September 1, 2010
Waldo
So, I think I found him.
Not Waldo. John.
And no, I’ve not been writing about my journey to find some guy who’s going to fix everything. First of all, I can build my own extension cords, thankyouverymuch. Second, this was more about unleashing my emotional capitalist.
I grew up with a Marxist emotional economy, believing that I shouldn’t discriminate with my affections – that everyone deserved to have as much of my love and affection as I could give, no matter how they treated me. And yes, this is significantly the result of not ever being able to tell a certain parent that I didn’t deserve to be treated a certain way.
Whether or not it’s a parent’s right to treat their kids however they want within the confines of the law is a debate for someone else to engage. I’ve been a lot less interested in the should’ves of the situation than I’ve been in fixing it, because I suspected that I would enjoy life a lot more if I had more say in how it went – in the kinds of people I allowed in my sphere.
It turns out that Mr. Galt is an asshole.
Mr. Galt can walk away from needy people. His author advocates protecting one’s labor and the fruits thereof, from anyone who would unjustly share in them, with a zealot’s enthusiasm.
And no, I’m not about to tromp around proclaiming my superiority to the heavens, and making everyone “earn” the right to partake of my company. Basically, this journey has been about learning that I can, that I HAVE, to CHOOSE who is worthy of my time and attention. That I need to take responsibility for those choices, instead of passively allowing others to direct my life by treating me well or ill for as long as THEY see fit. That I am the only person who can stand up for me and be vocal about what I do and don’t like. That it’s okay – necessary, even – to be an asshole sometimes.
Who knew?
And so, I leave you with this completely unrelated advice: Should you come across one of these, and be lured by its siren call into throwing yourself astride and signaling to the operator to turn it on…
Hang on with your legs – the strap is all but useless.
August 20, 2010
Facebook hazard #932
When someone you’ve been friends with for something close to a decade posts a status that reveals views repugnant to you.
Frankly, I’m kinda pissed. I’m not sure at whom, though. At this person, for pretending to tolerance all these years? Or at myself, for ignoring other personality characteristics that would, if acknowledged, allowed me to discern these views and fade the friendship appropriately.
Even worse, part of me suspects that I’m pissed because his views reflect poorly on me. Nobody likes to say, “Oh, yeah, he’s kind of a {misogynist, racist, homophobe, bigot, ignorant asshole who has apparently forgotten how to use the rational parts of our brains that make us human), but he’s otherwise an okay guy, so I’m totally friends with him. Well, maybe some people like to say that. I don’t.
And right now, as I’m thinking of him, I’m thinking of a whole list of things about him that annoy me and make me want to not be his friend anymore. And I wonder if this is the opening of my eyes to the way I’ve always thought about this person, and the whole friendship was a lie, or if it’s just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Either way, back broken. Now, to unfriend, block, or hide?
August 19, 2010
It’s a good thing I can’t find my lamp.
Because sometimes, for absolutely no reason at all, even after you’ve been complimented, and you’re still sore from killer workouts, and you ate a superhealthy dinner the night before…
Sometimes, you get on the scale, and you see what, to most people (including some part of yourself that you cling to like a life preserver), are perfectly reasonable and healthy numbers. You see those numbers, and you wish you could just figure out how to go back.
So it’s a good thing you can’t find your lamp, because wishes should sometimes really not be granted.
August 18, 2010
Also, thank heaven for Trainer
Ow. *whimper*.
On a 3½% tip, the stairmaster that looks like actual stairs is *much* more effective than the other kind. This kind? Is made entirely of pure evil and PAIN.
I’ll be doing it again tomorrow. *sigh*
Also, why do I find that Jimmy Dean planets commercial to be so cute?
In other random thoughts, did you know that iPhone’s autocorrect feature is adaptive? That is, over time, it will recognize things that you type regularly – onomatopoeias that you use regularly, or words that you intentionally misspell (I CAN haz cheezburger!), etc. A recent conversation made me think about how interesting it would be to gather a group of people and compare their personal lexicons for their iPhones. I suspect this would reveal some interesting qualities about the users and their relationships to the people they text and email the most.
August 17, 2010
Thank heaven for car inspections.
1) I’ve been having a bit of a block lately, in case you couldn’t tell from the absolute randomness, and lack of interesting material, in recent posts.
2) But, I’m leaving for Vegas, The Sequel in 4 days.
3) My car inspection expired at the end of July, and I hadn’t gotten it done yet.
4) So, I worked from home today, and went on my lunch hour.
5) When she fails inspection, my car is called Hester Prynne, because they give you a pink sticker where the yellow one normally goes.
6) She is currently called Madeleine, her name when she has not merited a rose-hued adhesion.
7) This is a good thing, because I didn’t feel like spending ridiculous sums on brake, oil gasket, or pressure hose repair.
8 ) Also, it means I shouldn’t get any tickets from the local parking enforcement officer while I’m gone.
9) Which means I won’t have to call Officer P and ask him to void the tickets once I’ve taken care of the inspection.
10) Because Officer P has a tendency to write multiple tickets over a very short period of time, which doesn’t give one time to actually GET the car inspected, and the local authorities agree that it’s somewhat unreasonable to not give someone time to correct the infraction.
11) And, Officer P sounds pretty much exactly like Elmer Fudd and Porky Pig combined, meaning that he is VERY hard to understand, and conversations take a VERY long time.
12) And really, it’s just kind of nice to feel like I’ve done some of the things.
August 13, 2010
634 blow jobs in 5 days… I’m really quite tired.
I just have to make it clear that I don’t want to hear about it anymore, I suppose.
Because the notion that I might actually care what thirtysomething versions of Regina George and Gretchen Weiners think of me is patently absurd.
But the notion that people are capable of developing an irrational hatred for you, specifically (not because you are a member of a class or group) is unsettling. And since I can’t do anything about it, I’d just as soon not know.
August 12, 2010
Great Aspirations
I’m working on something about child-free zones, etc. But I don’t have time for that now, because work wants me to work, condo wants to be cleaned, friends want to be visited, and pool wants to be played. And, also, dinner wants to be cooked.
So I’ve been having much success with Trainer, who finally got around to measuring my body fat %. According to my Evil Scale of Doom, I’d lost only 8 pounds, but about 4% body fat since I’d last measured. According to Trainer’s (theoretically) more accurate apparatus, it’s closer to 6% since I started working with him (I did not disclose my previous measurement). All of which makes me feel great.
Though, this percentage? Does not look like I thought it would. At least, it doesn’t to me. I can still see things I’d rather not, still don’t fit into things I could wear 6 years ago. But the facts are there. I am in the “athletic” range for my height and age, and this is what I look like now.
It’s not an easy thing for everyone, accepting what they look like even when they’ve done everything they’re supposed to, even when the numbers say they should be thrilled.
So, yeah. I’m not going to worry about it, and I’ve been enjoying making myself healthier, fresh-food dinners, and working out really hard, and pushing myself farther than I thought I could go. I’ve been enjoying letting go of my expectations, too. Aspirations will always be welcome here, but expectations are another animal altogether, I think.
August 11, 2010
Unacceptable
You must really think I’m stupid, WMATA.
You must also think that my dry cleaners could REALLY use some more business. I suspect they are most grateful.
Because here’s the thing. I walk to the Metro every day, and this summer, the parking lot has been taking a lot longer to get full. And while this might be the result of increased “green” commuting to the metro station, it’s probably also because there are slightly fewer people riding in the summer, especially on Mondays and Fridays. People take vacations in the summer, and it is the one thing that makes summertime commuting bearable, because it increases the personal space zone by roughly 1/2″ all the way around.
Or it used to, before you surreptitiously started running fewer trains.
Maybe you thought we wouldn’t notice, those of us living along the Orange Line. Maybe you thought we’d stand on the platform waiting 8 minutes for a train that we wouldn’t be able to fit on, and think that this was normal for a line that’s supposed to have trains every 3-4 minutes during rush hour – trains with 8 cars! And yes, I know there’s a budget shortfall, and I get that reducing service is one way to compensate for such things. But.
BUT, you didn’t decide to do that. NO. You raised fares, and raised them substantially. And you said you were doing this so that there would NOT be a reduction in service.
So how is it that I’m waiting 8 minutes just to get to the front of the line to board the train, then another 6 minutes for the next train, where the car I get on has minimal or no air conditioning (this, by the way, has already happened THREE times this week, and it’s only Wednesday morning). I get on just a few stops from the end, and the trains are very nearly full by the time they get to me.
This is ridiculous. At this point, I’m beginning to understand why a working-class individual would be swayed by the likes of Mussolini. What I don’t understand is how this level of mismanagement could exist in such a public organization for this length of time.
If Congress can investigate steroid use in baseball, they can certainly take the time to investigate the clusterf*ck that is WMATA management. I’m writing my representatives right now.
August 9, 2010
Nerditude
Yes, I am evil, and a total judgmental bitch.
But if you use the word “loose” where “lose” would be more appropriate, or if you claim to “pour” over a book, I will judge you and think less of you. Unless you’re actually causing liquid to leave a vessel at a greater elevation than the tome in question, in which case I apologize.
Also, my power came back on, Saturday morning. They *finally* disconnected the supermarket’s generator late last night, so I’ve gotten almost no sleep, and am therefore being even more harsh about this than I would normally.
But it’s kind of true.
August 6, 2010
Tuesday in disguise
“We also have this new face cream which neutralizes the free radicals that attack the skin. Let me ask you: what’s your skin regime?”
“My regime? The regime from which the radicals are trying to get free? Are we selling face cream or staging a coup?”
It must be Tuesday, because Fridays just DO NOT start out like this.
They don’t start out with your cell phone waking you up at 6:30 (after getting to bed at 1 am) just before the battery dies, because you still have no power. They definitely don’t start out with a 3.5-minute cold shower, AFTER which you realize that of course your hairdryer isn’t going to work you idiot, so you’ll have to air dry on your way to the metro, except that the air on the way to the metro is soggier than the towel you just used, so good luck with that.
While Fridays very occasionally start with the beeping of a delivery truck backup alarm around 7:30 or so, they haven’t yet followed a nearly sleepless night soundtracked by the supermarket whose proximity normally means MORE convenience, not a migraine doing katas all over your cerebrum to the beat of its backup generators.
In short, if my place still doesn’t have power tonight (according to a kindly neighbor who bought some shelf-stable milk at said supermarket, where the employees had called the power company, it’s “going to be a while”), can I come over and use yours? It won’t be for long – maybe for 10 minutes or so before I fall asleep again.
Seeking John Galt 