Catastrophe

It’s been  bumpy few weeks, folks.  Here are some highlights:

First up:  Boyfriend’s best friend is going through some marital strife.  Not like, “We’re going through a rough patch and we’re trying to work things out,” sort of strife, but more the “I need a place to stay because I can’t be in the same room with her after less than three years of marriage” sort.  Of course, boyfriend and I offered to put him up in our guest room while he got on his feet.  We even helped him get a job!  Such good friends, we are.  It’s been fun…  We’ve made it a priority around the apartment to be a calming, positive presence.  As you can imagine, this has been remarkably difficult for me as I am a constantly overstimulated alarmist.  Good times, though.  I’ve managed to introduce him to RuPaul’s Drag Race, which has resulted in innumerable evenings spent on the couch sharing very serious opinions about drag queens.

On a more difficult note, I have to wear pants all the time now.  Hence, this is not going to become a more permanent arrangement.

Next in line:  Simon’s sick again. Well, it’s been less sick and more…out of character.  After a few days of moping and a general refusal to participate in our normal constant cuddling, I demanded a vet visit.  $500 LATER, following blood work and an X-ray to view an OH MY GOSH MASS IN HIS ABDOMEN, we came to learn than Simon is constipated.  My cat is full of crap.  He now gets food warmed up in the microwave to make gourmet friggin’ cat gravy with an added dash of laxative.  He’s cleaning out well enough, but his personality is still wrong.

So my after-work cuddle buddy?  He’s under the table.  My playful, purring pal?  He jumps when I move to fast.  My warm, bedtime white noise?  He won’t even come into the bedroom at all.  My joyful 5:00 am wakeup call?  He’s nowhere to be found.

Not all is lost, however; he will still emerge for butt scratches.

Needless to say, I am completely beside myself and have been spending hours upon hours sitting on the floor, which is the only way he’ll sit with me now.  Is it all from the torso full of poops?  I don’t know, but I’m beginning to suspect that our unexpected houseguest has a great deal to do with Simon’s newfound apathy.  I absolutely adore boyfriend’s bestie, but listen:  first I have to wear pants, and NOW you are potentially upsetting my cat?  I think we need to talk…

More, you say?:  My sister is currently full of a mostly-baked kid, who is due to make her grand entrance into the world in two weeks.  TWO WEEKS!  It’s difficult to concentrate on things like work and basic life functions when something like that is hanging over your head.  I have a giant box of clothes and shoes and toys and books that I can’t wait to give to the soon-to-be mommy.  Unfortunately, my excitement is hampered by the 12-hour drive that sits squarely between us.  Boyfriend and I are making the trek in mid-August, but man, that seems far away.

What’s next?:  I’m gonna lay some knowledge on you right now.  Boyfriend and I have been together around 6 years.  Boyfriend and I have also NEVER gone away together for a romantical vacation.  In my opinion, that is incredibly stupid.  So after we got engaged last year, we decided that this summer would be the time for it.  July 11th through 14th!  Short, but sweet!  I even put in for the time as soon as I started my new job!

OH, OOPS, BUT I NEVER BOOKED HOTELS OR MADE DEFINITE PLANS OR ANYTHING AND IT’S IN TWO WEEKS.  I realized this after the following conversation happened between myself and my boss yesterday:

Boss:  “So, you getting excited for the vacation?”
Me:  “OH MY GOSH, SO EXCITED.”
Boss:  “Where are you staying?!”
Me:  “Ummm…”
Boss:  “What nights are you in the city and what nights are you at the beach?”
Me:  “Uhhh…”
Boss:  “When are you leaving?”
Me:  “Well…”
Boss:  “You know, you really suck at this.”

She’s right, I really do.  So I spent last night scouring the internet for hotels and ideas and backup plans to account for my procrastination.  I’m almost done!  Yay?

One more thing, you say?:  I’m retaking my driver’s test on July 20th.  SON OF A BITCH.

Overall, I like to believe that everything is a learning experience.  Here’s what the last two weeks have taught me about myself:

1. When a friend is in trouble, I have an immediate, not always rational, desire to do whatever I can to help.
2. When helping said friends-in-need, I am prepared to kick them to the curb just as quickly as I took them in when they interfere with my cat’s happiness or my ability to not wear pants in my own apartment.
3. When my cat is sick/upset/mildly inconvenienced in any way, it essentially derails my entire life.
4. They say that new parents spend a disturbing amount of time discussing the pooping habits of their children;  this phenomenon can apparently also apply to pet parents.
5. I am REALLY excited to be an auntie.
6. Even when I “plan” something such as a vacation, even nearly a year in advance, I can’t be bothered to actually plan by maybe booking hotels and stuff until the absolute last second.
7. DAMMIT, DRIVER’S TEST.
8. As a totally unrelated aside, if there is candy in my candy dish at work, I will eat all of it.  No, not “I will eat too much of it.”  I will straight up eat every last piece by the week’s end.
9. I need to calm down.  Not about any of these items in particular, just as a general rule.

Lastly, and unquestionably most importantly…

10.    I really, really need that vacation.

Can…can we bring the cat?!

Summer Rears its Ugly Head

Aaaaaand here we go again.  The sun’s out consistently, the temperature has been solidly into the 70s for at least two weeks now, and my skin is pink and uncomfortable.

Hello, summer, my old nemesis.

Wait…

Let’s hold right up here for a second.  Today’s, what, May 3rd?  It can’t POSSIBLY be this warm already.  I still have at least another month or two before we exit monsoon season and delve into the humid, sticky trenches that are the summer months.

OH RIGHT, I’M NOT IN PITTSBURGH ANYMORE.  I LIVE IN A STUPID NEW PLACE NOW AND IT’S INEXPLICABLY WAY, WAY HOTTER HERE ALL THE TIME EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE BASICALLY EQUIDISTANT TO THE EQUATOR .

So essentially, the move to Harrisburg has extended my summer in both directions: it’s going to start earlier, and it’s going to end later.  I am not please by this particular development.  It means some big changes for me.

Things I now have to look forward to for even LONGER THAN USUAL:

• Sunburns.  Vicious, vicious sunburns.
• A horrifically shiny face.
• A distinct lack of my beloved hoodies.
• Profuse sweating at the most seemingly insignificant of outdoor activities, such as walking to the car or standing.
• Those creepy heat lines that rise off the pavement and make it look like you’re hallucinating.
• Being subjected to the overly exposed bodies of the general public.
• Inability to sleep without the constant, soothing hum of an air conditioner.
• Inability to pay my electric bill due to said constant, soothing hum of an air conditioner.

Completely new and upsetting things I have never experienced, but must now endure for the extended summer months:

• Extended time in a vehicle.  Since we have to drive everywhere here, I have to be in the car or bus in the pounding sun.  I hate being in the car when it’s hot.  It makes me feel like a baked potato.
• Hersheypark.  I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that maybe 35% of visitors to Hershey are lovely human beings.  The rest are split into two groups.  The first is Asian tourists.  They’re not bad overall.  There are just a lot of them and they tend to congregate in compact groups that stop unpredictably in the most inconvenient of locations, such as in bathrooms and in front of doors.  The second group?  Oh, the second group we have are Stereotypical ‘Merican Tourists.  Yes, stereotypes are bad, but they come from somewhere, and it’s from this particular mob.  These are the type of people who come to Hershey to combine their love of unhealthy snacks with their love of being rude and disgusting in public.  The type of people whose parenting skills are demonstrated by their refusal to interact with their horrid children in any way but complete avoidance or screaming obscenities.  The type of people who treat retail employees and waiters as though they are the scourge of the planet (fun fact: Stereotypical ‘Merican Tourists are actually the scourge of the planet).  In conclusion, I just shuddered violently whilst thinking about them.

On the bright side, squirrels!

My Month of Homelessness, a.k.a. Feline Biological Warfare

Good friends are hard to come by.  I’m lucky enough to have a whole bunch of them.  I know that I always have someone I can count on in any situation, including my month of homelessness this past July.  One of my nearest and dearest and weirdest friends and her lovely boyfriend took me in and set me up on their amazing IKEA foldy storage couch.  I was posted up there from the time my lease ran up at the end of June until I finished up work in Pittsburgh in early August.  They kindly put up with my periods of crazed uncertainty about moving and my bouts of dramatic depression over leaving the only place that’s ever really felt like home.

During that month, I learned how lucky I am to have great people in my life, how much I hate commuting to work, what it feels like to require caffeine to function, and just how much I love animals.  Animals, you say?  Well, I think you can tell you love animals when one does something absolutely unspeakable and you still love it dearly.

Meet Bumblebee, more commonly known as Bumble.

“Hi, I’m here to test the limits of my cuteness.”

Bumble was one of my two feline roommates, the other being Luna, who OH MY GOSH I’M TOTALLY OBSESSED WITH.  She is light grey, she looks sort of like a bat, and she’s super spastic.  At first, she will hide unremittingly from you.  Once she gets used to you (or once you feed her), she becomes relentlessly clingy.

But Bumble.  Oh, sweet, strange Bumble.  I have never seen a cat so laid back, or one so fond of being held like a baby.  She is a chocolate brown Manx.  For those of you unfamiliar with the breed, they have no tails, or sometimes only a small nub of one.  This causes some nerve weirdness around the back ends of these little fuzzballs, which can result in issues with gas and other related natural processes.  Poo problems, to be blunt.  Bumble can be a notorious little gas bomb, and, as my friends and I learned one fateful night, can suddenly wake you from slumber in one of the most horrific ways imaginable.

Things started harmlessly enough, really.  Before I moved in, friend and boyfriend of friend warned me that one of their cats liked to spite them by pooping on the carpet when they weren’t home.  The question of who was a mystery.  Okay, I guess that’s not really that harmless.  For my part, the cats stared at me strangely for about 24 hours after I moved my things in, then adopted me into their household.  I fed them in the morning, mainly because I was the first out of bed (sometimes because they jumped on me) and they were persistent.  Feeding cats gives you automatic street cred in their eyes.

Then, one night, it happened.

Have you ever been woken up from a deep sleep by a smell?  Just a smell?  It was about 2:00 am, and I snapped awake violently.  As I shook myself and let my eyes adjust to the dark, I heard a frantic clambering of cat claws across tile.  I looked up to see Bumble running full tilt around in a circle: through the living room, past the dining room, into the hall, and back to me again.  Then I became aware of the putrid smell hanging in the air.  I heard Bumble’s parents stirring in the bedroom and, as they flicked the light on, I saw it.  There was…material streaming out of the cat.  I gasped, my friends cursed, and Bumble took off again.  Then she jumped.

Onto the couch.

Where I was sitting.

Cat poop.  All over the couch, the walls, the blanket, pillows, even the curtains.  Friend grabbed Bumble, her eyes wild, and took her to the bathroom to clean her off.  Boyfriend of friend and I began the task of locating all the points in the house that had been assaulted.  They didn’t allow me to do much cleaning, but I did go sit in the bathroom, where they had locked the cat to contain any subsequent events.  It was heartbreaking; she was so horrified to be away from everyone that she would curl up on my lap or stand on her back paws on the sink and hug around my neck, purring and wiggling with joy to have some company.  It almost made me want to let her out until I considered the high potential for cat poop in my hair.

It happened once more during my stay, though never to that upsetting of an extent.  My poor sweet friends, so understanding to love a creature unconditionally even after such an outburst.  Or buttsplosion, as boyfriend of friend likes to call it.

I am now safely and comfortably settled into my new home (a story for a different post), a home free of gastrointestinally-challenged cats.   There are no early morning wake-up pounces, no post-shower food demands, no distressing surprises in the middle of the night.  To be honest, though, I miss the unique brand of excitement nestled within that household.

Not enough to get a cat, though.

A Perfect Storm of Stress: A (Somewhat) Brief Study of My Blogging Hiatus

Stress is a natural part of everyday life.  We have all experienced periods of elevated stress levels at one time or another, sometimes due to our own choices and sometimes due to circumstances entirely outside of our control.

Unfortunately, sometimes these normal little stressors team up to ruin your life by distracting you from enjoyable things, such as socializing, exercise, smiling, laughing, eating, sleeping, and blogging.  Over the past three months, I have been experiencing one of these perfect storms of stress and have subsequently begun to lose my mind.  Come with me on my journey and enjoy the ride of from productive member of society to unhinged ball of crazy.

1. The End of Graduate School

STRESS LEVEL: Above Normal, Chiefly Offset by Excitement

SYMPTOMS: Nervous Energy, Celebratory Ingestion of Alcoholic Beverages

Obviously, finishing my Master’s degree at the end of December was a thrilling experience  I managed to get through an entire year of full-time studies, full-time employment, and part-time teaching.  And I hadn’t snapped and punched anyone in the head!  Not even once!  What an accomplishment!

To say that such a huge life change isn’t stressful, however, would be silly.  Completing a degree brings with it the unnerving realization that real life is creeping up on you once again.

2.  Quitting My Job

STRESS LEVEL:  Rising, but Manageable

SYMPTOMS:  Obsessive Usage of Employment Websites, Increased Intolerance of Awful Coworkers

As I’ve said many times, my job has good parts and bad parts.  For instance, the good parts are my work BFF, awesome benefits, my super supportive and understanding boss, my two delightfully surly assistants, and a sprinkling of entertaining coworkers.  The bad parts are all the other parts.

Putting in my notice was a hugely emotional experience.  I am so excited to finally be moving on after almost 10 years.  I’m unequivocally ready to leave this place, but telling my sweet, wide-eyed, second mother of a boss was pretty gut-wrenching.  A few days before I sat down with her to discuss my departure, though, I was forced to listen to one of the cartoon villain-esque mouth-breathers that stalk these halls deliver a horrifically racist, culturally-insensitive rant that immediately steeled my resolve.  After standing up to her idiocy, I picked a reasonable date, wrote my resignation letter, and bit the bullet.

Then I scampered home and wept in a corner.

3.  The Departure of Roommate

STRESS LEVEL:  Unusually Unpleasant

SYMPTOMS:  Increased Skype Usage, Weight Gain Stemming From Comfort Eating, BUGS

Well, it happened.  My boyfriend scored his dream job.  On January 1st, he moved his essentials out to Central PA and started working full-time as a kung fu teacher.  Confusing, conflicting emotions flooded me when this situation materialized.  He asked me how I would feel if he pursued the opportunity to begin on the path to his lifelong dream if it meant being apart for a while.

Of course, I insisted that he do it.  What was I going to say?  “No, dear, I need you to pass up that dream of yours to stay here with me and work at Starbucks while I languish in my dead-end office job.  Love you!”

There were complications, however, that we discussed at length.  How will we make time to talk?  Make time before bed.  How often will we visit one another?  At least once a month.  Would he still cover half of the expenses at our current apartment?  Hells yes, he will.  All of those things paled in comparison to his happiness and success.  Except, of course, for one issue:  WHO WILL KILL THE BUGS, ROOMMATE?!

So now, I go home to my big, beautiful, empty apartment, make my own dinner, sleep all on my lonesome, and kill my own bugs.  We’ve done it before, though.  On four separate occasions.  Prolonged separation always shows you just how important a person is in your world, and we’ve really gotten it down to a science.

That being said, I am totally over this long distance garbage.

4.  Unnecessary, Wholly Unwelcome Drama

STRESS LEVEL:  Dangerous

SYMPTOMS:  Stress-Weakened Immune System, Uncharacteristic Yelling, Elaborately Planned Imaginary Revenge Plots

Sometimes, you meet a person who, despite your best efforts to coexist peacefully, manages to track down your last nerve and drive it into the ground with their horrifically grating personality.  I am fortunate enough to have two such people in my life: one at work, and one in my personal life.  Both have been on top of their game in recent weeks, managing to somehow make me dread both being at work and leaving work.  This is problematic, as I am forced to exist in one of those realities at any given moment.

Many people will tell you, “Oh, just cut negative people out of your life!  It’s as simple as that!”  Said people have clearly never encountered a real situation with one of those awful people.  It is very likely because they happen to be one of those awful people.

5.  The Continuing Job Search and Interview Process

STRESS LEVEL:  Highly Volatile

SYMPTOMS:  Vulture-Like Monitoring of Email Inbox and Cell Phone, Hysterical Crying Outbursts

Applying for jobs is essentially a nightmare.  You pluck up your courage and tell someone what makes you special.  You write letters, organize resumes, and buy yourself some shiny new clothes just to impress potential new employers.  Nine times out out ten, though, they can’t even be bothered to send you an email telling you that they’re not interested.  Of over 40 applications, I have gotten less than 10 responses.  From those responses, four interviews.  Of those interviews, two of them were cancelled the night before by the companies due to some manner of irritating circumstances.  Traveling back and forth between Central PA and Pittsburgh for interviews has been quite a production as well.  Have you ever, stripped of any other options, been forced to take Greyhound?  If not, consider yourself fortunate and never, ever do it.

All I want to do is find a job and start this new chapter of my life, but while I wasn’t paying attention, I somehow morphed into Philip J. Fry in the pilot episode of Futurama, desperately fleeing the employment fate thrust upon me by a cold and uncaring society.

“I am going to be a writer or an editor!” I said, brimming with optimism and genuine hope for the future.  “It’s going to be awesome!”

“NO,” said the current job market, “YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!”

“But I have nearly 10 years of work experience and a Master’s degree!” I whimpered.

“I DON’T CARE!  YOU CAN BE AN OFFICE ASSISTANT.  THAT IS ALL.”

“But I am that!  I don’t want to be that anymore!”

“SILENCE.  I HAVE SPOKEN.”

6.  The Realization That, In Less Than Two Months, I Will Be (Potentially) Unemployed and Living in a Strange New Town

STRESS LEVEL:  Catastrophic

SYMPTOMS:  (see image)

Cannot…what if…how do I…I DON’T KNOW HOW TO…AUGH!!

So there you have it.  A vent, of sorts, to partially explain my long absence.  Weekly posts will be part of my new normal, once I finally get started on that.  By the end of April, I will have picked up the scattered, broken pieces of my brain and taken advantage of a golden opportunity to start fresh.

Otherwise, you will be able to find me lurking in the gutters of Pittsburgh like some sort of urban Gollum.  Either way, it should be fun to watch!  Stay tuned!

The Ebb and Flow of Confidence

Yesterday, I felt great.

I was at the gym stretching before my students arrived for class when the big boss man asked me to help him demonstrate some boxing drills for his martial arts and police academy students.  I will admit, sometimes I hate doing this; gigantic tough guys who are in the process of working toward a career in which bashing skulls is not entirely frowned upon typically don’t want to be given instruction from a short girl with an attitude problem.  I shrugged and figured that it could be a good pre-class warmup.  Why not?

I showed them what to do, then boss paired me up with the lone female of the group:  she was significantly shorter than me, quite a bit older, and admittedly out of shape and uncoordinated.  It made me happy, though, because despite all of those things, she dived right into the drills.  It’s not easy to be the only girl in what amounts to a boys’ club.  You have to work twice as hard for half the respect, and you have to live with the fact that some men will never give you the recognition you deserve.  After I modified the drills to give her a chance to catch on, it seemed to click for her.  “I’ve never been able to do this!” she said excitedly.  “No one ever works with me because I’m the only girl, and I thought I just couldn’t do it!”

It warmed my heart, because I’ve been there before.  The first martial arts club I joined was composed of myself, one of my girl friends, and about 25 guys.  If my friend didn’t show up, I was hard pressed to find someone willing to work with me without condescension.  I’m fortunate now to be in a group with young men that have respect (and, sometimes, a healthy fear) for me and my abilities.

So I felt for her.  I took things slow, but made sure to give her constructive criticism where she needed it.  And she made progress in the short time we worked together!  Then she said, “You’re amazing.  You really are…  I’ve seen you in here with your class and your martial arts club, and I’m so impressed.  How long have you been doing this?”

I told her that I’d only been doing martial arts for about 4 or 5 years, and she said, “Wait, how old are you?”

“27!”  I told her.  It’s one of the first times I’ve said it since my birthday, so I had to think about it.  I hate when someone asks me a simple question, like my name or age or birthday, and I can’t answer it without critical thought.  It makes me look mentally deficient.  But I digress.

“Really?!  I thought you were like 18.”

And there was much rejoicing.

Later that evening, one of my fitness students asked me if I could put together a stretching routine for her to do outside of class.  I cheerfully agreed, as I am thrilled when anyone recognizes the importance of flexibility in a workout regimen.  I gave her my email address and, as she left, she said, “Thanks so much!  You’re really a great teacher!”

Well, all of these wonderful comments got me thinking.  I’ve been offered many lovely compliments in my day but I typically disregard them, as I am insane and have aggressively low self-esteem.  I think I should try to be a little more accepting.  So to start, here is a short list of things that I’ve been called that I hope to someday live up to in my own mind:

• Unapologetically sassy
• A stone cold badass
• A beast (to be honest, I have been called this with both good and bad intentions)
• A good worker (HA!)
• A good friend
• A good girlfriend
• A good Nancy (I love this one;  it’s a weird thing to be called, but after some thought, it’s absolutely perfect)

Fresh off my grateful student-related high, I came to work this morning with a smile on my face.  Then, around 11:45, I came to the realization that I had been wearing my underwear inside out all day.  Thanks, universe!  I didn’t want to get a big head or anything.