cause it's messing up my life..." I have only gone so far as to write on his Facebook page how he's kicking my rear. I suppose that would be the ultimate compliment for a pastor, but somehow it sounds a little...bijou. We'll work on that. Plus his whole house has been sick.

Anywho, I did have a day on Friday where I just got together with my bestie (forgive the gummi word) and watched Irish movies, ate Chinese and brownies and reminisced about our trip to the Emerald Isle, and that was lovely. Like an in-home spa day, complete with heat packs and toe separators :) I love my friends. When you lose a size because of your work, it's totally fine to pig out for an entire day, right? It reminded me of when my mom came down to visit me in Florida after the death of my Fiance. We decided we needed a break from the grieving family (let's face it, grieving families do STUPID things to each other), and we rented some movies and went to the store. We had the most comfortable King bed back at the hotel, and we just wanted to veg out (gummi) and take naps. All we could think about was getting back to that bed. We had both been so stressed, and didn't want to get out of bed for hours, so we bought whatever we wanted, because we just wanted a little of this, and a little of that. When we got back to the hotel and laid it all out, there was ice cream, grapefruits, candy, Chinese, candy, candy, candy, muffins, you name it. The whole table was covered. I wonder if she still has the picture. We did just eat a bit of this and a bit of that, but it became a TON of stuff. We had to share with the amazing staff at the hotel, who gave us beach balls and SWAG in return. Good times. Good times. Sometimes you just need a day like that to refresh yourself. I think this might have been the first day I did that since...well since 3 weeks ago when we did it with Pizza and Peanut Butter M&Ms....moving on... (in my defense, this is a VERY rare occurance. 3 weeks ago was the first time this year). Plus, here I am again, having taken a day to do NOTHING. Or 2.

So I was out walking the dog this morning, who scared up some crows in the field. They started screaming at him, and it made total sense how old crotchety women got the nickname crows. I could totally picture this old woman screaming at the dog. I watched FIDO the other night, in honor of Halloween (since I don't like scary movies unless they are funny, Shaun of the Dead and FIDO are about it for me). If you haven't seen it, FIDO is a zombie that becomes the family pet. There was this old woman in the movie, and she was an old crow. And now it makes sense. And now you're riding my stream of consciousness, which I normally save for my penpal, not for my blog, but there it is.

So, I have to go get ready to get my rear kicked again by my pastor, who is noble and good and won't settle for ritual-oriented, unreal people, so I leave you with the song of the day, which is:

Caedmon's Call: Hands of the Potter

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/search/?query=hands%20of%20the%20potter

Ugggh... Brutal. By the way, I'm starting a new blog about my faith questions, ups and downs. It's personal and really hard to write, so you should know that it is not meant to be disrespectful, but is based on the thought that true faith is a seeking faith, and no question should be off limits. It's called the Wandering Sheep Diaries, and I haven't published any of it yet, because it's not easy to admit I think this way sometimes. I wanted to have it published by the Wander-Sheep, but it appears I can only publish as Sage Grasshopper...unless anyone out there has any tips on that :)

Tales from the Re(tail).

2009-10-21T15:06:00.000-07:00

Hello, dear reader.

I don't know if you've ever worked in retail, but let me tell you, it is a surreal world, one where customers can sexually harrass you with no recourse, and where your management really wants to make sure you're properly trained, but there's just so much to do. At my particular store, the interactions are often bizzare, I usually start looking for hidden cameras. Examples, you say? You must have examples now? Ok.

-Every morning the inflatable Santa looks like he took a bender and passed out in the Christmas trees. He has to be propped up for the air to inflate all the way. It makes me laugh every day, and my new buddy in that department shares in my amusement, asking that I not fix it until after he comes in to work. No problem.

-Someone asked me where some piece of inventory went, and I didn't know. 15 minutes later, they walk by and tell me where it went. I say, "Oh good, thanks for telling me, now I know." You may think the response is, "surely," or "you betcha" or something equally serene. No. The retort is a snappy, "well, I'm just TELLING you, I thought you'd want to know! Geesh!" There have been times where I am caught by a customer or coworker with a bewildered look on my face, trying to fathom what just happened. Honestly.

-99% of the customers who ask me for help end up standing there while I read the label in front of them and tell them what they want to know. They just need me to stand there and read the back of the bottle. What?

-85% of the customers who come in looking for window and door treatments think I can solve all their problems, even though they don't bring me any information about anything. Then they get angry because they don't want to cut their own plastic. They use words like "asshole" and "Greedy stupid bitches," which I know aren't aimed at me, but c'mon! Is it really such a hard thing to believe that doors and windows are different sizes and so hard to cut your own measurements? Why are you yelling at me? That guy you called an asshole for ignoring you? He was on break, and you walked in to the breakroom to ask him a question. He didn't hear you because the of the iPod. True story.

-I have received more sexist comments and gross pick up lines than anyone ever thought possible. Really terrible ones too. I actually thought I was going to get my butt grabbed today, and turned my body. How wrong is that? Can I sue a customer for sexual harrassment? Someone get me a law student, get me Elle Woods! Am I supposed to take some kind of pleasure in the fact that some gross old guy thinks I'm cute enough to offend so entirely? ick.

There are a lot of rules, that you learn as you go. Here is a small list of some of the first rules I've discovered.

Rules of Retail (so far):
-The customer may always be right, but the team members get the last word....after they leave.
-Just because your coworker is a nice-looking lady in her mid forties, doesn''t mean she's nice. She will flat out ignore you, and sigh and throw stuff around when irritated (not even Team Member Valkyrie!), making you feel very pariah-like.
-You will get injured. Pretty much every day.
-Don't extend your knife all the way.
-Politics exist, on a scale yet to be invented.

The Song of the Day today is:
Angry People, by the Barenaked Ladies
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Angry_People/7476882

Classic. I win, they don't drag me down. They make me laugh :)

Just Can't Seem to Get it Right Today

2009-10-13T07:53:00.001-07:00

Hello, dear reader. I apologize for my absence. I have been picking up more hours at work (to quote my coworker, "I have a pile of bills 1/16th of an inch thick!"), and this last weekend I was dog sitting a dog I've known since puppy-hood. He's not one for sharing attention, especially with computers or other living things, and he definitely doesn't understand that sleeping people don't give attention to dogs unless they howl and flop around like an attention-starved starlet with the back of her hand on her forehead.

So today I was going to stay and work longer, make some money. I had the best intentions, and I seem to have a TON of energy on Tuesdays (a phenomenon which I am willing to investigate and extort) when, 15 minutes into my shift I had a comical but devastating incident. Thinking about it now, it is funny, and I hope you find it funny too. In my head it reads like that insurance claim about the guy with the bricks. I've told my manager that I will set up the paint machines every morning (I may as well tell you I work in a home-improvement store; the secret is out. Everyone from my old work knows, and seem to be coming in to check on me. Fabulous), so that she doesn't have to come in a half hour early just to set it all up. It's fairly simple. Purge the machines, check the color levels, etc. Today I was filling the white colorant when I decided it would go faster if I punched a hole in the bottom. Before the can was empty I could see that the color was getting full, so I moved the can to the next machine to fill up that white container. Clearly I had forgotten that I had punched a hole in the bottom, and a trail of white paint was following me to the next machine. In my haste, I dumped the remainder in the next container, only to see that it was the wrong color. My manager hath oft told me this would be grounds for a royal hissy fit. I caught it after only a couple of drops, so no harm was done. I bent down to clean up the paint I had trailed on the floor, and hit my forehead on the counter, getting white paint on my face. I quickly cleaned up the floor and disposed of the offending canister, spraying all the surfaces with a powerful degreaser. I got the paint cleared up and decided to clean the counter. I safely sprayed a paper towel with this wonder-solvent, but it was on stream, rather than spray, and it sprayed back into my eye. I cannot tell you the amount of burning that is involved in this venture. I do not recommend it to anyone. I went to the drinking fountain and rinsed my eye, then, wet, bangs dripping, with white paint on my face, went to ask where the eyewash station was. What was that? Was that embarrassing, you ask? Ohhhh, not compared to what came next. I went to the eyewash station and bent over the fountain of saline solution, when the dock worker told me I had to stay there 15 minutes. 15 minutes, in a busy receiving area, bent over a fountain with my butt hanging out in the world. Everyone walking by wanted to know what happened, and I couldn't tell them, because of the odd sensation I was drowning. It was a high tech Neti Pot, I tell you. So there I am, snot pouring out, eye still burning, hanging my backside out to the world, trying to breathe, alienating those around me who want to know what happened (Minnesota Nice: Asking for the details while one is still in the process of dealing with it...Minnesota Nosy, more like) because I can't speak. Good times. I did NOT go home, however. But I did leave when my shift was over, rather than staying for more hours. I just want to shut my eye!

The good news is I can see. I have a minimal amount of blurriness, which is slowly subsiding, and all I can feel is a bit of a burn. Could have been worse. The ironic thing is that when they showed me that degreaser in the first place, they said, "this right here is your best friend." Ummmmm, no. Not so much.

The morning did not improve. My mineral water and juice concoction exploded on me, going all the way down my shirt and into my pants, my shirt buttons kept coming undone, making me the Mae West of the general area. I dropped a 6 pack of Catfood on my foot. If it could go wrong today, it did. I thought it would be best to just get home, close my eye and hide from the world. The only thing that went well was that I didn't cut myself with the box cutter, as per usual. What am I doing here? The HR guys keep asking me that too, but that's more because I seem so smart and overqualified. Maybe if I do well enough soon enough I will not have to be a grunt for long, but on the upside, I'm a size smaller and I'm getting some upper body strength. Ha!

This job cracks me up. I can't help but find things funny about it all the time. For the first 2 weeks I thought I was socially awkward, having been out of the world for the better part of a year, then I realized a lot of my coworkers are a bit on the awkward side, leaving odd pauses or rambling about seriously trivial things, like their granola bar preferences. The small talk gets really funny. I was thrilled to find out that one of my coworkers watched Family Guy last week, so when I asked him about it this week he had not seen it. He watches SpongeBob Squarepants. What? What is the best response to that?

There are a million more stories like this, and just as many that come from the customers. I will share them with you as I can remember and see. I better hide from the world, before I ruin another remote or laptop keyboard with spilled something or other. Oh yeah, it's all happened.

Today's song of the Day is

Joe Purdy, Just Can't Seem to Get it Right Today

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Can_t_Get_It_Right_Today/8231261

It's snowing again, for the third day in a row. Here are a few implications of the snow:

America: Land of the Panic Attack

2009-10-03T06:12:00.000-07:00

I present to you reasons why I don’t watch the news anymore; it feels like America has become one big dysfunctional family, and the news is the doomsday, overprotective mother. I will watch the news, if I want to see what it is I’m supposed to panic about. Or if there is a story about a waterskiing squirrel. No wonder why so many people are suffering from panic attacks and disability.

Here’s a small list, from the last few years:
-War in Iraq
-War in General
-Obama and his healthcare plan
-Swine Flu (why are you still calling it that, news?) – Minnesota Hospitals and doctors offices took a new take this year, asking all Minnesotans to stay home if they think they have the flu, and don’t come in for help. Same with schools and daycares, and guess what’s happening? Schools are down 50% in attendance because a kid has the sniffles, and the subsequent absenteeism in workplaces makes the parents panic about working in this economy. Which leads us to:
-The Economy
-Unemployment Rates
-Terrorists
-Nuclear Bombs
-Natural Disasters, such as flooding, quakes, fire, storms….basically everything they used to call “Acts of God.” It’s probably better if they don’t call it that.
-Random violence among the youth and in the schools
-Gangs
-Workplace violence

I feel like the news is that daily call from an overprotective, horror-story-for-everything mother; “Did you hear that some woman just murdered a pregnant woman and took her baby!?!?” Add that one to the list. Fear and panic gets ratings, I know. Maybe I should go into business writing about happy fun stuff…like Chicken Soup for the Soul or the light side of news….oh wait, that’s already being done.

I think about panic and how it is not just an American Institution. Religion, National Leaders from all countries, the medical community, they all thrive on panic, because it keeps things rolling. It’s a great motivator. How unfortunate. I am much more motivated by goals and encouragement, but I never see that on a public scale. I’d work for those people. :D

There was a woman in the news (ha! Here we go) from Minnesota, who ran away with her 13 year old son after he told her he didn’t want to go through chemo again. They hunted the two down, vilified her in the news, and a judge forced them to go to chemo. So many people called her neglectful, tore her apart, but I knew what she was feeling. To see someone go through chemo once is hard enough. You inject your body with poison, hoping to kill another poison. The added sickness and weakness that comes with chemo is terrifying to watch, and I have no idea what it would be like to go through, I just pray I don’t ever know. This child (no one seems to remember he’s a child) wanted to live out the rest of his life happily, with good quality, not spending his last year on earth stuck in bed and throwing up all the time. She loved him enough to try and do that. So she ran away with him to hide him. Maybe she shouldn’t have done that, but when a pompous doctor, who, let’s face it, DOES NOT HAVE A CURE, but tells you to subject your body to this horrifying poison a second time or he will take you away from your family, put you in a foster home and still poison you, what is the best response to that? Doctors don’t have a clue when it comes to many diseases, and their response to illness is generally, “let’s try this. Let’s try this. Let’s try this.” I went to the CNN website to read people’s comments on this story, and I was heartbroken, the way people were throwing stones at this woman. Then, they interview a doctor, and he flat out says that this woman ran took her son away from a cure, that he is saddened because he’s holding all the answers in his hand and she has refused them. A CURE. Apparently this guy has cured cancer and failed to tell anyone about it. He’s the savior of this kid and she’s the devil for trying to let him live his life, however long it may be, as he wants, with happiness and some semblance of normality. Since he was 13, he was a minor, and the guardians were not allowed to refuse treatment on his behalf, nor was he allowed to refuse treatment for himself. Doctor (24 year old kid who has swallowed whatever he’s told) knows best. So this kid gets forced into chemo a second time in 3 months, with no hope, no feeling that it will help, totally depressed and with no faith of healing. Yeah, that will get the job done. Good on ya, doctor.

I didn’t mean to digress on this. This situation made me so furious, obviously. I just have issues with the panic and judgment of this country. Not that it is better anywhere else, but America seems to revolve around public gossip and humiliation and judgment, and it’s a little distasteful for my pallet. How many times have you seen the news, where there is a 30 second blurb about, say, a mosque full of men using their wives outside as a human shield (or sacrifice), only to spend the next 4 minutes on Tom Cruise or Brittany Spears? I tell you, it makes me sick. So if I seem like I don’t know what’s happening in the news, I likely do, but I won’t get my news from TV. News, like healthcare, is a BUSINESS. It’s about the money and the attention.

This all came about because of course, someone I know has the sniffles, and immediately everyone is freaking out. Yes, panic and lock yourself in your house with Airborne and Emergen-C, that will protect you. It makes me think of the plague, but we’re not witty enough to make a nice little nursery rhyme out of H1N1. But, we’re not quarantining the sick and the well together, so we got that going for us.

This reminds me of the song by Panic at the Disco: The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage. But that’s not the song of the day. Don’t worry. It also reminds me of the Weepies: This is Not Your Year. But that’s not the song of the day either.

For my money, I will take my chances. I have never taken a flu shot and I never will. That too is a business, and business from panic is good. I will trust in God and Fate and let science continue to think they’re both. Wow, I am cynical today! I apologize. I don’t know why that happened today, but I feel better, having written it. :P

I didn’t start off cynical today. Hmmmm.

Today’s Song of the Day is
The Weepies, The World Spins Madly On
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/World_Spins_Madly_On/185470

I Find Things That Irritate Me: I Laugh at Them

2009-10-01T15:00:00.001-07:00

So I haven't written in a few days. Thank you to those who send me emails and Instant Messages, prodding me to write. There doesn't feel like there is a lot to say. I still feel like I'm in a holding pattern, waiting for something. I got an email from one of the real estate offices to which I applied on August 20th. I emailed him back. We'll see.

Here's the travesty (photo) of the day: I went into a store last week, on September 24th, and this picture is what I saw. I then found out they've been there for more than a week! That's just sad. No Halloween, no Thanksgiving. Christmas in a recession, starts at Labor Day. Smart.

I feel more and more like we need to get out of this place. My boyfriend's job is getting more and more frustrating. He has an injury that he got on the job, but is still working everyday and overtime. And all his coworkers and bosses do is complain and demand more than they did before the injury. No clue how much money he is saving them, no idea how hard he's trying to keep things "normal" for them, while he is in so much pain. It's like they went on a mission to try and make him quit, because they know he has to be fired over his injury in order to get Comp benefits. The man is in so much pain, and all he gets is complaints and demands. And now he gets disciplined for every little thing also. You can see the company building a case against him. Nice. Good work environment. It's so hard to watch him go through this every day. I just pray for a new situation in life, a chance to leave this one and go somewhere else. And healing, and wisdom, and peace. Life is just hard right now. I look forward to the day when the people complaining actually have to get off their butt, put down their joints and do something, because he does it all, and he pretty much does it for me, for which I am trying to not feel guilty. It adds to the worry that I've been feeling. He's amazing.

Having said that, in many ways life is good. I've gone from helplessly looking for work to helplessly watching him get trampled and abused. I'm a helpless creature, and it's probably better if I know that. I went to Grace Church last week (if you get irritated by peoples' faith, look away now), and the message was all in Colossians 1, where it talks about identity. How people go to church and are nice to other people because they think it will win them brownie points when they die, and how many of the religions of the world are based on human teachers who teach this. I agree, loving your fellow man and living a nice life are important, but at the end of the day, it doesn't earn you anything. All it does is give you, as the tryer, peace of mind, which seems selfish and not self denying at all. Religion is all about advice. Do this, don't do that. I've learned I cannot give advice and change someone; I can't even change myself. This leads to toleration of others' faults. The professor teaching made an interesting comment. He said advice doesn't help, even if it's nice. If you're drowning in credit card debt, and your friends say, "just get a job that pays a million dollars a year," that is not very helpful. I think toleration is good, but I wonder if I love them.

I don't love my neighbors. My actual physical neighbors. Even now, my couch is shaking with their children running through the house on these crappy support beams that resonate on either side. The screamer is at it again, because it is almost dinner time, and the children are impatient. I have been thinking about the idea of loving your neighbor this week. This is the sick sense of humor that God has; love your neighbor, but you can't pick them. Love whoever I put next to you, whether they love and respect you or not. Crap. Crap crap crap. Why? Why can't I say, "I love you" to whomever is there (someone check my grammar there)? Why does it have to be the next person, who is so seemingly horrid to humanity? I heard that love is wanting the absolute best for someone else. No, I don't do this. I wait for the day where they will have to face the way they live, all the while ignoring my own faults. Same thing on the road, I want to see the jerks who cut me off crash, and that's not wanting the best for them. There has to be a middle of the road, where I don't make excuses for their bad behavior, I don't wish them ill, and it doesn't feel like a free pass for someone to walk all over me. I have this saying, when people are jerks in stores or on the road. I look at my cohort and say, "they are more important than we." It seems to be the obvious statement they want to make.

I am glad to be working with my hands, even if it is an easy job and it's not quite making the bills. It's close. I enjoy the customers, I joke around with them, and my coworkers are wonderful. Today I was told that I should leave all 5 gallon drums, and let the guys do it. What gentlemen. Works out for me. I have earned the nickname "Crash," after my run-in with my cohort in a previous post. I wish I could say things are getting less embarrassing, but being a klutz and carrying a box cutter is just an invitation to hilarity. Luckily, I've only cut myself and only once. Today I had to unload a dog house for a large dog. As anyone else would do, I tried to put it on my head and carry it over that way, like those women in Africa. It fell and messed up my hair, but luckily no one was hurt and it didn't break. Also, I made my first disaster today, moving the wrong boxes, and causing an avalanche. Good times. Good times. If you're good at Jenga, send some pointers my way. :) Letting the customers in at 6:30 is a bit unfair, though, when I have Irish pub songs in my head and don't know where everything is. My manager is nice, and also newer to the department. She brings in donuts and runs to McDonald's. Soon I will stop accepting her generous offers in the name of weight loss, but she's nice and helpful. She clearly doesn't understand what I'm doing there; not that I do either.

I am on this journey whether I like it or not, and I simply can't afford to be "destination" oriented, when my journey could mean so much. I am happy to work, I wait for something beautiful, and I need to start paying attention to my travel. I get so frustrated with others, who complain about their jobs, and they HAVE a job. I get frustrated with people turning down good work because it is beneath them or they don't want to negotiate a schedule, so they let it go. I get frustrated with people who owe me money and have a nice job, but spend all their money on some weekend trip or coffee and meals, because they don't want to cook for themselves or plan, or pay back what they owe. These things irritate me (as do Rooster decorations, Red pickups and Audi drivers). But my life is good. I have a home, I am fed, I have a really nice boyfriend (case in point: I wanted to try this new orange toothpaste, so he bought it. And I hated it. And he never said a word, but has been using that nasty toothpaste, even though he bought a new tube for me. That's a nice guy.) I'm 30, I view work as a means to live my life, and I want out of debt. I think that's healthy. It's time to make my "To do by 31" list. I think for my next birthday, I'm going to hire a Jack Sparrow impersonator, I'm going to either pull this tooth or fix it, and I really want my SCUBA certification. Now I just need to find 1500 bucks for all that. 500 if I just pull the tooth. :) Hmmm, and I need $2000 to finish my associates degree. I'm trying not to be greedy, but I want my bachelors. But that is only to make me feel good about myself, and that makes school my religion, and I don't want that. :)

I want another perspective, you know? One that seems so impossible, but isn't. Like in Colossians, when Paul tells the Greeks how Christ is different from the Greek gods. These people were terrified of their gods, their gods broke their own rules, came down to earth whenever they wanted on benders. Paul comes swooping in and says, "this guy isn't like that. He's the lifeguard, and he holds on to you." It's like me telling you that New Yorkers are laid back people who just like to sit at the beach and hang 10; it goes against everything you know about them, and it takes a lot to accept. Perspective is funny. I could be mad right now, but you wouldn't know because I'm typing and you can't hear me or see my handwriting get sloppier. I could walk in as someone walks out, and they might not even see me, but I could spend the day worrying about whether I did something wrong to them (annoying side note, I also dislike when people don't use the "g" on words, like "somethine"...that drives me CRAZY, but I also don't like to hear the "g" at the end of the word, like "songch." And there is an insight into my crazy...have fun with that).

Anyway, I am sure there is more to come, and I am sure you've enjoyed reading about all the things that irritate me, but my life is good, there is a hope to it that many don't have. I don't feel empty, as is easy to do when freaking out. I have authentic friends and loving family. I sit in this storm with all sorts of uncertainty, and I feel fine. No worries. I LOVE no worries. I am still waiting for something to happen that will make things more enjoyable. I have faith that something will. I think more and more about starting my own business, but I have a tough time. I know I could do it, but I don't know the direction to take. Not to sound like I'm adding external stuff into my life to improve it, but how great would it be to have my own business, and then the guy could quit and I could be working towards something for me? Dreams dreams dreams...

Today's song of the Day is a song i LOVE. I've been playing it all week. It's always cued up.
Need to Breathe: Something Beautiful

http://www.myspace.com/needtobreathe

It doesn't seem to be on Grooveshark yet. So if you go to their myspace page, scroll down and click on "something Beautiful"....it's so amazing. It's all I've been thinking about all week.

Impressions of the Week

2009-09-26T06:07:00.001-07:00

I was 10 years old, sitting in Mrs. Fitzpatrick's class, waiting for our recycling demonstration set to Michael Jackson's "We Are the World." I remember thinking about it before she even asked us. Our class joined up with Mrs. Strand's class, and I was staring at the pictures on the wall. I never answered the way anybody wanted, and this was no exception. She pointed at me and said, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I looked at the pictures again, of various men and women (mostly men) in their careers. I thought about how, if I said "a business woman," all the girls in both classes would know it was because of our collective crush, our Junior Achievement teacher, who looked just like Tom Cruise, but with better hair. I knew what I wanted to do; I had already started looking into it on my own. I don't know why it felt like a knee-jerk reaction, but I blurted, "I want to be an Archaeologist, but not with dinosaurs. I hate dinosaurs." The assembled classes of course laughed, but the picture of the archaeologist was surrounded by dinosaur bones, and South Dakota was not my idea of excitement; plus I had serious doubts about dinosaurs. I always felt like they just found bones and stuck them together, and who knows if that animal really looked that way? You could have bones from 6 different animals for all you know. I said this, but no one heard me, because they were still laughing at me. I wanted to be in some far off place (not Egypt though, I never knew why), carefully brushing off sand and dust to reveal some treasure from the past that no one had seen for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. Of course, with all the laughing and the pointing, a girl tends to start keeping that stuff to herself. Not until college, sitting in a course in Egyptology (ironic, is it not? I had to take it before I could take the Civil War class I wanted), when I remembered this moment from the 5th grade. I decided again I wanted to be an archaeologist, but my boyfriend at the time wasn't going to be ok with that. My prof was planning a trip to Jericho, in Iran (or Iraq? I can't remember now), but they didn't end up going anyway because of the diplomatic climate. I thought that would have been amazing. To go on an actual dig, finding pots with burnt grains on top, but whole grains underneath. Yeah, I thought Archeology would be amazing. I had spent the last 2 years with a guy-friend, watching Biographies and learning little known things, and of course had fallen in love with him. He ended up marrying my boss' daughter and I quit and went to college, where I never watched any biographies. Stupid boys. But I digress.

They say you know yourself the best when you're 10. German and Norwegian children choose a career when they are 10, and that determines which kind of school to which they go. They choose, and are trained in that field up until they complete school, when they are ready to go into that field. Can you imagine if Americans did this? How many times would we change our mind and how long would schooling take? 22 and just graduating highschool because you changed your mind 3 times? No direction. No staying power.

All of this is on my mind this morning, along with some random 3rd grade memories, for some reason. Actually I know why. I had a best friend in Elementary school, and one night we watched "The Princess Bride." It was the first time I had seen it, and it was soon my favorite. I still watch it a couple of times a year. When she moved away, I set our whole friendship on that, how she and I shared something that is still so precious. So imagine my surprise when, on facebook, she FAILED the Princess Bride quiz this week. She doesn't remember most of it; hasn't watched it since 4th grade, when we watched it together. So sad. It was cemented in my mind that we would always have that memory and could relive it whenever. :P

You may know that I started my new job this week. I don't really think of it as a job. I think of it more as 4 hours of exercise, first thing in the morning, for which I am paid. I am grateful for the work, and it will nearly pay all the bills, even part time. I just don't see it as my "job." Maybe I will. I forget what it's like to be new. I forget that those you work with have done this job, and are likely bored with this job, and have discovered how to slack off at this job. I stand there at 5am asking, "so the truck is late, what do you do when the truck is late? Down stock?" And they look at me, like, cool it, lady. We chill. We make small talk, and the manager walks by. I start asking if they will teach me....whatever. Show me around. The guys I work with in the morning are really wonderful. Nice guys. My first day, one of them loaded up a cart for me, gave me all the light stuff, carried anything heavy for me. It was really sweet. I know that won't last, and that's fine. But it was nice. And we're already working as a team really well. First day was great, we finished everything early and did down stock, we rocked it. Second day is where it got interesting.

I couldn't remember either of my coworkers' names. They, unlike me, don't wear their name tags out for the world (I still need to find the loopholes that these guys find in the rules :P). So I go to the first guy, tell him I am terrible with names, and can he tell me again. So I learn his name, get it down, remember. Then I confide in him that I can't remember the other guy's name either, so he tells me, but for some reason, I can't hear. So after 2 attempts, he shows me on the schedule. Ok. So all morning, I'm calling them by their names, we're getting along, and 3 hours into the shift, I call the 2nd guy over, and he tells me I've been using the wrong name all day. I looked at the wrong name on the schedule. Fantastic. So I tell him I couldn't remember and tried to cheat by looking at the schedule, thinking, why didn't the first guy tell me? Ohhh, Minnesota Nice. He didn't want me to feel like an idiot. Yes, yes, job well done. Funny, isn't it? The lady at church last week who called me the wrong name and I didn't correct her because I didn't want her to feel foolish, and then this happens? Anyway...

The day goes on, and we have extra work to do because the trucks were late. I still have not learned to take a break. Both days I've worked, I have not taken breaks. I will. Anyway, this guy comes in to the aisle where I am working, standing on a flatbed cart (kids, don't try this at home). Of course he needs something and I have no clue where it is. So I spend about 40 seconds trying to get off this cart gracefully, and finally end up leaping onto solid ground. I turn around to see him with one eyebrow up, so I self-defamate by throwing my hands in the air and singing, "graceful!" I turn to RUN around the corner to ask for help, when I run straight into a fellow employee, a moustached stranger. Chest to chest, full on collision. We are both so stunned, and neither can think of a good icebreaker, or awkwardly funny phrase. We stand there, both our hands on the other's outer arms, embarrassed laughter in our eyes, and all we can think to do is slide our hands down until we are holding hands, and say, "good morning!" In full view of my customer, who already knows I'm a spaz. Yippee. I'm surprised we didn't dance; it looked like we were going to. So I go to my manager and tell her that my morning just got very embarrassing, but feel no need to tell her why, I have a customer waiting.

When I took this job, I thought, "Yes. 5-9am, no customers, just stock and get out." But consistently, customers start coming in about 6:30. Why? And on Fridays it's worse, earlier and busier. They all find me for help, and I always find someone else to help, because really, what do I know? Oh well. It makes it easier to work later for more money. It's pretty relaxed there. The policy is after you miss 3 shifts without calling, then they talk to you. Yesterday the General Manager came up to my manager and said that someone wasn't in yet. She said, "if she's not in within the next half hour, let me know, I'll text her and wake her up." Nice. That was not how I ran things, but I had a much more stringent schedule, and a lot less people to fill it. So those things crack me up. I like wearing normal clothes, jeans, to work. I can just go do anything after. But I ask so many questions, involved ones. "With the discount, does it come out pre or post tax? How long do you have to work to get profit sharing? Can part timers get in on the 401k plan? How much does health insurance cost per week, and what's the grace period? When is open enrollment? What if I am trained in Blood Borne Pathogens, do I still need to call a manager to clean up human fluid spills?" The poor HR guy. In training, we'd watch the riDICulous videos, and you know what I mean. He'd say, "are there any questions?" and look at me. The one time I didn't have a question, he was shocked. He just kept saying, "Don't worry about it." It's a sarcastic and relaxed place. It's a good fit. I just have to make more money with it :) It doesn't sound like extra hours will be hard to come by.

Today's song of the day:

Round Room - Phish. I don't know why. It's the cadence, I think. This is how I'm feeling :)
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Round_Room/64138

My Super Power is Minnesota Nice. Will I Use it for Good or Evil?

2009-09-21T04:58:00.001-07:00

So at Grace Church Roseville, this series of sermons is happening about Minnesota Nice. He had a great definition up there from Wikipedia, and it stirred up my own thoughts on the subject.

Minnesota Nice is an expected politeness, an inherited people-pleasing gene; letting others go first, opening doors, deferring to others when making a decision about social locales. Minnesota nice is nice, but I think it also brings to light an underlying self esteem issue that Midwesterners have as a whole. The premise is nice, make others feel good, so they like you. Minnesota Nice also carries with it a connotation of shallow, passive-aggressive behavior that leaves one open to manipulation. Minnesotans would die like martyrs just to prove a point, without having to say it, as long as they were the nicer one in the situation. They will exhaust themselves helping others and baking "bars," just so people won't think they don't care. They will put other families before their own, giving all they have, just to have the appearance of being a nice, wonderful person, while their own family falls to the wayside. People talk about that too.

With this Minnesota Nice expectation comes some stress. Often I will sit at a stoplight, waiting to turn left or right. If I am the first one at the light, I fear that somehow, even though the light is red and we are bound by law, I am holding up the person behind me. In my mind they get angrier and angrier, and it's my fault, because I am in front of them. Almost invariably, when I finally get up the nerve to confront the seething person by looking in my rear view mirror, there is no one even behind me. If they are there, they are oblivious to me. So Minnesota Nice becomes this constant quest of "how can I make everything easy for those around me," as if it is my job. Also stressful is sitting in, say an office waiting room. You're expected to make small talk. I'm not one for small talk, I don't like talking about the weather. I will give this to Minnesotans: they usually begin the conversation with a joke about themselves, to put everyone at ease, myself included. Because that would make other people comfortable. But after a few sentences, awkward pauses dot the conversation, and no one knows if the polite thing to do is continue the conversation, or if the other person is getting uncomfortable (see my first entry, "Searching for Jobs and Chutzpah"...these are "Bob" situations).

It seems like a wonderful thing, this Minnesota Nice, and it is, when one is in a new situation. People are warm and inviting. But getting into a real friendship is harrowing business. One can't just say, "this is the kind of friend I am, these are my faults" to a forming friend. These things have to come out slowly, over time. You can't stress someone out with any issues you may have with yourself. You can't show imperfections until well after the 5th or 6th lunch date. Many times, you invest the initial 4 months trying to get to know someone, and when they FINALLY start showing you who they are, it's not always pretty, or worth it, and sometimes you never get below their "nice." Sometimes (thank you, Gertrude Stein), there is no there, there.

The other issue about Minnesota Nice I didn't even realize until the last few years is the manipulation and actual insult that Minnesota Nice can bring. I worked in a very stressful place as a caregiver, and one of my coworkers would come and vent about Minnesota Nice on a regular basis. She was from Europe, and she just didn't understand this concept. Just say you messed up. Just say what you want from her and she will do it! There is this sense, and maybe it is heightened in the health care field, that you need to show people you care about others more than they do. You are a better person because of how you care for others, and your whole life is devoted to it. People use it as credentials; "because I work with the needy, I have a more weighted opinion." She also felt like it was lying. She didn't feel like she knew any really honest people, because everyone is trying so hard to be nice, that the truth never comes out at all.

The manipulation is different than the dishonesty. The manipulation comes from those that know what Minnesota Nice entails, and use it for sympathy, attention, food, you name it. Minnesotans are ridiculously easy to guilt. They'll fall for that game, as I have often done. But, taking over hot dishes and bars doesn't even help, because the helper won't ask what's going on. They won't delve into how else they can help; food solves everything. This works out well for the manipulator, because there really is no problem anyway. Other manipulations come from people who, in their quest to be nice, simply cannot show their true personality; they act differently with each friend they have, and in a group social event either don't go, or say little, because they have to be a different person with each friend. This is the people-pleasing gene. They always have to look like the good guy, or they always are in need of help. They pick a role in the friendship that will make the other person feel good about themselves, and the boundaries are set. This creates HUGE problems in a social group, because one friend thinks they know the friend in question, but then they hear a completely different side or issue from another. This brings up gossip, each friend calling the others to see what they were told, and the last resort usually is confronting the friend in question, which Minnesotans aren't typically prone to do. That would be rude.

Here's a perfect example of Minnesota Nice, a real texting conversation between my Minnesotan friend that moved to Tennessee. We'll call her D:

Me: We HAVE to get together and have lunch while you're visiting!
D: Totally! Where do you want to go?
Me: You're the one visiting, what places do you miss? You have to chose.
D: You have to choose, because you know what's there, and what's affordable and what's close. I do miss the ginger dressing at Saji-Ya, but I also like the Good Earth, the French Meadow and Shish.
Me: Well that is just plain not helpful. ;) Where is the French Meadow? I've never been there.
D: It's in Minneapolis, I can't believe you've never been there! It's all natural and delicious.
Me: That may be a little undesirable, geographically speaking (yes, this is how we text. We text for hours, when we could call in 10 minutes, and we both HATE abbreviations).
D: Well, they are all good to me. You pick.
Me: YOU pick! You're the one visiting!
D: Ok, how about you decide between Saji-Ya and the Good Earth?
Me: Fine. Saji-Ya. How's 11?
D: Great. Does Saji-Ya do lunch? Can we do 12:30?
Me: I'll check. (20 minutes later). Yes, they do lunch.
D: Ok, then Saji-Ya at 12:30. Unless you want to do something else.
Me: NO! That's it. Saji-Ya at 12:30. I'm so excited to see you!
D: Me too!

Ok, so that conversation is typical, and really happened. Apparently we have all the time in the world to make decisions. On the actual day, this is the texting that took place:

D: I'm running late and changing plans. Will 3:00 work for you? We could have an earlier dinner, or a late lunch.
Me: Sure! (20 Minutes go by). Uh-oh; Saji-Ya is closed from 2-5. We need to find another place.
D: Gah! ok. How about Shish?
Me: Where is Shish?
D: Somewhere on Grand. I can't remember. By MacAlester somewhere.
Me: Ok, I will google it. I can do that.
D: Are you sure? We could go somewhere else.
Me: I'm sure! I'm not having THAT conversation again. :P I will meet you at 3 at Shish on Grand.
D: Sounds great!

Believe it or not, this is progress. You can clearly see that I made a decision both times. Yay me. Plus, I told her that she was not being helpful, and she didn't cry. Yay her! :) This is why you use emoticons when texting Minnesotans, so they don't EVER get the wrong idea or read your message in the wrong tone. The number one rule: EVERYTHING is fine (I'm not shouting. See?).

So that is Minnesota Nice in a nutshell. A tool that can be used for Good or Evil. An inherent politeness that borders on the frustrating. A deep insecurity. And now you know.

Today's song of the Day is in process. I'm not feeling the right one. If you really need one now, Jack Johnson, Good People will do for now:

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Good_People/21865857

Right now I'm feeling a little bad because at the service about how MN nice is not nice, a nice woman came up and introduced herself. I told her my name, and she started calling me Alice. I did not correct her. I didn't want to make her feel bad, and I didn't know if I would see her again. I realize this was the wrong thing to do. But Midwesterners aren't great with awkward either, it's a flaw in the people pleasing gene. Mapped to make everything nice.

May the Force Be With Me. The Work Force.

2009-09-19T05:02:00.001-07:00

I am up at 5:30am today. No idea why. I did meet with a store yesterday and had the all important, dignity boosting pee test taken, to ensure I don't do drugs. Yay. I told the interviewer I have never even smoked a cigarette or a joint, and I don't know if he just sees a lot of junkies or what, but he giggled, and said, "seriously?" Then he quickly quipped "that's awesome." It was a very informal interview. I found myself joking a lot. I kept thinking of Chandler Bing, and tried not to be as funny (i.e. "you said duties....hee heee heee"). I don't think he has a lot of faith in me, but that's OK (why do we have to capitalize OK? It's not an anacronym), I'll show him. I was offered a job, working M-F 5am-9am. This is perfect for me. I can work around it, I can be done by 9, and money will still come in. Plus I can stay after sometimes and make more money. Win-win-win-win. He seems a bit unsure if I am going to be comfortable working those hours. I told him I was a bit of a ridiculous morning person, and my housemates would probably enjoy having me out of the house in the mornings. At my old job, I was always singing or bouncing by 6. My awake nighters never understood me. And my nickname in Austria was Red Bull, because I didn't need any. I will let your imagination marinate on that a little bit. So yay, one job confirmed (hmmm, after the drug test, confirmed....I don't see a problem there). I move back into the force of the working. What is that? Is Doom shaking a little in its shoes?

Since I haven't been working, I have noticed just how much I used to spend frivolously. There were many lunches and coffees, which I don't really regret, but I used to have this habit of going to Target or Walgreens, and buying like $50 worth of stuff, and just leaving it in my back room, still in the bags. When I moved, I had so much unopened stuff that I totally forgot buying, it was ridiculous. I ended up donating like....yeah all of it. I was just having this conversation with my mom. She has recently joined the work force also, in the form of assisting in yearbook photos while insane mothers come and pull their 5th grade daughters out of class to dress them up like little hussies and hover (Ferris Bueller's Day Off: "My sister wears too much makeup; people think she's a whore.") Suddenly old habits and people seem just so ridiculous. She also realized when she stopped working how she would mindlessly shop. I never thought I was a shopping type of girl, but I guess you don't have to buy designer stuff to be an autobot shopper. I was good at putting money away and paying down my debt, too, but I bought a LOT of stuff I didn't need, or even want, as it turned out. I don't do that now, because I can't. I don't see that as a habit that will come back. I don't know, though. Sometimes I just want to go get something, even if its small. But I don't. So I think we're good. Ha! This is that ambivalence that pervades me....and that doesn't look like a word.

English is such a funny language. I read once that they interviewed people on the other side of the world who didn't speak a word of English, and they asked them to pick the most beautiful word, from a list (I don't know how many words were on the list). The majority of them picked Diarrhea. I found this odd, until my best friend told me that when she was a child she had an imaginary friend named Diarrhea. She was a ballerina and wore a pink tu-tu. I don't think she sees her much anymore. I ask about her sometimes, because I'm a good friend. :P I wonder if my friend is reading this post! Ha! I'll be hearing about this, I'm sure.

Today's song may require a bit of explanation: I've chosen The Sound of Settling by Death Cab for Cutie. I don't feel that I am settling, as I am grateful for any job at all, and this one actually will work really well for me, schedule wise. But somewhere deep inside, this rings a little.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/The_Sound_of_Settling/7280094

Some Ramble or Other About the Aesthetic and Emotional Pleasure of Letters

2009-09-18T05:56:00.000-07:00

I love mail. Good old fashioned mail. I have a pen pal and today I sent off a package. I love dressing up packages so that they're fun to get. I wrap everything in brown paper. Then you can write all over it, or you can tie it up in string, so that when the person gets it, invariably they are singing "My Favorite Things" for the rest of the day. Who doesn't love mail? Email is the tool of the day, and I'm not disparaging it, but when you're in college (even today), the only thing that makes you feel really really amazing is a care package from home, or a letter from someone put in your mailbox. Even if that letter is from your roommate, and she could have just told you. Mail makes you feel loved. It is a concrete thing that you can hold in your hand and know that someone was thinking about you.

You may wonder what started this pen pal craze of mine in 2009. Well, I saw the movie Julie and Julia, and while Julie's blog was interesting and fun, I was more captivated by Julia and her pen pal. She always had a letter in her hand, she was always writing one. No matter the letter, no matter where she was, letters came and they were like the newspaper. I'm sure as she got older she probably resorted to email like the rest of us, but I like to think that she always wrote letters.

I used to have lots of penpals. Living in a tourist area almost guarantees it. I had friends from camp every year, and an assignment in the 4th grade where we were given a pen pal. Mine was Elizabeth, and we actually wrote for a year or so. That was fun. Many of my international friends and I still write, though admittedly, it is more often through email or facebook that I do my correspondence. Also, I had all of their addresses in a memory book that was passed around when I was in highschool, and it was lost for 10 years. I got it back this year, and now I wonder who will remember me, and why I don't remember some of them!

Letters are such a great way to remember people. I often deleted emails from my grandmother, but I am fairly certain I have most, if not all the letters she ever wrote me, for birthdays or any reason. I was so proud when I became able to read her writing. I have her to thank also for the meticulous way I write now :).

I want a song to go with letters, but if you notice, most songs are about sad letters. That's not good. My Baby Wrote Me a Letter would be ok. Please, Mr. Postman...hmmm. Maybe. Hmmm. Brad Paisley's Letter to Me is sweet. I don't know, a song about mail is just not hitting today. We'll see what comes up.

So today is a worry-free zone, as my lovely friend reminded me yesterday. Today I write letters and I don't worry about not working. Hopefully I'll hear something today, but I am not sitting by the phone. There is a beautiful fog out in the park this morning, and geese and turkeys. I'm going to go for a walk with another lovely friend and enjoy the day. Many a day have I wasted by sitting inside, staring at the sunlight, worrying about my future and destroying the present. When I look back on this year, will I remember anything but the worry? My friend and I have much to worry about, but she reminds me that it won't help anything and now is the time for action. Can waiting be an action? Maybe my action will be to get a pedicure. Or a massage. Let's start with the walk :).

Today's Song of the Day is:
Heavenly Day, Patty Griffin
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Heavenly_Day/49054

Did you see that one coming?

Productivity on a Tuesday: A Lesson in Self Preservation and Promotion

2009-09-16T18:35:00.000-07:00

So I haven't written in a few days (channeling Michael Scott: "Dear Diary, I'm sorry I haven't written in a few days, there's been a lot of things to handle (that's what she said). XOXO, Michael Scott"). And I begin with digression. Fantabulous (gummi word....ewww sticky).

I'm writing in the evening, which is new. It may account for my extra random comments. I've been fairly productive the last few days. No, it is not because I turned 30. I hate seeing that on paper. It wasn't so bad; my parents came from Michigan and took me out to lots of meals. I was paraded around Don Pablos in a sombrero (that was only OK because she said I was turning 16). They came to offer mortal support. Yes, mortal support. I had the hardest time turning 30 because I still had 2 things on my to-do list that weren't done before 30; skydiving and getting my SCUBA certification. It was nice to have them around (my parents), and I was able to relax a little bit about my situation in life. We went to church on Sunday and the message was about Minnesota Nice, and how it's not really nice. How things are "fine" with Minnesotans, and living your life with inner flair, like a pepper, rather than having to spice it up like a potato. I get the message, I liked the message, but I'm not searching for prestige or a better job or the next best thing. I'm searching for survival, and to get out of debt. It was still encouraging, though. I enjoyed it.

So my parents left on Monday afternoon after a trip to Ikea and the cafe there. They took the scenic route home, which my mother, at least, does not recommend, on account of the desolation and wildlife. That sounds perfect to me. :) I spent Tuesday back in the saddle, but with a better outlook. I went back to my alma matter and found out what I need to do to finish my degree, and how much it will cost. I could do it in one semester, if I had the money. I'm within 20 credits of an Associates, which I would like to turn in to a Bachelors. I then decided to go into Borders and apply there. I got sidetracked at Williams Sonoma. I walked in and a lovely woman greeted me. I shopped for a few minutes and then asked whether they were hiring. She said they were hiring part time and seasonal Christmas staff in the next couple weeks. I filled out an application and chatted with her for a few minutes. I don't know if I will get it, but it was nice to actually get some face time, rather than putting myself out there hanging, ignored. I did also apply at Borders, but that is all online, and I hang out there again. The "sure thing" had mentioned a possible interview on Thursday, but nothing has been confirmed. It doesn't feel sure. I'm moving on. It's a company of mostly men, and they are slow to do the administrative stuff, I guess (no offense). I've decided it's just not going to happen and move on. If it does happen, yay. If not, well, that's for another day. I am really getting sick of applications. Seriously. The same info, the same numbers and references. The same the same the same. Oh well. Girl's gotta eat.

So I didn't wallow, still not wallowing. I'm 30. Wallowing is easy. You can sit and obsess about stupid things like the way "obsess" doesn't really seem like a word. You can watch 3 movies in a row. You can check facebook all day, and from your phone when you finally decide to get offline. You can research trivial things like what the heck Minnesotans do at a "Booya." Lots of stuff. I've got wallowing down to an art, I don't even need the junkfood anymore. But there are days when wallowing is just not the thing to do. You can still watch movies and research the origin of the "Pandowdy" but it has a purpose (annoying side note: Pandowdy is a dish the first American settlers made. It's like a pie, but halfway through cooking you "dowdy" or smash up the top and mix it in with the inside). You can write an article about it. Put on the Irish music and dance for 20 minutes...as long as no one is home. The point is to not sit and obsess over the unknown. I feel a Donald Rumsfeld quote coming on..."we know the knowns and we know the unknowns, but there is also the unknown unknowns, and we don't know what those are..." There's not much I can do but keep trying. It's not nearly as heart wrenching when you can actually talk to someone. No limbo...well some limbo, but the chance to make an impression.

So there it is. That's what has been going on. There's a lot more in the noggin, but I'll get to it.

Here's the song of the day today (tonight), in honor of sitting here by candlelight and being 30. Cheers!
The Weepies: Nobody Knows Me at All
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Nobody_Knows_Me_At_All/185475

Faith, Green Eggs and Flat Cake: A Deep Conversation for a Thursday Morning.

2009-09-10T08:44:00.000-07:00

"You really shouldn't be worrying about this. It's in the bag. They're not calling because they're busy, because they need you." My boyfriend reassures me as he walks out the door back to work. I'm a professional worrier. I didn't use to be. It's been a week, and my "sure thing" has not called. True, there was a holiday in there, and a weekend. I'm just anxious to be doing something with my hands. I've been enjoying writing, and I think I'll keep it up, but I write for sanity, not for money. I could take the approach of, "they must be afraid of me. They must think I'm out of their league" for all the jobs that have not even bothered to pick up the phone and call me. I start obsessing over where I went wrong on my resume, the psychological tests, the "reasons for leaving." My last job was tricky. I had to be available 24 hours a day, and I lived in. After 3 years of that I was burnt out and had constant heart burn and chest pain. So I write, "working 24 hours a day for 3 years affected my health." I bet this is scary for an employer. Also I had one workman's comp claim (I REALLY should have had two, when that TV fell on my head and I couldn't speak correctly for like a year), and I hear rumors that potential employees want to see if you're "that" kind of employee.

I used to not worry about anything. Believe me, I had a lot to worry about, but I just didn't. At the time I was encouraged by an observation from John Piper, a pastor here in the twin cities that was in a theological war with another pastor here in the twin cities, and my college friends and I decided to pick sides. I picked John Piper, a 5 point Calvinist who can spend a year on one chapter in Romans. I adored him, and I still highly respect him. My college friends and I were busy living in our little bubble of Christianity, not so much trying to figure out our own faith as the faith of our group. We used to joke that Piper's church was like a soap opera; you could miss church for a year and when you came back he was only 2 verses past where you left off. He's a brilliant man. His theology runs deep. The main contention was that this other pastor, Greg Boyd, had a theory he thought would console people and skeptics. He said bad things happen because God doesn't know the future, so how could he prevent it? I had a really hard time with limiting God, so I picked another camp. I remember being in a Christian bookstore, and someone was reading the back of Boyd's book, a collection of letters to his father, and the sales person came up and began talking to this customer, bragging that they know him, they go to his church, how brilliant he is. It all just kind of made me ill. I went hard core the other way, as did Piper, to escape this idea. Many sermons would be aimed directly at Boyd, and while I love Piper, for a time it felt like his teaching was more about proving someone else wrong than moving on to rejoicing. I think he felt like he helped create a monster, as they both were professors at the same school, and the school had to decide what allowance of interpretation was allowed. But I digress.

Somehow eventually I realized I'm not a 5 point Calvinist, and I didn't necessarily need to pick a side. People were so up-in-arms about this situation, I realized I was more passionate about the fight amongst believers than I was about furthering my own faith. I still hold Piper in high regard, and I cling to the "Future Grace" he brought so well to light, but I don't go there anymore; it's more like a reminder of a former time. It's odd.

Nevertheless, I was stuck in Florida in a no-win situation in the winter of 2001. I had brought a bunch of Piper's books with me to encourage me and to continue learning. One day I read about worry. He brought up the typical Bible verses on worry (you know, Jesus starts asking people if there is a point to worrying; if it will make you live longer, etc). I was faced with a slowly dying man before me, and this hit home to me. If he worried, it wouldn't make him live longer, and his end was imminent. If I worried, I wouldn't live longer and who knows what my end would be? Then Piper brought up another point. Leaving tomorrow's worries to tomorrow, because today had enough trouble. He drew the paralel to Moses and the Isrealites wandering in the desert. They had a lot to worry about, even if it was their own fault (like me). He provided them with manna, which they ate every day (leave it to humans to complain about eating the same food every day). The funny thing about manna is that you can't keep it. It's not a left-over type of deal. There was new manna every morning, and if you tried to preserve yesterday's manna, it would rot. They were given what they needed for the day. Each day they were given what they needed for that day's struggles. So I took that to heart and I didn't worry anymore. And I had a lot to worry about. But I just didn't.

After my time in Florida was done, I remember praying this ridiculous prayer: "Lord, I'm tired. If it's ok with you, could I just have smooth sailing for a while?" And I did. And I got comfortable with my easy life, jobs and money came to me, I was an independent girl who didn't have any worries, but I only looked at what was in front of me. So I didn't notice when my health started failing because of my high stress job, I was always taking one day at a time. I didn't notice when I burnt out and became bitter and irritated at the job I loved. And when I finally took a step back and looked behind me, I saw a path of destruction that I had been leaving behind in my quest for a smooth life and a "present day" look. So I realized something else when I left my last job; I realized that nowhere, in all the literature or encouraging things I had read, in the discussion of Calvinism vs. Skepticism was I supposed to ignore the past. I was only supposed to not worry about the future.

Faith is like a recipe. It looks easy on paper. The directions seem pretty obvious. But suddenly, once you start cooking, you realize they didn't really tell you anything about how to do it. So you try something, it may work it may not. You change the order of things. You add the baking powder later, then earlier. Sometimes you skip ingredients, sometimes you add your own. Most dishes never taste the same twice, and it may only be that way because of how you feel. You have to make the recipe and have faith that something good will come from it. You make it again, learning from what you did the last time. And nobody quite makes the same dish the same way. For instance, my friend and former boss was just commenting on facebook that she got this recipe from a friend and it's a new favorite, but she hasn't quite made it taste exactly like hers yet. Same ingredients, different feel.

So I have faith. I have faith that I have skills and intelligence and humor. I have faith that I will live, somehow, no matter what happens; I've been in worse situations. I have faith that eventually I will learn what I am supposed to, and I will work for someone or for myself, and that something good will come of it, even if I mess with the ingredients and change the order around. My eggs may come out green, my cake may flop in the oven, but in the end, it's the fact that I spent time in the kitchen that counts. I don't know if this makes sense to anyone else, and I know it's a little deep for a Thursday morning. Sorry.

Today's song of the day is Don't Worry, by Bob Marley
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Don_t_Worry/22489911

I just saw how Ironic that looks. If you know anything about my life, the fact that I picked reggae today, with this entry is just so weird.

Mr. Wilde, I Really Must Protest

2009-09-08T08:56:00.000-07:00

Like the new banner today? Someone made it for me. It's awesome (sorry, Irish friends, it's outstanding!). It's kind of a big deal :).

Yesterday was Labor Day, so I took the day off. Yes, that is a joke. But I did vacate my worries and fears for a day. That was kind of fun. I watched some of the marathon of The Office on TBS, and I was able to enjoy the fact that I don't have a boss like Michael Scott. He's alright as a character, even as a friend (hmm...maybe acquaintance), but thank Heaven I don't work for him. Anyway, to the point of what I did yesterday (nerd alert: you may want to skip this part if you see yourself as "cool"...wait, what am I saying. If you see yourself as "cool," leave now, as "cool" people find the bright side a thorn in theirs.), it was satisfying. I got my free credit report and went over all 23 pages meticulously, making notes all over the margin. I took the letter that came last week, about which I wrote an entire blog entry (incidentally, this card claims perfect performance on my credit report), and I wrote them a letter back, on their paper.  I told them I reject their terms, I reject them as a creditor, and I reject their customer service, which has done a very poor job defending their arbitrary "policies." I cut up all 6 cards they sent me (I only needed one in the first place, there's another place you can save money!) into 1/2 centimeter pieces and put those in the letter as well. That was fun. I only owe them $380.00. I'll be done soon enough. I wrote an extra effigy on the back of the envelope, telling them to lord their arbitrary policies over someone else, and I addressed it to the "Arbitrary-Bad-Business-Account Services" department. I wonder if they will get the right message.  I'm sure they get a lot worse, but I felt better.

As I write this, I have an aged cat screaming at me. I am eating cereal and, much like Lady Catherine DeBurgh, she must have her share in the conversation. Now, before you put me in the category of "Cat Woman," You should know she's not my cat. That's right. My boyfriend had a pre-existing cat and dog when I came along. Each morning she starts howling between 5 and 7am. You'd think she was starving to death. Each morning I see her bowls are full with food and water, she's eaten some of the plant leaves, and there is no reason for such a display. I really should film it, and send it to AFV. She's looking for the gourmet canned catfood, so that she can lick the gravy off the top and be done with it. She doesn't even eat it. The pets here are the most spoiled pets on the planet; they only drink bottled water, they have the most expensive treats and food, they get served extra servings of the good stuff once a day, and don't even mention a leash to the dog; he doesn't know what to do with it. He assumes that it's meant for him to douse it in pee. At least he knows it's his. But I digress.

If you know me, you know that I like Oscar Wilde quips and plays. A friend sent me a quote the other day, to assist in the plight of my life (how dramaaaatic). Here's the quote, and my subsequent ambivalence about it:
"It is better to have a permanent income than to be fascinating." - Oscar Wilde

Here is where I find him charmingly befuddled (random quote from "Family Guy, please forgive it); I don't disagree that a permanent income is better than wit, but why would he of all people say this? His entire income came from being witty and fascinating. It seems to me the only people able to get a job in this economy are those that are fascinating, which I thought I was...clearly I have not thought this through. Maybe I spoke prematurely; maybe I should just tell you I'm ambivalent and leave it at that. The trouble is, many of those that read this blog may interpret ambivalence as some sort of apathy. I'm not apathetic, I am definitely ambivalent. According to the freedictionary.com, ambivalence is "the coexistence of opposing attitudes and feelings...to a person, object or idea." It's not that I don't care, I'm just torn about it in my mind. I hate to say it, but I feel like fascination and income are inter-dependent. That is just sad. But what of we who have fascinating features (I don't mean to sound narcissistic, I find fascination in the world and write it down, this is what I mean...besides, I don't see me drowning because I love the way my reflection looks) and still spend hours each day trying to network and apply and be part of the work force in America? A fascinating person could be a killer, a psychopath, a Caliban. To an employer, it doesn't matter. The more charming and ego-feeding a person, the better chance of getting a job.

Why does this thought repulse me so much? The thought of going into a place where I don't even really want to work, just to say "yes, I think management is always right, and I never question it. No, I have no desire for advancement..." makes me physically ill. The management has to know that these people are lying, but it's what they want to hear. This is a huge flaw in American business. It allows the poor of heart and those with low morals into the work force, only to advance and continue their pattern of unethical behavior, only to end up in situations like Enron, or the financial collapse of 2008. YET, businesses have not learned that it is better to hire an honest, hard working person with ambition than a robot who can tell a joke. So, Mr. Wilde, this is my answer. In order to achieve a permanent income (even one that may collapse because of your "fascination"), one must be fascinating. There is no place for an honest, hard working, realistic person in American business.  People who are pure of heart are not what makes the big bucks, as Mr. Wilde was well aware. I think that's been the underlying frustration this entire time. The paradox of background and drug tests against the art of flattery and fascination.

So today, I continue on.  I weigh the gray area, and decide if I am willing to say what they want to hear, so that I may continue to survive. It could be worse; I could have to find a speech to impress Michael Scott!

Today's Song of the Day is by Toby Mac; Lose My Soul, especially verse 2. Here, I'm going to cut and paste verse 2. It's good.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Lose_My_Soul/319227
video: http://www.tangle.com/view_video?viewkey=fe90b530a0b632a409ad

Here's verse 2:
The paparazzi flashes, and that they think that it's you,
But they don't know that who you are is not what you do,
True, we get it twisted when we peak at the charts,
Yo before we part from the start,
Where's your heart?
You a pimp, hustler?
Tell me what's your title,
America has no more stars, now we call them idols,
You sit idle, While we teach prosperity,
The first thing to prosper should be inside of me.
We're free...
Not because of 22's on the range,
But Christ came in range, we said yes now we changed,
Not the same, even though I made a fall,
Since I got that call, no more Saul, now I'm Paul.

PS: This video cracks me up. I'm not money hungry (I often say I hate money), I'm just looking to survive here, but this is kinda cool.
"Satan on the Economy"
http://www.tangle.com/view_video?viewkey=291a832979049a0f54b2&mui=6974c0a9b90143e37db255f6dee6ff9d

Stand Down, Grasshopper: A Lesson in Waiting

2009-09-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

Those of you who follow my blog will notice today that my blog looks different, and is in a new location. This morning I was trying to explain to my boyfriend my level of fear and panic about all the things in my life that I don't control (like everything), and he noted that I'm not looking at the bright side, as I typically do. He's right, I've always been a bright side kind of girl (you'd be surprised at some of the bright sides I've found in bizzare situations). So, he has given me an assignment to write all the things I have accomplished, so that I will stop being psycho and freaking out about everything. Can you imagine, ME being tough to live with? :P Thus, the new name and the new look to the blog. Somehow it became a mission statement. I know I need to learn patience; this is why I haven't asked for it, because I can't handle getting it! :) I'm no dummy!

So here we go:
-I got my rejection email from Macy's today. They're right; I'm far to qualified for their part time job, and would want to advance; they should fear my advancement, because it is imminent.
-I am a published writer! I have a blog. It may be random bits of meltdown, but it's mine, and I enjoy spending time with it (I almost wrote thyme...apparently I'm in garden withdrawl).
-I am an experienced photographer with jobs lined up, and jobs under my belt (though, as a type A perfectionist, I always think I could have done better....wait. My boyfriend, over my shoulder, is humming something about sabotage, and taking points off for deviation, so skip that last parenthesee...parentheses? What is the word that goes there?)
-I spend my free time learning. I will not be defeated by America's obsession with mushy brains and TV saturated culture
-I have travelled. This year alone I've seen Ireland and Mexico. That's a good year. I've seen Austria, Prague, Bratislava, various towns in Germany and the Netherlands, Norway, Jamaica and Canada. In each place I learned that I am not defined by what I do or what people think, because no one there knew me, so it didn't matter.
-I have great friends. Friends that don't try to fix everything, but let me freak out and love me anyway. Laugh with me, cry with me, Irish dance with me in pubs in Dublin far into the night.
-I have amazing family, who are getting to know me better through this blog. I have spent a lot of my adult life away from them physically. But they're great people who let me be myself and encourage me, even if they would rather I gave up and came to live with/near them.
-I'm fairly intelligent. I can keep a conversation going without looking like a total fool....well usually. There are a few exceptions that will remain nameless, or already discussed in this blog earlier (ooh ooh! Remember the time I called a potential employer to follow up on an app, and couldn't tell if it was a man or woman by their name on the voicemail, so I ended up panicking, jumping up and down waiting for the beep b/c I couldn't use my salutation? That was hilarious...it came out like ".......hi!").
-I can sing (again, with one exception in Dublin; thank you, wonderful Irish musician friends for seeing me for more than that moment), and enjoy singing when I do (though try to keep my voice down for the neighbors; a courtesy they don't share :P)
-I can play piano. I can really play piano, and I love pounding on it when I'm freaked out (though I haven't in a while). I also have been known to write some tunes and even a couple of songs!!
-My health has steadily improved since I left my previous job, and almost seems manageable. I have a lot more days where I feel good.
-I no longer have mold in my house, and symptoms that are ignored by my landlord/employers. Plus my house is not slowly sliding down the hill in the back, and no one is ignoring that either.
-I can sit with my boyfriend and have fun, intelligent, witty conversations, and we don't seem to get bored with each other. That's nice.
-I am not alone. It may feel that way; it may feel like no one knows I exist and no one returns my calls or letters, but I am not alone. Just because I have more time than everyone else to stare at my phone does not mean I am alone.
-I am not a loser. I am funny and smart, and I have the love of a turtle. I think. Turtles are hard to read. I definitely have the love of a dog, and the tolerance of a cat. That's a big deal.
-I can COOK. I can Bake. I can really make some delicious food.
-I have a garden that gives me ample food and opportunity to photograph it's inhabitants. Due to this phenomenon, I have become much less afraid of crawlies and bugs. Spiders are still a force, though. Working on that one.

I have always known that my life holds many paradoxes; take the name of this blog. "Is This Really My Life: Bright Side Blogs." I'm a constant yin and yang, always contradicting myself, but still being true. I'm actually ok with that. I know I make little sense to the world, but to me I'm mappable. :)

So I have a "shoo-in" position that is apparently waiting for me (annoying side note: I always wrote "shoe-in" until Thursday, when I learned it's "shoo-in" from an aged term in horse racing; when a horse was rigged to win, all you had to do was "shoo" him to the finish line...learning all the time). I went in on Thursday and applied for it, on a 4x6 note card, shortest application ever. I joked with the guy behind the counter, I was smooth and funny, I did my hair, I wore a nice outfit, and I have not had a call. Keep in mind this is the guy that said all I had to do was fill out the app and I was in. There's no reason for no call right now :) I bet he's on vacation. On the bright side, I don't have to ask for next weekend off, when my family comes to visit. That should make things easier. See? Back to my old self already.

Today I drink my tea to all of those people in limbo, just waiting for something to happen; the zombies that wander until something comes to interrupt their waking sleep. I'm not much for waitng; it's not my thing. Maybe that's why I've been waiting so long, because I need to learn the art of waiting. See, paradox, yet it is what it is. Cheers!

Song of the day:
Stand Down Margaret by English Beat, as a fun reminder to myself.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Stand_Down_Margaret/11691502

How Credit Card Companies are Ticking Me Off!

2009-09-03T14:48:00.000-07:00

Today I received my 4th notice from a credit card (all separate cards), notifying me that, because of the economy and no fault of my own, my interest rate is increasing on my balances. How am I supposed to get out of debt? Today was a doozy, because this card had a fixed rate of 8.7 percent when I opened it. In December of 08, they said my payment was late (I did it online, but it didn't go through for whatever reason) and increased my interest rate to 12.24. I'm within $500 of paying it off. So now, they send me a letter, saying that my VARIABLE rate is increasing to 16.99% through no fault of my own, and I can contest, but they'll close my account. Does this make sense to anyone else?  I haven't received anything that says I don't have a fixed rate anymore. Last month I got a letter on my 6.5% interest card saying they will no longer extend me any credit, but I can keep paying, though my account will be closed. WHY SHOULD I? You guys keep screwing me over! So now, my "low" interest rate cards are closed, and my revolving balances are all increasing their interes rate. Because of the economy. The fact that my credit score is over 700 makes it easy for them to mess with me. They think I'll just pay it, because no one else is in this economy. HEY, CREDIT CARD BUSINESSES, HERE'S AN IDEA: How about less commercials, and keeping the people who owe you money able to pay it back? I think Capital One can afford to air only 4 commercials a day, instead of 12. Why am I paying for your bad economy and all the people who aren't paying their bills? I don't have a job!

I don't use my cards anyway. I don't care if they close. I'm just trying to get out from the ones with balances (which is 5 now, instead of 11...that's better, but still hard to squirm under their greed). Does anyone have any tips for me? I know to pay minimums on all but one, and try to pay off one at a time, but right now with my circumstances, I'm paying minimum anyway, on everything!

What this means is that between all my credit cards, I'm paying 95 dollars a month TO BE IN DEBT. Are you kidding me with this? I'm paying 95 bucks a month to OWE someone. How depressing is that!?!?!?!
I'm looking for help. Grants, free money, etc :) I hear the government has a certain amount of money each year they have to give away...how do I find these bubbling springs of cash? I just don't know what to do now. I have to get out of debt! I would go to a place to do that, but I haven't found a free financial service yet, or one that is reasonable.

What happens if I just give up and don't pay it?  I'm reminded of a song, "The Night I Punched Russell Crowe" by Gaelic Storm. In the second verse, after he punches Russell, Russell's bodyguard runs up and says, "run boy, Chuckie run and don't stop until you get to Mexico." Is that the answer? Am I forced to become an ExPat because greedy American Credit Cards are running me into the ground? What is the equivalent of punching a credit card company in the nose?

I'm just talking out my rear, but seriously, a girl just CAN'T catch a break! If anyone out there wants to loan me 10,000 at 8%, I could pay it off in 3 years....300 bucks a month (800 profit for you!), at 10%, 305 a month (1000 profit for you!).  Hey, it's about what I am paying now :) Let me know! :P Right now, 55% of my monthly payments are going to debt! That's just WRONG! :P

I wasn't going to write about finance today, I was going to tell a funny story about how I applied for a job today and they gave me a 5x7 index card as an application, and then I went to the store to buy Turtle food, and realized in line that I didn't have my wallet. But I've been totally sideswiped by credit.  Sorry, people that read my blog (both of you! just kidding!). I will be funny again, or at least ridiculous. Jeopardy is on. Then Cash Cab is calling. I'm GOING to be on that show someday.  Maybe trivia shows are my ticket to debt free! :)  Or, I could have a TV show; "How to be Unrealistic." "Dream Talk" or "Fantasy Island".....oh wait, there's already a TV show called that :) Well, I'll just keep pressing on, as I do :)

I dreamt in Sit-Com Last night

2009-09-03T05:21:00.001-07:00

Last night I dreamt many things, quickly.

I dreamt I was destitute and tried to sneak back to my old job (residential) to sleep in the garage, but the staff had taken it over. So I went to a water park to hide out, but my nephew kept going down the slide unattended, knocking into people. He's almost 4, but in my dream he was younger, and swam like a fish. Why were those people standing at the base of the slide anyway? The more I think about this dream, the more I think it had to have been at the Mall of America. I was meeting a friend there to go shopping (appearance shopping only) at Target. As we wandered, we noticed they only sold Renaissance and Pirate clothes. I'm sorry about the randomness; I'm trying to remember it all. While at Target (wearing an emerald green, V-Cut dress reminiscent of Renaissance Festival, but sewn strangely in the back, and a size 4), all I could pay attention to were the pictures on the walls behind the displays; mountains in Montana, Praries in Wyoming, nature shots turned into signs. Then I heard people arguing. It was Jesse and Becky from Full House, the TV show. Jesse was trying to support his family, but hated working at Target; he wanted a job he loved, or he wanted a job at Target that was better, or less visible; he'd take either. Becky was trying to be understanding, while telling him to get over it, and that his hair looked good. The manager seemed to love holding this over Jesse's head, and gave him the option of Animal Wrangler (apparently Target herds Elk now) or stock boy. I remember seeing the battle within him; so proud, not wanting either of those things but unsure what to do about it, but wanting to provide for his family. It was surreal. Then I woke up. I have no idea what that means. It seemed important, though, at the time.

I have a regional store around the corner that I decided to investigate. My boyfriend's company has an account with this store, and a guy that manages the account. Yesterday Tim called this guy and told him I was looking for work. He told me to come in and fill out an app and it was pretty much mine, and I could pick from 2 positions. I am extermely grateful, and I really look forward to working again, but this situation also re-iterates the frustration I've been having; I've been killing myself looking for work, and someone I know makes a phone call and I'm in? That was easy.

Why does America work this way? Why is it all "Who you know?" Do we really not see merit unless someone can vouch for you? That is so sad. I wonder if all humans are like that in every country. I wonder if I'm like that? I don't think so. Maybe that will be my next question for my international friends. I am intrigued.

So I am going back to work sometime in the near future. It's a foot-in-the door job, but I am so psyched to be doing anything. This job seems to let you work the same shifts every week, so I could also work around it easily, if something else comes up. It pays more on the weekends, so guess when I'll be working? :)

Today I clean the house, perhaps roller-blade a bit and drink my tea to the employed. Oh yeah, and I apply for this job. Cheers!

Today's song of the day: Simple Life by The Weepies. I LOVE the Weepies.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Simple_Life/51728

How Shaun of the Dead Explains the World.

2009-09-02T05:52:00.000-07:00

Today is my 243rd consecutive day without a job. It's not all bad. I've seen a lot of the world this year, all of it new. I've taken up some new hobbies and had fun taking a lot of pictures. It gets harder to enjoy these things when the savings account continues to dwindle well into the "Red Zone" of uneasiness. I'm trying really hard to not worry. Worry doesn't help in this situation, it just exacerbates it (Ed from Shaun of the Dead: "What's that mean?!?"). Shaun of the Dead is a great movie; so many people go through life with the same routine, the same disappointments, the same weaknesses. Those that get the chance to come out of their sleep learn that life is really wonderful. If they can survive the waking. Plus it's super funny.

Yesterday was a perfect example...of why I didn't write. I was in a real mood yesterday, feeling like an absolute loser, and I just didn't know how it was going to come out if I wrote. All these things were exacerbated ("what's that mean?") by the fact that my mouth still hurts from some dental work last week and I got a bill while they're waiting for my insurance. Put that one in the circular file. I spent the morning running down the list of loser-like qualities that I have. I honestly don't think the job thing would be so scary if I weren't turning 30 soon. This led to bigger loser-ish items (sorry for the gummi word). If you look at my life from the point of view of the movie industry, for example, I look pretty darn pathetic. I'm 30 (almost), I don't have a job, my parents can't even plan a birthday party for me because my friends are all over the place, and seem to change every couple of years. The fact that my parents are trying to help me by throwing me a birthday party is so sweet, but for some reason, it keeps making me cry. I may as well be Jay or Silent Bob, sitting on the couch doing nothing or hanging out at the mall looking for chics. You know what I mean; if I were in the movies, I'd be of little consequence or value to the main character, who has a job and a life. Maybe Dupree was a better example. At least Jay and Silent Bob had adventures that resulted in hilarity. This is how I spent my morning yesterday. Good times.

In the middle of one of these pity parties my boyfriend came in. He said all the right things and let me cry some more, then told me I needed to get out of the house. He took me on an errand for work, and we ended up going to 2 different stores. I kept my tears controlled for the most part as we wandered through the first store, which was out of everything he needed (thus 2 stores). It boggles my mind when I walk through these stores. So many of the employees just sit there, zombie like, with their mouths hanging open. Shaun of the Dead got it so right with the zombies; he didn't even know people were zombies because he was acting like one every day with the same routine, etc. I'm watching all these sloppy employees, dressed in wrinkled clothes, staring, mouths open into the wild yonder, and all I can think of is, "How did you get a job? Show me how to be like you." Because they are everywhere. Aaaaaand the nausea returns.

I revisited the Macy's application with my boyfriend. It's basically a psych test of over 400 questions, many repeated to see how you'll answer the same question. Some of them were really situation based, so I would put neutral; In some situations that is appropriate, in some it is not. I think this is where I messed up. I should have taken a stand one way or the other, but some questions were too vague and open ended. I was talking to a friend a while back when I was applying somewhere else with a test like this, and he was like, "just answer how they want to hear, it doesn't matter." Why? Why should I answer like I am a perfect, completely black and white person without flaw? For some answers I will not apologize; I think employers have an obligation to their staff to keep them affirmed and praised, so that retention improves, and they are willing to be part of the team. I think criticism is helpful when delivered with praise, and brought in a team atmosphere, rather than pointing out someone's mistakes and not giving them credit for what they do right. Is this where I went wrong? Do I care?

My brain knows that I am valuable to any company. I know I work hard. I know I can do a lot of different tasks, and be very helpful. My brain knows that if I don't fit the psychological profile at Macy's, I don't want to be there. But here's the kicker. It's my feelings that overrun in these situations. Why wouldn't Macy's want me? Why wouldn't any of these places want me? I was open and honest, as I often am, and I am completely resentful of the way I have to conform, lie, up-sell myself and generally exaggerate my ENTIRE being, so that a company will take a second look at me. Right now, my feelings tell me that I am on my own; no one knows I exist, no one feels I'm worth a 20 minute meeting. Even convicts can get jobs, they even have people to help them. That's not a road I'm willing to travel.

Last night I was up in the middle of the night, again worrying about the future. I can't stop the future, I have no choice but to believe it is going to be good. I've only missed like 2 credit card payments in my life (here's the rundown on my finances...I know I don't get me either: I was an idiot in college with credit cards, a talent I learned from my all-too-useless fiancee (sorry, buddy. You screwed up a lot for me), resulting in credit card debt of over 24,000. In my last position, I got great at money and budgeting, and brought that number down by half. So I'm at half, but that is still a lot for me, especially with no job. So I've been making minimum payments all year, which amounts to about $550 a month, with a consolidation in there also, and gets me nowhere with my debt. That's almost rent for a crappy apartment, or rent with a roomate for a nice place. This is money I loathe paying. All I need is to win a bout 10 grand in the lottery, and pay it all off. I don't even want a million. Just give me 10-20 grand, and I'm set for long enough). If I start missing payments now, I have NO idea what will happen to my pretty credit score, how I will live, etc. it's freaking me out. I've always been that independent girl who figures it all out somehow, but it's not happening right now. Luckily, I have a boyfriend that doesn't mind paying the rent, so all I have to worry about is my crap and putting gas in my car. He doesn't seem to mind, at least when I am sane and not crying because of a midlife crisis at 30 (does that mean I'll only be 60?).

Anyway, these are the thoughts that plague me when I'm not looking. I'm still a human, an American, a smart chic (nobody beats me at Cash Cab), a funny one (looks aren't everything), I can be cute. I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!!!

Here are yesterday's scams:

Scam #1:

Transam Associates provides precise medical transcription of voice files that doctors dictate for hospitals, clinics and doctor offices.

Transam Associates also conducts its own training program that prepares individuals for the medical transcription profession. This training is done online in the comfort of your own home. A personal trainer is provided to guide individuals in the training program through a Live Chat environment.

As a recruiter for this national transcription service, I am seeking full-and part-time, home-based medical transcriptionists. We are committed to providing a work environment where medical transcriptionists can grow and be respected for the professionals they are.

This is for entry level individuals and if you are not yet qualified, we'll provide tuition FREE training and a personal trainer that you'll need to become qualified. Once you meet our criteria, which will be defined for you before you begin, you will be certified by us as an
accomplished medical transcriptionist and can begin to work for Transam
Associates, Inc. Our special books and software are required.

There's your scam flag right there!!! I googled this, and it seems to be one of the oldest scams, comes through YahooHotJobs so it looks real. Apparently they just keep you in training, don't give you jobs, and you have to buy their software for $500.00, which is just an audio player.

Scam #2:

Hi Elle,
I came across your contact information and I was wondering if you would be interested in looking into an opportunity that we have available in the Travel Industry. This position can be either Full or Part time so keep in mind, even if you are not interested in a full time position this business makes a great “Plan B” source of extra income into your checking account. Income to pay your car payment, electric bill or even your house payment, etc. Position SummaryLeisure Travel Consultant (LTC) Summary:

As a Leisure Travel Consultant you will be in charge of promoting travel packages and travel club memberships. You will work with cruise lines, resorts, and specialty travel packages from around the world. And, you get paid for it!

I believe this one came from HotJobs also (when you post your resume, it's up for grabs for any jack-hole that wants to screw you over, FYI). When I emailed her back asking for more information, and adding the disclaimer that if there is a startup fee I'm not interested, she emailed me and said before she told me anything, I'd have to send my resume and contact information. HELLO, it's on Hotjobs, where you found me. I googled this one, and apparently you get travel at wholesale prices, but you only make money if you recruit people....pyramid style. *sigh*

So, in honor of a new day and a new search with new hopes, today's song of the day is "Sunshine in a Bag" by the Gorillaz. Well, just the first minute or so.

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Sunshine_In_A_Bag/8789003

Are You Kidding Me: How Technology Does NOT Help the Online Application Process

2009-08-31T09:13:00.000-07:00

GAH! I have applied to 13 jobs today. I have filled out more applications and written more cover letters, and let me tell you how this technology is screwing everything up.

Most jobs you apply directly on their website. You can upload your resume, but you still have to type everything in, so what is the point, exactly? So I've typed my resume no less than 13 times today, even though I have a perfect copy that I tried to upload (as an added bonus, on the websites where you can upload your resume, it won't accept the newest, Office 2007 version. UPDATE YOUR SITES, employers!). So I have revamped my resume once again, saved it in the OLD 1997-2003 version of Word, and still manually typed in my information (are you hearing this? I can do data entry!)!

The last website was the worst. It's a bank website, and I was applying as a teller. I filled out my entire resume yet again, retyped it all, hit submit, and got an error message that their site is not working. So after all that CRAP, I still haven't even applied. Do they have any idea how exhausting and ego-damaging it is to do this to every site? Every time I apply I have to think of something new to say, some way to make me sound better, I'm sick of trying to up-play myself. I am a good employee the way I am, with the experience I have. I keep trying to think of ways I can sound more desirable, more "good" at my life. Augh, just looking at that phrase is making me nauseated.

So today I have applied at:

-2 Separate jobs at Macy's
-A Book Store in the Airport
-3 other places in the Airport
-Culligan Water Receptionist/Clerk
-4 Medical offices for Records Clerk
-A Bank - Wait, scratch that, I did NOT apply to the bank after all
-A Grocery Store Inventory Specialist
-A Tour Guide at the Underground Aquarium

You've just got to be kidding. Out of all of these, I'll be lucky if I hear from one. This is just really unbelievable. How long will I have to do this? I spend 4 hours a day looking for work...that's a part time job with NO pay. I'm in an internship of my own life, but without the credit. Hopefully there is a paying position at the end of this internship.

I've been throwing around the idea of going back to school. I can't do that until next year, because last year I made too much money. Even if I go back to school, I still have bills, and I won't even make it to January if I don't work now. Lord help me.

I think maybe I should clarify what I'm doing here. This is a way for me to release my tension and fears about not working, while (hopefully) laughing at my mistakes. I hope someone learns from my mistakes. This is therapy for me. I have a lot of talents, and I work very hard. But there are days when I feel like I'm losing it, and right now this is one. Every time I put myself out there, I try to keep my emotions neutral, just hoping and praying to at least get an interview. I'm exhausted and bummed right now, but I look forward to reading your comments; I realize then I'm not alone! :)

I know it's only been an hour since I put in my last application, but why are they not calling? If I got my application, I'd be on the phone immediately. I think I just want a farm now; grow my own food, become the crotchety recluse that kids are afraid of, make jam. Yeah, right now Jam sounds like the way to go. If I won a small number in the lottery and could pay off all my debt, then I'd not have to worry nearly as much :).

I really should eat something; I tend to get over dramatic when I'm hungry. Ha ha ha, I'm like Tuve's mom on "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"..."Oh, Tuve, Eat Something!" Because she doesn't know what to say. I'm going to eat a healthy lunch and then get back to the grind!

This is just a little dip before the obligatory bucking up. I'll be fine. I'm just venting because I am trying to get a freaking job, and it shouldn't be this hard.

Today's Song of the Day is "Moonshadow" by Kate Rusby. She's awesome.
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Moonshadow/5632483

Today is a Good Day to Panic.

2009-08-28T05:58:00.000-07:00

I've sent in more resumes, I've called more people in HR offices across Minnesota. Nothing. Wait, that's not true. The job I was most excited about emailed me back with an offer for furthering my education. Seriously, why do these schools think I will choose them when they don't even advertise as schools? I did get 4 calls, each from a different number, all belonging to the "CareerInstitute", who seem to have a monopoly on Jack-Holery. Every time I Google the incoming number, it's already been reported as a harassment number. Glad I'm on their list. At least it's my Google number, so they don't know my real number, and I can mark each call as SPAM, which I love (I feel bad for SPAM, it's not the worst product in the world, but here we've associated it with unwanted fakeness and fake meat. Sorry, SPAM. Sorry, Hawaii. I'll come to the museum to pay my respects :P...yes there is a SPAM museum, you didn't know that? I'm surprised).

It's the rain today; it's heightening my sense of doom. I notice more and more lately that doom never feels the impending me coming on. The rain is reminding me that if I want to curl up on the couch and fall into my PMS headfirst, I totally can. That's not good. How many re-runs of Charmed can I really watch? I will not make that batch of brownies, pulled out for such an occasion. No, I will go volunteer with my friend today, as planned. I like volunteering; gets me out of my head. Usually. There are some times when I meet a friend for a walk, or ride along while they shop or meet for lunch, that everywhere I go, I think, "Could I work here? I wonder if they're hiring. Can I see myself here? I wonder what they pay." This impending need to work is seeping into every part of my psyche. I wonder if it's my fault; if I just have a talent for finding the fake stuff, because the fake stuff looks like fun. That's got to be it. Jerks.

Yesterday I met with a dear dear friend in a wonderful part of St. Paul; the Crocus Hill/Grand Avenue area. We had a lovely fresh lunch at SHISH, a Middleastern/Greek place (highly recommended for their menu art alone, as well as the fantastic food), then walked around Grand Avenue for a while, as I am wont to do. I would love to work in one of the quirky little shops in that area, most disguised as houses. My friend and I talked about ourselves the right amount, laughed with each other at our mutual klutzery, and discussed a topic we often discuss: words and phrases. She is unwilling to use any phrase that she doesn't know the origin. She wouldn't use the phrase "white noise" until I looked it up for her. Also, there was a whole discussion about the phrase "picking your brain" that we had to work through. This is why we're such good friends; I love the nerdy research and trivia, and she loves the results. We started talking about words that don't belong in the English language. Ginormous. The embarrassing way Americans abbreviate everything, as if we're too lazy to say an entire word. As we talked, she commented that these words seem so childlike and young. As she said this, we saw a gummi worm on the pavement. We decided then and there, partly by accident that we would make a list of "Gummi Words" that irritate us and banish them from our vocabulary. I don't know where the list will be, but I like the idea.

So today I meet another friend, and we go do volunteer work. I am pumped about that. It'll be fun. We're doing Hoops for Hunger, packing 300,000 meals for starving people everywhere. I was so concerned by the Hoops part, when it's packing food. I think b/c it's in a sports center? I don't know, we'll have to find out. It's sponsored by the Lynx, which are a women's basketball team. That might be it. We're having a discussion about where we'll meet and where it actually is. Darn the Twin Cities for having more than one stadium!

Well, it's all sorted, we're good to go. We'll be in Minneapolis today, rather than St. Paul. When I moved here, I told myself I would be one of those people who likes both cities, not one or the other. But alas, it's true, you gravitate toward one city, whether you choose to or not. They are so different; Minneapolis is trendy and pricey, and St Paul has the classic architecture, the free stuff, the family stuff. I am a St. Paulian. I go to Minneapolis, when I need to :) It's not that I don't like it, I just prefer the laid back outdoorsier St. Paul (no offense, Lake Calhoun, I know you're very popular). Today I drink my tea to the volunteers. Cheers!

Today's Song of the Day is "When I Go" by Slow Club. I don't know why, the cadence just fits today.

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/When_I_Go/21337684

The Bright Side: A Lesson in Moving Furniture Whilst Wearing Rollerblades...Autobiographical

2009-08-26T13:28:00.000-07:00

Yesterday after my dental appointment, I was in a lot of pain (not your fault, Dr. Younger-than-me-by-one-month...Augh!), and upon further reflection, opted out of the job fair. It was a sales job fair, and it was in a really inaccessible part of town at exactly 5:00; rush hour central. I decided that any contacts I made would only see me as frazzled and looking dopey because my mouth hurt. Plus I secretly doubt there were any jobs available; these were companies wanting to advertise. Maybe I should be a conspiracy theorist. That doesn't pay well, but maybe I'd end up with a little cottage in the middle of nowhere like the Unabomber.

I did make a few contacts of my own, and called a few people in HR departments where I wouldn't mind working. I read this great article (the link is below) about marketing yourself as part of Tim's homework assignment last week. My boyfriend is currently in school for business with a minor in finance, so I've been following his classes without any pressure; free education, Bright Side number 1. I have a great handle on accounting principles, managerial accounting, Office 2007, and Business Communication, from whence this website came.

Anyway, I'm sure you're wondering what this has to do with Rollerblades. I've had a Bridget Jones' moment. I refuse to sit on my cushioned back side and do nothing while I wait for the world to notice I'm not spinning with it. I typically go walking with a friend most mornings, but lately it's been hit-or-miss; she has a job. I have a hard time motivating myself to work out alone, but I love Yoga and Irish Dancing (I had one lesson in Dublin from a Riverdancer, now I'm an expert :P), and those are things I'd rather do alone, as I can only imagine what I look like to others....something akin to a sea cow, I imagine. In my quest to find a job, somehow I have removed myself from the world. It was not intentional; everything fun costs money, and when you don't have it you tend to stay home. I'm fine with staying home, but I refuse to become less of a human by hermiting myself and watching daytime TV.

So Tim got me this great pair of Rollerblades last summer, which I tried to learn to do in the park out back, but then winter hit, so for Christmas he bought me ice skates (he's so sweet). I always used to watch ice skating on TV, and I'd turn the sound down and put my own music to the routines so that the beauty wouldn't be ruined by an announcer critiquing the performance. I always imagined it would be so exhilarating to be an ice skater, and the few times I did it, I'd gain some speed and feel invincible...I didn't fall much, and when I did it was because the dog was in the way. Seriously, one time I fell, and he grabbed the poofy on the top of my wool hat and ran off with it. Having said all that, I haven't Rollerbladed in about a year, and last summer equalled about 30 minutes in total. So today I decided to Rollerblade in the basement so no one would see me learning. I learned quickly that only the right Rollerblade has a break, and there are better ways to stop. I personally use appliances; washer, dryer, freezer, they work remarkably well, provided you don't get caught between them and the wall. So I was in oblivion, pretending to Rollerblade with my mp3 player blaring for about 45 minutes before I ran into a shelf and knocked all the stuff down. It was like a movie. Sleeping bags, air mattresses, inflatable kayaks all tumbled down on me. I couldn't' help but laugh as each object kept knocking the wind out of me, which just made it funnier. I put some of it back and began again and about 2 minutes later, realized that at some point Tim came downstairs (he was working next door) and saw me, sweating, red faced, still giggling, trying to do my cool figure skater arm movements (you know the ones). He started laughing and said, "Oh yeah, your life is so tough!" I realized he's right! I've spent so much time worrying about not working, I haven't been enjoying my life or the time I have to try and Rollerblade in the basement. Bright Side #2. Incidentally, I have GREAT music on my mp3 player, much of it fantastic for exercising alone. Bright Side #3. And I have a full basement in which I can Rollerblade, as well as appliances to use as brakes...Bright Side #4.

After being caught rollerblading, I decided to pack it up; it had been about an hour. I had put the coffee table on the love seat to give myself more room, but I realized that now I had nowhere to sit and take off my blades. I had fallen once on the floor (cement) and didn't want to fall again, but knew I couldn't sit without using gravity to an uncomfortable extent, so I decided to try and move the table. This is odd, because common sense is one of my personality traits. I saw it in my mind; I get the table just enough off the couch when I lose my footing and smash my nose into the coffee table as it lands back on the couch, then it bounces up to hit my face again. I resigned myself that this could happen and began. After some struggling, grunting and cynical laughter, the table landed on the floor with a crash. I sat on the couch and undid my Rollerblades. It's a good day.

This situation makes me realize that I often take the hard road to things. Straightforward things make me think there must be another way, a harder way. That's too easy. So I am taking this time to follow the advice of the website below, and reevaluating what I want out of a job, what I am qualified to do, and what I still want to learn. I know I want to work in an office. I could care less if I'm a temp, I just like the zen of office work. So relaxing, in a weird way (I always misspell weird...I don't like this word). So that's what I am doing, and I don't regret missing the job fair. There will be others, and I will be OK. Life is good when you can Rollerblade in the basement to great bands like Slow Club, English Beat, Jack Johnson and Solas. In honor of the fun, today the song of the day is "If Good Times Were Dollars" by Gaelic Storm.

Here's the link on marketing yourself:
http://www.hrstore.com/free/freeZ05.html

Here's the link to "If Good Times Were Dollars"
http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/If_Good_Times_Were_Dollars/20790268

What Ads Will I come Across Today?

2009-08-25T04:28:00.000-07:00

Good Morning. I realize it's early. Most people sleep like babies through thunderstorms; I wake up. For the last 45 minutes I've been trying to get a decent picture of lightning, but the dawn light and my lack of the right rhythm have annihilated that goal. Of course as soon as I walked away, lightning struck so close that all my silverware rattled in the drawer with the resounding thunder. Hrmmm, maybe it's better that I wasn't standing at the window. Oh well, moot point (annoying side note: moot point originates from Merry Old English, from the word for meeting, where lawyers would get together and debate hypothetical cases and topics, so the point, however debatable, is moot. I know, I don't get me either).

Speaking of moot points, I decided to take a look at Craigslist job ads (I'm KIDDING). I'm getting pretty good at spotting the scams. If it just says "Twin Cities" and doesn't list a name of a business, I'm out. If I can get paid 18 bucks an hour and training is provided, that's just a school website. Why would I go to your online school if you can't even advertise it as a school? Let me tell you what's out there this morning, that has just posted; hot off the presses...the...online...press, where there is no heat. But "Hot through the fibre-optic" just doesn't have that 20th century kick that I love so much.

There are ads for:

-A fantasy football company needs a PR person. That is an understatement. Seriously?

-I could make 1500 in 2 weeks, AND lose 15 pounds, if I commit my body to science. Maybe, if it was sponsored by the University of MN. Or sounded reasonable. (this is very therapeutic; when I write it out, it seems so ridiculous!) If they are serious, at 100 dollars a pound, what do I have to go through?

-Oromo Interpreter. Not in my arsenal of partial languages known. Habla Italiano?

-Sales - cold calling

-Sales - telemarketing

-Sales - inside sales...what is that? Cubicle to Cubicle?

-Storm Chaser...hmm, that could be fun. Oh, it's going to neighborhoods after storms and getting work to repair damages. Clever.

-Hm...That new pharmacy around the corner is about to open. We'll keep that on the back burner for now.

-Crowd Management for new University football stadium. Oooh, I hate crowds. It'd be like the crowd was one big panther, and I'd have to puff up as big as I could and look scary. Pass. I tend to hold my breath every time I puff up, and no one wants a repeat of what's been dubbed the Cirque du Soleil Incident of 2007.

-Deceased Debt Collector. Ummmm no. I don't want to shoot myself every time I come home. Sad!

This can't be easy for the employer either (although it's easier than usual because there are so many applicants out there). Poor store, trying to make the job sound so fun! Spend your nights and weekends at the Mall of America! Yay! C'mon gang, let's go! Actually, something down there might actually be doable. And I could go to Underwater Adventures with my membership pass. I could be the Stingray wrangler AT Underwater Adventures. That'd be fun.

Where is Mike Rowe when you need him? "You don't have to beg and steal and you don't have to rob; all you've got to do is get yourself a dirty job." Hm...dirty job around here: Lutefisk Factory. It's a thought, that's all I'm saying. I hear Minnesota makes more Lutefisk than Norway these days. In an odd business arrangement, Norway send us their cod. We Lutefisk it (sorry, I know that's not a verb, but the process is just so wrong) and stink up OUR fair city, and send it back. Correction. We send back about 15%. The rest we eat. True story, Minnesotans eat more Lutefisk than Norwegians. That's the taste of the Old Country that people hold on to; Lutefisk and Lefse. But I digress.

So this morning I will apply to at least two jobs (as I do every morning), I will go to my dental appointment and fix my cavity (it's best to do all this medical stuff when unemployed, keeps the costs above your head), and then I will go to a job fair. I actually am looking forward to the job fair. How funny would it be if there was a company there that was a social pariah, like on that episode of The Office? Classic.

The sun is coming up, the ground begins to soak up the torrent, and it's time for me to start the day. Today I drink my tea to the unemployed. Cheers!

Fretting About Not Having a Job, I Ended up Talking to the FTC.

2009-08-24T08:55:00.001-07:00

Do you wonder how all those scammers out there make their money? Do you think you're a savvy interneter, who will never fall for a scam...again? Let me tell you how stupid I was last week.

As you know, I've been applying to job after job after job. One day I sent out 9 applications/resumes, etc. So imagine my delight when I actually received an email from a real estate office (to which I had actually applied)! I got an email from Betty Young. Sweet Betty. She wanted to hire me to run errands and help in the office. I could even have a company credit card. She needed to know my credit score at this point in the process. Not any personal information at ALL, just a credit score number. She had a site for a free report that I could click on and everything...

I know my credit score. I am meticulous about my finances because I cant' afford to be defrauded. However, I hadn't gotten a report in 8 months, and figured this would be a decent time. I filled out the form, got my credit score (not bad at all!), and started to email her back. Suddenly, I thought, I wonder if this is for real. I googled Betty Young and her company, Logan Title, Inc. Yay! A real company, a real lady, picture and all! Wait. Why is she in Illinois? I thought this was a local job. So I call Betty. Poor Betty. She has already gotten 2 calls today, one from Florida, one from New York. Some scammer has used her name and title to get people to put in ALL their information and get a credit report from some dummy site. They even copied her email, off by one letter. I'm told to call the Federal Trade Commission and report it. So I call Eduardo at the FTC, who takes my statement and tells me to call the local police and call him back with a confirmation number.

I learned that my local police HATE this kind of call. There's nothing they can do about it, and they are exponentially irritated if the dispatcher doesn't tell them why they're coming out. So he shows up, ready to deal with a domestic dispute or who knows what (they really don't like that), and here I am, some dumb blonde who just gave out her social security number, though she's NEVER fallen for a scam before. So of course, he treats me like an idiot. "You applied for a job on Craigslist, what did you think was going to happen?" Somehow I was charming enough that after about 10 minutes he lost his attitude and, even though I had already typed everything up as an incident report, typed my whole story (no offense, officer, but I typed faster). He tells me since I'm so Internet savvy, I should start my own business (clearly I fell for this scam because I was so desperate for a job....which was true). Noting my own lack of self confidence, I asked him what I should do. He says I should type up documents for local businesses. I told him all those jobs were scams. :) He says to go get my own companies. I asked him if the local police were hiring. You with all your solutions! In the end, he was very nice, and empathy came out. It's tough out there...you want to jump on every opportunity to work, and scammers know that.

In the end, Officer Empath and I did a bit more research on the site. I never mailed my credit score to the fake email, so likely the scam was not completed. The credit report web site appeared to be actually real, so likely my information is safe. I still have my doubts, though...what kind of real business website ends in .net? The officer thinks, more likely there is a company that gets paid for referring people to the credit site (there was a 3rd site that flashed real quick before the site loaded). I followed the FTC's suggestions, though. I called Experian and put an alert on my social, I put a hold on my cards for 30 days, and spent 3 hours on the phone, trying to cover my mistake. If only I had called Betty FIRST, that would have saved me so much time and strife!

Learn from me, people. By Law, companies cannot ask to run a credit check unless they have actually offered you the position, and you have to sign a waiver. Any sort of credit check or credit application should be done in PERSON, or done through a secure website owned by the company to which you are applying.

Here's the email; it looked so real.

Thanks for your interest in our office position. Just to restate the job duties for clarity, you will be answering the phone, scheduling meetings, and running company errands in a company car. When running errands you will be provided with a company credit card to make supply purchases, etc.

We have had some bad experiences with prior employees taking advantage of having access to a company credit card in the past, so before we can schedule an interview, we need you to get a credit check. We prefer you use http://www.freecreditscore360.net to obtain this information. When you submit your information they will send you your credit score. When you email me your credit score, we can schedule an interview. Please do not email me your credit report, as this may have private information in it. Just send me your credit score. If you have a low credit score, that will not prevent you from having an interview with us, as we just need to make sure you are an honest individual.

Please send me your schedule with availability. I am looking forward to your response, thanks.

Bonnie YoungOperations ManagerLogan County Title CompanyBonnie@logancountytitleinc.com
www.logancountytitleinc.com

So I chalk this up to experience, but I learn more and more everyday that experience does not put food on the table (not that I am low on food...I am very blessed with food....I repeat: Do not send food).

Searching for Jobs and Chutzpah

2009-08-24T07:37:00.001-07:00

So I am in week three of hitting the job application market hard core. I applied to over 20 posts last week alone; of these over 20, I received one actual response, 2 scam attempts (boy those guys at the FTC are actually really nice) and a sea of nothingness.

Last week I talked myself into retail and built up enough convincing chutzpah and excitement to go in to a popular bookstore and apply. Please don't think that I am above retail. I am not above retail. I am just so overqualified for a part time position at the bottom rung of a business at my age (don't say the 3-0 word until I hit it in 2 weeks, deal?) that it was, let's say a big step for me to actually convince myself I could do it again. I walked in to the store, handed my application over to the manager who was shorter than or equal to my 5'1" with a handshake like a rotten fish....at least it would have been if he would have shook my hand, I'm sure of it. He stood there, not looking at it, not looking at me and not saying anything, so I awkwardly told him I had a gift card to spend and would be lingering in the store. He replied that I would get a call that week if they decided to hire me. Apparently my appearance alone is enough to garner a job. Or not. No interview was mentioned. I meandered to the table of "buy 2 get one free" and actually started to put my worry aside as I read the back of books I thought were funny and interesting for my palette. Life is going to be fine. Sure, I can do this job. No problem (this is an inner pep talk for my benefit, because the excitement and chutzpah wear off after 30 minutes, and have to be conjured again). I am reading the back of a novel based on Southern women, knowing this would be fun, and also imagining the pile of books I have at home; the pile from my brother over the years that I JUST told him I was getting through, when (let's call him) Bob walks up to me and starts up a conversation. Bob is pushing his mid sixties, wearing a navy blue suit that doesn't fit well, and sweat is escaping from his receding hair line. Bob used to work here. Bob was a safety officer. Bob comes by and visits the people at this store all the time, because that's the nice thing to do. Bob is a deacon at his church, pentecostal; do I go to church? Bob can't see I'm trying to find 3 good books so I can get a deal. Bob doesn't notice that I. Am. Reading. I start to think; maybe the manager sent Bob to me to test my people skills. I politely listen and fill in just enough of my side of the conversation while trying to ignore him, to which he is oblivious. "I was raised in a Baptist Church." "Actually, Baptists DO believe in the Holy Ghost, Bob." "Yes, a Boyfriend." "No, not JUST a boyfriend." As he continues talking, I find myself thinking 2 things simultaneously.

1.) Oh gosh, I really really really hope this is a ghost, and only I can see him. That would be so much better for my ego right now; why do the crazies always find me?

2.) Oh man. Every time I worked in retail there was that guy who came in, who was just a little off and unemployed (they know they are the PERFECT catch), and he always came in because he knew I would be there at least 20 hours a week and he could follow me around and creep me out. I forgot about that. Sad; this is SO not what I want. And my chutzpah left me.

I decided to go next door to Macy's. It could be fun to be a beauty counter girl. As luck would have it, wandering through the kitchen department, I saw a sign for a human resources department. I took this as a sign that it was meant to be. I walked in confidently, and less repulsed than at the previous location, walked right up to the counter and said (mellifluously, if I do say so myself), "Is Macy's hiring at the moment?" Smile, check. Shoulders back, check. A lovely looking woman walked past and smiled at me. Oh yeah, I could do Macy's. The septuagenarian behind the counter put her hand to her ear and said, "eh?" "Is Macy's hiring right now?" Again, she says, "What?" Chutzpah, don't fail me now! "I'D LIKE TO WORK AT MACY'S, HOW MAY I APPLY?" She smiled, as if that would be the most wonderful thing in the world, me at Macy's. She directed me to a hiring kiosk "down by the elevator," that sadly, didn't exist. Maybe it did in 1967. Don't get the wrong idea. I ADORE the elderly, and have no issue with them working, I have great respect for them. These thoughts come from a frustrated place because I just want a freaking job, ok? And if I'm willing to (in my mind) settle for retail, throw me a bone, ok? This is why people eat whole cartons of ice cream (which I did NOT, by the way....I drank my calories with a Grape Crush over lots of ice).

I wandered back into the bookstore, thinking I would get some beautiful stationery for my friend and I, who, in our dreams of old fashioned lovely things have decided to become pen pals. With paper and stamps and everything. So I thought I would use my gift card to buy us some fun stationery for getting started. I was downstairs when who found me? That's right; Bob the sohisticatedly lacking, socially handicapped, "oh a boyfriend, nothing too serious then," lawsuit-waiting-to-happen Bob. Crap. I immediately went for the escalator, and began walking up the stairs as he called out after me that there was free water upstairs. Oh, wonderful. Let's sit and get to know each other over a free glass of water. I'm still so sure he meant the drinking fountain. Anyway, I walked up the stairs until I subconsciously came into the personal space of Lovely-pink-sweater-lady, who was, in turn, creeped out by me as I tried to make an escape. I left the store, praying he wasn't following me to the parking lot, when I noticed Lovely-pink-sweater-lady thought I was following her, making me...Bob.

So clearly this is all about perspective. I'm a great catch for an employer. I'm never late, I'm uber organized, I love getting stuff done. I've managed people...not just people, college students...I've put college students together on a schedule, while letting them keep their crazy ones. That is not easy, my friend. I can budget. I know all my computer programs. This is nothing that my potential employees can see, at least not in a way that's making perfect strangers want to hire me. I'm Bob to the places to which I've applied. UGH! My perspective (since I choose to refuse the idea that I'm a LOSER) is that it's tough for everyone right now, and like it or not, many companies hire based on referrals from the inside. All my referrals are still at my last job, and I will not be going back there.

The search continues. I'll let you know how it goes. I may end up with Bob after all. But wouldn't it be nice to do something I like? Or at least get full time hours so I can pay the bills? Please don't hate me if I turn down this position (if they even offer it to me). I am a proud person, and even in my destitution, I don't want to settle for a job I don't love. I want to be challenged, I want to be a vital part of a greater team. I want to succeed emotionally, and keep my brain from being able to go on autopilot all the time. I love my brain; I'd like to keep it.