It's Because My Job is Making me Crazy with Last Minute Deadlines

Last night I had a dream that J and I were getting married.

The whole thing was completely disorganized and had been slapped together at the last minute. I remember that I kept saying to myself, "SHIT, if only I had had more time! I would have thought of this!" (This being any number of things from the dinner to the location to the invitations, and if I remember correctly, we'd been engaged for a while...or were embarrassingly stupid enough to think we could plan a wedding in a day?) I think the worst part was the invitations, which ended up being printed the day of, and even though the wedding was happening that evening, we were still using a laser printer at home so that "at least people would have something to remember it by." (Who? Since no one was invited...I don't know who was coming...)

My dress was something hideous that was borrowed at the last minute, and the ceremony+reception were being held in the basement of an old used bookstore (any poetic notions about that were blasted when I saw the cast iron spiral staircase with slap-shod blue carpeting that led down to the basement, which was equally dingy, leaky, and poorly lit).

The whole thing was a nightmare, but through everything, I just wanted to get it over with because the important part was that J and I were together - I didn't care about the wedding.

I woke up and went to therapy. Not only did I not get what I needed out of my session, but instead of deciding that my suggestion of once every other week was fine, we figured that in reality, I probably should ramp it up to twice a week (as if. Hello - I need to have a life, too. I can't just spend my life being in therapy and working my shitty day job, then recovering from therapy and my shitty day job every day). I left feeling like I kind of wished that I could go no times a week, hating that my therapist knows things about me that even I don't want to know about me. Yes, that is the point, thanks. I left kind of wanting to smack some hypothetical someone in the teeth.

I'm unreasonably angry with myself about being myself, and I'm also kind of pissed that I have to be at work non-stop for the next two days. This is why Wednesday is going to be a beach day. Unless it rains, in which case it will be screen print some arts for my walls day. Either way, by then I hope to no longer be hating myself.

For My Fellow Bike Commuters

Dear Cyclist-Who-Thought-He-Almost-Got-Hit-By-A-Car-This-Morning:

That car had its turn signal on long before you approached the light, and the light turned green just as you approached his blind-spot. I know, I know - you were in the bike lane, which naturally means that all those mean-old cars have got to stop for you, even when you're not biking defensively* or paying attention to anything, which is why you yelled at him, I presume. God - that motorist was such an asshole. Except...wait...he didn't even honk at you!
*(See Collision Type #3)

I noticed that you had the decency to seem embarrassed when I yelled that you should pay attention, and that the guy had his turn signal on. I probably shouldn't have called you an idiot, though.


Dear People Who Got Tickets After Running The Red Light on Hampshire and Broadway:

I'm sorry. I totally empathize, because it's happened to me before, and half of you did check for cars, although you managed to somehow miss the bike cops (who were positioned in the middle of the bike lane)...but who am I to judge.

I do not, however, empathize with the guy who got exasperated with me for waiting at the red light and ran it even after I said, maybe with not enough conviction, that there were cops ahead. You, sir, definitely deserved that ticket. Perhaps, though, it was a little mean-spirited for me to shout "HAVE FUN WITH THAT" just before the cop held his hand up in your face and pulled you over.

But three cheers to the Cambridge Bike Cops. Thanks for finally starting to do your jobs (for the most part...well...it's a start).

I was reading stories about the bicyclist who was struck and killed by a trash truck in D.C. on Tuesday, and while wading through all the comments on the WP story about drivers vs. "asshole bicyclists", I saw this:

No, the stories about bikers who choose to run red lights aren’t irrelevant. Someone has placed a bike spray painted white at the intersection of Connecticut and R as a memorial to Ms. Swanson. This morning, as I sat in my car on R St. at a red light during rush hour, I watched as a young woman pulled up right next to the white bike. She appeared to be in her twenties, and was wearing a helmet. Having seen the aftermath of yesterday’s tragedy, I wondered if she knew what had happened just 24 hours earlier, at that very spot. Just as I pondered that thought, she glanced quickly in both directions, then rode across all six lanes of Connecticut, rather than wait the extra 30 seconds for the light. Yesterday’s horrible accident may have been entirely the truck driver’s fault, but bikers and drivers alike can do much to improve safety on our streets.

Let me tell you, lady, I will bet you money that this girl was perfectly aware of what had just happened in that intersection, was probably scared shitless to be on her bike at that moment, and used the "extra 30 seconds" to put herself ahead of traffic - which is actually a smart way to ensure you won't be wedged in by the cars waiting at the light with you - provided, of course, you check that all six lanes (omg, so many lanes) of traffic are clear before you go. I get a kick out of the philosophical pondering regarding this girl's safety, when the cyclist likely did make the decision, not out of haste to reach her destination, but out of a desire to not get taken over by a car.

I've gotten a citation for running a red light on my bike before. I admit, fully and freely, that I deserved it, but where are these damn cops when cars are parked in the bike lane? When people are riding their bikes on the sidewalks? Where's the city funding for cops who actually do their jobs? Since that citation, would I run a red light again? You betcha. Especially with the frequency that people use their turn signals out here. It's just safer, sometimes. It's sad that it takes stories like this to make me sit back and think about how recklessly I ride, but with every one I read I try to take a little bit of knowledge away, and hopefully will be more conscientious (and alive) for it.

By the way, the nicest thing a cop has ever done for me in my life, ever, was force a car to remove itself from the bike lane when he saw me coming up the road - I seriously wanted to make out with him for that.

P.S. - the "white bike" she was referring to was a ghost bike.

Seems like a fair price to me!

How much would you pay for the luxury to not give a crap about something?

Yesterday, at work, we were given the numbers for the bonuses we will be getting at the end of the week. We recently switched to a Performance Based Compensation plan that involves all kinds of ratings and algorithms and numbers. It's kind of cool, actually, since I tend to prefer numbers (because I went to MIT or why I went to MIT...the eternal question).

Yesterday, one of my coworkers came over and asked (aggressively? Am I projecting?) whether they had messed up one of my numbers, because they seemed to have messed with hers. In the previous round of bonuses, they had screwed up some input or another and instead of fixing it then, they promised it would be fixed in the future.

She stood over my shoulder and watched as I opened my spreadsheet (I had not checked it before she came over - the reality is that I forgot that this spreadsheet is downloaded as a one page PDF, and our bonuses are right there in a bright yellow box, which the eye is immediately drawn to on our great big 19" monitors). She saw my bonus, then pulled a printed copy of her own out of her pocket, opened it a sliver, and said, "Nope, they didn't screw yours up, just mine," and walked away.

Fortunately, paper is not opaque when it's lit from behind, or I wouldn't know that she made a whopping $300 more than me - the cost of not passing the LEED exam. She did not get paid more than me based on merit, or because she's more awesome or pretty or better than me in any other way than she studied her ass off, gave up her life for a while, and passed an exam. We've already been through how I felt about not passing, and how I spent all of seven hours studying, and I knew that my bonus would be the consequence. Were she actually a friend, she would have at the very least looked away when I opened that file, but because she doesn't care about other people, it's completely beyond her comprehension not to be an asshole (otherwise in an ideal world, she would have shown me hers, too, because I honestly don't mind sharing these things with friends (I should have seen the whole thing coming, since it was barreling at me like an freight train)). I've known this about her for a while; It's not her fault I'm so damn gullible.

So, against my will, I started justifying the whole thing in my head last night; not because I need anything to change, but because I needed to feel better about the fact that she is a jerk. I know for a fact that when I started, I was paid more than another one of our co-workers, presumably because I graduated from MIT and, even though it is from an accredited university and they have worked here for three years (one year longer than me), their degree is from a less prestigious school. More people may have heard of her school, but it's still not MIT - and she has one year less work experience. I wouldn't normally think about these things so much, because I'm perfectly content with what I make relative to the market these days, but she annoyed me yesterday, and so I started rationalizing that she should go ahead and be happy with that $300, because I'm 89% certain it's absorbed into my slightly higher paycheck. Plus, I can always pass the exam at the end of the summer, if I decide I want to waste two weeks of my free time. I know she only feels she has to make other people feel badly about themselves so she can soothe her non-existent self esteem. Knowing that doesn't make me want to punch her any less.

So. I suppose that $300 is the cost of not giving a shit around these parts. Reasonable?

Weekend Bike Fun

On Sunday, Aaron, J and I took the commuter rail out to Ipswich for some fried clams. I did not have fried clams, but I did try one, threw up in my mouth a little bit, and remembered why I generally stay away from seafood. We went to Woodman's in Essex, and I would go there again in a heartbeat for some more of those onion rings. Mmmm.



After eating our own weight in fried food, we zipped off to catch the 7:51 pm commuter rail back to Boston. Unfortunately, J blew a tire on the way, and had to stop to change it. Aaron rode back to help him after riding the rest of the way to the station with me, where I waited.



A half hour and the train went by and there was still no sign of the boys. I was reminded of how awful life was back in the '90s - when people had no cell phones.

That's right - on a highway bike ride out in the middle of Rural Anywhere, MA, I forgot my cell phone. All I could imagine was that one of them had been overtaken by a drunk or negligent driver, and the other was frantically calling my cell phone while they waited for the paramedics to arrive, blood everywhere. It became so unbearable that after about 40 minutes of waiting for what, in perfect circumstances, might have been a 20 minute tire change, I borrowed a local teenager's cell phone. Fortunately, no one had been run over or doored, but Aaron's tire had also gone flat. There was blood, but it was from mosquitoes and not from a mangled car accident.

Silly me.

We ended up watching the Celtics game at a bar while we waited for the 10:20 pm commuter rail, and polished off a bottle of wine in the process. While I wouldn't have actively chosen to be out as late as we were, and blown tires are never fun, it was actually a successful bike ride - and we will be taking the commuter rail out of the city more often.

The Other Boleyn Girl (i.e. the Stupid American Version of the Story)

This weekend J and I watched The Other Boleyn Girl. To get the awful taste out of our mouths, we also finally watched Gone Baby Gone. I recommend Gone Baby Gone if, like us, you are the last people on earth not to have seen it. But right now I have to gripe about the Other Boleyn Girl.

As someone obsessed very interested in Tudor England, I have read enough on the subject to know the basic plot-line. Especially regarding Henry VIII and his various wives. Yes, a lot of my "research" has been in the form of historical fiction, but I promise that I do my share of non-fiction reading as well.

The only [moderately] appropriately cast character was Scarlett Johansson. Natalie Portman is no Anne Boleyn, and the only thing Eric Bana has going for him as Henry VIII is his girth (comparing him to Jonathan Rhys Meyers, anyway). And going into it, I figured I would be bothered by the casting, but it turned out that the casting was the least of my concerns.

However, in the interest of time, I need to get off my chest the one thing that bothered me enough to warrant a blog post and ban further discussion of this crap in my house. I am referring to the scene where the Boleyn/Howard group is sitting down at the table, and someone mentions, in abject horror how their plot would mean that the king would break from the church. Oh My God! Break from the church?! Insert horrified face, here.

Jesus Christ. That's the whole POINT, isn't it? One of the political benefits of having a Boleyn on the throne was to reform the church, and they're not even portrayed as Reformists? Anne herself is known to have shared Reformist literature with the king. It's a good thing we don't have bricks in the house, because that's when one would have hit the TV.

The book took a lot of liberties that, while entertaining, were at least plausible - this movie didn't even attempt to pretend to know anything about anything - and what's more, they didn't even show any boobies, which is the only way I could convince J to watch this movie with me; we figured with Johansson and Portman, there'd be at least one far-fetched, stupidly inaccurate lesbian scene. I mean, I'm angry. We're talking exponentially worse than Everything is Illuminated, which at the very least stands on its own as a movie, and has a stellar cast.

Also, if I see another brown haired, dark eyed Spanish "beauty" playing Queen Katherine...I will be writing an angry letter to someone.

In other words, things are going well

Last night, J got me an air conditioner. He may as well have given me a ring.

This morning, I told him that I was thinking about getting table runners for the kitchen table instead of place mats. He looked at me and said, "okay."

Yes, there has been a period of adjustment, and yes, there have been a few incidents over some things like closet space and beds and my pile of clothes...but how can I not be totally head over heels for this guy?

We're slowly making it a home.

Photo a Day Challenge

This sounds like an incredible motivational tool to start using my fantastic Rebel XTi more often.

I am frequently frustrated with the quality of my photos, but it's almost as though I know exactly what I could have been doing right...only I didn't. The only way to improve is to take more photos, and I keep *almost* being "the person with the camera," but I'm not quite there yet (I am known as "the Polaroid girl," but that's another story).

There are a bunch of great shots I want around my new neighborhood, so I think I'm going to start there. It's J's "old" neighborhood, and I already have a few picked out from all those times I walked to his place. I think this is going to require a bit more thought, though.

Unprofessional, Like all the Kids These Days

I went to my orthodontist yesterday to get the "news" on my post-surgical braces status. Several things went wrong.

I am seeing a student at the Harvard School of Dental Medicine. I started going there as a patient in 2004 - when this whole orthodontic debacle began. Since 2004, I have had 4 different orthodontists. Well, three if you consider that I have only met this fourth one once, at an appointment with my previous guy.

I have always gotten lucky with the students I've been assigned, and I am still under the same faculty adviser, so regardless of the student, my broader treatment plan will stay the same.

Unfortunately, yesterday I had to see a student that was not my regular orthodontist. Nor was my faculty adviser there - none of the people who have met me before or are familiar with my case were there. Instead, I had to see a faculty member who is not familiar with surgical cases (not just mine! ANY!), and who hadn't even seen my chart before he met me (I don't think the student had, either, but that's just one of the many nuts on this sundae).

My original appointment was scheduled for last Friday, but it was canceled, presumably because "the clinic was closed," so my new guy called to re-schedule for this Wednesday.

Because I am so close to having these braces off, the plan was to get me in as soon as possible - I guess my next appointment couldn't be until late June, which is kind of when we want to start getting on this whole retainer business - and get me the fuck out of these godforsaken braces, so no appointment before then was kind of not an option in my book. I think he gets that.

What he evidently DOES NOT GET is that if I am not going to be seeing HIM or anyone else who has dealt with my case in ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM - maybe a PHONE CALL WOULD BE NICE.

We are no less than one hour into our acquaintance, and the words "Unprofessional" and "Asshole" have already crossed my mind multiple times.

Also, the guy I saw gave me a new upper wire, so my teeth are moving - PAINFULLY. They'd better be moving in the right direction, too, because at my next appointment this kid is already going to get a big damn lecture from me on professionalism and how I do not like him very much, yet.

Deer Island Bike Ride

J and I went for a bike ride today. It felt nice to be out, and it's not humid enough for riding in the middle of the day to be miserable. Here's the route we took:

That little loop between markers 22 and 28 is the little "detour" we took when we turned right instead of turning left. It was a nice detour - took us right through a Jewish cemetery, which was really beautiful. It was also a hilly detour, unfortunately. 30 miles or so in total.

Boycott Starbucks? Well, Now I Don't Want To.

Starbucks Logo Under Fire

According to the post, "A Christian group based in San Diego called The Resistance says the logo looks like a naked woman with her legs spread like a prostitute."

Well...thanks. Now it does.

How hypocritical funny is it that a group with higher moral standards than "the rest of us," is even capable of seeing something so profane in a harmless image? It speaks worlds to me about the inner workings of their minds. In response to the lewd picture on Starbucks' temporary new label, they are calling for a national boycott of all Starbucks.

Now, I do think that there are loads of other, more important reasons to boycott Starbucks, but I'm feeling oddly torn. While I do buy the occasional latte or coffee from Starbucks, I prefer to support local coffeehouses - and while it has more to do with personal preference than making a stand, I certainly feel a slight tingle of ethical superiority whenever I walk out of 1369. Sure, sometimes I walk out of Starbucks thinking about how reprehensible it is to support a "big corporation" instead of my little local house, but mostly I think about how much the caffeine is going to help me get through the rest of my miserable day (I usually only purchase on particularly bad days at work).

So if you'll excuse me, now, I'm going to go out and buy a venti caramel mochaccino, to show my support for real-sized whorish mermaids with half-exposed breasts.

Because I Heart Science, That's Why

Last night J and I were watching How It's Made, the one where they describe the process of making wheel loaders (Season 3 Episode 3).

Me: *starts laughing hysterically*
J: ...did that wheel loader just get bukkake tsunamied?
Me: *continues to laugh hysterically*

We both love learning about technology. Especially technology that ejaculates lubricant. It combines our love of science with our love of being twelve.

An Open Letter to the Woman Whose Day I Ruined

Dear Probably-Otherwise-Law-Abiding-Citizen who maybe recycles and, I'm guessing, totally loves puppies:

Today, when you made that right turn onto Highland while I was in the crosswalk, and I pointed at the walk sign after you hesitated, tried to keep going, then finally decided not to hit me with your SUV, you were in the wrong. I only say this to educate you because you felt the need to [incorrectly] educate me.

See, the lights at this street - as at many others - turn yellow, then red. The typical protocol for such an event would be to slow down, and then stop your car (or floor it to beat the yellow, yes, I know you do it. I do it, too). Yelling that you "can't see it," referring to my walk light...well, that was just ridiculous. See, I know you can't see my walk light, the one that's perpendicular to your line of vision? - that's why I rely on the traffic light - the red one - to let you know that, okay, you need to stop now. Not because there's a pedestrian in the crosswalk, which I happen to think is a perfectly valid reason to stop, but because stopping at a red light is the fucking LAW.

When you tried to justify your law-breaking reckless idiotic driving, I flipped you off because a)I almost got run over by your car while I had the legitimate, carefully thought out right-of-way - I was in the MIDDLE of the street when you turned, and b) shut the hell up, lady - if I wanted to hear about why you almost hit me, I'd have stopped in front of your car and asked.

I'm going to let bygones be bygones, though because you made me laugh - hysterically, actually. I absolutely loved your parting shot of, "Oh! Just....Just...GO BACK TO YOUR COUNTRY." Like the time the SUV driver called me a "Jew," and I wondered why he felt the need to guess at my ethnicity/religious preference to form an insult, I have to wonder how and why you think I wasn't born and raised here.

Probably because I wasn't driving an SUV like a Masshole.

But anyway, thanks for making me laugh. I know I shouldn't be really happy that I totally ruined your day, but...well, I am. Hope you don't mow down any pedestrians on your way home.

Love,
me

Two Months

Tuesday marks the two month "anniversary" of my surgery. Eight weeks will have gone by, and even though there's still numbness, even though I can't chew everything I'd like to - I like to think that the worst of it is behind me.

I've already said how little the cosmetic side of this surgery played into my decision, but today I took some progress shots (missed week 6 due to puffiness and week 7 due to blurry camera syndrome), and I am really happy with how much softer I look:

Here's a before shot for comparison:

My orthodontist told me I looked "younger" when he first saw me. Now, I think that's way harsh (just kidding), but he's right. I do look different, and probably for the best. The thing is, now you can see my braces even more than before - so next step is to get those bad boys off my teeth. Like, now.

A Day of Chairs

Since I'm moving out of my old apartment, I've started assessing my needs versus my wants in terms of...erm, shall we say, crap I own. Some of the crap is very very necessary - I need it to live. Things like my CD collection or my box of matches, or a rather large accumulation of pens.

J is, in contrast, a minimalist. He's coming into this apartment with what I consider the bare necessities (and believe me, he's going to act all aghast by how much stuff he has, you wait and see). Furniture. Clothes. A computer. The bare minimum.

Lately, mostly to avoid going through my matchbook collection, I've been complaining about my honking big leather office chair. It's comfortable, and at $30 second-hand, it gets the job done. Or it used to. This chair has served me well for over 4 years now, but the time came to finally get rid of it - partially because there's barely enough space for it in my room now, and the new space is going to be exponentially smaller. Mostly because I found this chair on sale at Target:

Today, I convinced J to go to a yard sale with me, and along with a muffin pan, for a grand total of $5, we picked up these:

So many chairs. So much awesome.

Bike New York Ride

J and I participated in the Five Boro Bike Tour this past weekend. The ride itself was exhilarating and very, very cool. We started at Battery Park, rode up through Manhattan, over to Astoria and Queens, down through Brooklyn, and finally out to Staten Island. We took the ferry back to Battery Park, and then we rode back to Brooklyn (although we walked a lot of the way once we got over the bridge).





The things we saw during this race...they will stay with me forever. Firstly, and most significantly, we saw someone get maced. While we were waiting in an enormously long queue to get into Central Park (made infinitely worse by the sidewalk jumpers. You know who you are. Each and every one of you is going straight to hell, I hope you know), some homeless guy started causing a ruckus. We didn't personally notice anything until he slammed his cane down onto a car and started screaming nonsense at one of the cyclists. A cop came out of nowhere and nonchalantly maced the guy in the face. I would have been screaming my lungs out, but the homeless guy just leaned over on a nearby railing - defeated. I don't have any social or political commentary about it, I just have never seen anything like this. Then some mentally disturbed and presumably homeless woman started screaming things about cops and homeless people, but it was impossible to tell whether her rage was directed at the homeless guy or the cop. Thankfully, we made it into Central Park unscathed, shortly after she started her screaming rant.

There were several accidents. Whenever there was a ramp and a turn, people would take the turns too quickly, and there were one or two of those. Honestly, I have never seen such blatant disregard for other cyclists, and I have a pretty rough commute (relatively, I mean). There was also a nearly fatal heart attack on the Queensboro bridge, but fortunately, the man made it. It was decently scary, and did not help to ease the anxiety I was already facing when going over two of the major bridges.

A lot of people have noted that this is a great ride to do. Once. Which is what the friend who recommended this ride told us, too.

That being said - in total, it was an amazing ride. Too many people, but riding through NYC (and vowing never to go to that dump again) without any cars was too good an opportunity to miss.

Too bad my jaw is a wreck two days later (my surgeon said I should be good to go as far as riding my bike went, but a little bit of research and a conversation with my OD has indicated that maybe 50 miles was a bit much before my 3 month post surgery mark...).

Rage is a four letter word

I am now five weeks (plus) post-op. To be honest, I thought that after about a month I would be a little bit happier. Things I am actually very happy about involve having the surgery itself out of the way, and knowing that because I was the "optimal" age, the recovery (and braces!) will be over sooner rather than later. Unfortunately it only gets me so far.

There has been a rage inside of me for the past week. Something indescribable and ugly. Something hideous and so unlike "me," it's hard to watch.

Things that may have contributed are the fact that J was gone for two weeks. He was gone, and he was working hard and he was stressed. He was stressed and I missed him tremendously by the second week, and it was not a good combination. I may have had some conflict with certain people in my life - things that normally I am capable of pushing beneath the surface and airing at therapy - things between me and someone I actually like. It left me tired and vulnerable, and I was incapable of dealing with other people in my life that I don't like, but can typically interact with using a modicum of friendliness. I'm puffy and swollen again, and I'm sick and tired of having a "broken" face; sick and tired of not being able to eat real food. I'm feeling better about the whole "I'm going to be beaten, gang-raped, or hit by a car" thing, but "better" is relative, obviously.

In short, I am feeling off. My roommate can sense that I've been off (even though she's been working a lot), and even if J is too stressed to notice all of it, we've discussed it. I haven't been able to call home in over a week because I just can't deal with it.

Is it the medication? The rage I've been feeling has been absolutely apoplectic, and it makes me remember my very second psychiatric evaluation when I was prescribed this medication. One of the side effects, my psychiatrist said, was blinding rage. He told me how one of his patients described how she suddenly found herself screaming at cars as they went by because they were making her angry. Because they were driving by. That's how I've been feeling this week - except I'm muttering angry things at people on the streets instead of screaming at cars. But I firmly believe that's next.

The troubling part is how I've been on this medication for a year now. How I haven't changed doses. How, while I missed a few pills while I was immediately post-op*, I haven't missed any in weeks. (*several doctors and nurses told me it was okay because the drug is slow release, and builds up in the system enough to skip one or two)

If it is my medication, I have a lot to think about. I was prescribed these meds specifically because I'm young and my depression is mild. The sexual side effects are rare, which was genuinely the biggest concern at the time, but a new medication would mean a new round of "adjustment," which is currently more daunting than facing another week of this.

I feel empty inside, and I want to feel whole again, like I have in the past three months. I've been riding it out for a week, and I'm coming up with nothing. My biggest problem in the past was believing that if I dug deeply enough, I would find the answers within - but that only made deeper wounds. This time I want to be stronger than that. I want to admit that I need help. Why is it so hard to be okay with that?

Tokyo Police Club @ Paradise Rock Club

So I did end up going to the Tokyo Police Club show, after all. I had to leave early because my jaw was hurting, my feet were sore, and I was exhausted (I would say I'm old, but I'm "recovering from surgery," people. Seriously). I was out of pain medication (and by that, I mean ibuprofen; all I'm taking these days), and the thought of dealing with jaw pain plus having to find a cab, plus being afraid of being mugged/stabbed/raped if I tried to walk home (I should talk to my therapist about this fear: it's very real and exaggerated and probably not entirely normal), I decided to leave in time to catch the T.

All of my issues aside, this concert was great, and I had a front row view standing between a really cute couple that had been dating for 2 years and five months, and a girl who kept giving me the death stare. I think she thought I was going to invade her space, so I went ahead and did, at least with my camera lens.

These guys never disappoint and the opening acts were also stupendously awesome. Meligrove Band opened with their rockin' Canadian sound - they were exactly the type of band I'd expect to open for TPC and their banter was amusing.

After Meligrove, I was completely blown away by Smoosh. Like everyone else there, I had previously heard their cover of Bloc Party's "This Modern Love," and when they played it, I was in heaven - but their entire set was amazing. These girls are incredibly talented and beautiful, and they drew me in from the first beat to the end of the last song. The drummer, Chloe, rocked out like she was part of that drum set, with a blue halo around her the whole time. Asya's voice was so beautiful, I think she replaced Karen O as the female vocalist I would give my left arm to be.

Then, Tokyo Police Club came out. Graham had his back to me the whole time, so I didn't get to watch him very much, but my view of the other three was pretty darn good:

Their new album, Elephant Shell, came out this week - and it is really good. Decidedly more polished than their original sound, but it definitely still has the raw feeling to it that made me fall in love with them. Plus, they're fucking adorable. And I want to have their babies.

Minutiae Mashup

Things that have happened this week that were probably blog-worthy, but I didn't blog about:

Sunday I rode my bike for the first time this season (to work...and then back home...seven hours later). There are so many muscles I use to ride my bike and, let me tell you, most of them aren't anywhere near my legs! Ouch. Riding has improved vastly since then - the two other times, I mean.

On Tuesday, I had dinner with my friend, Matt. Matt is going to Northeastern, he works at the Boston Globe, and he "freelances" at Tomb. In short, he is an interesting guy. He was supposed to go to a Tokyo Police Club show with me this week, but in an unsurprising display of stupidity I have him the wrong date (Tuesday), so we had dinner, instead. I heart Border Cafe.

Wednesday morning, there were cops outside of my windows. So, there is a set of condos that went up next door to us recently. They've been done with construction for about seven months now, and already the yuppie couple in the top unit has moved out. We assumed that this had something to do with some neighborhood gossip about the husband in one of the couples being wasted out of his mind at the end of our block one night. Another neighbor found him and walked him (more like dragged him) home. But three cop cars? Either both of those completely normal looking yuppie couples were crazy or the other couple moved out because of the crazy in the lower unit. There's also some Rock Band going on over there. I know. I've heard it. To further confuse us, my roommate attests to witnessing some naked peeing off the balcony, but that was the top unit - so see what I mean?

I decided to sell the tickets to that TPC show on Craigslist. Then I decided to go. Then I decided to sell only one ticket. This all worked out, but from point a to point b was kind of stressful and crazy. However, it all worked out - the end.

J has been out of town for essentially two weeks now. He flew to New Mexico last week on Tuesday morning (5AM - who drove him to the airport thank you very much?) then came back in on Friday night. We celebrated one of my friends' birthdays on Saturday, then he flew out to Arizona early on Sunday morning. I should be glad I got to see him on Saturday, but two weeks is a seriously long time. I might be complaining, but that would be unbecoming, so let's just say I'm stating...

...In the meantime, I have watched a lot of bad TV that he won't typically put up with and I have started "packing," which means that I have taken stuff out of places and am trying to decide whether or not to keep it. "Packing" looks a whole lot like "dumping out every single one of my drawers and then not cleaning up."

I should be better about updating this thing.

Apartment Hunting

Did you know that the average person will live in ten places over the course of their lifetime? I believe it - this new apartment will be my fifth, and three out of those five times I have had to deal with Craigslist. Craigslist and realtors.

I'm moving on June 1st. And so is J. We found the new place fairly quickly - with relatively low stress. And yeah, that freaked us the hell out, because we expected to have to jump through more hoops. To be honest, I've always been lucky enough when it comes to apartments, but not without hard work, and this time there was hard work, but it was concentrated, and we got it over with kind of quickly. I'm kind of sad to be moving, but I'm also so ready for the next stage in my life.

After seeing quite a few places that were really sub-par, J and I found a total hipster apartment with hardwood floors and a newly updated kitchen in one of the trendier, younger neighborhoods in Cambridge. The second bedroom is really small, but who cares?! We just need the one, anyway. The thing is, we walked away excited, but not sure. There were two places we could manage to live in out of six that we'd seen that day, but neither of us had that feeling in the bottom of our gut.

We ended up taking the apartment after deliberating for an entire night. We decided because we both felt that our previous apartments were miracles from heaven that we were probably putting them on a pedestal, and we were probably never going to have that feeling at our navels. Nowhere was going to be as cheap as either of our places and still have the same standard of living - but neither of us was willing to be "the roommate" that said "get out of here" to our roommates, and also, J was unwilling to live in the 'ville. Do you know how much of his life he owes me for making me move back to Cambridge? A lot.

We are going to make this place look so boss. I'm excited. About everything but the Cambridge thing.

Queen of Wishy-Washiness

I signed up for a screen printing class yesterday. It is one session, from 4-6PM on April 26th, and I am looking forward to it. At first I wasn't sure if I wanted to do it...$35 is cheap for a class, but couldn't I put that money towards a kit, instead, and learn how to do it myself? But then I considered how long I've been telling myself that I'm going to do that, with no results.

I've been thinking about actually listing stuff in my etsy store. I am the queen of no follow through. But then again, I did sign up for this class. So maybe I can trade in my title for "queen of procrastination," instead.

Finally. Six Days Post-Op.

I (finally. FINALLY) had my jaw surgery last Tuesday. I am six days post-op, and I'm feeling much better now. I think I may even be able to stay awake all day, although I won't be running any marathons any time soon.

The constant grogginess and crankiness is something I'm looking forward to living without. I think that I have kept a very positive attitude about the surgery and the recovery so far, but I also know that I haven't been little miss sunshine over the past week, either. I decided to continue on the pain medication, even though I was told by the doctor that I didn't seem like the kind of person who would depend on it. I took his words entirely too far, and sort of stopped taking it when I got home from the hospital (they only kept me one night), relying on the Ibuprofen instead. You know, there's a reason that they prescribe the pain meds, and as someone who battled with a lot of inner conflicts to finally decide to take anti-depressants, you'd think I'd have finally learned that pain medication is no different than any other medication. Relying solely on the pills to keep me hazy and remove me from reality is not the same thing as using them to help make my recovery less stressful. It took me two days of incredible pain to figure that out.

My face is changing every day, now, and as the swelling goes down, I am starting to hope that everything falls into place without altering the way I look too drastically. I liked my face before the surgery, which was never considered cosmetic. My surgeon, however, is of the opinion that it will improve my profile and minimize the impact of my chin, a nice by-product of trying to stop the mind-numbing headaches and inability to eat chewy things. Thing is...I really liked my face before. Okay, so I wasn't in love with the chin, but I had never had to teach myself not to hate it, either. I just don't want to have to get used to any drastic changes. I guess I'll have a long time to wait and see, though, since the message board I've been using as support has indicated that my face will be changing for months, maybe a year. In the meantime, the thing that surprised me most as I was examining my face today was the bruising:

I guess now that the swelling has gone down a little bit, I'm more anxious than ever to get my "old face" back, which I just said will take a while. Then again, the bruising makes me all the more aware of the fact that...well, they took a saw to my skull...and moved a part of it forward. My face has suffered some serious trauma. And despite all of it, and whatever may happen in the future, I'm really really happy right now. I feel complete, like I just crossed a major finish line in my life. I may not have run any marathons, but I did cross off a BIG to do on my life list.

Next up, I can't wait to get these braces off, y'all.

*The funny thing about the bruises being a reminder of the enormity of what has happened to me in the last week is that they're the bruises that occurred from my wisdom tooth removal. Simple wisdom teeth bruises that 99.9% of the population understands because people go through it all the time. Not that my surgery was in any way special, out of the ordinary, or even particularly serious, but the thing I'm most concerned about is a side-effect of the most mundane and routine part of this jaw stuff.

[People] Watching History Repeat Itself

J and I saw a pretty bad couple-fight last night. After they both stormed off, I asked him why we always had to be the ones to witness these things. I'm sure it's because before the wonderful days of anti-depressants, we subjected plenty of other people to these sorts of scenes (just in case anyone is uncertain, I was always the one causing the scene. Yeah, I'm wondering why I felt the need to clarify, too).

We had just had a great dinner at Border Cafe, and were standing outside the Harvard T entrance. A couple walked by, and the guy was telling [presumably] his girlfriend that she "should take his credit card, and...

...I don't want your credit card! Besides, it's my credit card."
"Yes, but I'm the one who is paying them off, so..." (he keeps trying to give her the card.)
"You know what, you can take that card..." She grabbed the card and threw it at him as hard as she could, and then put a finger to his chest and drew her face up to his until they were touching noses, "...shove it. Up. Your ass."

She stomped into the T while he picked up his the credit card and walked in the opposite direction. I couldn't tell if he was angry, frustrated, sad...or probably a combination of all the emotions in the world, except maybe the happy ones.

This reminds me of the time...well...actually, I don't remember details. But just yesterday while I was walking to Border Cafe, I saw a bench in Cambridge Common, and I thought, "Hey, I remember having a really bad fight at that bench." Sigh. Memories.

Death Before Yielding

A very interesting article about the mentality of pedestrians in the Cambridge (&Somerville) area.

I found this buried in a comment section somewhere else, but I felt it was worth reposting here, both in light of yesterday and just because this is a subject of general interest.

Death Before YieldingRenewed efforts to ease the age-old blood feud among Boston’s drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians blow right past a key question: What if, deep down, we kind of enjoy the madness that transpires on our roads every day?

By Joe Keohane

I nearly killed a woman in Cambridge a few years back. I was driving at a reasonable speed through Harvard Square when she stepped off a curb and walked right into the street without looking. I hit the brakes, bringing the car to a hard stop about three feet from her. Since the woman wasn’t even in a crosswalk, I expected some acknowledgment of wrongdoing—a chagrined wave, a “my bad,” anything. Instead, I got a look that suggested I had just taken away her right to vote and buried a meat axe in her adopted greyhound. Clearly, I was the oppressor in this little tableau, and she, as the oppressed, was no longer obligated to follow the law.

The whole encounter was no doubt partly due to Cambridge’s being a monument to the ecstasy of fake victimhood, but it’s more complicated than that. This woman didn’t develop a habit of blindly forging into the middle of the street on her own. Something had to happen to make that behavior seem acceptable. My guess is that she, like many of us, had spent a lot of time marooned in a crosswalk with cars hurtling by on both sides, and at some point just said, “Ah, to hell with it. If you’re not going to recognize the crosswalk, neither am I.”

read the rest of the article here

Look Both Ways, Then Never Leave the House

Update: It looks like they've made the identity of the victim public. It's such a hard thing to have had to witness, even after the fact. It only serves to remind us of our own mortality.

Someone commented on one of the articles, saying she witnessed the accident - that Isaac walked right into the back wheels of the truck while he was trying to cross at the crosswalk, possibly listening to an ipod - assuming that he and the truck wouldn't occupy the same space at the same time. This is consistent with a lot of the speculation and, sadly, the evidence I (and many others) witnessed. I have been caught off guard before when the rear wheels of a truck clip the curb and I have to jump back to avoid being hit. I also am among good company here in Camberville when, even while being a vigilant pedestrian, I stand [just barely] in the street, impatiently waiting for any opportunity to walk (whether it's at a lighted crosswalk or at an unlit one). It is tremendously scary when things like this happen. They're accidents. Simple. But how many times have we been lucky not to be victims of those accidents ourselves?

My heart goes out to the family and friends.

If you live in the Boston area (or any other metropolitan area, I'd imagine), you've probably done your share of jaywalking. Whether or not you're always careful, you've probably had a few near run-ins with some vehicles, and hopefully, you've always been okay.

The corner of Russell and Highland has always been this intersection for me, where the buses come barreling around the corner at (what feels like) 55 mph, regardless of the status of the light. There is no sign that disallows right turns on red, but whenever I'm watching this intersection I'm lucky if I see cars even pause before speeding around the corner, where the crosswalk is inconveniently and unsafely located. I want to go up to cars that actually stop and look, so that I can give the driver a high five. And on the same token, I want to smack pedestrians that just walk into the street when the light is green.

On the corner of Mass Ave and River street the volume of pedestrian traffic mixed in with the morning rush has made for some harrowing moments for me, too. The potentially deadly mix of man and vehicle was halted this morning, though, after tragedy struck. A 28 year old Harvard student was in the crosswalk when a Shaw's delivery truck turned right onto Mass Ave, and hit him, dragging him 25 feet (right in front of the subway entrance). The driver says he didn't see the guy. At 6:45 in the morning, it's very likely that the pedestrian had the right of way, and the truck simply made a (perfectly legal) right turn on a green light (the green traffic light and the walk signal both happen at the same time, despite a high volume of right turns. Stupid much, Cambridge?). Many people are blaming the morning sun. Could either one of them have paid more attention to the situation? Probably, but I doubt that any of us think like that when we're just trying to get to work - walking the same route we walk every morning. You shouldn't have to fear for your life when you have a walk signal. The driver should have been more cautious - always.

If your commute takes you to the Central Square T stop, it's likely that you saw this accident, or the grisly aftermath in some form or another. Unfortunately, Monday is the only day that my commute takes me to Central Square. I stopped to look at what I thought would be an exploded manhole cover (frequently happens in the area, unfortunately), or, when I saw the semi-truck, someone crashed into a pole. I never dreamed that I would be staring at the remains of a fatal pedestrian accident, thinking about how terrifying it is to watch cars blaze through red lights, or pedestrians walk blithely into traffic.

My mom always used to say, regarding right-of-way, that it's better to be wrong than to be dead right. I do honestly think about this frequently while crossing, but how many times have I bolted across the street to beat a blinking orange hand, trusting the traffic lights to keep me safe? It's enough to make a person doubly cautious, and even that won't do it sometimes. There's no traffic light that's going to protect you from the laws of physics, or someone else's carelessness.

Unfortunately, the Harvard student didn't make it. If you're the praying type, you should keep his family in your prayers. If like me, you're not, then just keep them in your thoughts. And be careful out there. I imagine sometimes what I would do if J were ever hurt, and it knocks the wind right out of me. And that's just pretend.

(edited to add: I got into an interesting discussion on someone else's livejournal, and he pointed out that the truck was going at a low speed, and the pedestrian got caught under the back tires (true, I also noticed this when I saw the scene). He made note that this could have been any kind of accident where someone was or was not paying attention - someone wearing headphones, someone tripping, a truck clipping the curb...so I'm not trying to make the point that anyone is to *blame*, but a person can never be too careful!)

We Are Scientists - Brain Thrust Mastery

We Are Scientists have a new album being released in the UK (and most of Europe) on Monday. Lucky UK bastards.

The song After Hours is a sweet and catchy tune with the most adorable video. I sense a new addiction coming on:

These boys are the cutest indie rock band out there (Tokyo Police Club being the main competition for my heart, but I don't know...right now it's a toss up). Last time I saw them live, I swear the lead singer and I had a moment. Then again, it was probably the beer talking. Next time I'll just have to take off my shirt, rush the stage, and make sure.

If you're a little bit crazy like me, you can order it here. Or, you know...chance it and wait until it's available in the States.

Like Ninety Percent of All Indie Films

While Listening to an Elliott Smith cover of Cat Stevens' Trouble:

me: I am 100% sure that I have seen Thumbsucker. Did we try to watch it together? Because of the Elliott Smith music? And then we just couldn't do it? Or was I alone?

Laura: No, it was with me. As I recall, we both fell asleep.

me: That's right.

Laura: Within ten minutes.

me: It really wasn't very good.
....or it was too deep.

Laura: or it thought it was too deep.

Spreading Their Filthy Tolerance All Over the Place

I don't like spreading hatred all over the Internet, but I think it's important for people to see things like this because I trust you to make intelligent, informed decisions:



The best(worst) part is that since she has recieved flack for this she issued a response (that was absolutely not an apology):

“To put this simply, as a Christian I believe homosexuality is not moral. Obviously, you have the right as an American to choose that lifestyle, but I also have the right to express my views and my fellow Oklahomans have the right to debate these issues.

“In recent years homosexual activists have begun to aggressively promote their agenda through the political process, often providing substantial financing to candidates who agree with their views, including many running for state legislative races. National publications such as Time, The Atlantic and USA Today have noted that trend. That is their right, just as it is my right to voice opposition to their agenda, which I have been asked to do at several public forums in recent months. That’s what democracy is all about. It appears some homosexual activists believe only one group is allowed a voice in this debate. I disagree.

“A vigorous debate on an issue is not ‘hate speech’ – it’s free speech. I have made clear my opposition to the agenda of homosexual activists, but I have never endorsed or supported any hateful action targeting individuals on the other side of this debate and never will. The fact that many gay rights activists claim anyone opposing their agenda is engaging in ‘hate speech’ says more about them than me.

“Most Oklahomans are socially conservative and believe marriage is a sacred institution, the union of one man and one woman, and that the traditional family is worth protecting and preserving. When I campaigned for office, I promised my constituents to stand up for those values, and I do not apologize for keeping my word.”

What agenda, exactly, is that which the homosexual activists are aggressively promoting?

TOLERANCE?

Lord knows we wouldn't want any of that in Oklahoma.

A Shiny, Pretty, Quiet iMac

I never really did follow up with this saga about my computer and its impending molten death.

After he found the potential trojan (which ended up being nothing, really), J cleaned out the whole computer with some virus software and then compressed air, and we tried to start backing things up before the whole thing went up in flames. I felt like I was racing the clock.

The next day, after a third sudden shutdown during an episode of Aqua Teen Hunger Force, I had had enough. I was ready to throw the thing out the window. Instead, I sighed, and unplugged it. I flipped it over, and went at it with the air can again. This time, I noticed a little bit of hair in the fan, so I picked up a pair of tweezers. Instead of a little bit of hair, I ended up pulling out a dust ball the size of a small mouse. I don't even know how that much dust managed to get into my fan, but there it was.

My computer was instantly quiet. More efficient, perhaps, but more importantly - quiet. And no longer shutting down suddenly for no good reason.

Since this resolution, my computer has gotten progressively louder again, and is almost as loud as it was at the height of it's near-death. It seems the honeymoon period was over before we even got started. Stupid laptop.

So the long and short of this whole unfortunate business?

I'm getting an iMac.

All American Rejects - Dirty Little Secret

Sometimes I know what the lyric is, but it doesn't stop me from singing what I hear:

I'll keep you my dirty little secret
Don't tell anyone or you'll be
Just another egret.

There is an Artful Lack of Color in my Room. Because I am not allowed to paint my walls.

I bought a travel tripod today, because I wasn't sure if I would be able to take my gorillapod to San Francisco, since it was supposed to arrive on Friday but our UPS guy doesn't get it. Anyway, I tested it out in my room - it holds the camera up very well, is incredibly stable, and is very lightweight. For $20 (marked down from $60!), I can't complain. Still, I wish my gorillapod had arrived earlier - it might actually have a chance of fitting in the bag I'm taking with me to walk around the city, which is the only area where this tripod fails.

I am looking forward to a week long vacation with J - sightseeing, drinking wine in Napa, and visiting with friends (and their adorable bunnies) in Davis. It's been a while since I've taken an honest to goodness vacation. And with my fancy new camera and fancy new camera equipment, I'm more excited than ever.

P.S. - I know...it's kind of like an IKEA bomb exploded in my room.

Re-upholstry

I am absolutely dying to do this to my wing back chair.

And Singer? Singer just came out with a sewing machine that automatically threads the machine and the bobbin.

While I would love to splurge on a sewing machine right now...maybe this should be on my "Things to do before I turn 26" List.

Productive, even though it was my day off

Because last week was particularly long (I pulled an all nighter on Thursday, working a total of 28 hours - that would be minus three hour-long breaks for meals), I decided to take Thursday and Friday off this week. This means I have a five day weekend to play around with.

Yesterday was reasonably productive:

I lined my el-cheapo IKEA CD shelf with some bird paper I found at Paper Source that I thought was absolutely gorgeous. With birds! And even though I don't celebrate Valentine's Day, I couldn't resist making some pink heart shaped cookies. They were delicious, and so cute they triggered my barf reflex, which you might not think would be a good combination when cookies are involved, but it was. Don't worry. To counterbalance the heart shaped ickiness, I used the leftover dough to make a wang cookie (a dickerdoodle, if you're a PA reader).

24 Things To Do Before My 25th Birthday

Inspired by hula seventy, I have decided to make a list of things to do before I hit my quarter of a century mark.

1. Build my own website 
2. Take a photography class 
3. Build a piece of furniture 
4. Screen print my own t-shirts 
5. Make sure this list is a yearly thing
6. Put another stamp on my passport 
7. Learn how to sew
8. Host a board game night 
9. Try to be more rigorous about taking photos
10. See a play 
11. Go camping 
12. Go to a free film night in Davis Square 
13. Make my Christmas cards
14. Make my own stitch markers
15. Knit entrelac
16. Aim to ride my bike to work four times a week** 
17. Participate in another bike ride (for charity or otherwise)
18. Take a weekend trip to Maine 
19. Bike up the coast in Rhode Island 
20. Visit a winery in Napa Valley 
21. Switch to energy efficient bulbs 
22. Get a library card
23. Build a light box (for photographing yarn)
24. See snow on the beach 

**This year I aimed for three. I was not successful many weeks out of the riding season. I figure if I aim for four, I might succeed at three more often?

Firey Computer Death

My laptop may be on its last leg these days, and I am trying my hardest to transfer my 26GB of music onto my external hard drive before the whole thing explodes into pieces of angry, molten laptop. The problem lies within the fact that my computer likes to transfer about two gigs of music, then shut down in the middle of the transfer. Without warning or blue screen of death, there will just be sudden black nothingness. The best part is how it likes to transfer the folders randomly, instead of alphabetically, so I get to search for the remaining folders! Yay!

J thinks he may have found a trojan, and we found a mysterious file that I did not install. We're both crossing our fingers that it just snuck in with something else I did instal, and not that someone is remotely accessing my computer and gathering identity theft material.

While there are plenty of updates, I've spent most of my free time knitting instead of updating this blog. I started a knitting blog, just in case that's what you're interested in, and you probably won't be finding much of it here, anymore.

Wrapping up 2007

Wrapping up 2006

1. What did you do in 2007 that you'd never done before?
I rode my bike 50 miles for charity (I bought a bike), rented a zipcar, and asked for help. I bought a grown up bed, and a real Christmas tree.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions and will you make more for next year?
From last year:

This year, I want to work out more (HA), be a nicer person (at least outwardly), and definitely be more patient (both inside and out). And drink more water.

This year I just want to be happy. Happy and dehydrated.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
A co-worker and his wife had a baby. She is the cutest baby in the whole. world. THE WORLD.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No

5. What countries did you visit?
Bermuda

6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007?
A pair of sensible shoes

7. What date from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory and why?
July 17th. It was the first time J told me he loved me.
November 21st. When my surgeon's office called me and told me they wouldn't be able to perform the surgery on our scheduled date.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Pulling myself up and out of a giant hole.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Not being close enough to people who care about me. Losing hope.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I was diagnosed with disthymia (depression), and my jaw has gotten progressively worse.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
I bought J rims for his bike. Also, my bed and artwork to go above my bed.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
J has been completely amazing. He's a great guy, he works hard, and (YES, Justin) he has a cute butt.
Laura is also completely amazing. She bought a house this year, and she's one of the strongest, most amazing women that I am blessed to have in my life.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
I'm pretty sure that I can't write that here because there are certain things one should avoid blogging about. But some of you know who I'm talking about.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Rent, shoes, and a new bed.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Tokyo Police club concerts, going to Coney Island with J, the new Harry Potter book and movie. Meeting J's family (wait, excited or nervous?)

16. What song will always remind you of 2007?
Your English is Good by Tokyo Police Club

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: happier or sadder?
Much, much happier. And more whole.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I wish I had ridden my bike more.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Less pity parties.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
With my family.

21. How will you be spending New Years?
That is a good question. I know I have invited many people to do something with me and J, but it is yet to be determined.

22. Did you fall in love in 2007?
Yes.

23. How many one-night stands?
None worth mentioning.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
Battlestar Galactica, The Office, Futurama, Planet Earth, 24 (more for the social aspect than the show. I mean... No. I mean that), Meerkat Manor (The OC of Animal Planet).

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Yes, see number 13, above.

26. What was the best book you read?
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, The Boleyn Inheritance

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Love is All. Even though I had some of their songs last year, I ended up getting the whole album recently, and I heart it.

28. What did you want that you also ended up getting?
A Canon EOS Digital Rebel XTi for Christmas/our one year anniversary. I honestly didn't deserve it. It's pretty much the most amazing thing I own.

29. What did you want that you did not end up getting?
My jaw surgery. I really really wanted my jaw surgery.
Also, I hoped against hope that J would be in town for our anniversary, and my birthday, but it didn't turn out that way. Actually, I just found out that he will be in town for my birthday. Yey!

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
I think it will be Lars and the Real Girl. If we ever get around to seeing it. But until then, King of Kong was pretty awesome.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 23, and we went to Border Cafe for some margaritas. Alisa also hosted a brunch for me.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
I honestly can't think of a single thing (ask me again when I'm feeling malcontent)

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007?
Lots of converse, stiletto heels, indie t-shirts, and boots. Also, lots of dresses, many of them far too low cut.

34. What kept you sane?
Medication. And therapy.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
John Krasinski (and not because he looks even the slightest bit like J...)

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Women's rights, gay marriage, religion in general, and abstinence education...it was a distressing year. I'm looking at you, Romney.

37. Who did you miss?
I missed J terribly when he went to Arizona a few weeks ago and I miss him terribly now. I missed my co-worker, Neil, a lot when he left. I miss Jordan and David, and even though I talk to her every day, I miss Laura. Well, damnit - I miss all of you - why don't we all live in the same state, anymore?!

38. Who was the best new person you met?
I suppose although I met Jordan, David, and Sarah last year, we didn't really get to know each other until this year. Also, a lot of the new interns at work are the awesome.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006.
"Love is an unreleased Pixies album in a world before file sharing"

Also, learning how to trust again can be a wonderful thing.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
"No, this is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into some
Someone else's heart
Pumping someone else's blood
And walking arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again"
-Regina Spektor, On the Radio

As a Corollary to Heather's Post

Just in case there was some interest in Heather's post that I linked to a few days back, her husband Jon responded with his perspective on what it's like to live with someone with chronic depression.

Since there are varying levels of depression I won't pretend I know what it's like to live with it all the time, but there's something to be said about partners and friends who are open and kind when you finally admit that you need help. There are wonderful people who have allowed me to begin to heal and learn how to manage this in a safe environment - who don't judge me and who make sure I know that they think that I am a wonderful person even when I refuse to believe it. I know it's hard to be on the other side of that - mostly I'd imagine that it's hard to know what to do.

I'm sure I'm being all kinds of melodramatic, here. But thanks, anyway.

A Better Life

I read dooce.com on a daily basis because Heather is an incredibly smart, insightful, witty and beautiful person - and frankly she is one of my heroes. She isn't scared to talk about subjects that many people avoid, and it is exactly this aspect of her blog that helped me figure some things out after facing being afraid to face a few very dark times in my life.

Because I couldn't say it on the phone

Christmas Tree!

Every year since I went away to college, I have decorated my own Christmas tree. Until last year, it has always been a three foot "Canadian Pine" that I found at Walgreens, with some ornaments that I have accumulated over the years.

This year, I was going to buy a real tree - and by that, I meant a six foot "Canadian Pine" from the hardware store. Something more realistic than my three foot table-top tree.

Well...I ended up going with something even more realistic, instead.



On Sunday, J and I went to Crane Neck Christmas Tree Farm with some friends and hauled a nice eight foot tree back with us.





Oh, and for the record, we were this tall in Christmas 2007:

Daft Punk Are Brilliant, I Love Daft Punk.

Daft Punk just released a new live album, Alive 2007, and I have streamed it a few times now. I am thoroughly addicted, and will be purchasing it today so that I can listen myself sick.

I know that Around The World is everyone's favorite song, so hey, how about an .mp3? Around The World/Harder Better Faster Stronger will be on constant repeat in my iTunes today - now doesn't it make you want to get up and dance?

Daft Punk's Myspace Page
Buy the album at Amazon
Download the album on iTunes

Speaking of Daft Punk, have any of you seen the Dom and Elijah Interview Easter Egg on Return of the King?



If you have (and if you haven't, feel free to watch. I'll wait), you'll realize why I had a conniption and couldn't stop laughing for about five minutes after I had this conversation:

me: okay, for real, do you like daft punk? (i just made myself laugh)
me: (i can't stop)
laura: daft punk are brilliant
me: *deep breaths*
me: so daft punk just released a new live album
me: it's the awesome
laura: oh. you really were for real.
laura: now I'm laughing even harder.

I really am for real. This album is the awesome.

The Jaw Surgery That Wasn't

I was supposed to be getting jaw surgery today. A LeFort I Osteotomy, which would correct my upper jaw, and (hopefully) relieve me of jaw pain that gets so bad sometimes that I'm afraid my head will just explode right then and there out of sheer agony. I am obviously not getting the surgery today due to a number of reasons that are entirely not my fault, but for reasons that I keep blaming on myself, anyway.

My insurance didn't come through, which isn't a huge surprise given that my surgeon's office sent the request in right before a holiday. We planned this surgical date on October 18th, though. After years of waiting for this, I scheduled this date in good faith that a month and a half would be enough time for them to secure the operating room, contact my insurance, jump through hoops the insurance would probably put us through, and then I thought we would finally get this DONE.

So, to be exact, I have been waiting for the go ahead to get this done for two years. I have been through no less than three insurance providers in the course of my waiting. Unfortunately, fate timed this date such that when it was scheduled I would be covered by an insurance company that is not local, and thus does not operate under Massachusetts code, and thus has been a huge pain in my ass - repeatedly and for every variety of medical care I've ever needed. In the meantime, my jaw pain has progressed, and sometimes I wake up and it's locked up so tightly that I have to use a heating pack on my face. So that I can eat. Or, you know, function.

I have been in braces for almost three years now. The braces haven't really been doing much; my teeth haven't moved in the last two years. The worst part about having braces as an adult is...well, having braces as an adult. I know I'm the only one who matters that even notices them as a negative thing. Both my boyfriend and my best friend have repeatedly told me that the braces aren't even a fraction of a thought on people's minds, but they are still all I can think about when I'm meeting someone for the first time, or smiling, or laughing. Or looking into a mirror.

I am fine, really. I was fine in Minnesota, when I didn't have to think about it, and I'm fine now, even though I am so ridiculously confused and sad and disoriented. I hate whoever it was, whatever collection of events it was, that caused me to have to take back all of the paperwork only to have to do it again sometime soon. Whatever caused me to have to cancel my mother's $800 flight and several hundred dollar rental car because I will need her here when I get my surgery and we can't just spend $1000 every time we get dicked around. I hate that I was forced to rent a zipcar for the purpose of rushing some dental molds to an office in another city, only to find out that it didn't matter, anymore - and then get an icing-on-the-cake parking ticket from the good old city of Somerville.

I am so bummed. And queasy, and tired. I don't know why I'm queasy, but I am. I have been since I found out that my surgery date was going to come and go, and I wasn't going to be able to do a thing about it. It's hard to take out anger on the source when there really isn't one.

I think it's about time to finally start throwing bricks at cars that don't stop at stop lights or yield to my bike when I have the right of way. I mean, the anger has to go somewhere. I can't just keep it inside!

Woo, Turkey!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I am off to Minnesota to (hopefully, if the skies are on my side) spend dinner with my sister, and Laura and her family. For now, I'm leaving a link to a blog post I found on digg that was pretty interesting. I'd like to live my life with a little bit less cynicism, but that's another topic for another time, I suppose. Right now, I have to pack.

http://thinksimplenow.com/happiness/how-to-be-naked-like-a-baby/

I am fairly sure that if they took porn off the internet, there would only be one website left and it would be called "bring back the porn"

I am busy as all holy hell and will stay that way until I leave for Minnesota. Updates, although there are probably many, will be scarce -- as they have been.

Until then, you, who found this blog via google.co.uk (and not only that, but I am the number one hit...What the...?):

http://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&q=flickr.panties.&btnG=Search&meta=

You are disgusting. That is not what the Internet is for.

Fiery Bolero

I finished the fiery bolero last night. Even though it doesn't fit me, I'm still pretty happy with the way it turned out. The seaming was a little bit touch and go, and was maybe a bit messy in places, but after I got the hang of picking up stitches for the collar, I realized that this knitting thing...it isn't so hard with enough practice.

So now I need to find someone just a little bit bigger than me to wear it. I want one for myself oh so badly...but not badly enough to rip this one out.

Mulesing and Circumcision

I was reading up on mulesing on Wikipedia today because I keep hearing about it in the knitting and animal rights worlds. There was an interesting thread on ravelry, so I decided to do a little research (emphasis on a little).

My first thought was that it sounds absolutely horrible. Then again, so can circumcision and it sounded a little bit like circumcision.

The non-wooled skin which is around the anus (and vulva in ewes) is pulled tight as the cut heals and results in a smooth area that does not get fouled by fæces or urine.

When managed according to the standards, policies and procedures developed by the CSIRO, lambs are normally mulesed a few weeks after birth. The operation takes one to two minutes. Standard practice is to do this operation simultaneously with other procedures such as ear marking, tail docking, and vaccination. Because the procedure removes skin, not any underlying flesh or structure, there is little blood loss from the cut other than a minor oozing on the edges of the cut skin.

but I hadn't seen it paralleled to circumcision anywhere, yet. I wondered if that was incredibly ignorant of me.

I wrote a paper in college that began as an FGM paper, but by the time I researched and edited, and re-researched and re-edited, it had turned into a paper about male circumcision: the unknown horrors. In all of the cases I have been familiar with, circumcision didn't leave a physical impact or, to my knowledge, an emotional one, but I have to admit that my sample size is small. Very small. Is it really a matter of hygeine? Or is it about cosmetics, or Victorian views on masturbation? Can it traumatize the baby? Is it worth it? The research I did raised more questions than it answered, and I could only address so many in the paper -- I wasn't answering them, anyway, I was so confused.

I guess my question was, am I crazy for comparing mulesing to circumcision, and going further, is either one inhumane enough to call for the eradication of the practice?

It seems that there is a resounding assertion that museling is just plain wrong. However, after doing a quick Google search on circumcision and museling, I found that I just haven't been reading closely enough, because a lot of people seem to draw on the parallel.

I haven't come to a conclusion on either topic at the moment. More research than I genuinely care to do right now would be required, but I think both are interesting.

I also wanted to post this comment found at treehugger.com:

I believe Ethan [a previous poster] is comparing muesling to his own circumcision... I wonder if [he] realizes that lambs are born far more physically advanced than humans - that is to say baby sheep are at par developmentally with beginning school aged children (I know that sheep don't do the whole spoken language thing, so spare me. I mean that they walk, explore, have the capacity to learn, etc. - something which took Ethan a year or three to warm up to). So, Ethan, if your first day of school commenced with being circumcised sans anaesthesia, would you still have graduated?

All of the above aside, here's a bit of background not covered by the wiki link:
1.) Sheep's posteriors have been covered with wool for thousands of years.
2.) Feces and urine have probably been getting stuck there for just as long.
3.) Flies have been around for even longer than that.
4.) Two world wars in the first half of the last century, and the amassing of armies to fight them, created an unprecedented demand for wool for uniforms. This demand led to a new manner of raising livestock, and the acceptance of the practice of mulesing.

The issue isn't so much flystrike, it's that the animals are now raised in conditions which cause it. All you have to do is keep their bums clean! With one ranch-hand per hundred sheep this was not a problem, but with one per a thousand you have a bunch of dirty animals... If you take out the animal equation, mulesing is to wool what pesticides and preservatives are to food. Do you only buy organic vegetables? Then do the same with your next sweater and support companies like SmartWool.

Maybe no more educational than everything else I've read today, but I thought it was interesting.

I only have so much to give, too

I am so tired of being angry all the time.

I feel like every step in this recovery has been slow and painful; every time I look ahead to see how far I have to go, I feel like I am staring down an endless highway, and when I look back to see how far I've come, I've traveled an inch.

I feel so helpless and frustrated and clumsy, like I'm stuck being insecure and inept and completely hopeless while I wait to become someone better.

I feel like no one is listening to me, and by the time I demand to be heard, by the time I want to scream at people to look at me, pay attention to me -- tell me everything is going to be okay -- all I do is push people away. I have absolutely no idea how to ask for what I need, and how can I blame people for not meeting expectations I don't even know I have?

My world is falling so short of what I have hoped for right now, and I have no idea how to reconcile that.

Recipe for a not so bad day, after all

To cure an insanely bad day at work, take this zucchini bread recipe, some bad TV, and a sweet boyfriend. Mix thoroughly.

Luckiest Girl in the World

Last night I had the most wonderful dream.

I was at "work," and had run downstairs to go grab lunch. On my way out, I asked my boyfriend -- this beefy Irish guy that I worked with -- what he wanted for lunch. He was feeling sick, so he wanted a very specific soup. When I ran downstairs to grab it for him, I bumped into another co-worker, my best friend J. I had just grabbed a semi-viable substitution for the soup that they did not have, but J asked if I wanted to join him for lunch in the park, and I completely forgot about my sick boyfriend waiting upstairs.

We walked across the street and sat near some flowers under a tree. I was having such a good time, and he was so beautiful and sweet and funny. I had had the biggest crush on him for the longest time and it was so painful because I had this really sweet mild mannered boyfriend, but I was in love with J. He was so perfect and we were so wonderful together - I mean, we were best friends. I was torn up inside and I had no idea what I was going to do.

I woke up and looked around -- I was already dating J. He mumbled something in his sleep and scratched his nose. I settled back down into the covers, feeling warm and happy. I was already with my best friend. He was laying right there next to me.

Blogging because I have too much time on my hands

Okay, I'm going to do what I do best and turn this Nov. 1^st blog post into a bitch fest (I'm participating in NaBloPoMo), because today I have a rant.

I've been fielding comments over on flickr due to J's recent Internet fame. I shouldn't. Field the comments, I mean. Especially after we Googled it and had a riotous laugh about some of the comments on other blogs that I have zero control over:

I think its unique even though its ugly.

Is it me or wearing a social site costume is the best way to tell everybody around that you don't have a social life ?

Photoshop.

Where are the ads?
Obviously, the party has Firefox with Adblock.

Yes. HILARIOUS. And somewhat ironically hilarious given the spoof comments J came up with.

The vast majority of the comments have been nice. Some guy on digg was tickled by the "easter eggs," and the gearfuse guy was the first to point out that J didn't have enough stars.

Some people were just downright OFFENDED that they came up with the idea first but weren't plastered all over the Internet. I'm sorry that just because he didn't do it first, J happened to do it right. I'm sorry your fragile little egos were so bruised you had to be offended at all (although some of you were just sharing for sharing's sake, so I'm not speaking at y'all). I mean honestly, guys. I just posted a picture I took to flickr. Panties, unbunch.

Then, along the same vein, there are the people who felt compelled to link to their similar, yet less creative, costumes that "only took 15 minutes to make and were better." Seriously? It's not a contest. But if it were, shouldn't you have a little bit more pride in your work? First of all, don't tell me it took 15 minutes because I saw the link you posted and I know roughly how long it takes to make poster boards. You, unfortunately, invested more than 15 minutes in that. Add time for not actually thinking of witty comments, but instead just printing your costume off the Internet. Awesome! You can use a glue stick! Don't you have more dignity than that? Are you twelve?*

But there's one that really burns my butt, and it has come up with regards to my knitting so I felt it deserved an entry because it makes me want to stab people in the eye. This is the, "You must have so much time on your hands," comment.

Too. Much. Time. On my hands. On the Internet, I am incapable of giving the withering stare that I have perfected for just such occasions. Are you seriously telling me that because I made time to do something that makes me happy, that it is more frivolous than the time you spend farting around doing whatever it is that you do that does not interest me at all? Next time it happens I'm going to say something about the new 26 hour day I've converted to, and how they should try it.

I know that I am judgmental, but christ. Do people even think when they open their mouths anymore?

*There's no piggy-backing on my flickr page. If your comment was deleted, it was because you're a dick, because you had the audacity to post a link to your costume while calling someone who had the EXACT SAME IDEA AS YOU lame (you want some of those hits? Stop being a dick and maybe I'd allow the referral from my page), or because you annoyed me. It's my photo, my paid space on flickr, my rules. Post your links elsewhere. Be idiots elsewhere. Digg might be a good place for that.