Albert...

...are you reading this?

I'm not addicted to blogging, really...

but I've been posting over at this other blog: http://bideshisnomore.blogspot.com/.  Over a year ago I started thinking about writing regular snippets on making conscientious living choices.  The idea was to create a central place for sharing easy ways to make a difference in our local and global communities.  I felt that it would give me purpose for doing research to inform my own decisions, and keep me accountable in following through on the results of that research.  (Like stuffing blueberries in my purse and dropping tampons in the parking lot because I forgot my canvas bag, but feel too guilty to accept the plastic instead.)  Still, I put it off for months, rationalizing that 1. do people even really read blogs anyway?, 2. and, would people really read anything I have to say anyway?  

But the nagging feeling was persistent, and in July, I finally published my very first post with no expectations.  While brainstorming ideas for subsequent topics, I remembered the sign I had put on my trash bin in the office (back before I was jaded) to help reduce the number of plastic bags that were needlessly tossed every week.  I realized that maybe I could quietly encourage others to do the same by posting the sign next to the central printer.  My boss noticed, and told me to send her my "green wish list" for our office.  I did my homework and emailed her my suggestions, which were forwarded to her boss, which were forwarded to the Vice Chancellor.  The next day, HE announced the formation of a new Sustainability Committee for the Office of Research, and asked me to be the co-chair that afternoon.  We spent the next few months putting new initiatives into motion, and I got to know the VC well enough to ask him for a letter of recommendation for graduate school.  And in January, we will be a part of a Green Office pilot program that is set to roll out across campus.

So to summarize, so far this blog has brought me:

1. Accountability in my own life decisions;

2. The chance to make a difference in an office that has hundreds of employees; and

3. An awesome letter of recommendation.

I've gotten into posting more regularly now, which is why I'm mentioning it here.  And I'll keep posting, whether or not anybody reads it, because that nagging feeling continues to compel me.  While I'm used to talking to myself, it does make it a lot more interesting when people comment and share their own ideas and opinions - so if you feel like checking it out and joining the conversation, I'd be delighted!

I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, and are looking forward to a New Year.  I'm SO over 2011.

D-U-N-DONE

For better or for worse, my app is in.  I think.  My job has made me paranoid that I missed a minuscule or confusing requirement buried in subsection B subpart 5 that will prevent me from getting in to grad school. Of course, it is far more likely that I won't get in because they don't like me.  Isn't that comforting?

I have been reminded over the past few weeks of how much more I love writing snarky blog entries versus puffed up essays about how awesome I am.  Maybe I should have just linked to my blog - the awesome is all here.

I hear it's nice there this time of year...

Do you ever get to the point in composing an essay where everything you write SUCKS?  We have arrived at that destination.  It took me forever just to write this three-sentence blog entry, plus the blergh that's coming.  BLERGH.

"Ha Ha Ha"

Going through old application materials to remind myself what I used to be am passionate about before I started my job, I found a file entitled, "Ha Ha Ha."  I must have written it when I was loopy trying to finish scholarship applications my senior year.  This is all it said:


"I mean, I like my face, but it’s not the kind of face you’d get surgery to have."


My 2009 self makes me laugh.

Pretty much the same thing

Mom: "Did you find anything online with the Black Market sales?"

Me: "...did you mean Black Friday?"

Mom: "You're going to post this on your blog, right?"

I'm using my GRE book as a wine coaster...

this is going well, don't you think?

I wanted to stay home today....

...and clearly, I should have.  I have gotten pretty much nothing but pissed-off emails, and everything just keeps going wrong.  EVERYTHING.  My m.o. for this kind of day is to review all of the positive things that happened, and to be grateful for the things that didn't happen.  So here goes: 

While I woke up to the unpleasant smell of cat poop because little Scout decided that the surrounding floor was cleaner than the litter-box, I am thankful for a happy, healthy kitty who brings lots of entertainment to my life.  Even though the truck I just spent a lot of money fixing won’t start again, I am grateful that Albert let me borrow his car to get to work.  Even though I got a lot of rude emails from people blaming me for things I have no control over, I am thankful for the great group of people I work with and the fact that I have a dependable paycheck.  Even though I made a typo on the contact information for one of my references that I apparently cannot fix without getting a new email address from this person, I am thankful that he is an understanding person who will hopefully find the humor in this.  (Hopefully.  Seriously, how bad would it look if the application committee sees that I can’t even spell a reference’s name right?  What a dumb application system.  Is there a specific kind of dyslexia for names and email addresses?  Because I think I have it.  No matter how many times I check things over, I often miss the errors.)  And even though my body has been wiped out this week, I am grateful that it is already 2:30 pm on Wednesday, which means we are closer to Friday than the beginning of the week.

Also, I accidentally matched my earrings to my scarf.  BONUS WIN.

Mystery of the Day

How did a Canadian dime end up inside my shoe?

Whoever empties my garbage this week is going to see an awful lot of York Peppermint Pattie wrappers.  Maybe I should put them in the big garbage to protect my anonymity. 

Future Grad Students of the World, UNITE!

I have been studying for the GREs for a while now.  I was being diligent back in the spring, but took a break after my grandpa passed away and I just really didn't feel like reading a pointless book that will help me prepare for a test that bears no relation to the degree I am seeking.  The break was extended when I realized that I resented all professors for making my life miserable at work, and considered if I actually wanted to enter into the world of academia.  I finally committed to applying a few weeks ago, and have been diligently (sometimes) studying ever since.  And I am terrified that I will fail.

Everyone has told me that the GREs are easy.  This makes the fact that I am sucking on the math practice tests even more nerve-wracking and embarrassing, since I'm supposed to be smart or something.  It's not that I'm bad at math - I have done just as well in math as language classes.  But the difference between my high school math tests and the GREs is that I got to double-check my answers on the former. 

In case you haven't noticed, I have trouble focusing.  Call it ADD, call it whatever you want, my brain does not go in order.  I don't read word by word - I skip around the entire paragraph until my brain catches up.  On word problems, this can lead to a lot of errors the first time around, but I am generally able to correct it on the second review.  I can't do that on the GREs.

This would be more tolerable IF THERE WAS A POINT TO THIS TEST.  I am re-learning concepts that I used in high school and will most likely never use again.  Ever.  Including in studying for a Masters in Public Health.  Will anyone out there join me in revolting against the company that produces this unnecessary evil??  Or fix my brain before November 14th?? 

Everything But

Scout is making it very hard for me to work on my personal statement.  She is sprawled across my keyboard looking for a belly rub, and how can I say no to that little face?  If you've met her, you know that's not an option.

This was after cleaning the room I'd be working in, because we all know how crucial a spotless workspace is to get the creative juices flowing.  And I had to make a new playlist on iTunes, because I need songs with a very specific beat to keep me energized but not tempted to sing along.  Head bobbing is ok.  Then I needed something from my cupboard, and discovered bottles and bottles of expired prescriptions, vitamins, and some makeup I think I've had since high school.  That stuff is dangerous!  And since I finally found the essential oil I was looking for, I made another batch of deodorant.  I took pictures so y'all could see the process!  I'll post them later, because I really need to work on my application, but let me just say that  coconut and tea tree oil make a lovely combination on the 'pits.  My stomach started growling, so I had to make a snack, because who can think on an empty stomach?  No way to type while eating a sandwich, so I put on What Not to Wear.  OMG, why didn't anyone give me a heads up on the saggy butt on my "dress" pants??  You would think that the polyester pants I bought at Ross 6 years ago would have lasted longer.  There were a lot of other outdated items taking up valuable closet space, so I sorted some for the SPCA thrift store and some for consignment (those that still had some use in there for someone with a different shaped tush).  And now I have no pants.

I'll be sure to highlight my multitasking and prioritizing skills in the application.

Thank you, thank you, we'll be here all night

Me: I'm gonna go hop in the shower.

Dad: I've found that it's more efficient just to stand, actually.

I swore I would never do this...

You know how you saw your parents do things growing up and thought, "I will never, ever do that in a million years?"  That's what I said about the scotch tape on my mom's glasses.  And what has it come to?  Scotch tape on my cheap ugly glasses while I search for frames that will actually fit my face.  I call it, Operation Tiny-Head.  

DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE TO FIND PETITE EYEGLASS FRAMES??

UPDATED**: The Perfect FibroFace* Weekend

1. Loose, soft clothing, since you don't want anything touching you.
2. Kitties that will curl up and keep you company, since a cat nap is about all the REMs you're going to get.
3. Leftovers in the fridge, or takeout if you're actually hungry.
4. A bank of mindless TV shows, or the discovery of a YouTube channel with full episodes of What Not To Wear.
5. A boyfriend who is somehow telepathic, and knows to bring you the salad and smoothie you were craving on his way back from a late shift at work, even though you never mentioned it.
6. Someone (again, in this case, the BF) who can talk you through the string of (not always rational) emotions and freakouts that surface with the collision of FibroFace and the cycle of the moon.
7. The understanding that it will (hopefully) pass in a few days, and determination not to take your bizarre sudden-onset depression too seriously for the time being.
**8. An awesome friend who brings Thai Tea and company, even though I haven't showered and am not totally mentally there!  (Thanks, Cheri :)

*FibroFace (TM) is a term I use to describe those days when Fibromyalgia catches up with me.  I can chase it off for only so long, and after an especially grueling month, I knew it was bound to happen.  Fatigue, headaches, foggy brain, sensitivity to sunlight, pain no matter how you position your body, bouts of nausea, feeling blue...it's the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink casserole of mysterious diseases :)

Office Workout: Would You Dare?

Ok - make sure to play the videos and read the pro/cons for each exercise!

Tell me: would you dare to do any of these in your office?

Your Face is Fine

Albert said this to me about 7 months ago (I remember because it was the night before my birthday...).  I didn't talk to him the rest of the night.  But what he meant was, I do not feel like catering to your insecurities in a no-win conversation where you are needlessly comparing yourself to other women.  

Or something like that.

In a world saturated by romantic comedies (they call them chick flicks, but guys like them just as much), I think women hope that a man will show up in our life, dramatic music will play, the light will go all sparkly, and he will tell us that we are the most ravishing creature he has ever lain eyes on.  And he will mean it, and we will believe it to be true.

Albert does not look at me like that (though he is the first to admit that he has limited facial expressions).  I'm not sure a man ever has, and if he did, I didn't notice.  There are some women that have a certain je ne sais quoi that makes them turn heads and break hearts like nobody's business.  I am not that girl.  Most of us aren't, and whether or not we like to admit it, we sometimes resent the girl who is.

But over the last few months, I have become increasingly ok with the fact that my face is fine.  I have tried to spend less time looking at it, in fact, and less time thinking about the stress pimples that have popped up and my funky eyelids and how my nose is shaped and my flat hair (and we could work our way down the body, but you would get knocked out by my disproportionate caboose).  I won't go into further detail because chances are, you haven't noticed the aspects of my appearance that prevent me from becoming a supermodel, and if you did, you don't care - and if you do care, we aren't really friends, then, are we?  When we try to live up to the standards we see on TV, on the internet, or even in our more attractive friends, we fight a losing battle that is frankly self-centered and zaps a heckofalotta energy. 

What actually helped change my attitude was developing this bizarre, unsightly rash that could attack at any moment.  This hasn't happened for a few months (EVERYBODY KNOCK ON WOOD, NOW), but within minutes, red welts would appear all over my face.  And due to lack of sick days and understaffing, I had to go to work like this.  No amount of makeup could cover it up, and eyeliner just hurt since my eyelids were swollen.  I had a dozen or so episodes over a year-long period, and that a-hole specialist never figured out what it was (he just poked it and asked if that hurt.  Thank you.  It did.)  So my standards have dropped.  No rash?  I LOOK FABULOUS!

It is so freeing to look in the mirror and think, my face looks fine - and feel totally content with that adjective.  I took pressure off of myself to try to look great, as defined by airbrushed pictures in magazines or glamor shots on facebook, and now I just have fun with putting on makeup and getting dressed on the days that I feel like doing so.  (The getting dressed part isn't optional, just how much effort I put into my choice of clothing.  Glad we cleared that up.) It's not that Albert doesn't think that I'm pretty, or that I don't have days where I actually do feel rather attractive, thankyouverymuch.  And as most women I know, I certainly have ugly days/weeks that seem to be in tune with the changing moon.  But overall, as I check my attitude on how I look on the outside, I find that I have far more energy to care about how I'm looking on the inside.  And I'll leave you with that.

Remembrance and Hope

Today, we remember where we were 10 years ago when we heard that the first tower had been hit, and then the second.  We remember our fellow countrymen of United Airlines Flight 93 - how many lives they saved, we'll never know.  We remember the firefighter who came back from Ground Zero, the catch in his throat as he described what he had seen.  We remember our friend and his family who were harassed in the town they called home just for looking like the men who had committed this travesty.  We remember that our classmates, friends, and family are still serving overseas 10 years later.

We hope for a tomorrow that brings our troops home.  We hope that Americans will continue to make courageous choices - because lives are at stake.  We hope that men, women, and children around the world may live in communities that are safe and thriving.  We hope that Good will prevail.

Posh Dancing

A thanks to Already Pretty for sharing this gem.  I think this works for both those who loved AND those who hated Pride and Prejudice...(*parental advisory!*)

now for the photographic evidence...

We're now at 100 active projects and counting...

I spy...81 project files on my desk...

...and in my file cabinet, and strategically placed on the floor....

I had a dream last night that someone was holding a gun to my head, shouting, “GET MY CONTRACT DONE!  No, REVISE that sentence!  I want FULL CONTROL!  NOW!”

I forgot about it until I checked my email this morning.  It was actually a pretty accurate dream. 

Today I would like to know...

...why my purse smells like feet.  I would blame it on the fact that it's used, but I've had it for a while now.  Friends tell friends when they smell, ok?

Which reminds me: I need to make more deodorant.

forget casual Fridays

My good friend Cysty came back for a visit over the last few days (had I known he would hang on so long, I would have been more creative with the name).  Getting dressed for work today, I pulled on my most comfortable jeans, which are more casual than I would usually wear for work even on Fridays.  I mentioned this to my boss, who then stopped what we were doing and pulled up a website for the Yoga pants she wears to the office.  She.  Is.  Awesome.

Erm...

I'm working on a project that the administrators insist on referring to as "Skin Slippage."  I'm worried that even typing that here might get me some unwanted hits - we'll test out blogger's privacy settings, eh?

Lunchtime Musings

Chinese food and coffee do NOT go well together.

it would be the worst music video EVER, but...

Do you ever pretend that your playlist is actually a soundtrack for your day?  And start walking in slo-mo when you're pretty certain nobody else can see you?  Or start dancing at your desk because you don't really care if they can?

Tell me you don't want to bob your head to this - do you YOO HOO?

What music do YOU choose to help get you through Mondays, as well as TuesdayWednesdayThursdayFridays?  (Ok, yes, I know, this presupposes that people actually read this blog.  But I write for therapy, not recognition :)

 

you know your boyfriend is a cook if...

you get a text in the middle of the day that just says "KNIVES!" and you're not concerned.

(the Chef's knives he ordered just got here.  I can't wait to chop things.)

this is how much they hate us

A customer just told me, "Working with your office is like jumping into a cement pool that has no water in it."

Foothill Summer

It's funny how the survival skills you learn growing up stay with you.  I haven't spent a July day at my parents' house in years, and yet, even with the TV on and the little fountain burbling away, I deciphered the particular "hhhhhhhhhhhsssssssss" that means one thing in the middle of a foothill summer:

*You might not be able to see it very well in the video, but what set the snake off was finding one of the dog's bouncy balls...he (or she) found it threatening, apparently.

The task fell unto my mom and me to take down the rattler.  (Or pay some local business $175 to come and shoot it.  Sometimes I think that MY jobs sucks.  Perspective is everything.)  I think this is the first time I've ever experienced Fear with a capitol F, though the word I used to describe it at the time also may have started with an F.  My mom kept her cool and called the shots, while I could barely look at the thing without literally shaking - though I didn't realize it until I was trying to keep the shovel in one place while my mom attempted to sever the head off.  (For those of you without redneck pasts, the venom is stored in a rattler's head.  And a rattler is a rattlesnake.)

Two shovels, a hammer, a hoe, two coffee cans - because the first wasn't big enough - a roll of duct tape and 45 minutes later, the poisonous bastard was secured.  And then I made mojitos.

Meow.

There is a person meowing outside my window right now. 

And goodnight.

Dear Naked Juice,

Thank you for brightening my day, in color, in taste, in satisfaction.  Your orange mango variety takes me to a northern California beach, just warm enough to enjoy the wind off the waves against the jagged coastline, my feet buried in the toasted sand.  Thank you for providing the no added sugar, no preservatives, non-GMO, gluten free, vegan, sustainably grown juice of 4 cups of fruit per serving so I can meet my daily produce needs without the environment having to suffer negative consequences.  And I delight in your provocative name.  It IS liquid sunshine.

Love,

JM

I hope I'm this cool at her age

Yesterday, at church, Albert accidentally bumped into an older woman in the foyer.  Her response?

"That's ok.  It's nice being bumped by somebody young for once."

The Beauty Callibrator

The first major YouTube video I've ever seen that had ZERO dislikes.  Even Surprised Kitty had some haters. 

Dear Grocery Outlet,

Thank you for being across the street so I am never more than 30 seconds away from ice cream on a bad day.


Love,
your neighbor

I have a bitta Britta in me

Community has really been there for me in these last few difficult months.  And by Community I don't mean the people in my life, but rather, the TV show.  The quirky humor, outrageous stunts, and flawed characters resonate with me, and probably with all of our desire to be accepted just as we are and spend our days in epic paintball fights.  It adds a touch of whimsy to my current life, with just enough reality to keep the show fresh.  I didn't like it the first few times I watched, partly because the Britta character annoyed me.  But I quickly realized how many of my own characteristics were reflected (in an exaggerated way) through her storylines.

1. I am a bit of a buzzkill.  Blame it on older child syndrome, being perpetually overly responsible and able to identify all of the things that could go wrong in a given situation while others float in blissful acceptance of life's risks.  That's why I made a good lifeguard, and why I recently scolded the boys (cough cough men in their mid-twenties) at a party for throwing firecrackers at each others butts, when, just as I had feared, one really did send sparks into somebody's eye.  I try to turn the worrying off, I try to use statistics to convince myself that the chance of anything happening is slim, but invariably, my anxieties are proven right.  Sigh.

2. I'm kinda intense.  I always wondered why my stories were met with awkward silence.  Apparently, some of my life experiences and philosophies are sorta extreme.  My good friend Andrew finally pointed this out to me, and it's been very helpful.

3. I wish I was doing more to change the world.  I've traveled, I've interned, I've rallied, I've raised and donated money, but it doesn't feel like enough.  Especially not now as I sit in the comfort of my own apartment, albeit surrounded by used furniture, two rescue kitties, and unable to use my bathroom sink due to unexplained plumbing issues.  I do feel like I'm at my job for a reason, getting excellent training in a hard-to-come-by and much-needed skillset in the nonprofit and ministry realm.  I sometimes just wish that the next steps were more clear.

4. I expect too much from myself and other people, and am continually disappointed.  While Community has been there for me, community has not.  I think this may be related to No. 3, that people are often unsure of how to response to crises outside of their own experience.  I was raised to let someone know that you're thinking of them, even if all you have to say is that you don't know what to say.  And even as I feel a bit lonely and surprised at the lack of response from friends (with some very notable exceptions), I also feel guilty for not being updated on what's going on in their lives.  I guess we TwentySomethings are pretty caught up in our own continual crises of self and security.

6. I used to pronounce bagel wrong.  I have no idea why.  I still have to focus sometimes to make sure I don't ask for a "bahgul."  I also used to refer to bags as "begs."

For the WIN

I just made it an entire month without taking a sick day.

JM: 1
FM: 0

Happy New Year!

Lil sis and I are shown here wearing the "Party Crowns" I fashioned from items at the Nevada City Dollar Store, where everything is $1.29 (the twenty-nine cents makes a huge difference in quality, let me tell you!).  We wore these to the convalescent hospital to visit Gpa, where we took over the building and turned it into a rave.

Here's to 2011,

JM