On doing the laundry....

I hate doing laundry. Hate it. In fact, when I got married, that was one of the first chores that we ultimately decided would be primarily my husband's chore (did you catch that? MY husband. MINE). He sort of used it as a bit of a bargaining chip for further chore divvying and, rightly so, continues to use it as such. I really hate doing laundry that much.

He's good at it too. Sort, separates, folds, the works. Only once has he botched something of mine, but I've since clarified the specific items of my clothing that cannot go in the dryer. There are certain things I have that just have to be air-dried.

Sweaters must be air dried (and then tumbled to soften them up again). Denim is the same.
Pricy undergarments never end up in the dryer.
Sweatshirts and sweatpants, in order to maintain the integrity of the length and softness I require, must also be line dried.

But, naturally, all the clothes must first be washed and clean. I mean, what's the point of airing out dirty laundry?

It's stinky and it makes you look rather foolish. Nobody wants to see your filthy clothes out on the line or hanging over your balcony. It's gross (thank you, Billy Bush).

It makes no sense, right?

Even more foolish would be to take someone else's dirty laundry and air that out all on your own. Frankly, if you have no idea where my laundry is kept or how often I clean it or even when laundry day is in my house, why would you even bother to march into my home and air out my laundry? You have no idea if it's clean or dirty. In fact, some of it may be stained and I may be waiting for the Tide pen to do it's magic. It takes time to clean out stains and you have no idea how long I might have been trying to get rid of the stain or how close I'm getting. Or some of my laundry might be in piles so that I can get rid of all the things I no longer want or need in my life (I purge quite a lot anyhow).

So if someone were to just waltz on into my house, uninvited, and grab whatever laundry they wanted in order to air it out, they might be royally fucking some things up.

My point?

If you want to air your own laundry on your own line, that's fine and I'm okay with it.
But don't drag my laundry into your mess.

I've had roommate before and we've combined laundry. It never really ends well. Socks get mismatched and shirts misplaced. In short, once you get laundry all mixed together, it's really hard to un-mix it. So why even start?

On strengths and weaknesses....

We all have our strengths.

Mine typically lie in the grammatical arenas and occasionally in the creative. I'm a pretty good singer. I do well in the kitchen (especially when I'm baking). When I really feel like it, I can clean a house like you wouldn't believe. I'm a financial mastermind (just ask my husband) and I can plan the hell out of any vacation you want.

My shortcomings are many, I assure you. But the one that really tends to boggle the mind (or bottle it, if you're an Anchorman) is my total lack of mathematical skills whatsoever. I rely really heavily on my fingers, calculators, and Microsoft Excel to make sure that every number in my life adds up correctly.
So what do I do when I spill coffee on the one calculator I have at the office?

Divide by zero, of course!

And in a normal world, where doing this would result in black holes, my calculator now tells me that not only is this possible, but that the answer to any math problem I give it is 3, somehow by default.

So I began asking the calculator other questions.

335 + 50 = 387.50
The 6 key now pulls 00
It has decided that I simply do not need to use the number 9 anymore
Clearing the calculator results in a negative number of your choosing.
And pressing the = key is nothing short of disastrous. 123456 x 6 = 914.494591678

So here's what I can conclude from all of this.
I am not supposed to do math. Ever.

On moving past the hate....

So the last few days have been a bit of a nightmare for me. It's an ongoing process that I'm trying desperately to move though, as quickly as is possible and responsible.

There are things that I want to say, things that keep me awake at night. But I'm trying to put all of that out of my mind. It's just not worth it. The anger and hatred is only really affecting me and eating me alive so I choose to (try to) push past that.

I have a box of sh*t that I no longer deem worthy of being in my home. Much of it will get broken in a final fit of rage. Some will be given away. And still some will hopefully sell well on Craigslist.

Yesterday was the most painful day yet. Fortunately, I had two lovely women recommend the following two songs to me:


Comfortably Numb (Pink Floyd)

Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?
Come on, Come on, Come on, now,
I hear you're feeling down.
Well, I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I'll need some information first.
Just the basic facts.
Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child I had a FEVER My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain, you would not understand
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.
O.K.
Just a little pin prick.
There'll be no more aaaaaaaaah!
But you may feel a little sick.
Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working, good.
That'll keep you going through the show
Come on it's time to go.
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying.
When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
but I have become comfortably numb.


Details In The Fabric (Jason Mraz)

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling all your threads saying
Breaking yourself up

If it's a broken part, replace it
But, if it's a broken heart then brace it
If it's a broken heart then face it

And hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your own name
And go your own way

And everything will be fine
Everything will be fine
Mmmhmm

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I'm doing everything

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you're shocked it's just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing.

Yeah everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Everything

Hold your own
And know your name
And go your own way

Are the details in the fabric

(Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

(Go your own way)

Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way)
Is it Mother Nature's sewing machine?

Are the things that make you blow (Hold your own, know your name)
Hell no reason go on and scream
If you're shocked it's just the fault (Go your own way)
Of faulty manufacturing

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Hearts will hold



And another of my own choosing:

Down To The River To Pray (Alison Krauss)

As I went down to the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the starry crown?
Good Lord show me the way!

O sisters let's go down
Lets go down, Come on down
O sisters lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol way
And who shall wear the robe & crown
Good Lord show me the way

O brothers lets go down
Let's go down, Come on down
O brothers lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol way
And who shall wear the star and crown?
Good lord show me the way

O fathers lets go down
Let's go down, Come on down
O fathers lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol way
And who shall wear th robe and crown
Good Lord show me the way

O mothers lets go down
Come on down, don't you wanna go down?
O Mothers lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the star and crown?
Good Lord show me the way

O sinners lets go down
Lets go down, come on down
O sinners lets go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin about that good ol way
And who shall wear the Robe and crown?
Good Lord show me the way


Music is a huge part of who I am. I'm a terrible lyricist and an even worse songwriter so I use others work as an outlet for myself. It's not nearly as cathartic as calling her names or wishing hateful things or breaking stuff or crying or a million other things I could do to release, but it's far more productive to just listen to music and sing along.


So that's what I'm choosing to do at this point. And I'm throwing in a healthy dose of Owl City because, let's be honest, how can you not feel good when you listen to that techno pop silliness?

On hatred and betrayal....

Possibly the heaviest post to date. And this blog dates back quite a way.

I have been asking myself (and the larger Twitter/Facebook community, somewhat rhetorically) how to deal with hate. I've never experienced it before though I've probably said the word a lot. I mean, I hate mushrooms.

But hating mushrooms isn't emotionally, mentally, physically, or spiritually toxic.

Pure, unadulterated hatred, however, is.

But when you've been so betrayed that it knocks the wind out of you and causes you to just stand there, staring, it's hard to know what else to feel. It's hard to know what to trust.

I keep thinking horrible (and somewhat insane) thoughts. I go over and over in my head things I'd like to say.

But none of this really accomplishes anything. Anger, after all, is a secondary emotion. One that needs to be addressed and dealt with, but secondary nonetheless.

I feel anger because I've been betrayed. I've been lied to. I've been hurt in unforgivable ways.

And because I've never been truly betrayed before, I'm not sure what to feel or how to react. So hate is where I'm stuck right now.

On unexplained cravings....

There comes a time in every person's day when a craving hits. Totally inexplicable, these cravings.

I have them from time to time. And by that, I mean approximately once an hour, typically while I'm at the office.

I wish I could say that I crave the things I truly love...baby carrots, celery, cucumbers, green apples (of the Granny Smith variety), bananas, raspberries, strawberries. My word, I love produce. I mean, I LOVE produce. There is no way to describe my affinty for all things fresh and totally unhampered by all the things I truly hate...trans-fat, empty calories, complex carbs, and most especially, high fructose corn syrup (or, as I like to call it, The Devil's Syrup).

I have oft been described as a yuppie hippie. I wash my laundry in cold water, I almost always have my car in neutral coming down the hill from my office, I buy local, I support sustainable agriculture, blah blah blah. But it's the HFCS that tends to really throw people. I mean, I really really hate it. So much so, that if you were to look inside my fridge or pantry, you'd be hard-pressed to find much in there with the Devil's Syrup in it.

So what does this have to do with my cravings?

A lot.

Because I crave candy.

Excessively.

And the biggest facilitator of my cravings? Laffy Taffy.

Anyone want to guess what the first listed ingredient is?

Gross.

On career mapping....

People with Blue interests like activities that allow them to be creative. This can be through more traditional visual arts, writing or musical pursuits although not limited to these. The creativity is often expressed in thinking of new ideas or strategies that can have a broad range of applications. Blue interests often like thinking about the future and planning for long term benefits. Hobbies include: performing or listening to music, attending theater, story telling, journaling, decorative arts, painting. Career choice often are: Editor, Journalist, Teacher, Strategic Planner, Consultant, Performing Arts, Marketing, Communications, Research and Development.


People with Yellow strengths are good at managing details and creating sophisticated processes that allow them to get complex work done. Once a game plan has been put in place, it is implemented. Their decisions are based on facts and carefully reasoned. When working with other people, they are fair and democratic and always can be counted on to deliver what they commit to.







so there's that...

On knowing my follies....

I know I talk about stressing out a lot, probably more than is really necessary.

But in talking with a friend over the weekend, I discovered something that I don't think I knew before: I get stressed about not being stressed.

That's kind of a messed up way to live life, don't you think?

I've been working on my undergrad since 1999. For people who hate math as much as I do, that means I'm starting my eleventh year of school. Which mean, officially, I've been in school for a grand total of 25 years. Non-stop. Well, okay, I took a break for one semester while I got married and there was a little dicking around when I took worthless classes at community college, but I've been learning stuff for 25 years. And what's weird is that since I've never known my life without school, I'm not quite sure what to do with my life when I do take a break, forced or not.

Take the last six weeks. I had six weeks or 42 days or 504 hours to do, quite simply, nothing. So what did I do? I jammed that full of 11 holiday parties, one visit to the symphony, and baked nearly 600 cookies. I apparently don't know how to slow down.

It's almost like, in order for me to feel like I'm accomplishing something, I have to feel stressed out. It's totally unnecessary and I'm fully aware of that. The problem is that I'm not sure how to fix it. Honestly, for the next 50 weeks, I have to live in a constant state of stress and I'm okay with that. It's the "after that" that I'm worried about.

I told my friend that it's as if I get stressed if I don't have something to be stressed about. "There must be something that I'm forgetting to do!" I told her. But that's not at all the case. I live my life in 15-minute increments -- another folly, I know -- but in doing so, it's very rare that I forget something. I have four calendars that are actively used. It's not like it's really possible for me to forget something (I say, sheepishly).

However, I did make a bit of a pact to myself in an effort to alleviate some of the stress I put on myself, intentionally or otherwise. If I'm asked to do something and I decline said invitation, that's the end of it. I won't allow myself to feel guilty for missing an event or party. I won't feel as if I'm letting someone down for not accepting an invitation out.

Because let's be honest: When you combine Type A with People Pleaser with Constant Stress Box, the results could be disastrous. Unfortunately, I am all of those things.