self-absorption

I’m beginning to feel the lining of my money-less pockets. First it was the bridesmaid’s skirt, then a few fancy meals, the gym and trainer, and all those freakin’ doctor’s appointments. I have three appointments next week:

• My second at the eye doctor’s. (I’m doing a happy little dance about getting contacts, but my astigmatisms make the little things bloody expensive.)
• My third at the dentist. (This inlay better look damn good for all the money insurance won’t cover on it.)
• My first at the oral surgeon. (It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer.)

I have a fear of cancer. Most people, especially most people in my family, die from some sort of cancer. The exception would be my dad, who lived through it. So I’m a wee bit paranoid. (My roomie would say I’m much more than a wee bit, but this isn’t her blog, so that doesn’t much matter.)

Another addition to my fear: Carla, the woman who gave me my first editorial internship, died from cancer that began under her tongue. And I have this white bump under my tongue.

You’d think all of this would be reason for me to get to the oral surgeon right away to have him remove it, check it out, and relieve my fears. But I’ve been avoiding this for almost a year. I’ve been afraid. It’s most likely nothing, and that’s exactly what I’ve persuaded myself. If it’s nothing, it’s not that important to deal with it right now. I can ignore it. I can pretend it doesn’t exist. I can pretend that I’m OK and not fearful.

But at least I’m doing it now. I can’t live my life as a chicken. (Chicken isn’t one of my favorite meats anyway.) So I’ve made the appointment. And I’ve done something else I was afraid of: I joined a gym.

My avoidance of gyms was another irrational fear of mine. Outside of the money, I avoided the things because I didn’t think I deserved to be there. Yes, crazy, I know. But I thought my fatness would be conspicuous among all that muscle and leanness. And I still hold on to this feeling that I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve to be anything but the fat girl, which is sick, I know. I’m working on it.

Surprisingly, the gym fee wasn’t a huge financial burden. (The trainer on the other hand…) And the only time I feel a bit conspicuous is when I cross to the far side of the gym where the free weights are. As I’m using my little 5- and 8-pound weights, I get a few glances reflected in the mirror from guys with 50- and 80-pound weights. One of these days I will get over caring what complete strangers think of me. It’s really quite self-absorbed of me. Although, what is this blog, if not a platform for me to get attention from you, my readers?

damnit, i know the ending!

So apparently, 96.5 The Buzz gave out the ending of Harry Potter on the air. This kid was so upset that he's staging a protest. A co-worker of mine sent me a link to the Buzz's Web site where they provide a picture of the kid with a lightning bolt on his forehead and a link to his protest site. She sent it to me because it was funny. But underneath it GAVE AWAY THE FREAKIN' ENDING. I know who dies. I know who killed him. And I haven't even opened the book yet. And let me tell you, this is important, this is big, this really will change the way I read the book. They mystery is gone. And my co-worker feels really bad about it. (Don't feel bad; I'll live, somehow, through this tragedy.)

On an up note: I sidestepped my managing editor about paying for my dues to this editing association I'm involved with and went straight to my editorial director. He gave the OK to reimburse me for the whole thing. Yay! It was the same co-worker's idea to talk to my editorial director about it. So I guess I'm still on speaking terms with her. ;)

Damnit, I still know. I haven't forgotten.

I was hoping that, by thinking and writing about something else, that I could purge my mind of the knowledge. Foolish, yes, but still worth a try.

wine and cheese

I just got back from a wine and cheese party downstairs. The wine helped loosen a few nerves that got tightened throughout the day.

I've been busy today. Lots to get done before our assistant editor takes vacation for her wedding and honeymoon.

Oh, and I finished the baby blanket over my lunch break, just in time for the baby shower after work today. I'm a bit nervous about going back to that place.

But today has also been full of compliments. Compliments on my blanket. Compliments on my embroidered jeans from Singapore. I love it when strangers give compliments. Must remember to do that myself more often.

Sorry for the randomness. With two glasses of wine in me, my main concern is simply spelling all these words correctly.

Cheers!

numb

The lower right side of my jaw was numb yesterday after a trip to the dentist. At dinner, I realized I was biting my lip as well as my food.

“I think I bit my lip. Does it look OK?” I asked my roomie.
“Um, it’s bleeding,” she replied.

And that was just the beginning. I tried chewing with my mouth open, lips pushed out as far as I could. Still problems, and I felt like a cow chewing her cud.

I ended up just holding my bottom lip down while I ate. But this method wouldn’t work for my drink. My roomie laughed every time I took a sip and some of it splurted back out.

My bottom lip's swollen today. And I have a bruise, too. If your mouth is ever numb and itches, don't try to itch it. It's impossible to know how forceful you're being.

And since this is only a temporary filling, I’ll be in the same fix two weeks from now when I go back to the dentist to get the real thing.

gee, i hate communicating

I just sent the hardest e-mail of my life today. To the person I sent it to: I'm sorry.

The G-man says that some girls enjoy sending such letters. I am disgusted by such girls. But, sometimes, I'm disgusted by my own actions. I fear that I sometimes lead guys on because I don't tell them straight out that it's not going to happen. I fear they'll ask me why. Sometimes it's because I'm not interested, and that's hard to say. Sometimes it's because I'm afraid, overwhelmed, and embarrassed, and that's hard to admit, especially to myself.

i am livid

I called up the associate editor at my old job to ask her about tear sheets. (For those not in the biz, tear sheets are simply pages from the magazine. You commonly get tear sheets of articles you wrote, designed art for, were a source for, etc.

Before I left, I had written enough material for one department through the September issue. So, I should have gotten tear sheets for June and July. I hadn’t. The associated editor no longer handles tear sheets. That job was handed off to Replacement. And no wonder she didn’t think to send me tear sheets. MY BYLINE HAD BEEN LEFT OFF OF THE DEPARTMENT IN BOTH MONTHS. In June there was no byline at all. In July there sat Replacement’s byline on my work. (The material in June was 100 percent mine. The material in July was mostly mine, with an addition by a former intern and Replacement.)

I was hurt. I felt dismissed. Yes, I know, you all wonder why I should even care. But I do. I feel like the byline was ignored to try to wipe me from the magazine’s memory. But in doing so, the editor also cheated a former intern who worked with me on those pieces and who should have also shared the byline. And that intern needs those tear sheets for his portfolio much more than I do.

And surprisingly, I’m disappointed in my former boss. I expected more respect from her, at least publicly, than this. And I guess I’m a little hurt that my friends on the staff didn’t notice or make an effort to attribute the work correctly.

Grrr.

the new, old girl

So, over the past few weeks I’ve been listening to JB, the senior managing editor of three publications, talking on the phone about potential assistant editors for his magazines. (The back wall of my cubicle meets the back wall of his.) Yesterday, I heard they’d made a decision. He commented on the salary she wanted and the salary they offered. (My mouth dropped. It’s much, much more than I made as an assistant editor.)

Today, I was talking with the publications’ managing editor. She said I knew the new hire. She was a long-time custom communications intern from my old work. She was the one who gave me the dragonflies that I have on my cubicle wall. I’m happy. She’s a nice girl. She does good work. And a familiar face will be welcome.

My big question: Why did she leave the PR place she’d taken a job with? I’m so nosey.

And I’m trying to resist the urge to call two of my former co-workers and tell them how much she’ll be making. They deserve more than what they get. I feel bad. As much as I loved my old job and the people I worked with, the company terribly underpays its workers, at least at the lower levels. I’m amazed at how little they pay.

And listening to JB talking about salaries has me wondering about how the pay scales differ depending on the magazine and the position. For another position, JB was quoting a salary level that I thought was OK, but not impressive. But this assistant editor salary is impressive. If I were making this salary as an assistant editor at my last job, I’d probably have tried to work things out with my boss. Amazing how a little bit more money can encourage delusions and keep one from seeing the light.

the sudoku challenge

My newest addiction: SuDoku. It's like a crossword puzzle with the numbers one through nine. Each row, each column, and each three-by-three box uses each number only once.

I spent the last half of my afternoon trying to conquer the first SuDoku published in USA Today. I was close, but I couldn't figure it out. I'm currently sticking to the easy puzzles.

I use my time so wisely.

tired

Scratched Eye
Originally uploaded by theCallowQueen.

I woke up late this morning. Didn't feel really great. My eyes feel dry, scratchy, and tired.

I've felt tired lately, emotionally tired. There's something I'm looking for, something I want that I'm not finding. And I'm tired, tired of searching, tired of not getting, tired of feeling petty and selfish for wanting more than all that I've already been blessed with.

the sick life

Back to work today. I forgot my decongestant at home. I guess my co-workers will just have to deal with my musical nose today. I haven't really talked with anyone in a while so here's a rough update since my last post.

WEDNESDAY: Made brownies.

THURSDAY: Took brownies to work for co-worker’s birthday.

FRIDAY: We got doughnuts and bagels that morning at work. It was also Free Pop Friday. And we got to leave at 1 pm. What a treat. I went with a former co-worker and her former roommate to see the Get Up Kids perform their next-to-last show at the Granada in Lawrence. It was good. My feet hurt from all the standing. And it was fun to see my cousin up on stage.

SATURDAY: Two of Big-Bold-D’s friends tried to take us to Dunn’s Cider Mill in Belton for lunch. It was closed. Sigh. We ended up eating at a good BBQ place, though. That evening I went with my roomie and her littlest sis to Zona Rosa, an outdoor shopping area off of Barry Rd. I’d never been out there before. We ended up eating at an Italian place called Bravo, which, I found out, is run by the same people who own Brio on the Plaza. My roomie and I forgot our leftovers. Sigh. But the ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery made up for it. Then we went to see Bewitched, which ended up being more entertaining than I expected.

SUNDAY: That former co-worker’s former roommate had her birthday party that evening. Vodka slushies are yummy but dangerous. I bruised my ego there and am still recovering. Sitting on her couch, I felt my throat getting sore.

MONDAY: My dad’s birthday. I’m sick. My throat’s swollen. I spend the day with my parents. I go home early. I go to bed early. I listen to the boom of fireworks, unable to sleep.

TUESDAY: I’m sick. Lots of TV watching. A little reading.

WEDNESDAY: It’s Tuesday, repeated.

THURSDAY: Woke up to news of the London bombings. Felt sick. Back at work. Congested.