Sometimes I seem to escape danger by the skin of my teeth. At least, that is how it seemed yesterday. It was Monday after a weekend with too much going on and probably not enough sleep, coupled with raging period symptoms, and so I was just dragging after work, thinking of all of the errands that I needed to run but how little I wanted to do anything after work. But I dragged myself to get more coffee, because that would not be pretty if I ran out of coffee in the middle of the week. And I got home and found that my neighbors giant truck was crashed into my spot. Someone had hit his truck (which is really giant, it's one of those things with a hemi engine and easily a foot longer than most cars) and pushed it a foot into my spot. Had my car been in my usual spot, it would have been smushed. And had I been in my car at the time, well that would have been unpleasant. So thankfully I stopped for coffee before going home.
Parking around my place has been bugging me a bit anyway. My neighbor's truck has been run into a ton of times, and considering it is right next to my car, that makes me nervous. Also every once in a while it is very tight to get into my spot and once last week, someone had cars parked blocking the entry way. I prefer to park in my spot than on the street (not the least of reasons in that I am not much of a parallel parker) but if I can't get into my spot, I am forced to park on the street. And I know calling my landlady does next to no good. I'd say 85% of the time, there are no problems, but sometimes that 15% stacks up and really annoys me.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Open Letter to My Ex That I Would Never Send
Dear R,
I realize that next month it will have been three years since we broke up. Three years since I kicked your broke ass out of my apartment, and really, your soul-sucking behaviors out of my life. I'm still not sure you really get it, you know, on how a grown-ass man (twelve years older than me!) could ask a woman he is living with, who is supporting him, what he should do, and when she says get a job, he gets mad. Mad. That was really the thing that broke me, but there were a lot of times when things were broken before that.
Sometimes I do miss having you as a friend. Every once in a while something happens, and I think about how you'd probably like it, like how I'm watching this new sitcom called Community which was recommended by one of C's friends. I stopped watching sitcoms after you left, because let's face it, you watched some of the stupidest ones and made me watch them, like that idiotic one with Jim Belushi. That was just awful. Or Everyone Loves Raymond which just made me cringe most of the time with how mean the people were to each other, and how that's supposed to be funny, supposed to be a family. Not like TV needs to be realistic, but I prefer my humor purposeful dark humor, and not that nasty shit.
The other week, I looked up your sister to see what she was doing. How many times did I have dinner with her, at her house? It seemed like it was more than weekly sometimes. And I don't know how many ways to say she was not my kind of person, at all, but you know she seemed to try, and she was there for you a lot of the time. Though whenever things didn't go your way with her or your mom, you'd be out there calling them bitches. Yeah. That's a bad sign. And to be over forty and to have these two women in your life telling you what to do, and you wanted me to be the third. Another bad sign.
The cats are doing well. It's funny because sometimes I think of Teddy as your cat, because you picked him out but he's really my cat. He's so different from Kiki who has, from the moment I met her, felt like a part of me. Teddy is just his own little original self, self-interested, playful, greedy, and ultimately very attached to me. I don't know what he would have been like if you were still here, but I knew when you were moving out that you couldn't take care of yourself, much less him. He needed me, and I needed him, and it's gone very well. He's going to be four years old in May, which sounds ridiculous because I remember him as a tiny kitten.
Sometimes, when I do miss you and your friendship, I start to think about all the cruel things you did. Like constantly criticizing how I talked, how I ate, hell, how I yawned. How you would say hurtful things to me, or start gesturing to me instead of telling me how you felt, so I always had to be aware of your body language, lest I piss you off further. How sometimes I would come home from a day at my job, which is dealing with critical and often mean people, and just want to go to sleep so I wouldn't have to deal with you too. But you'd be all amped up because you got up at 3 PM and had two pots of coffee and hadn't talked to anyone, and you wanted to yap at me like a puppy. And then we'd eat the groceries I bought, the meals you cooked (and often burnt, let's be frank), and watch the sitcoms. Maybe I'd be typing on my laptop during, which would be too loud to you. Or I'd laugh wrong, or say something too softly, or disagree. Or even take a crap. You were so disgusted by that, but let me tell you, everyone poops. They wrote a book about it, even. And I'd go to bed early.
Recently I've been thinking a lot about what made me put up with all of this, because I don't want to ever do it again. My therapist says that it all has a lot to do with one's initial upbringing, and the things we found lacking there. I don't know why I always felt criticism as a child was something I had to put up with, and then, when it came as an adult, it didn't phase me. But when I was a child, what adults said was sacrosanct. It's only now that I realize that most of what people says is about THEM and isn't really about me at all. I don't know if all of those times you were critical of me, that you were consciously manipulating me and putting me down to control me or if you were just so miserable about your own self and your own life that you had to tear me down. I guess in a real way, I don't really need to understand you. I don't really care why you did what you did, I just want to make sure I don't put up with that bullshit again.
So, yeah, I started dating someone else. Who isn't perfect either, but seems to like me as I am and accept me for not being perfect, for having faults. And you know, he laughs at me having to go pee in the middle of the night many times, but he isn't picking on me about it or bringing it up later as something I should be ashamed about. And sometimes he talks quietly, and I strain to listen or ask him to repeat, but I don't take that as some kind of attack or problem. Sometimes, I talk quietly as well. And you know, C is just a really nice guy who owns up to his own problems and doesn't push them out on other people. And he makes me giddy sometimes, when I know I'm going to see him, I smile.
- Me
I realize that next month it will have been three years since we broke up. Three years since I kicked your broke ass out of my apartment, and really, your soul-sucking behaviors out of my life. I'm still not sure you really get it, you know, on how a grown-ass man (twelve years older than me!) could ask a woman he is living with, who is supporting him, what he should do, and when she says get a job, he gets mad. Mad. That was really the thing that broke me, but there were a lot of times when things were broken before that.
Sometimes I do miss having you as a friend. Every once in a while something happens, and I think about how you'd probably like it, like how I'm watching this new sitcom called Community which was recommended by one of C's friends. I stopped watching sitcoms after you left, because let's face it, you watched some of the stupidest ones and made me watch them, like that idiotic one with Jim Belushi. That was just awful. Or Everyone Loves Raymond which just made me cringe most of the time with how mean the people were to each other, and how that's supposed to be funny, supposed to be a family. Not like TV needs to be realistic, but I prefer my humor purposeful dark humor, and not that nasty shit.
The other week, I looked up your sister to see what she was doing. How many times did I have dinner with her, at her house? It seemed like it was more than weekly sometimes. And I don't know how many ways to say she was not my kind of person, at all, but you know she seemed to try, and she was there for you a lot of the time. Though whenever things didn't go your way with her or your mom, you'd be out there calling them bitches. Yeah. That's a bad sign. And to be over forty and to have these two women in your life telling you what to do, and you wanted me to be the third. Another bad sign.
The cats are doing well. It's funny because sometimes I think of Teddy as your cat, because you picked him out but he's really my cat. He's so different from Kiki who has, from the moment I met her, felt like a part of me. Teddy is just his own little original self, self-interested, playful, greedy, and ultimately very attached to me. I don't know what he would have been like if you were still here, but I knew when you were moving out that you couldn't take care of yourself, much less him. He needed me, and I needed him, and it's gone very well. He's going to be four years old in May, which sounds ridiculous because I remember him as a tiny kitten.
Sometimes, when I do miss you and your friendship, I start to think about all the cruel things you did. Like constantly criticizing how I talked, how I ate, hell, how I yawned. How you would say hurtful things to me, or start gesturing to me instead of telling me how you felt, so I always had to be aware of your body language, lest I piss you off further. How sometimes I would come home from a day at my job, which is dealing with critical and often mean people, and just want to go to sleep so I wouldn't have to deal with you too. But you'd be all amped up because you got up at 3 PM and had two pots of coffee and hadn't talked to anyone, and you wanted to yap at me like a puppy. And then we'd eat the groceries I bought, the meals you cooked (and often burnt, let's be frank), and watch the sitcoms. Maybe I'd be typing on my laptop during, which would be too loud to you. Or I'd laugh wrong, or say something too softly, or disagree. Or even take a crap. You were so disgusted by that, but let me tell you, everyone poops. They wrote a book about it, even. And I'd go to bed early.
Recently I've been thinking a lot about what made me put up with all of this, because I don't want to ever do it again. My therapist says that it all has a lot to do with one's initial upbringing, and the things we found lacking there. I don't know why I always felt criticism as a child was something I had to put up with, and then, when it came as an adult, it didn't phase me. But when I was a child, what adults said was sacrosanct. It's only now that I realize that most of what people says is about THEM and isn't really about me at all. I don't know if all of those times you were critical of me, that you were consciously manipulating me and putting me down to control me or if you were just so miserable about your own self and your own life that you had to tear me down. I guess in a real way, I don't really need to understand you. I don't really care why you did what you did, I just want to make sure I don't put up with that bullshit again.
So, yeah, I started dating someone else. Who isn't perfect either, but seems to like me as I am and accept me for not being perfect, for having faults. And you know, he laughs at me having to go pee in the middle of the night many times, but he isn't picking on me about it or bringing it up later as something I should be ashamed about. And sometimes he talks quietly, and I strain to listen or ask him to repeat, but I don't take that as some kind of attack or problem. Sometimes, I talk quietly as well. And you know, C is just a really nice guy who owns up to his own problems and doesn't push them out on other people. And he makes me giddy sometimes, when I know I'm going to see him, I smile.
- Me
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Gossips
I have been trying to temper how much gossiping I do, particularly about people I actually know. I don't really feel bothered by gossiping about celebrities, because in some way they are public property, and also, they are remote and it's not like I'd ever discover any interesting information that wasn't already put up on several gossip websites. But gossiping about people I already know, well that's a lot easier. Particularly people that I feel not especially close too, perhaps because I feel that they would gossip about me or have done some wrong to me in the past.
In the last week or so, I found out some pretty choice gossip about someone that I know and don't particularly like. So I find myself talking about it, thinking about it, wanting to spread it around. Now, this person could probably care less about me and my opinion of this, and probably could care less that I'm spreading it around. But I found myself so fascinated by this story, that I was delving online into livejournal for more clues about what had happened and what was going on. And then reading boring years of journaling that had no further information but was mostly random drivel that reminded me why I didn't really like this person that much in the first place.
Even after reading today about people who gossip being healthier, I still am thinking that this level of negativity and mockery isn't really good for me. At least in this particular case. I do try to find a compassionate side for people in these situations, though in this instance, all I feel is a slight amusement.
In the last week or so, I found out some pretty choice gossip about someone that I know and don't particularly like. So I find myself talking about it, thinking about it, wanting to spread it around. Now, this person could probably care less about me and my opinion of this, and probably could care less that I'm spreading it around. But I found myself so fascinated by this story, that I was delving online into livejournal for more clues about what had happened and what was going on. And then reading boring years of journaling that had no further information but was mostly random drivel that reminded me why I didn't really like this person that much in the first place.
Even after reading today about people who gossip being healthier, I still am thinking that this level of negativity and mockery isn't really good for me. At least in this particular case. I do try to find a compassionate side for people in these situations, though in this instance, all I feel is a slight amusement.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
At Least I Have A Health Plan
Like any birth control conscious mid thirties sexually active woman, I notice when I'm down to my last birth control pack, notice that there are no refills left, and go online to schedule an appointment with my gynecologist. When I show up, they think it's weird that I came in for an appointment because I am good for Pap smears for a few years, but while I'm there, why not poke around and test my blood pressure a few times. I mostly like my gynecologist, but he's a guy and when I'm trying to tell him that my periods hurt, he is kind of like, take Advil. The interesting thing I found out was that they switched my regular prescription to some generic medication about halfway through, when I started experiencing really bad periods. So, we discuss how that might be the problem, and then he writs me a renewal for the non-generic medication, which then ends up costing me way way more than the one I had before. Thanks, Kaiser.
I guess the good thing is knowing that I won't have to come back for a few years. To the gynecologist anyway. The check on my blood pressure which swings wildly depending on which machine they use to read it means that I should go into see my regular doctor soon. Oh yeah, and my copay went up this year, which I guess evens out with having to pay 4 times as much for this prescription that I just got. In all actuality, I know many people have it way worse than me, but I am feeling slightly disgruntled by the whole experience. It's not really fun having the doctor shove his hands up your hoo-ha particularly when you feel kind of gassy from having chili the night before and are pretty sure you are going to relax and then fart on him. Thankfully I managed to avoid that outcome.
I guess the good thing is knowing that I won't have to come back for a few years. To the gynecologist anyway. The check on my blood pressure which swings wildly depending on which machine they use to read it means that I should go into see my regular doctor soon. Oh yeah, and my copay went up this year, which I guess evens out with having to pay 4 times as much for this prescription that I just got. In all actuality, I know many people have it way worse than me, but I am feeling slightly disgruntled by the whole experience. It's not really fun having the doctor shove his hands up your hoo-ha particularly when you feel kind of gassy from having chili the night before and are pretty sure you are going to relax and then fart on him. Thankfully I managed to avoid that outcome.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Spring Has Sprung
I'm pretty sure it's spring here. Because they don't call it "end of winter forward" for daylight savings time, right? And we just had to go through that mess this weekend. Also I would definitely classify the weather that we are having in Northern California as springy. It has been sunny and warm every day (except last Friday when it was pouring rain, go figure). And I started noticing that wonderful pollen-induced allergy feeling last week, and managed to find the faux-Claritin that I had bought last allergy season and there was still enough of it to start taking now. It seems to be pushing down that weird pain in my sinuses a bit, so that's good.
As an absurd leap of faith that it is in fact spring, I just put the lighter-weight comforter on the bed and put the regular cotton sheets on. I like sleeping with the heavier comforter on top of me, but I really think it is getting too hot for that. Also, it was time to wash the heavier comforter-cover because it was becoming gray with cat fur.
Cross your fingers for me that we don't get another cold front here. Though our cold front means that it is as low as forty at night, so that's not really that cold to most people in other parts of the country.
As an absurd leap of faith that it is in fact spring, I just put the lighter-weight comforter on the bed and put the regular cotton sheets on. I like sleeping with the heavier comforter on top of me, but I really think it is getting too hot for that. Also, it was time to wash the heavier comforter-cover because it was becoming gray with cat fur.
Cross your fingers for me that we don't get another cold front here. Though our cold front means that it is as low as forty at night, so that's not really that cold to most people in other parts of the country.
Friday, March 12, 2010
This week has just been kind of crappy, but nothing really specific that I could put my finger on. Well, we did have some kind of fire at a nearby building that filled our air with toxic smoke. And I've had a sort of sinus-y headache for the last day or two, probably a result of pollen since it is springish here. And I was just tired for no reason on Tuesday. But nothing major really bad, just a kind of blah week.
So here I am on Friday, and I am going through my work email and I found all kinds of emails from my ex and his family and I just finally deleted them and emptied the trash. It's been almost three years since I told him to move out. One of those weird things because it sometimes seems like no time has passed at all, and on the other hand, three years.
I have been feeling my age this week (despite my many deep layers of denial that I'm still 29 years old, I know I'm not really). I'm going to be 37 in a few months, which just sounds freaking old to me. I was thinking about how often every week, I'm just working for the weekends, trying to get through one day at a time. That has worked for me to so long, but I also feel like I'm nearing middle-age and haven't really made any long-term goals or done anything. Not like I ever was one of those super-ambitious or dedicated people anyway, but I was starting to worry that I'd end up pissing away my whole life waiting for the weekend and eventually retirement. And the way things are going with the economy, retirement seems further and further away.
Hm, not the cheeriest post ever, that's for sure.
So here I am on Friday, and I am going through my work email and I found all kinds of emails from my ex and his family and I just finally deleted them and emptied the trash. It's been almost three years since I told him to move out. One of those weird things because it sometimes seems like no time has passed at all, and on the other hand, three years.
I have been feeling my age this week (despite my many deep layers of denial that I'm still 29 years old, I know I'm not really). I'm going to be 37 in a few months, which just sounds freaking old to me. I was thinking about how often every week, I'm just working for the weekends, trying to get through one day at a time. That has worked for me to so long, but I also feel like I'm nearing middle-age and haven't really made any long-term goals or done anything. Not like I ever was one of those super-ambitious or dedicated people anyway, but I was starting to worry that I'd end up pissing away my whole life waiting for the weekend and eventually retirement. And the way things are going with the economy, retirement seems further and further away.
Hm, not the cheeriest post ever, that's for sure.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Who Left Me In Charge?
In the six months since my therapy group ended, I have be come the de facto leader. Well not leader so much as social secretary. See, I'm at least a dozen years younger than the next youngest woman, and as being the youngest, well, I know how computers work and all so I am the one who maintains the email addresses and sends out the evites so somehow all this co-ordination goes through me.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad if people just followed my instructions, but then we have these weird situations. We had a potluck thing on Tuesday, and I setup the invite so people could pick which item they were bringing, so we didn't end up with eight desserts, you know. And well, the respondents just ignored it and somehow we ended up with almost everyone bringing a dessert. It was like a Vegas buffet, a sugary orgy. It wasn't the worst thing that could happen, but it somehow doesn't appeal to my sense of order and people following instructions.
Also, one of the women was having some dental work done the day after or something, so she asked the woman whose house it was at to ask me to change the date. Two days after I sent out the invite and people had responded. Um no. Needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and really, this person managed to make it anyway without changing the date. But then I had to deal with the aggravation ("the nerve of this person!") and all of that. And me wondering if I'm just as stubborn and bitchy as my ex thought I was. (Maybe I am, but who said that's a bad thing.)
And now, the day after, one of the women wrote me to tell me that she thinks she got some illness from the party, and wondered if anyone else had told me that they got sick. No one had, so she then recounted exactly what is wrong with her (either stomach flu or food poisoning). And from my experience, either of those things could have just as easily come from her early meals and meetings and not from this party. But somehow, I feel somewhat responsible, or at least, have to hear about it in detail.
At the end of the evening, or at least, when I was leaving (since young people seem to need more sleep than older people), we setup a date and location for the next meeting, and then I suggested, gently, that maybe someone else could send out the invite next time. "But you do such a good job!" Argh.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad if people just followed my instructions, but then we have these weird situations. We had a potluck thing on Tuesday, and I setup the invite so people could pick which item they were bringing, so we didn't end up with eight desserts, you know. And well, the respondents just ignored it and somehow we ended up with almost everyone bringing a dessert. It was like a Vegas buffet, a sugary orgy. It wasn't the worst thing that could happen, but it somehow doesn't appeal to my sense of order and people following instructions.
Also, one of the women was having some dental work done the day after or something, so she asked the woman whose house it was at to ask me to change the date. Two days after I sent out the invite and people had responded. Um no. Needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and really, this person managed to make it anyway without changing the date. But then I had to deal with the aggravation ("the nerve of this person!") and all of that. And me wondering if I'm just as stubborn and bitchy as my ex thought I was. (Maybe I am, but who said that's a bad thing.)
And now, the day after, one of the women wrote me to tell me that she thinks she got some illness from the party, and wondered if anyone else had told me that they got sick. No one had, so she then recounted exactly what is wrong with her (either stomach flu or food poisoning). And from my experience, either of those things could have just as easily come from her early meals and meetings and not from this party. But somehow, I feel somewhat responsible, or at least, have to hear about it in detail.
At the end of the evening, or at least, when I was leaving (since young people seem to need more sleep than older people), we setup a date and location for the next meeting, and then I suggested, gently, that maybe someone else could send out the invite next time. "But you do such a good job!" Argh.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Irritation
While I realize that ultimately what I can control is not the situations around me, but my feelings about those situations, that realization hasn't stopped me from feeling really irritated today. I could make a whole list of all of those things that are irritating me including someone coughing loudly (and probably not putting her hand over her mouth). I didn't go to work yesterday because I wasn't feeling well (upset stomach, will not go into detail here) and not going to work one day sometimes makes me feel like never going to work again. I'm sure I'd get bored sleeping all day at home, eventually, but now I feel frustrated with having to stay awake, much less work.
I feel right now that if someone wanted to suggest a Thelma and Louise type scenario, I'd go for it.
I feel right now that if someone wanted to suggest a Thelma and Louise type scenario, I'd go for it.
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