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Another day, another... meal?

Apparently we're not hearing back from the mortgage company today. Which isn't so great, because tomorrow we're going to Chinatown with a bunch of friends and won't be home. I'm really looking forward to going to Chinatown. I can get another medicine cup, since my last one broke, and make myself and the family medicinal teas. (They TASTE medicinal, too! But they work.) We can get a teapot, which we haven't had since the last one broke from overuse. I MIGHT be able to get sushi. (I love sushi. If I could eat it every day, especiall in the summer, I would. Happily. I even learned how to make some very basic sushi.) And we can hang out with our friends, who are usually very busy and don't have time to hang out at all, with anyone. I just hope I have enough energy to walk around. It's not a huge area, not like NYC's Chinatown, but it's kind of spread out oddly over a few blocks. Today I had my first bout of "morning" sickness so far this pregnancy. Oh, joy. It didn't help that I didn't get QUITE enough sleep, or that a friend called whose boyfriend I used to consider a friend. I sympathize with her completely, and I'm not sure I can be friends with someone who lies so constantly to himself and to everyone else. But I won't get into their issues... it's neither here nor there, and would take far more explaining than I care to do at the moment. But it added some stress. Then my son came home with a letter from the principal, his second time of seeing the principal this school year. Apparently, despite the long talk we had yesterday about responsibility and developing good habits, he got out of his seat at lunch without permission and ignored one of the lunch aides. And this happened more than once. Honestly, I cannot deal with that, plus my stress and tiredness and depression. Fortunately, I have the bestest husband I could ever have. He's not perfect, but he's as close to perfect for me as anyone I've ever met or even heard of. He knows I'm ground down to nearly nothing, emotionally, and he took charge, made new rules, and meted out the punishment. I am immensely grateful to him, if that wasn't obvious already. My husband then did the dishes, and I started dinner. I also had some miso soup someone sent me in a care package. I have no idea how they knew or guessed that I absolutely love miso soup, but I do. It's a comfort food, but it's actually not bad for me. We're planning to see if we can get some more packets, maybe tomorrow in Chinatown. I'll probably go to bed early tonight. My sleep schedule is beyond wonky, and last I heard, the plan was to leave for Chinatown around 11 am.

January 27, 2007

Perhaps.

I am so tired of people lying to themselves and others over silly, petty little things. Someone mentioned that you can post in the "how are you feeling" thread and pretty much always get support, but it's rather amusing to me that my experience is almost the exact opposite. I have to be extremely melodramatic to even get noticed, and my offers of support, and those of my friends, tend to get ignored. I know it's a big forum, with lots of people, but if only two of those people have responded in any way to your post, is it not simple courtesy to respond to them BOTH? I am not picking on anyone in particular here. This is something I have noticed over a span of time. And to use examples of my own, which is all I feel I can ethically do, I posted in that thread that I felt "Distant". One word. Ok, easy to miss, I guess. I got no responses at all. Then a few hours later I posted "Discouraged, alone, depressed, and invisible." Direct quote. To that, I got three responses. It just seems like there are certain people who get more attention in that thread, and on the board as a whole, than others. I understand that people have cliques and all, but it seems odd to me that despite the reality of this, people seem to think that everyone's treated equally. I have been having some very serious emotional problems, to the tune of semi-regular breakdowns. These do not look to be ending any time soon unless I can get back on my anti-depressants, which I was wisely taken off of when my regular doctor found out I was pregnant. The obstetrician has more knowledge of these things. Until then, however, I tend to devolve into a sobbing mess roughly every three to four weeks. But because I choose not to tell approximately 6000 people every detail of my life, because I assume (probably rightly) that it will bore them, because I choose to mention only the barest details when it is the worst, I get shoved to the back while those who choose to make their lives public to the last detail, they get what appears to be 100% support, although in many cases, it is not. Perhaps I'm being petty. Perhaps it's the hormones talking. Or perhaps, just perhaps, I get tired of seeing myself and my friends, who really could use a few encouraging words now and again, to whom knowing that we've inspired kind feelings in someone we've never met would make a huge difference, shoved to the back of the "room" and ignored in favor of those who prefer their lives to be full of great drama, whether acknowledged conciously or not. Perhaps it's something to think about. And perhaps five people will read this. I know my blog is not as widely followed as some, and five is the upper limit of my expectations. But then, I suppose since we as a society focus on those who provide drama, it shouldn't be so surprising that the same thing would happen in our private lives. Or perhaps I'm just an idealist.

January 26, 2007

Serving up Sexy with a Slice o' Surreal

Snarky would like to submit for the record that she is wearing a skirt to work today. This is a rare occasion and had to be noted: -knee high black Ecco boots (semi-sexy, mostly sensible) -pink and white striped knee high socks -gray flannel pin-striped long skirt (purchased from a punk store in downtown Asheville) that causes Snarky to walk like Morticia Addams -black stretch button down Banana Republic shirt -light pink railroad/ribbon yarn (inkdarkmoon: think Knitting Fever's Dazzle or somesuch) neck... thingy. It's a really skinny scarf that looks more like a deconstructed cravat -fuschia shrinky dink skulls earrings from Sweet Action Lab -red lip stain under sparkly lip gloss -Bearded Lady There. Tonight she and The Mister are going on a double date with their real estate agent and his wife. He's a pretty interesting guy, though the wife is a bit of a cipher still. They are going to see Inland Empire again because Mr. RealEstateAgent is a huge, huge David Lynch fan... which is very disconcerting for the Snarks. Lynch is a hard artist to pin down, but whatever anyone might think of when picturing a Lynch afficionado, Mr. REA is the exact opposite (or possibly dead on. It's really hard to tell.).

Fishnets and Frankincense

January 25, 2007

'80's video nostalgia

Thanks to YouTube, I can now find 1980's music videos to see if they were as good as I recalled. I always loved this one. In fact, it drove me crazy. And it still does! (Sorry for the primitive link, my operating system here at work doesn't let me use the link function.) BTW, while this video aired at all hours of the day on MTV, I don't consider it entirely work-safe if your screen is exposed to interlopers. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjYuPAC6-lo

valentina

January 25, 2007

Wow... 6 weeks already?

Ever since I found out I was pregnant, I'd figured on a due date around mid-September. After all, that's when my son was born, and I'd found out he was on his way around the same time. However, I seem to be a little shaky on my counting-backwards skills. I had assumed I was about 3 or 4 weeks along, at most. Out of curiousity, though, last night I was tooling around the web and found a baby site, and was reading. Naturally, it had a due-date predictor. I plugged in the information requested, and got back mid-September as a due date. Ok, no surprise there. But it also said that I'm now 6 weeks along. I was not expecting THAT. I mean, it makes sense, but for some reason, my brain is still boggling. Still, I guess that's good. It doesn't really change anything except in my head, so it's really neither good nor bad. I also found out that I may be able (even encouraged) to get back on my antidepressants. That means I'll be able to sleep! And not be so cranky! And that will be good for all concerned.

January 25, 2007

Do you have a flag?

University-related question.

Here's a strange question for you. What do you do when you realize that your professor is giving wrong answers in class? Last quarter I had a 300-level anatomy class. This quarter I have a 100-level physiology class. This is the first time this professor has taught at Northwestern -- usually she teaches at a community college. Last week she mis-identified a bone on her own lecture slide as a humerus when it was very clearly a femur. She sort of hemmed and hawed over it for a couple of seconds and then said humerus. So it wasn't just an oral typo. Last night she spelled the muscle sternocleidomastoid wrong on her lecture slide, and then she mispronounced it as well. But the real kicker was that she had it up there as an example of how muscles are sometimes named based on their points of insertion. She said this muscle is named for its three insertion points: the sternum, the clavicle [both true] and... "mastication, which is chewing, which means it goes into your neck." Ummm... no. It's attached to the mastoid process, which is a piece of the temporal bone of the skull that sticks down behind your ear. I realize she may need to simplify some explanations because it's a 100-level class, but simplify does not mean the same thing as "tell students the wrong answer." When a student asked her what the difference was between "extends the thigh" and "extends the leg" when we were talking about different muscle functions, she didn't know the answer. Our anatomy professor beat us over the head with learning to call the upper part of the lower limb the "thigh" and the lower part of the lower limb the "leg." She told us specifically not to call the whole lower limb the "leg" because that was anatomically incorrect. So why did my physiology professor not know that? I don't know what to do here. I paid full Northwestern tuition for this class, and this is the first time at Northwestern that I felt like I was getting a crappy education for my money. All my other Northwestern professors have been stellar. Should I go to the dean? Should I ask my advisor what I should do? I've never been in this situation before and I don't know how to approach this.

filigree_shadow

January 24, 2007

Soccer Mom Fetish?

Over time, Snarky has learned to appreciate the value of Name Brand Things - not always (she still just can't get the whole Louis Vuitton thing) but more often than not. When she does purchase things these days, they feel more like investments. (Even if said investments are happening at the Goodwill.) She would rather have the one good pair of Danskos rather than a closet full of Payless ripoffs. It came as a bit of a shock to her a few years ago to discover that the straight legged jeans from Eddie Bauer were the best fit for her body (which she lovingly refers to as "the curvy rectangle": slight dip at the waist in a long torso over short, muscular thighs and calves). Snarky always thought of Eddie Bauer as The Gap for soccer moms. In other words: better than Wal-Mart, but not North Face/Patagonia/whatever the heck posh soccer moms wear. What came as an even bigger shock is that a sweater she purchased from the EB factory outlet last year (deep red boxy cabled cardigan) provoked a rather interesting response from The Mister. He made a point several times to comment that he really liked the sweater, and liked Snarky wearing it. Sometimes the commentary came in tactile form. Snarky could not pinpoint exactly what it was about this shapeless sweater that was pushing all the right buttons for The Mister, but she is now determined to figure it out.

January 24, 2007

Sourball Ho!

Quickies

--Ack, I was bumped to the 2nd page of blogs! This means that 1) I'm not updating enough, and 2) there are lots of other people updating! I'm glad to see people joining us on Blog Island (TM Antimony) --As to my previous post, this collection agency has obviously been carpet-bombing people across the country with demand notices for phantom amounts. Lots of complaints posted on ripoffreport.com and complaintsboard.com. I filed a complaint with the FTC online, and since I demanded proof of the debt I'll hopefully never hear from this company again --We went to World Market on Sunday to spend some gift cards. I love being able to walk through that store and grab anything that looks interesting without having to spend cash. We got a couple bottles of wine, some beer made by Trappist monks, shortbread cookies, Irish oatmeal, mushroom & wine pate, pasta sauce, a bunch of incense, a big candle, and some replacement forks. Rats, I listed all this and now I'm hongry! (TM darkitysnark) --I definitely read everyone's blogs, even though I don't comment most of the time. We have a great bunch here

dawndie

January 24, 2007

Of Mermaids and Girlie-Girls

Last week's surprise winter weather has given way to premature spring-like conditions. And like a tender crocus bud, Snarky finds her own femininity peeking out from all the protective layers of winter accumulation. Last night she trimmed back the talons and attended to her toes. Tonight she hopes to complete the rest of her home mani/pedi progression (Snarky is slow and less flexible than she once was. It takes at least two days to finish these simple tasks.) and this weekend might be the Wacky Waxing Weekend if she can get her gumption up. This seems to be the prevailing mood on Blog Island. A mood of rejuvenation and re-introduction to one's inner girlie-girl. Snarky has lost track of what this particular movement happens to be... is it post-post-modern feminism, or meta-feminism, or retro-something-or-other? Ah well. Whatever it is, it makes typing on the keyboard much easier. Edited to add: while ChezSnark is still slightly under the pall of the Monster Cold of Ought Six Slash Seven, Snarky has finally started to wear her BPAL again. Banner day!

January 23, 2007

WHY am I awake?

*sighs* I went to bed at 9:30. This was early for me, but I was sleepy, and I didn't actually sleep until about 11. I woke up again at 2:30, and for 3 hours, I haven't been able to get back to sleep. This happened yesterday, too. I went to bed around 3:30 (normal for me) and couldn't sleep until 8. I am frustrated. (And hungry again, but I don't think that has anything to do with it... my tummy's not growling.) I wish I could take something to help me sleep, but that's not a good idea. Tea didn't work, trying to bore myself to sleep didn't work, and I can't think of anything else. ARGH.

Fishnets and Frankincense

January 23, 2007

Fishnets, quiet time and George Clooney

I was out trying to buy a pair of black tights yesterday and couldn't find them where I was shopping (sold out, I guess), so I bought a pair of black fishnet tights. Practical, huh? No, she never did believe in having the big wedding with the while lace gown, but by god, let's get fishnet stockings because they're there. I think I might wear them tomorrow. I have this retro-style black skirt that begs for a pair of fishnets. Everything else will be black and white and muted, and the fishnets will be the wee little touch. Well, probably more than a wee little touch, maybe a serious jab in the ribs, but who cares... I'm a fiscal analyst, for hell's sake, no one expects it. It messes them up. You know, people ask me to go to lunch with them (as did the lobbyist a couple of weeks ago), and I really don't like to go to lunch with other people. It's one of my least-favorite things to do on my lunch hour. I would so prefer to go to my nice little bohemian coffeehouse hang-out and get an hour of quiet time before I re-enter the fray. My inner introvert needs to be cared and nurtured, especially when my workplace is a zoo. I know going to lunch is "networking," but gah, most of the time it's just bullshitting while you feed your face. It wears me out. I suppose if I didn't wear fishnet stockings, people might not be so inclined to try to figure out what the hell I was all about, but I can't let go of all of my personality for the sake of being left alone. I told someone not that long ago that I'd probably dress like a churchmouse this year during the session, and I guess I lied. Actually, I was being a bit sardonic when I said that, but I think they believed me. And why is it, when the legislative session starts, several of my close acquaintances get needy? As in, really needy? I won't bore you with the stories, but it happens EVERY damn year -- the session starts and they start calling me or emailing me a lot or even stopping in my office to see if I have time to listen to godknowswhat. And it always starts with "I know you're busy, but..." The "but" should be followed with "I WANT ATTENTION! AND I WANT IT NOW!!!" It's not -- it's followed with whatever semi-crisis or love affair they want to tell me about in utmost detail. Gracious. My friend and coworker Scott suggested I hang up a sign that says: "I AM NOT the wailing wall." I am not a callous bitch. If it were a bona fide emergency or major life event, I'm there for people. But their annual job review that always goes well, or the new girlfriend, or generally noodling around about your philosophy of life are not emergencies. In a total non sequitur, I had a dream Sunday morning that I'd given birth to a baby but I'd forgotten about it and gone off to a marching band rehearsal. Then I remembered: George Clooney was the dad! I'd go over to the dream interpretation thread on the forum and ask them what they hell they thought that meant, but I think I'd be booed off!

valentina

January 23, 2007

Is Anybody Out There?

Sacred Memories

I don't know how else to describe these things. I've begun collecting these moments in time where I felt an otherworldly calm, or where I felt something fundamental inside me change. During a period of exceptionally dark depression, sobbing on the phone with my friend Shari (who lives across the country from me) as she frantically looks for a Star of David her grandfather gave her, and then listening to her recite, in Hebrew, the prayer for that day of Hannukah. In the same mindset and a similar timeframe, being curled up in bed on a trip out of town to visit some friends, unable to go out and socialize, and my friend Stacy coming in and playing her guitar and singing to me. She has a beautiful voice, and I wish I had a recording of something her band has done. Flying into Knoxville after an all night flight across the states and seeing my husband for the first time. Realizing that we were not just going to patch each other up and then move on, and trusting that he felt the same way also happened in that general period of time. Staying up and talking with my brother in law about how much he loves my sister. (He is generally not overly expressive in that area.) There are more, but those first two really have a special place in my heart.

smallvoice

January 22, 2007

Birdsongs

Single again.

I mentioned in a couple of postings elsewhere that I've had a bad weekend. Friday night, instead of going to visit his grandmother as we had planned, my boyfriend & I had a big discussion of issues - things that had been bothering him, things that been getting to me (like the control thing in my last blog). We came to the conclusion we should break up, then started crying & went to sleep next to each other. Then the next day we sort of retreated, & I said maybe we could work on things, & he said to give him time to think, & went out with his friends while I surfed online all night, making sad posts. He didn't get home before I left for work the next day, & when I got home, he said he'd been thinking, & confessed that he had feelings for someone he had asked out before we'd started dating, but she was too young then. His crush never went away, & she apparently has a thing for him, even though she's seeing someone else. He didn't name her, but I knew right away who he meant. And I can't even get angry at him (yet) because she's beautiful & thoughtful & musical & fun. So I said, well, we could work on other things but I can't do anything about that. So that's it. I'll need to start the long process of separating our stuff soon, but today I am still on autopilot & feeling numb. I think he's confused too - just now he called from work to make sure I was okay, & seemed to want to talk. (I've been in the habit of making a little ten-minute call every day on my break.) Last time someone broke up with me (my first boyfriend - we dated for seven years), I was able to not see him for months & I was healed by the time I saw him next. But now, I'll have to move into the spare bedroom, which is still extremely full of all my brother's junk from when he took off & never came back to get anything. Our lease doesn't run out until June, & none of us (including my longtime roommate, who is now angry at both of us) has the money to break the lease & move out (it would involve huge fines). And I'll see J all the time. But he won't be mine anymore. And he'll want to talk, & make sure I'm not mad at him, & be friends right away. And I just want space to heal. Thank god for friends. My only plan last night was to get out of the house & call my friends S & S. And they were free, & we watched TV & talked, & took me out to a bar to celebrate another friend's birthday, & people bought me drinks & we chatted & smoked & they said they would hate J for me since I can't, & didn't mind when I cried on the table. Then I fell asleep on their couch & woke up with a kitten next to me. So begins life without J. At least without him being my J. I will use this time to see friends more & spend more time on my spirituality again & be a strong independent feminist-type grown-up who doestn't need to be needed & can wait for someone who loves her. And when the numbness wears off & I break down I will try my best to remember my new mission statement. Sorry for the length of this blog ... venting has been accomplished now.

spanishviolet

January 22, 2007

Claws are out! - Grumbling about Grooming

Snarky in Winter If she would just stop burning and cutting them and tried to moisturize every once in a while, Snarky would have a fairly pretty set of hands. Given care, they can be delicately expressive with long fingers and long, tapering nail beds. She inherited them from her father's side of the family. Her mother has always grumbled about her own "farmer's hands", but as the rest of her is delicate and expressive (she was a traditional Chinese dancer in college), her hands come across as such too. Snarky does not treat her hands well at all, though. They want to be long-nailed and idle... the hands of some pampered concubine. But she treats them like meat. On the rare occasion that she gets them "done", they become undone within a week's time. Nail polish barely lasts two days (even the good stuff). Her cuticles would break any aesthetician from sheer mental trauma. Currently Snarky is struggling with her suddenly long nails. They get caught in her keyboard (upon which her typing sounds like a puppy scrabbling across a hardwood floor). They mess up her ability to dial her cell phone. She has poked herself in the eye countless times. The Mister has been inadvertently scratched in very unsexy ways. So far, only the cats seem to enjoy these new accessories. Along with her enlongenating nails, Snarky is trying to re-learn how to handle longer hair. She is also doing what she playfully calls "Winterizing" - a sort of seasonal shortening of her personal grooming habits which allows her to sleep in a bit more, but which also makes winter The Mister's least favorite time of year. Apparently it's OK for him to have hairy legs year 'round, but she must remain pre-pubescent (at least in that one aspect.) She will make an exception for Valentine's Day, though, which brings much rejoicing to ChezSnark. Snarky really has a problem with the whole body hair issue, actually. She finds it yucky and gross in all practicality (tank tops, swim suits, shorts) but in principle wishes she could just let it all go. So this "Winterizing" thing is sort of her annual foray into protesting the unrealistic expectations set by the beauty industry and society in general. (She's also normally a waxer, not a shaver, so this is a bit of a reprieve from all the ouchiness.) Strange how laziness promotes old stereotypes (longer head hair and finger nails) whilst stomping like a giant hairy Sasquatch on others.

January 22, 2007

Gaidig's Blog

Scherezade

Imp #8: Scherezade "Saffron and Middle Eastern spices swirled through sensual red musk." Note: End of cycle. Imp fresh from the Lab. In the bottle: Definitely smells like insense. Do I detect the dreaded patchouli? Musky as well, I think. On me: I definitely get what I would define as a perfumey feel out of this. Perhaps that is the reaction I have to red musk. I can't seem to pick out individual notes. 1 hour+ later: I am catching the spices & I think I can identify the saffron, though it is not as bitter as the mehndi on my left hand. At this point, a few hours later, I have lost the throw, but I like the scent.

Gaidig

January 21, 2007

Argh.

The big news for today was that I went to a birthday party. Had fun, stayed for 3 hours, am now exhausted. Kitty told me I look dehydrated, and that I'm growing my water sac (which sounds really really gross), so I need to drink more water. And it's fairly obvious to me that /something's/ going on down there, because my "yay I lost weight" pants are now tight. Ugh. The only other pants I have to wear are the jeans that I can literally pull off without buttoning. Now I'm cold and tired. I think I will crash. Oh yeah, and we called the realtor back that called us twice yesterday. He said he'd call us back, and didn't. That, combined with the fact that his email to us of two sentences had several grammar errors, tells me we'll be going with another realtor.