need stressed

I have a theory that needy people tend to be stressed people.

Maybe I can get Big-Bold-D to work his math brain and come up with a proof for this.

hypocrisy

There are times that I feel like such a hypocrite.

The characteristic tends to show itself the most when I'm stressed. Wait, when am I not stressed?

always open

OK, so 24 Hour Fitness isn't open continuously; it does close up shop for a bit on major holidays. But other than that, the place is always brightly lit and open.

I arrive at the gym just before 5 a.m. this morning, and the place was dark. This not being a holiday, I was a bit confused by this. Then I saw someone leaving the building and watch someone else go in. Hmm.

Not wanting to have gotten up at the butt crack of dawn for nothing, I decided to see what was up. Inside, there was no one sitting at the front desk. A few people were scattered through the darkened gym working out. It was weird. In the dark, employeeless gym, it felt almost as if the gym members had broken into the place.

I looked to the glass windows that separate the gym from the pool. It looked pretty dark back there. And it was. The light from the sauna room was on though, so it cast a little light down the lanes of the pool. But the far end of the pool was pretty much dark as night.

I loved it. There was something calm and peaceful about it. All I was lacking was a night sky filled with stars.

My grandparents' pool was my second home during the summers. (And I mean that literally. I had this game where I'd hold my breath underwater while playing house and having a tea party with a friend.)

But the best time of day to swim was in the evening. I'd float on my back and watch the stars come out. I miss that.

superior children

OK, this post is from The Dilbert Blog. I read it the latest post this morning and it made me laugh. My parents were so proud of my school projects. The other kids' stuff was obviously inferior.

Open House: "I recently attended a school open house for the kids, ages 6 and 8. It was my first one and I didn’t know what to expect. The main point, as I learned, was for the kids to show their parents the projects they worked on during the year. The first thing I noticed was that our kids produced spectacular works of art whereas all the other kids produced utter crap.

I listened as the other parents heaped lavish praise on their little losers, despite the obvious low quality of the work. I worried that praising shoddy workmanship would cause the kids to stall in their development. Why would you improve when you’re already impressing the people that control your access to candy? That sort of thinking is where hobos come from, and it disturbed me to hear the little tykes getting such bad guidance.

Determined to set things right, I waited until one set of parents was distracted by the teacher. Their offspring stood in front of a wall of alleged art, admiring his work. I leaned over and whispered, “You call that a dog? It looks more like a squirrel that got caught in the lawnmower.”

Naturally he started crying. But I too cry when I learn. So I figured I was on the right track. I slipped out the side door before his parents could discover who had saved their son from a future of mediocrity. Call it humility if you will. I just like to help. I don’t need to get credit.

Okay, that didn’t really happen. How many of you believed I really said that?

the house saga continues

So what once seemed off may now be on.

I went with my parents to see a lawyer who proposed a very fair solution that I thought should be satisfactory to all.

I went with kcprogrammer to walk through the house again and sit and think. Could I see myself living here? Could I make this work? I think I could.

But there still seems to be at least one objector from the family. OK, objector is a bit harsh. Wrench thrower may be more accurate.

But I'm trying not to worry about it anymore. What happens happens. If it works out, I think this could be good for me. If it falls through, well, oh well.

Part of the push for this new philosophy in my life is the bad acid refux attack I had on Saturday. I missed the two weddings and the graduation party of the day. And got to take a ride to urgent care, care of kcprogrammer. It was the worst pain I've ever felt. The doctor says that I may be developing an ulcer. I need to cut down on my stress.

I wonder if that can wait until after this house thing has been resolved and after we replace the girl who just quit on my magazine.

i love not having

I love my apartment.
I love not having a yard to mow.
I love not having to pay for repairs.
I love not having to listen to dogs barking in neighbors’ backyards.
I love not having to commit to staying in one place long term.
I love not having a house. OK, well we all know that's not true.

But it doesn't look like this house-buying thing is going to happen. So, I'm back to my old two-year plan. And I'm back to the present, in which I live in an apartment and where I'd like to be content to live out at least another year and a half (if I stick with the plan).

And perhaps that's best. I'm young, and much can happen in a year and a half.

i'm a winner

I just found out that I was selected as a winner in a scholarship competition I entered. The scholarship pays for me to attend a national conference that I'd really wanted to go to (but feared was too expensive to persuade my boss to pay my way). I'm going to Chicago. WooHoo!

The other reasons why I feel like a winner:

• I was honored by the group of friends who gathered to celebrate my birthday with me on Saturday.
• I found a good, soft bed at a ridiculously cheap price. (Really, if you need a bed, go to Sleep World. And if you tell them that I sent you, we can split a discount.) And I slept the night through, which is such a treat for me. (And thanks to my family for the birthday checks that make this bed purchase even more affordable for me.)
  
• I had such a pleasant birthday and Mother's Day with my family (thanks, Dad, for the delicious meal at Longhorn) and with kcprogrammer's family.
• I cleaned my cubicle on Friday. And, today, one side of my desk is filled with birthday treats from co-workers. Oh, and I'm caught up on my work for the most part, which feels good. (Although, I see a rushed deadline on the horizon. Sigh.)
  
• I'm simply feeling happy. I think it's this solid sleep I'm getting. I sure hope it keeps up.

I'm feeling modivated, like I want to set out and accomplish something.

We should be taught not to wait for inspiration to start a thing. Action always generates inspiration. Inspiration seldom generates action.
—Frank Tibolt

update: birthday

So, my birthday is on Sunday (along with mother's day and my maternal grandmother's birthday). My friends are invited to come by Fred P. Otts on Saturday evening to celebrate with me.

I like this plan. People can stop by and then go when they please. And I don't have to be stressed about cleaning my apartment or the mess that will be left behind. And I can leave and go to bed when I please. It's a good thing, especially considering that I need to be bright and cheery for the next day's birthday-Mother's Day lunch.

Oh, and I found out that my family will be adding a new birthday to our calendars at the beginning of the next year. My cousin and his wife are having a baby. It's really quite exciting. The youngest in our family is 20, so we've been sans baby for quite some time.

This is the second oldest of the cousins (I'm the oldest). He's the first —— and so far only —— of us to get married. Now, he'll be the first to have kids.

He'll make a good dad. And his wife, I can see her being such a great mom. She has this amazing warmth and accepting patience with others.

I'm happy for them. (I just hope it doesn't put any ideas in my mom's head about how long she'll have to do without the title of Grandma. OK, it's just plain weird to think of my mom as a grandmother.)

And continuing on the baby note: Congrats also go out to my roomie's sister who we just found out is taking her second trip down to babytown.

update: bed

I haven't been sleeping well with my old mattress on the floor, so I decided the time had come to find a new one. The problem is that I like soft, and soft doesn't come cheap.

After much debating between a good deal on a really expensive bed (so now it's just expensive) and a extremely expensive bed (which will be more comfortable long term), I went to Mattress Firm to buy the cheaper one.

But the woman who was supposed to be holding it for me wasn't there. The guy who was said he couldn't find any evidence of a hold or even that mattress at that price.

Annoyed, I went back to pondering the wonderful, big-money sleep number bed. I'd almost decided to get it, when — at the suggestion of a co-worker who'd gotten her mattress at the same place —— I called for one last check.

I got the woman I'd worked with before. She had the mattress on hold for me still. The man I spoke with, it seams, treats his own customers right, but not hers. This isn't the first time that he couldn't find something that she had placed on hold. (I really didn't care to hear about their internal squabbles and politics, but at least my bed was still there.)

So, I had to redecide to recommit to buying this bed. I did, but not happily. I was kind of liking the excuse to go and buy the expensive mattress, and I didn't want the dream to die. But I agreed to buy the cheaper one. Then —— I love how rationalization works —— I figured that, if I still really wanted that sleep number bed in a few years, I could get it (because, hopefully, I won't be as strapped for cash) and make the other bed into a guest bed.

This solution automatically gave me a 75 percent level of contentment with my decision. I expect this number to fluctuate a bit over the next week or so, but to level out at about 80 percent.

Had I gone the other way, I could have rationalized myself to a similar contentment level with my decision to spend twice as much money. (In the long run it's cheaper to buy the terrificffic mattress now then to buy another that you'll only have to replace at an additional cost.)

update: house

My mom and I met with the house inspector today. I didn't get to stay for the whole thing, but what I heard wasn't all good.

The big bad: the electrical. The wiring is either really old or shoddily done new and is just spliced into the old 60-amp breaker (they were supposed to have put in a 100 amp). He seemed pretty concerned about that. As he looked in the breaker box, I think he might have thought it would start a fire right there, before his eyes.

Also with the electrical, only the kitchen has grounded three-pronged outlets. The rest is the old-fashioned, will-blow-out-your-electronics, two-pronged kind. The upgrade in the kitchen was supposed to include an upgrade to a 100-watt breaker, but it doesn't seem that the shoddy workmen actually did that. They also neglected to return to raise the outside electrical line to its proper 10-foot height. It hangs in a low diagonal across the backyard.

big thoughts, little girl

OK, this post is in response to Kat's comment on my last post. (Her comment: Sweetheart, WHAT is going on?!?)

I'm putting it here, because I want you all to know that all is fine.

I'm just a girl who suddenly found herself contemplating a big-girl issue. And thinking about herself as a big girl makes her think about all the ways in which she still feels very much like a little girl.

So, here's the deal: I'm considering buying a house. It's been in my two-year plan for about a year or so (but that home-owning date has always been a moving target, staying two years out of reach). Then last weekend, when I was still physically and emotionally drained from my conference trip, my mom called asking if I'd be interested in buying my grandma's house.

It may not happen, but even so, it got me thinking about where I'm at right now and where I want to be. It's a bit scary; I recommend not doing it.

don't, i'm tired

Liars share with those they deceive the desire not to be deceived.
——Sissela Bok

I am tired of being duped. I am tired of being lied to.
I am tired of forcing myself to be blind. I am tired of being lied to.
I am tired of hunting for the hidden truth. I am tired of being lied to.

Don't tell me it's good when it's mediocre.
Don't tell me I'm great when I'm just OK.
Don't tell me it's nothing when it's something.
Don't tell me what you think I want to hear.

Don't hold back. Don't make me the fool. Tell me the truth.

Tell me the truth, and I may, just may, do the same for you.

who cares?

I do.

Kcprogrammer says that I care too much about what others think of me. I know that's true. And it's a topic that's been in my thoughts frequently of late.

My argument: If I didn't try to figure out what others think, I wouldn't have any idea of what's going on?

Really, I'm clueless about the world around me. And sometimes, probably more often than I would like, I feel as if I must squeeze thoughts out of people or else remain in the dark, clueless and stupid.

My denial: I could blame it on others. But this isn't true because I find myself struggling in these situations over and over again.

My truth: I'm the one perpetuating this. I am making it difficult for information to reach me. Or maybe I know just as much as everyone else and just think everyone else knows more.

And why do I care? I care because I am horrible at detecting how someone is feeling or reacting to what I am doing. If you don't tell me, I don't know.

I am the one who is boisterous when other wishes for silence.
I am the one who keeps a conversation going long after the other wishes the topic were dead.

I am the one who wants approval that I'm doing it right because I doubt my own judgment.
I am the one who wants assurance that my presence is wanted.

And after writing the above, I am the one who is surprised why she didn't understand why she tends to become depressed when she spends an evening alone.

You may find this all rather pathetic. I find it rather selfish. Whenever one is unnecessarily dependent on another, it is a selfish act.

My solution: ?

Stop being a baby would be a good place to start. And trust people. I don't really trust others to tell me the truth. Not that I think everyone goes around lying. But, I wonder, how much is sugar coated for my benefit? On the reverse, how much to I manipulate the truth? And does that influence my doubts of truth from others? Oh, lets save those conversation morsels for another post.

Newspapermen, as journalists used to be called, have long been charged with the sin of cynicism... a characterization that many of us encourage to deflect attention from our far more widespread flaw, incorrigible sentimentalism.
—Robert Manning

Note: I realize that this is the latest in a series of morose posts. I want to reassure readers that I am indeed in fine spirits. I've just been a bit reflective lately.

Everybody has that thing where they need to look one way but they come out looking another way and that’s what people observe. You see someone on the street and essentially what you notice about them is the flaw. It’s just extraordinary that we should have been given these peculiarities... Something is ironic in the world and it has to do with the fact that what you intend never comes out like you intend it.
—Diane Arbus

alone in the crowd

Alone, lonely people talk to themselves. In company, they often continue.
—Mason Cooley

I think I'm becoming a bit reclusive. It's not that I'm hiding; I'm just not actively looking to be found.

Maybe it's the aftereffects of the trip. I spent so much time away. And so much of that time was with unknown face after unknown face. I was around others almost nonstop; yet, I was alone.

But I'll work myself out of this funk soon. I'm too curious about everyone else's lives to stay away for long.

We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.
—Orson Welles

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