Randomness of Kristin

My Agony Over Success

2011-11-11T08:42:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was my third day in a row of 12 hour work days. I was exhausted, and in a horrible mood. So, I decided I would do a bad job.

On Thursdays, my day at GV, I do a question of the week. I come up with an open ended question (what is your favorite food? What sports did you play? If you were dressing up for Halloween what would your costume be? etc). I ask people in the activities area, in the hallways, and then try to visit all the tables at lunch. In the afternoon I present the results; the most common answers, and silliest answers, the weirdest answers, unexpected answers, whatever seems interesting that week.

So, yesterday, being exhausted and in a bad mood, I decided that rather than going through all the tables, I would stop early and eat my own lunch. My supervisor even gave me permission (and does, weekly). It didn't work. I had to get to every table. I had to get as many answers as possible. I had to have good results to share. I couldn't do a bad job.

I must be doing a good job as a performer, too, because my schedule for December is jam packed. Some, due to the time of year, also because of a good marketing initiative back in the fall, and some because people hear me once and usually ask me back again. And now, I have so much scheduled, that I am turning work down. This is supposed to be exciting for any self employed person - more work then you can handle! That's when you start a small business and then you can really start turning a profit. But, I'm just in agony here. I really like what I do, I hate saying no to people. I don't want to burn bridges. More so, I just want to do everything.

So, I don't know what to do. And I realize that being in agony because my work is so successful is ridiculous. I'm just having an unexpectedly hard time turning in around and seeing it as success, and not failure. And I suppose that's the real problem right there - I see a "yes" answer as success, and a "no" answer as failure.

Waiting

2011-10-25T21:58:00.004-04:00

I'm really, really angry with my lack of iPhone right now.

It's just that I deserve this. I deserve something I want, something I desire. I'm not asking for a perfect spouse, or a perfect house, or a perfect job, or to be stay at home mom with lots of little perfect children, like all the other girls. I just want an iPhone. If other girls can ask for all those big life things, and get them, then why can't I get just an iPhone? It's just not a lot of ask. It's especially not a lot to ask since I already paid for it.

I'm just so tired of endless waiting for anything I ever want (Recall how I spent months trying to buy a house I never owned). It's always a huge, long struggle. I know that it would not suit my personality if everything in life was just handed to me, and so I am happy that I can have satisfaction knowing that I worked hard, persevered, and got something for it. Doesn't mean I don't hate the waiting, though. Sometimes I feel like I'm just going to crawl out of my skin, it's so hard.

Committment

2011-10-05T18:31:00.002-04:00

A lot of people call me noncommittal. I didn't understand why until a few days ago.

I feel I am the opposite of noncommittal. If I agree to something I am there, doing it, 100% committed. I will follow through on what I agree to. To accomplish that, I don't agree to things lightly. Maybe that is where people sense my tendency not to committ. I just want to make sure that if I commit I will indeed be able to follow through, and so I consider many decision, even simple ones, more carefully than other people may.

What I've noticed in most other people I associate with, is that their commitment is simply not as strong as mine. They may cancel plans, go back on things they said, etc. Its not that they never meant what they originally said, it is just that they changed their mind. This, is honestly difficult for me to understand. I handle mind changing in one of two ways. First off, I think it through. If I think there is a strong possibility that my mind may change, then I will not agree to something. If still, I agree to something, but something changes, I still will stick with my original commitment.

I suppose some of this tendency comes from business. You can't succeed at business with a mediocre level of commitment.

More so, I think it's just my personality. Who's surprised that I would even take decision making to the extreme?

I'm not saying I'm better than anyone else, either. I just understand the people around me a bit better now. And I can understand why they do what they do better, also.

How I Got Free Stuff

2011-09-14T23:12:00.003-04:00

I designed and ordered some business cards online. I was originally going to print them myself, but my printer is B&W only. I remembered using VistaPrint when I worked for music school, so I went with them. They looked professional. More professional than the homemade ones we'd tried.

VistaPrint offers lots of free stuff, one of which is 250 free business cards. Obviously free business cards are not actually free, but that's not what I'm going to write about. So, for the "free" business cards you get about 20 options, and if you want something different you pay a fee for it. The screen said to upgrade to a deluxe design was $3.99. Okay. Still cheap. As I go through the design pages I notice the price continually going up, and eventually hitting $13.99 before shipping. Shipping is about $5 for 21 days, and increased for shorter time periods. So I was ticked. Well, ticked is the wrong word. I wasn't about to pay over $20 for business cards I originally thought were going to be $3.99.

So I call up VistaPrint and give them a piece of my mind. Actually, I was not that horrible to them. I just explained the difference in the price I had originally seen, and the customer service rep changed the price for me. I opted for the 2 week shipping for about $9. All the shipping options suck (under 2 weeks was over $10, which seems ridiculous, and the $5 shipping takes up to a month, also ridiculous), but that one sucked least. I felt alright about that situation, and that I'd at least paid a reasonable price.

All was fine until it hit today. I was supposed to get the order on or before the 14th. And of course, it didn't come. I've been checking the tracking info, and it seems the package had been in some nowheresville PA since the 11th. Not my problem. So I logged onto the VistaPrint website went through some FAQ, and found myself with some "Contact Us" options. I chose to call them. Now, I was really going to give them a piece of my mind. How dare you charge extra for shipping within a certain time period and not make good on that? Of course, I get sent through an automated system three time, even though the phone lines are supposedly open until 10pm eastern time (it was about 7pm).

Next, I move onto the "E-mail us" contact option. I simply type out the facts, telling them I expect a refund on shipping costs, and explain the phone system also sucks (but in kinder words).

Well, a few hours later I had 4 e-mails from VistaPrint. They apologized, refunded the shipping costs, and sent out and additional order of business cards at no cost.

Oh yeah.

I love doing that.

2011-09-08T22:47:00.003-04:00

I get annoyed with the idea of achieving the life of your dreams. I'm not opposed to having a great life, but I feel like it's more luck, or coincidence than something you can make happen with enough effort. Thinking about where I'd like my life to be vs. where it is now, all the changes that would need to happen are dependent on more people than just me. I can do tons of marketing, but ultimately people have to choose to work with me. I can't force being hired. I can do my part in trying to make it happen, but all my effort is only a portion of what is needed for a successful business. I don't think mine is the only business that works that way. And business isn't the only thing. All relationships require both parties to have involvement and some sort of willingness. Even my house isn't under my total control. If it was, I wouldn't be listening to Chinese television from 9am - 10pm everyday. What I'm saying is just that I think the mindset of deciding to work towards a goal does not guarantee success. I guess there are some things in life you can "make happen", but most require other people at some level, and other people just can't be controlled.

And FYI I didn't get the idea for writing this because I'm ticked with people for not doing what I want them to. It definitely came from randomly watching an episode of Scrubs while I was eating lunch today.

Memory

2011-08-16T21:41:00.002-04:00

My 24th birthday is one of the happiest I can remember, and I wasn't particularly happy. Now, it wasn't that it was an unhappy birthday at all, but I was just choosing to be unhappy. I had to go out and buy the food to cook at the park, I had to organize it. I choose not to have a cake, because I would have had to make that, too, and I just didn't feel like I should have had to do that. Looking back, who cares? I guess I was expecting some great surprise or something magical. Really, I had a group of people with me who loved me, and that is all that really matters.

Things were different today than two years ago. Some differences are great. Two years ago I would have been thrilled to live on my own, be self-employed, be the most popular follower at dances. But some differences are not so great. Mainly, the people and relationships I've lost. If you'd told me then where I'd be now, I would have refused to continue on.

Some friends offered to take me to dinner this year, but I declined, at least for my actual birthday. I guess I needed to hurt. Or maybe just don't trust enough that it wouldn't end up hurting me in the end. Or, maybe I just hoped for some sort of ridiculous time warp. If I could go back in time I'd change so many things, because I would be thankful for the wonderful things and people in my life. I wouldn't sweat the small stuff. I'd just feel incredible gratitude and happiness with what I had.

. . . And, if God ever chooses to restore my life to that state, I will be overwhelmed with thankfulness.

I played the song "Memory" from Cats at a show today. The old cat sings:

Memory

All alone in the moonlight

I can smile at the old days

I was beautiful then

I remember the time I knew what happiness was

Let the memory live again

Let the memory live again. Let the memory live again. I want real, tangible, happiness. Not just a memory.

2011-07-22T23:09:00.002-04:00

The dance tonight was in the back room of DancEncounters, so I walked through the empty front room to get there. Somehow, seeing all those empty chairs made me feel empty inside. I guess with DE moving, I just wonder if it will be my last time there. I have lots of good memories there. I feel at home there. I'm a totally different person from the first time I was there. It's cool to remember that. I guess I'm not good with change, in general. And I just wonder if maybe things could have turned out differently. Maybe, it just wasn't meant to be this way. Change is just difficult.

Why I Hate Gossip

2011-07-21T19:54:00.002-04:00

I was on the phone earlier with a friend, who we will call Jamie (I'm picking gender neutral names!). Jaime was talking about the last few weeks, and mentioned another friend, who we will call Casey. Jaime was telling me about when he/she had hung out with Casey recently. Apparently, Casey told Jaime that another friend, who we will call Taylor, was spending that day at my house. Jaime asked me how that went. Funny, because I was actually out that day, not sitting at home with Taylor.

So, what the heck?!

On the plus side, this gossip is not harmful to me at all, but it's still unnecessary.

Best case scenario: Casey and Taylor are talking, and Taylor says, "Hey, I'm thinking of seeing if Kristin wants to hang out today". Taylor has every right to say that. But then why does Casey think it's alright to repeat? Why does Casey even think it's worth repeating? Who cares? I mean, seriously, is it really that interesting?

Obviously, I have no idea if that is exactly what happened. I suppose I could get angry and confront a number of people and ask them about it, but it's not worth it. My problem with all this is that I would like to be in control of how much information about my life is public and how much is private. I have good reasons for this. This time the blowup was harmless, but what if it isn't harmless next time? In fact, just a few weeks ago I ended up lying to a good friend, because I knew the truth would be gossiped about and the lie wouldn't. The situation still blew up, because gossipers are always gossipers. That wasn't even the first time gossipers made a mess of something they shouldn't have been involved with in the first place. And I'm just sick of it. My life is not a tabloid.

And beyond that: Note that I referred to all three people as "friends". I'd hope a real friend could be a confidant. At least, I have that expectation of friendship. So clearly, these people are not quite the friends I thought they were.

Day Something Else

2011-07-05T17:47:00.002-04:00

There's only a 2% chance that I actually have celiac disease.

Today sucked. I was expecting that, though.

Day Something

2011-06-30T09:53:00.003-04:00

Random dating boundary: No animated movies with mice. Other animated animals are alright, but no mice.

Day Twelve

2011-06-25T23:52:00.001-04:00

I was exhausted today. Still managed to accomplish a lot.

Day Eleven (?)

2011-06-25T00:33:00.002-04:00

My West Coast Swing is morphing into lyrical dance.

I'm getting used to the new hair cut.

I burned more calories than I ate today. A lot more.

I'm not sleepy right now; probably because I woke up 2-3 hours later than normal.

Day Nine

2011-06-22T23:21:00.000-04:00

Why are haircuts so emotional for me?

Day Seven

2011-06-20T23:02:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure why denial is a bad thing. Sure, it's not ideal. But if faced with two choices; living in denial, or being paralyzed with some sort of upset-ed-ness, I'd say go the denial route. You just live, and live, and live, and eventually the denial leaves and you're okay with circumstances as they are.

What's the problem with me and haircuts? Seriously. Cutting off a few inches, even (of 30+ inches of hair) feels like a HUGE deal to me. Don't even get me started on when other people cut their hair, especially without my getting advanced notice. I just wonder what the issue behind it is. Am I just THAT bothered by change?

Day Six

2011-06-19T21:06:00.002-04:00

My sink is as clean as the day I first bought my house, and I'm proud of that. Sweat equity.

The winner of the US Open today was a 22 year old kid. He sunk his final putt, shook his opponents hand, and walked over to his Dad, hugged him, and said "Happy Father's Day". You can't beat that.

Day Five

2011-06-18T23:12:00.002-04:00

I watched the season finale of House today. All this time I've been thinking that I'm Cuddy, but I'm not, I'm Wilson. I'm the one who again and again tries to say the right thing or do the right thing to get someone else out of their pit. I'm sappy, I want to make a difference, and I really truly believe that maybe someday I can drive someone to take action and change. All this time I've been figuring that I'm Cuddy; beautiful, independent, and almost foolishly hopeful. Maybe I am those traits, but I'm not her. I'm Wilson, who picks up the mess that House is after Cuddy breaks his heart. That's why I always pseudo date guys. They're a mess over whatever or whoever their Cuddy is. And then I sweep in, like Wilson, never tiring, never giving up, 100% dedicated to the sick, twisted relationship. Why? Because I think I can help. Because I want to help. I feel like it's my duty to help, if I can.

Actually, if I'm any House character, I'm Stacy, but that was seasons ago.

I clearly think about this too much. But, I think the show is true to the human condition. There's no pretty solution. Life is tough. Life is unfair. Sometimes, we don't get the answers, or worse yet, the answers just don't make sense. There's just a lot in the show that is relatable for me. I appreciate relatable.

Day Four

2011-06-17T12:56:00.003-04:00

It's a good thing I am only titling this with a day number, or it would never get written/posted. If I were giving it a subject related title it would be "injuries". The word injuries, on it's own, makes me think of a lot of non-injury, bittersweet memories. If I think about it, I'll probably go pace around the house somewhat angrily for a few minutes, until I feel sad. Then, once I feel sad, I'll go distract myself. That's just how it happens.

Anyway, my goal of random blogging every day for a month just for the sake of being open has already failed, but the reason is injuries. On Monday, I hurt my knee doing lunges. In an attempt to let it heal I decided to be gentle with my right knee. So, on Tuesday, when I had to spend an hour and a half picking up golf balls, I bent down from my back mostly, and only a little from my knee. The repeated movements just didn't go over well, because on Wednesday morning I could hardly move. No sitting at the computer for me - too painful. Yesterday was an improvement, and today is much better.

However, I did just burn the palm of my right hand on one of the coils in the oven. Ouch. Ironically, I had just talked with Lauren yesterday about favoring the left side of my body to increase strength on that side. Maybe that was on Wednesday, actually. So, yes, I currently have a few injuries. The end.

Day One

2011-06-14T22:09:00.000-04:00

I've decided to blog everyday for a month, even if what I say is useless. Actually, I have no plans for say anything meaningful at all (though if I stumble upon something like that, so be it). I just think it would be good to say something.

------

I'm having an issue with bugs. In the past I've never cared so much about the bugs, but this spring it's different. Two weeks ago, at a really inopportune time, I discovered ants had infested the kitchen counter with my coffee pot on it, and the sink. I found where they were crawling in, the glass on the sink I'd drank orange juice from that was attracting them. I thought the situation was taken care of when I sprayed the entire perimeter of that level of the house and the vacuumed up all the dead ants. Wrong. On Friday, of course at another inopportune time, I get home late, exhausted, and find three bugs right in the entry way. I don't even know what they were. They were spider like, but less legs, and brown on the top with white bellies. They hopped, so I couldn't pick them up with a paper and dump 'em outside. I managed to shove two out the door by whacking them in that direction with some junk mail, and the third escaped into the basement area and I ignored it and went to sleep. I sprayed that level of the house the next day. Now, there's a big-ish black beetle sitting in the foyer right by my shoes. It better not crawl in any of them. Also, I sprayed there, so how did it even get there? Ugh. I'm frustrated. People have told me not to worry, because the bugs don't mean I am messy. I don't really feel at ease though, because there are still bugs. Also, I'm trying to run a business here, and insect infestation just doesn't work well with that.

I try to turn all annoying things, especially annoying house things, into learning experiences. For example, it was frustrating that I was not strong enough to get one of the storm windows down this winter, but I now know that duct tape and pillow cases make fairly good insulation. Another example: I was livid when my friend spilled paint all over my carpet, but I learned that if you use oxyclean enough time, it takes out almost anything. I'm just not sure what I've learned from this situation, though:

"If you spray for bugs, it won't work"

"If you are meticulously clean (is that redundant?), you still can't keep ants away"

Note: It has been about 12 hours since I started this post, and I've concluded that the black beetle is dead. I still haven't moved it.

Another note/conclusion: I suppose now, I can just add "bug infestation" to the list of things I can handle with grace. You kind of want that list to be long, but you also kind of wish it wasn't.

Law Enforcement

2011-05-07T09:55:00.004-04:00

I was pulled over by a cop in what I thought was some freak occurrence earlier this week. On a two lane road, the police car was blocking one of the lanes, and the cop was out directing traffic through the one remaining lane, and he was motioning for vehicles in my lane to keep driving. So, I kept going, when suddenly he started waving his flags like crazy and stepped out in front of my car. I stopped, of course, and rolled down my window, and the following conversation ensued:

Cop: Ma'am, you were going way to fast for seeing a cop car.

Me: I was not speeding, and you were motioning me on.

Cop: But it's rainy and the roads are slippery. (Note: I won't deny that the roads were wet, but it wasn't a downpour, just little showers here and there)

Me: Okayyyyyy?

Cop: You just need to be more careful.

So, I continue on my way, wondering what the heck that was about. I'd done nothing wrong. Was the cop just so arrogant that he was upset that I didn't cower at his presence? I assumed so.

It was only after telling the story to a few people that I was told about some new law pertaining to moving over for emergency vehicles. It sounded an awful lot like what people are supposed to do for ambulances, so I looked into it.

Move Over America.

Apparently, there are a significant amount of police injuries and deaths due to cars hitting them while they are standing on the side of the road with another car, giving out a ticket. The new law states that you have to move over a lane and slow down to 20 mph below the posted speed limit. In more searching, I found a news article specifically geared towards Monroe county. It explained that the law has been around since January, but they are really starting to enforce it now and over the next several weeks.

So, here's my problem: How is an average citizen supposed to find out about this, or any other new law? Having an unpublicized law will not create change. I think it is also unfair to punish citizens for doing something that they very well may not have known was wrong. If the government wants to pass new laws, and cops want to enforce them, they should find a way to communicate them to the entire population.

Here's my next problem: They did try to communicate. There was a story on the local the news and in the newspaper. Maybe this makes me an abnormal citizen, but I do not have a TV or get the newspaper. Both of these things cost money. Even online newspaper subscriptions cost money. Just the internet service I used to find the article online costs me near $50 a month. I pay taxes to the state and federal government. I should NOT have to have an additional paid service to find out what they are doing and how it will effect me.

My thought is simply to offer a grace period on punishment for breaking new laws. I'm sure a cop can tell when talking to someone about an offense that they are totally clueless. Instead of giving them a ticket, for the first year or so of the law, give them an explanation.

Children

2011-04-21T08:30:00.002-04:00

This morning I have a thought, and rather than beat around the bush for a while I'm just going to say it:

Do people not realize that babies grow up to be adults?

I do not think they do.

Judgement

2011-04-15T09:09:00.003-04:00

When people ask me how I handle my money I talk about stewardship of resources. When people ask me about how I always keep my house so clean I talk about stewardship of time. I try to be a good steward of everything I have. I often pride myself on what a darn good steward I have been. Probably the best, actually. I can take care of myself all on my own. No marriage. No needing Mom and Dad to help me get by. Oh yeah, I am just that good.

So, I got the weekly Focus on the Family e-mail today, clicked on an article, clicked on another, clicked around, and came across something titled "Can We Afford Children" (or something similar). Oh yes, I wanted to read that. This was going to be the perfect article. I was so sure it would say how stupid young couples are to start having kids when they can hardly pay their bills. It would certainly encourage people to be more like me, independent, with plenty of money before they even contemplate having children. "Take that!" I could say to my less wealthy, baby crazy friends.

I was wrong.

The article talked about being a good steward. Being wise with wealth was certainly mentioned. But I read something unexpected: being a good steward of . . . . fertility.

Ohboy.

Fertility. I'd forgotten about that. See, I'm old enough to be serious about marriage, and not just dating around, but I'm not old enough to start worrying about my biological clock. I've got 10+ years left to have children. I'm not sure when the right time is to start worrying about that, but it's gotta be another 5 years from now, at least. Worrying, though, and being a good steward are two different things. Maybe being a good steward of fertility means having children while I'm young and energetic. My body could bounce back easier and I could be more active with them. God tells us to be fruitful and multiply. Maybe being a good steward of fertility means leaving time to have multiple kids, not just one or two. Maybe, being a good steward of fertility is even linked to being a good steward of money. It gets harder for women to get pregnant as they get older. Maybe, all the money I've saving in my good financial stewardship days will just go to some sort of fertility treatment. Whatever the specifics are, one thing is clear: I'm not the best steward in the world. I know people who have neglected to be good stewards of some things, but I've neglected some of the things they have remembered.

I'm just blown away for multiple reasons. First, because I got "caught" in my prideful thinking. Second, because I've seen that maybe my priorities and pre-decided order for my life are a bit extreme. Third, because I always figured children were the ultimate crutch for the co-dependent person. Actually, I am positive that they still are. But, children are also something God designed for us and intended for us to be thoughtful and purposeful about. Me? I'm just floundering around in oblivion until I get married, or freak out because I'm getting too old. "Oblivion" doesn't sound like a word that is synonymous with "good stewardship" to me.

I'm not sure exactly how to be a good steward of fertility as a single person. The only thing I can come up with is to not spend my 20s being selfish and ridiculously picky about finding a spouse. I suppose that's good for me to contemplate, but there's something much bigger. A lesson on pride and being judgmental. I am not on top of the world. Concerning those people choosing marriage and family over wealth and security, well, they are my equals, if not higher. I am not the best out there, making the only possible good decisions.

The truth is that everyone is different. We're all making choices with the best of our individual abilities, knowledge, and experiences. So who am I to judge when my friends choose to have children? No one. No one at all.

Why I AM Allergic To Rochester

2011-03-31T15:46:00.004-04:00

Previously on this blog I proved why I was not allergic to cats. Today, I will prove why I am allergic to Rochester.

After the horrific (okay, maybe that word is a little too strong, but I'm not sure how else to describe it) blood drawing incident, I found out I have a Vitamin D deficiency. Vitamin D comes from the sun. There is not very much sun here. Therefore, Rochester is making me sick.

Business Success

2011-03-30T08:33:00.005-04:00

I'm proud.

Friday:

Got asked to interview for a full time music-ish job

Got 1 senior center gig

Monday:

Got a well paying orchestra gig

Tuesday:

Got a new student referral

Wednesday (today):

Got 2 senior center gigs

Got an orchestra gig

And that's just the past four business days.

2011-03-09T15:59:00.003-05:00

I had the start of an annual tradition. For two years in a row, this week/weekend, I took a trip to Chicago. It wasn't just a trip, it was my trip. I traveled there on my own, I explored the city, I navigated the metro, I danced, I met new people. I had fun.

I didn't think it would matter if I didn't take the trip this year. And it's not even important why I'm not. Life happens, sometimes we can't do what we wish we could. I know there will be other trips in my lifetime, probably even to Chicago. And I get to keep all my good memories of the trips I did have. I thought I'd be sitting here thinking "those last two years were great! And this year, it's good for me to be home." Here I am, though, keenly aware I'd be leaving tonight. I'd have made my meals last night, and I'd be packing my clothes in the suitcase right now. I would be giddy with excitement.

It's silly, what I'm upset about: the movement of my life. See, traditions are supposed to grow with life. You start them, you recollect past memories each year. As you grow, so do the things around you, and your experiences. I should be able to look back and say something like this: "Wow, each year I took that trip, it took a smaller and smaller percentage of my budget" or "I've gotten so much better at packing meals over the years" or "I sure dress a lot better than I did a few years ago" or "I'm glad I finally learned to get sleep when I'm on vacation so I can have fun, and not be over tired for the last couple of days".

Last year, I could say those things. I looked at what had happened in the year and I was so proud and happy. I had moved forward.

But I don't know what to say now. This gauge of myself is at stop. And if there's one thing I stand for it's to never do that - to never be at a standstill. To ALWAYS be moving myself forward. I am 100% committed personal growth.

I know there are other gauges that are still showing I am on track.

I was partial to this one, though. I enjoyed the whole experience. My year just isn't the same without it.

Common Sense

2011-03-07T10:42:00.002-05:00

I have a daily workout routine that I have been doing since mid-November. I think the right way to describe the results is the my midsection is more "toned". I don't think I've lost weight. Maybe I've gained weight in muscle. I don't have a scale. Anyway, my weight hasn't noticeably changed, in my opinion, but my midsection is a bit slimmer. My pants have been looser, and I've needed to wear belts.

I HATE wearing belts.

So, I decided to put some of my dress pants in the dryer to shrink. It seemed like a great idea. Then I wouldn't have to wear a belt or go buy newer pants. I put a couple of pairs of pants int he dryer, and sure enough, the waist area had shrunk. The length also shrunk, so the pants were at my ankles. Well, I feel like an idiot. What was I thinking?! Apparently, I thought that I could selectively shrink the pants.

I guess I'll be using some of my tax refund to buy some new pants.

Movie Review

2011-02-26T21:58:00.004-05:00

I watched the movie Julie & Julia just now. I'm not entirely sure why I chose to watch it. I guess because I'm sore and brain-dead from six hours of violin today. It's just that I rarely make it through a movie in one sitting, and why of all things to sit through would I pick a weird girly-ish one? People have said it was good, I know that was part of my thought-process when I picked it.

Well, I didn't enjoy it.

First, no plot. It was just a story. Girl has frustrating job. Girl cooks a lot. Girl has disagreements with boy. Girl writes a blog. Girl is sometimes happy and sometimes sad. Um, didn't need to watch a movie about my life.

Second. . . well, maybe there isn't anything else, just the lack of plot. Maybe my second point was going to about me and movies in general. I just seriously don't like sitting still that long. Also, most movies are stupid, and plotless, and pointless. I like movies where you feel inspired to be a better person, or achieve things. I also like movies where cool stuff happens that I'll never experience in real life. Like, Firefly. Okay, so Firefly isn't a movie, but I feel like outer-space cowboys are not within my lifetime. But it's fun to think about, anyway. Plus, Firefly is funny.

But seriously, movies about normal life. Why? Why?! Why should I spend a couple of hours of my life watching about normal stuff when I could, at minimum, be doing normal stuff (if I weren't watching). I feel like I just wasted two hours of life. I did just waste two hours of life. I suppose my body needed the sitting still. But still.

Well, maybe this makes sense, but probably not. I'm upstairs right now, where there are no lights on, typing. I could turn them on, but I keep meaning to go downstairs. I should run the dishwasher. I'm exhausted. Oh, and if you're ever composing music for real instruments it is important to know the limitations of those instruments. Don't write notes that literally do not exist for the instrument. What do you expect me to do with that? And especially don't turn everything into a harmonic. It doesn't work that way. And you know what else, you don't need to label the "first ending" if there is not a second ending. Oh, and, the point of marking things 8va is to avoid excessive ledger lines, not to play melodies in a range that only dogs can hear.

Clothes

2011-02-18T18:24:00.004-05:00

I was just looking at clothes online, and checked the sizing chart to see what I would need to order. There were three measurements for tank tops. For the bust size, I feel into the medium size range, my waist was in the small range, and my hips were in the extra-small range. Well then. Clearly I am abnormal. People are supposed to be one size, not three! Then I noticed a line above the size chart that said: Standard Clothing (taller than 5'4"). I laughed. So not only am I not a singular size, but I'm also too short to even count. Hysterical.

Valentine

2011-02-14T20:05:00.002-05:00

I wanted flowers, and I got a pink carnation. It made me smile. I still think over-commercialized, media driven holidays are not worth buying into, but I appreciated the flower. I appreciated getting something I wanted that was meaningful to me. I guess God heard me.

Changing. . . Lightbulbs

2011-02-02T15:55:00.004-05:00

Last time I blogged I talked about if people can change. Today I will talk about people changing lightbulbs.

You know how there are jokes about blondes (or whoever you feel like making fun of) not being able to change a light bulb on their own? Well, some lightbulbs are not simple to change! I just had to stand on a step ladder and pry open a fixture with a wrench to change one of mine. So, I am just saying that it is not always simple to change a lightbulb. Although, I did do it on my own.

Changing

2011-01-26T16:03:00.002-05:00

I nearly blogged about this same topic on "House" once before. It was earlier this season. House did something dumb, and lied to Cuddy, after specifically having a conversation with her about not lying. I don't remember exactly what was said, but she had laid down some terms about trust and their relationship, and made some good points. House responded in a surprising way; he agreed with her. Cuddy had expected him to be defiant. She seemed pleasantly surprised. When House told Wilson about the conversation with Cuddy, Wilson was shocked. Wilson said something along the lines of "You actually agreed not to lie to Cuddy?!?!!" House's response: "I lied". That episode ended with Cuddy, thrilled, and House disobeying her authority and doing some ridiculously dangerous test behind her back.

I typed furiously after that show, angry at Cuddy, a darn TV character, for being such an idiot. House is House. House won't change. He never has, he never will. He's a jerk, a liar, a manipulator. Sure, he is brilliant and witty and saves lives all the time, but it doesn't mean he will change. It doesn't mean he is good. She'd be better off with Wilson, who actually cares about people.

I never published the blog post because it was pointless. I was upset and angry, mainly because I saw myself in Cuddy. I want to - no, I DO, see the best in people, see the potential in people. I constantly hope to see positive change. To see people grow. To see them become better, the best that they can be. I must be as much of an idiot as Cuddy. Why can't I be better? Why am I so unable to see people for what they are?

Monday's episode of House was unexpected. When Cuddy came to House concerned about getting Rachel into a good preschool House secretly tutored her daily, so she would pass all the tests the preschool had. He'd changed. It wasn't huge, and he tried to hide it, but he cared about Cuddy (and Rachel). He wanted to see them happy and successful. He valued them. At the end of the episode Rachel curled up on House's lap and Cuddy was shocked, as was I. I thought "If House can change, then anyone can change"

Can anyone change?

I don't know.

I always see the good, see the potential in people. I wonder if that makes me weaker, rather than stronger. I wonder if it just leaves me to get trampled. I wonder if believing in good really does any good at all.

I want to believe that everyone can change and grow. I do believe it.

Maybe, my belief needs to change, though. Maybe "House" is catered to dreamers like me who see the good more than the bad. Maybe real life is nto that way at all. Maybe, what really needs to change is me.

Appearance

2011-01-13T23:31:00.002-05:00

Its taken a solid year or so of consideration to decide, but if I'm attractive, then I'm going to be attractive. I don't think I should be expected to downplay my physical appearance because it may make others feel insecure. I don't think I'm some unbiblical whore because sometimes I wear tight pants or a low cut shirt. I'm sick of feeling guilty about looking good. All people are blessed with different things. If this is something I'm blessed with, then I have the right to be thankful for it and appreciate it and treat it like any other blessing, not just hide in some sack clothes.

Destiny

2010-12-20T11:46:00.000-05:00

My father, though not prophetically, spoke a number of things over my life.

He said I would not just teach violin, but that I would be business-minded and run a music school. Check.

He said I would be independent and buy a condominium rather than pay rent. Semi-check. I live in a townhouse.

He said I would set up a studio in my house, and work for myself. Check.

He said I would always be mature for my age, and that my 20s would be frustrating and lonely as I watched my friends go off and get married, albeit to irresponsible, immature guys who I would never want a relationship with anyway, while I waited around for people to show up who could keep up with me. Check. And run on sentence.

There you have it. My life, according to my father. I know he's happy with me and what I've accomplished, and I do feel good about that. He doesn't seem to expect any more out of me, which makes me feel like a success and not a disappointment. I also feel incomplete. Shouldn't there be more of a goal for my life than developing my career and buying a starter home? What happens from here? Don't I have a destiny? This can't be my destiny. The rest of my life cannot possibly be just hanging out here, where I'm at now.

I want to go forward. I want there to be something - a lot of somethings - to achieve and fulfill in my lifetime. I want purpose, not just existence. I want to move, and change, and grow. I don't want to stop and say "this is good enough". Especially at 25.

Two (random) Thoughts

2010-11-22T17:22:00.004-05:00

1 - You have to be crazy to kill your spouse by poisoning them with gold (inspired by the House episode "Clueless"). How much must you have to hate someone to kill them, anyway, and think just because it's with gold you will get away with it. No one gets away with murder! But, the creepy thing is, people must, and no one can know or they wouldn't get away with it. I wonder how many people get away with murder?

1A - I overuse and misuse the word creepy.

1B - Now, murder is a label on my blog. Hysterical.

2 - How can people believe that "sending good vibes" works, but prayer doesn't? All spirituality taken out of it, prayer still wins. Good vibes is good thoughts. Prayer is good thoughts + taking it to a higher power than ourselves. How can prayer not be a viable option?

Empowered

2010-10-29T09:44:00.004-04:00

My work computer is an old (PowerPC) white iMac. When I walked in this morning there were pen marks on the white plastic surrounding the monitor. The bottom, in obvious kid writing, said "NOO", and on the top of the monitor "Loser" was written. I wasn't especially offended because I knew what had happened - my boss' son had done it. He'd write "loser" on anything. I told her, she clearly felt horribly, and within minutes her husband knew.

Great.

So, he comes into my office and start cleaning the computer. I find something to do in another room, but honestly, there isn't much to do but wait, so I go back in when I see the writing is mostly off. Of course, he starts on another rant about parking.

I listen for a bit.
I present my case. "I wasn't here last night at 7:30pm - there's nothing I could do".
He gets more upset and says "You need to listen to me"
I say "Actually, I have the right to walk out. Your wife and I discussed it after last week." I moved towards the door.

He starts screaming for his wife/my boss, and she comes over, and recognizing he's flipping out, yet again. "Let's go, Kristin" she says, and we walk out of the room. He comes following us, yelling, and my boss says "Kristin, go take a drive".

Maria seems concerned when I'm leaving.

So I walk out, and drive to the library, which is where I am now, typing.

I'm upset about the situation - clearly unhealthy work environment that I need to get out of.
But, I feel empowered at the same time. This time, I didn't take his crap. And now I've set a new precedent - you don't talk to me that way. You don't disrespect me.

Blogging About Blogs

2010-10-26T15:12:00.002-04:00

I read a blog post earlier today on being sick and single. The author, a male, said he didn't find himself constantly thinking about his singleness, but when he was sick with a flu actively wanted a wife. He commented that he knew his roommates could help take care of him if he asked, but that didn't really cover it - he also wanted comfort.

I liked two specific things about the blog.
First, he didn't go on to say that in that moment God came and wrapped His arms around him and he felt comforted. I get that God is a father and a comforter. I get that we are to go to God with our needs and desires - He is to be our provider. But when you're in a place of tangible need that advice just doesn't cut it - at least for me. God hasn't cooked me dinner when I get home at 11:00pm, hungry and exhausted. Jesus hasn't done my laundry. People have wiped away my tears before, but God's fingers haven't done that. I'm not trying to downplay His sovereignty, really.What I am saying about this is two things. Point One, sometimes the "God can be that" advice, while true, isn't helpful. Sometimes, it just makes you angrier and most upset. I appreciate when people are knowledgeable and respectful of that, and able to give more pointed, specific, biblical advice. Point two, is it not also appropriate to pray for God's providence? In my opinion, praying for God to BE my everything and praying for God to PROVIDE for my everything are very different things. I don't think the second undermines the sovereignty of God, I think it just opens my heart up for him to use other people, things, ideas, in my life, as well. I've heard/read plenty of times that people say to have God be your spouse if you are single. Okay - right idea, but incomplete idea. God's big enough, and good enough, to be comfort and to provide comfort.

Second, the guy who wrote the sick blog post said that he looks forward to the privilege of providing comfort (among other things) to his future wife. Cool. I share his sentiments exactly, except with a husband. What a privilege it is to love.

Melancholy

2010-10-19T12:32:00.003-04:00

Monday afternoon wasn't the first time my boss' husband verbally assaulted me. It gets worse each time - and this time he was in my face, yelling and swearing, while clients were in the adjacent two rooms. He spent the next 12 hours periodically sending me angry e-mails that I couldn't really decipher.

Quote:
how about communication? How about saying "Hey, this is a groovy experiance, but don't bumm the ride, keep the ride groovy like a Steve Reeves movie. You need to park here". How hard is that?

What does that mean? He was clearly on a 12 hour tiraid, I think about where a silver Cadillac had parked, but aside from that it was just paragraphs of similar sounding stuff. I timidly walked into work on Tuesday morning and was glad to find he was not there. My boss walked into my office a few minutes later, surprised that I had even come into work. She was embarrassed and apologetic, and we discussed future handling of similar situations. I still felt upset; upset, hurt, and even a bit scared.

At my counseling appointment yesterday I explained the incident to my counselor. We discussed a lot of things - how to handle this man, how to handle my boss, when to give up and quit.
"Everything is always so difficult," I said.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Maybe this feeling has to do with the lost relationship. Would you feel that everything is so difficult if you still had it?" Yes, I'd told him, and recounted a time when I had had a bad day at work and even purposeful attempts at cheering me up had not worked.

The counselor argued back. He said there was something about having a person there and knowing they will be there, even if my mood didn't change, that makes a difference. When he said that, I remembered using the phrase "sit with" when I'd felt hurt and upset in the past. Experientially, I can't remember this (which is odd), but intellectually I can. "Sitting with" wasn't about talking or solving a problem - it was just about having another person there; companionship.

I started feeling less hurt, and more sad, after that. I thought about the bigger picture of Monday/Tuesday - what it means action-wise for me from this point forward. The difficult choices and actions I will need to take. I'm sure people will pray. I'm sure people will talk through things with me. But I do not think anybody will walk through it with me.

"Melancholy" means "thoughtful sadness" and that is exactly how I feel. People who I have seen and spoken to today would not say I was sad. I've laughed and smiled and been in a generally good mood. I think I look cute today (that seems related, somehow). But as my brain processes what I need to do, where I need to go, and that I'm going alone, well, then I feel sad.

So I will walk down the road ahead of me; thoughtfully, sadly, and somewhat alone. But I will do it, and that is the important part.

Triggers

2010-08-27T16:32:00.006-04:00

I hit my left thumb with a hammer once. It hurt, but I wasn't especially injured. No one nearby noticed, even. I just had a small dark mark towards the bottom of my nail. As I watched the dark spot grow up my nail for the next month or two I remembered that incident and the events of the day. I remembered what I was wearing. I remembered the moonlight. I remembered my conversations and my feelings.

On the way to MADJam a few years ago I noticed a sliver on the palm of my right hand. At least I thought it was a sliver, so I made a mental note to remember to pull it out when I get back home in the few days. I forgot - for a few months. After I'd remembered I found myself sitting at Salim's dining room table, screaming. Steve was sitting across from me holding my hand face up with one hand, and an exacto blade in the other. I screamed and squirmed. I didn't trust him to cut my hand opened. I didn't look like a sliver to me, anymore. So he let go of my hand, and went on a rant about other people who had let him cut out their slivers. I was hurt, and stomped out to my car. I looked at my intact hand, the little brown mark right under my thumb, and thought "whenever I look at this, I'll think of arguing with Steve". And I do. I remember it so well, like it was just yesterday.

I stared at my driveway for a good few minutes on Wednesday night. It was dark outside. I turned the light on the side of the house on and off, trying to get a good view without any glare. There was a shiny spot on the brand new blacktop, but I was hoping it wasn't shiny. I was hoping that it was blue.

Until my driveway was repaved on Wednesday there was a small section of blue spray paint spots on it. I knew it would be a memory trigger the minute I saw it. And indeed, I remembered. I remembered a phone conversation with my mom; "Kristin, lots of women have just developed a headache over the years. . . ". I remembered the clothes I was wearing, I remember changing my clothes. I remembered eating rice with soy sauce for dinner, and seeing a woodpecker. I remembered carrying my computer down the stairs. I remembered laying on the sofa half asleep until 3:00am. I remembered.

I thought I'd forget. The day a letter came in the mailing, telling me the paving dates, I felt sad. I didn't want to lose my spot, my comforting memory trigger, my memories. But I have them all - without the triggers (though I do sometimes wonder about all the things I have forgotten over time). I suppose maybe the trigger isn't some unusual thing, but just my brain.

Laughing

2010-07-29T18:43:00.003-04:00

A few days ago my friend Mike asked me how I was. I said "good", and he told me I was transparent, and he knew it wasn't true. He's one of the few people I someone manage not to trick lately. I put on a mask every morning when I leave my house - a mask that smiles, and says "I'm happy with my life, and I am capable".

When I take the mask off each day my face feels heavy. My real face says, "I'm unhappy. I don't feel loved by anyone. I'm overworked and overwhelmed. How is it that I work so hard for nothing?" The real face doesn't smile. Hasn't smiled, in a long time. . .

Until this afternoon, that is. After feeling short of breath and dizzy for most of the day, I was happy to take a break from working with the day camp kids and teach a violin lesson with a 10 year old girl who I've worked with for a few years. To make playing her review songs more fun, I came up with a game to play them in a random order. She would roll the dice, and whatever number it landed on was the number song we would play. Our efforts at being random didn't work. Alexa rolled a 2 (we changed the number 1 to 7, so 2 was first), then a 3, then 4, and when she rolled a 5 next we couldn't believe it.

Song #5, called "Oh Come Little Children" is the first song Suzuki students learn that starts on an up bow, and usually they forget this. Sometimes I remind them ahead of time, other times I don't, to see if they remember on their own. After Alexa rolled her #5 she ran back over to the piano as I played the introduction, with no up bow warning. Alexa played the first note a down bow, realized it by the second note, just when I did, and screeched her bow to a halt. I stopped, at the same time, and in the same manner as she had, and we laughed.

I laughed because the situation was so predictable. I laughed because the screech had sounded so funny. I laughed because Alexa and I had stopped at the same moment, thinking the same thing. I laughed because Alexa was laughing and smiling. I laughed because I hadn't laughed in so long.

We started the song again, still giggling, and I sure had a big smile on my face. And for maybe 90 seconds today, in the real world, I had no mask on. I was me. I was real. I was happy. I was loved.

If You Have Customers, They're Always Right

2010-07-23T13:13:00.003-04:00

Bad Example #1 - Getting New Customers
Over here at the corner of "the best intersection in Monroe County" three things happen. Envision a lower level of a house divided into three sections. The section to the left is an insurance agency. The middle section belongs to the homeowners - it is their kitchen and dining room (the second floor makes up the remainder of the living quarters). The right hand section is an arts school. Ron, the homeowner, is also the owner of the insurance agency. His wife owns the arts school, which I am hired to manage.

Ron loves to give tours of the old house. Lately, he's been proudly showing all his friend, clients, and insurance reps the arts school's new Lego room. The school is successfully running Lego Education camps each week of the summer. Today, while I was reheating some soup in the microwave, Ron came through with a man and his young son, giving them a tour. As they come into the kitchen from the Lego room the man says "my son is a Lego fanactic! Do you still have spots left?" I wait for Ron to introduce me, and have me get them registered, but he ignores the question and points out some shelves he repositioned in the kitchen. The man asks again, and Ron stammers, and says "yeah, those classes are popular". I'm still standing there. The man asks a third time, and this time Ron directs the man's attention to the wall behind his range, standing right next to me, and suggests that if he put a backsplash on the wall for Ron (the guy must be a contractor of some sort) his son could go to Lego camp. As they walk back into the insurance agency I hear the guy pusing for more details, and Ron just says "we'll work something out".

I'm confounded. Why not just introduce me, and I could have easily given the father a registration packet that would have answered his questions and got his son signed up for camp? In business you have to take the bait and make the sell. Putting the customer off discourages them, and doesn't get you any more business.

Bad Example #2 - The Customer Is Always Right
We tend to use the saying "the customer is always right", when the customer is actually wrong, but in order to keep their business, we treat the situation as though the customer is actually right. What happens when the customer is actually right, but is treated as though they are wrong? In this situation, the customer (myself), writes a scathing letter and withholds payments.

To make a long story short, the HOA for the townhouse complex I live in has not been able to follow through on a number of things covered in the monthly fee that residents pay. In the winter, the driveways and parking lots were not plowed. When I approached the management company about this, they assured me the plowing had been done. They told me my trash collection had been set up, when it had not. Now, when I tell them the grass is not being cut, they tell me (and I read on their website) that it gets cut weekly on Thursday. The lawns are four inches long - they were on Wedesday, they still are today, Friday. Either the management company is lying, or that is some fast growing grass!

I don't know the inner workings of management companies, but I know that in any business the road to success is not paved in ignorance, but in satisfying customers needs, especially when you have agreed, and been paid, to do what the customer is asking of you.

Good Example #1 - Honesty and Assistance
I called the law office of Someone and Someone Else this morning.
"I'm looking for some information about the townhouse I bought several months ago", I told the woman who answered the phone. I explained my situation - the the air conditioner is not working properly and I'm trying to find the name of the person who installed it, as it was brand new when I bought the home and may still be under warranty. I was told that the seller's attorney (who is either "Someone" or "Someone Else") could potentially get that information from the seller. The woman was at first confused as why I was contacting the seller's attorney, not my own attorney, but listened to my request carefully. She asked for the address of the property, my name, and address.
"I'm only here until noon today", she told me "And we keep many files in off-site storage, so I may not be able to get the file today. Would you be able to wait until Monday?" I was surprised at her willingness to help me, and told her that would be fine.

Why would Someone and Someone Else be so helpful to a person who wasn't their client? They could have easily written me off. Someone and Someone Else obviously have good business principles. "If we're nice to this girl," they're thinking, "even though she's not our client, maybe she will be our client next time she needs a lawyer. Maybe she will recommend her family and friends to us. If we're not nice to her, maybe she'll go bad mouth us".

Conclusion:
Doing good business means treating your customers and their concerns kindly, and with respect. Blowing them off just upsets them, and loses you business. Treat people badly: everyone loses. Treat people well: Everyone wins.

Proven Results

2010-07-21T12:59:00.004-04:00

As my friends date, get engaged, and then married, I am left absolutely baffled.

People are making their marriage decisions on hearsay, not on evidence!

Maybe I'm overly scientific or overly logical (highly likely), but if someone you are dating says "As your husband, I will provide the income to support you and our 2.7 children" I'd expect that he would have measures already in place to accomplish this - A job, and preferably one that makes more than minimum wage. I wouldn't marry someone who was waiting until after the ceremony to go start earning money. I don't think I know many (I do know some) who would. Guys prove to girls that they can provide the family finances by having a job. If I were looking to marry someone who could contribute financially (which I am), I'd want proof, not promises. (This is just one example of what a guy may need to prove - he might also prove dedication to family, ability to fix household items such as plumbing and cars, and good financial management, just to name a few).

Many of the females I know who are starting off their marriages this summer are going to be housewives. They will cook, and clean, and raise children - yet they currently partake in zero of these activities on a daily basis. Now, if I were one of the guys who was considering marrying one of these girls I'd be looking for some proof. I'd want to see that they can prepare three meals a day, and then clean up the dishes. I'd expect that they would have some sort of home, or room of their own, and they were able to maintain it's cleanliness and organization. I'd want to know how often they washed their towels. I'd want to see that they could live within a budget. I'd want to witness their interaction with children, or at least know that they had some experience. I've not seen any of this, though. I see guys choosing to marry girls who say "I'll make you dinner every night", yet the girls have never managed to make dinner every night for even themselves before. The girls are not giving any proof that they can perform normal housewife duties. In fact, while their words are full of promises, for some of these girls, their actions are proof of the exact opposite!

My bafflement is for the following reasons:

1 - Guys are typically far more logical than girls, so shouldn't they be going through more of a reasoning process?

2 - Why on earth would any person marry someone who has not shown you they can and will do what they say they will?

3 - There are plenty of girls out there who have proven that they can do what the offer, including girls who offer to be housewives. Why are these guys not picking the girls with proven results to be their wives?

Marriage is like medication. Say you have a sinus infection and your doctor offers you amoxicillin (which your health insurance covers and so you pay nothing out of pocket) or to be part of the drug trial for some new pill called Medication X (which would be at no charge). All other factors equal, I'd choose the amoxicillin because it's been tested, already, so I know it's going to work.

Note: I've never been engaged or married, so maybe I have no idea what I'm talking about. This is just my method of evaluation (in everything), and I fail to understand why it is not the preferred method of more people when it comes to engagement and marriage, especially males.

Note 2: If you're opposite of the rest of the world, and a guy/girl you are dating provides you with the specific evidence you are looking for, and you don't marry them, that's just as ridiculous and non-sensical, in my opinion.

Note 3: This does not apply to everyone who gets engaged and married, or even everyone I know getting engaged and married this summer, I've just seen enough people in this situation to notice that it is fairly common.

Broken

2010-07-19T09:31:00.004-04:00

In my college choir, which for some reason I auditioned for and got into, every concert was ended with the hymn "A Mighty Fortress". We performed the song from memory each time, yet the words were meaningless to me. The only gratifying thing about the hymn was the organ solo before verse four, and the key change. Other than that, it was repetitive, boring, and pointless.

Last summer, along with "Click, Click, Click" by New Kids on the Block, and some country song called "In A Hurry", "A Mighty Fortress" was constantly running through my head. I sang, and sang, and sang the song, and now, five years after learning it, the words were meaningful, not just a bunch of gibberish. I meditated on God's strength and power, His ability to provide, but mostly His sufficiency. The final words of the hymn struck me the most:

Let goods and kindred go
This mortal life also
The body they may kill
His truth abideth still
His kingdom is forever

"Certainly", I thought "if I lost everything important to me - my favorite things, my favorite people - I'd still love God and be fine". So I sang the song! I did it out of happiness - I felt like I was on top of the world, and nothing could bring me down! I told God that He could take anything I had, anything I loved, that none of it mattered, that He was first and I'd be fine.

God took me up on the offer.

For nearly a year I've been watching things in my life crumble - endeavors, hopes and dreams, relationships, goals. As I feel a year of destruction coming to an end I only have a couple things to say.

First, be careful what you pray for. Be careful what you sing.

Second, and more important, God has broken me. A year ago I was prideful and arrogant, thinking I was absolutely indestructible - and I didn't even know it. Today, I see some real truth in the song. It simply says that in spite of my destruction - physical or emotional - God still is. It doesn't tell me to ask or pray for pain and hurt and loss, it doesn't tell me I have to be happy about it if that is what happens, it tells me that God is the indestructible one, not me.

My Aloe Plant and I

2010-07-17T13:42:00.005-04:00

Steve gave me an aloe plant for a housewarming gift. It was a clipping from his aloe plant, which I'd seen transported from all of his homes in a small turtle shaped pot. It was a symbol of a friend of his who had died in their childhood. The day after I closed he came to my parents house, to help me take a car load of stuff over the the new house, and brought the aloe plant with him. He handed it to me and hugged me. It was small, and green, and I could see the roots and dirt through the glass jar it was in. It was cute, and sweet, and I liked the plant right away.

Steve and I got in my car, and headed for the post office before going to my new house. The glass jar holding the aloe plant didn't fit in the cup holder of my car, so I handed it to Steve and asked him to keep it safe. On the five minute drive to the post office Steve wedged the plant between the passenger seat and door, and when he opened the door at the post office the plant fell to the pavement and the jar broke. We laughed. He went in to mail his package, and came out with an extra envelope to scoop up the dirt and plant from the parking lot. He took an empty water bottle from my backseat, cut the top off, and emptied the dirt and the plant into there. The water bottle fit into the cup holder, where it stayed until we got to my new house.

At my house, I put the plant on the windowsill in the kitchen, and I commented about hoping I didn't kill it. Steve said he'd kept his alive through college, so certainly I would not kill mine. So far, I haven't. I water it, and it has been growing. After a month, Steve brought over some larger containers, and replanted it in the bottom of a juice bottle, where it lives now. I've watched the leaves grow up and out. I've watched two shoots come up on either side of the original plant. I see the leaves turn towards the sun. The soil the plant is living in is moldy, and it's just an empty juice container, but it's still alive and thriving.

Today, when I watered the plant, I thought about it, and it's history. It seems to me like it's been through a lot, for a plant anyway. I feel compassion for it, even if it is just a plant. With me, it's never lived in a nice pot. It's been dropped on the ground. It's been repotted a number of times. Right now, it's home is moldy. But it's thriving, anyway. And I thought "plant, I feel the same way. Do you know how many times I've been dropped on the pavement and everything around me broke? I feel like I'm living in a big pile of mold now, too! But, plant, I am still growing and thriving, too". I felt like maybe everything would be okay. Because if the plant can do it, well so can I. If the plant can do it, then I'll do it with the plant, and we'll be okay.

My Arm Aren't Long Enough

2010-06-21T10:36:00.006-04:00

I recall having an especially tough period of time a few years ago. I don't remember the particular circumstances surrounding why. I do remember my best friend was somewhere far away - either El Paso or Iraq.

"I need a hug" I typed to him, upset, on AIM one day.
"My arms aren't long enough, dear" he replied.

He wanted to hug me. He wanted to help me. He wanted to fix it. But it was an impossibility. You can't reach to Selinsgrove, PA from Iraq no matter how much you might want to.

I can do a lot of things. I'm thoroughly capable. Thoroughly more than capable. I can't do the impossible, though. I can't fix people. I can't even get people to fix themselves. I can't reach Iraq. The only place my arms can really reach is myself.

I do wish my arms were long enough.

Meaningless

2010-06-15T22:11:00.002-04:00

Today I woke up on time, easily.

I made my coffee, I ironed my clothes. I packed my breakfast and lunch. I took out the trash. I left for work early.

At work, I was greeted with a surprise: a huge, oriental carpet, soaked in dog urine, conveniently placed right in front of the door so my clients couldn't walk in.

"Why is this carpet here", I yelled (despite knowing perfectly well, why) "I have an interview at 10:00 and he's going to need get in."

The carpet was moved, and sprayed heavily with a pet odor eliminator.

At 10:00 I interviewed a man who is older than me for a lower paying position than I have. I've already done that 3 times this week.

I answered phone calls all day, sent out registration forms, taught violin lessons, sprayed more pet odor eliminator (which seems to be useless). I convinced my boss that we can't hire someone just because we like them, but they need to qualified for the position, as well.

At 5:00pm, instead of leaving, I listened to a mother tell me why every make up time just wasn't good enough for her schedule.

During my 20 minutes in traffic to get to my parent's house, a trip that normally would take 5 minutes, I took a work call. At my parent's house I picked up polyurethane and carpet cleaner and left right away for home.

At home I sprayed the polyurethane at a spot on my newly painted wall, and then tried to figure out why my garage door opener remote control won't work. I followed the set up directions, but it didn't take. Next, I headed upstairs to tackle at least two dozen small stains I accidentally created last night with buffalo sauce. I sprayed the Resolve on my carpet, waited five minutes, and blotted it out, with no results. I went back downstairs and did dishes. I washed the recyclables. I cleaned the non stick pans by hand. I gave the wall another spray of polyurethane before I ran out the door.

I got to Jitters, sat down at a booth, and filled out a form for AllState about a recent car "accident" (A woman backed into my parked car). I waited for 45 mintues at Jitters, and naturally, no one showed up for the dance practice they all claim to be so enthusiastic about.

I drove to Wal-Mart, bought shampoo, sandpaper, paper towels, and oxy clean.

Next, I drove to FasTrac. I filled my tires with air, and paid for my gas with cash.

Halfway home from the gas station my mom called, and I talked to her until I got back to my place. I unloaded my purchases, changed my clothes, and brought the painting supplies up from the basement. My second coat of red paint started with a big splatter on my white walls, which I cleaned up right away. When I was happy with the paint job I went upstairs and spent an hour blotting out the orange buffalo sauce from my gray carpet with oxy clean. At least it worked. I went back downstairs, did paint touch ups, and then washed off all the brushes and roller.

I'm tired. When I'm done typing this I'll take a shower, read my bible, dry my hair, and go to sleep.

It's 10:36pm, and I haven't stopped moving today. What do I have to show for it? I have a car with proper air pressure in the tires. I have a red wall. Yet another child can play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on the violin. My carpet is restored to it's gray color. I know my Dad's old garage door opener remote control won't work with my garage door opener. I have sandpaper - 100, 150, and 250 grit.

I'd rather a hug.

Solomon says:

There was a man all alone; he had neither son nor brother. There was no end to his toil, yet his eyes were not content with his wealth. "For whom am I toiling," he asked, "and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?" This too is meaningless - a miserable business! (Ecc 4: 8)

What's the point of all it, with no enjoyment, with no companion?

Nothing. It's meaningless. It's miserable.

Negotiables

2010-05-19T15:49:00.001-04:00

This is (sort of) a precursor to my next post, and also just random thoughts, not leading up to a particular conclusion.

In life, there are things that are negotiable, and things that are not. Some non-negotiables are eating, sleeping, and having heat in the winter months. I, or any other person, will literally not survive without those things. Some pretty obvious negotiables are: eating out at fancy restaurants, owning a brand new car, having a gigantic net worth.

Then there's the category of things that seem non-negotiable, but are actually negotiable. We think we need them, but we actually don't. For example - a car. Cars are not necessary for survival. I drive my car every single day. If I didn't have one, I could ride my bike to a bus stop up the road each morning, and ride the bus to work. Do I prefer the car? Heck yeah! Would I survive without it? Yes. My life wouldn't be as comfortable as it is now, but I'd certainly survive.

Another example is a cell phone. I use mine every day. But does my survival depend on it? No, not really. Most days I use it for fairly unnecessary purposes - such as receiving picture messages of my sister's hamster. Of course, I acknowledge that a cell phone can get you out of some difficult, dangerous situations, like being stuck in a snowy ditch on I-90.

Something I can't seem to categorize is companionship, and/or, I suppose, love. Most of me says it's unnecessary. Yeah, people want to be loved, but are we going to die without it. . . I want to say no. I've noticed this trend, though. I have a physical reaction to being alone, lonely, feeling abandoned. I get this rash. It looks kind of like dry skin at first, or some sort of abrasion. It grows, gets itchier, and turns bright red in water. I have it right above my knee now. I've had it on my elbow before. This could all be coincidence, too. I mean, I do refer to myself as "allergy girl" on occasion, so it's not that far fetched to believe I'd have a reaction on my skin - it's happened plenty of other times. Who knows.

He Is

2010-05-17T11:03:00.002-04:00

On Saturday night, I pulled out of the parking lot of a Catholic church's gymnasium crying my eyes out. Currently, I'm battling lonliness. It's so easy to type that word, to say that word, that I wonder if it can truly carry the level of emotion I feel. There's no end in sight, no solution to work towards, and so I cried as I waked across the parking lot, got into my car, and drove away, because it was the only thing to do.

I remembered pulling out of that same parking lot a year earlier. I was feeling uneasy. My boyfriend, whom I thought should be with me, wasn't. He was on a retreat because he was thinking of moving to China to do missions work for a year. I was concerned about a number of things. Would he go? Would the relationship end? Would I be miserable for a whole year? What if he went back again for a second year? How would I say goodbye? How would I handle any of it with grace? I had lots of questions and fears, and they were all running through my head as I pulled out of the same parking lot of the Catholic church.

He didn't go to China. When his retreat was over, the next day, he called me up and I went to his house and sat on his bed in the sun while he folded laundry. "I learned two things this weekend", he told me. "First, I learned that China isn't for me". I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and wondered why I'd been so worried. "The second thing I learned is that I've been afraid to love you". Wow. I was ecstatic. The pain, the worry, the experience, had been worth it, more than I could have imagined.

The next time I was in the Catholic church parking lot was in December. I was downright miserable. All my dreams had been pulled out from under me. My heart was broken. My paychecks were bouncing. My efforts in buying a home had fallen through. I couldn't participate in my favorite activities. I got in my car, in my black performance clothes, and started sobbing. I drove back to my parents house, screaming at God for destroying my life and putting me through so much pain. I didn't see any way out, any redemption, just unending hurt.

After that, not another paycheck bounced. Within several weeks my relationship was restored. Within two months I was homeowner.

On Saturday, despite my loneliness and tears, I remembered that God had been faithful. Twice before I'd driven through that parking lot feeling hopeless, and twice before my hope, and more, had been restored. When I arrived back at my dark, quiet, empty house I didn't feel any less alone or lonely, but I felt sure of God's sovereignty in my situations. He Is. He Is the same yesterday, today, and forever!

Homeownership

2010-05-07T14:45:00.005-04:00

On Wednesday, I ran into my first big problem as a homeowner.

Currently, the only thing residing on my deck is a bird feeder made from an orange juice jug. Actually, currently it's in the sink in the basement, but earlier in the week it was sitting on the ledge of the deck. On Wednesday, from my upstairs window, I noticed the bird feeder had blown off the deck into the grass, and I decided it would be better to move it than to litter.

I don't think I'd ever walked down the steps of my deck until Wednesday, and so when I went out there to get the bird feeder I looked around the area a bit. Right away, I noticed a little pile of fur towards the back of the deck and was nearly giddy with excitement. I figured it must be a baby bunny hole! I ducked down and went farther under the deck to look more closely.

It wasn't a baby bunny hole.

It was a dead bird.

I think my throat dropped into my stomach. I grabbed the bird feeder and went inside, somewhat disturbed.

(The bird feeder had two slugs in it, and that's why it ended up in the basement sink.)

I figured ignoring the dead bird under the deck would be simple enough. How often do I go under the deck, anyway? The problem stayed out of my mind for maybe an entire 14 hours, until Thursday morning, when I was getting ready to leave for work. I'd opened the door from my hallway to the garage, hit the button that opens the garage door, and as the daylight came streaming into the garage I noticed an unusual blob on the cement floor. That unusual blob was a dead, semi-squished, frog.

I know how to solve both of these problems - with a shovel - but I just haven't been able to bring myself to do it. You know, I knew homeownership would present a lot of new challenges, but I just never expected dead animals to be one of those.

Sunshine

2010-05-05T15:35:00.003-04:00

For the most part, I hate getting out of bed. I hit the snooze button three times on a normal day, and then proceed to continue laying in bed for another 10 minutes. I'll sacrifice any number of things, like a warm breakfast, a cup of coffee, the chance to make some phone calls, in order to stay in bed for even 5 minutes longer. Maybe I'm just not a morning person, or maybe it's my obsession with being wrapped in blankets thats the problem. Maybe laying in bed in the morning is my only chance for down time. Maybe I feel safest there. Whatever the reasoning, Tuesday was different than normal.

Before my alarm went off, before I even opened my eyes, I could see the sun. It was bright, and warm. I smiled. I threw my blankets off of me and just enjoyed it. It was pouring in my windows, filling the entire room. I laid there calmly, in peace.

After a few minutes my alarm went off and my brain woke up, and I remembered the day that was inevitably going to begin. I wasn't particularly excited about it, but I wasn't particularly depressed about it, either. I asked God for lion-strength, threw my sheets back, stood up, and had a good day.

I love the sun.

Chess

2009-12-29T12:29:00.004-05:00

Supposedly, chess players are good at moving forward in life, rather than continually thinking about what they should have done. I used to play chess against my iPod and computer frequently, until I learned how to beat the computer.

I'm reminded of chess because I've been thinking about the movie Spirited Away. It came up in conversation on Christmas Eve and I remembered that it had moved me in a big way, and I didn't quite remember why. Reading the plot online, I got to the very end, and as I read about a little girl walking away from a very close friend she may never see again, and being told not to look back, I remembered why I felt so strongly.

I can remember a number of walk-away moments in my life. There have been moments where I've stomped away in anger, and moments where I nearly floated away because I was so happy to leave. The walk away moments I remember most clearly are the ones that ripped my heart out so much that I don't know where my legs got the strength to take any steps at all. I imagine that's what this little girl in the movie felt as she walked away from her friend without looking back at his face.

According to the chess theory, walking away without looking back would be easier for a chess player, as they would be used to making moves and not being able to take them back, only think about the next moves forward. I don't suppose that my strength to take forward steps has much to do with my chess abilities, and I don't think little cartoon girl's did, either. Mostly, any ability I have in chess comes from picking up on patterns that the computer tends to use, and I can't really make many conjectures about a cartoon character's chess skills.

To change the subject of this post completely, I should be quite happy today because I found a townhouse I would like to live in recently and settled on the purchase price today. People keep saying "congratulations", but I'm not quite sure why - I haven't accomplished anything special - many, many people own houses, and I don't even own this one, I just agreed to go ask the bank to help me buy it so that someday I can own it. Maybe my lack of excitement is due to the complete failure of the last condominium I was going to buy (see a post back in October for that story) and I don't see the point in getting excited about something that might not happen. Maybe I'm not excited because I'm scared I'm getting myself in way over my head with a 1200 sq ft townhouse, a garage, a basement, a deck, and a mortgage. Maybe I'm not excited because I'm afraid no one will ever come visit me, or that I will get lonely, or that I will be afraid when I'm there alone, in the dark, at night.

Maybe, I'm just numb to any emotion at all.

Maybe, I've had to turn around and walk away in horrible pain so many times now that I've just shut myself off. I don't feel the bad, but I don't feel the good, either. Certainly I'd remain calm, collected, and totally unaffected by a lousy chess move. I'd say "Oppps!" and keep on playing.

Maybe, I just live life like I play chess.

I Write

2009-12-17T09:17:00.004-05:00

I don't have anything particular to say today. I don't even have any particularly entertaining stories to tell. Still, I have a desire to write.

A few years ago I was having a rough day. I don't remember all the particular things that happened, but it was more difficult to manage than a normal day because I'd pulled a muscle in my neck and it was quite painful. After teaching a dance lesson with a friend I was more sore than before, and was discussing this with him as I walked out the door of his house. I remember that I was carrying an empty cake pan.

Somehow, our conversation turned to something serious. This isn't surprising - we talked about anything and everything, which was, on that particular day frustrating for me. Having someone to talk to is great, but emotional intimacy often breeds deeper feelings that can be near impossible to manage in a strictly friendship setting. As my friend talked I said nothing. I had no desire to tell him that he was toying with my emotions, and so I started to cry.

He thought I was crying because my neck hurt, so he took the cake pan out of my hands and started massaging my shoulders and neck. This didn't particularly help the situation, so I started to cry even more. He turned me around, and hugged me, and let me cry. I couldn't tell him way I was so upset, so he suggested that I write, to get it out.

When I got home I took out paper and wrote about my day. I wrote about my sore neck, and the dance lesson, and my friend. Of course he had been right, I felt better.

My neck isn't sore today, but I have a few other random physical ailments, and some big decisions weighing on my mind that, again, are making my days more difficult to handle than usual. This time, I write. I write because I've learned that off-loading my emotions onto another person is neither safe or fair. I've re-trained myself to desire prayer or writing over human comfort. I've learned to let me emotions go - go to God in prayer, go into music I play, go into ink on paper, or typing on a screen - rather than just putting them in someone else's hands.

Arguments

2009-11-25T13:47:00.001-05:00

My friend Jesse likes girls. He tells me about the girls whose phone numbers he gets, the girls who write on his facebook wall, the girls who he thinks are cute, the girls who he thinks are hot, the girls who bother him, the girls who call him, the girls who come to him with their petty guy issues (guilty), the girls he flirts with, the girls he e-mails. You get the idea - girls, girls, girls. Personally, I don't think anyone will ultimately find satisfaction in life through flirting. I think guys ought to stop focusing so much attention and energy on whatever attractive, hot girl is around to flirt with at the moment, and shift their focus towards a meaningful, lasting relationship with a female who represents more than just a sex object to them.

I should mention that I do think Jesse is an awesome person and friend. We talk on chat, and on the phone, and have coffee dates, and I think it'd be safe to say that we're good friends. However, if Jesse moved to Minneapolis, or we hung out less, or talked less, my life would go on without too much trouble. I might cry a few tears once or twice, and there would certainly be times I would miss him, but I wouldn't be a wreck, or get an auto immune disease out of my upset-ed-ness. I care about him, but just not to that extent.

Last week, after having tacos at Moes, I skipped across the parking lot with Jesse to Starbucks for some caffeine. After taking probably ten minutes to order our beverages we sat down by the window, and Jesse told me how hot one of the girls behind the counter at Moes had been. I nearly spit my coffee out - I'd labeled the girl as fake looking, and was somewhat disgusted that this is even remotely attractive to guys. The two of us had a heated discussion about what girls look like, and continued on and off for the rest of the evening about this. Every time a girl walked past the window he'd ask me if I thought she looked fake, too. I went home, though, and forgot about the whole thing (until I was needing an example for this blog post). It certainly has had zero effect on my friendship with Jesse.

A few years ago, after having some sort of disagreement that lasted for a few days, I asked a friend of mine if he was angry with me. He said no, he wasn't angry, and that he'd only ever cared about three women enough to be angry with them. At first I thought this theory was wrong, because I argued with people I didn't care deeply about all the time. My argument with Jesse is a perfect example.

Then, one day, I cared about a man enough to get angry with him. I'd raise my voice, or give him the silent treatment and stomp out of his car without a hug goodbye. Then, I'd go lay in my bed with a pile of tissues and cry for a little while. The predominant thought in my head, though, was rarely "That jerk! I could kill him!" but "Why didn't I just hug him, and smile, and move on?"

I see myself do this all the time. I tiptoe around the emotions of people I'm not tied to, and lash out at the ones I truly care about. Instead of saying my piece and then letting it go, I let it get personal, and then I let it explode. I'm not the only one who does it, I see plenty of other people do it, also. I don't know why people do this - maybe because we feel safe to let our emotions out with people we are closest to? I think we all so often forget the last step of arguments, when it comes to the ones with people we care most about - the part where you just forget about it, forgive/makeup, and move forward as normal.

If we forgive the people we don't really love so easily, then wouldn't it make sense to be even more forgiving after arguments with those we do care for?

What Hurts The Most?

2009-11-20T14:01:00.004-05:00

I met my friend Dave when we were both 15. We talked on and off for most of high school, but really connected when we were 18. We didn't see each other much. I was in college in central PA and he was up in NY working random jobs. When I was home on break we'd go to movies, or wander around the bookstore for hours, or eat fried foods at Friendly's. Once we threw knives at cardboard to test how well they worked.

When I was off at school we talked. We talked on AIM, we e-mailed, we had phone conversations. We talked so much I had to buy a bluetooth headset for my cell phone. I'd cook dinner while we talked, and then we'd watch the same TV show while talking on the phone. I told him nearly everything; we were best friends.

After nearly two years of this Dave enlisted in the army. He spent a few months in boot camp, then got sent to TX, and then a year later was preparing to go Iraq. I was a wreck in the weeks preceding his departure. I remember sitting in his jeep, not wanting to get out and watch him pull away, because maybe I'd never see him again. He told me he loved me. He told me he'd be back in the US by the following Christmas. Nothing made me feel better - watching your best friend go off to war just isn't easy.

The evening before he left we talked on the phone until he had to shut it off to put it in storage. I told him I'd e-mail. We said goodbye, and I hung up the phone, and started crying. I was sitting in my desk chair, and let myself fall onto the floor, and cry. My friend Sylvia came and hugged me while I cried. The next day, in an attempt to make me feel better, my friend Chris got some french fries from the cafeteria, and we went to play the organ for a few hours, but I felt too sick the eat the french fries.

I felt sick the next day, and the next day, too. I recall telling Dave how sick I felt in several e-mails. The sickness didn't go away, but got worse. I was exhausted, and took 3-4 hour naps every day. My stomach was cramping, and sometimes the pain was too intense to even sit/stand up. I started eating bland foods, chicken broth and saltine crackers, but that didn't help. I couldn't digest a single thing.

When my doctor diagnosed me with celiac disease a few months later, more things than just my stomach cramping and energy level improved. Problems I'd had for years and years, such as dizziness, skin rashes, and hair loss, disappeared, too. Everyone wondered what caused the celiac to become such a problem when it did, but I figured it out quickly, especially when I read that a possible trigger is emotional stress.

Sometimes, people ask us to downplay our emotional turmoil. We're told to just keep smiling, to "fake it 'till you make it", to keep living. Sometimes people tell us to be thankful that we're not sick with cancer or whatnot. I'd like to argue that hurt is hurt, pain is pain, and the lines between physical and emotional are not well defined. The things that hurt us the most, that get under our skin and stay there, are powerful. I don't care if it is an infection or a person - huge, all-encompassing hurts are possible.

I'm not saying all this to say that my life is terrible, or my disease is terrible (it isn't), or that dying of cancer isn't terrible (it is). I'm just acknowledging the emotional pain and physical pain are linked, and in many cases, just different manifestations from the same root cause.

My Dad explained it to me very simply once, when I was about 13. The word disease can be broken down into "dis" and "ease". It simply means to not be at ease.

My Mornings This Week

2009-10-22T15:46:00.002-04:00

I've had some crummy mornings this week. Usually I wouldn't share, but I honestly think it's humorous.

Sidenote: Cross contamination is a big issue when you are a celiac. So, things like butter and cream cheese, where the knife goes back and fourth between the bread and the cream cheese, can be problematic - bread crumbs are left behind! Most people solve this by having two containers of condiments, one for gluten free bread items and one for normal bread items.

Sidenote 2: My commute to work is all of 8 minutes. However, there is construction at a major intersection on my route. Currently the workers seem to be at the paving stage.

Monday: I used the last of the gluten free cream cheese on my bagel.

Tuesday: I realized I never bought new gluten free cream cheese, and decided the normal cream cheese didn't have enough crumbs to make me sick. Clover Street is down to one lane because of paving and it takes me 25 minutes to get to work.

Wednesday: I wake up before my alarm with horrible stomach cramps. For breakfast, I'm ready with new, un-contaminated cream cheese for my bagel, but I discover the microwave is broken so I can't defrost my bagel. On the plus side, traffic runs smoothly!

Thursday: I get woken up by stomach cramps far before my alarm. By now I've figured out maybe using that cream cheese wasn't such a good idea. I manage to fall back asleep, and have horrible nightmares, and oversleep by 20 minutes because of them. The microwave is still broken, so no breakfast for me - not that I'd want to eat it, with the gluten reaction, anyway. I manage to get in the car 2 minutes before I usually leave for work, but sit in traffic for 25 minutes, again, so I'm late for work. Luckily my boss wasn't home. Unluckily, she wasn't home to notice the dog poop in her kitchen. I notice the dog poop as I am walking through the kitchen, and then hear a squish. I hop into my office on one foot and take off my shoe so I can go wash it. As I'm walking back into the kitchen (via a different route than the first time) I step in more dog poop, but this time in my sock.

Note that this is the end of my post, and it is only Thursday. I'll see what tomorrow brings!

The Closing From . . .

2009-10-08T15:47:00.003-04:00

Today I swore. I don't usually swear, so something must be especially frustrating for me to do so. My statement was "This is the closing from hell".

Let's recap my home-buying process over the past 3.5 months:

I put in my purchase offer on a condominium the end of June.

One and a half weeks later the negotiating was over and I received signed paperwork from the seller.

I applied for an FHA mortgage the beginning of July.

On August 13th I was denied for the FHA loan, because the condo project was not approved for FHA loans. I proceeded to apply for a conventional mortgage.

On August 28th, my expected closing date, paperwork was not in from the homeowner's association.

On September 28th, one month after my expected closing date, the paperwork was still not in.

On September 29th the paper work was in, but I was denied for the conventional mortgage because the paperwork had not been sufficient.

I was offered a portfolio loan, which I accepted on October 2nd. This loan was denied by a mortgage processor that same day.

The loan, and my file, were taken to the president of the bank on October 6th, and approved. Closing was being scheduled for October 9th.

On October 8th (today), my attorney discovers that the title is not clear, and advises me strongly against closing until this is cleared up by the seller's attorney. Closing is being scheduled for the end of October. If the title is not clear, I will be walking away from the deal.

Sometimes, there are morals to my stories. A possible moral for this one is to buy a house with cash - at least you could avoid the bank problems. I have a few others, but they are too violent to share publicly. The truth is, whether the industry is a mess or not, buying a home is a smart financial choice if you have a sum of money to use for a down payment. But, go into the process with two expectations. First, that you will drive the progress. Second, that your timeline, as clearly as you state it, is dependent on many things, so you might as well think of home buying as a ongoing process that will have a large presence in your life for several months.

Life (Not) In a Box

2009-09-25T10:41:00.006-04:00

I dated this guy for my senior year of high school and some of my freshman year of college. When the distance of being at different colleges became tricky he would always say "This is just the next step before we get married". I knew in my heart it was really just the next step before we would break up. When he tried to turn a Halloween spider ring into a promise ring of sorts I refused it, which had been a wise choice as a few weeks later he ended up kissing another girl and we broke up.

I took all the gifts he'd given me and things that reminded me of him and put them in a box -Birthday cards, a bracelet, a sweatshirt, etc. Now . . . (I'm counting) . . . 6 years later, this all means nothing to me. Okay, maybe nothing is the wrong word - he was important in my life and I recognize that, but I'm not going to have an emotional reaction to the Miami Dolphins the same way I used to. I googled him just now, to see how I felt, and I felt nothing.

For some reason I like to be able to pack up parts of my life in a box. Oddly, I often ponder what would go in different boxes if I had to give something up. Don't ask me why I do this, because it's the dumbest thought process to go through . . . "If I lost this important thing and it was too painful to be reminded of it . . ."

I have a drawer in my desk that has almost become my "West Coast Swing" box. All of my competition numbers are in there, some fliers, and pictures, and notes from workshops. I have a couple things in a pile that would go into an "RIT" box. I have a scrapbox that is my "box" from college. I think it's the idea of containing everything in one area that appeals to me. If, for whatever reason, I miss someone or something from college, I can open the scrapbook, and relive the time. When I don't want to live it, it sits on the bottom of my bookshelf and I don't have to worry about that.

Life doesn't fit in a box, and isn't meant to fit in a box. My work, my hobbies, my relationships - they are all totally intertwined, nothing can be separated out easily. Thinking about it, I believe life is intended to be this way. Not being able to simply take a portion of my life away means I am truly involved in the things I do and the people I associate with. It means I have to make decisions carefully, and with clarity and guidance. My business decisions effect my personal life, my personal decisions effect my business.

A lot of people like to leave the office physically and mentally at 5pm, and I'm all for not stressing out about work all evening and weekend long. But life is life. It moves and changes and grows and everything effects everything else. I could put everything in boxes, and shift around my boxes, and put some boxes in storage, and start new boxes, but I wonder, if I did that, if I'd really ever feel . . . if I'd really ever live.

Dog Problems: Part 2

2009-08-12T20:46:00.004-04:00

If my boss and her husband weren't making poor decisions before, they certainly are now.

As the saga of the tumorous dog continued on, things looked up. The vet wasn't able to remove most of the tumor, but Seamus could get up and down on his own, and even walk up the stairs. Keeping the tumor area bandaged seemed to be the biggest problem. The bandages fell off, so, being the resourceful people they are, my boss and her husband duct taped the bandages to the dog. The tumor was leaking, and the incisions weren't healing (old dog - harder to recover). The wooden floors in the house/office had trails of drops of blood. Somehow, the solution to this problem was to cover the duct-taped bandages with a T-shirt. Imagine clients reactions, seeing a dog with a T-shirt duct taped around it.

Since the bandages and wounds were just covered with a T-shirt and not cleaned, they got messy. In all his wisdom, my boss' idiot husband decides to "sanitize" a knife and cut off some of the infection/dried fluids.

The unofficial surgery did nothing to help the poor dog. By Monday afternoon it was clear he was going downhill faster than ever, and so my boss puts a call in to the vet to see what would be best to do.

On Tuesday morning her husband walks into my office (this never happens - the man hates my guts) and says "Kristin, everyone will seem a little sad today, because Seamus didn't make it through the night". He was crying. My boss was crying all day. They'd put the dog to sleep on Monday night.

Their children however, are positively giddy about life. Odd, as they had been so concerned about Seamus being healthy and having the surgery. I come to find out that Seamus had been taken for "emergency surgery" on Monday night, and he didn't come home because he was "in a coma".

Now the situation has really exploded, because you have a big lie on your hands. When does the dog die? Do you tell them you lied? What happens when someone inevitably slips up and they lose your trust?

Again, no one has thought past the present moment. They've thought, and admitted, that it's easier not to have to tell the kids and deal with their pain, as well.

Problems don't disappear.

Dead dogs don't come back to life.

Problems cannot be solved through blatant ignorance towards the issue.

Life requires consistent action in a forward direction.

Fixing Problems

2009-07-27T11:34:00.002-04:00

My boss has two children and two dogs. A ten year old girl, a six year old boy, and huge black lab mix, and a tiny chihuahua. The black lab-ish dog, Seamus, is getting old, and has grown a large (larger than his head) tumor on his stomach. Lately, clients who come in and out of the home-offices have been commenting on the tumor. One woman was so bothered she didn't want to have her meeting in the house where she could see the dog, and had to have her meeting outside. A few kids have asked if Seamus was having puppies. Most people just look at the dog, pet it, and comment on how badly they feel for it.

All the negative comments led my boss to take Seamus to the vet, something she has never done before. At the vet she was told that surgery to remove the tumor would cost $600, and it would probably just grow back because the disease is so widespread. Now, my boss and her husband are business owners. They own several business, and when one is struggling they will try something drastic (like buying a mobile billboard truck, or producing a musical) to make some extra money. Generally the new, extravagant, venture ends up costing more than it makes, and they end up worse off financially than they were before.

My boss was hesitant to agree to a $600 surgery that would not cure the dog, but her kids were insistent. She made a deal with them: they would start a business to cover the cost of the surgery. Last Monday morning the three of them went out raspberry picking. They came back with about two dozen cartons, set up a tent and table in their front yard, put up a whole bunch of signs, and the kids sat outside selling raspberries. The first day they gave away three cartons and ate two. The second day they sold 6, which put the kids in the profit margin by $7.00 (not including the gas money to drive one hour in a Yukon to get to the berry picking site). The third day they used the remaining raspberries to make a dessert of some sort. The dog went for the $600 surgery on Friday.

My boss ends up in the hole, again.

I'd like to present a different scenario:

Let's say, when Seamus' tumor first begins to appear, he is taken to the vet. It's possible that it could have been cut out while it was still small, and stopped from spreading to the point it is at now. The dog wouldn't be in pain, it wouldn't have had a negative impact on business, and my boss could have spent three days actually trying to make money, rather than running a fruit stand.

What if she took it a step further, and dealt with every problem when it first arose, rather than ignoring it until it was absolutely necessary? Real-life example: There is often not enough money in the bank account, and my boss is aware of this. A check bounces, and the bank charges a $32 fee. Now, instead of having to come up with X amount of dollars to cover the bill, she has to come up with X + 32 dollars. Say this happens every week for a month - if she would come up with the money for the bills before the checks bounced she could save nearly $150 a month.

The solution to problems seems simple to me - solve problems when they first come up, while they are smaller and manageable - don't wait until it is a gigantic mess. The solution might not be easy to carry out, or any fun at all, but problems will never solve themselves, so taking steps to fix things while they are still manageable will always be an infinitely better choice than waiting for a disaster to appear, and then trying to fix that.

Too Much Work or Too Much Money

2009-06-18T09:38:00.004-04:00

Yesterday I was on a time sensitive mission for work. Get to the bank to make a deposit before it closed at 4:30. It was 4:20, when I learned I needed to do this. In my rushing I forgot, until I was tuning out the parking lot, to turn the trip odometer back to zero. So I reached my hand through a space in the steering wheel to hold in the knob for a few seconds, until the odometer changed to zero. Well, as my right hand was reaching through the steering wheel, my left hand was turning the steering wheel to get out of the parking lot. Many times, multi-tasking is good, but in this case it wasn't. My right arm turned in ways it wasn't supposed to. After I rescued my arm I actually thought it may have been broken it hurt so badly, but it doesn't seem to be anything some time, and icing, will not fix.

So, I've been looking at my arm yesterday and this evening. I can't tell if I'm getting a bruise, or if it is more of a rope burn type of thing. I can see some swelling, also. In looking at my arm I noticed something even more unusual. A harder, darker patch of skin on the back of my right wrist/the bottom of the palm of my hand. This little square of skin looks different and feels different. I started wondering how it got there - Did this happen from the steering wheel, too? I hadn't thought my hand was even in the right spot to get hurt. Then I started wondering if I had some sort of skin problem, or other problem that effected skin. I know that skin doesn't just turn colors and textures on its own. I decided to stop worry, and went back to whatever I had been doing on the computer at that time. I only had my hand on the mouse for about 3 seconds when I realized what had been happening. Because of the less-than-ideal chair/desk combination I have at work, my keyboard and mouse have to be right at the edge of the desk, nearly falling off. When I use my mouse, that corner of my wrist rests right on the edge of the desk. This happens for hours each day.

It was then that I came to the sad realization of how largely my job effects my life. Last week I was sick to my stomach with worry, this week I'm injuring myself. I took a call at 8:00pm from my boss on Tuesday. Two weeks ago I worked for seven hours on Sunday. I go home and feel entirely drained. I'm not saying that extenuating circumstances don't come up that have to be dealt with. Part of being a salaried employee is dealing with these things. I also believe that part of being an employee means that you are not a slave, or work horse. If I am working extra entire days, dealing with unprofessional business situations and all the other time consuming, stressful things that happen, I believe that I should be compensated in some way for that.

I watched a documentary the other day on the Bank of America/Merril Lynch merger/sale that happened this past fall, and they have the opposite problem. Billions and billions of dollars of Merril Lynch's income is allotted to bonuses each year. Instead of putting money back into the failing bank to rescue it, the CEOs keep the money for themselves. The average salary of a Merril Lynch employee, who also receives a large bonus each year, is $240,000. The average salary of a Bank of America employee, who does not receive a bonus is $75,000. Of course, Bank of America is the bank that is thriving and bought out Merril Lynch.

The point I am trying to make is that correct compensation for work is extremely important for a business to succeed . In the case of the employee who puts in a lot of effort, and just receives enough to live on, the employee ends up over tired, injured, unhappy, and frustrated - and is not very useful to the business in that state. In the case of the employee who earns a large salary, and is automatically given large bonuses, the best interest of the business is not in mind there, either. In the case of Merril Lynch, the bank was so far in the hole that the federal government basically ordered them to be bought out.

I believe there is a happy medium out there. I believe that employers and companies who can find that will find success for themselves, as well.

Laughing at the Bad

2009-05-06T11:10:00.005-04:00

This morning, on my way to work, a car pulled out in front of me. I slammed on my brakes and my phone, iPod, and the contents of a file folder fell onto the floor of my car. As the car slowly gained speed in front of me I frantically looked for the bowl of soup I had brought for lunch, hoping it hadn't spilled all over my car. There was no evidence of soup, which was at first a relief, and then I realized I'd left my lunch at home. Sure, I work on a very commercialized strip with plenty of cafes and fast food restaurants - none that cater to celiacs, however, so I realized it was no lunch for me.

As I walked towards the door to work I realized something was wrong. I hesitated while I unlocked the door - Work did not feel right. I unlocked the door, hit the light switch, and nothing happened. I hit it again. Nothing happened. I made my way around the corner in the total dark, and hit the light switch in the next room. Nothing happened. I set my violin, viola, bag of files, and coffee mug on the floor and called my boss. One and a half hours, a nearly dead cell phone battery, and a lot of embarrassment later, the lights came on.

My life is full of ABSOLUTELY ridiculous problems. So maybe the missing lunch isn't so unusual, but how many people honestly walk into their jobs on a Wednesday morning to the power having been shut off? I've had a lot of absurd problems recently - work and non-work - and they have upset me greatly. Yesterday I had a headache because I had spent so much time crying. I couldn't even eat, I was so upset. Today, when I walked into a school without power, I didn't cry - I laughed.

I laughed because I am helpless. I realized, in that minute, that there was absolutely nothing I could do to make the lights turn on, no matter how badly I wanted them to come on. A man in an office building downtown has that power, but I do not. So often, I am given the power to solve problems. I solve, and solve, and solve, until I have no more energy to solve anymore, and then I keep solving. What a relief - to finally have a problem I could not solve! Instead of crying and worrying (ok, I admit it, there was some - but it was not overwhelming) until the power came back on I sat in a comfy chair in the dark and relaxed, and was thankful for the downtime, which I so rarely get.

So what did I learn? Oddly, something my exceptionally wise boyfriend just asked me to learn last night, even through my persisting that it could never possibly happen. I can dislike a situation. It can be awkward, uncomfortable, upsetting, angering, frustrating - BUT, at the same time, I can be at peace with it, knowing it is out of my hands, and in the hands of someone who does have the power to fix it.

God never fails to amaze me with what He can do.

Valentine's Day

2009-02-17T17:45:00.003-05:00

I'm supposed to do a Valentine's Day post.

I'm flexible and easy-going. I didn't always used to be. I used to plan out my life and if every little detail did not go according to plan I would fall apart. People often ask questions like "What do you want to do tonight?" or "Where do you want to eat dinner?" or "What time do you want to get there?" In my opinion there are only three ways a sane person would answer these types of questions:

1. You have an opinion and say it ("I want to eat tacos for dinner and then play video games").

2. You have an opinion, but don't say it ("I don't care. Whatever you want to eat", while dreaming of tacos in your head the entire time).

3. You honestly do not care ("I don't care").

For the first 20-something years of my life I choose option 2. I always cared, but I never wanted to admit to caring. I don't know how it happened, maybe I just said "I don't care" enough times, but I really began to not care. I actually heard people describe me as "flexible".

An odd thing happened after I didn't care for a while - I started thinking. Not that I never thought before - I had thought a lot - but I started thinking in a different way. Somehow, when I'd been empty and without-a-care, all my pre-conceived notions of the world, and ideas society had put there, disappeared. What happened next was even more interesting - once I started wanting to care, I was able to make my own decisions, and share them, and live by them.

I decided that eating at restaurants frequently wasn't for me. I decided that I didn't want to get a Master's degree. I decided not to drink alcohol. I decided not to ever purposefully lie. I decided that if I was going to eat sugar, it was going to be chocolate. I decided to follow what God called me to do, not what other people called me to do.

Somewhere, in all my decisions, I decided that holidays were nothing special. In my opinion, holidays are cliched and over commercialized. I boycott all holidays that are simply an excuse for people to drink excessively. I don't go shopping on the day after thanksgiving. I'm generous at Christmas, but don't go overboard like society wants me to. Halloween is just pointless.

I definitely don't do Valentine's Day.

As far as I'm concerned, if you love someone, you should let them know that all year long, not just on some random day in February. Also, if I'm showing someone how much I care about them, the ideal way to do it doesn't seem like waiting 3 hours for a table at a restaurant, and then . . . I don't know . . . whatever people would do after that. Go see a movie? Eat dessert? Have sex?

Or, if you're so into this Valentine's Day thing, why not just make your own? Pick some random day in some other month, and then you go do all those things without the lines, and, if you live in Rochester, possibly even without having to scrape ice off your car in between every stop.

So, in my opinion, the only real benefit of Valentine's Day is that I end up with chocolate, and that is rarely a bad thing. Other than that, besides the people who have a financial interest in Hallmark, who actually cares?

Deep Thoughts With Kristin

2009-01-30T14:28:00.000-05:00

I am a girl.

My Car

2008-12-30T13:44:00.003-05:00

The story of my car starts 10 years ago when my mother and I were driving home from my sister's flute recital in our Subaru Outback. It was red and less than a year old. I loved it. We were on Clover Street, heading straight through the Clover/French Rd. intersection. There was a van coming towards us, but instead of going straight, it turned left. Everything went in slow motion. I heard my Mom scream, and I said, very matter-of-fact-ly "We're going to get in a car accident".

The van smashed into the front/passenger side of the car. The airbags hit me. The air was dusty and my Mom was yelling at me to get out. My door was stuck and I had to kick it open with both feet. The first thing I noticed was green liquid floating all over the street. Car pieces were all over. I burst into tears and couldn't stop crying. The car was destroyed and I knew it.

The car was totaled, and my parents purchased a new model of the same car - this time in a color called "wintergreen". I was sad it wasn't red.

When it was time to go to go to college, a few years later, my Dad made a deal with me. He told me if I picked a school that gave me a full scholarship I would get a car. We had fun pretending he was going to buy me a WRX, with 264 horsepower. There was no car, though, for my first year of college. For my second year of college, he bought a 10 year old Saturn for a couple thousand dollars from my cousin (who had probably used it for off-roading).

Ah, the shitty saturn, as I called it. The driver side window did not go down. It stalled daily. One of the wheels got dented, and I ended up having to drive out to a creepy junkyard for another, unmatching one (there's a story for my next post). After a year with the shitty saturn an amazing thing happened. My Dad bought a new car - and passed the wintergreen Subaru outback on to me. He gave me a short lecture about taking good care of it and keeping it clean, as it was the family car. I sure loved driving a car that didn't stall every time I was at a red light.

I drove the car for the rest of my time at college. Aside from a flat tire I got last year (someone in Steve's neighborhood slashed it, and left cocaine in the tire - we know because we tried it. (That's a lie, people!)) the car ran perfectly.

My good luck ran out on December 8th, when the check engine light went out. My Dad suggested getting in to be check would be good, and if the light started flashing, to stop driving immediately. Steve advised me to jump out of the car if it started on fire. Three days, one awesome rental car, one catalytic converter, and almost two paychecks later, my car was fixed.

I was a bit of a snot about the whole situation, and had a bad attitude. So, I suppose it's no surprise that 18 days later my car had another problem. A week ago Monday, when I was heading off to work, my car wouldn't start. It was totally dead. On the plus side, I got to drive my father's awesome Prius for the morning. On the more negative side, there was another problem with my car.

At lunch my father and I went to Sears to purchase a new battery. He was sure it was the battery - the car is 9 years old at this point, and batteries have a 8-10 year life, so it made sense. So we bought the battery, came home, put the battery in, and the car still didn't start.

I started sobbing.

My father called the tow truck and I hid in my room and tried to get work done from my home computer. Tried being the key word in that sentence - I was a complete and total wreck. I'd just had the catalytic converter replaced a couple weeks ago, bought a new battery, now it needed to be towed, have something else fixed. It just didn't seem appropriate to me that I would spend more money than I was making on my car.

I prayed. I asked other people to pray. I heard the tow truck pull up. I couldn't bear to watch. I heard the tow truck leave. My father came upstairs and said "It started. The tow truck guy - he was this little jolly guy - he put the key in and it started. It must have been flooded. I didn't think that could happen to newer cars, but he said it is possible. So it's fine now".

I drove the car that night, to Starbucks, around Henrietta angrily. I drove to work the next day, and to CVS for milk. It was starting. It wasn't starting that well, but it was starting, and getting me where I needed to go.

At 9:00pm on New Years Eve I got in my car to go out, and it was completely dead again. I stomped in the house and layed on my bed and played Tap Tap Revenge for half an hour. Then I called many people in my cell phone, in total boredom. My father and I decided we'd get it started the next day and get it somewhere to be looked at right away.

Well, we got a little bit distracted on New Years Day, and ended up watching a program about an obesity clinic in NYC for about 4 hours. Then I played DDR with Alex for a few hours.

So Friday morning I woke up and my father was in the driveway with the hood of my car up, battery out, soaking all sorts of car pieces in water and baking soda. He couldn't get it started. I got upset again. I prayed. I complained. My Dad still wanted to get it started himself, but said he'd killed the battery trying so many times, so we were going to take it to Sears to get charged.

Into Sears we go, for the second time that week, carrying a battery. We handed it to the woman at the counter, and she took it to the back. She came out two minutes later. "It's bad" she said, and handed us a brand new battery. "It's very rare, but it happens". Back at home, for about the 5th time, my Dad hooked a battery up to my car. This time, it started up perfectly right away.

The moral of the story is . . . well, I don't know. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe this is just a story about my car and I.

Why Is Paying Bills So Difficult?

2008-12-18T17:03:00.004-05:00

I thought it was common knowledge - People are more likely to pay you if you make it easier for them.

Examples of what not to do:

1) NYSDMV

I know some of you are sick of hearing about this, and some of you can't believe I paid them, but it's still a good example. I got a ticket at 1:00am on a Thursday. October 23, 2008, to be exact. I was ticked off, so I decided to pay the ticket off right away and get it out of my mind. First thing that morning I signed onto the website, entered in my ticket info, only to find that it was not listed yet. Ok, this made sense, as it had not even been 8 hours since I'd received the ticket, and most of the hours had been in the middle of the night. You have 14 days to pay a ticket, and by the 10th day, my ticket was still not available online. There was no phone number to call. Being the conscientious person I am, I wrote a check and put it in the mail, along with a letter saying that it was unacceptable to offer an online payment option, and then have it not work. My guess is that people without OCD and photographic memories might have forgotten and not paid the ticket at all, and then got slammed with a late fee.

2) Frontier Communications

I realize many of you are also tired of my whining about Frontier, but this is another good example. I had a phone/DSL bill to pay, and was using a credit card to pay. I called, went through 5 billion (or, three) automated menus, and arrived at the automated credit card payment system. The first direction: Enter your account number as it appears on the top of you bill. Ok, this is easy - but as I'm entering the number I have the feeling this is just not going to work (yeah, yeah, I knooooow). It doesn't work. The nice computer voice lady tells me she doesn't recognize my number. I try it again. She still doesn't recognize it. I try it a third time and she still doesn't recognize it and hangs up on me. I call Frontier, but this time navigate through the automated menus to find Customer Service, and ask the lady why the heck my account number is unrecognizable. This lady, who is a human, tries to sell me extra services, and then tells me she is connecting me to the appropriate extension so I can pay. Well, what do you know, same friendly computer lady asks me to enter my account number. And, what do you know, she doesn't recognize it again. So I hang up on the computer lady, call a third time, get to a human for the second time, and tell her I am trying to pay the bill but it is just not working. She connects me to another human, who takes the credit card info, and I pay the bill.

The business I work for used to have a terrible payment system. The only option was to pay monthly, by check. This did not work. In the 11 months that I used this system, we racked up about $2,000 in unpaid invoices. When I had the opportunity to change things I did - options! I offered three methods to pay your bill, two payment schedules, the option for automated payments, and an incentive if you pay your entire bill up front. I've been using this system for four months and currently have $41 of unpaid invoices.

I know the convention is to slam people with late payments to get them to pay their bills on time, but I think the key to getting a payment is to simply have actually making the payment possible.

My Friends

2008-12-08T22:54:00.003-05:00

So, I honestly have no idea why I started a blog. It occurred to me that if I intend to keep this up I am bound to mention my friends sooner or later. I started to wonder if there was an order to this - like when I got a new job - I had to tell my family first, then my close friends, etc. I thought about which friends I was likely to mention, and wondered if some of them would prefer to not have their name, even if it was just their first name, floating around the internet. This made me recall a time that I was preparing a poem I wrote to be published on a collaborative blog. When I decided I did not want to use real names and places in the poem the editor and I had fun coming up with fake ones. The poem was never published, but since it is all ready, with fake names and all, I thought I would put it to use.

My dog is shaking.

We got him when I was nine years old.

He was a puppy.

We played soccer in the backyard.

Every morning I took him outside when I woke up.

It was my responsibility.

His name is Butterscotch,

And he always liked food.

He would eat everything

- He once ate steel wool he found in the basement -

And then he stopped eating.

He couldn't jump up onto the sofa.

And then he couldn't walk.

So my Dad carried him out to the backyard,

While I woke up and went to my real-world job.

He couldn't go to the bathroom.

He can hardly stand.

He started shaking and won't stop.

And so today my Mom said

"I want to take him tomorrow, to the vet, to get the shot"

And a few tears came out.

He was on the sofa next to her, wrapped in a towel, still shaking.

I said no.

Not tomorrow.

"Why"

"John won't be here. He needs to come over.

He's supposed to come over.

He said he'd come over.

He has to go to Scranton all day.

I won't even be able to call".

And he was shaking in the towel.

My Mom didn't say anything.

"What if he dies tomorrow just on his own"?

She looked at Butterscotch, petted his head.

"When you are born, you cry" she said.

"When you die, other people cry. You don't.

He's going back to be with his friends, puppies".

And my friend was sitting across the room

Sketching my dying dog

So I did not cry.

I did not say anything more.

I wanted to say "Will he make it until Jane comes home"

I wanted to say "What will we do with his collar"

I wanted to say "What will I do when Dad cries"

I waned to say "What if I don't get to say goodbye"

I wanted to say "I am so scared to say goodbye"

I am so scared to say goodbye.

Why I am NOT allergic to cats

2008-12-04T15:02:00.000-05:00

A lot of people call me "GF", but it is not because I am their girlfriend, it's because I am gluten free (A lot of people also call me "OCD", but that is because I truly have OCD).

Sometimes I tell people I am allergic to everything, because it takes a lot less time to say that, than "I have celiac disease, so I can't eat gluten. It's a protein in wheat, barley, rye (and oats, by contamination). Instead of digesting gluten, it triggers an immune system response and my small intestine attacks itself and I can't absorb any nutrients from the food I eat. It takes about the size of a third of a grain of rice of gluten to make me sick, so not only can I not eat anything with wheat, barley, rye or oats, but I can't eat anything that may have touched any of those grains. I can't use a wooden cutting board or spoon, because the wood may have absorbed some of the gluten and it would get on my food. I can't use a strainer that is used for pasta made with wheat. I can't use a sponge, because those get covered with gluten, too, so all dishes that have been touched with a sponge have to be washed in the dishwasher or with a fresh paper towel and soap. My reaction to gluten lasts about two weeks. A few times I got so dehydrated I went to the hospital, but it won't kill me. I could get cancer in my small intestine from so much damage, and that would kill me, but it wouldn't directly be celiac killing me"

It's much simpler to say that I am allergic to everything.

Oh, I'm allergic to eggs, too. But this is a more normal allergy.

I am NOT allergic to cats. Actually, I'm fairly certain that I am allergic to cats, but today I'd rather prove why I am not allergic to them.

I don't do well with antibiotics that end in -cillin, but I don't think that's a real allergy.

Cats.

Several weeks ago I got a cat's claw stuck in my left hand. I love animals - all of them - even the bugs that were having sex on my car this one time - so I see an animal and I go over to it. This particular cat was quite friendly. I was sitting on a sofa petting its stomach, and it was rolling around on its back. The cat was having fun playing, and batted at my hand with it's paw. The cat obviously hadn't had it's nails clipped. Claw went into my hand. It was long, and curving under due to it's length, so when I lifted my hand up, the cat came up with me. The cat removed it's claw from my hand and got up. I looked at my hand. It was red, and already a bit puffy. I felt a shooting pain go up my hand into my finger. I sanitized my hand. I iced my hand. I drove home using only one hand (my right hand, of course). I drove to and from church the next day with only my right hand. I iced my hand some more. I planned to call the doctor first thing on Monday morning, but I woke up and my hand was fine. (Sorry if that was a horrible ending - but it really happened that way)

In November I started coughing. By time it was Thanksgiving I was coughing quite a bit, so the day after Thanksgiving I decided to clean every inch of my bedroom. While vacuuming the dusty boxes under my bed I discovered some things under my bed that I hadn't planned on finding there - more cat hair than I thought my cat had on his body at any point in time AND moldy cat poop. Thank you, Robin Hood (thats my cat's name). "Aha", I thought, "That explains why I have been coughing. The cat stuck it's claw in me and that hurt. The cat hair/poop under my bed made me cough. I'm allergic to cats." I tested my theory by literally rubbing my face in my cat's fur. I had to wash my face right away, and coughed continually for about five minutes.

Yet I went to work on Monday - and I don't keep a cat at work - and the coughing just got worse, to the point where I couldn't speak, because I couldn't get air into my lungs. Ok, so I don't really know if air wasn't going into my lungs, but it felt like that. Despite my fear of being prescribed a -cillin medication, I called the doctor and scheduled an appointment.

"It's one of two things" she told me, and proceeded to list off three options.

Option 1 - A virus, that will go away in another week or two.

Option 2 - Asthma.

Option 3 - Heartburn.

I don't see cat allergy on that list! Ha!

My instructions were to wait a week or so and see if I feel better. If I do, it's a virus! If I don't feel better I should fill a prescription she gave me for an inhaler. If that works, I call and let her know and I get lots of refills for the inhaler - refills for life. If that fails, as well, I get to start taking an over-the-counter heartburn medicine - any one of my choosing. At this point, we really hope that works. If it doesn't work, well, who knows.

So, you see, while I may be "allergic to everything", I am clearly not allergic to cats. This means cats obviously are a figment of my imagination, or they would be included in the category "everything". And you can't be allergic to something imaginary, anyway.