tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64172416990091021942024-03-08T17:26:53.263-06:00Reddish MusingsI think I'm having a thought...~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-66092062820605081572010-05-30T08:35:00.000-05:002010-05-30T08:35:17.137-05:00The Future AwaitsSo many decisions to make, and so very little time to make them in. I have 2 semesters left in my undergraduate career. Two semesters in which I need to make straight A's to bring up my dragging GPA. I like to joke that falling in love messed up my GPA, but I think I can honestly say that I would not have gone to class the first two years of college even if I had not met my then-boyfriend now-husband. The first two years were Grade 13, and they were entirely pointless to the furtherance of my education.<br />
<br />
That said, my GPA is floating around a 3.45, and I'd really like to see it bumped to at least a 3.5 before I start my applications. This is where making a name for myself really comes into play. I need to study hard for the GRE (I just registered for it!) to show that I am more capable than my GPA would have the reviewers believe. I need to make nice with my professors so that they know my name and will be inclined to write me a few letters of recommendation. And because I'm tired of being the quiet girl who makes A's on the tests but never wants to say anything out loud.<br />
<br />
But there are bigger battles than the GRE and my current grades. I have to decide Big Things, like where I want to live and what I want to do.<br />
<br />
Sure, I've gotten by saying "I'm going to be a clinical psychologist!" for a while now, but I haven't been able to answer the question, "But who do you want to counsel?" Because it's hard! I've grown up as an overweight, middle class white girl who got a full ride scholarship to an okay school. I know I deal with anxiety and depression, and my sister has autism, but overall I haven't been exposed to a great deal of psychological variety in my life.<br />
<br />
Part of picking a graduate school that is crucial is finding a school with faculty that have similar interests to yourself. Well, what are my interests? <br />
<br />
I talked a lot about studying autism as I was growing up, but I think I've come to realize that I am too close to the issue. I don't know if 17 years of dealing with an autistic family member would help me or hurt me when it came to helping families deal with these issues.<br />
<br />
I probably would not deal well with autistic children on their own. I could probably assist in helping families deal with autism, in helping them understand that it's not their fault, and they should not feel guilty for being overwhelmed by the disorder sometimes. That would be nice. But can I make a corner market on that? Or should I focus on something more vague?<br />
<br />
My current drive is helping people feel okay with themselves as they are. That sounds fruity and vague, but I think I can boil it down into more scientific terms. I'm probably the biggest fan of cognitive-behavioral therapy. I believe what you think about yourself determines how you feel about yourself, and informs how you act. I believe anxiety and depression are rooted in self-destructive thought patterns that are self-reinforcing. I believe that some aspects of yourself are unchanging, and some aspects are completely within your realm of control. AND I believe that adolescents in particular have an absolutely terrible time picking out what they DO have control over and what they do not.<br />
<br />
I think I could do the most good reaching out to the "forgotten" class of adolescents. There are degrees for child psychology, and adult psychology, but few seem to focus purely on that transitional period where multitudes of problems seem to either begin gestating, or fully blossom forth. Eating disorders, self-injury, depression, anxiety, suicide, additions, sexual promiscuity, bullying, sexual questioning and shame at the answer, overly risky behaviors all over the place. <br />
<br />
My heart goes out to gay or questioning kids who can't find a safe haven to accept themselves. I cry for girls like me who can't figure out what to do with their bodies, so they let them lapse into obesity or work them to frailty and death. Social injustice makes my head and heart hurt because I know it's more than just a societal problem. It hurts every single person in the neglected, prejudiced, hated categories, and they are all PEOPLE who deserve the same rights and respect and chance at happiness that everyone gets.<br />
<br />
So... maybe that is where I want to focus. But how do you quantify that? "At-risk youth" is probably a good term for it, I guess. There are so many layers in each of these though. There's depression, anxiety, poverty, personality, age, developmental psychology, etc. And faculty at these schools tend to focus on narrow targets within these realms.<br />
<br />
But if I'm honest about my passions, and I try to match with different topics the faculty study, I should be okay. That's just where my Personal Statement (how do I write that? Argh.) comes into play the most, I guess.<br />
<br />
So I'm working on it. <br />
<br />
I'm deciding to work backwards. Instead of finding schools in places I like, I'm looking over the list of schools that are APA certified, going through the faculty and the funding, and the programs and everything I can get my hands on, and seeing how the schools sound. Then we'll look at locations.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, that means I may have to move away from my family. Which is something I haven't even tried thinking about. I used to strive to get out of Texas ASAP when I was a kid, but I never stopped and thought about the guilt and difficulty that would go into leaving the family behind for a while. <br />
<br />
And thus, the future awaits, and I just have to figure out how the heck to get to it.~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-13861061840084985512010-05-25T18:04:00.000-05:002010-05-25T18:04:11.152-05:00Data Entry - So Glamorous.Speaking as someone who has shown the ability to type upwards of 130 words per minute, I am going to shock even myself with what I'm about to say:<div><br />
</div><div>I really hate doing data entry.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Maybe it's just the specific kind of data entry I'm doing (insurance forms), but I'm sorely disappointed by how it has turned out. I envisioned a cubicle with stacks and stacks of papers that I would go through and enter information from, verbatim, until I was blue in the face. That, menial as it may sound, actually appealed to me.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Instead, we have this technology that allows you to scan in all those stacks of papers, and it tries to read them for you. And it fails, miserably. But it becomes my job to skim every unique form for useful information, all the while double-checking what the computer has assumed it was trying to say (and it is hardly ever right in its assumption). I guarantee my job would be done faster and more accurately if they would just let me erase everything and type from the beginning. Instead, I make mistakes, because I made the error of assuming that the "helpful" technology was actually going to be right with any manner of consistency.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's infuriating after long enough. Every form turns into a maze of useless information, while I skim and probably give myself eye strain out the wazoo trying to find the little tidbits of alphanumerical data floating around on the pages (and each form looks entirely different from the last).</div><div><br />
</div><div>The days drag on, and on. If it weren't for amusing podcasts that keep my brain active, I probably would have put my 2 weeks in already. Today was hell, though. </div><div><br />
</div><div>It's just incredibly frustrating to have a job that should, by all rights, be entirely repetitive and tedious and boring, but is instead always teetering on the edge of those things. It's boring enough to make me tired, but it's not repetitive enough to allow me to get into a "flow," and let the work go fast and easy. Every new form is like a new stumbling block, with a different layout, and different crap I have to remember to pay attention to or completely ignore, based on utterly arbitrary standards that I was never trained on in the first place. Having never had testicles, I can't say for sure, but I imagine the perpetual feeling of <i>almost</i> getting into the swing of things are what blue balls feel like.</div><div><br />
</div><div>So, I'm trying to focus my brain on constructive things instead of letting it stagnate. I'm focusing on my future school decisions, my future career decisions, amusing blogs I can come up with in the future, and so on. I don't know how long I can keep this up, though. Can I survive the Summer? Tune in next time. </div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-2778046743300092212010-05-06T18:37:00.000-05:002010-05-06T18:37:06.511-05:00Memory Full - Please Delete Something<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Perhaps it's just the spirit of Finals Week that has be waxing philosophical about the room in my mind, but a thought occurred to me just now. Here I sat, gazing idly at a review sheet for a comprehensive final in Abnormal Psychology, feeling the words hit my eyes and bounce away into nothingness. No matter how hard I try to focus on a textbook, a review sheet, my notes, any written word that I want to absorb into my comprehension, I just can't seem to do it.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I just feel like my mind is full, and there's nothing I can do to cram any more knowledge into it.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">The problem, though, is that my mind is not full of useful information. It's not full of things I will carry with me into my career. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I make fun of my husband sometimes, because as an roleplaying game enthusiast, he seems to have book after book after book of completely useless trivia filed away in that brain of his, so much so that I wonder how he manages to get anything worthwhile in there. He swears he does fine on his exams, and I trust him, it's just curious.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">But that's not what my mind is full of. It used to be full of facts about Pokemon, then facts about Buffy, then facts about World of Warcraft... </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Now? Now it's just... it's full of instances where I've made a fool of myself.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">It's appalling the amount of historical data I can compile about times where I looked like an idiot (to myself), where I screwed up, where things did not go right because of my own shortcomings.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">And I'm really tired of it.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I want to have room for silly trivia about things I love. I want to have room for my future career.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I can't help anyone with this knowledge I'm currently carrying around like baggage full of bricks. It's certainly not helping me. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">It's time to let it go. It's time to stop listening. It's time to live.</span></span></div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-55998755064416489062010-04-21T19:21:00.000-05:002010-04-21T19:21:30.586-05:00Cleanliness - A TreatiseAll right, so, I have something slightly embarrassing to admit:<br />
<br />
I don't like taking showers.<br />
<br />
I've never liked taking baths or showers. Even as a kid, I remember it always being something of a struggle to convince me to get clean. The problem is not that I <i>enjoy being dirty</i>. No, the problem is now, and I suspect it was then, that showering has always seemed utterly pointless.<br />
<br />
My first point: <b>Showering is unproductive.</b> What can you really DO in the shower? You can sing, I guess, but Oscar Wilde would argue that, since music is a form of art, that is useless. You can brainstorm, MAYBE. But unless you have some kind of magic writing device that functions in water-based environments, you won't really be able to retain many of your ideas. I guess you could hold a debate, if you had someone willing to stand in the bathroom and argue with you while you lather up. But overall, nothing really gets done.<br />
<br />
Some people get a therapeutic use out of showering, but I just don't. I can count on one hand the amount of times I've gotten home at the end of the day and looked forward to hopping in the bath, <i>and</i> enjoyed my time under the spray. So, for some, I guess, there is a use, but it still feels entirely pointless.<br />
<br />
"But Red," you might say, "isn't getting clean productive? Isn't shaving and shampooing and washing an end result?"<br />
<br />
Maybe. But it's not a very good result, because... and here's my second point: <b>Showering does not fix the problem it intends to fix. </b>Sure, it might get you clean for a second. But, living in Texas, I know firsthand that sometimes I start sweating and feeling gross again <i>before I am even out of the shower at all.</i> And maybe your cleanliness lasts for a few hours, but before you know it, you've gone outside. You've produced sweat, your hair has gotten oily, your legs have gotten prickly, and the next day you're back where you started. It's <i>maddening</i> to me.<br />
<br />
I just can't really get behind it. However, society demands that I not stink, and I understand that request, I just wish showering didn't feel like such a time sink. It feels like a chore, not something I enjoy. And the older you get, the more stuff you have to do while you're in there! As a kid, it was basically: Soap up, wash off, get out. Then it was: Soap up, shampoo up, rinse off, get out. <br />
<br />
Now? The ritual goes: Shampoo hair, rinse out, wash face with daily pore cleansing lather**, rinse off, condition hair***, rinse out, soap up with scent-free dove soap because my skin is terribly allergic to everything, rinse off, shave armpits, shave legs, tend to lady bits, rinse everything off, dry off, apply lotion, apply powder...<br />
<br />
And I'm sure with this list I am not even doing half of the things a Modern Lady is expected to do. Because I <i>don't care</i> about all of that. All of this is JUST to maintain the absolute minimum amount of health and cleanliness I can bear. <br />
<br />
** Face Wash Sidenote: I used to have perfect skin. I'd get a pimple every now and then when I put my face in my hands too much, but I never experienced this "acne" thing, and barely had a greasy face or head at all. Then I got the Mirena IUD. Sure, 5 years of not worrying about spawning SexFruit is great, but if I still had insurance I would contemplate getting it removed simply because of what it has done to my HEAD.<br />
<br />
My hair gets greasy within hours of showering. It used to be bouncy and full of wave, and now it's often flat at the top due to the oiliness that I can't seem to get rid of. And my <i>face.</i> Ugh, my face. I feel like I need to wash it every hour on the hour. I can <i>feel it</i> now. I can <i>feel</i> my face getting oily and it just won't stop and aa;sdfja;slkfj aaaaaugh. There's gotta be something I can do. Maybe a hormone balancing act? I don't know, but it's driving me nuts. Anyway.<br />
<br />
*** Conditioning Sidenote: I HATE CONDITIONER. When possible, I buy shampoo/conditioner combinations, because I <i>detest</i> the feeling of conditioner in my hair. I was raised to wash the feeling of soapiness completely off of me, and conditioner never really leaves your hair. That's the point of it. I understand that logically, but some minor obsessive-compulsive aspect of me goes berserk when <i>I can still feel it.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>*deep breaths*</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Anyway. Showering. It's my least favorite chore, one that I am making myself pay attention to and do daily, because that's what adults do. It's always the last thing I want to do during a day, which is the real reason I normally take them at night. <br />
<br />
It's just not fair that everything else in my life can get washed while I attend to other things (dishes, laundry, etc.), but I can't just hop in a cleansing suit and get on with my life while it goes through a cleaning cycle?<br />
<br />
Come on, Science. Catch up!~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-87600823019763636502010-04-15T10:37:00.001-05:002010-04-15T10:38:53.919-05:00Banning Books is Bad. Yes, even THOSE books.I'm going to do something shocking.<br />
<br />
I'm going to defend the Twilight series.<br />
<br />
...okay, back from puking in my mouth a little.<br />
<br />
All right, so, much like any other popular young adult fiction in this decade, the Twilight series are under attack from "concerned" parents. These parents are so concerned with what their children are reading that they are challenging the books' rights to be in public libraries.<br />
<br />
Now, part of me quails at the idea that this means <i>Twilight</i> and <i>Harry Potter</i> are somewhat related to each other. In fact, according to <a href="http://scifiwire.com/2010/04/libraries-say-a-lot-of-pe.php">this article</a>, <i>Harry Potter</i> books aren't even in the top 10 of challenged books anymore, meaning <i>Twilight</i> is beating the HP series at something. Even if that "something" is really "pissing off Christian parents who can't be bothered to actually investigate what their children read," that just isn't right. Come on, pastors! Keep preaching the evils of black magic over the evils of lame vampires!<br />
<br />
I kid.<br />
<br />
Whenever I hear about books being challenged, banned, or burned, it makes me angry. I don't care what is in the book, how much I like or dislike the material, the author, the characters, any of it. The idea that someone out there can decide what is okay for me to read angers me. <br />
<br />
But these parents have been on crusades since public libraries began, I imagine. There have always been "edgy" authors who endorse sex, magic, drugs, alcohol, and anything else that these people feel will cause their children to immediately join gangs and go to jail without passing Go. There will always be misguided parents who feel that the only way they can keep their children in line is to purify the world around them, rather than encouraging their children to make good decisions based on their shared morals. It's sad, really. <br />
<br />
The idea that libraries should not be allowed to carry these books at ALL shows no trust in your children, no ability in yourself to monitor what your children read, and an obnoxious arrogance to assume you can control OTHER people's reading choices.<br />
<br />
However, like I said, these little wars against books have been happening for a long time, so I don't really waste my time getting worked up over every indictment against a novel with dirty things in it.<br />
<br />
What upsets me this time around is that some people are supporting it, only because it's <i>Twilight.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I get it. I do. I don't like the books, either. But before we all grab our torches and pitchforks, remember who you're giving the power by joining the fight. You are not giving power to the intelligent elites on the internet. You are not giving power to people with good taste. You're giving power to people who argue that Pokemon endorses communion with demons. You're giving power to people who think<a href="http://www.everythingisterrible.com/2010/04/hogwarts-school-of-evil-and-devil.html"> Harry Potter teaches you how to kill people with "Latin Words."</a> You're giving power to people who wanted to ban Shel Silversteins <i>A Light In The Attic</i> because it had "<a href="http://www.infoplease.com/spot/banned-kids-books.html">a suggestive illustration that might encourage kids to break dishes so they won't have to dry them</a>." <br />
<br />
If you don't like <i>Twilight</i>, that is completely okay. You're not alone. But I'm pretty sure I read some books that other people don't like. I also know that it's way more fun to bicker about taste in books than it is to all read nothing but <i>The Bible*</i> all day.<br />
<br />
So, encourage people to read better things. Don't ban them from reading the bad things.<br />
<br />
~Red<br />
<br />
*Nevermind the part where <i>The Bible</i> has a lot of magic, sex, drugs, and murder in it, too. Somehow that always gets overlooked.~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-10068249014375445032010-04-12T09:50:00.003-05:002010-04-12T10:00:10.144-05:00The itch in my fingers...I've got a problem.<div><br /></div><div>I want to write something. Is that a problem? It feels like it is. Especially since I haven't written anything in years. Years? I can't remember putting pen to paper in a creative fashion since the beginning of high school. </div><div><br /></div><div>Granted, I guess blogging counts, to some degree, as "writing," but it's so very self-involved compared to where I want to be. I get tired of writing about my introspection, my personal issues, my growth and development (which soon turns into failure and starting over). I'd rather write about those things behind the veil of a fictional character. That's what the pros do, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>I think most of this comes from my husband's Creative Writing class. Listening to and reading the stories people write (poorly) just sparks all sorts of different worlds and ideas that I want to explore. But I don't know where to start.</div><div><br /></div><div>I won't let that keep me from it, this time, though. </div><div><br /></div><div>I told my friend the other day that I feel like I've let myself be mediocre too long. I've let myself hide. That has to stop. </div><div><br /></div><div>No more hiding. No more fear. Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to anger. Anger leads to... Lordy I spent this weekend doing far too many nerdy things.</div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-4886993323754091242010-03-10T20:03:00.003-06:002010-03-10T20:24:37.857-06:00How's Married Life?There is one question I get asked on a semi-daily basis, and yet I have still been unable to come up with an acceptable answer. You'd think all the practice I get fielding the question would allow me to have some kind of stock answer, but one just does not seem to be viable.<div><br /></div><div>That question is, for those not paying attention, "So, how's married life?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I work (not for very much longer) in an office, and as such, I am acquainted with quite a few people that I see on a less than regular basis. In fact, the interrogation room is often a location where workers from all corners of the office occasionally meet up, like the coffee pot or the bathroom. I say "interrogation," because that question, no matter how it is phrased or who does the asking, always makes me feel like a giant spotlight just got shined on my personal life, and I must do my best to say something satisfactory, without revealing or concealing too much. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is very similar to the feeling someone much more anxious than me would get when asked "How are you doing today?" The Social Contract dictates you answer with some variant of "Oh, doing fine, yourself?" But how does one respond to this gentle prying into a deeper topic? Especially at the gossip mill that is an office?</div><div><br /></div><div>In my head, I know the question really just means "I haven't seen you in a while and I hear you're married, so I'm going to really just ask 'How are you doing?' while acknowledging I know of your change in life status." </div><div><br /></div><div> But in my heart, the question comes out much more like "Tell me how you feel about being married, so that I may judge you, worry about you, sympathize with you, or be suspicious of you, based on how little or how much you tell me." </div><div><br /></div><div>Being in an office is... a difficult environment to predict and therefore a difficult place to answer questions truthfully or with any real confidence. It's not like family, though some treat it that way. If an Aunt asked me "How's married life treating you?" I would know that they do really care about me, and probably want to hear about some adventure my new husband and I went on, but overall are just checking on me.</div><div><br /></div><div>If a coworker asks me how being married is, it can really mean:</div><div>- Isn't being married terrible? I hate my husband/wife and feel so trapped. Say something negative so I can laugh and be cynical with you.</div><div>- Why did you get married so young? You're so young! Say something immature so I can reconcile this cognitive dissonance.</div><div>- I don't really care I'm just here for some dang coffee move over</div><div>- I'm so happy for you! You're so sweet and I'm so glad you've found your soulmate! Say something super gushy and romantic so I can squee with you!</div><div>- I'm just asking how you're doing like normal, proceed with an average response or I will give you a weird look that says "please stop talking now"</div><div><br /></div><div>The truth?</div><div><br /></div><div>Married life is no different than my unmarried life with my then-fiance, except my paycheck is slightly bigger due to a tax break and nobody will give us disapproving glances if they see we live together. Maybe the lack of a difference is BECAUSE we lived together before we got married (shock, awe), but... I dunno. To me, if getting married completely flips your world on its head, then maybe you shouldn't have done it. I married my best friend. We lived and functioned as one unit before we were legally wed. All the marriage did was give us a piece of paper to prove to the government and prying eyes that we're legit.</div><div><br /></div><div>Married life has some struggles. He does things differently than I do, and our respective futures aren't set in stone. Married life has some great perks, like someone who loves me regardless of how weepy or crazy I feel that day, and someone to cuddle up and watch Mystery Science Theater with. But I technically had both of these things before I got married, so I still don't see the huge leap here.</div><div><br /></div><div>If you never touched, cuddled, kissed, fought with, got frustrated at, experienced bliss with, did things for, went out of your way for, talked about money with, talked about kids with, talked about your future with, had a bad day with, had a good day with, had a terrible day with, had a fantastic day with, or <b>really loved</b> your partner before you married them, then why did you ever marry them to begin with? And why do you assume these things will change just because of a ring on my finger?</div><div><br /></div><div>So in short: Married life is great/fine/okay/oh y'know/all right/the same/doing well. Thank you for asking.</div><div><br /></div><div>God help me if/when we ever have a kid.</div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-23756025831950399432009-07-10T18:29:00.002-05:002009-07-10T18:44:29.480-05:00Office Drama.Office drama has always seemed absolutely ridiculous to me. There's no point in getting up in each other's faces when the very environment separates us into our own little cubes. My goal when I work in an office is to sit in my cube, not talk to anyone, do my job, and do it well. It is not to earn appreciation from the bosses, it is not to show off my ability to learn faster than the average office citizen, it is not to have how many tasks I do a day counted and touted to the rest of the group.<div><br /></div><div>So I don't really dig this tactic of group cohesiveness and competitiveness. I've been working there all of 2 weeks, and my name is topping the lists of what is done each day, and I hate it. I've gone so far as to try and slow my pace down and goof off a little in order to avoid being recognized.</div><div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, I cannot work slowly. I cannot work sub-par. I make mistaks, as I am human and often full of foibles. I ask a lot of questions to ensure those mistakes don't happen again, however, and they normally don't. There is absolutely no way that I have found to make my brain stop working at the pace it's used to, and the same goes for doing computer work in an office. Even when the goal is "slow down and make each task last longer" I find myself clicking and alt-tabbing just as efficiently as before.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's a curse, I swear.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just realized this is like my "I hate making good grades" rant from high school - there is no way to discuss this without sounding like an arrogant jerk. Oy. </div><div><br /></div><div>At any rate - office drama. Everything from memos to emails to refilling the coffee maker can offset some kind of office rage in your standard cubicle worker. The funny thing is that everyone in an office tends to express their issues the same way - passive aggression. Very few people in a quiet, sedate office environment, where everyone stays in their little cages, are going to start yelling and punching others in the face.</div><div><br /></div><div>No, we resort to tactics like post-it notes, messages on the dry-erase boards, intra-office instant messages, talking behind each other's backs at the coffee refill station, and, the topper of all passive aggressive moves - CCing the boss on an email exchange.</div><div><br /></div><div>The BossCC tends to indicate that you are not only frustrated with someone - you want their supervisor to know about it. You think they are at fault for something, and should be punished. You think they are in trouble for what they've done or failed to do, and you are not content to merely sit on your hands and let it wash over. No, you want the boss to hear about this!</div><div><br /></div><div>It's childish.</div><div><br /></div><div>But what if something has happened the boss <i>does</i> need to know about? What if the system has hiccuped and is duplicating assignments and making 2 people work the same task, for example? What part of CCing the boss while you contact the person you're accidentally sharing a task with (to let them know of the mistake, nothing else), is passive aggressive? There's not ANY kind of aggression in that email, and yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was not a bad day, just an interesting look at how people prefer to handle things. There originally was no blame to be had for the system being stupid, but somehow it turned into my fault to the other person, and he'd prefer if we just handle it ourselves next time, okay? No need to bring the boss into it!</div><div><br /></div><div>/eyeroll</div><div><br /></div><div>The world does not revolve around you any more than it revolves around me. I'm the new girl, what could I stand to gain by throwing someone under the bus for something that very obviously is just a technical error? What could possibly be garnered from an email of "Oh whoops we're both working this and I finished mine, have you finished?" full of smilies and an explanation for what's going on, could indicate that I was trying to get someone in trouble?<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Meh. One of those situations where you have to shrug, guess they were having a bad day, and move on, I suppose.</div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-18709191298411383902009-06-28T09:29:00.002-05:002009-06-28T10:01:22.372-05:00I'm a Mutant.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a141/nokora/Me/12_XRay_Arm.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a141/nokora/1246124805.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a141/nokora/1246124805.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div>This is an enlarged X-Ray of my thumb joint. See that little sun icon on the picture? That's the cursor the doc was using to move the image around, so I'm not <i>that</i> strange of a mutant. But just to the left of that on the picture? That little orb that looks like what those ghost hunters get so excited about?</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah, that shouldn't be there. But it's not the FIRST time this has happened to me. It is the first time it seems to have happened for no reason, so I guess my body is learning to use its powers without any catalyst. I don't know how I feel about that.</div><div><br /></div><div>The first time this happened, as far as I know, was in response to a sprained or possibly chipped elbow bone. The sprain happened, at this point, 11 years ago, and I could never straighten my arm out or use it for much support from that point. The folks and I always figured it was because I didn't do enough of the "exercises" the doctors gave me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Turns out, the real problem was this monstrosity:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a141/nokora/Me/12_XRay_Arm.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">That is my left elbow joint. And the circled object is the egg-shaped growth that was keeping my arm from being functional for NINE YEARS. By that time, the doctor was wondering if he should even bother taking it out, but my question was: A) It probably didn't start that size, right? And B) What if it keeps growing?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Never mind the arthritic possibilities of keeping that in my <i>joint.</i> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So it looks like the new pain in my thumb could stem from the irritation caused by the new activity I was doing at Target, what with lifting and carrying boxes pretty often. I'm hoping that it'll die down as the activity does.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Some people would suggest carpal tunnel as a possibility. That makes a lot of sense, as I've been a heavy computer user for most of my existence. However, I use the computer less now than I did a few years ago, the symptoms weren't anything like any carpal tunnel symptoms I could find on the internet, and the pain only started after the Target job did.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Which leads me to my next segment:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><hr /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I quit!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I quit without working out the last of my two weeks! I feel <i>horrible</i> for it, but I also feel some strange gratification for making a decision that makes <i>me</i> happy and makes life easier for me. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />The main conflict arose when I realized first I'd be working 50-60+ hours a week for a couple weeks, for no benefit to myself. My new job is double the hours and double the pay, and it's perfect for me. Sitting around typing all day with people who like me and who I like back. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The kicker really came when the HR manager came by after I had given my initial 2 weeks notice and tried to make me feel GUILTY for leaving, and then tried to tell me I should stay longer while they have to go through the arduous process of finding someone to replace me.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm sorry, Target. I really didn't want to make life harder on the girls who actually work in the Bakery, but when the management tries to make me feel guilty for moving on, and tries to manipulate me into staying longer than I'm contractually obligated to, claiming that it's <i>hard</i> to find people to work in <i>this economy</i>?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth. So I left. It means I won't feel comfortable shopping there anymore, which is sad because I like Target, but it also means I won't be completely exhausted by working 7 days a week for a while. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, yes it's unprofessional. Yes I burned a bridge. But I only worked there for a month before I left, and I think, if something awful comes to my current job, judging from the hits I got on my resume online, I think I'll be okay.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In celebration of freedom, I'm watching <i>Office Space. </i>This should both prepare me for my office job, and let me be happy that I no longer work somewhere I don't really like.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Toodles!</div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-60058028647175796092009-06-24T14:44:00.002-05:002009-06-24T14:59:10.494-05:00A new spin.<div style="text-align: left;">I've decided to team up with my swank camera-phone and take a picture of something interesting from my day, and write on it.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've had a strange week of long-term life decisions, but in short, I've put notice in at Target that I will no longer be working there (after a whole month, bad me), because my previous employers contacted me and offered me double the hours at double the pay. Too bad, so sad, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>I will have to take night classes this Fall, but I think I can make it work. I'm smart and dedicated that way. </div><div><br /></div><div>So! Today started with Cheerios and yogurt, and then a trip to the drug testing facility to reassure my future/previous bosses that I had not become a crackhead since they last saw me. Let me take this moment to admit that, despite having never taken a drug (other than prescribed pain pills after a surgery), I still get nervous when it comes time for drug testing. I don't know if it's just the severe, silent environment in the waiting rooms at those offices, or if it's the invisibly present knowledge that I could lose a job opportunity if I messed this up. Even though I know I haven't done anything wrong. Or maybe it's the fact that, to be prepared for these things, I drink a ton of water and then sit in the waiting room for way too long, bladder full to bursting, because it's not like you can just show up dry, y'know?</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, pee-in-the-cup tests are one of the few moments in life where I wish I had a penis.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway - saving all the gross details: I don't know if it was nerves, or just me being an utter klutz, but after managing to fill that dang cup enough (not entirely, thank God), I knocked it over. That's right - I spilled pee all over the restroom at a drug testing facility.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Brilliant.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>I am not proud of this. I was, in fact, beet red for the rest of the afternoon. It worked out, in the end, but 1) ew, and 2) omgembarrasingandwhatdoIdonowthatmybladderisempty!?</div><div><br /></div><div>So, that was part 1 of my day. I know, aren't you so disappointed that <i>wasn't</i> the thing I took a picture of?</div><div><br /></div><div><hr /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a141/nokora/1245871071.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Nah, the picture that grabbed my attention today was a shot of the sandwiches my fiance and I bought at Bone Daddy's, a lovely booby-joint restaurant that serves amazing food (and "scenery" I guess. What a tacky term for half-naked waitresses). It was called the Flying Pig Sandwich, and, if I recall correctly, it had on it:</div><div><br /></div><div><ul><li>Pulled Pork</li><li>Bacon</li><li>Smoked Sausage Links</li><li>Maple Ham</li></ul><div>AND IT IS AMAZING. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cat on my lap now, that means it's time to sign off!</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-61918914469415432992009-05-22T11:07:00.003-05:002009-05-22T11:32:15.579-05:00Focusing<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There is no future<br />There is no past<br />I live this moment as my last<br />There's only us<br />There's only this<br />Forget regret<br />Or life is yours to miss<br />No other road<br />No other way<br />No day but today</span></span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">----------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></span></div><div><br /></div>Whenever I look back at my life so far (a whole 20 years? Yeesh.), I can't help but wonder how I was able to entertain myself so thoroughly growing up. A book, a sandbox, a bug, that was all it took to get my imagination turning its figurative gears. I could make adventures out of Word Searches, and often did. I loved those things.<div><br /></div><div>Even looking all the way back to middle and high school, things were just... different. I had a blog back then, one that is probably still hosted and I could go dig through, but I don't feel that depressed today. I wrote almost daily for a few years, and it felt good. I expressed myself, I had funny ideas and opinions that may not have been well-thought out, but were at least the beginnings of who I am and what I believe today. I always knew, coming home from school, what I wanted to write about, who I wanted to address, and I had friends in that community to support as they supported me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I guess what I notice most about my childhood was that I could focus on something, on a little something, for hours. I spent far too much time in a sandbox, sifting through sand so I could find the pretty quartz crystals. Not to keep them, just to find them, go "Ooo" and then put them back and start again.</div><div><br /></div><div>I would dig holes. Not for any exact purpose, I would just dig. Be it in a flower garden, or in the empty lot next to our new home, I would be out there digging away, and giggling as I played with the worms I found, and freaking out when I found maggots. Caterpillars were my favorites. I could see them on a grass blade from what seemed like a mile away. I could find the best plants to play with (Indian needles!) by skimming over a field for a second and finding their wavy tops.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now? Now I just see grass and dirt. I don't see the bugs. I just see sand in a sandbox. Word searches are all right, but not very mentally stimulating. Very little gets my brain going like those days used to, and I miss it. I miss it very much.</div><div><br /></div><div>I took a good step in trying to rediscover focus, recently. I quit World of Warcraft. Perhaps forever, perhaps not, but it was becoming a consumptive force in my life, rather than an idle pasttime. I was upset over things happening in a game, though the events did occur between people I knew in real life, or had known for a very long time through the game. That is not much of an excuse, though. It's still, overall, a game, and should not work <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">against</span> my enjoyment of my time spent playing it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, I'm broke, so paying $15 a month for something that was making me miserable? No, thank you.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been reading more, been trying to keep in touch with friends more, been listening to more music, replaying old favorite games of mine to spark an interest in my consoles again. But I just feel... lost. I appreciate my being able to see the bigger picture, but sometimes I wish I could just switch back to looking at the components again. Sometimes it's <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">nice</span> to not be able to see the forest for the trees. </div><div><br /></div><div>My first assumption about why this happens is simply that time goes by faster as you age. A day could, and did, last forever when I was younger. Children lack the ability to see beyond what is happening in the immediate or near future, and thus the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">moment</span> is all that matters. Now, I know when I'm working 2 weeks in advance, I know when papers are due, when assignments must be completed, and when my tests are months before they occur. Everything is processed in conjunction with the future. Playing this game now means I will not be reading this book that I want to finish. Drinking this water now means I will have to use the restroom in the middle of the night. Slacking off today means I'll have more work tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div>A second guess about my lack of focus and discernment recently has to do with the stage of life I'm at. I'm about to begin my 3rd year of college. I'm getting married in October. This is the point in life when everyone begins parsing out what they're going to do for the rest of their lives. They may be entirely wrong, but it seems most everyone attempts to plan it out, and Lord am I guilty of planning. </div><div><br /></div><div>So now, all I see is the future. Getting through now to get to the blessed future where everything will be better. We'll have money and jobs, we'll have a house, we'll have a family, I'll work in a career I love instead of doing retail to pay the bills. </div><div><br /></div><div>But just look out there. 4/5 college graduates don't have a job offer right now. Every home seems to be nearing foreclosure. More people are getting laid off, and less people are hiring. College is a safe haven. I should be happy I have a good relationship, and a job, not moaning about how I hate standing up for 6 hours and how things aren't how they were supposed to be. Get in line, self. Nobody's life turns out how they expected, and these times are making that more true than ever. Nobody expects to get laid off. Nobody expects to go bankrupt. Nobody expects any of this.</div><div><br /></div><div>My plan so far has been shot down the drain, so why am I so insistent on making another one from the scraps, instead of focusing on the here, and the now. I can't keep living life in terms of the next obstacle in my way. I need to be prepared to handle what's coming, but instead, I sit and mope all day about having to go to work. I could be enjoying what time I have, instead of focusing on what's to come.</div><div><br /></div><div>I miss the humor in my writing. I could be witty, once. I don't know where it's gone. It seems all I can write is the drama in my head, to make sense of what plagues me. That's dull, because it's always the same, but apparently I need to keep revisiting it. Someday, maybe the light will shine again.</div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-40675623903620413862009-04-20T23:16:00.003-05:002009-04-20T23:31:39.140-05:00Lesson the second...<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Blackbird singing in the dead of night</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Take these broken wings and learn to fly</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">All your life, you were only waiting</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For this moment to arise</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"Blackbird" - The Beatles</span></div><div><br /></div>Well, to introduce the second step of making myself feel better, I must first explain that I am in the process of recovering from the Cold from Hell, accompanied by his brother, Possible Strep Throat. The recovery included 5 days of antibiotics, missing class, and being in a haze while writing a paper that wasn't due until the week after because I mistakenly read the Old Syllabus. <div><br /></div><div>ANYWAY. The recovery also included losing my ability to smell and taste. I could taste things all throughout the actual illness, but now I'm left battling a mostly clear nose, but something is up in my sinuses blocking smell from getting to my brain. The only good part about this is that I was afraid the nerves might have actually been damaged throughout the sickness, and that can take <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">forever</span> to go away. But this morning I noticed I could taste things if I blow my nose (only while I am physically blowing my nose, though) or otherwise bent over at the waist. Weird, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>So I have been doubly in the dumps for the past few days. It's kind of amazing how losing your taste buds can affect a fat girl who apparently relies on food to make her feel better (healthy relationships with food are for losers). I lost all <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">meaning</span> for a while. I just kind of sat dully on the couch, moping and refusing to eat because it felt like a waste if I couldn't taste it, and I got no joy from it. Not even that, feeling food and being unable to taste it was a legitimate downer for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I've realized I will get my sense of taste back, and while I'm suffering from this head cold, I should probably just work on how I feel about food in general. For a spell, I was able to eat when I was hungry, stop when I was full, and I actually was not worried about what I would be eating next or having a snack or anything of the sort.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, incredibly long introduction over, I am looking to be much more productive. I went on a walk with Fiance after dinner! We went to the nearby tattoo parlour to peruse their talents and see what they could offer (for when we have money again >_o), then we went to Wendy's and got some Frosties. It was a lovely night, and I wanted to take advantage of it before the heat rolls into town tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div>I even put makeup on today! That was the other upper. I don't normally make myself up, but on a shopping run for some floss and shampoo, I saw some nail polish that matches my wedding dress and some eyeshadow that might as well, so I picked them up to play with. I felt all pretty, even with my raspy voice and occasional phlegmy coughing. </div><div><br /></div><div>So walking was nice, aside from the problem that it was warmer INSIDE most of our stops than it was outside, so I ended up all sweaty. But a nice shower fixes all problems of that nature, and thus it has been a good day.</div><div><br /></div><div><hr /></div><div><br /></div><div>On a side note! </div><div><br /></div><div>The paper referenced earlier? I scrambled all weekend to finish it, then found that it wasn't due until NEXT Monday. Which means it's kind of an awful paper written in a medicated, sick haze, but at least it's mostly done! </div><div><br /></div><div>The OTHER paper I had to work on was supposed to be due in rough draft form tomorrow, but apparently the professor of that utterly useless class (uuuuugh) decided she would rather just be done with the class due to the students' complaints. This means we have moved our Final Exam up from May 10th or sommat, to THIS THURSDAY, and the exam review is tomorrow instead. </div><div><br /></div><div>She also moved the rough draft to being due next Monday as well. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh well. At least I won't have to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">go</span> to that class anymore, and I can just finish up this semester and never make these mistakes again. I've learned a lot from these months, but I'd really rather have done with it and move on. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lessons Learned:</div><div>- Don't sign up for classes too early in the morning as a commuter (or even in general)</div><div>- Don't sign up for Lit classes. Just wait for them to post their syllabi, get the books that look interesting, and read them on your own. Seriously. Every Literature class suddenly devolves into boring reading sessions in class and then you do a research paper. Ugh.</div><div>- Take some fun elective to balance the rest of the crap you go through.</div><div>- Go to class. Really. But bring a second notebook to write and doodle in when it gets dull, because it always will.</div><div>- Stop playing WoW. No, really. It only gets in the way, and it's $16 a month I paid to NOT do my homework and struggle with my grades due to apathy and distraction.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's all for now!</div><div><br /></div><div>G'night. :)</div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-14185611087288694052009-04-10T22:18:00.001-05:002009-04-10T22:18:50.603-05:00Brush your teeth.<p class="MsoNormal">It’s odd, but I can tell a good day from a bad day very easily.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A good day, I wake up, I take my pills, I brush my teeth, I read my news and webcomics, I do reading for class, I pack up and I go to class. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">A bad day?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m lucky if I even wake up. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But eventually I do, begrudgingly so. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I take my pills, but here’s where the difference comes:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A day can be decided on whether or not I brush my teeth. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s gross, I know, but it’s a sign of the problems I sometimes face. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I do struggle with mild to moderate depression, and part of that mental disorder is the inability to do even the simplest of things, especially those that need doing. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">On a bad day, I look at my toothbrush and I think, “Eh. I’ll do it later.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Maybe after I eat something and read a little.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then I mope to my computer chair, huddle under a blanket and sulk about going to class until I either go late, or skip it altogether. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">So my theory is this: If a day can be determined by how I feel about brushing my teeth, can I beat the game by taking that out of the equation?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If I take my pills and brush my teeth, even while I’m sulking, will that jumpstart the process of other things that must be done? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Will I accept my duty and go to class anyway?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Will I do my homework?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Will I put down the WoW for long enough to live life?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s an interesting theory, at any rate.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">So, little kiddies, brush your teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And drink your milk, and take your vitamins, and do your homework, and clean your rooms. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not because it makes your mom happy, because it just might be good for you after all. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Be health and head conscious!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Like me, the overweight and depressed college student who hates college!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Cheerio!</p>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-29508452134148313572009-03-24T09:40:00.004-05:002009-03-24T09:48:13.094-05:00Been a long time...So, anyone who has been in contact with me recently has become somewhat aware of a few things. One, I hate school. Two, I'm getting married this Halloween, and I'm trapped in the craziness of wedding planning. Three, life is hard.<br /><br />Basically, I let myself get trapped up in a ball of negativity that has been rolling along steadily for a few months now. It's not fun, and I refuse to stay with it any longer. In its place will be writing, listening to music, reading, meditating, happiness in the face of stress. <br /><br />I will do what I must to make myself go to class, even if that means blocking out every stimulus besides music and the lecture once I get here, with the magic of my MP3 player. I will plan my wedding without fear of failure and without making myself stress to death. Instead, I will be grateful that I have been given the chance to marry someone so perfect for me.<br /><br />I will not snap at my friends, or be unfriendly towards anyone. Being negative is the lazy response to life, and I have been coasting along on the tide of anger for too long. Behind every jerk who pisses me off is someone who probably has a problem I could care about, but hating them because of surface behavior is so much <span style="font-style: italic;">easier</span> that I forget what I am.<br /><br />I forget who I believe in, what I follow as my personal code for my life, and what the heart I've been given feels about people. I am not a negative person. I am not happy when I view the world through rage-colored glasses, and I have grown tired of living in that state of being.<br /><br />So I'll stay to the sidelines in class, but I'll be here. I'll turn in my assignments, I'll do the readings, I'll pass the exams. I'll plan my wedding, I'll hang out with friends, I'll play my games and read my books, and I will keep my eyes open for what other people need while I do it. I have always been able to juggle many lives concurrently, it just happens that sometimes I get selfish and begin to feel angry at what I used to love doing.<br /><br />I am only human, after all.<br /><br />Oh, and I need to find a job or win the lottery. Good luck on that, right?<br /><br />Class will be starting soon, but I wanted to write something, to document the turning point of this race I've been in. Wish me luck. The idea of turning off my MP3 player and listening to the dribble coming out of the other students' mouths is really not sitting well with me right now, but eventually I must.<br /><br />*whimper*<br /><br />Antisocial powers activate!~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-18806146859422069602009-01-13T15:08:00.003-06:002009-01-13T15:18:37.157-06:00Okay, so I'm better now.All right, so the pity party is over. I successfully went to all of my classes, despite my campus' best attempts to make that impossible, I bought my books, and I'm back home after eating less than half of a chicken calzone for a late lunch.<div><br /></div><div>Granted, books cost me around $400 this time around. I've had success at buying my textbooks online in the past, but this semester I just had too many teachers requesting we have chapters read <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">already</span>, so I don't have the comfy waiting period to seek out a good deal and havei t shipped to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>That'll learn me to wait and see the syllabi!</div><div><br /></div><div>But at any rate, I'm feeling a little bit more confident now that I know what I'm really faced with. A lot of reading and a lot of writing this time around, but I can hope and pray that it will keep my interest level up. It certainly seems like a possibility, given the subject matters.</div><div><br /></div><div>Educational Psychology, Cognitive Development, US History from 1865 on, Literary Analysis, and British Novels. I can do this. I can. The writing will keep me busy, but none of it looks impossible. I just have to keep a good eye on this stuff. </div><div><br /></div><div><hr /></div><div><br /></div><div>On a different note, I'm considering asking the Fiance if we should look for a house around here. We need more space, but not much more, and considering the market we could finance a house for around what we pay now, if not less. It may not be a mansion or the best house ever, but...</div><div><br /></div><div>We'll see, though. It's something to think about. Along with the possibility of me getting a job to help support that decision, but... I really would prefer to keep my school as my "job" and avoid the part-time work. Granted, that's a luxury, but we're living fine off what Fiance makes, and I'm covered by my scholarship and some outside help, so it's not a big ordeal. But if we were to look for a house, I would pick up the slack to make sure everything goes smoothly.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's just a thought. Or maybe I should just get a job to help pay for health insurance for us, so we can actually <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">get married</span> at some point.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hrm.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway. In short, I have more to think about than just the current problems I'm dealing with. I have more in store in my life than college, and I'm not going to let it crush me death. It's not worth it. It's an important thing that I want to succeed at, and I will, but I can attain success without killing myself, so I will.</div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-23732009079532364712009-01-13T09:00:00.002-06:002009-01-13T09:02:00.297-06:00This must be what "pressing" felt like.College and I are not getting along at the moment. It’s not something that’s easy to define, considering that I’m still pulling above a 3.5 GPA, despite my hatred of most of my classes/professors so far. In fact, regardless how much I realize that all of this nonsense is just high school again, with more pretension and unnecessary tedium (I didn’t even think that was possible), I still feel completely unsure of my every move.<br /><br />I am good at school. I am a nerd. I like learning. The problem is that I hate inefficiency and I often feel paranoid that everyone knows something I don’t. Like, I do well on tests that everyone else does poorly on, yet they all seem to be doing better at this entire “college” thing than I am.<br /><br />What sense does this make? I have a major, I have an idea for what I’d like to do with my life, albeit not all hammered out. I know I’d like to work as a counselor somewhere. Teaching seems like a good thing to do, as well, so maybe I just need to make up my mind about my chosen career path. That’s something most people in college have to do, so I’m certainly not behind in that regard. I’m engaged, I’ve got my own bills and debts to pay, and I make them monthly with no real problem. I’ve taken out loans, I’ve bought books, I’ve passed classes, and I’ve managed to not throw my life away by making dumb choices, so that puts me ahead of the curve somewhat, right?<br /><br />So why do I feel so cripplingly inferior in every class I’m in? My confidence disappears when I step foot on this campus. I get jumpy, I feel lost no matter how many times I’ve been to the same classroom, and I’m constantly looking at every person walking by. I don’t even know many people on this campus, why should I be checking every face that goes by? <br /><br />It just feels like everyone else is playing a different game. Including the professors, sometimes. It’s like, I’m here to learn and get my career going and get on with my life. Other people seem to be here to engage in the College Process, to play a game with credits and advisors and professors and acceptance letters, and I just want to get out. My goal is to reach End, get my diploma and get a life of my own. Their goals all seem to be to rack up as many accomplishments and inconsequential pieces of trash on the way as possible.<br /><br />And the advisors here? Suck. So very hard. Every time I enter one of their offices with a question, I leave with a gray-area answer and more questions than I had going in. They are the anti-helpful. Not only that, they also mislead you on what it takes to get what you’re trying to do. One says you need to minor in an area to be able to teach it, another says you need to major in it. Some say, “Maybe you should change your major altogether, except you don’t really have to, because one guy didn’t, but maybe you should.” <br /><br />Thanks for that golden advice, Mrs. Vague.<br /><br />Maybe the problem is just how alone I feel. I recognize people in my major classes more and more, but I don’t… I don’t have any friends here. I’ve never been good at the friends-at-school game. I always had one or two in grade school, but that tapered off when the guys discovered girls. High school was just a game of being friendly and involved with groups at school, but I never had anyone to hang out with after school.<br /><br />Now I have people to hang out with after school, but I can’t find anyone to relate to AT school. I’m here for the majority of my day, and I’m alone, stuck in my thoughts and concerns about inadequacy. Also I’m constantly exhausted. It’s just so tiring, life.<br /><br />I just want to be done. I want to have a steady job, have some freedom, instead of constantly fighting back the stack of papers and homework that chase me down the halls. Instead of worrying about how much I hate my classes. Instead of being crushed by depression and anxiety, to the point of not being able to get out of bed to go to class, no matter how much I worry about my grade in doing so.<br /><br />The older I get, the more my goal in life seems to be to not be bothered and not be noticed. I just want to get things done, and not be a hindrance to anyone else’s comings and goings. I want to blend in.<br /><br />But I don’t. That’s not what I want, it’s just what I’ve been reduced to. I want to help people, I want to care, and I want to feel that passion I had for learning and getting grades and reading and helping out and… I want to live again.<br /><br />If only this place would stop strangling me, I think I would be able to. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do anymore. I mostly just want to sleep and cry. <br /><br />I don’t think the Celexa is helping yet.~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-38915639122913542122008-12-20T17:10:00.004-06:002008-12-20T17:21:23.090-06:00Who-hoaly Crap, It's Been A WhileSo, I've been through a few things in the past month or two since I posted on this dealy-o. I guess I kind of let it slip my mind... or really, I let myself ignore the urge to process and write about what was going on and instead focused on clinging to my problems like some kind of backwards life preserver.<br /><br />But that's neither here nor there now, is it?<br /><br />We're in Florida at the moment, Fiance and I. Sitting in our hotel room, because I have become too anxious and stressed to drive around in this frantic traffic in a new town (for me). We decided to take this day to relax... if that's even possible.<br /><br />I've been having a very difficult time unwinding my little ball of stress lately. It's like it has become a part of me, something I love to lean on, because it gives me an excuse to feel as miserable as I do sometimes.<br /><br />Without going into agonizingly melodramatic detail, it appears I should probably schedule myself an appointment with a psychiatrist at some point in the near future, perhaps in an effort to get some anti-depressants or anti-anxiety pills. Or at least to talk about my problems to someone who won't immediately make me blame my parents for everything, like my only other therapist did.<br /><br />Being in a Neuroscience class, we went over what happens in a depressed brain. As we pored over the chemicals and the feelings and signs, something clicked. I had joked around about being "a little depressed" before, but it's been hitting me in longer, harder to shake off, chunks of time. I kept thinking that maybe "after this paper" or "after this project" or "after the finals are done" or "after we get off the plane and get the car and check into the hotel," maybe then I can finally relax and be happy.<br /><br />Unfortunately, it doesn't appear to work that way. It would seem that I'm just unhappy, for no conceivable reason. I've been eating poorly and shirking off household responsibilities, all because I feel like sleeping and moping all the time. I've been sleeping more and feeling less rested, which just adds to the trouble.<br /><br />I can go from happy to a stressed-out wrecking ball of anxiety in only a few seconds. When one thing doesn't go right, I'm spent. If I have to be around people for more than an hour, I'm exhausted, and so I've been ignoring my friends and being less emotionally available to Fiance. Something needs to change, and so it should. And I think it will. 'cause I don't want to live like this anymore. <br /><br />Oh, also, my grandfather died. It has nothing to do with all of this, except adding to my stress level. He was my mother's father, and we all have very few happy memories with him. He was somewhat... negative towards my mother and my father, and towards everyone in his life. So all I can say is I hope he is finally happy wherever he is, and I hope my mother can relax soon.<br /><br />She carried the world on her shoulders for the week he was in the hospital and near to death. Her whole family leaned on her through the whole experience, and you can really tell she needs some rest.<br /><br />So... that's about all, really. I passed all of my classes and managed to come out with a high-enough GPA to secure my scholarship for another go-around. So now I'm going to focus on getting myself healthier in the head, and the body (which always helps with the head-bit, too), so I can tackle next semester without crying myself to sleep every night!<br /><br />Fun!~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-24367694699571050712008-11-05T10:28:00.003-06:002008-11-05T10:47:29.492-06:00O Joyous Day - Yet Why Am I Crying?Obama won.<br /><br />Landslide, it would appear. Or at least very close to it.<br /><br />McCain conceded with grace and dignity, and earned a modicum of my respect back. I salute the man for his service.<br /><br />Yet I can't help but feel like crying. What should be a historic and momentous day of celebration is soiled by the hatred and disgust that those on the opposing side are spewing out. People saying we're all doomed, welcoming us to a Socialist nation, threatening to move.<br /><br />I'm sorry. If you love America as much as many of the opposing side claim to, Democracy should NOT make you want to leave. You should not be AFRAID of letting the people speak for themselves. Perhaps you didn't win - disappointment is inevitable in these kinds of deals, but recognize what has been accomplished:<br /><br />We have made progress in the seemingly eternal struggle between the races. We have broken many barriers this election season, with both African Americans and women making great strides in the political world. We have opened our hearts up, and changed many people's lives because we see the need for a new strategy in this country.<br /><br />What we have now is not working. And the same old game of hate and fear <span style="font-style: italic;">did not work.</span> But people will not let it go. People are clinging even more so to their vitriol, ignoring even their own leaders' pleas to accept Obama as their president, to lift him up in prayer even if you do not agree with all of his stands on issues. To follow the leader elect of our great nation, and help us all bridge the gap that has been bringing this country to its knees instead of keeping it high where it has once been.<br /><br />I do not glorify America overmuch. But last night made me so proud of our country. Red states went blue. Some red states kind of went purple (Texas tried!), but people came together. There was no booing at Obama's victory address. There were tears, many tears. The man presented himself as someone with, as my fiance noted, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Looking into his eyes as he gave that speech, one could see how much he <span style="font-style: italic;">cares</span> for this country. <br /><br />I hold that I am a decent judge of character. At the very least, certain people rub me the wrong way. Kerry rubbed me the wrong way. Sarah Palin rubbed me the wrong way. McCain started to by the very end of things.<br /><br />Looking into Obama's eyes, I almost completely give into the belief that he not only wants to change things for the better, that he really can. That not all of his campaign promises were merely platitudes to get himself elected. That he legitimately desires good for America.<br /><br />You can find him flawed, most people are. You can disagree with his policies, that's what America is about. The freedom to say "I don't like that much." We speak with our votes and with our hearts here in America.<br /><br />If you want to continue the discourse of hate, then please, make good on your promise to leave. We don't need that here, anymore. I am sick to death of the cries of "Terrorist!" "Socialist!" and many worse. I am shaken to the core at the fact that I could not look away during his speech last night for fear that some ignorant racist with a gun would assassinate him before he even got a chance.<br /><br />What moral high ground do you really stand on when you cannot look a man in the eyes because of his ideals or his skin color? What righteous anger do you really have when you slander a man without knowing his heart? I know this plea is overly emotional, but I cannot help it. For the first time, my heart is breaking for my country.<br /><br />I wanted today to be celebratory. Despite having a test I've barely studied for, I woke up today feeling that things were going to change.<br /><br />Then I saw... amongst my own acquaintances, the bile spilling over into every status update, every bulletin, every newspost.<br /><br />We wanted change. But you people won't budge. And my heart is breaking. You've not only crushed the American spirit, you've crushed the American dream. When America fails, it will not be Obama's fault. It will not even be Bush's fault.<br /><br />If you can't find a way to cooperate with your fellow man regardless of ideology and religion, then you have broken into the halls of American History and stolen the book written on what the American dream should be. You have taken it, set it ablaze, and replaced it with the doctrine of the Ignorant American. Clinging bitterly, yes, bitterly, to your outdated hatred and refusing to look out the window to see if its raining or if the sun is shining.<br /><br />Because to you, if "that one" is on your television screen, it must be raining. If a woman somewhere is having an abortion, it must be raining. If a gay couple somewhere is holding hands, it must be raining.<br /><br />And it is you who hold us all back. Those of us who have seen past the rain to see the sun streaming through the clouds. Those of us who can look past the horizon of rainclouds and see that the day will shine again will forever be hindered by you, sitting in your dank living room, stewing in your own filth.<br /><br />We do not believe in your words, but you will not join us on the journey. Even if the rain is pouring, there is a path to the sunshine. But because the path is not covered with the right layer of brick, or because the wrong kind of people will be walking beside you, you'd rather we all just drown. And since we are bound together by the chains of kinship in this country, we will.<br /><br />I'm sick of it. I have empathy for many types of people in this world, but I cannot feel pity for you anymore. I feel angry, hurt, and so very frustrated. <br /><br />We have places to go and people to be in this world. You deserve to have your say, because this is the United States of America, but if what you say has not changed in the past few decades because your thinking has not updated either, then please. Just stop. You are only hurting all of us.~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-8027305640864702472008-10-13T11:08:00.003-05:002008-10-13T11:26:26.127-05:00Protecting Marriage: Why That's Not NecessarySo, up there with abortion in the ranks of issues that will continue to divide Americans on "moral" grounds yet will never actually be cemented in stone (because then nobody would come out to vote), is gay marriage. Some people are for it (equal rights!) some people are against it (one man, one woman!), and each have their logical and illogical reasons backing them up.<br /><br />But the phrase that gets tossed around a little too much for my comfort is that we need to "protect" marriage. The sanctity of marriage is under attack! One man, one woman! O noes!<br /><br />Let's look at this, for a moment. Why do people start attacks and thus wage wars? There are normally a couple reasons: The Attackers want to destroy it, or the Attackers want to take over it.<br /><br />In the first scenario, it's pretty easy to wave that off as nonsense. The LGBT community (and however many other letters they've added lately - first the rainbow, now the alphabet. Share, people!) has little interest overall in wiping out marriage as an institution. There are those who hold that marriage should not be a government thing, that it should be put back into the hands of religions and privately dealt with so as to remove this whole debacle anyway, but the majority of people are not saying they want it gone for good. I mean, think about it - if they wanted to wipe out marriage, they wouldn't be petitioning to be granted the right to GET married.<br /><br />That would be like wanting to destroy the Christian church by reading the Bible and paying tithes every Sunday. Given that "Marriage" isn't even an actual location or group of people, there's no way that infiltration would do any good, even if that was their goal. <br /><br />So, no, they aren't out to destroy it.<br /><br />Now, are they out to take it over? Again, let's think about this: In the history of wars, overtaking a country normally had one of two or three outcomes. Either the people who used to live there were destroyed and the Attackers take over, or the people are permitted to stay there, either to be assimilated into the new society or to pay tribute to remain as they were.<br /><br />Let's talk about the first idea: Do the Gays want to storm in, wipe out heterosexual marriages, and claim marriage as a Homosexual-Only institution? No. That's what Heterosexual fundamentalists are doing right now. Most couples just want the right to be married, regardless of whether they're in the current phase of their relationships to do so RIGHT NOW. They want the tax breaks, the hospital visitation, the next of kin rights. They want adoptions, they want to live a normal, happy, monogamous life. That should make opponents of the "Homosexual Agenda" happy, since they normally point to how adulterous and dishonest the dating gay world can be. How dare they want to settle down and be boring like the rest of us? Buh?<br /><br />So, that leaves the other option: Are the homosexuals attacking marriage in order to rule over it? Seeing that I have heard no legislative ideas that require heterosexual couples already married or seeking marriage licenses to pay tributes to the Gay Marriage Czars, I think not. Nor do they really seem to be hunting down straight couples in order to sway them to the gay persuasion.<br /><br />Some war. It's really more like immigration. They want IN to the marriage world, not to take over it. They want to function in its society, legally, and get all of the perks of participating in it as the current citizens get. Civil Unions are really like visas, but marriage would be akin to a permanent citizenship being granted. And those gays living together? Well, I guess they're the illegals? It's a faulty metaphor, I'll agree, but it works for a little bit.<br /><br />You can oppose to gay marriage all you like, and I can't do anything to stop you. That's your right, and I'm not going to challenge it. All I ask is this - whose marriage would really be endangered by the ability of some couple somewhere in the country to get married? Who would really be at threat in that scenario? The couples who can participate in society and have to deal with Homeowner's Associations and taxation and insurance policies just like everyone else? The kids who are adopted into loving homes instead of being left floating around in the foster system? YOUR marriage?<br /><br />In short, my opinion still stays the same, albeit somewhat trite and abrasive: If you don't like gay marriage, don't get one. But no gay man or woman will be knocking down your door to take your wedding rings away from you anytime soon. So chill out.~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-82530122890035912212008-10-11T20:37:00.005-05:002008-10-11T21:28:17.364-05:00Packing up, moving on. (TL;DR)I've been through quite a few experiences in my day. I went through almost all of my high school years glued to my laptop, playing World of Warcraft and chatting my days away with people from all over the world. It was nice, even if it was a tad bit... well, the word fake doesn't seem right. It wasn't fake, not to me, not then. They were real people, and we were real friends who cared about each other. I still keep in contact with a few of them, but now I know them by their real names instead of their characters. So we are now "real" friends, I suppose. I still haven't met them, though, so that makes them still pretty "imaginary" to those not in the know.<br /><br />But anyway. In the midst of the chatting, relationships grew. Good friendships, and more. I had a few... oy, it seems almost silly to refer to them as "boyfriends" now, but I do have to admit that I felt more than a little bit in love with them at the time. So the term remains. <br /><br />It was normally a gradual process - we would be in the same game channel, forum, or something, and make the same jokes. We would "get" each other. For one, it was just a lust of the moment. Someone was just paying attention to me, and I relished in it. We had somewhat similar tastes in music and movies and stuff, but there was nothing really cementing a relationship other than the fact that we were both looking for something. I'll refer to him as M.<br /><br />M was Canadian, and quite a few years older than me. He also suffered from bipolar disorder, or something close to manic depression. He refused to take his medicines, and thus would be in slumps for days, treating me affectionately, and then ignoring my conversations entirely. I was a youth (15 or 16, he was 22), struggling to deal with life as an outcast, as someone different, and I realized pretty soon into it that I couldn't deal with his problems and shoulder my own. I spoke to a mutual friend about the problem, and he later found out that I had mentioned the medicines to her. That erupted in a pretty awkward, hurtful discussion after I had already broken things off with him.<br /><br />A mistake, entirely. I knew that. But while I had been dealing with the burden of his depression and wondering if this was all I was meant for, I ran into another soul. This, this was N. N was also older than me - I was 16 at this point, and he was 20. A trend is emerging, no? <br /><br />N was sweet. He was a Christian, something I had been lacking in M. He liked the same music as me, and some of the same books, albeit only on my "Christian" side, as I sometimes call it. I couldn't really share in my other indulgences with him, like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, heavy metal rock music, and enjoying a good dirty joke here or there. In fact, he was kind of Puritan-esque, I would later come to realize. He was very sweet, though.<br /><br />He had helped me through the ordeal with M, and before I knew it, we were writing stories together and flirting back and forth <span style="font-style: italic;">all the time.</span> We ended up deciding to try long-distance dating. He sent me text messages full of funny stuff. We talked on the phone all the time. It was amazing. I felt cared about, instead of just someone who happened to be there. <br /><br />Then things got weird. It's hard to really describe the devolution of this relationship, being that you have to understand my game world a little for it to make sense. I played World of Warcraft, on the Horde, on an RP server. This means that we all played the game for the sake of the story, building relationships between characters and players, in and out of character, building upon plots and ideas while enjoying the quest mechanics set forth in the game.<br /><br />N had originally played on the Alliance. But he had switched over, and started a Horde character to pal around with all of us, not just me. We both had different characters that took part in different storylines, with little reason to overlap much. We were still in contact with each other often, just interacting with different people most of the time. <br /><br />He started wanting to know who I was talking to, and what we were saying, and what was going on, and what it all meant. He also started to become suspicious of me, I think. There is a phenomenon of those who engage in Roleplaying on the internet to also "cyber," through the voice of either their character or themselves, which basically means write out sex back and forth.<br /><br />Now that I've been in a real-life relationship, I understand how kind of hokey it is, but trust me - when you're lonely, it's tempting to seek that kind of contact, that want, that value, from anything. <br /><br />He started, not pointedly, asking after where I was. My character had begun dating, it's true. It was purely an IC (in-character, meaning only between our characters) relationship, and the fellow manning the character she had a total crush on was sweet, but not someone I knew really well. It was an innocent love story.<br /><br />N also came to visit, once. He came down around the Christmas time, stayed in a hotel nearby, and I chauffered him around for about a week. It was a nice visit - he was chubby and cute and geeky, and he was a gentleman. Too much of one, really. After being so lonely, I was waiting for someone to come sweep me off my feet. To hold me, to tell me how beautiful I was, despite my weight problem, and to kiss me and treat me like a Queen.<br /><br />He treated me like a delicate object he had no idea how to handle, so he best not try at all. Hugs were hard to get out of him, and they were chaste. There was one night where we cuddled on the couch by the fireplace, but that was it. So, nice, but... underwhelming, after all of the buildup of having a REAL BOYFRIEND who was coming to VISIT ME.<br /><br />When the questions about where I was and who I was with began to become too much, I finally broke down. I called things off with him a month or two after his visit, which admittedly, he had paid for (we had paid for his hotel room). I felt bad about it, but it just wasn't working. He lived across the country from me, he was paranoid and suspicious, and it was driving me nuts. He even had the gall to ask how I felt about C, the boy who controlled my character's then-fiance.<br /><br />Well, maybe gall isn't the right word. I had started to fall for C. He was sweet and kind, and slow to anger. He had a sense of humor and humility about him. He was also a broken human being, and God help me, I had the urge to Mother the hell out of him and save him from this cruel world.<br /><br />C was my first love. To this day, I still wish nothing but the best for him, but I couldn't help him. He was also 20 (lol) and I was 17 I think around this point. We were together for 8 months. I remember that one. It started a while after I broke things off with N, but probably not long enough for his liking. *shrug*. I was young, my heart went where it pleased, and as a side note - N had been cybering with HIS character's WIFE behind my back since basically he started his character. He also tried to whip his e-penis out when one of my friend's characters was around him. While we were dating, both of these things. So, sexual repression and paranoia, much? ANYWAY. C.<br /><br />My family went on a vacation around Yellowstone, and we took him with us, stayed in a big condo we rented for a week. I kissed him on that trip, tired of waiting for the right moment. Unfortunately, it scared him. He was too... I don't know. Damaged. My heart still breaks thinking about him. I have no romantic intentions towards him anymore, I just want someone to come rescue him from the doldrums that he lives in.<br /><br />That leaves us finally with K, whose name also starts with C, but for ease of distinguishing, we will call him K. After things got too depressing with C - he was moving with his family, he was unwilling or unable to enroll back in school, but he didn't want to move nearer to me to start a job or education, so we were stuck still in a long-distance tango, and I realized that I just couldn't fix it for him. I was miserable, he was miserable, and it just... wasn't working.<br /><br />He quit playing the game, so I hadn't seen him, his character with mine basically dropped off the face of the planet, so I just went back to questing solo and trying to remain friendly with everyone else I knew. <br /><br />There was K. He had always been a member of the channels I frequented. He was surly. He was mean, in a funny way, and everyone loved to hate him. He was the one who poked fights on the forums just to watch people start squawking. It was fun for him.<br /><br />Also, he was C's best friend before C moved. I met him when we picked C up for that trip. Just the once. He, also, was damaged.<br /><br />I could write pages and pages on each of these people's roles in my life. K was probably the most frustrating of all of them, the final straw, if you will. He and I were like yin and yang. Where he was surly and pessimistic, I was full of e-hearts (<3) for everyone. Where he liked cussing and flaming, I liked smoothing things over with people. Naturally, attraction was inevitable.<br /><br />We flirted up a storm. He would show me kindness he showed nobody else in that world of his. I would poke and tease him, and he would take it with a patience, again, nobody else got to see. It sort of evolved into that whole "But you don't know the real side of him!" thing.<br /><br />It ended basically as soon as it began. He seems to follow this strange cycle of chasing me. We would flirt, we would discuss, we would stay up late chatting... until we decided to go for being boyfriend/girlfriend. Then we would promptly forget how to behave with one another. He would go stale and surly in discussions, then mix that with being overly caring and boyfriend-like. It was as though we were both trying way too hard, and it just strangled the thing.<br /><br />Eventually, I decided against the ordeal, 3 months or so into it, and we called it quits. We didn't talk much for a while, as was my custom with people I had cut ties with. Then, months later, presents show up for my birthday, from him, and I start talking to him again. Same ol' thing. We discuss, we flirt, we tease, we banter. Things are good. I offer to come visit, thinking things are maybe going to be good this time.<br /><br />I pay $900 for a trip to Mid-Western America, to be tugged back and forth with misleading clues for what felt like an eternity shoved into a week's timespan. I was told he didn't want to be in a relationship, because, for real, he said this: "Bros before hoes," in response to being friends with C, when months before, in our FIRST attempt, he had said "Forget C, I want this." When I visited, he had really stopped talking much to C, due to his moving, and their drifting apart.<br /><br />Then he would hold me, we would sit close, he would wrap his arm around me and treat me like a girlfriend, only to tell me again he didn't want anything. He said he was attracted to me, but then he wasn't interested in the long-distance, and back and forth and back and forth.<br /><br />I left heartbroken and miserable, uncertain of where we stood, and also pretty angry.<br /><br />Another side note - months after that whole visit debacle, after I had already begun dating my fiance, K called around Christmas time. I didn't even know he still HAD my phone number. It was awkward, to say the least. He apparently has taken up drinking and being miserable. So it's probably best for both of us that I'm not there.<br /><br />At this point in my life, though... I forgive him. It wouldn't have worked, and I guess we both knew it, I was just desperate for someone to love me already. I was willing to sacrifice education for almost all of these men. I was willing to throw away cheaper tuition rates to try to go to school in states (and COUNTRIES) I'd never lived in, forever away from my family. I was willing to sacrifice everything for love.<br /><br />And all of these things came together today to make me realize something - They taught me how to know what I want. When I look at my fiance, I see someone who is kind, patient, giving, loving, forgiving, and a Believer to boot. He doesn't get angry, he has never been mean to me in any action or word (on purpose - he flails in his sleep). He was close to me (he moved from Florida to Texas just before we started dating... literally, like, we met on OKCupid, talked for 2 weeks, then he moved here and we were inseparable, and it wasn't for me that he moved). He is older than me. He is smart, he loves reading, he loves music, he loves drama without needing to cause it. He trusts me, and I him. And he doesn't lead me on and disappoint me.<br /><br />For once in my life, I am loved the way I needed to be, and I am able to love back the way I longed to. We were watching a bad horror/zombie movie today, and I realized as we joked back and forth, and also when he was laying back on my stomach as we both read books of our own likings... this is all I want. I'm going to school, I'm pursuing a career I think utilizes the most of my abilities in dealing with people, and I'm marrying a man who makes me happy, and who is happy with me in return.<br /><br />There's no gut-wrenching feelings of guilt and misery as I sit there waiting for an IM response from someone I'm not sure how to love. There's no teeth-tightening sensations of agony as my stomach twists as I realize that I am unhappy here. There's only hope and comfort as I know that no matter what the future holds, we can be happy curled up together.<br /><br />This is incredibly lengthy, and probably dull to anyone who doesn't know me, but it was more of a needing to get it out than looking for an audience.<br /><br />All of these internet trysts, whether I met them in person or not, they all had their hand in my formation of romance and respect for myself. I don't understand the internet the way I used to, now that I see what it is like to really be loved. I think some long-distance relationships work (hi James and Aria!), but for the most part - I wouldn't trade being able to rub my fiance's head while he shoots Spies in Team Fortress 2 for the world.~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-54207742160208298152008-10-06T15:03:00.002-05:002008-10-06T15:17:02.867-05:00Whoooo, updates.Life is happening really quickly these days. Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred, but I've found myself kind of waking up on Mondays and going "Wow, it's next week <span style="font-style: italic;">already</span>? I barely did what I needed to do LAST week!"<br /><br />Which is an unfortunate sentiment, but true nonetheless. Ah, well. Things are still getting done as they need to be, and I'm still treading water in all of my classes, despite a crippling bout of depression that has kept me feeling down and out. And by treading water I mean acing tests and doing okay on the ones I thought I for-really-real bombed.<br /><br />I have taken out, as they say, a new lease on life. It's hard, but we get through it. I've got to learn to open up and rely on other people. I realized last week that the more I focus inward on my own problems, the less I notice other people's struggles. And I don't think I'm here to do nothing but gripe about my life. I think I was given a heart that loves fully, and I think I've been terrified to use it lately.<br /><br />Because bringing people who aren't me into my life means surrendering control over the simple, albeit sometimes lonely existence that I live. By fully believing the lies that my brain likes to throw at me, I lock other people out. Letting depression take control of my thoughts, my tears, all of me, keeps me from being reached by the people I most desperately need.<br /><br />I recently had to acknowledge the fact that I don't have much money. That may not a big surprise when you take into the account that I am in school, with no job, and no income other than just what I need to clear my share of the bills. However, that fact scared me. It made me feel something of a failure.<br /><br />How backwards is that? Needing to rely on my fiance, who has a job and a steady income, to help buy groceries and gas, made me feel BAD. So many people in this world would squeal to have the opportunity to rely on someone else, and I'm moping because I have someone who's willing to shoulder that responsibility?<br /><br />Seriously, I worry about my head sometimes. <br /><br />But I know where it comes from. I've been a loner for a long time, and even though I've been with him for over a year now, the idea that someone is there for me in any and every capacity still seems so foreign. I had to take care of myself, for the most part, growing up. Sure, my parents paid the bills and bought me food, but emotionally and academically, I fended for myself. My parents loved me and raised me well, but my sister ate up a lot of our existence. Still does.<br /><br />That's a blog entry for another time, though.<br /><br />Regardless, I've been so used to isolation that it became my strength. And I've just come to realize that being alone is not strength. Being strong on your own isn't any feat - what battles do you come against when you have no friends or enemies? Being able to work with people beside you, to stand on your feet when you're afraid, to have the confidence not to back down in any of life's ordeals... that's strength. And it can only happen when you let people <span style="font-style: italic;">in</span> and start living life, instead of hiding from it and pretending that's enough.<br /><br />It's a hard lesson. One I'm still working on mastering, I'm more than ready to admit. But I've noticed changes in myself. I'm happier, despite this hormonal drag these new pills have set me on. I'm more willing to voice my opinions in groups, in classes, in hallways. What is there to fear? As long as you respect others, you can do a lot more good by speaking out than you can by sitting still.<br /><br />Nobody can hurt me if I don't let them. Sure, they can say mean things, but I have control over how I react, and it's been easier to just... do what I need to get done, school-wise, but also feel happy and secure in my own existence.<br /><br />My body is mine. My thoughts are mine. My humor, my style, my heart, it all makes up me, and I've come to realize that people kind of like me. I'm by no means nearing narcissism here, but it's a nice feeling.<br /><br />Anyway. I am waiting for a Joss Whedon Fan Club meeting to organize here in the Comet Cafe. We're working on getting this sucker started, and I am dedicated to making friends and having Common Interests.<br /><br />Take that, negativity.~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-63371384636543578152008-09-18T09:14:00.002-05:002008-09-18T09:19:36.809-05:00A deep breath.All right, so it has kind of been made clear to me that I may have been overreacting about my health issues. Not in mean ways, just in very clear "It's not the end of the world" tones. Of course, when I feel like I was feeling, those kind of statements irritate me. How dare people bring logic and rationality into my sulking?<br /><br />So, yes. I have readjusted my thinking a tad. The pain is the number one problem for the time being. I have been given pills to help combat that, and we will see how those work before I even start to whine about not being able to fix it.<br /><br />The other side effects of the diagnosis (which are very much up in the air) are not immediate threats to my daily life, nor are they things I should really focus on. I have too much to panic about to let things that <span style="font-style: italic;">might</span> happen years from now bring me down.<br /><br />I mean, I have a test soon for a class that I've somehow magically missed 3 chapters in. Oops! But I'm here for review today, so I hope it helps. <br /><br />And the economy is failing! That's always fun! I'm seriously considering shifting some of my future goals to help anticipate less of a falling out when I get my new shiny Bachelor's Degree. I was already contemplating getting a teaching certificate while I'm here, and now I'm thinking that's a wise choice. I still would like to pursue a Master's in Child Development and all that, but for now, I'd also like to make sure I have a marketable skillset on board. <br /><br />So there.<br /><br />Not panicking. Much.<br /><br />...I still have to fight this urge to run away and get married and live out in the country running a small bookstore and restaurant. *shifty*~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-48487655422483782922008-09-17T11:32:00.003-05:002008-09-17T11:49:45.598-05:00The Doctor Told Me...I went to have my lady exam yesterday. It's only the second one I've ever had, but it comes at a time where I've been getting increasingly more pain with each cycle, so I was hopeful that something could be diagnosed and done about it, to make it stop, so I can live without the ouchies.<br /><br />So, the doctor told me there were a couple of options as far as causes went. One was that my uterus might be tilted the wrong direction, causing some extra pain, or it was endometriosis. Yay.<br /><br />Upon doing the exam, he informed me that, yes, in fact my <a href="http://www.americanpregnancy.org/womenshealth/tippeduterus.html">uterus is tipped</a>. What we didn't go over after the exam was whether endometriosis was still on the table as a cause of pain, or if the tipping was the sole cause and that it couldn't be endo by that point. Unfortunately, it can be a chicken-egg situation, I've found doing my own research. So I'm on the fence. The general idea I got from it was that it might be likely (my mother had it, after all), but that we would try a lower-dose birth control pill with some prescription Motrin, and see if it helps with my pain before trying to do a complicated endometriosis diagnosis.<br /><br />Having a tipped uterus I can sort of deal with. I guess. It seems that the main symptoms of it are painful periods (dysmenorrhea) and painful intercourse. It's sort of...<br /><br />I feel sad, for some reason. I guess I was hoping I could get a cure for all of my pain at the doctor's, but now I've come to find out that it's my anatomy working against me, and that, unless I go through some weird surgery, it'll always be that way.<br /><br />Even more, it could make any future attempts to conceive difficult if there is endometriosis causing some of this, which I'm getting more suspicious there is, given the discussions we had and the fact that it can <span style="font-style: italic;">cause</span> a tipped uterus. <br /><br />So, yay. Everything about womanhood is screwed up for me, and could be for a very long time.<br /><br />I feel defeated and like I've let somebody down. Or maybe I was let down. Either way, I wanted a cure, and instead I feel like I got a sentence. I'm not giving up all hope of a normal life. Maybe the new pills will help even things out, I don't know. I'm just tired of hurting.~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-1678570605004316662008-09-16T07:52:00.004-05:002008-09-16T10:59:10.416-05:00Insufficient Funds<span style="font-style: italic;">Update at the bottom: 11:00am 9/16/08</span><br /><br />So, I check the mail this morning, hoping to find that my monthly rent check from my so gracious grandparents had arrived. Instead, I get this letter from Washington Mutual telling me that they're closing my account due to my transactions exceeding limitations.<div><br /></div><div>That's funny, I have $75 in checking and $500-ish in savings. And don't you guys make $12 for every overdraft I do? And didn't I sign up for overdraft protection? What are you protecting me from, then? Overdraft fairies?</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I overdrew a few times, but most of the incidents occured at the very beginning of my fledgling relationship with WaMu, wherein they sent me a Debit card but neglected to send me my PIN for about, oh, 2-3 weeks. So, I had to do guesswork to try and make sure I knew what every transaction I had done was, and when it would come out. Naturally, they would amass over one week and all go through on the same day. WEIRD HOW THAT WORKS. And they also go through in the order that would get them the MOST from overdraft fees.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wacky!</div><div><br /></div><div>But yeah. I've been mostly clean, aside from a few checks that had been post-dated, and thus were impossible for me to track, other than to guess and try and keep the right amount in the account at all times. That doesn't work all the time, but whatever.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was going to go join Wachovia and get a free $25 for me and Fiance anyway. Screw you, WaMu. You guys were most unhelpful. One of the overdraft fees I'm <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">still</span> scratching my head at, because my account available balance never went under $100, much less $0. They were fining me for a transaction that MIGHT make me overdrawn, but hadn't yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enjoy the free $12 this time, jerkwads.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now I have to go start a new bank account instead of slacking off before class. :(<br /><br /><hr /><br /><br />Update!<br /><br />So it turns out it was my SAVINGS account that had done too much "transacting" and was getting shut down. I still withdrew what I had in it and moved it over to Wachovia, because I wasn't going to open another savings account with WaMu when I'm still not certain why they shut down my old one. <br /><br />The guy tried to tell me that transferring money back and forth was only doable 6 times a month, and if you go over that, then federally they have to shut you down. Nobody else has told me anything like this, including my much friendlier assistant at Wachovia who helped get me set up. So, whatever, WaMu. I'm leaving a little bit of money in the checking to make sure nothing is coming out of it, and then I'm high-tailing it out of there.<br /><br />They've always been kind of aloof and uninformative when I had questions or concerns about my accounts and fees they charged me. Any attempt to get help puts me into either a phone queue or an email chain with a robot, and nothing ever comes of it. Wachovia does seem to have to best customer service I've seen in a bank chain, and I am looking forward to working with them.<br /><br />Just gotta make sure I get my debit card & checks soon, so's I can pay the bills. I think I'll be fine, though.<br /><br />Blargh.<br /></div>~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6417241699009102194.post-24686875722736412002008-09-09T18:18:00.006-05:002008-09-10T08:40:31.872-05:00I learned everything I needed to know about being passive aggressive from...My Economics Teacher (name removed).<br /><br />In addition to the class we had yesterday on domestic abuse, I talked to the teacher about an incident that occurred in my high school Senior Year. I don't know if it still is going on or not, and I'm trying to figure it out, but you'll see why later.<br /><br />In AP Economics (the equivalent of Honors classes these days, I believe), there was a teacher who had come from an alternative school where he was beloved by students all over to teach us in our multi-million-dollar school building in a nice school district. I'm sure money had <span style="font-style: italic;">nothing</span> to do with him accepting the position.<br /><br />I'm not going to discredit teachers who work in the alternative-school environment, but all I'm saying is I have NO idea how he survived in that environment without killing people. Anyway.<br /><br />So, Economics is annoying. I'll admit it. It's one graph and one principle that are applied to a bunch of different things. I didn't try as hard as I could have in that class, but I did adequately in it. It was Senior Year, I was graduating when the class was over, I didn't really care that much. That's fair to say, and for the sake of fair argument, I'll fault myself on it.<br /><br />But I am not a disrespectful student. I did not sleep in class. I kept talking to a minimum, when we're done with lecture or whatever (until later on, but I'll explain this progression later). My "not caring" generally just comes out in not doing the readings and just getting by (and "getting by" in high school was making a B on a test).<br /><br />So, what could the problem really be? This teacher was praised high and low for being "awesome" and "funny" by people I respected in both camps. So... what happened? When I got to class, all I saw was an old man who was trying desperately to be considered cool, and would do whatever it took to suck up to the "cool" kids.<br /><br />This included praising people who slept in class instead of people who paid attention consistently. Picking on kids that the cool kids picked on. Wearing tattoo sleeves on Halloween, as well as a grill, or whatever it is that goes in your mouth and makes your teeth all shiny. Also, gloating about living in a rich neighborhood. When pressed for an address, he gave us a fake one.<br /><br />I don't know what this man is like outside of school, I will not judge his character entirely. All I know is that I could not respect him as the year went on. His teaching was dull (but the subject matter is dull, so I didn't fault him that), but the problem lied much deeper than superficial interest levels and how badly he pretended to be cool. Which, incidentally, is enough reason for me to dislike a teacher. I really have a hard time respecting teachers who care more about being liked than teaching. But that's a different matter.<br /><br />He was passive aggressive in the worst way: Spiteful to the students, young adults, he had in his classroom, as well as to the faculty he worked alongside in the school.<br /><br />I don't know what order these incidents occurred in anymore, it's been 2 years, but they all stand out clearly in my mind. One of the first troubling things was when he threw a half-full water bottle at a student in the back.<br /><br />A teacher I loved the year before had tossed a white-board eraser at a student who was sleeping during the lecture. There is a fundamental difference in throwing something that weighs less than a pound, and throwing a bottle half-full of water.<br /><br />I shrugged it off, feeling just a little uncomfortable.<br /><br />Later on, I witnessed other more disturbing things. I began seeking someone to talk to about it, because I was more and more feeling unsettled by the events that were unfolding. Unfortunately, I can't recall many of the things that jumped out at me, but I know I told the head of the social studies department, a friend of mine and a past teacher of mine.<br /><br />However, two other events are still pretty clear in my head.<br /><br />To preface this, I was also enrolled in English IV AP, taught by another friend or so of mine. She was a harsh teacher, but she was fair. If you followed her rules and her groundwork for papers, then things would turn out fine, and she really improved a lot of my form for writing (formally, I still write blogs pretty informally, I'm sure you've noticed). One of her key policies was if you used passive verbs (am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been) in a paper, you would be dropped quite a few points.<br /><br />So, someone made fun of The Economics Teacher or pointed out something about grammar, and likened him to my English teacher.<br /><br />His response: "If I were her, I would shoot myself."<br /><br />This bothered me, a lot. A whole lot. I told her. She told me later that she confronted him about it, and he apparently knew it was me.<br /><br />At this point, I had ratted him out to two sources, and he was not a fan of mine. In class, it had become a thing where, even if I tried to answer a question, he would ignore my raised hand over one of the other kids. He wouldn't respond to my questions. There was a feeling that I was unwelcome in his class.<br /><br />I shrugged and continued on, giving up on trying to answer questions, and sticking to reading what notes I needed and passing his tests fine. I passed notes with a friend of mine, the only other person who had a problem with the way he was behaving in class. Everyone else didn't seem to think his comments were a problem, or at all worrisome. He was just "joking" after all.<br /><br />So, what part of this next one is joking?<br /><br />We had a lockdown drill at our school one day - Where you turn off the lights, lock the door, and hide in a corner with no windows. This test was developed after the school shootings became more commonplace, and is supposed to be the response when an unwelcome visitor is in the school, for whatever reason.<br /><br />There was one student he enjoyed poking fun at. I don't know if they had a relationship outside of class or not, but this comment is unforgivable, regardless.<br /><br />He said, as we huddled into the corner:<br /><br />"I hope they shoot you first."<br /><br />I told someone about this one as well, and finished the semester, graduated, and moved on, putting the jerk behind me.<br /><br />My friend, the one ally I had in the class, called me when the next semester started, letting me know that one of her friends had his class that time around, and that he had pointedly showed the class where we had sat the semester before, and told the class that we were "obnoxious." That we would "fail in life and college."<br /><br />I drove to the school the next day and asked to speak to the principal. When told he was busy, I laid out everything I had seen and heard to the secretary, and she said she would pass it along.<br /><br />I never heard another word about it, and when hearing these things, my professor told me to follow up on it and make sure it was dealt with.<br /><br />Am I crazy? I don't know. I'll look into it, I guess. But I had to lay this stuff out, for memory's sake. It could be that I just did get the wrong vibe from a teacher I disliked... but I've had a lack of respect for teachers without thinking they were going to actually harm students before, so this sure <span style="font-style: italic;">seems</span> different.<br /><br />As for his comments about me and my friend? I don't necessarily <span style="font-style: italic;">believe</span> they were spoken with those words or that tone, but it's possible. The reporter had no real need to make it up to fuel our anger at the man, but since it's hard to validate, I'm just adding it for <span style="font-style: italic;">maybe</span>, not for fact. The fact that it doesn't surprise me if it is true should speak for itself, though.<br /><br />Now, dinner time!~Red~http://www.blogger.com/profile/09343439849321497500noreply@blogger.com0