I'm pretty sure I hit a personal low this morning. I wish I could quit the Army. I really do. It is the most negative thing in my life right now and I really wish I didn't have 2 years left of it. We have a PT test this weekend and I have been doing half assed work outs to "get ready" for it. Last week I realized I had less than 2 weeks left to "get ready" for it, and "decided" to step up my game. (insert laugh track). In truth, I have done nothing of the sort. I ran on the treadmill this morning (temps are still below freezing here) and I QUIT. I literally quit at about a mile and a half. I stopped the machine, stepped off, and that was it. I don't know how to fix my brain, I don't know how to make myself stop doubting myself. I can't even say exactly WHY I did what I did. All I know is that this is BAD, and it needs to STOP.
I've also hit a personal high this morning, but also not good: I have gained a pound a day over the last 3 days, putting my weight at an all time high (excluding pregnancy). I won't mention what it actually is, I'm a lady after all. I admit that I have been kinda pigging out, but I've pigged out before and have never seen this type of weighty reaction to it. I am dismayed and disappointed. I am hoping that with the [hopeful] onset of warmer weather soon that I'll be able to push myself easier to be more active (running outside is so much more satisfying than on a treadmill in the basement) more regularly (I really do feel good, physically, after I work out, it's just the starting thing I have so much trouble with, and now apparently the middle part of it).
I will also, in the next week or so, find a doctor and get myself a check up, because my PCOS may have some responsibility in the moodiness and weight gain. Hormones can be a real bitch, especially if they are not 'balanced.' In which case I may be able to come up with a more effective way in dealing with my issues than just wanting to sleep and without turning to semi-anorexic behavior. I'm no good at "dieting." In lieu of a diet, I generally just eat less. A LOT less. No motivation, no will power. Things need to change.
Showing posts with label Thinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thinking. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Birthday Birthday Cake!
So, tomorrow is my birthday. I'll be turning 29. I feel like I shouldn't feel as young as I do, but at the same time I also feel very old. We had my birthday dinner last night, a humongous pot roast (omg it was soooo good), boiled potatoes, carrots, a pitcher of gravy, and Aldi's Chocolate Eclairs for dessert. MMmmm.
I love the day my birthday is on - my parents' wedding anniversary. I will never lose track of how long they've been married - this year will mark 31 years; Yay Mommy and Daddy!
I'm not sure how much more there is to blog about these days. My life is dull and boring. I don't go out because I have no friends here. I have no friends because I have no idea where to go to meet people. I don't feel like I fit in with other parents that are older than me (and married), but I also don't feel like I fit in with the younger/still single crowd either. It's a strange interim period in my life that's been lasting for the past 7 years or so.
I try to crochet a little bit every day, and I try to read a little bit every day. Two weekends ago I read The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin, and it felt so good to read a novel over a weekend, like "yeah I still got it," like riding a bike. It had been so long since I read anything so feverishly, it felt really good to get lost in the words, to not have to think about real life for a while because I'm bored and boring and uninterested and uninteresting, tired and unhappy. I'm in a slump and I'm not sure how to get out of it. I'm hoping the warmer weather that is on its way (soon, I hope) will make me feel like being more active and busy with things. What things? Well, that's the question of the year, isn't it? I just don't know.
I love the day my birthday is on - my parents' wedding anniversary. I will never lose track of how long they've been married - this year will mark 31 years; Yay Mommy and Daddy!
I'm not sure how much more there is to blog about these days. My life is dull and boring. I don't go out because I have no friends here. I have no friends because I have no idea where to go to meet people. I don't feel like I fit in with other parents that are older than me (and married), but I also don't feel like I fit in with the younger/still single crowd either. It's a strange interim period in my life that's been lasting for the past 7 years or so.
I try to crochet a little bit every day, and I try to read a little bit every day. Two weekends ago I read The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin, and it felt so good to read a novel over a weekend, like "yeah I still got it," like riding a bike. It had been so long since I read anything so feverishly, it felt really good to get lost in the words, to not have to think about real life for a while because I'm bored and boring and uninterested and uninteresting, tired and unhappy. I'm in a slump and I'm not sure how to get out of it. I'm hoping the warmer weather that is on its way (soon, I hope) will make me feel like being more active and busy with things. What things? Well, that's the question of the year, isn't it? I just don't know.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Strength
What does it mean to be "strong?" When someone says, "you are such a strong person," what does that really entail? I'm obviously not speaking about literal strength, to be able to bench press 400 lbs or whatever, but emotional, mental, psychological strength. Are they different? Does it all mean the same thing?
A number of people that I know have been faced with different types of hardship. Some temporary, some permanent. All difficult to deal with. And all for different reasons. But what is it about a person that makes them strong or not? To see in them the "strength" to push through, stand up, and get over whatever hurdle faces them. Or not. Do they disintegrate at the first sign of trouble? Crawl into a shell and not come out until the worst has passed? Continue to believe that these 'bad' things will not stop happening? Are these people then not strong?
I don't know. It may be subjective. It may depend on your perception of the person, your knowledge of that person, and a hundred other things. At my most vulnerable moments is when people told me they admired my strength. What did they mean? DID they mean it? Or was it something better to say than "Oh yeah that sucks. Sucks to be you!" Is it a measure of encouragement during a down time, or does it really mean something more?
I don't know. As I look back, I do find it amazing how I was able to get through those moments mostly unscathed, but still carry their lasting marks on me. Was I strong? Did it make me stronger? Will I be able to be that strong again?
A number of people that I know have been faced with different types of hardship. Some temporary, some permanent. All difficult to deal with. And all for different reasons. But what is it about a person that makes them strong or not? To see in them the "strength" to push through, stand up, and get over whatever hurdle faces them. Or not. Do they disintegrate at the first sign of trouble? Crawl into a shell and not come out until the worst has passed? Continue to believe that these 'bad' things will not stop happening? Are these people then not strong?
I don't know. It may be subjective. It may depend on your perception of the person, your knowledge of that person, and a hundred other things. At my most vulnerable moments is when people told me they admired my strength. What did they mean? DID they mean it? Or was it something better to say than "Oh yeah that sucks. Sucks to be you!" Is it a measure of encouragement during a down time, or does it really mean something more?
I don't know. As I look back, I do find it amazing how I was able to get through those moments mostly unscathed, but still carry their lasting marks on me. Was I strong? Did it make me stronger? Will I be able to be that strong again?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
A quick word about 6 year olds
Ok, granted my daughter isn't quite 6 years old yet, but this is relevant. I was at Queens College last Saturday to watch a performance that my very awesome friend Veronica was in (as was her boyfriend). Before the show started I was listening in on the conversation of the two ladies sitting behind me. What else was I going to do? Put my fingers in my ears?
Well let me tell you that I had to work hard not to turn around and butt in. One lady was talking about how she went to the Ballet to see Swan Lake or whatever, and says that behind her were sitting a group of moms with their 6-yr old girls. Which I, when I heard that, thought was fantastic! To be able to bring a young, impressionable girl to something as culturally high-end and spectacular as the NY Ballet. But the lady goes on to complain that one girl kept asking questions and, this is not the end, that the mother kept answering the questions! O M G. A six year old had questions? And the mother was terrible enough to answer them? The lady then said something along the lines of, "if you take a kid to the ballet you have to make them shut up!" Shut up??
Don't get me wrong. The lady did not mention the content of the questions, nor the frequency of the questions; if they were about what was for dinner that night, or if she could stay home from school or whatever, then that's not appropriate, but say for instance, in the case of MY daughter, I KNOW she'd have been asking questions about the ballet. In which case I would have gladly answered as quietly as I could.
For all I know, the kid could have asked 2 questions the entire performance and the lady was just exaggerating. On the other hand, the kid could have really been non-stop about non-ballet themed issues. I don't know. But what I DO know is that 6 year olds are naturally inquisitive. They are young, impressionable (yes I know I used that word already), and eager to learn. And not just learn in general, but learn from you. Each parent has an opportunity to either answer their child's questions, or shut her up and let her simmer. Shut her up one too many times and the next time she has a question, she won't ask it. I believe that the hushing option will eventually kill my child's love of learning. I do my best to give her honest answers to everything she asks me to the best of my ability and in a simple way she can understand.
Ok so I guess that wasn't really that quick, but I had to get that out before I didn't feel like writing about it anymore. I'm glad I did. I feel better now.
Well let me tell you that I had to work hard not to turn around and butt in. One lady was talking about how she went to the Ballet to see Swan Lake or whatever, and says that behind her were sitting a group of moms with their 6-yr old girls. Which I, when I heard that, thought was fantastic! To be able to bring a young, impressionable girl to something as culturally high-end and spectacular as the NY Ballet. But the lady goes on to complain that one girl kept asking questions and, this is not the end, that the mother kept answering the questions! O M G. A six year old had questions? And the mother was terrible enough to answer them? The lady then said something along the lines of, "if you take a kid to the ballet you have to make them shut up!" Shut up??
Don't get me wrong. The lady did not mention the content of the questions, nor the frequency of the questions; if they were about what was for dinner that night, or if she could stay home from school or whatever, then that's not appropriate, but say for instance, in the case of MY daughter, I KNOW she'd have been asking questions about the ballet. In which case I would have gladly answered as quietly as I could.
For all I know, the kid could have asked 2 questions the entire performance and the lady was just exaggerating. On the other hand, the kid could have really been non-stop about non-ballet themed issues. I don't know. But what I DO know is that 6 year olds are naturally inquisitive. They are young, impressionable (yes I know I used that word already), and eager to learn. And not just learn in general, but learn from you. Each parent has an opportunity to either answer their child's questions, or shut her up and let her simmer. Shut her up one too many times and the next time she has a question, she won't ask it. I believe that the hushing option will eventually kill my child's love of learning. I do my best to give her honest answers to everything she asks me to the best of my ability and in a simple way she can understand.
Ok so I guess that wasn't really that quick, but I had to get that out before I didn't feel like writing about it anymore. I'm glad I did. I feel better now.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Sleep
I'm having trouble with sleep. No, I'm not having trouble getting to sleep - in fact, that's the issue. I'm falling asleep. Not during the day, but at night. And what's the problem with that, you may ask. The problem is that I'm going to sleep way too early and getting too much sleep. Now, most people wouldn't really count this as a huge problem, but this is happening pretty much every night. I'm 28, not 8. I don't need 10 hours of sleep. Yes, you read right: 10 hours of sleep. Or pretty damn close to that.
Here's the problem: Caelyn. Yes. Well, mostly. It's her fault, but it being her fault is my fault. We are still sharing a bedroom (at first because I hadn't finished painting her room, and really can't paint now until spring when we can open the windows, and now because the window is cracked so the room is pretty much extra storage for boxes we haven't unpacked yet). Her little toddler bed is in my room, but she doesn't sleep in it. (Yet). Which is my fault.
Bed time for Caelyn is around 8:00. Give or take. Then we read some books. Which usually brings us to around 8:30. Sleep time. We lay in bed together (more room now that I have a full bed), and she falls asleep in a matter of minutes. No problem. Now, I should stay up and get out of bed and do other stuff after that because I really don't need to fall asleep at 8:30-9:00. But I do. I think to myself, "Ok, I'll just wait a few more minutes to make sure she's really asleep," because if I don't, me getting out of bed may wake her up, OR, she may roll over and realize I'm not there, then wake up and scream her head off because Mommy 'disappeared.' So I wait a few more minutes, and in those two minutes in which I am waiting, I fall asleep.
In my defense, I do feel really sleepy at 9:00, but that's probably mostly due to the fact that I've gotten used to falling asleep at 9:00. I think this needs to stop. I'm getting too much sleep. I wake up around 2:00am and feel like it's time to get up, but it's not, and I go back to sleep and then feel even more sleepy when it actually IS time to wake up.
Here are my solutions:
1. Start putting Caelyn in her little bed after she is asleep so it forces me to get up, and gets her used to waking up in a different bed other than mine.
2. Start trying to get Caelyn to fall asleep in her own bed instead of in mine, that way me not being there won't be an issue to begin with. This one will be even harder than the first solution.
3. Get her own room set up so she can actually sleep in it, that way I don't have to worry about her in my bed AT ALL. This is the ultimate solution, but I won't be able to do this until A. The window gets fixed, and B. It gets warmer out so I can open the window so I can paint.
Also, would like enough extra cash to put down a decent floor in there (I'm thinking laminate and a nice big area rug), since right now it's really awful tiles that are 3 layers deep and peeling away.
Or, I could just set an alarm for 9:00pm to wake myself up and remind me to NOT fall asleep. I really wanted to do some reading last night, and I really really was trying to stay awake, and the next thing I know, I'm looking at my phone and it's 2:00am. Not cool. Hopefully in the next week or so I will be able to change this.
And speaking of change, watch out for my next blog in which I whine about Insanity. That is all.
Here's the problem: Caelyn. Yes. Well, mostly. It's her fault, but it being her fault is my fault. We are still sharing a bedroom (at first because I hadn't finished painting her room, and really can't paint now until spring when we can open the windows, and now because the window is cracked so the room is pretty much extra storage for boxes we haven't unpacked yet). Her little toddler bed is in my room, but she doesn't sleep in it. (Yet). Which is my fault.
Bed time for Caelyn is around 8:00. Give or take. Then we read some books. Which usually brings us to around 8:30. Sleep time. We lay in bed together (more room now that I have a full bed), and she falls asleep in a matter of minutes. No problem. Now, I should stay up and get out of bed and do other stuff after that because I really don't need to fall asleep at 8:30-9:00. But I do. I think to myself, "Ok, I'll just wait a few more minutes to make sure she's really asleep," because if I don't, me getting out of bed may wake her up, OR, she may roll over and realize I'm not there, then wake up and scream her head off because Mommy 'disappeared.' So I wait a few more minutes, and in those two minutes in which I am waiting, I fall asleep.
In my defense, I do feel really sleepy at 9:00, but that's probably mostly due to the fact that I've gotten used to falling asleep at 9:00. I think this needs to stop. I'm getting too much sleep. I wake up around 2:00am and feel like it's time to get up, but it's not, and I go back to sleep and then feel even more sleepy when it actually IS time to wake up.
Here are my solutions:
1. Start putting Caelyn in her little bed after she is asleep so it forces me to get up, and gets her used to waking up in a different bed other than mine.
2. Start trying to get Caelyn to fall asleep in her own bed instead of in mine, that way me not being there won't be an issue to begin with. This one will be even harder than the first solution.
3. Get her own room set up so she can actually sleep in it, that way I don't have to worry about her in my bed AT ALL. This is the ultimate solution, but I won't be able to do this until A. The window gets fixed, and B. It gets warmer out so I can open the window so I can paint.
Also, would like enough extra cash to put down a decent floor in there (I'm thinking laminate and a nice big area rug), since right now it's really awful tiles that are 3 layers deep and peeling away.
Or, I could just set an alarm for 9:00pm to wake myself up and remind me to NOT fall asleep. I really wanted to do some reading last night, and I really really was trying to stay awake, and the next thing I know, I'm looking at my phone and it's 2:00am. Not cool. Hopefully in the next week or so I will be able to change this.
And speaking of change, watch out for my next blog in which I whine about Insanity. That is all.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Merry Christmas and all that Jazz
Just a warning, this is going to be a long one. A lot has happened and I have a lot to catch up on. I probably won't even be able to touch on everything.
I'm blogging from MY ROOM in the big house! It's exciting! Kind of. It's strange being here. It doesn't feel like it's for real yet. I'm loathe to unpack my boxes and put my clothes in the closets and dresser drawers because it would feel too permanent. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. It still feels like I'm just up here for a vacation. Like next week I'll be back 'home.' But I known that this is 'home' now. Weird.
I can't wait to set my desk and computer up in the office and start working again. I need to make some moolah. I'm pretty much broke right now. I don't like being broke. I am also looking forward to doing my taxes ASAP this year so I can get my refund. One of the only upsides of not making a lot of money and having a kid and not having to file jointly with someone. Also paying tuition gets me some nice education credits. At least it did last year and I'm hoping for a repeat.
Tomorrow I'm driving back down to Jersey with my dad so we can do a last clean-out of the apartment, and pick up his car. After that, it will be completely done. Nowhere to go back to. I've already done my change-of-address through USPS, and changed my billing address on everything that matters. Including my college records so they mail my diploma to the right place.
In other news, I have to go to the high school on Monday when the schools reopen so I can register Caelyn. I was going to do it before they closed for the winter break, but it snowed, and we had no snow blower for a day, and we didn't shovel out til it was too late. I figured Caelyn wouldn't mind a couple extra days of no-school. And it would give her some more time to get acclimated to LIVING here, and not just act like it's a vacation. Well, it sort of is a vacation, since it's technically "Holiday Break," but eh, we gotta get back into a routine. At least time-wise. Going to sleep at midnight is not good for a 5 year old, especially if she is gonna have to get up early for school.
And I was thinking, I'm not sure if I like having moved up in winter. It does give us a good excuse to stay in and unpack and organize and rearrange stuff, but it also doesn't make it easy to get out and DO stuff. I'd like to explore town and get involved in things; make friends, get to know people and all that good stuff. It's way too easy to isolate up here, especially in the winter. Maybe I'll sign up to be a class mom, go to PTO meetings or whatnot. Idunno. I'm thinking cleaning out all our stuff as we 'move in' will create a need to have a garage sale in the spring, and boy do we have the perfect driveway to have a garage sale!
On another note, I need a night stand. My "desk" where my laptop is now is against the wall by the foot of my bed. What I really need is a taller table to put a lamp on, and also so I can put my glasses on it when I go to bed. Also, I think I want a nice comfy chair in here with a tall lamp behind it, to read. And a bookshelf. I must have a big shelf for all my books. I've got boxes and boxes of them. I'm sure I won't be able to put all of them out, but at least my favorites will be able to breathe again.
And to end on, before this gets any longer (I will try to blog more often, about interesting things!), Merry Christmas everyone! even though it's a few days late. I hope everyone also has a fantastic New Year's Eve. And don't think too hard about all those resolutions. Mid-way through February we'll all forget about them anyway. I've never stuck to one in my life and don't see it happening this year either.
Well, that's about it, wishing you all every kind of holiday cheer from my new abode north of the Adirondacks.
PS, I knew I'd forget something... I registered for NYC Midnight's Tweet me a Story contest! Registration was free, so I figured, why not? I won't lose anything from entering and it should prove to be really fun! I'll probably post about this again as the event gets closer.
I'm blogging from MY ROOM in the big house! It's exciting! Kind of. It's strange being here. It doesn't feel like it's for real yet. I'm loathe to unpack my boxes and put my clothes in the closets and dresser drawers because it would feel too permanent. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. It still feels like I'm just up here for a vacation. Like next week I'll be back 'home.' But I known that this is 'home' now. Weird.
I can't wait to set my desk and computer up in the office and start working again. I need to make some moolah. I'm pretty much broke right now. I don't like being broke. I am also looking forward to doing my taxes ASAP this year so I can get my refund. One of the only upsides of not making a lot of money and having a kid and not having to file jointly with someone. Also paying tuition gets me some nice education credits. At least it did last year and I'm hoping for a repeat.
Tomorrow I'm driving back down to Jersey with my dad so we can do a last clean-out of the apartment, and pick up his car. After that, it will be completely done. Nowhere to go back to. I've already done my change-of-address through USPS, and changed my billing address on everything that matters. Including my college records so they mail my diploma to the right place.
In other news, I have to go to the high school on Monday when the schools reopen so I can register Caelyn. I was going to do it before they closed for the winter break, but it snowed, and we had no snow blower for a day, and we didn't shovel out til it was too late. I figured Caelyn wouldn't mind a couple extra days of no-school. And it would give her some more time to get acclimated to LIVING here, and not just act like it's a vacation. Well, it sort of is a vacation, since it's technically "Holiday Break," but eh, we gotta get back into a routine. At least time-wise. Going to sleep at midnight is not good for a 5 year old, especially if she is gonna have to get up early for school.
And I was thinking, I'm not sure if I like having moved up in winter. It does give us a good excuse to stay in and unpack and organize and rearrange stuff, but it also doesn't make it easy to get out and DO stuff. I'd like to explore town and get involved in things; make friends, get to know people and all that good stuff. It's way too easy to isolate up here, especially in the winter. Maybe I'll sign up to be a class mom, go to PTO meetings or whatnot. Idunno. I'm thinking cleaning out all our stuff as we 'move in' will create a need to have a garage sale in the spring, and boy do we have the perfect driveway to have a garage sale!
On another note, I need a night stand. My "desk" where my laptop is now is against the wall by the foot of my bed. What I really need is a taller table to put a lamp on, and also so I can put my glasses on it when I go to bed. Also, I think I want a nice comfy chair in here with a tall lamp behind it, to read. And a bookshelf. I must have a big shelf for all my books. I've got boxes and boxes of them. I'm sure I won't be able to put all of them out, but at least my favorites will be able to breathe again.
And to end on, before this gets any longer (I will try to blog more often, about interesting things!), Merry Christmas everyone! even though it's a few days late. I hope everyone also has a fantastic New Year's Eve. And don't think too hard about all those resolutions. Mid-way through February we'll all forget about them anyway. I've never stuck to one in my life and don't see it happening this year either.
Well, that's about it, wishing you all every kind of holiday cheer from my new abode north of the Adirondacks.
PS, I knew I'd forget something... I registered for NYC Midnight's Tweet me a Story contest! Registration was free, so I figured, why not? I won't lose anything from entering and it should prove to be really fun! I'll probably post about this again as the event gets closer.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
I'm DONE
With school, that is. Last final and paper were due on the 20th, but due to the whole moving thing, I spent yesterday doing my syntax final. Today I went to campus to hand it in (ie. slip it under the professor's office door), then went to the library to write up my phonetics lit review. It took about as long as I figured it would take due to the fact that though the title of the article made it sound very easy and cut-and-dry, unfortunately the content was very hard to understand. The actual writing of the summary didn't take very long; it was all the understanding and interpreting of the data that took a long time. And it was freezing in the library. I'm sure this affected my performance to some degree... Get it? Degree!?
Hah. That is the state I'm in right now. I'm done. Completely done. My syntax final is out of my hands and the lit review has been emailed to the professor. That's all I had left to do in both my classes. Then I went over to the parking office to get my refund for my parking pass. Apparently, my final audit for GRADUATION that states that my conferment is January 2011 was not enough for them to say that I'm GRADUATING in January and would not be attending Montclair State any longer. I had to go to the Registrar and get a separate document stating that I was expected to graduate January 2011. So I did that. No big deal, but really, my audit wasn't enough? Really!? Oh well. So I handed in my parking permit, filled out the form, and in 6-8 weeks I shall get a refund check. For some odd reason I was expecting to just get money back today, but alas, I obviously expected too much. But at least I'll get the money eventually.
And now I'm home, blogging. It kinda seems a bit surreal. My head hurts. I'm tired. And I can't believe I'm done with school. All I have left to do now is to wait for my diploma to arrive in mid-February and then it will be even more official. It's been a long road from beginning to end with a lot of stops on the way. But here I am, on the cusp of moving to boot, looking toward the future and a new beginning.
Hah. That is the state I'm in right now. I'm done. Completely done. My syntax final is out of my hands and the lit review has been emailed to the professor. That's all I had left to do in both my classes. Then I went over to the parking office to get my refund for my parking pass. Apparently, my final audit for GRADUATION that states that my conferment is January 2011 was not enough for them to say that I'm GRADUATING in January and would not be attending Montclair State any longer. I had to go to the Registrar and get a separate document stating that I was expected to graduate January 2011. So I did that. No big deal, but really, my audit wasn't enough? Really!? Oh well. So I handed in my parking permit, filled out the form, and in 6-8 weeks I shall get a refund check. For some odd reason I was expecting to just get money back today, but alas, I obviously expected too much. But at least I'll get the money eventually.
And now I'm home, blogging. It kinda seems a bit surreal. My head hurts. I'm tired. And I can't believe I'm done with school. All I have left to do now is to wait for my diploma to arrive in mid-February and then it will be even more official. It's been a long road from beginning to end with a lot of stops on the way. But here I am, on the cusp of moving to boot, looking toward the future and a new beginning.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Cookies
I love cookies. I love baking them. I love decorating them. I love trying new recipes. I love eating them. Cookies. The smell of freshly baked cookies is one of the most fantastic smells to me. Especially around Christmas, it's what I like to call Cookie Season. Oh! The varieties and flavors of all the cookies we've made over the years; choosing which ones to make next year, which ones will be a "favorite" or a "regular."
This year may be different. After the move, I will have 3 days to bake cookies before Christmas. I suppose I could bake some AFTER Christmas, but then, are they still Christmas cookies? Are they as good for New Years? I'm not sure. I've made chocolate chip cookies a few times, but none so far as to be called Christmas cookies. In those 3 short days, which recipes will jump to the top of the stack? Which cookies will be worthy of making, in absence of all the rest? Macaroons, with their sweet, sticky coconut bodies topped with a bit of maraschino cherry? Peanut butter blossoms, half-melted Hershey kisses pressed into warm, sugar-coated peanut butter rounds? Magic mints, their peppermint combining with the chocolate ever so perfectly, their tops crackled with powdered sugar? Fruitcake cookies, for those who shun the real fruitcake, these will make you change your mind? Scotch-a-roos, those elusive cookies so good we haven't ever tasted them yet? My famous sugar cookies, cut into so many festive designs, splashed with colorful, simple frosting?
I wish I could make them all, but today I'm baking up the rest of the gingerbread dough I made last week. It was my first shot at gingerbread. It's mighty tasty, but not as soft and poofy as I imagine really awesome gingerbread cookies to be. They look all poofy in the oven, and as soon as I pull them out, they go flat. Like a souffle. Delicious, thick, chewy cookies fresh out of the oven are, in seconds, demoted to flat, indistinguishable blobs, for not only have they caved in, they've spread. My meticulously cut gingerbread men could not hold their shape. Lop-sided 5-petaled flowers emerge instead of little boy cut-outs waiting to be dressed up in frosting and candy.
Despite their shape and lack of thickness, they are delicious. And chewy. I suppose I should be grateful that they didn't burn, or are otherwise inedible. I shall cast aside all my cookie cares and worries and bask in the satisfaction that something I've made brings smiles and sighs of delight to my family and friends. A toast, then, to Cookies!
This year may be different. After the move, I will have 3 days to bake cookies before Christmas. I suppose I could bake some AFTER Christmas, but then, are they still Christmas cookies? Are they as good for New Years? I'm not sure. I've made chocolate chip cookies a few times, but none so far as to be called Christmas cookies. In those 3 short days, which recipes will jump to the top of the stack? Which cookies will be worthy of making, in absence of all the rest? Macaroons, with their sweet, sticky coconut bodies topped with a bit of maraschino cherry? Peanut butter blossoms, half-melted Hershey kisses pressed into warm, sugar-coated peanut butter rounds? Magic mints, their peppermint combining with the chocolate ever so perfectly, their tops crackled with powdered sugar? Fruitcake cookies, for those who shun the real fruitcake, these will make you change your mind? Scotch-a-roos, those elusive cookies so good we haven't ever tasted them yet? My famous sugar cookies, cut into so many festive designs, splashed with colorful, simple frosting?
I wish I could make them all, but today I'm baking up the rest of the gingerbread dough I made last week. It was my first shot at gingerbread. It's mighty tasty, but not as soft and poofy as I imagine really awesome gingerbread cookies to be. They look all poofy in the oven, and as soon as I pull them out, they go flat. Like a souffle. Delicious, thick, chewy cookies fresh out of the oven are, in seconds, demoted to flat, indistinguishable blobs, for not only have they caved in, they've spread. My meticulously cut gingerbread men could not hold their shape. Lop-sided 5-petaled flowers emerge instead of little boy cut-outs waiting to be dressed up in frosting and candy.
Despite their shape and lack of thickness, they are delicious. And chewy. I suppose I should be grateful that they didn't burn, or are otherwise inedible. I shall cast aside all my cookie cares and worries and bask in the satisfaction that something I've made brings smiles and sighs of delight to my family and friends. A toast, then, to Cookies!
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
It's December!
Well, as my title suggests, it's December. It seems I'm averaging about two blog posts a month. I'd like to change that. And I don't mean give up altogether. I would really like to keep blogging, but I'm not sure what my direction is. Talking about myself every time seems so trivial and boring. But I suppose that's why people create personal blogs, amirite?
I'm currently sitting in my Phonetics class not paying attention. If anyone says anything, I'll just show them my collection of A's and leave it at that. It's not really that difficult and the professor lays everything out for us pretty thoroughly. And this current section seems only slightly harder [for me] because it looks like it involves more math and numbers. The heading on the power point slide that's showing right now is "Average vowel spectra values for several male speakers." Oy. Syntax is going along swimmingly as well. I can't wait for this semester to finally be over already! Finals should be a breeze. The only thing I actually have to do work on is an article summary for which I haven't read the article yet. Twelve pages of drivel that I must summarize in one paragraph. No biggie. The hardest part is trying to understand all the technical verbiage of the experiment that it's about.
But let's forget school for a while. Like, forever. The bigger, more important thing that's happening this month is MOVING. Yes, my dear New Jersians (Jerseyans? Jerseyites?), I will be heading north (WAY north) on the 20th of this month. I'm excited and sad at the same time. I love North Country, the mountains, the trees, the clean, fresh air, the lack of light pollution, the list goes on. I'm excited about this being almost like the start of a new life, a fresh start to everything. But I'm sad because, well, I've lived in the same place for 28 years, pretty much my entire life. My daughter is going to the same elementary school that I went to at her age. It's all so nostalgic! All my friends whom I've known my whole life are here. I'm going to miss the diversity of practically being a suburb of New York City. I'm going to miss the City! I was never one to go to the City very often, but in the past 2 years I think I've gone there more than I have in the whole rest of my life combined. I'm going to miss this mecca of culture, the sites and sounds of the city that never sleeps.
More trivial things I'm going to miss is good Chinese food. A good slice of NY pizza. I'm going to miss a good bagel! As much as I hate the kids in the neighborhood running rampant, I'm going to miss it, too. I'm going to miss telling Caelyn to just go outside and play with her friends. That population density is really a pro of living in an apartment complex sometimes.
If I had any confidence at all in finding a job (in like, a week) that would give me a salary conducive to living in Bergen county, I probably would be more inclined NOT to move. I've thought about it every which way, and it's just not meant to be. Right now. If I ever, EVER, have the opportunity to move back to Bergen county, I probably would.
Trying to find a plus side, I will be very close to Canada! Trip to Montreal, anyone? Another plus is that the house is HUGE. Plenty of room for guests. (hint hint). Also very close to an Indian Reservation. Gambling and Bingo, anyone? But really, I shouldn't have to lure anyone to come visit me with promises of flashy lights and travel across the border, right? RIGHT?? I kid. But really, six hours is a long way away, so I guess I'll have to get used to video chatting? Skype, anyone?
At any rate, I'll probably talk more on moving in a future post, probably about actually packing (boy do I have a lot to say about that), and hopefully an uneventful final trip up, leaving behind an empty apartment and arriving at our destination. Not the final destination by any means, but a destination nonetheless. If I don't blog again until after the move, I shall see you all on the other side, as they say.
I'm currently sitting in my Phonetics class not paying attention. If anyone says anything, I'll just show them my collection of A's and leave it at that. It's not really that difficult and the professor lays everything out for us pretty thoroughly. And this current section seems only slightly harder [for me] because it looks like it involves more math and numbers. The heading on the power point slide that's showing right now is "Average vowel spectra values for several male speakers." Oy. Syntax is going along swimmingly as well. I can't wait for this semester to finally be over already! Finals should be a breeze. The only thing I actually have to do work on is an article summary for which I haven't read the article yet. Twelve pages of drivel that I must summarize in one paragraph. No biggie. The hardest part is trying to understand all the technical verbiage of the experiment that it's about.
But let's forget school for a while. Like, forever. The bigger, more important thing that's happening this month is MOVING. Yes, my dear New Jersians (Jerseyans? Jerseyites?), I will be heading north (WAY north) on the 20th of this month. I'm excited and sad at the same time. I love North Country, the mountains, the trees, the clean, fresh air, the lack of light pollution, the list goes on. I'm excited about this being almost like the start of a new life, a fresh start to everything. But I'm sad because, well, I've lived in the same place for 28 years, pretty much my entire life. My daughter is going to the same elementary school that I went to at her age. It's all so nostalgic! All my friends whom I've known my whole life are here. I'm going to miss the diversity of practically being a suburb of New York City. I'm going to miss the City! I was never one to go to the City very often, but in the past 2 years I think I've gone there more than I have in the whole rest of my life combined. I'm going to miss this mecca of culture, the sites and sounds of the city that never sleeps.
More trivial things I'm going to miss is good Chinese food. A good slice of NY pizza. I'm going to miss a good bagel! As much as I hate the kids in the neighborhood running rampant, I'm going to miss it, too. I'm going to miss telling Caelyn to just go outside and play with her friends. That population density is really a pro of living in an apartment complex sometimes.
If I had any confidence at all in finding a job (in like, a week) that would give me a salary conducive to living in Bergen county, I probably would be more inclined NOT to move. I've thought about it every which way, and it's just not meant to be. Right now. If I ever, EVER, have the opportunity to move back to Bergen county, I probably would.
Trying to find a plus side, I will be very close to Canada! Trip to Montreal, anyone? Another plus is that the house is HUGE. Plenty of room for guests. (hint hint). Also very close to an Indian Reservation. Gambling and Bingo, anyone? But really, I shouldn't have to lure anyone to come visit me with promises of flashy lights and travel across the border, right? RIGHT?? I kid. But really, six hours is a long way away, so I guess I'll have to get used to video chatting? Skype, anyone?
At any rate, I'll probably talk more on moving in a future post, probably about actually packing (boy do I have a lot to say about that), and hopefully an uneventful final trip up, leaving behind an empty apartment and arriving at our destination. Not the final destination by any means, but a destination nonetheless. If I don't blog again until after the move, I shall see you all on the other side, as they say.
Friday, November 5, 2010
SPARK Poem
It's the first draft, and what I'll be posting on the SPARK website, as well as right here. My netbook is about to die and I feel too tired to get up and plug it in. Here's my poem, and I'll have to edit later to add in the picture that was the "inspiration" to it.
Walking Away
We can’t be friends.
We can’t be friends.
I put you in the trash
after what you did
like so many others
did the same to me
you did the same to me
We can’t be friends.
We can’t be friends.
it takes trust
and mine in you
is broken.
It’s broken.
Forever.
What can you do to regain it?
Nothing.
You can’t do anything.
I put you in the trash
like so many others
what you did to me
you did to so many others.
We can’t be friends.
don’t even try.
We can’t.
I can’t.
I remember what we had.
Thought we had.
Never had.
Never will have.
Wish we could have.
I put you in the trash and
we can’t be friends.
Walking Away
We can’t be friends.
We can’t be friends.
I put you in the trash
after what you did
like so many others
did the same to me
you did the same to me
We can’t be friends.
We can’t be friends.
it takes trust
and mine in you
is broken.
It’s broken.
Forever.
What can you do to regain it?
Nothing.
You can’t do anything.
I put you in the trash
like so many others
what you did to me
you did to so many others.
We can’t be friends.
don’t even try.
We can’t.
I can’t.
I remember what we had.
Thought we had.
Never had.
Never will have.
Wish we could have.
I put you in the trash and
we can’t be friends.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
A Few Short Thoughts
I'll go in order of how I remember them, because there were a few things I wanted to say but didn't think each one individually warranted its own separate post.
1. When parents say "I wish my kid would stop getting so big!" it bugs me. Not because I don't feel the same way. I do. Time goes so fast and I barely remember my big 5-yr old when she was a tiny infant. I barely remember cradling her in my arms, and now she is independent, she wants to go outside and play with her friends before she gives me a welcome hug and kiss when she comes home from her dad's, she's in school for christ's sake!.. What bothers me about this "I wish my kid would stop growing" sentiment is one small passing comment my mom made to me when I said that to her about Caelyn. She said, "There's only one way for them to stop growing." And of course she was referring to my sister Katie, who died of a cancerous, inoperable brain tumor when she was only 6 years old. She will ALWAYS be 6. And that kind of "stop growing" is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. So when someone says, "My kid is getting so big I wish he would stop!" I hold my tongue.
2. Does taste in coffee mature with age? Or does it somehow reflect our current mood and emotions? I've been pondering this recently because I've found my taste in coffee choice radically changing. I used to be the Breakfast Blend or French Vanilla extra light extra sweet kind of coffee drinker. Now I find that a light brew almost tastes like water. I find myself putting less sugar and less creamer in my coffee, and prefer to drink a darker brew, a French Roast or some other such "dark" type. Is this my maturing of coffee taste? Or maybe it's me being stressed out and so needing a deeper, richer jolt in the morning? My other thought about this was a little more disturbing: The coffee I'm drinking right now almost tastes like DFAC coffee... and I like it. *shudder* Don't get me wrong, though, I still crave a light and sweet iced coffee every once in a while, but for the most part, dark and bitter have been suiting me just fine.
3. I bought a class ring. Not the wisest decision given my current financial status. But I did it. I'm graduating this semester, barring any failing of classes, and I really feel like after a 10-year journey to this damn degree, I want something, for myself, to show for it. Besides the requisite diploma, of course. The only other thing I want is the tassel. I totally missed booking a sitting for yearbook pictures. Not that I'm going to buy a yearbook, I don't know anyone else in my graduating class and I wasn't active in anything on campus to make me want to fondly remember my college years. Which I've spent half of being a part-time commuter just wishing for it to be over already.
4. I'm sure there was one more thing I wanted to put down here, but I've forgotten. My memory is very bad, so that is all!
1. When parents say "I wish my kid would stop getting so big!" it bugs me. Not because I don't feel the same way. I do. Time goes so fast and I barely remember my big 5-yr old when she was a tiny infant. I barely remember cradling her in my arms, and now she is independent, she wants to go outside and play with her friends before she gives me a welcome hug and kiss when she comes home from her dad's, she's in school for christ's sake!.. What bothers me about this "I wish my kid would stop growing" sentiment is one small passing comment my mom made to me when I said that to her about Caelyn. She said, "There's only one way for them to stop growing." And of course she was referring to my sister Katie, who died of a cancerous, inoperable brain tumor when she was only 6 years old. She will ALWAYS be 6. And that kind of "stop growing" is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. So when someone says, "My kid is getting so big I wish he would stop!" I hold my tongue.
2. Does taste in coffee mature with age? Or does it somehow reflect our current mood and emotions? I've been pondering this recently because I've found my taste in coffee choice radically changing. I used to be the Breakfast Blend or French Vanilla extra light extra sweet kind of coffee drinker. Now I find that a light brew almost tastes like water. I find myself putting less sugar and less creamer in my coffee, and prefer to drink a darker brew, a French Roast or some other such "dark" type. Is this my maturing of coffee taste? Or maybe it's me being stressed out and so needing a deeper, richer jolt in the morning? My other thought about this was a little more disturbing: The coffee I'm drinking right now almost tastes like DFAC coffee... and I like it. *shudder* Don't get me wrong, though, I still crave a light and sweet iced coffee every once in a while, but for the most part, dark and bitter have been suiting me just fine.
3. I bought a class ring. Not the wisest decision given my current financial status. But I did it. I'm graduating this semester, barring any failing of classes, and I really feel like after a 10-year journey to this damn degree, I want something, for myself, to show for it. Besides the requisite diploma, of course. The only other thing I want is the tassel. I totally missed booking a sitting for yearbook pictures. Not that I'm going to buy a yearbook, I don't know anyone else in my graduating class and I wasn't active in anything on campus to make me want to fondly remember my college years. Which I've spent half of being a part-time commuter just wishing for it to be over already.
4. I'm sure there was one more thing I wanted to put down here, but I've forgotten. My memory is very bad, so that is all!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month
This is my first disclaimer: if you get queasy about girl-part details, don't read this post. Just wait for my next blog post.
Also, before I get to what I want to write about, let me first state that THIS POST IS NOT MEANT, IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, TO BELITTLE, DEMEAN, OR IN ANY OTHER WAY DIMINISH THE EMOTIONAL AND/OR PHYSICAL HARDSHIPS OF LOSING A CHILD WHETHER THROUGH MISCARRIAGE, STILL BIRTH, OR OTHER MEANS AFTER BIRTH.
That was my second disclaimer. Because it's true, and some people may get sensitive about my seemingly heartlessness. Because what I'm thinking about this month, since October is apparently Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, is why I don't feel sad or think about my own loss. Granted it was six long years ago, but even a year after, even two months after, I did not feel any deep sadness or grief or emptiness.
And let me say that when it happened I DID feel terrible. It was excruciatingly emotionally debilitating. For about a week. Seriously. I cried my eyes out while waiting to go in for the D&C, I broke into tears when I talked about it. I cried at the damn mall when I passed the maternity stores because I wasn't pregnant anymore. It hurt to watch other prego-bellies walk in and out of the store buying fat clothes that they will only wear for the next 4 or 5 months because I wasn't one of them anymore.
But then I was fine. Maybe it was because of my lack of involvement. Here's how it went down: I conceived in April 2004. Presumably due in January '05. No insurance. No ob/gyn. Set up an appointment at the clinic at the hospital, but they couldn't get me in until the end of July. I guess I thought this was ok. That would have put me at around 4 months pregnant. Mid-July I started having slight cramping pains in my uterus-area, and started to spot lightly.
Up until that point I believed my pregnancy was going fine, that I was having a normal non-complicated pregnancy. Sure I felt sick quite often, but I put it off as just morning sickness. And this is what I mean when I said "lack of involvement." I was not involved in the pregnancy. I was stressed out (relationship issues, which is something I will probably never go into), and did not have a doctor to communicate with about what was going on. No blood tests, no ultrasounds, not even a blood pressure test to tell me if I really WAS having a healthy pregnancy. It was four months of mindlessness.
At any rate, the cramping (and by cramping I mean a slight pinching feeling every 5-10 minutes) continued for a few days, during which time I went on vacation with my family. I told my mom about the spotting, and I think she figured it out then, and I think I had it figured out as well, but I wanted to believe it wasn't anything serious.
Two more days went by and I wake up and both symptoms had gotten a little bit worse. Worse meaning the cramps, though not any more painful, had gotten to about 2 minutes apart. My mom insisted we go to the hospital. Two minutes later and there would have been a very bad mess in the car. We got there, I got admitted, I was asked to give a urine sample (and at this point I was still only lightly spotting), and when I went to go pee in the cup... Let's just say all hell broke loose. Literally. I felt like I was dying; the gushing just wouldn't let up for a minute (and that includes the tears from my eyes and boogers from my nose). My mind was completely in denial. All I was focusing on was giving that damn urine sample. I had the cup in one hand, and ball after ball after ball of toilet paper in the other, trying desperately to clean myself enough to put some clear pee in the cup. It wasn't happening.
I guess finally the nurse came in and gave me a huge gigantic pad to wear (which didn't help really, I think they changed the absorbant pad under me no less than five times), and they decided that the only thing to do was to put me under for a D&C because it was obviously too much for me to pass on my own. And in case you don't know what a D&C is, it stands for Dilation and Curettage. They surgically scrape out all the stuff inside (like scooping seeds out of a pumpkin) so your body doesn't have to do it on its own. It's basically what they do when you have an abortion.
I remember talking to the anesthesiologist, then I remember waking up and feeling really hungry. Painless. I ate a really awesome hospital meal of chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, and then was free to go home. They couldn't tell me the cause of miscarriage. By all counts I should have been 4 months along already, that would have meant a definite fetus. There was none. All the paper I clogged the toilet with made it impossible for them to get a sample of whatever was left. What they scraped out was nothing definitive either; just blobs and lumps and clots. Their best guess was that it was a missed miscarriage, where the fetus dies very early on, never develops because of chromosomal issues, and my body just hadn't felt the need to expel it until then.
That was it. I think I moped around most of the rest of the day, and the next day we went out for my dad's birthday. The next day I drove myself home and cried all over again (and got drunk. Really drunk). I may have had no more than 2 more complete break-downs about the ordeal.
The other reason I think I recovered so quickly is because I got pregnant only two months later and went on to have my daughter, Caelyn, the following June. And that is not to say I felt like she replaced the one I lost. I just never felt like I lost a child. Under the circumstances (which I have so graciously detailed for you), it never felt like a child. To me, there was no face, no footprints, no heartbeat, nothing. It was just globs of bloody tissue that had to get scraped out of me. I never felt a bond with that unborn being, I never got to think of that unborn being as a child growing inside of me. My mental thought process was "yay pregnant. wtf miscarriage." Period. End of story. And that may sound extremely callous to some. Maybe to most.
Let me also add that I was not in a happy relationship. I was not in control of my life. There was no focus, no long-term goals, no aspirations. I dropped out of college. My life was a real mess. I had no room to stress about bloody clots that I never thought were a baby to begin with.
All my sympathy goes out to all the women who have dealt with loss in a real way. Not my way. I will never understand those feelings, those emotions of grief and mourning because I have never truly felt them myself about experiencing my own loss. All my sympathy also goes out to all the women who have lost young children, because I watched, and lived through, my mom losing her daughter, my sister, Katie to cancer at only 6 years old. Now THAT still affects me to this day. She was in my life for almost 7 years; I watched and experienced her growing from a baby into an amazing little girl. And while I will always weep her passing, I will also remember the good times we shared together, and the brightness she brought to the world for such a short time.
And perhaps that is a third reason I don't mourn my own loss. It was a mere blip in my life compared to the pain and agony of watching my sister deteriorate from the moment of her diagnosis to the moment of her death almost exactly a year later. Bleeding for twenty minutes and then having surgery to erase what I had never even seen is nothing compared to watching my young sister, (and mind, I was 15 at the time) who was in my life for almost half of it at that point, take her last breath. My loss seems insignificant compared to that.
So, yes, I have all the sympathy in the world for those who mourn, for those who grieve, for those who have lost once or multiple times. Because I can do that, even though I don't mourn my own. Recognize, Respect, and have Sympathy for those who have ever lost this October, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
Also, before I get to what I want to write about, let me first state that THIS POST IS NOT MEANT, IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, TO BELITTLE, DEMEAN, OR IN ANY OTHER WAY DIMINISH THE EMOTIONAL AND/OR PHYSICAL HARDSHIPS OF LOSING A CHILD WHETHER THROUGH MISCARRIAGE, STILL BIRTH, OR OTHER MEANS AFTER BIRTH.
That was my second disclaimer. Because it's true, and some people may get sensitive about my seemingly heartlessness. Because what I'm thinking about this month, since October is apparently Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, is why I don't feel sad or think about my own loss. Granted it was six long years ago, but even a year after, even two months after, I did not feel any deep sadness or grief or emptiness.
And let me say that when it happened I DID feel terrible. It was excruciatingly emotionally debilitating. For about a week. Seriously. I cried my eyes out while waiting to go in for the D&C, I broke into tears when I talked about it. I cried at the damn mall when I passed the maternity stores because I wasn't pregnant anymore. It hurt to watch other prego-bellies walk in and out of the store buying fat clothes that they will only wear for the next 4 or 5 months because I wasn't one of them anymore.
But then I was fine. Maybe it was because of my lack of involvement. Here's how it went down: I conceived in April 2004. Presumably due in January '05. No insurance. No ob/gyn. Set up an appointment at the clinic at the hospital, but they couldn't get me in until the end of July. I guess I thought this was ok. That would have put me at around 4 months pregnant. Mid-July I started having slight cramping pains in my uterus-area, and started to spot lightly.
Up until that point I believed my pregnancy was going fine, that I was having a normal non-complicated pregnancy. Sure I felt sick quite often, but I put it off as just morning sickness. And this is what I mean when I said "lack of involvement." I was not involved in the pregnancy. I was stressed out (relationship issues, which is something I will probably never go into), and did not have a doctor to communicate with about what was going on. No blood tests, no ultrasounds, not even a blood pressure test to tell me if I really WAS having a healthy pregnancy. It was four months of mindlessness.
At any rate, the cramping (and by cramping I mean a slight pinching feeling every 5-10 minutes) continued for a few days, during which time I went on vacation with my family. I told my mom about the spotting, and I think she figured it out then, and I think I had it figured out as well, but I wanted to believe it wasn't anything serious.
Two more days went by and I wake up and both symptoms had gotten a little bit worse. Worse meaning the cramps, though not any more painful, had gotten to about 2 minutes apart. My mom insisted we go to the hospital. Two minutes later and there would have been a very bad mess in the car. We got there, I got admitted, I was asked to give a urine sample (and at this point I was still only lightly spotting), and when I went to go pee in the cup... Let's just say all hell broke loose. Literally. I felt like I was dying; the gushing just wouldn't let up for a minute (and that includes the tears from my eyes and boogers from my nose). My mind was completely in denial. All I was focusing on was giving that damn urine sample. I had the cup in one hand, and ball after ball after ball of toilet paper in the other, trying desperately to clean myself enough to put some clear pee in the cup. It wasn't happening.
I guess finally the nurse came in and gave me a huge gigantic pad to wear (which didn't help really, I think they changed the absorbant pad under me no less than five times), and they decided that the only thing to do was to put me under for a D&C because it was obviously too much for me to pass on my own. And in case you don't know what a D&C is, it stands for Dilation and Curettage. They surgically scrape out all the stuff inside (like scooping seeds out of a pumpkin) so your body doesn't have to do it on its own. It's basically what they do when you have an abortion.
I remember talking to the anesthesiologist, then I remember waking up and feeling really hungry. Painless. I ate a really awesome hospital meal of chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, and then was free to go home. They couldn't tell me the cause of miscarriage. By all counts I should have been 4 months along already, that would have meant a definite fetus. There was none. All the paper I clogged the toilet with made it impossible for them to get a sample of whatever was left. What they scraped out was nothing definitive either; just blobs and lumps and clots. Their best guess was that it was a missed miscarriage, where the fetus dies very early on, never develops because of chromosomal issues, and my body just hadn't felt the need to expel it until then.
That was it. I think I moped around most of the rest of the day, and the next day we went out for my dad's birthday. The next day I drove myself home and cried all over again (and got drunk. Really drunk). I may have had no more than 2 more complete break-downs about the ordeal.
The other reason I think I recovered so quickly is because I got pregnant only two months later and went on to have my daughter, Caelyn, the following June. And that is not to say I felt like she replaced the one I lost. I just never felt like I lost a child. Under the circumstances (which I have so graciously detailed for you), it never felt like a child. To me, there was no face, no footprints, no heartbeat, nothing. It was just globs of bloody tissue that had to get scraped out of me. I never felt a bond with that unborn being, I never got to think of that unborn being as a child growing inside of me. My mental thought process was "yay pregnant. wtf miscarriage." Period. End of story. And that may sound extremely callous to some. Maybe to most.
Let me also add that I was not in a happy relationship. I was not in control of my life. There was no focus, no long-term goals, no aspirations. I dropped out of college. My life was a real mess. I had no room to stress about bloody clots that I never thought were a baby to begin with.
All my sympathy goes out to all the women who have dealt with loss in a real way. Not my way. I will never understand those feelings, those emotions of grief and mourning because I have never truly felt them myself about experiencing my own loss. All my sympathy also goes out to all the women who have lost young children, because I watched, and lived through, my mom losing her daughter, my sister, Katie to cancer at only 6 years old. Now THAT still affects me to this day. She was in my life for almost 7 years; I watched and experienced her growing from a baby into an amazing little girl. And while I will always weep her passing, I will also remember the good times we shared together, and the brightness she brought to the world for such a short time.
And perhaps that is a third reason I don't mourn my own loss. It was a mere blip in my life compared to the pain and agony of watching my sister deteriorate from the moment of her diagnosis to the moment of her death almost exactly a year later. Bleeding for twenty minutes and then having surgery to erase what I had never even seen is nothing compared to watching my young sister, (and mind, I was 15 at the time) who was in my life for almost half of it at that point, take her last breath. My loss seems insignificant compared to that.
So, yes, I have all the sympathy in the world for those who mourn, for those who grieve, for those who have lost once or multiple times. Because I can do that, even though I don't mourn my own. Recognize, Respect, and have Sympathy for those who have ever lost this October, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Lethargy
This is the main reason I haven't blogged in a while. I've been feeling really lethargic. Not just physically, but more mentally than anything. I'm having a hard time remembering things, staying focused, and just plain thinking straight. I feel like my brain is burnt out. I've been thinking about so many things that I think I finally just stopped thinking altogether.
I have to do well this semester to graduate. I've been preoccupied with Caelyn going to school as well. It's double homework for me with all the notices and fund raisers she's brought home so far just in the first 2 weeks. I am infinitely glad that she gets free school lunches because if she didn't I would probably forget to feed her. Work has been slow. I am so distracted by anything and everything in the house right now. Too many people and too much mess and I'm the only one home most days to clean up. Which I shouldn't really be spending all my time on since I'm supposed to be working.
Then there's the moving thing. Trying to pack boxes here and boxes there, deciding what I don't really need for the next 3 months and can send up to the house. And all that takes time, too. I guess all the problems stem from there being a deficient amount of time to work with. I need the days to be at least 3 hours longer each. Then maybe I'll be able to feel productive.
I'm feeling pretty unproductive right now writing this blog because there are at least three other things I should be doing instead. Getting Caelyn ready for bed (I've told her to brush her teeth 5 times already, but of course I need to be right on top of her to do anything these days. At least she's in her pajamas), the dishes need to get washed, even though I think my mom is going to do them, she's on the phone so now the dishes are sitting getting all crusty. The carpet hasn't been vacuumed in at least 4 days, and I meant to do it today but never got around to it. Mostly because Caelyn had her friend over for most of the day, and the other reason was because I was futzing around online. And then I was cooking dinner.
I've gotten to the point where I need to put alerts in my phone to remind myself to do really stupid easy things so I won't forget. And I'm not talking about like when something is on your mind and you're still thinking about it and just procrastinate. I'm talking about like, at around 8:30am I'll tell myself "Ok I have to call her pediatrician after 10 because that's when they open," and I won't remember that I had to make the phone call until we're going to bed and the office is closed and everything. And then I say "I have to remember tomorrow to call..." It's a vicious cycle of reminding and honestly forgetting. My mom will say "can you open the window to get a breeze in here?" and I will literally say, "Ok, sure thing," and then NOT do it because I forgot that quickly. I think I have to start setting an alarm to eat, because I've lost 4 pounds (not that I'm complaining about the weight loss), but I'm pretty sure it's because I've become accidentally anorexic. I just forget to eat.
I'm really not sure how to fix this problem. Any suggestions will be greatly appreciated. As for now, I am going to try my best to start drinking a LOT more water and to start running every day. I've fallen into a really bad slump and I need to get out of it. I think hydrating (I really don't drink anything during the day: cup of coffee in the morning, maybe a glass of juice at dinner. Usually nothing in between. I know, it's so bad) and getting more active may help with my brain functions. If I'm still as addled in two weeks as I am right now, well, then I have no idea what I'll do. But I haven't gotten there yet, so for now I have to go and get ready for bed and make sure my sleep-deprived daughter is sleeping as well.
I have to do well this semester to graduate. I've been preoccupied with Caelyn going to school as well. It's double homework for me with all the notices and fund raisers she's brought home so far just in the first 2 weeks. I am infinitely glad that she gets free school lunches because if she didn't I would probably forget to feed her. Work has been slow. I am so distracted by anything and everything in the house right now. Too many people and too much mess and I'm the only one home most days to clean up. Which I shouldn't really be spending all my time on since I'm supposed to be working.
Then there's the moving thing. Trying to pack boxes here and boxes there, deciding what I don't really need for the next 3 months and can send up to the house. And all that takes time, too. I guess all the problems stem from there being a deficient amount of time to work with. I need the days to be at least 3 hours longer each. Then maybe I'll be able to feel productive.
I'm feeling pretty unproductive right now writing this blog because there are at least three other things I should be doing instead. Getting Caelyn ready for bed (I've told her to brush her teeth 5 times already, but of course I need to be right on top of her to do anything these days. At least she's in her pajamas), the dishes need to get washed, even though I think my mom is going to do them, she's on the phone so now the dishes are sitting getting all crusty. The carpet hasn't been vacuumed in at least 4 days, and I meant to do it today but never got around to it. Mostly because Caelyn had her friend over for most of the day, and the other reason was because I was futzing around online. And then I was cooking dinner.
I've gotten to the point where I need to put alerts in my phone to remind myself to do really stupid easy things so I won't forget. And I'm not talking about like when something is on your mind and you're still thinking about it and just procrastinate. I'm talking about like, at around 8:30am I'll tell myself "Ok I have to call her pediatrician after 10 because that's when they open," and I won't remember that I had to make the phone call until we're going to bed and the office is closed and everything. And then I say "I have to remember tomorrow to call..." It's a vicious cycle of reminding and honestly forgetting. My mom will say "can you open the window to get a breeze in here?" and I will literally say, "Ok, sure thing," and then NOT do it because I forgot that quickly. I think I have to start setting an alarm to eat, because I've lost 4 pounds (not that I'm complaining about the weight loss), but I'm pretty sure it's because I've become accidentally anorexic. I just forget to eat.
I'm really not sure how to fix this problem. Any suggestions will be greatly appreciated. As for now, I am going to try my best to start drinking a LOT more water and to start running every day. I've fallen into a really bad slump and I need to get out of it. I think hydrating (I really don't drink anything during the day: cup of coffee in the morning, maybe a glass of juice at dinner. Usually nothing in between. I know, it's so bad) and getting more active may help with my brain functions. If I'm still as addled in two weeks as I am right now, well, then I have no idea what I'll do. But I haven't gotten there yet, so for now I have to go and get ready for bed and make sure my sleep-deprived daughter is sleeping as well.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
School
Well, my last semester has started. I had a couple of issues with how to pay for it, but thankfully things have worked out for the better. I won't say best, because the best got lost a long time ago, but better is better than working out for the worst, wouldn't you agree? I thought I was getting grant money, then I wasn't. Then I was again, then not as much as I had hoped I would get. In the end I took out a dreaded student loan (I REALLY did not want to resort to that, but it's not a lot) to cover the rest of what I owe for tuition, and the rest will be enough to finally pay off my car with some left over (I say finally like I've been at it forever, which isn't true. It hasn't even been a full 2 years on a 6-yr loan. Go me!). At any rate, I will feel a whole lot better not having to worry about a car note (with an astronomical interest rate because my credit is less-than-shiny), and to be able to work on paying back a student loan at a lower interest rate with lower monthly payments. And that's not to say that I will only pay the minimum, it's just a relief from having to pay quadruple that amount on my car.
Am I getting too personal into my finances? We all have our troubles, and I admit mine aren't all that bad. A few credit cards, and soon to be a student loan. Which I plan on paying off ASAP. Which may not be as ASAP as I hope. All speculative at this point, so I won't dwell.
On to more interesting things: my actual classes! I think I had my expectations reversed. I fully expected my syntax class to be the harder of the two. So far it seems pretty rudimentary, and there will be a LOT of discussion and reviewing of material so I'm not worried about maybe not understanding something. Slow and steady seems to be my professor's mantra on this one. Phonetics, on the other hand, while not as "slow and steady," still looks like it will be relatively easy, but not as easy as I had first thought. As long as I get to look at the charts, I'll be ok. I did look through the text book and saw a bunch of waves and confusing math-y looking equations and let's just say that it didn't make me smile.
I just have to keep in mind that THIS IS IT. No more school [for now]. I even went to the registrar to make sure I didn't have to do anything else to be able to graduate. Which I don't. Hooray! All I have to do now is pass these classes and I will be an official graduate with diploma in hand by mid-February!!
And now my daughter. She started Kindergarten last week! I can't believe she's going to real school now. And I already have the first fund raiser of the year, AND I'm volunteering to help out with the book fair next week. I guess I just think it's weird that it's the school that I attended, and her principal is my old middle school principal. It also seems that all the K-age kids' parents have been around the block before, have older kids so they already know each other, or have younger kids and already know each other.
I suppose it's mostly my fault for not being more active in my community. But really, I'm not the most sociable person. I'm actually not very sociable at all. Plus we're moving at the end of December, so right now I feel no need to create lasting bonds with anyone here. I guess as long as Caelyn behaves herself, I get her to do all her work, and get her to bed early enough to not be a cranky cry-baby in the mornings, we'll be OK.
Am I getting too personal into my finances? We all have our troubles, and I admit mine aren't all that bad. A few credit cards, and soon to be a student loan. Which I plan on paying off ASAP. Which may not be as ASAP as I hope. All speculative at this point, so I won't dwell.
On to more interesting things: my actual classes! I think I had my expectations reversed. I fully expected my syntax class to be the harder of the two. So far it seems pretty rudimentary, and there will be a LOT of discussion and reviewing of material so I'm not worried about maybe not understanding something. Slow and steady seems to be my professor's mantra on this one. Phonetics, on the other hand, while not as "slow and steady," still looks like it will be relatively easy, but not as easy as I had first thought. As long as I get to look at the charts, I'll be ok. I did look through the text book and saw a bunch of waves and confusing math-y looking equations and let's just say that it didn't make me smile.
I just have to keep in mind that THIS IS IT. No more school [for now]. I even went to the registrar to make sure I didn't have to do anything else to be able to graduate. Which I don't. Hooray! All I have to do now is pass these classes and I will be an official graduate with diploma in hand by mid-February!!
And now my daughter. She started Kindergarten last week! I can't believe she's going to real school now. And I already have the first fund raiser of the year, AND I'm volunteering to help out with the book fair next week. I guess I just think it's weird that it's the school that I attended, and her principal is my old middle school principal. It also seems that all the K-age kids' parents have been around the block before, have older kids so they already know each other, or have younger kids and already know each other.
I suppose it's mostly my fault for not being more active in my community. But really, I'm not the most sociable person. I'm actually not very sociable at all. Plus we're moving at the end of December, so right now I feel no need to create lasting bonds with anyone here. I guess as long as Caelyn behaves herself, I get her to do all her work, and get her to bed early enough to not be a cranky cry-baby in the mornings, we'll be OK.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Paper and Poetry
I'm going to keep this post short and to the point. I've had a lot on my mind the past week or so, between going upstate, getting me and Caelyn ready for school, and some propositions in regards to my writing (I will speak about that when things are more set in stone), I feel like I'm ready for a week of sleeping and not showing my face to the world at all.
The following is the response my Get Sparked partner created from the poem posted in my first previous blog post, Morning on Hoel Pond.
The following picture is the work of art that my partner sent to me, and then following the picture I'll post the poem that it inspired.
The following is the poem I wrote using this piece as inspiration.
Sea of Wanting
Shower of spring petals
dancing
Trees, flowers, adoration
growing
Silver sands of summer
enticing
Riding waves of desire
reeling
It was wonderful at first.
Everything was vibrant, colorful.
Life was full and then it wasn’t.
empty.
distant.
cold.
lost interest.
Shimmering autumn hopeful
shriveling
Threads that once bound us
unraveling
Snow-flecked winter winds
freezing
Break through fragile ice
sinking
Gone.
© Elizabeth Cordes, 2010
The following is the response my Get Sparked partner created from the poem posted in my first previous blog post, Morning on Hoel Pond.
 |
| "Hoel Pond" Canvas made of handmade paper, made by the Artist, Gwynne Mason, kakishibu dye, silk paper, mixed media. |
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| "He Said He Was No Longer Interested In Me" Handmade plant fiber papers, made and decorated by Gwynne Mason, mounted on a handmade silk tapestry, mixed media. |
Sea of Wanting
Shower of spring petals
dancing
Trees, flowers, adoration
growing
Silver sands of summer
enticing
Riding waves of desire
reeling
It was wonderful at first.
Everything was vibrant, colorful.
Life was full and then it wasn’t.
empty.
distant.
cold.
lost interest.
Shimmering autumn hopeful
shriveling
Threads that once bound us
unraveling
Snow-flecked winter winds
freezing
Break through fragile ice
sinking
Gone.
© Elizabeth Cordes, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Get Sparked, Paper and Flash Fiction
It would be an understatement to say that I am stoked about this upcoming Get Sparked! round. The last round I was in (and my first), I'm going to take as a learning experience, getting a feel for how the whole process works. I didn't really get to know, or feel a real connection to my partner. This time around is different. I've been paired up with a paper maker! She makes paper from domestically grown plant fibers, waste paper, and fabric in her own micro-mill out of her house. How awesome is that?
This is a fact that I don't get to put out very often, but I absolutely love the look and feel of homemade paper. I have a leather-bound book that my BFF Tim got me when he was in Iraq, and the paper inside is so soft and luscious, I haven't written a word in it because I feel like anything I put in it would mar its beauty. I do have to admit that I feel that way about any bound book of blank paper. It all seems so permanent. I've always preferred to write in spiral-bound notebooks (wide-rule, not college-rule) because if I didn't like something, I wouldn't feel bad about ripping it out or scribbling all over the page. But a bound book with a real spine, brimming with deliciously blank pages... Ahh, that is a delicacy I haven't yet had the nerve to taste, though I've grown quite the collection.
At any rate, I have until Wednesday to put my poetry hat on and blast out something stupendous for my paper-maker partner to make something equally stupendous from. I can't lie; I am really excited about this!
I also have to add that I am extremely happy with the responses I've gotten from my first flash fiction submission! Admittedly it's not my greatest piece of writing, but for the amount of time I actually spent working on it, and knowing beforehand most of the points that would most likely get 'nitpicked,' I have to be careful not to feel overly confident in it. There were only 3 or 4 other stories in my group posted, and they were all pretty fantastic. Which means there are potentially 15 other stories that are even better than what I've seen.
I am a little bit nervous about the scoring system. The top 15 ranked stories in each group will be scored between 1-25 points (1st gets 25, 2nd gets 22, etc.). So the bottom 5 stories get zilch. If I don't get points, it means I really sucked. I don't want to suck! At least for the Short Story contest if you didn't make the top 3, you didn't know if you were the next best or the worst. This one you know exactly where you rank. Despite that, though, I can't shake the confidence I feel right now. It's more than what I felt during the Short Story contest, so I'm just taking that as a good sign, and I will hopefully do even better with the next assignment. More than 3 more weeks to deliberate on that one, though, and school will distract me a bit.
This is a fact that I don't get to put out very often, but I absolutely love the look and feel of homemade paper. I have a leather-bound book that my BFF Tim got me when he was in Iraq, and the paper inside is so soft and luscious, I haven't written a word in it because I feel like anything I put in it would mar its beauty. I do have to admit that I feel that way about any bound book of blank paper. It all seems so permanent. I've always preferred to write in spiral-bound notebooks (wide-rule, not college-rule) because if I didn't like something, I wouldn't feel bad about ripping it out or scribbling all over the page. But a bound book with a real spine, brimming with deliciously blank pages... Ahh, that is a delicacy I haven't yet had the nerve to taste, though I've grown quite the collection.
At any rate, I have until Wednesday to put my poetry hat on and blast out something stupendous for my paper-maker partner to make something equally stupendous from. I can't lie; I am really excited about this!
I also have to add that I am extremely happy with the responses I've gotten from my first flash fiction submission! Admittedly it's not my greatest piece of writing, but for the amount of time I actually spent working on it, and knowing beforehand most of the points that would most likely get 'nitpicked,' I have to be careful not to feel overly confident in it. There were only 3 or 4 other stories in my group posted, and they were all pretty fantastic. Which means there are potentially 15 other stories that are even better than what I've seen.
I am a little bit nervous about the scoring system. The top 15 ranked stories in each group will be scored between 1-25 points (1st gets 25, 2nd gets 22, etc.). So the bottom 5 stories get zilch. If I don't get points, it means I really sucked. I don't want to suck! At least for the Short Story contest if you didn't make the top 3, you didn't know if you were the next best or the worst. This one you know exactly where you rank. Despite that, though, I can't shake the confidence I feel right now. It's more than what I felt during the Short Story contest, so I'm just taking that as a good sign, and I will hopefully do even better with the next assignment. More than 3 more weeks to deliberate on that one, though, and school will distract me a bit.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Not Fitting In
And I'm not even talking about socially, which has always been an issue with me. I get along with most everyone, but never quite feel like I'm a part of that "inner circle." I kind of straddle the line of that circle more often than not. But that's not what I want to talk about. What I'm talking about is support groups.
The point of finding a support group is to be able to talk about similar issues you all share. It's really sucky when you feel like you don't even fit in with people that have the same disease as you. And by disease, I mean PCOS. I know I've mentioned it a few times here already so I won't go into what that entails. I've joined a few online support forums for women with PCOS and still find that I don't fit in with them. We all have the same underlying medical issues, and most are going through similar life-setbacks. But not me! Oh no, of course not me.
It seems that the vast majority of women who have PCOS are either dealing with obesity linked to insulin resistance, or are dealing with infertility, also rooted with the insulin resistance. I am, at this moment, unsure whether I am seriously IR or not. I am definitely not obese, and I do not have to deal with infertility as I am not TTC (as this demographic refers to "trying to conceive").
I also do not feel depressed or emotionally lost because of my diagnosis. I realize that, yes, I may have trouble in the future if I ever face the chance to have another child, but even then, I can't imagine ever being completely overwhelmed by the trials that are potentially awaiting me. Maybe it's because I already have a kid? Maybe because getting married and wanting another kid isn't something I actually see in my near future? This situation is unreal to me, so I cannot reasonably relate to all these other women's feelings about it.
Most newbie posts have been pretty negative, like it's suddenly the end of the world. I can't feel that way. To me, it's just a health issue that can be effectively managed and controlled. There's no sense in worrying about possible fertility issues when I'm not dealing with them today. Today is what counts. If I spent all my time worrying about the future, I wouldn't even notice my todays.
The point of finding a support group is to be able to talk about similar issues you all share. It's really sucky when you feel like you don't even fit in with people that have the same disease as you. And by disease, I mean PCOS. I know I've mentioned it a few times here already so I won't go into what that entails. I've joined a few online support forums for women with PCOS and still find that I don't fit in with them. We all have the same underlying medical issues, and most are going through similar life-setbacks. But not me! Oh no, of course not me.
It seems that the vast majority of women who have PCOS are either dealing with obesity linked to insulin resistance, or are dealing with infertility, also rooted with the insulin resistance. I am, at this moment, unsure whether I am seriously IR or not. I am definitely not obese, and I do not have to deal with infertility as I am not TTC (as this demographic refers to "trying to conceive").
I also do not feel depressed or emotionally lost because of my diagnosis. I realize that, yes, I may have trouble in the future if I ever face the chance to have another child, but even then, I can't imagine ever being completely overwhelmed by the trials that are potentially awaiting me. Maybe it's because I already have a kid? Maybe because getting married and wanting another kid isn't something I actually see in my near future? This situation is unreal to me, so I cannot reasonably relate to all these other women's feelings about it.
Most newbie posts have been pretty negative, like it's suddenly the end of the world. I can't feel that way. To me, it's just a health issue that can be effectively managed and controlled. There's no sense in worrying about possible fertility issues when I'm not dealing with them today. Today is what counts. If I spent all my time worrying about the future, I wouldn't even notice my todays.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Dreams
I don't normally put much stock in dreams because PMS causes me to have very vivid ones. Most of which I don't remember, but the ones I do remember stick with me. Last night I had 2 very distinct dreams. I wish I had gotten up and written them down right away because now they are only fuzzy blurs, but enough that it still kind of disturbs me because they both involve anger and yelling.
The first one involved someone I am friends with on Facebook, have never met in person but are friends through a mutual friend. I was tied up in a chair, like a hostage, but not in a scary location. It was in a well-lit house, furnished living room and stuff, like I was at home, but it wasn't my home. And this person I think was questioning me, or yelling accusations at me. Or maybe it was more like excited jabbering. He was smiling. and acting excited, or crazed. Or it was about being lost; we couldn't find the way out (of a house?), which still doesn't explain the reason for me being tied up in a chair.
This is also strange because this is the second time that this person has appeared in a dream of mine. The first time he was narrating what was going on, like a blog-writer. Which is even more strange since I have never heard his voice before.
The second dream was me yelling at my daughter. And I mean really yelling. Not obscenities or anything, but flat out screaming stuff like, "DON'T DO THAT" "WOULD YOU STOP THAT, I MEAN IT" and stuff like that, that I am always telling her, but this time it was angry and very loud. And she didn't seem overly perturbed by it either. She was just going along her business and I'd yell at her to stop. I think this dream happened because I was hyper-aware of how extremely moody I was the last time I was PMS'ing. I would get frustrated, irritated, and angry at stupid little things, and yell at her, but then feel bad about it, but I still felt angry so I couldn't even apologize properly. I guess I felt a little guilty.
At any rate, that is it for now. We are going to take a trip to Kmart or Walmart and pick up some small Lego sets, because Caelyn has a Lego table in the play room and no Legos to play with on it.
The first one involved someone I am friends with on Facebook, have never met in person but are friends through a mutual friend. I was tied up in a chair, like a hostage, but not in a scary location. It was in a well-lit house, furnished living room and stuff, like I was at home, but it wasn't my home. And this person I think was questioning me, or yelling accusations at me. Or maybe it was more like excited jabbering. He was smiling. and acting excited, or crazed. Or it was about being lost; we couldn't find the way out (of a house?), which still doesn't explain the reason for me being tied up in a chair.
This is also strange because this is the second time that this person has appeared in a dream of mine. The first time he was narrating what was going on, like a blog-writer. Which is even more strange since I have never heard his voice before.
The second dream was me yelling at my daughter. And I mean really yelling. Not obscenities or anything, but flat out screaming stuff like, "DON'T DO THAT" "WOULD YOU STOP THAT, I MEAN IT" and stuff like that, that I am always telling her, but this time it was angry and very loud. And she didn't seem overly perturbed by it either. She was just going along her business and I'd yell at her to stop. I think this dream happened because I was hyper-aware of how extremely moody I was the last time I was PMS'ing. I would get frustrated, irritated, and angry at stupid little things, and yell at her, but then feel bad about it, but I still felt angry so I couldn't even apologize properly. I guess I felt a little guilty.
At any rate, that is it for now. We are going to take a trip to Kmart or Walmart and pick up some small Lego sets, because Caelyn has a Lego table in the play room and no Legos to play with on it.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
A Few Thoughts
I'm going to start with this one: "Shoot for the moon, because even if you miss you'll land among the stars." This does not make astronomical sense. Number one, the stars are WAY farther away than the moon. If you shoot for the moon and miss, most likely you'll burn up in Earth's atmosphere. If you're lucky. More than likely you'll wind up floating in the vacuum of space where no one can hear you scream. So, a better phrase would be to shoot for the stars, and if you miss you may land on the moon. In either case, though, I think I'd rather hold onto my position here on Earth. Where I can breath.
My second thought is: It's really bright outside today. Bright and a little bit warm. I've got my window fan and my ceiling fan going so it's at least comfortable here inside. Yes, I'm in Malone, NY again until the 15th when I will be making the depressing drive back to Jersey. It's not really that I hate Jersey, it's more that I like the mountains better. I do have to work while I am here, though, brought my computer and everything, but it's just nice to be here.
My third thought is: PCOS. I was recently diagnosed with this disorder, and for those who don't know the acronym, it stands for polycystic ovarian syndrome. It sounds much worse than it is, but I suppose for a lot of women it IS really bad. There are many manifestations of this disorder, and so far I'm thinking that mine is very mild since it hasn't disrupted anything major yet. Most women with pcos hate it because they are trying to get pregnant, and pcos basically is a "no baby for you" sentence. (pcos=no released egg=no ovulation=no fertilization=no baby. get it?) Fortunately, I am NOT trying to get pregnant. And without getting into too many details, pcos also can disrupt...womanly cycles. Mine have not been irregular to the point of saying "oh my gosh what the heck is going on?" so my body is still on some level of normal in that regard.
My fourth and final thought of the day: I have recently signed up for the next Get Sparked! round happening at the end of this month. I am also looking forward to the first round of the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction challenge, happening next weekend. What I'm NOT looking forward to is the fact that that is the weekend we will be packing and heading back to Jersey. At least it's only 1,000 words, right? I can knock that out in no time. But still, it will be one more thing to fit into the schedule. I would love to get past the first round in this one, so I'm really going to try hard. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be up to participating in NaNoWriMo again this year. I didn't do it last year, but the year before I actually broke 50,000 words which I was so proud of even though I didn't get close to the end of my story. I'd like to try and actually finish something this year.
My second thought is: It's really bright outside today. Bright and a little bit warm. I've got my window fan and my ceiling fan going so it's at least comfortable here inside. Yes, I'm in Malone, NY again until the 15th when I will be making the depressing drive back to Jersey. It's not really that I hate Jersey, it's more that I like the mountains better. I do have to work while I am here, though, brought my computer and everything, but it's just nice to be here.
My third thought is: PCOS. I was recently diagnosed with this disorder, and for those who don't know the acronym, it stands for polycystic ovarian syndrome. It sounds much worse than it is, but I suppose for a lot of women it IS really bad. There are many manifestations of this disorder, and so far I'm thinking that mine is very mild since it hasn't disrupted anything major yet. Most women with pcos hate it because they are trying to get pregnant, and pcos basically is a "no baby for you" sentence. (pcos=no released egg=no ovulation=no fertilization=no baby. get it?) Fortunately, I am NOT trying to get pregnant. And without getting into too many details, pcos also can disrupt...womanly cycles. Mine have not been irregular to the point of saying "oh my gosh what the heck is going on?" so my body is still on some level of normal in that regard.
My fourth and final thought of the day: I have recently signed up for the next Get Sparked! round happening at the end of this month. I am also looking forward to the first round of the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction challenge, happening next weekend. What I'm NOT looking forward to is the fact that that is the weekend we will be packing and heading back to Jersey. At least it's only 1,000 words, right? I can knock that out in no time. But still, it will be one more thing to fit into the schedule. I would love to get past the first round in this one, so I'm really going to try hard. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be up to participating in NaNoWriMo again this year. I didn't do it last year, but the year before I actually broke 50,000 words which I was so proud of even though I didn't get close to the end of my story. I'd like to try and actually finish something this year.
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