Monday, October 5, 2009

In theory...

Hey! I found my blog again! My iMac got the computerized version of H1N1 and went the way of the ole trash bin (which is actually the trunk of my car--I still have the dead hard drive stuck under the seat). So, anyhoo, I lost my blog again and forgot about it until talking to a friend who is MUCH less likely to lose stuff and actually knows where her blog is at all times.

I thought my big comeback post should be about my new favorite phrase. Get ready for it...

"In theory..."

Such a great phrase. Gives an ironic sense of hope that things might actually work out, yet the mere use of the the phrase gives the connotation that you don't really think it will. It says, "I'm extraordinarily hopeful about this happening, but please don't count on it." Like, "Are you going to wake up in time for church tomorrow." Answer: "In theory." "Do you think that it's a good idea to get a full body wax?" Answer: "In theory."

It also works as a great statement. "In theory, you should have a new desk chair. However we work for an impoverished non-profit and must make do with the crust of bread that we are offered until we get our next grant."

Or even use it as the start to a question: "In theory, is mom going to buy us lame matching sweaters for Christmas again?" (The correct answer is, "Just make sure she knows how to get to the Amazon or Sephora wish list.").

Seriously. Try it out. It's quite freeing to answer questions in a way that frustrates the hell out of people, and yet still makes you feel like you answered something.

So, to close out this post: In theory, it won't be another 4 months before I post something new...

Saturday, July 18, 2009

I found it!

I am not known to be an organized person. In fact, it's quite the opposite.

Well, I lost my blog. Blogspot changed into Google-y-something and I couldn't find my password, etc. So I haven't posted in a long time. But, here I am again!

You would think by now I would have something interesting to say. (crickets.....)

In lieu of that, I'm posting a link to an extraordinary and eye-opening slideshow. This one contains of pictures of normal women, each with a description underneath the picture based on how their BMI categorizes them--underweight, normal, overweight, or obese. Check this out...

I'd really like to send it to every doctor I've had. Even when I was at my lightest (which I literally starved myself to get to when I was in high school), my BMI listed me as "obese". Now I'm off the charts, but I'm a lot less hung up on labels. Yup. I removed the tags from my pillows and everything ("under penalty of law").

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

What's the opposite of being "handy"?

You know those people that can see something broken and know how to fix it right away? Those who are not completely flummoxed by loose wires, whining water pipes, or wobbly chairs?

Yeah...I'm not one of them.

Not only am I not mechanically inclined, I actually have the tendency to break--nay, destroy--things normally unbreakable. If something in my bathroom stops working, like the toilet won't flush, or the shower door doesn't close right, I just use the other bathroom until The Dad and his infamous toolbelt come visit. I've actually had friends cringe when I pick up a tool. Sample conversation with a friend:
Friend: "Hand me a phillips head screwdriver."
Me: " that the one with the plus-shaped tip, or the minus-shaped tip?
Friend (sighing in frustration): "Just hand me that one."
Me: "Ooooh. It's shiny! Where's my lipgloss?"

Like I said, I'm not handy.

Knowing this, it may surprise you to know that I'm the Facilities Manager for my company. I know I was surprised when I found out, because I was hired as an HR Generalist, for which I have education, training, and natural communication skills. I knew the job wrapped in a few building things when I got hired, like being the general complaint department when something breaks, or finding someone a new chair. But when I took the job it didn't occur to me that: 1. The building is really old, 2. My company is a non-profit and can't afford a lot of building upgrades, 3. That there is no Facility Manager, that my title says "Generalist", and that sneaky line in my job description "other duties as assigned."

But plucky gal that I am, and wanting to impress my new employer, I made a good show of it. I learned how the fire alarm system could be turned off. I hired an electrician. I even occasionally went to the boiler room (only to inevitably return with bruises from tripping on my feet or bumping into a valve or something). I figured an air of enthusiasm and a good list of vendors would see me through. Until this week.

Our elevator went down and needed a new motor. Elevator guys replaced the motor, but the electric was shot. Called the electrical guys, who fixed the fuse thingie and told me that infrared testing found hotspots in the electrical wires and would need to be replaced. The windows started leaking from all the rain. The fire panel wouldn't connect to the power source and was sending false alarms (for which we get charged). The automatic toilet on the 2nd floor wouldn't flush. One of the desks on the 2nd floor was falling off the wall. There was a throwdown over who would get a whiteboard in their office. And through it all I would just shrug and call someone else, hoping they could figure it out for me.

Then, the gods smiled on me in pity and our CEO decided that IT should be responsible for the building systems instead of me.

Best. Day. Ever.

It is quite humbling for someone who graduated Summa Cum Laude for her BA, got her MA before turning 24, and followed up with her professional HR certificate to stand in front of an enormous piece of equipment that isn't working and know that there isn't a damn thing she can do by herself to get it running again. I know the definition for "sequicentennial," can wax poetic about communicative praxis, and kick butt at Trivial Pursuit, but I don't know what a phillips-head screwdriver is (is it )

Sunday, May 31, 2009

The best-laid plans...

I had a plan today:
8:30: Weight Watchers meeting
9:30: Go grocery shopping armed with my food plan.
10:30: Swing by the pharmacy on the way home to pick up a prescription
Afternoon: Cleaning my kitchen and poaching chicken for the upcoming week's healthy meals.
Evening: Go to dinner with my friend A.

Yeah. Here's what really happened:

7:30: Wake up enough to realize that my alarm has been going off for a while. Hit snooze.
7:39: Why the hell do alarm clock companies think that 9 minutes=snoozing? 'Cause it doesn't. Roll over and hit "off"
8:30: Wake to the Beast's paw on my forehead. Look at clock and realize that there was no time-space continuum that existed in any dimension that would get me to the Weight Watchers meeting on time. Push away beast and roll over.
8:35: Half-asleep still, I wonder if I should try to go to church? I am, after all, trying to find a way to expand my social life and become more actualized. I sit up to think of a plan.
8:47: Realize with a start that although I had sat up, I fell asleep sitting on the side of the bed. Realize this because I very nearly fell off the bed. Decide that if I'm falling asleep sitting up that I'm too tired for church and lay back down. Abstractly notice that my seated upright snooze was about 9 minutes.
10:50: Have to pee. Go to bathroom. Fall asleep on toilet.
11:10: Wake up by almost falling off toilet. Look at clock and note that HA! I may have snoozed, but it was for about 20 minutes, not 9. Take that, alarm clock makers! Collect myself enough to go take my pills and drink some cold water to help wake me up.
11:15: Decided that I'd already screwed up my plan for the day, and that maybe leaving the house wasn't in the cards for me. Settled in to watch old DVR shows and visit Facebook.
2:00: Ate leftovers. Realize this is an improvement from last Sunday, when I at old microwaved popcorn for lunch because I didn't have any food in the house. (That's right, I didn't go grocery shopping that day either). Continue on the path of DVR clean up.
5:30: Spoke to A., who couldn't make it for dinner. Decide to order pizza.
5:45: Realize that I hadn't showered today, so ran to get a quick shower before pizza delivery person could get here and judge me on my greasy hair and poor nutritional habits.
6:30: Lengthy conversation with The Mom, until pizza arrived.
7:30-rest of evening: Ate pizza, watched movie, went on line, blah blah blah.

I think I could use this example in a gameshow I like to call, Single or Chronically Depressed? (where contestant have to decide which type of person this schedule belonged to.)

Sometimes it is really fun to throw all of your plans out of the window and express your freedom from others by doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING all day, because no one is there to tell you to shower and take out the trash. And sometimes it's just a wasted day, and I have to shrug it off and vow to do better next Sunday.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

The Maiden Voyage

Anyone who knows me knows I have a lot to say...about everything. My blessing and curse is that I have an innate sense of diplomacy and tact, preventing some of the more interesting strangeness in my head from making it out into the real world. After all, I might hurt someone's feelings. We can't have that. I was raised right, my friends.

So what do I do instead? Why, publish my inner thoughts where anyone in the world can see them, of course! Yeah, it doesn't make much sense to me either.

But I've recently found that I'm on the edge of something that needs to be acknowledged, pondered, challenged, and written down. It's a shifting of some kind. I don't know what or why, but I know that the status quo is no longer content with me crashing on its couch. As much as I like the comfy cocoon of my daily routine (you know--get up, go to work, go home, eat dinner, surf net, watch TV, go to bed, repeat) I feel something else might be in order. That maybe there is the possibility of more. More of what, I don't know for sure. Maybe that there should be more of the word "live" in how I'm living.

Have you ever looked back on your life and see the crossroads? The times of your life where you consciously chose to make a turn and start in a new direction? Well, when it comes to my personal life and inner growth I've toed the straight line for at least a decade. No serious relationships, no marriage, no kids, and a shrinking social circle as those around me turn off on their own path. And as time went on it became easier and more natural to shut down, to avoid, to withdraw. You don't get your heart broken if you don't give it away. You don't fail if you never try. I didn't notice that with each passing year I was not only letting the doors of possibility close--I was shutting them myself.

And then I started journaling as a result of a class at work. I always resisted journaling: 1) Because I hated the idea of putting my craziness on paper and making it permanent, 2) Because I would re-read things I'd written and hate on it, and 3) Because if I died in a freak accident other people would read it and criticize me post-mortem. Ugh. But since it felt a little like a work assignment I bravely put pen to paper and found, to my surprise, that I started to notice my life again.

Which brings us to this blog. Because not only does a blog put you through the eye-opening creative process, but it also forces you outside yourself. A two-for-one mechanism of change. Change that I think I need.

So here I am, scribbling my thoughts into life's margin. I don't intend that every entry will be deep, thought-provoking stuff. Sometimes it might be an observation highlighting the funny strangeness that is part of life. Sometimes I just want to bitch about paying the bills, or share a recipe, or give a shout-out to my peeps. Whatever. It's the process of writing and sharing that I'm hoping will crack the door and let in the light.

So, lets metaphorically break the champagne bottle on this baby, and send Scribbling in the Margin onto its maiden voyage.