These are some items on the top of my brain today (and for the last couple of days). I am currently trying to compete with my popular husband to get more (if not at least maybe as many) friends on my facebook than he has. Currently I have around 190 friends, he's in the 250s. It sucks to have been a little of a loner in high school.
Meanwhile, as I increase my friendship profile, I have currently been thinking a lot about sex. Weird- and I'll blame it on the pregnancy. My last doctor's appointment had me sent away with a very precautionary limited-activity prescription. Translation: I'm really fine, but just in case I am not allowed to run a marathon or have sex. So I wasn't really interested in marathons, and not that sex has been, um, plentiful lately- apparently when you're told NOT to do something, there is a psychological response that occurs. So- I have been having some very explicit sex dreams. I'm in some, some are just like somewhat sophisticated pornos. I kid you not. I wake up every morning thinking- wow- I really have some pent up energy there! However, I am not overly imaginative- so don't get excited. The dreams are very basic and involve only quite normal sex things. It's enough for me, I guess. I would think that since the condition I am in has been caused by sex, I wouldn't be so dramatizing and fantasizing about it in my dreams. But no, my dreams have come alive. My husband is a little disappointed that my sex life is all happening during REM. Oh well, doctor's orders.
Then there is the other completely unrelated topic: haircuts. I've been scanning old photos of myself and friends and family into my facebook account (a ploy to get more friends). And it has taken me down memory lane, but mostly- I covet my good hair days. I have not had a professional hair cut (even "hairs r us" would count) for.... over 2 years. I have told myself it is a small sacrifice and really, who needs a professional hair cut when their sister will cut it for free every 6 months or so. As it turns out, I might. My hair is... I think crying. I have it in a pony tail day in and out- occasionally let it down to curl, but most immediately pull it back up and away in a bun. It wants to be loved, carressed... wait- maybe these topics aren't unrelated. The point is- I need a hair cut. I want a hair cut. The only problem is that they tell pregnant ladies not to get a hair cut- because you might do something drastic with all those hormones running around. But the problem is- I need something dramatic, otherwise why not just let my sister cut it again? She can do dramatic- the scizzors are just not as quality.
So there you go. I'm at work. Thinking about facebook, sex, and haircuts.
I guess I could get my hair cut.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Pregnancy Hormones
So the news is officially out- and it seems so are my hormones. The cry-baby ones. Sometimes I hate being pregnant (by the way if you are learning for the first time I am pregnant from this- I hope I tried to call you and tell you!). I don't mean I hate the baby- right now it's nice and tiny and hasn't been kicking me or anything- its legs aren't long enough. No- I hate the emotions and realities that come crashing in when you are expecting a new family member.
The emotions honestly have not been wreaking havok on my system, but classic "me"- they've been lurking underneath, waiting for the INoportune time to show up. Aka- my boss' office. Yes- I cried in front of my boss today- not because he yelled at me, not because he was particularly mean or angry- no- my hormones jumped out and cried. We were discussing the previously mentioned "job bullshit" (finally) and I burst into tears. Stupid face-scrunching tears. Now- I am the hypocrite who tells everyone to let their tears out- feel the feeling, but I like to cry alone and preferably in the shower. Not in my boss' office.
So the emotions and realities: apparently when you have a baby in your stomach, all the things that you didn't let yourself think about before or cry about before- want to be thought over and cried over. Let me give you some examples: 1) Not being close to family, 2) Not having a fabulous garden (I can't make this crap up) 3) Not being close to family, and 4) Not being close to family. My friends happen to be in the same general non-local area as my family- so let's throw them in for 5.
My boss basically ultimately decided as a compromise that he would rather I not take comp time for out of state vacations. Which of course in my irrational head I considered as a direct punishment for not living near my family, because if they all lived 2 hours away, I wouldn't have to leave the state except once a year for beach therapy. And I might have said that out loud. I really don't seem to be good with "fearing" authority. I gratefully got the rest of the staff out of this ridiculous comp time mess, never really got a solid answer on whether or not anyone had a problem with me (he said no one had an issue with how I do my job and that I do a good job- but my insecurities and hormones are suspicious).
So that's how I came to cry in the office. He thought it was about him, and a little bit of it was and I didn't mind making him squirm (although the plan was not originally through tears)- but really it was about where I am in life and where I want to be. I have lived my whole life a military brat: "bloom where you're planted." I've done a decent job at doing that, not being homesick for a minute of my life- not even Freshman year of college (especially not that year). I've never associated a physical place to my home, and so have been happily homeless for years. Now the one thing that my parents did screw up on was when they told me that home is where your family is. Well- after I was done escaping from family in college and so on, I wanted to go back home- but then I had new family (Jason)- so home became Virginia. And it's been blessing upon blessing- my Grandmother lives here, we have a wonderful (too huge) home, we have a fun (big hairy) dog, and we aren't very far from my new family (in-laws). So what's not to love? I even found a dream job or two.
But dammit- home is where the family is- and as long as the rest of my family (and my first family that was the only stable thing in my life growing up) is a million miles away- I'm still feeling homeless. And when I have a baby in my stomach- that makes me uneasy. I've never been able to say it before, but Jason was right: I need to be near my family. Once you admit that, there's no going back to fantasy "bloom where you're planted" land. So now everything I think of and do seems to point me home. And it's making me crazy.
Pregnancy hormones suck.
The emotions honestly have not been wreaking havok on my system, but classic "me"- they've been lurking underneath, waiting for the INoportune time to show up. Aka- my boss' office. Yes- I cried in front of my boss today- not because he yelled at me, not because he was particularly mean or angry- no- my hormones jumped out and cried. We were discussing the previously mentioned "job bullshit" (finally) and I burst into tears. Stupid face-scrunching tears. Now- I am the hypocrite who tells everyone to let their tears out- feel the feeling, but I like to cry alone and preferably in the shower. Not in my boss' office.
So the emotions and realities: apparently when you have a baby in your stomach, all the things that you didn't let yourself think about before or cry about before- want to be thought over and cried over. Let me give you some examples: 1) Not being close to family, 2) Not having a fabulous garden (I can't make this crap up) 3) Not being close to family, and 4) Not being close to family. My friends happen to be in the same general non-local area as my family- so let's throw them in for 5.
My boss basically ultimately decided as a compromise that he would rather I not take comp time for out of state vacations. Which of course in my irrational head I considered as a direct punishment for not living near my family, because if they all lived 2 hours away, I wouldn't have to leave the state except once a year for beach therapy. And I might have said that out loud. I really don't seem to be good with "fearing" authority. I gratefully got the rest of the staff out of this ridiculous comp time mess, never really got a solid answer on whether or not anyone had a problem with me (he said no one had an issue with how I do my job and that I do a good job- but my insecurities and hormones are suspicious).
So that's how I came to cry in the office. He thought it was about him, and a little bit of it was and I didn't mind making him squirm (although the plan was not originally through tears)- but really it was about where I am in life and where I want to be. I have lived my whole life a military brat: "bloom where you're planted." I've done a decent job at doing that, not being homesick for a minute of my life- not even Freshman year of college (especially not that year). I've never associated a physical place to my home, and so have been happily homeless for years. Now the one thing that my parents did screw up on was when they told me that home is where your family is. Well- after I was done escaping from family in college and so on, I wanted to go back home- but then I had new family (Jason)- so home became Virginia. And it's been blessing upon blessing- my Grandmother lives here, we have a wonderful (too huge) home, we have a fun (big hairy) dog, and we aren't very far from my new family (in-laws). So what's not to love? I even found a dream job or two.
But dammit- home is where the family is- and as long as the rest of my family (and my first family that was the only stable thing in my life growing up) is a million miles away- I'm still feeling homeless. And when I have a baby in my stomach- that makes me uneasy. I've never been able to say it before, but Jason was right: I need to be near my family. Once you admit that, there's no going back to fantasy "bloom where you're planted" land. So now everything I think of and do seems to point me home. And it's making me crazy.
Pregnancy hormones suck.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Job Bullshit
I've just eaten my 4th peppermint patty (the smaller kind) and I have about 30 minutes to get ready to go to a boy scout banquet.
There are some things in my life right now that seem just a bit off, odd, or - well- obligatory. I love my job, I'll say that before I complain. What I don't love is job bullshit. Every work place has it- mine is considerably less inundated with it than the average "office space" corporation. Church work comes with its own species of bullshit, and I'm skilled at avoiding it, but every now and then- it bites me in the butt.
I have recently had a triangulating conversation and email about how I've kept track of my hours for the 2 years I've been working at this church. I won't go into the nitty gritty details, but let's just say person A told me person B doesn't like how I've been doing it- and so they're going to go and retroactively calculate my leave time according to their new method- 2 years into the process. I call this bullshit. And I'm going to talk to person B who should have talked to me to begin with - and politely explain my bullshit theory.
All that to say- I hate working for money. I am actually serious. I would much rather have some sort of income not dependant on my job/etc- say- be independantly wealthy- and then volunteer. You see volunteers always are good. Whatever they do- is more than what they had to- so they can't disappoint. Generally speaking, I will say I've seen some disappointing volunteers- but I am not one to over-committ myself.
So I guess I need to write my book, be the next JK Rowling (who am I kidding?) or something- fix this situation so that I can volunteer and garden for the hell of it- not for money- and not so someone can count my hours.
Surely there is a place for me- a place where I do not have to worry about bringing in enough money for the family, a place where I don't have to feel guilty about the fact that my intolerance of job bullshit is what's keeping me from a good ol' government job 40 hours a week that would pay for some health insurance, as opposed to the church insurance that spits on our medical bills and hopes their saliva might bring the numbers down a bit.
All of us intolerant ones- unite, we may be poor- but we have our integrity.
ha.
There are some things in my life right now that seem just a bit off, odd, or - well- obligatory. I love my job, I'll say that before I complain. What I don't love is job bullshit. Every work place has it- mine is considerably less inundated with it than the average "office space" corporation. Church work comes with its own species of bullshit, and I'm skilled at avoiding it, but every now and then- it bites me in the butt.
I have recently had a triangulating conversation and email about how I've kept track of my hours for the 2 years I've been working at this church. I won't go into the nitty gritty details, but let's just say person A told me person B doesn't like how I've been doing it- and so they're going to go and retroactively calculate my leave time according to their new method- 2 years into the process. I call this bullshit. And I'm going to talk to person B who should have talked to me to begin with - and politely explain my bullshit theory.
All that to say- I hate working for money. I am actually serious. I would much rather have some sort of income not dependant on my job/etc- say- be independantly wealthy- and then volunteer. You see volunteers always are good. Whatever they do- is more than what they had to- so they can't disappoint. Generally speaking, I will say I've seen some disappointing volunteers- but I am not one to over-committ myself.
So I guess I need to write my book, be the next JK Rowling (who am I kidding?) or something- fix this situation so that I can volunteer and garden for the hell of it- not for money- and not so someone can count my hours.
Surely there is a place for me- a place where I do not have to worry about bringing in enough money for the family, a place where I don't have to feel guilty about the fact that my intolerance of job bullshit is what's keeping me from a good ol' government job 40 hours a week that would pay for some health insurance, as opposed to the church insurance that spits on our medical bills and hopes their saliva might bring the numbers down a bit.
All of us intolerant ones- unite, we may be poor- but we have our integrity.
ha.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Working from Home
I'm about to leave work (yes, I'm currently very productive at work), to go "work from home." Now this is a fuzzy phrase. It means "I'm not getting anything done here, so I may as well go home and fake it there." The hilarious concept that I might actually get MORE work done at home is.... well- um- hilarious.
Anyway. I truly believe it this time though, the flourescent lights, harsh desk, flow of irrelevant emails and guilt-trips every time I find one I accidentally ignored- are way too much for this easily distracted person. I don't have ADD- I think it's more the ability to completely forget what one was doing only two seconds before. I have.... dementia? Sometimes I think I do. More on that later.
As I'm here at work, I'm blogging, counting how many hours I've worked, working out my New Year's resolution, working out creative ways to trick the church into being more energy efficient, and making all social plans for 2008. So far- all those things are going well. What I need to be doing is calling people, copying random things, calling people, and calling people. That's about it. Oh and organizing my files. So I can call more people (with better information). I really love my job: Coordinator of Congregational Care. It is perfect for me- but sometimes I feel like a kid with every finger stuck in a different piece of candy.... which to eat first? By the time I'm on the 10th candy, I forget candy #1 needs more attention, then I discover I have candy in my pockets, too!
weird analogy.
So- I'm going home. To get more done.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Anyway. I truly believe it this time though, the flourescent lights, harsh desk, flow of irrelevant emails and guilt-trips every time I find one I accidentally ignored- are way too much for this easily distracted person. I don't have ADD- I think it's more the ability to completely forget what one was doing only two seconds before. I have.... dementia? Sometimes I think I do. More on that later.
As I'm here at work, I'm blogging, counting how many hours I've worked, working out my New Year's resolution, working out creative ways to trick the church into being more energy efficient, and making all social plans for 2008. So far- all those things are going well. What I need to be doing is calling people, copying random things, calling people, and calling people. That's about it. Oh and organizing my files. So I can call more people (with better information). I really love my job: Coordinator of Congregational Care. It is perfect for me- but sometimes I feel like a kid with every finger stuck in a different piece of candy.... which to eat first? By the time I'm on the 10th candy, I forget candy #1 needs more attention, then I discover I have candy in my pockets, too!
weird analogy.
So- I'm going home. To get more done.
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Monday, December 17, 2007
"Live simply so that others may simply live"
I can't remember where this quote first originates from- but it has been haunting me. Especially in this Christmas season when I find myself turning into a little green giant, craving new clothes, new gadgets, new something to put somewhere and feel pretty.
The part of me that hasn't turned green is more of a bluish-pink color. I'm ashamed and sad that I cannot live up to this calling of simplicity. I guess it is a calling. It's almost an innate need. I feel my soul getting excited about less clutter and less items and less less less to worry about in my life. The problem is: I love decorating. I love looking nice. I love antiques. I feel like just simplifying in certain areas is not really enough. I have NO idea how to start this process of purging myself and my environment of what feels like toxic distractions. I know that I would be happy if I had simplicity- and I would be on the right "path" toward how I want to live in this world. I would be able to be "green" in the right way, blue with serenity, and rosy with hard work.
And don't get me started on the other end of that phrase: "so others may simply live." It sounds so judgmental! Almost like- well- if you'll move a half and inch so I may simply sit, that would be lovely. It's the kind of language my Grandmother uses when she is politely guilt-tripping you. She does it so skillfully, I don't think she even realizes what she's doing. "Oh, I don't want to bother you, I know you are so busy, but it is just so good to even hear your voice. Hopefully you'll have time to come see me sometime. But I don't want to bother you!"
wrenching guilt.
But, that's not why I want to live simply. Not guilt... a calling, a need, a revolutionizing of what it means to "live." What are my standards of living? How do I fight the vacuum of prestige, sucking me into normalcy with trinkets and class? I also like dishes. How many dishes do I need? Apparently, enough to have a 15 person party in every season (seasonal dishes are a need of course).
Help! I am in the bottom, near the drain of a powerful whirlpool, getting sucked through the little holes of classes- if I fit in the right ones- I've become a real woman with real china and a knack for entertaining! I don't want to entertain, I want to welcome. Where do I draw the line?
Oh, and my husband is inflicted with the same green disease. Is there hope for either of us?
Lord- help me live simply so that others may even thrive!
The part of me that hasn't turned green is more of a bluish-pink color. I'm ashamed and sad that I cannot live up to this calling of simplicity. I guess it is a calling. It's almost an innate need. I feel my soul getting excited about less clutter and less items and less less less to worry about in my life. The problem is: I love decorating. I love looking nice. I love antiques. I feel like just simplifying in certain areas is not really enough. I have NO idea how to start this process of purging myself and my environment of what feels like toxic distractions. I know that I would be happy if I had simplicity- and I would be on the right "path" toward how I want to live in this world. I would be able to be "green" in the right way, blue with serenity, and rosy with hard work.
And don't get me started on the other end of that phrase: "so others may simply live." It sounds so judgmental! Almost like- well- if you'll move a half and inch so I may simply sit, that would be lovely. It's the kind of language my Grandmother uses when she is politely guilt-tripping you. She does it so skillfully, I don't think she even realizes what she's doing. "Oh, I don't want to bother you, I know you are so busy, but it is just so good to even hear your voice. Hopefully you'll have time to come see me sometime. But I don't want to bother you!"
wrenching guilt.
But, that's not why I want to live simply. Not guilt... a calling, a need, a revolutionizing of what it means to "live." What are my standards of living? How do I fight the vacuum of prestige, sucking me into normalcy with trinkets and class? I also like dishes. How many dishes do I need? Apparently, enough to have a 15 person party in every season (seasonal dishes are a need of course).
Help! I am in the bottom, near the drain of a powerful whirlpool, getting sucked through the little holes of classes- if I fit in the right ones- I've become a real woman with real china and a knack for entertaining! I don't want to entertain, I want to welcome. Where do I draw the line?
Oh, and my husband is inflicted with the same green disease. Is there hope for either of us?
Lord- help me live simply so that others may even thrive!
Monday, December 10, 2007
The Wrongest Thing to Do
I just wrote an entire entry on the things that bug me about me. You know when you are in a funk and people tell you to think positively or count your blessings? I think it's a grand idea, but I rarely do it. So I wrote a whole blog on the bad things. I was doing some funky control all to copy and put it somewhere else (a little depressing for a first blog entry) and it disappeared.
So that's nice. All the things that bug me about me are gone. And now I'm going to bed. -but with a promise.... maybe I should say a hope- that I will be writing in this more. All my friends are blogging as a way to keep people in touch. I guess I could do that. So I'll try if people really care to read what I write.
Ok- so coming soon- writing.... about.... me?
-Sarah
So that's nice. All the things that bug me about me are gone. And now I'm going to bed. -but with a promise.... maybe I should say a hope- that I will be writing in this more. All my friends are blogging as a way to keep people in touch. I guess I could do that. So I'll try if people really care to read what I write.
Ok- so coming soon- writing.... about.... me?
-Sarah
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