Pants...Optional

take control of the stick

2012-02-01T09:52:00.002-07:00

So, I drove to work today and talked to my sister and allwas well. I walked up the stairs to the fourth floor and was all responsibleand healthy like. I have my Wednesday morning meetup with the boss and then Igo to my desk. I log in. I get all of my tabs open on the Chrome.

I immediately see someone posting Soul Train video onFacebook.

That says “Don Cornelius” is dead in my brain.

I go to CNN.com. Yep. He died.

I don’t usually comment on celebrity deaths. Some of themmake me go “Oh, I liked *insert project they were part of here*” and then I goabout the rest of my life. Because at the end of the day, I didn’t know thatperson. It seems kinda weird to me that people can lose their shit over someonedying that they never ever met. But that’s just me.

Remind me of that when I lose my shit when Prince dies, OK?Feel free to point and laugh.

Anyway…something about Don Cornelius being dead has made mefeel a bit bummed out. Maybe it’s because now people from my growing up yearsare the ones that are biting it. Maybe? I don’t understand how the human mindworks.

I loved Soul Train. I remember that and American Bandstandin regards to the Saturday mornings of my youth far more than I do thecartoons. Honestly. The Smurfs were just in the way of my dance.

My sister and I would watch and we’d dance and we’d havefun.

The good thing about Soul Train, for me, was that itintroduced me to music that I’d likely not have any exposure to otherwise. Iwas a white kid from a small town in West Virginia where all of the residentsall fell down on their collective fainting couches when the local cable companydecided to add MTV to the lineup. OK? I’m actually, looking back, surprised wewere allowed access to Soul Train!

But there it was. On my TV on Saturday mornings. And it helpedme expand my music knowledge past the Rick Dees weekly top 40 lineup and it fedmy love of dancing and funky bass lines.

Soul Train was awesome. It just was. I’m not going tocomment on race and tv and crap like that. I’m a white kid from West Virginia.I likely don’t have any business doing such things.

But, I’ll be dancing the rest of the day as much as Ipossibly can while also being a productive member of society. Which is quite abit, really. I may even dance my evening away.

can never get enough

2012-01-25T05:59:00.002-07:00

So in my last post when I said I was no longer angry. About anything. Yeah. That was a lie.

I spent the majority of my day Sunday being angry and crying and then shaking it off and thinking I was fine and then I'd get angry again and rinse and repeat.

My sister called me after the five minute service they had for my Granny. Once she told me that two of my Dad's friends was there I started the most ridiculous temper tantrum about what is fair and what is not that I've unleashed in some time. And when I was done I even said "And yes, I know I'm yelling and crying about fair like a five year old."

She told the family I was mad as hell. Because I was.

Monday I went to work. Seemed the thing to do. Work.

Except I was angry and surly and teary eyed still. They told me I could use bereavement leave if I needed to. I took them up on that.

I called my parents on my way home and told them that I was still really angry that I had to stay here. That I couldn't be there. They both, in all of their infinite parental wisdom, gave me this superb advice:

Get over it.

Yep. Get over it.

So, I did what seemed to be the thing to do. I drank rum and Coke for seven hours straight and had a YouTube dance party. A friend even stopped by and danced with me a bit.

I didn't think about shit. I was completely outside of my brain. All I cared about was having rum and having good jams to dance to.

People are all "Well, that's good. You needed to get that out of your system."

I'm confused. I have no idea what drinking and dancing did to get my angry out of my system, but it did. I have gotten over it. I am no longer angry or sad or anything. Via the power of Full Force and rum.

But here I am on morning number two and I still feel like shit. Hangovers are not my thing, obviously.

But that's still better than all of that anger. Anger is silly. Especially anger over things that cannot be changed.

I'm going to, instead, remember that I did what Granny wanted me to do. I did what my sister has deemed the strong thing. I stayed here. I didn't jump on a plane in a fit of emotion and selfishness. And I had one super fun evening of dance and freeness.

I got over it.

the beat of my heart

2012-01-22T08:08:00.000-07:00

Friday afternoon, I ate lunch at the office. I talked to my co-workers that have weddings coming up. Those of us at the table that have been married told our tales of weddings and fun and things of that sort and it was good.

I made my way back to my desk and was there for a few minutes when I hear an IM ding in. "How cute?" I'm being asked in response to my GTalk status. "Yay!" I think. A fun conversation with a fun person. Nice. A good day having more good added to it.

My phone starts to ring as I'm typing. It's my Mom. That's odd. She rarely calls in the middle of the day. So, I answered it.

She told me my Granny had died earlier that day. I said it out loud. It didn't sound right. She said it again. I said "NO SHE ISN'T!!!" and she said "Yes, Andrea, she is."

So. There it is. I no longer have my Granny there at home waiting to see me the next time I go there. She's gone. I'll never see her again and I, honestly, never allowed myself to truly think about this. To think about it or accept it. Even last year when her illness began and it sounded like we may lose her then, I went right to Denial and stayed right there in regards to my Granny and the status of her life. She'd just always be there. She would.

Except she's not.

I spent a good deal of the remainder of Friday crying and talking to various members of my family. Granny was adamant for many, many years that when she died, people were NOT to make a big deal out of it. They were NOT to travel, spend money, change their daily routine in any way. Her kids, my Dad, Aunt, and Uncle, are making sure those of us that live away from home respect her and stay where we are. That we respect them.

So, we are. And it sucks. We all want to be there for one another and talk about Granny together and give hugs and sit in her house and things of that sort. The majority of the family gets to do that.

I don't.

I get to sit here alone.

That lead to a lot of misplaced anger yesterday. Luckily, I held my crazy in and I didn't do crazy things in my grief and anger over having to be respectful of a stubborn woman's wishes. But I was one big ball of angry grief crazy.

One of my friends contacted me in the early afternoon. Asked if I'd like company. I would never in a million years ask for it, but that's is exactly what I wanted. I wanted distractions and to just not be alone.

I accepted her offer and she came over and we went out to eat and then we got last minute pedicures and then hung out for a bit at my house. And it was lovely and perfect.

I'm not angry anymore. About anything.

I've talked to my Dad who found her and I've talked to my Aunt the nurse and I feel much better. She wasn't in pain when it happened. She wasn't in an uncomfortable position with a look of fear or agony on her face. She was simply sitting peacefully at her dining room table.

There is a private ceremony at the grave site today for family only. I'll be there in spirit. But the rest of me will be here in Arizona. Being the mature, strong, respectful adult that I am.

The next time I go home will be very different for me. And I'll have to catch up to everyone else. They'll already be used to her house not having her in it. They'll already be used to her not making sweet tea anymore. They'll already be used to not hearing her voice. But I'll have to catch up.

I need to save money and I need to not take a lot of trips this year, but I don't want to have to catch up at Thanksgiving. So, I'll likely be making two trips home this year. To catch up.

My Granny was a huge part of my life. Huge. And I will miss her always.

panic, the vomit

2012-01-20T11:29:00.001-07:00

I had to kill a scorpion last night. It was in my bedroomand that freaked me out extra and so I slept with a light on which means that Ididn’t really sleep much at all.

So, I’m tired and ugh today.

Which means I dressed extra cute. It’s something I do when Ifeel a bit off. I’ll make myself extra cute. I think, mentally, I think thiswill help in some way. So far, I’m still tired. But happy over how cute I look!

Anyway.

I was wondering this morning while I was in the shower if itwould be wrong to join or rejoin a dating site just so I’d have someone to callwhen I need a scary critter killed or yard work done.

It’s not that out of the norm for me, I don’t guess. I didcontact one dude simply because he had beagles. I was thinking I’d be able topet them and be happy.

Then there was the dude who had no spelling, grammar, orsocial skills whatsoever that would email me things like “I AM BCK N TOWN? I THINKOF U LOTS?” and I’d respond. Why? Because in his profile he said that he likesto cook, his specialty is jerk chicken, and he has “a chicken and a roaster.”Now, I didn’t know if he misspelled rooster or if this was an offer toslaughter his chicken and roast it for my dining pleasure. So, I continued toemail him while also mocking him with my friends. The mystery was too hard to resist!

I never met him or the beagle dude. But, it did firmlyreaffirm to me that I was behaving like a loon during that time.

So, while I think back on my short time of being a loon, Ihave to also stop and reflect on what happened last night.

Last night, I encountered a scorpion in my bedroom. Andwhile it was scary and it scared me and freaked me out, I handled thesituation. I killed it and found solutions to how to dispose of it and then Iwent about the rest of the night. And I did this alone. Or, more importantlyand more positively, I did this on my own.

I don’t need to pretend to be a loon again or have someknight around to save me from things that are less than fun. I can, do, andwill continue to take care of myself and my business as I have been and I willcontinue to do it awesomely.

I’m not a loon. I’m not a needy damsel. I’m just anarachnophobe that steps up and takes care of business and then sleeps with thelight on.

Sounds pretty put together to me.

just don't let me disappear

2012-01-18T06:04:00.002-07:00

While I was in NYC, I posted quite a few photos of our walking around fun to Facebook on the fly. It's what we do now. It's silly, we all know it, but we do it.

One of these photos was of me sitting in the floor waiting for the SNL tickets to be distributed. My friend took it from above. So, it's a down angle shot. I liked it, I posted it. I thought I looked really nice.

Upon further inspection, I noticed that my cleavage looked really nice. I'm still at that stage where I'm amazed and impressed by my own cleavage. My boobs were flat and uncleavy until my mid-20s. My bras never really gave me good cleave until sometime in the past few years. For someone that went through their impressionable teens as a super skinny, flat chested shy gal...cleave is magical.

So, I sent this photo to someone via text in a flirty type fashion and was all "Hey, look how cute and cleavy I am" and they agreed and it was good and fun. Because I asked for and welcomed the conversation about my cleavage and boobs.

Now. Since there is cleavage, I am aware that dudes will look at it. That's cool. I posted it. Look at the cleave.

But I did not welcome the type of comment that basically indicates that "Hey, nice rack. Don't be upset by this because you asked for it by posting a photo like this."

Erm...No, I didn't ask for it. I didn't post it to Facebook and say "Hey! Comment on my rack!"

If they'd simply said "Nice rack!" I may not have batted an eye. With the context and the level of familiarity I have with some people and the fact that I met a lot of my friends via Flickr, that type of stuff is all in good fun.

I also know that this person didn't really have evil intent by saying this. But, just the fact that it was said at all just hit a nerve.

I'd recently seen this poster and the controversy surrounding it. Paired with that "you asked for it!" type comment, I've been mulling this over.

See, I was a teenaged drunk. This carried over to my early twenties. I woke up after having consensual sex with a dude in a dorm just to find that his roommate was then fucking me. I didn't consent to that. And he said "Oh, hush. You know you want this."

No, I didn't.

Then I was at another party and I got drunk and decided that the party was over and I needed to go lay down. A dude wandered into the room and tried to feel me up. I made noise, my friends came in and grabbed him and kicked his ass and kicked him out. I didn't ask for him to feel me up. I just wanted to lay down and not be drinking any longer.

Then I was at another party with friends. I knew everyone there. I was very drunk. One of my friends needed to ride into town and he asked if I'd go with. Next thing I know and can remember, he's got me naked in some trailer, he's naked and I'm fighting, hitting, screaming, crying, begging, clawing at his penis, and basically just scared shitless and fighting harder than I've ever had to fight before. He finally gave up, realized his damage, and left. But, he left me in some trailer naked and passed out. My friends had to find me! I didn't ask for any of that either.

Now, should I have not been a teenaged drunk. Of course. But none of that means that I asked for any of this to happen.

And when I post a photo of myself online that I think is cute, I don't need to be told "Nice rack! Hey, don't complain, you asked for this by posting a cleavage shot!" Even when my rational brain knows that they meant to real harm.

I guess I'm just tired of feeling like everything is up to the woman. I can't dress cute or post a nice photo of myself without being "punished?" I can't go out and get drunk and not expect to be raped?

I dunno. I guess I'm just still angry for my younger me. Today me would never put herself in those situations. But the me from in-between has been holding on to this and feeling like it was all her fault. And certain things wake that thought up.

I never reported any of this. And part of my brain sometimes even worries that I made some of it up in my former drunken hazy mind.

I dunno.

I'm not sure of the point of this post.

you won't admit to it

2012-01-15T11:20:00.001-07:00

A few months ago a friend of mine told me that she found it amusing that I have my relationship status on Facebook listed as divorced instead of simply single. My response at that time was something to the effect of "But..I am divorced. It's an honest statement."

I'm a fan on honesty. I'm a fan of being upfront and all of that.

I'm divorced.

There are deeper reasons than honesty that I couldn't articulate at that time because I couldn't get in touch with all of it on my own.

I was contacted and given some information early this past week that sorta just threw me for a loop. Not for any surface level reason. But for all of the deeper reasons that I present myself as divorced and not simply single.

Being divorced doesn't make me damaged and I don't want anyone to think that I use it as a warning or whatever. But, I am in a different mind space and life space than if I was just, simply, single.

I've spent the better part of this week going over the status of my life. My stats. My thoughts on myself, my place in the world, my wants and my needs, my appearance, my goals, and just all of me. I allowed some silly thoughts to come into my brain and I kinda sat around and cried and drank for two evenings. Not a good thing, no, but it was ok.

Lucky for me, I have amazing friends. One of which called me on the phone and perfectly articulated every single thing that I was feeling and thinking. Perfectly and exactly and it helped me tremendously.

Things are fine. I'm fine. Of course I am.

People will contact me and tell me things in a less than mature fashion. I will see things online that I wish I could unsee. People will come and go and come again. People will do things that are less than kind.

None of that changes who *I* am. Even after a week of misguided reflection.

now and then I think about when

2012-01-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

This just may be my favorite photo from my trip to the big city. I have a lot, surprisingly, that I'm really liking a lot but this one, as of this moment, is my favorite. I dig it. It's got me thinking that I may do a wall of photos in my house of all the cool places I've been and my favorite shot(s) of each place. Or something. I don't know. I have ideas and thoughts that never go anywhere.

Anyway. I'm back and I've been working all day and then editing all evening and sleeping inbetween and I'm tired. Tonight I'm not editing. I'm writing. Right here, on my blog! Look at that.

So...let's talk about my trip. Why? Well, mostly so I'll have something to look back on to jolt my memory when I sit down to do my photo book. Yeah. I do that. I use this space and my Flickr in that way. It's neat. Or not. Whatevs.

Friday we flew to JFK. We took a cab to NYC. When I realized we were on the Van Wyck I was all, "Ooooh! The Van Wyck!" and then it occurred to me...most of my knowledge of NYC originates from "Seinfeld." I don't know how I should feel about that but there it is. I was on the Van Wyck and I was all "ooooh!" about it. So, there.

Then I noticed all of the trash on the side of the road. And then I realized what a clean and shiny and pleasant living experience Arizona is. I don't know if the locals really understand what they have here. I mean, I take it for granted and I've only been here for two years. But I grew up in WV, which isn't the cleanest. Most of the East Coast has trash here and there. Not Arizona. All shiny and new. There you have it.

So, we're in a cab and he's zooming in and out and going around people that he should have simply stayed right behind because that's how traffic works! Horns honked and it was all very much an experience. But he got us to our hotel and life was good.

Our hotel was in an excellent spot. The hotel was older, but not gross. It had regular sized rooms, which was unexpected. I really expected to be in a closet. Not the case!

We walked. We walked into the Waldorf Astoria because that was one of those places that are planted in my head as the epitome of fanciness. I don't know why I have that thought, but I do. Then we encountered the NYC Public Library and I totally geeked out and took a bunch of photos and wanted to go in to see all of the stacks and smell all of the books and then I turned into Marshall and asked people who were alone and trying to take their own photo in front of the library if I could do it for them. Then I was reminded that we were on our way to the Empire State Building and wanted to get there for sunset. So, off we went!

We made it! Sunset at the top of the Empire State Building was gorgeous. So nice. And the city lights stretched out in all directions. It was just really super.

Then we went and had a drink. Then we had a really mediocre dinner on restaurant row and then we walked somewhere. Hmmm. I dunno. We saw Times Square. A dude called me a tourist.

Here's the thing...yes, I'm a tourist. So fucking what? You just called me a person that likes to travel and take photos as an insult. You gotta do better than that, dude. Shit.

We slept.

We woke up.

We took a taxi to Ground Zero. This was sad. I thought it would be kinda like the Vietnam Memorial for me, where I understand the gravity and it's somber and quiet and you have respect for all of those names on that wall and all of that. But...it was much more than that. Like, it all hit me again. We all watched it on TV, all of that day. And it all just gets to me. It's too much. Too much sad and scary and people died and it's all just so horrible. But...it's the memory of watching people either fall or jump from the windows of those buildings that hits me the hardest, or second hardest. Because when I turned the corner and saw the memorial on the Fire Department...I couldn't stop it. The tears. Those people jumped up and did the job they volunteered to do. Which is to enter buildings that other people are frantically fleeing from. And all of those names! People died right there. People who woke up that morning and just thought they were going to work and maybe had lunch plans or other mundane things. And then all of that happened. And we all watched it on TV. And now we all go there and cry and look and talk about where we were and how we felt. It just seems wrong somehow. I dunno. I just know that this part of the trip...I wasn't prepared for it.

Then we left there and went to Wall Street. Where all of my money is being lost. And I gave the five occupiers that are left the thumbs up. And I took photos and we saw the bull and then before we knew it we were at Battery Park looking at the Statue of Liberty off in the distance. Then we circled back to Ground Zero, did one last quiet look at it all and then got us a cab to go somewhere else. But we wound up in SoHo.

SoHo was grand! I bought a ring. I saw red velvet Mary Janes and wanted to put them on my feet real bad. My friend was very responsible and wouldn't let me go into the store. She was wise. I don't go crazy for shoes, really. But something about Mary Jane style shoes makes me all girly and shoe lovery. There you have it.

Then we walked over to Little Italy and had lunch there that was tasty good. Then we walked in Chinatown.

Then we grabbed a taxi and went to 30 Rockefeller Plaza. We got to see the tree! That was nice. Then we went to the Top of the Rock and took a bunch of photos up there. Then we got in line for SNL. We talked to a man who's allegedly been to every single show. We talked to a very enthusiastic mother and daughter team from Florida. So, it was extra funny during Weekend Update when they did the pregnant mother/daughter show bit.

Getting to see SNL was really pretty damned cool. Seeing how they pack so much into a small space and move it around for different sketches and the cameras and all of it. I liked that. The behind the scenes stuff. And the SNL Band is really very good. They should get more air time. And Charles Barkley was way nervous. At one point he turned around and closed his eyes and did that breathing thing we all do when we need to settle down. That was right before White People Problems. Which is likely something the decided to do based on Armisen's "Portlandia" show. Yeah. Anyway, Barkley was better during rehearsal than during the actual show. That I noticed. Then I went to sleep.

On Sunday we casually walked around Central Park a bit and other streets and bought scarves from a vendor that smelled like he'd been dipped in piss and then I complained about that for about five minutes before it hit me that I can be so fucking white sometimes. Good lord.

Off we go to the airport. We bought snacks. We ate some lunch. We go to our gate.

There I notice a very tall man standing beside me. In my head I'm all "Woah, this dude is some kind of tall!" and I look up at all the tall then I look down at all of the nice ass and then he kinda turns around and I'm then thinking that he looks familiar. Then it hit me that he could very well be Larry Fitzgerald. Why I'm able to recognize Larry Fitzgerald is a mystery even to myself as I do not follow football at all. But, I am. And he carries a Louis Vuitton bag. (Sidenote: I just spelled that correctly. How do I know how to spell that?!!? Who am I?!)

So. Yeah. It was all very fab. So fab I'm using the word fab.

That's my NYC trip tale in a nutshell. Viola!

if you asked me to

2012-01-05T10:04:00.001-07:00

So, here’s the thing. I’m from West Virginia, yes? Yes. AndI know that what I’m about to say is likely going to cause someone to burna couch, but that’s OK.

Here I go…

I am not a fan of WVU. I don’t follow them, I don’t keep upwith them, I don’t care.

Apparently they were in a bowl game last night because myentire News Feed on Facebook this morning was just post after post about howawesome the game was, the score, the excitement, and the winning. Which isfantastic, for WVU does have a lame history at bowl games.

Now, this is not to say that I’ve not enjoyed a WVU game inmy time. I have. The games are great fun, their marching band is fan-fucking-tastic,and it’s all good and swell. When I’m atthe games, I love it. The crowd is fun and lively, I really do enjoy a marchingband, and I get wrapped up in the excitement of the game.

However, unlike most people that were born and raised in thestate, I don’t feel any great loyalty to this school. I didn’t go there. So,why should I give a shit about a football team of a University in which I didnot attend simply because it is in the state in which I was born and raised?

*flamesbegin on a couch*

In my defense, to any WVians that may be reading, I willadmit to getting a bit teary when I read a recap of the game and the reporterdiscussed how this is just the beginning and that our football team could justget better and better and show everyone! Like Rudy or whatever. So, thisculture is inside of my heart. It’s just very, very deep in there.

Besides? I don’t really follow sports.

I enjoy watching them, but I don’t usually do that onpurpose. And since I’m not a sports fan, I enjoy sports for different reasonsand in different ways than most people. Since I don’t have a team picked out, Ilike to see people do well, and I get wrapped up in excitement I cheer for bothsides. I really do. “Yay, you scored and that was great!!” “OH!! The other teamjust scored! Way to go!! WooHoo!!” I do a lot of clapping and yay. I also dothis in a mostly low key manner. I don’t yell and stuff. I just sit and watch.The people I’m with likely feel that I’m not having a good time, which is nottrue at all. I just enjoy it in a much different manner than other folks.

So, no, I didn’t know that WVU was in a bowl game lastnight. So, I hadn’t heard that WVUis actually in Virginia.

How can you be that silly? Seriously? Or just flat out dumb?How is this possible?!?!? WEST VIRGINIA IS A FRICKIN’ STATE!! How can you be onTV and not know this? Fucking hell, people.

Now…topic change without any neato segue…

Tuesday night I watched an episode of “Portlandia” with afriend of mine and then we discussed people who we know that behave like thatand others we’ve observed and things of that sort. So, it was extra funny to mewhen I went to lunch yesterday and was surrounded by nothing but that. And thatI turned into that myself. It was just a weird, funky lunch.

I tried to order pasta, I failed. They only serve pastaafter 3. Which is totally their right as a restaurant. However, I decided thatI’m super entitled and I was all “Who only serves pasta after 3? What is this? Thisis absurd!! Gawd!” and then proceeded to order a sandwich off of their menu butchanged the entire structure of said sandwich.

Then, I looked around and I realized how white everyone was.And I’m not talking “Hi, I’m Andrea. I’m white and I sometimes like to dancewith my thumbs up and out and proud!” white. I’m talking “Hi. Can you make thetemperature more to my liking in here? Where is the hummus? Why can I not getpasta until 3? Is it too bright at this table? Can we move to a differenttable, please? Is this chicken free range? Where is mypea coat?!?!? Who puts lettuce on a grilled cheese sandwich?!” white. Laptopsand ridiculousness and entitlement everywhere! And I laughed my ass off. And Icomplained about cranberries in my rye bread and then offered my friend myscraps of crust while telling her that her journal should be a document of misery.

There was also a woman in there wearing a negligee as adress. She was likely in her 50s. Her boobs, however, were about 10 years old,her lips were 3 days old, and her face was about 1 year old. To say she was amess is putting it lightly.

It was all terrible. And I was bizarro Andrea in that place.I will never go there again. The end.

breathe easy for awhile

2012-01-04T09:45:00.000-07:00

After I got a wee bit anxious on Monday about my trip, I decidedto get out my book and my atlas and my info that I received from a good friendof mine who is from the NYC area and go to work. I shook off the nervous andremembered that I love to plan and research and travel and that I’m excitedabout this trip! And that if I did some good planning, we could maximize thingsjust fine.

So that’s what I did.

Then I told my travel companion all of my thoughts andplanning and made her a bit nervous, I think. Or overwhelmed or something. Imentioned this to my good friend and he was all “You tend to not display theusual caution that others do when it comes to going somewhere new. You seem tojust hit the ground with both feet and run! This can be scary for some. Reel itin.” Paraphrased, of course.

The thing is…I just love to travel and sightsee and take inthe city I’m in. I want to see it and do it and come home and feel like I wentto that place. Whether that is the touristy version of going to that place orthe being ensconced in local behavior version of going to that place. That’swhat I want to do. I want to feel like I was there.

Of course I have the sense to realize that I shouldn’t goand do everything everywhere. I know about safety issues and things of thatsort. I just don’t focus on that in my planning. I never speak it. I only speakabout the fun and the plans. Which, apparently, has led some people to thinkthat I’m a naïve hayseed who would get herself mugged and stuff. When that’snot the case.

The truth is that I’m a nerd. I get excited about the thingsthat I am excited about. I allow myself to be excited about it, too. Sometimesthat excitement spills over and gets all over everyone and announces to theworld that I am spazzing out with excitement! Yesterday, I couldn’t even standstill. I swayed. I danced. My friend laughed at me as we waited for theelevator. Because I’m an excited nerd that is about to go to NYC for the firsttime.

I think I do this with people that I’m really super excitedabout, too. I just get so excited aboutthem and nerd out and forget how to act or act really weird in order to notspook them or make them like me and want to hang out with me and I wind up, inthe end, being a huge idiot about it all. Because I’m a nerd that gets excitedabout stuff. And people.

Usually my nerdiness just allows me to go out into the worldand have a good time and not care what people think of me and the things inwhich I am enjoying. I like those times better. I don’t want to freak out my peopleswith my enthusiasm.

I’m a nerd. I don’t always know exactly how to act or how totone it done. But everything I do comes from my heart. I just hope that comesthrough louder than the spazziness.

"wait for it..."

2012-01-02T15:56:00.004-07:00

I leave for NYC this Friday.

Up until today, I've been excited and that was it.

The past two days I've been watching back to back episodes of "How I Met Your Mother." It's based in NYC. They show a lot of scenes of the city.

I've driven around the city on my way from Salem to Philly. It took forever. But I've never actually been to the city.

For some reason seeing these scenes of the city have freaked me out!

It's a huge city. There is so much to see! We're only there about two days. What if we don't have a good, solid plan for seeing stuff?!?!? What if we get there and then we're all "what do we do now?!?!'

This is the silliest and most ridiculous freak out I've ever felt bubbling under my skin. I'm holding it at bay. But...it's there.

I don't want to come back and think "What a waste of a trip! We were right there and didn't see x, y OR z!"

Ugh.

But, at least I have an awesome new purple coat to wear around and stuff. That's something.

I just want to maximize the time. And I don't feel prepared. And I feel overwhelmed even looking at all of the info. There is so much. So very much.

I just want a bagel, a slice, and to take awesome photos. That should be achievable...yeah?

Tips? Advice?

self-reflection...yeah, i just did that

2011-12-31T12:32:00.003-07:00

I don't really make resolutions at the end of the year. I never, really, have. Instead I usually try to tie up loose ends, get rid of trash, do laundry, etc. Try to start the New Year as fresh and new and organized as possible.

It's really tickling my organization bone that the year is ending on a Saturday. So neat and tidy and clean. I like it.

I'm not going to go nuts today with the cleaning and laundry and stuff. I've thrown stuff out. Cleaned up my emails a bit. Canceled my match.com account. Shaved my legs. Threw out old cookies. Balanced my budget. All low key and nice like.

People keep asking me what my resolutions for the new year are and I basically say the same thing: I want to continue digging myself out of debt and being happy.

There are a few other things I'd like to do, too, of course. Those are just the biggies.

I want to improve on my photography. My skills just aren't where they should be. Or once were. So, I want to improve that. I'm doing a weekly project with my friend, Sarah, that will help me keep that in focus.

I just want to be the best me I can be. For myself and those around me.

I wish you all all the love, happiness, and peace possible. Happy New Year!

it's hard just to keep the faith

2011-12-30T17:17:00.001-07:00

I'm sitting here with a rum & coke listening to the YouTube channel of Gotye and feeling all happy and cheery. Like I, apparently, do at the end of every year. I go back and read my old posts from time to time and what I usually find is that the holidays make me a happy type of bubbly. Which is fine.

So, let's do this. This year end review thing. Of the year that I'm currently thinking was mostly bad but will likely find out I'm totally wrong about. I mean, it did start with drunken muttering so that, really, can go either way, I guess. Let's see, shall we...

January: I received an email from the ex-husband letting me know he was going to be somebody else's ex-husband now and to thank me and my family for being so classy and awesome and yeah. It was really nice to read. Not the crap he was going through, of course. Just the nice stuff. The realizations he had about me and my family. That part. Then I went to the Suns vs Lakers and sat on the floor and watched Grant Hill's ass the entire time. I'm not going to pretend. Grant Hill and his ass and his arms and his legs and all of that were all I was there for. From the 2nd row on the floor. Not a bad place to be. Went to the first ComiCon in Mesa which was very Walking Dead heavy. It was super awesome and enjoyable and fun. My sister and I came to terms. I started working out a bit.

February: Continued working out. Got an unexpected, out of the blue raise. Went to the zoo. Went to another Suns game. Did some learning and training on a new thing. Sold crap on eBay to make a bit of money.

March: Went to see Body Worlds, which was fantastic. Then I had to go to the ER and have an emergency endoscopy. Did some cat sitting. Did some working out. Did a Jeep Tour and a BBQ festival fun day.

April: My Mom visited. I came up with the idea to take her and my friends to watch some bull riding. That idea was full of win. Mom and I went horseback riding. I subsequently wound up with a cowboy texting me for a few months. Went to LA to see Prince!! My Granny was in the hospital for a bit.

May: Went to free bbq night at a local bbq night. Toured the Mystery Castle. Went to a D-Backs game. I still hear D-Backs as D-bags and I still giggle. Went to the entirety of the Phoenix ComiCon due to people giving us full event passes instead of Saturday only. This was the month that I decided I was tired of almost bleeding to death each month and I finally made an appointment to get it all checked out.

June: Had a birthday celebration GeekFest for one of our friends. Went by myself to get an ultrasound and biopsy of my uterus. My Granny went back to the hospital for a few. Received the (now known to be bogus) results of my biopsy and had to take the worst antibiotics I've ever had to suffer through. Saw "Super 8," which is such a good movie it's worth being mentioned in the recap.

July: Had an ultrasound to find out if the antibiotics helped my uterus. Of course they didn't. You can't kill a fibroid with antibiotics. Seriously. I should call that doctor and tell them how dumb they are... Went to Jerome for a fun photo safari. Went to LoLo's Chicken and Waffles. I need to go back. Yum. Went to a 4th of July cookout. Started obsessively working on my Ireland book. Saw my first dust storm. Completed my Ireland book and ordered it. Went to a new doctor about my uterus woes and was instantly pleased and relieved. Had an awesome birthday week. Spent time with someone I'd been missing and that was fun and grand. Had my awesome birthday party pool party with little ponies and unicorns and Prince and rum and a pool and a haboob and it was all wonderful.

August: Went to a sneak preview of a movie. It had Jason Bateman and Ryan Reynolds in it. That's the most positive words I can use in regards to that movie. Celebrated my two years in Arizona anniversary. Went to my first scrapbooking event in years. Went to a karaoke party. Celebrated a bunch of birthdays. One of my bosses died. Totally unexpectedly and it is still, sometimes, so weird to not see him or hear him about the office. Finally got to see one of my friends play live and in person. It was loud and awesome.

September: Went to the lava tubes outside of Flagstaff and had an awesome "go me!" type of day. Was kidnapped in a van and taken for ice cream. Went to the boss' memorial service. Had my D&C and scope of my uterus. Went to take photos at a 10th anniversary of 9/11 thinger in Tempe. Cody had a cyst rupture. A week later I spent the morning at the vet with Cody to plan out his surgery, the afternoon at a scrapbooking fun time, and the evening at the emergency vet with my girl Phoebe saying good-bye. This is the time that something in my brain snapped and I lost it for a bit. I lost it so completely that I actually joined match.com and then went out and met a dude for Starbucks the very next day. See? Mess. I lost it. And was a mess.

I'll preface this next month by saying that the whole match.com thing deserves a whole post of it's own. Because of the entertainment it provided me and my pimps. The characters. I only went out and met two people and I acted like a mess with them and told them that I was a mess and that I joined because my dog died and that I was, honestly, unavailable. They both still wanted to see me again. Oy. Match.com taught me a lot and I honestly feel that part of my current happy mind is because I allowed myself to snap and be a mess and do this ridiculous thing. I really do. It was a nice reminder of who I am and what I want. And what I don't. I'm not looking for just anybody. I'm not even looking. Things happen or they don't. But Phoebe died in my arms because I said words and signed papers and then I lost my fucking mind. That's the tall and short of it all.

October: Sat and drank hot chocolate at a Starbucks while acting like a nut with a dude that was unattractive, uninteresting, and had never been alone. Even if I was looking, that wouldn't be it. I took my boy to the Dairy Queen for ice cream to try to combat the hardcore moping he had going on. Then he had surgery. Then I had my 2 year anniversary at my job. Then I acted more loony and messy. Went to look for fall leaves, found snow instead. Got super drunk and rocked out to the Foo Fighters live and loud. Went on a road trip to the coast to celebrate my friend's birthday with her favorite pasta salad. Went horseback riding. Went to see Louis C.K. and giggled a lot. Met the second dude over gelato. I don't even like gelato. So, yeah. Again, told dude I was emotionally unavailable and that my dog died and that's why I was there and blah blah blah. I mentioned a lot that I was a mess, yes? Yes. Dressed up for Halloween at my office and looked awesome even if I didn't win or place or anything. I know the deal. I was awesome.

November: Went to a polo party, got smashed, danced. A lot. Had fun. It was fun. But it was likely "Hi, I'm a mess!" type of fun. Went to a hockey game. Baked pie and went to a movie. Collected dog pee and took it to the vet. Got Cody a new dog bed. Cleaned out Phoebe's crate and started making baby steps toward de-Phoebe-ing my house to try to help Cody. Started thinking that perhaps I should wrap up the whole being a mess thing. Made an apology. Went home for Thanksgiving and had a wonderful time. Had a pajama party and got to see "The Muppets" with my niece and sister, which was awesome. Got to hang out with my family. However, just sitting and observing them and then taking one of my Mom's anti-anxiety pills made me realize that I was completely done being a mess. I'd allowed myself my time. I messed things up. I acted like a loon. I was done. So, that was good. Had a good time there. Flew home and then rushed back out to shoot a band. My friend was informed that she'd been awarded tickets to see SNL in early January and we started making our plans to go.

December: Ordered tires and did maintenance on my car and did lots of adult stuff like that. Went to a sketchy awesome independent theatre to see "Attack the Block." Saw "The Muppets" again. That was nice. Had my fibroid removed. All is well there. Had an awesome time at our office holiday party. Received a bonus. Finally made my guest room a guest room. Had a wonderful Christmas with my friend and her family. And basically, this month, I've just been all happy and joyous and full of sugar. Hanging out with friends. Dancing. Looking at Christmas lights. Eating cookies. Which happens every December. The holidays really are magical. And I really am lucky and full of appreciation to those around me.

So, yeah. I, again, am thinking this year may have had more happy than sad. I just think that the sads that I did have were just bigger than the usual sads and so they seemed to be more present or more dominating. I mean, Phoebe died. I had to make that decision and it sucked. One of my bosses died. A daily presence. I had to begin thinking about losing my Granny for real. I had to have surgery and stuff. Friends left. Sister terms became muddied again.

2011 definitely had it's low points. It did. But looking at this? Lets me know that my life really is much happier and full of yay than I've been thinking. As it always is.

Now I'm gonna go dance to this song. It just came on. Which is a perfect place to end this.

Happy New Year, folks. Love one another. Be all happy and shit.

everything was exactly how it seemed

2011-12-28T08:33:00.003-07:00

Out there, somewhere, right this very minute, thousands ofradio stations are playing a song by Adele for the five hundred thousandthtime. I honestly hope that the next dude she dates treats her nice and makesher happy for all the rest of her days so I never ever ever have to hear heragain. Not because she’s not talented. She is. Her voice is grand. As are hersongs. But radio stations everywhere have become a level of obsessed that canonly be compared to Sting in that every breath you take song that everyonethinks is super romantic but it’s really super creeperish and stalkery. Radiostations are that with Adele. She should take out a restraining order. Andclose her blinds.

This would all be moot for me if I could listen to anythingother than radio in my car. But I cannot. My transponder thinger for my iPodstopped transponding and my CD player will not eject CDs and I’ve got a shitty, shitty Prince albumstuck in there. Life is hard.

Except, not really.

I was thinking just this morning how lucky and fortunate Iam as I was preparing my person to go to work. I have a house that I’ve not hadto get a roommate in order to continue paying the rent. I pay all of my billson time and in the amount they ask me to. One of them receives much more thanthey ask for. I have a wee bit of cash in savings and am slowly building it upto my goal, which is meager but attainable and helpful in emergencies. I’mstill able to go to silly lunches at silly places like Black Chile. My dog is cared for. My car has new tires. I’mhealthy. And I’ve been able to keep plugging along nicely without having tofile for bankruptcy or anything like that. I’ve left what is in my IRA totallyalone this year, too.

I have friends that love me and care for me and about me. Ihave a family that loves me and cares about me and for me.

Life is good!

So, I danced around and hopped in my car and made my way tothe gas station.

The gas pump was in the “Lift handle and choose which gasyou want” stage. I looked at it. I looked around. I hit cancel. I’m not pumpinggas on someone else’s dime and possibly messing up how nicely my life isrolling along for me. Would free gas help me? You bet your ass. But that’sbeside the point.

I don’t know why I’m so cheery and full of annoying gleeduring this time of year. But I consistently am. And I’m not sorry. I’m glad. Iwish it would carry me through the entire year. We’ll see how things go.

For now, however, I’m just going to keep dancing, keep beingannoying, and above all else, just continue being myself.

I hope everyone had a joyous holiday season full of happyand yay! Mine, without any hesitation, was exactly that.

not a miracle in days

2011-12-22T09:54:00.000-07:00

Back when I had the ultrasound and biopsy of my uterus inJune, I was mostly convinced I had cancer. My sister has had cancer in her ladyparts area and my Gramma has, too. So, why wouldn’t I immediately think theworst? Other than it’s better to be optimistic. Which is so reasonable andlogical that it didn’t really occur to me at that time.

That horrendous doctor’s office, however, and their bullshitlab decided I simply had a pocket of pus in my uterus and made me take horrificantibiotics.

Bitches, please. I do not have a gross, pus filled uterus.

So, after fretting about that for a bit, I went to a betterdoctor.

She sent the scope up and in and found that I had whatappeared to be a polyp. While in there she scraped a bit of tissue out of myuterus, looked all around, and determined that my uterus is not only NOT pusfilled, but is also quite healthy. Other than the entity that was thought to bea polyp.

By this point my fear of having cancer was very low. Polypscan be cancerous, but the tissue that she scraped out and looked at didn’t showany signs of craziness so most of my brain said “Whew” and I went about mydays.

In all of our meetings, however, she had been very reservedin giving me hope that removing this polyp would solve my issues. She washesitant to really say that. Which, I mostly thought meant she was in “I’m adoctor and I’m covering my ass from being sued if I say that after I removethis thing you’re going to be totally fine and then you’re not.” I didn’t worryabout it. In fact, I chose to be positive and say “This is going to be it! Yes!”

Today, this morning, I went in for my post-op appointment.

Turns out, my polyp was a fibroid! Two totally differentthings.

It seems that while 99% of my brain wasn’t worried about cancer, 1% of my brain was. Because it knows that polyps can be cancerous.Stupid brain all knowing things. Maybe I should stop learning stuff?

Anyway…a fibroid! Disguised as a polyp. Fibroids cause more symptomsbut are very, very rarely cancerous or turn into cancer. And mine is totallygone. And? She said that my problems should be as well. And that I have apretty uterus.

I may have high-fived my abdomen area at this point.

So, yeah. She indicated that I should now begin to havenormal periods. Like a normal woman. Good thing my quirky woman status doesn’ttranslate to my uterus.

Then I walked to my car and as soon as I slumped down intothe driver’s seat, tears started to roll down the old face.

Stupid cancer fears hiding in my brain without me knowingit.

Now, may I never, ever have to write or think about myuterus this much ever again.

Happy Holidays to us all.

page is out of print

2011-12-21T10:13:00.002-07:00

When I’m all happy and things are going swell, I don’t writea lot here. It’s not because I feel like I need to be some tortured soul inorder to create words or whatever. I’m not an artiste. I’m just a girl with acamera and a blog and stuff.

Nah. It’s just that I’m too busy just being that I’m not allwrapped up in my own thoughts. I’m not living in my head. Over thinking.Picking things apart and questioning. I’m just going about my life on a day today basis and being happy.

Again, I attribute my happy to going home for Thanksgiving.Seeing my family. Being with them. Being happy with them. And being reminded ofwho I am. And what I want.

And that Ativan I took. That really did it.

Yeah.

So, I’ve just been rolling through each day doing my own littlething and being happy and all of that. Even when bumps come along. Which theyhave. Of course they have. Every life has bumps.

But bumps don’t have to ruin my life.

And the only person responsible for me being happy is me andI’m doing a fine job.

Plus it’s all Christmassy in my heart. I love Christmas. Ireally do. I get all shiny, happy, jolly and shit. And I eat a ton of sugar andI don’t worry about my pants not fitting because it’s sugar. I’m going to runabout and talk a lot and burn all of that shit off immediately.

So. Yeah. Happy Andrea is more energetic. She rearrangesstuff and builds beds and doesn’t just go home and plop down on the couch justto fall asleep by 8:30. Nope. She’s up and moving and taking care of businessand feeling good and staying up and reading and dancing and being merry.

None of that leads to having things to write about. Or workout. Or over think.

And it is all grand.

they lied at night

2011-12-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

So, I had my procedure and all of that last week, yes? Yes.

I was supposed to have my period this week.

I had a lot of bleeding after my procedure.

I’ve not had a period this week.

So, did my procedure just hurry it along or postpone it?

Or am I now pregnant in some weirdo Rosemary’s Baby typescenario? Did my doctor see how awesome my uterus was and decide to knock thatshit up in the name of all that is evil? Am I going to get really weird and eatsteak tartar and cut my hair into a really unflattering for my face pixie ‘do?Am I going to have weird nightmares? Am I going to give birth to some weirdodevil baby?

If so, can I write a book that will then be made into amovie? Because that would be great. I bet I’d make a lot of money off of thisand I could pay off my debt and help my family and friends.

I’d have a walk on role in this movie with at least one line.I’d apply for a SAG card and then I would walk around town and feel like Ibetter fit into my Prada sunglasses.

This is the best worst case scenario ever. Which means thatI likely already had my period and didn’t realize it, which seems most likelyfor I am sorta odd in an adorable manner like that, or that the procedure hastraumatized my body and I have an all new schedule that I’m not yet privy to.

I bet my body is waiting until Christmas and it’ll be all “Hey,here’s your period. You are NOT pregnant in some weirdo hospital operating roomdevil spawn scenario that you’ve come up with. Nope. Just out of whack due tosharp objects being inserted into your lady person parts. Merry Christmas!Drink some rum. But go change your pants first…yeah."

Basically what I’m saying is that it’s quite disconcertingto not have a period when you expect to have a period and there is no sexinvolved.

And that my mind wanders a lot as I lay in the dark afterfeasting on the meat of three different types of animals.

And that I’m weird.

Yeah.

super, you really are

2011-12-13T08:48:00.002-07:00

Apparently recovering from minor surgery is not quite assimple as I thought it would be. Which is quite lame.

Luckily, however, I feel way less groggy today and way morelike me and I hope that it’s not just the 100 hours of sleep I had last nightspeaking. Yeah.

Seriously. How exhausting should sitting at a desk for eighthours be? Not much, right? Except for the first day back after minor surgery,apparently. I was tired and sore and people kept telling me I looked tired andone person gave me a hug and it was all very much ugh. Then I went home,managed to feed myself, and fell into the sleep of the very tired. The end.

While I was home for Thanksgiving, my Dad gave me his usualgift of cash for Christmas. Instead of using it on a shopping spree, I alreadyknew I was going to use it like a responsible adult. Then the day before I was to leave, my Mom handed me a huge stashof cash.

I have now determined that my parents have more cash thansense. Or? They just love me a whole lot and want to help me. One of those.

To show them how much I appreciate this unexpectedassistance, I behaved like a responsible adult and I bought new tires and didsome maintenance on my car and paid off one bill in full and sent extra moneyto another bill and paid for my dental work and paid some money on my surgery.I still have $95.01 of this stash and I will likely send that to another billand life is all responsible and adult, yes?

Yeah.

Except I recently found out that a promise I made to afriend earlier this year is now due. A friend of mine has always wanted to gosee SNL live and in person and all of that and we were talking about it and Iwas all “Yeah, if you get the tickets, I will go with you” and she made mepromise and so I did.

Andrea keeps her promises. She is loyal and dependable andtrust worthy. Know this about me. I may be a huge asshole in lots of ways, butthese things are facts.

So, my friend put her name in the lottery for the ticketsand she found out a few weeks ago that she was drawn and so we are going to NYCin just a few weeks. We’re very excited.

Except I’ve been feeling quite like the irresponsibleasshole because my parents just gave me all of that money in order to help meout of my hole and instead I’m digging one of them deeper by going to NYC on awhim. A promised whim, but still a whim.

So I’ve been a very muted excited because I’ve been tornbetween feeling irresponsible towards my parents and feeling responsible forholding up my end of a promise.

I called and talked to my Dad last night. I’d alreadymentioned the trip to my Mom but didn’t go into detail about my feelings on it.

I did with my Dad. And he was very much “Stop it. You areallowed to live. We know you are responsible and you have to enjoy your life.Get that out of your head right now.”

I love my Dad.

Not just for that moment. That moment just reminded me.

I didn’t have the “Pretty in Pink” type relationship with myDad where I’d talk to him about boys and things of that sort. He’s a man of fewwords. He sits back and pays attention when you think he isn’t and then he hitsyou out of the blue with one line that says thousands of words.

Dads sometimes get the short end of the recognition stick.My Dad likely falls into that. But I love him and I recognize it and I’m reallylooking forward to him being here in February. We’re going to have a good time.

was that scar situated

2011-12-09T10:10:00.001-07:00

My whole day yesterday can be tracked with this very silly pain chart.

When I woke up, I was at a 4. Not because I was in pain, no. But because I was starving. But, I put on my adult clothes and went out and got my new tires installed and read and things of that sort. Then I came home for the waiting period between being home and being at the hospital.

During this waiting period, I got hungry and more light headed. So, what did I decide to do? Change the air filter for my heating and cooling system and change a battery in a smoke detector. All while standing in a chair and looking up and over my head while already being light headed.

I am stubborn and silly.

All of this resulted in me looking like 10 for a bit. These chores defeated me. And the smoke detector continued to beep at me like a fucker.

Then I go to the hospital. It is a very fancy hospital. Lots of fountains and glass and foreign business men being given tours. It was unnecessarily confusing, too. Lots of angles and corridors and more glass. This is a hospital, people. If I'm there, it's because I'm sick. I don't need to be further frustrated with your artsy architecture.

But they had therapy dogs so that made my 6 face turn into a 2 face.

Then my nurse wrote "hysterectomy" on my paperwork. That quickly turned my face into an 8. I did not want to leave there without all of my parts. This did not make me a 0 face at all. Oh no. I've seen 20/20 before. I saw that episode of "Gray's Anatomy." Please to not remove my parts, thank you.

Here's a thought...instead of paying attention to fancy architecture you can pay attention and not write hysterectomy on my paperwork before I go into surgery. Thanks.

Oy.

That was cleared up. We all nervous laughed. People popped in to ask me about the book I'm reading and then talk about various zombie shows and movies and so the two hours went fairly quickly as I lay there waiting. They all now think I'm zombie obsessed. I am not. I'm obsessed with quality entertainment. This book falls under that category. As does "The Walking Dead" (books and show, in that order), and "Shaun of the Dead." All zombie related, but also all very damned fine entertainment.

Anyway.

My anesthesiologist shows up, 30 minutes late, and starts talking to me about things. And then he and the nurse start rolling me to the OR, which makes my face turn into a very solid 6 until he injects some happy into my IV. He's all "this will work quickly" and I"m all "Yeah, sure, right, woah....this is.....erm...this is better than rum!" And they all laughed.

The OR looked like the interior of a spaceship from my imagination. Then I was rolling down a hall. Then I was asking questions and I don't recall answers other than "it went well" and "your uterus is totally healthy and good."

Recovery was boring. Except when I felt the slightest bit crampy and I said "I feel a wee bit crampy" and the nurse was all "Well, we can't have that" and gave me Demerol. Twice. Via my IV.

I liked the recovery room. It made me very much 0 face while I was there.

Then my friend drove me home and stared at me sternly as I made toast and made me swear that I'd not cook or eat anything crazy until I was sure I could. So, I did. And all I ate was that toast because I laid down on my couch and didn't wake up until almost 10pm.

My phone indicates I talked to another friend of mine. That was nice, I'm sure. Drugs, man. Woah.

I was still a big groggy this morning and I'm starting to get a wee bit crampy now. So I'll likely be on some Vicodin quite soon.

But this is all over and behind me and I'm going to know deep inside that my January period is going to be amazing and I can just go about the rest of my days being a 0 face.

eight hundred miles is a drive

2011-12-07T20:30:00.001-07:00

People love me. I'm still trying to just simply accept that. And that they all exhibit this in very different ways. And that sometimes those ways will be in direct conflict with what I want or think I want. All of this is fine and well. It's fine for them and it's fine for me.

As long as they don't stalk my friends, find their phone numbers, and call them to my side. That's a bit much...

I need to also realize that sometimes I think I'm ok with things but I may just simply be a wee bit nervous about them, which is also fine and well.

I'm having what I hope is my final procedure in this saga of my uterus tomorrow. Holy effing moly. I'm ready. I'm ready for the procedure to be over and I'm ready for it to fix me.

I'm thinking positive. I'm saying that it is going to fix me and that all will be swell and I will not have to visit doctors at all next year outside of routine maintenance. That I'll not meet my deductible and all of that crap.

They're doing it at the hospital this time which makes it seem far more serious than it really is. The hospital has to take a whole lot of precautions and has a whole lot of protocols in place that are all fully under the umbrella of covering their ass. I know this.

Doesn't mean it doesn't spike my nervous a wee little small bit when they ask me if I have a living will or a religious preference on the phone.

Yeah.

I've not slept well all week. Even though I've passed out on my couch the last two nights at 8:30. I haven't done that in ages. I've been all energetic and full of yay! for a good bit. And now, this week, I'm talking to nurses and making arrangements and having arrangements made on my behalf and I'm passing out on my couch at 8:30 and then tossing and turning the rest of the night and it all sucks.

I'm ready to go back to being calm and able to sleep. I'm ready to have normal periods. I'm ready to never take that Lysteda again. I'm ready to buy new panties. I'm ready for all of that.

I'm ready to stop feeling old.

I know that young women have issues, too. I do. But goddamn if all of this crap doesn't just make me feel all old and undesirable. Like I'm the bum female of the group. If I was an animal, the herd would leave me to die. I'd not be mated. I'd just be shunned and possibly eaten by wolves. Assuming I'm not a wolf in this weird scenario I've got going on in my head. I'm the slow deer that's stuck in the mud while the group runs far away to be safe from the wolves.

So, I'm ready to be fine and swell with my age and my lot in life. I'm ready to go back to simply being Andrea. Andrea who doesn't give two shits that she's 39 and enjoys her silly t-shirts and dancing in her kitchen and singing songs about her biscuits. Andrea that knows that it's just a bullshit number that doesn't matter.

This surgery will make that happen. Because this surgery is going to be a success and I'm going to be fixed! Because I'm being positive!

Yeah.

It's no big deal.

Me not getting to eat food again until sometime tomorrow evening is a big deal, though. Fuck.

One thing I've realized that is totally unrelated to anything is that me going home for Thanksgiving was an awesome thing for me. It snapped me back into reality. I'm not pretending to be a mess any more. I'm not a mess. I'm fine.

This week being the exception, of course.

Medical crap is expensive. Lord.

I was going to stay up super late and just eat all sorts of stuff to try to counteract the not being able to eat again until tomorrow evening sometimes. That's a dumb plan.

I didn't put up my tree this evening. I'll likely not get it up this weekend. I'll decide next week that it's too late. So, I guess I'll not have a tree this year. That is fine.

I have good friends.

I'm gonna go put Prince on a continuous loop.

then i'm a very manly muppet

2011-11-28T21:01:00.001-07:00

I got to go home for a full week this year. Be with my family that entire time.

I love my family.

However, by Thursday I was taking my Mom's Ativan.

There's no discussion or conversation there. It's all talking at, to, over, above, etc. each other and everyone around. With yelling and bitching and nagging and yeah.

If you open the fridge to get a small water bottle, there is no "where are the small water bottles? I'll restock the fridge." It's all "Geesh, where are the water bottles?" And then "Where did I tell you they are? God!"

When they informed me that I seemed testy? I decided to take a pill. The yellers called me testy.

The thing is, all of that yelling and noise and talking to and at and over each other just frayed all of my nerves.

I've been married. I was married a good while. I know that not every conversation is productive. But I know that more of them can be than not. I didn't yell and nag. He didn't bitch and moan. It was pleasant.

Why I'm the only one that had that is a mystery to me.

Then the sister crap hit the fan. And then my dad said the thing that he hasn't said in years. "Andrea, you're the responsible one. Let's just let this go."

My response? "Yeah...we talked about that line in therapy, Dad..."

Oy.

I loved being home. I loved being with my family. But I also really, really love being at this home. MY home in Arizona.

I know they love each other. And I know they love me. And that is why I took the Ativan. So I could chill out and relax and just enjoy them instead of cringing and trying to teach them to not yell and bitch. If they're happy conversing that way, who am I to stop them? Right? So. Yeah. Chill the fuck out pill.

I think in light of all of the various types of anxiety I saw on display while I was home, I've realized that I'm quite well adjusted and fine. So, I'm going to be that.

I'm going to work on just being. I think that is in order.

I don't understand the way dudes do their hair these days. It's weird.

I'm just really tired of having to be the one to let things go. How about other people getting called out on their bullshit for a change? How about that?!?

"The Muppets" was awesome. Totally awesome. The songs that Bret from FotC wrote had just the right amount of Conchordy goodness mixed in with Muppety goodness. I was filled with glee.

I ate a lot.

I am not slender or athletic and toned. I do not feel like exercising or keeping myself in shape or going out and tasting wine. These things do not matter.

Friends talk to each other, right?

One NyQuil is better than no NyQuils. And better for not being hungover on the 'Quil tomorrow than two NyQuils would be. It may have kicked in.

I feel like an asshole for having to take an Ativan to relax around my own family on Thanksgiving day.

I live alone, you see. Without cable. My house is nice and quiet. Just me and a golden retriever. And the occasional scorpion. But they're quiet, too. So, I'm getting set in my ways. Getting used to the lovely quiet and calm. I even have dim lighting. It's cave-like. I can pretend to be Batman. Or something. It's likely turning me into an old man. Get off my lawn.

It may rain this weekend. This is unfortunate. I need to mow my lawn.

The NyQuil has definitely kicked in.

2012 is going to be an awesome year...

colors show after the moon

2011-11-17T11:13:00.001-07:00

I follow the blogs and Twitters and Flickrs of a lot ofcreative types. I like creative types. They’re fascinating and interesting andI dig it. Writers, artists, musicians, photographers, etc. Creative. Intelligent. Thoughtful.Interesting. Yay!

Eventually, while following them, they will mention a bookor a movie or a poem or a song or album that took their world view, blew it up,and changed their lives forever. And they talk about it with such passion andrecollection that I’m left feeling those feelings of jealousy or somethingclose to it.

I don’t recall ever having an experience like that. Any “Woah…youjust blew my mind and I am transformed!” moments.

And, of course, it makes me wonder if I should. Am I notthat deep or intelligent or thoughtful? Why hasn’t anything transformed mylife?

I appreciate a lot of movies. I know them and love them.Same with books. And music. And art. All of that. I love it and I appreciate itand they can change my mood and take to me to other places. But none of themhave ever changed ME.

Like, when I’m feeling down I can put on “1999” or the “PurpleRain” soundtrack and let Prince raise my spirits. Works every time. But when Idon’t recall either of these albums blowing up my life when I first heard them.I just know that they are my go to albums, that they have the power totransform my mood and make me shake my ass as I shake the funk that is cloakingme. But that’s about it.

I’m thinking that, and this is where people may think I’mnuts, “The Muppet Show” and “Sesame Street” were those transformative arts onmy life. Shows about friendship and loyalty that also have that creative spiritbehind it. That could be why I put so much focus and importance on friendshipand loyalty and why when I choose someone as a friend, I think it’s somethingthat is going to be there. Because The Muppets taught me it is so. Because TheMuppets made my brain explode and say “yes!” Maybe?

Or maybe I’m just one of those people who’s been who she isand is just simply that and didn’t need any sort of explosion to figure it out?That’s always possible.

There is also the world around me. No matter if I’m cryingthe entire drive home as I did last night, once I see the sun set and the starspeeking out over the mountains that surround us here, I sigh and I become calmand the tears dry up. I think maybe nature is the art that speaks to me most.

When I even simply see the Grand Canyon on TV, tears appearin my eyes. It’s so majestic and grand and bigger than you and me and problemsand everything else. The entire Earth is. And there’s so much beauty andawesome there. So, maybe nature gives me tiny brain explosions on a dailybasis. Because it is so much bigger than books and movies and art and othercreative endeavors. Because it IS the biggest creative endeavor. Maybe?

Or maybe I just think too damned much and should just trygoing with the flow for once. Not think that if x, y, and z are having thesetypes of experiences but I haven’t that something must be wrong with me. Andthen scramble around to create that experience in order to feel as if I fit inand am normal.

There is no normal! There is no fitting in.

Just be me.

So, I am.

I’m going to strive to just be me.

I’m wearing my Mickey Mouse watch. It’s a good start.

i'm really into it

2011-11-14T21:14:00.001-07:00

Sometimes when that Nine Inch Nails song "Hurt" is on the radio and he gets to that line about "What have I become, my sweetest friend?" I like to pretend he's saying "What have I become, my Swedish friend" and that he's singing to the Swedish Chef. Which really doesn't make any sense whatsoever, but I do it anyway and it makes me giggle.

Some months, instead of having a few days of PMS the week before my period, I get it all condensed into one day. One lovely, awesome day where I have to actively talk myself through every moment of that one day. To just keep myself going. To keep myself from breaking down into a sobby mess. To keep myself from sending emails/texts/phone calls that I'll regret later, once I'm sane again. To just keep myself in that space of logic. Today was that day. It.is.exhausting. It's getting better. There was a time where I didn't stop myself. I let my crazy run wild and free. I did a lot of damage and I likely tarnished the way some people look at me. Which is sad.

Cody may have a kidney issue. Or a liver issue. Or a GI issue. Or a who the fuck knows issue. More tests have to be run. This is making me feel all defeated and blue.

When I was in therapy last year or whenever that was, she told me that I stifle myself too much. And I can see traces of that here. This is MY space. Mine. And I'll type something out that I need to get out of my head and then I delete it because it could be taken the wrong way or it could possibly hurt someone else and I hate the thoughts of hurting others despite what may be thought or believed about me. I respect what other people are going through, or at least try to. I don't want to add to anything with my words. But, she told me that while that is all well and good, I deserve respect, too. I deserve to be heard. I toggle between agreeing and not. Between feeling like I do deserve to be heard but not at the detriment to others. Then back to feeling like I don't deserve anything.

My life is not an open book. There are pages torn out here and there. So, you don't get it all. You don't know why I say that I don't deserve anything. But I do. I know what I've done. I know what I've been hoping and wishing for. I know that in one area of my life, I've not been a very good person at all. And I'm starting to think that karma is getting me back. Big time. And I'm helping by beating myself up. I'm helping by being stuck in place, wishing I had answers. Wishing for something other than silence. Wishing for something I'm beginning to think I'm not going to get.

PMS is a bastard.

What have I become, my Swedish friend?

who at one point had a name

2011-11-13T09:30:00.001-07:00

Matters were taken into my own hands and friends came over and pie was baked! I had pie and I had friends and I had fun. And I learned that making a pecan pie isn't that hard. At all. The waiting for it to cool so you can eat it part is.

I watched this week's "Parks and Recreation" episode this morning as I ate my breakfast. The part where Leslie tells Ben that not having him in her life even as a friend is just too crappy for her to bear needs to be a video clip. A video clip that I can send with an "I'm sorry."

I've just never really lost anyone out of my life that I wasn't ready to lose. And it sucks. A lot. I have no idea whatsoever on how to deal with it and I know that I just have to. Even though it sucks and it hurts and is too much for me to bear at times.

When I woke up this morning I was looking at things in the positive way. Like I should. But that little moment in that one little show was just too close to home and now I'm writing it out and getting it out of my head so I can go back to looking at things in the positive way.

I've decided to believe that dancing dude from fancy polo party saw me dancing there alone in my full on drunken childlike nerd abandon and decided that it was too much free and fun and awesome to not join in on and nothing more than that. Nothing negative. Nothing bad about me. All good and all fun and yes. The end.

I've decided to believe that even though three people have decided to simply not talk to me this year doesn't indicate anything negative about me. That it was just all bad timing and coincidence and that things that are meant to work out will and those that aren't won't and life will continue to go on and yeah. I don't suck. I'm not a horrible person. I'm not the only one who may be having one of the worst years of their life. Lessons will be learned by those of us that need to learn them and things will be sorted out and it's all good and fine and merry.

I got a pedicure yesterday. My toes are Warm and Fozzie. The girl who did my pedi was very sweet and friendly and we talked about life and love and things of that sort. At the end of it, she told me that it was nice to meet me and that I'm adorable. My take on life and love is adorable, I guess? I dunno. She almost hugged me.

Maybe I am just a big childlike adorable mess of a woman walking around leaving temporary sparks of whatever here and there. Maybe I need to grow the fuck up.

But I don't want to.

I'm making arrangements to see my Virginia friends while I'm at home for Thanksgiving. This is making me happy. I'll get to meet the son of one of my friends that I've not met yet! He's just over a year old. And I get to see the friends that I haven't seen since 2009. This is making me happy.

One of my friends is trying to put together a gathering of my home friends so I can see them all at once at some fun type event. This is making me happy.

I get to see "The Muppets" with my sister and my niece! This is making me extremely happy.

I get to be with my family for a week. This is making me the happiest.

Right now, I am thankful that I can see the positives. That I can sit here and do that without a lot of effort, even though I have a sad.

Right now, I am thankful that I have people who care about me and want to help me in even the tiniest of ways.

Right now, I am thankful.

I'm a sap. Blame my heart.

silence is golden

2011-11-12T14:46:00.001-07:00

I took him to be groomed today. Then I took him to the vet. Because I love him and I care about him and I want him to be happy and healthy.

But, I also admitted... out loud with my own voice...that I wished he were Phoebe.

I am a horrible, horrible person.

I don't deserve this sweet, goofy, loyal dog.

loud assed dishwasher

2011-11-11T19:31:00.001-07:00

I know that I've had a lot of happy, fun times this year. I really do. But, by most counts this has been a fairly shitty year for me.

As we all know, I've been allowing myself to be a mess for the past few weeks.

Well, the other day, I was looking for a calendar/planner to buy for myself because even though I am an IT nerd and I have a smartphone that syncs with my calendar and I have reminders popping up here and there, I do still really rely on writing things down, too. A lot. I enjoy it.

My planners wind up being a nice little journal for me. I can look back at it at the end of the year and see what is what and I use that for my end of the year recap. So...yeah.

I wasn't finding any that did it for me.

Until I found this one. And it kinda hit the right spot in me and said "Yes! Start the year with a positive attitude. Things WILL turn around. All you have to do is believe it and have a little bit of luck."

I already have so many fun events in the next year to populate some of the pages in my planner.

My Dad is finally going to come back out to see me and we're going to spend awesome time together.

My sister is finally coming out to see me and we're going to see Radiohead together. An entire show! One that can't be disrupted by unforeseen freezing to death.

My friend Sarah is coming to see me and go hang out at the 'con and have amazing nerdy fun times.

I've already been thinking about my birthday and what I would want to do. It's a big one. And I want it to be special. And I hope that those people that are special and important to me will want to join in and celebrate with me!

It's a whole new year. A clean slate. And I'm going to begin it with a happy and open heart. A positive frame of mind.

I'm not writing off the rest of this year, though it may seem that way. I have good, fun times to look forward to the rest of this year, too.

Things are going along and I'm going along and I'm sorting out my mess and seeing that it wasn't really such a mess anyway.

I'm fine.

I'm more than fine.

And I'm back to believing that things will, as they always do, work out.

muffled thoughts in my brain

2011-11-09T19:59:00.001-07:00

For the better part of this year, I've been working on digging myself out of debt a wee small bit at a time.

I take a step forward. I take a few steps back. I keep moving.

Recently, however, I've just kinda been doing that thing where I just do what I want and spend as if I'm not the responsible person that I really, truly am.

Polo party, polo party clothes, food, drinks, new t-shirt, Christmas presents, new phone, planner for next year, Radiohead tickets, Louis C.K. ticket......you get the idea.

My budget looks ok. I'm balanced to the penny and I'm seeing some progress here and there. It's great!

But I also just added a shit ton of unnecessary debt to my VISA.

All because I decided to be a mess and pretend that I should do these things in order to be happy and because life is too short to always sit at home to save gas money and not have any fun ever.

I don't need to do shit like that to be happy!! I need to stick to my goals, be productive, be happiness project oriented. Not spend here and spend there slap happy!

But, it's done and I'm going to not beat myself up.

When I returned home from my walk with my boy this evening, I noticed he's got a spot on his leg that he's chewed raw. And I thanked him.

I thanked him for being that reminder that I have other priorities. I have responsibilities other than just whim and messiness.

So, I'll make a vet appointment and we'll see what the hell is wrong with his leg that's making him chew it raw. After I get him groomed. And my oil changed, perhaps. And vehicle washed.

No more frivolous spending!

Yeah.

It's good to have a fluffy reminder to stop and reflect.

you left a light on inside me

2011-11-08T09:39:00.001-07:00

Before I moved to Arizona, I was hot all of the time. Iwould listen to people complain about being cold and how miserable it was and Iwould want to slap them with my sweaty hands. Repeatedly.

Before I moved to Arizona, a friend of mine that lives outhere would complain about being cold. And how miserable it was to him. And howit made him want to die. And things of that sort that basically just made methink he was being a whiny bastard. I’d even tell him he was being a whinybastard, that being hot is far worse. Far. And worse. We agreed to disagree.

I moved to Arizona during the month of August in 2009. Itwas 112 degrees the day I rolled into town. That shit was hot. I almost died. Isweat a whole lot and turned red. I didn’t greet my friend when he arrived withwater in any reasonable manner. I just grabbed the water he brought for me outof his hands and molested it like it was a bottle of pure Prince essence andthen lay back down to accept my sweaty death.

Then winter hit. At that time, I was surprised that thetemperatures were dropping down into the 50s. I was surprised that I wasfeeling a wee bit chilly. I was surprised that I was a wee bit uncomfortable.But, I still scoffed at all the others who were complaining and using wordslike “miserable” and acting as if they were going to die and soundingcompletely whiny and bastardish as they did so.

I made it through the summer of 2010 with less dying andwater molesting. I started to not have my AC set as cool in my house. Iincreased my cardigan collection and started wearing them year round.

The winter of 2010 seemed a whole lot colder at times. Andwhile I wasn’t whining and saying things like “this is miserable and I’d ratherdie,” I wasn’t scoffing at people so much. We even had frost and things that mademe feel justified in thinking “Well, yeah, it’s cold. They’re not reallywhining. They’re being truthful.”

Then in the spring I realized I was feeling all happy andalive anytime I left the cold, air conditioned tomb of my office and walkedinto the warm, sunshine and felt it touch my skin.

This summer, the summer of 2011, was hot. So hot. And yet myAC was still not set as low as it was in 2010 even. And I still wore, or atleast carried, cardigans. And did the happy sigh when I would walk outsideafter being in my meat locker of a cubicle.

Now it’s the fall season. And I’m fucking freezing. And I’m whining about it. Like, really fuckingwhining. I proclaimed yesterday that this weather is bullshit! I’m wearing asweater and tights and my boots right now. The high today should be 64ish.

The East Coast version of me is calling the Arizona versionof me a whiny bastard as she shakes her head. My family has no idea what tomake of me. I’m hoping I don’t freeze to cold, whiny death while I’m home forThanksgiving.

I turned my heat on last night. MY HEAT!! It was 70 in myhouse and I was freezing. And I turned on my heat.

It’s completely amazing to me how quickly thistransformation has occurred. It’s kinda neat.

If only I wasn’t so damned whiny about it…

careful how you live

2011-11-06T10:55:00.004-07:00

So, yesterday morning I got myself up and got myself put together for the polo party and was quite pleased with the results. I was comfy and looking good, if I can say so myself without sounding like an ass.

Once we arrived, we were all happy and caught up in the festive party atmosphere and started drinking at 11:30 in the morning. And then really didn't stop.

We walked around and took photos and posed with fancy cars and made fun of women who were wearing shirts and no pants and bad plastic surgery and things of that sort. Like ya do. All while continuing to drink.

At one point, the Arabian Club had some of their members riding their horses around to draw attention to the breed and the show that they have here in February. Arabians, truly, are gorgeous horses.

So, while the horses were out and about, I went to pet them and talk to them. As I do. Except, this time I was drunk. And I was whispering to the horses as I stroked their faces and likely came across as one of those weirdo horse fetish people. Or, I may have been turning on some horse fetish people. You can't tell when a horse fetish person is around, you see. They look just like you or me! Well, not me. I'm not a horse fetish person so they wouldn't, really, look like me, would they? No, they wouldn't. But you, maybe? I don't know your hobbies.

So, anyway. Drinking and having fun and only partly paying attention to the fact that there was, actually, a polo match going on. That's what happens when you mix polo and party, I think.

At one point they were doing announcements about the classes you can take there at Westworld and one of them was to learn to play polo. In my drunken state I was all "Dudes! I'm so gonna come learn to play polo!"

I'm not going to go learn how to play polo.

When it was time to do the divet stomp? I looked adorable:

That divet was happy to be stomped by me. Except, I think I was doing more of a twist on it. As I posed for photos.

Yeah. I became quite the camera whore yesterday. Oops.

When the match was over, one of the tents turned into a party tent. Or more of a party tent than it had been during the match. So, the three of us went over. Of course.

We talked to several really young dudes and told them how pretty they were. Which, really, just freaked them out and they went away to find the young girls who aren't creepy.

Somehow I became entrenched in dance. There was music. I was full of rum. Dance occurred. This happens. I don't recall starting, I just know I was dancing. And I'm sure I was being very spinny and I pointed and used thumbs and was being a nerd. Because I am one.

Then? There was a dude dancing with me! Out of the blue. He just appeared. Out of no place. And he was nerd dancing with me.

So, I went with it. I nerd danced with the dude.

My sober self is now fully embarrassed that her drunk self did her nerd dance in public in the day and age of cell phones capable of doing really good videos and then uploading them to YouTube. She is hoping that didn't happen.

My sober self is also pulling things that have been said to me by people in my life that say things about dudes and how dudes act and have said things that may have been out of jealousy but sorta came off as mean and I'm now convinced that this dude's friends saw me dancing alone, saw that I was a drunken nerd doing a drunken nerd type dance, and dared him to come over and dance with me. Otherwise, why would a cute dude at a fancy polo party want to dance with me?

BECAUSE I LOOKED NICE AND I AM SOMEONE THAT SOME PEOPLE FIND ATTRACTIVE, THAT'S WHY!!!!

I yelled that for my own benefit.

And maybe your's.

Even if he was dared, I had fun. And if I did anything to be embarrassed about, it won't be the first time. And it won't be the last. And it wasn't the worst. There was no kissing or waking up in any home other than mine and there wasn't a hot tub involved. Just really drunk, really nerdy dancing. And possibly one move where my hands were on the ground? Yeah...

Numbers were exchanged. And names. And ages. And dancing.

So, there ya go.

I went to a fancy pants polo party and had an awesome fun time, just like I knew I would. If only my anxiety would know that ahead of time...

told me that you'd never leave

2011-11-04T20:31:00.000-07:00

Tonight is the Old School Jam at the Arizona State Fair that I was so damned excited about. I'm, obviously, not there.

THERE'S A HABOOOOOOB!!!!!

Which means it's super windy and dust is blowing all around and got in my eyes and made driving irritating as all fuck.

Since I've been super dramatic the majority of this week, I'll share that I used to blast this song in my car and sing as I cruised around town as a teenager. For no real reason other than I was a teenaged girl and I felt like being dramatic. Teeanged girls are super awesome.

Besides the haboob, I felt very super strongly about going shopping to find a super awesome ensemble that I can wear to the super fancy and fun polo party tomorrow. And I was successful, as I knew I would be.

And? Just like that? My anxiety is gone. I have something that makes me feel comfortable, it's still something Andrea would wear, not a mask or a costume. And I'm not at all shapeless and ew in it. I'm shapely and yay! Dudes drinking champagne may even wonder if they should talk to me or not.

Anxiety has the ability to wake up all of the negative thoughts in my mind and rile them up and then my insecurities pipe up and it gets ugly. Like it did today. I cried. I was foolish on Facebook. A few people at work completely just ignored me.

But, my super awesome good friends near and far did what they could to shake me out of it, to help quiet the voices, calm my anxiety. People who really know me. That recognize what is happening and what they can do to help.

I love my friends. I like that even though they are likely rolling their eyes at me, they're still there. Because they are real.

Here's another old school jam. I'm YouTubing songs from my teen years and boogin' down.

Shall I remind you, once again, that I'm currently a mess and I'm just rolling with it? Because I am.

will set for you

2011-11-04T05:52:00.000-07:00

Last night I went shopping which can sometimes send me into a spiral of ridiculousness.

That's exactly what happened last night.

I dislike that Reader keeps a record of my whiniest words that I decide a few hours later don't deserve to see the light of day. Stupid Reader.

Also? I hate the new Reader!! This is not a good, happy change, Google. I hates it. Loathe it, even. But, whatever.

I've always had those periods in my life where I sit and I ponder my purpose. I ponder why I'm here. If I should exist. Do I make a difference.

This is not because I'm a depressed suicidal type. It's because I'm aware of the world around me. I'm aware of those people that have a clear, stated purpose. That are driven to do things. That are making a difference in some way.

I'm a thinker. Some people tell me I'm an over-thinker. And perhaps they are right if my conclusion is that I should spontaneously disappear by no ill doing on my own part. Or anyone else's. I'm not asking to be kidnapped. I'm not even really asking to disappear. I'm just aware that I'm one of the purposeless people.

If you didn't see me in Reader last night, this likely sounds like more gibberish than usual...

I think what just jumped into my head like a bolt of lightning during thundersnow! is that I have a lot of anxiety right now.

See? Even a mess can have a revelation!

There have been lay offs around me. This is making me twitchy as fuck...

Anyway. I just wanted to clarify what I spewed out of my whiny face last night. This is just part of me being me. Even as a teenager, I'd go and sit in my car up a quiet dirt road and just ponder why I'm here. It's something I do. It's something I'll do from time to time.

Ugh.

Anyway. Today's goal is to find a cutey dress that I'll feel super shiny and adorable in for the super fancy polo party tomorrow. I'll be hanging out in Scottsdale and drinking champagne and watching polo with a friend of mine from work. She's fancy. I'm not fancy. But I'll pretend. And if I don't feel that I'm pulling it off? I'll hide behind my camera. Yeah.

The other day I was lamenting my lack of inspiration. I've not felt inspired in some time. I don't have a daily dose of inspiration coming from my own brain or being sparked by dialogue with others. I used to. I miss having that. And I was whining about it. I'm whiny a lot recently.

Then? Blamo! A group I'm involved in came up with an idea to spark creativity on a daily basis! Just like that.

And then I was too whiny to be inspired last night.

I'm going to pull myself out of the fucking funk I'm in. I swear it! Happy, non-mess me is scratching just under the surface. She's doing OK.

Hell, messy me is doing OK, too. So there.

light shining through

2011-11-02T19:26:00.000-07:00

Apparently after admitting and accepting that you're just a mess? You feel better. Yay!

I'm still gonna drink this here rum, though. Why? Because messes drink alcohol for no reason. So there.

There's a woman that works on the same floor of my building that I've been in the bathroom with at the same time several times. She's very rushy.

She rushes in. She rushes into the stall. She rushes to disrobe.

Then she starts to pee what sounds like the equivalent of a horse pissing. Or a bucket of water being poured into a toilet all at once.

There's no slow start. There's no tapering off. Just "gush!"

Then she rushes out of the stall. She rushes to wash her hands. She rushes out the door.

I'm left sitting wondering if she's got herself a horse dick under those loose, flowy clothes she wears. It would explain a whole lot.

Horse dick.

Today was grouch day. Everyone around me seemed to be a grouch. I just sat back in my new found state of happy mess-hood and decided people need to chill the fuck out.

I mean, really. There's a woman in our building with a horse dick. SHE should be grouchy. And she is. And rushy.

Unless you're a woman that has to walk around with a horse dick, you have no real right to be that grouchy.

I'm glad I have dainty pee. And a vagina. No horse dick here!

Tomorrow I'll wake up and my pee will be large and in charge. And I'll say "Yep. I'm a mess. With bad karma."

I've self diagnosed myself with an as of yet diagnosed brain issue of a serious nature. I'll research and get back to you.

I need a vacation.

coffee black and egg white

2011-11-01T20:38:00.001-07:00

Some years back when I was having some financial and medical woe due to my dogs, a friend of mine and/or his wife told me about this credit card you can use for medical things of that sort that had the option to pay off balances without paying interest.

I have this card and I used it recently to cover the costs of Phoebe's tests and Phoebe being put down and Cody's surgery.

The statement came yesterday. I was already in such a mood that I just didn't want to open it and face that balance and figure out how to reconfigure my budget to make it work.

I opened it this morning. And a ray of hope shined down upon me and a smile may have begun to form on my face. But then I decided I should call them to ensure it is correct.

It is.

I have until 2013, interest free, to pay for Phoebe dying. The surgery has to be paid off by April. But I have a reprieve on the other. Until 2013.

I almost cried. Except my body has stopped producing tears. I think I ran out.

BUT!

I've finally sat myself down and accepted the fact that I am, currently, a fucking mess.

I'm ok with this. Now that I've accepted it. Being a mess is OK once you know you are a mess and can do whatever it is one does when they've accepted and admitted this.

I don't know what it is, exactly, that someone does when they've admitted to being a mess. But I suspect it's not what I've been doing thus far.

But, I'm going to ride all of this out. All of this mess and ridiculous I've got going on. See what happens.

This is likely going to be a bumpy ride.

just not tonight

2011-10-31T20:28:00.001-07:00

Halloween is for the birds, a photo by The Andrea on Flickr.

So, as I previously mentioned, my office had a costume contest today. The winner was going to win $500.

Sometime between then and today, two more places were added.

I didn't win any of them.

I'm going to be totally honest here...

I really, really wanted to win.

I know it's a silly costume contest and all of that and that I'm a grown assed adult woman and all of that mature stuff.

But I really, really wanted to win.

I'm currently mired down in all of the crap that's happened this year and I just wanted something happy and good that I didn't have to pull my toolbox out to use to peel back all of the crap before I could get to the good of a situation.

Instead, here I am pulling out my toolbox to peel back the ridiculous disappointment I feel so I can, instead, see that today was a really fun day at work, my costume was ridiculously amusing and awesome in my mind, other people liked it, and we all laughed and giggled and acted silly for the majority of the day and we were allowed to. It was a good day full of smiles and giggles and a boss that provided awesome prizes AND an atmosphere of fun. So, yeah, it was good.

I'm good at using my toolbox. It peels back all of the layers of all of the crap this year and I can see the good and the yeah about each situation.

I'm ready for a situation to occur that is just all around good. No toolbox necessary.

I was going to use the money to pay for my surgery.

SURGERY!!!!

This year has not been awesome as far as medical crap goes. But, again, it's not cancer. It's all just annoying little crap that requires procedures. And I have a friend that drives me and makes sure I don't come straight home to cook a grilled cheese sandwich.

I had to put my dog down this year. She's no longer uncomfortable.

My heart hurts. People have dented my heart this year. And it hurts. I can use my toolbox to see the good in that, even, but it still hurts. Silence is really fucking loud sometimes.

I just...I wanted to win and have something happy and good handed to me that couldn't be taken away the very next day.

I wanted to win and have something happy and good handed to me that didn't make me worry that I might have cancer like my sister and Grandma have had.

I wanted to win and have something happy and good handed to me that didn't include me having to lose one of my dogs.

I just wanted to win a simple costume contest.

I'm a silly and ridiculous person that simply wanted to win a costume contest.

Ah well.

Life as usual.

washing machine

2011-10-29T09:25:00.001-07:00

A few weeks ago I saw that Louis C.K. was going to be in town. I thought "I should look into that" and then quickly forgot that I had that thought.

Yesterday morning I logged in to the 'book to see if it was my turn on the Words with Friends beatings that I'm taking and I saw an ad on the side indicating that Louis C.K. would be in Phoenix tonight. Meaning last night.

I thought "I should go. I really should."

Then I thought "But my budget. And my responsibilities. And my debt."

And then I thought "You know what, Andrea? You are only responsible for yourself and your dog. You are a grown assed woman and if you choose to go see a comedian that you enjoy and take money out of your food budget to do so, that is your right. That is your right as a grown up. You have cereal. Buy milk and you are set. Go. Laugh. Have a Friday night out!!"

I didn't have to check with anyone. I didn't have to do shit. I just had to decide that I wanted to do something and then I did it.

I'm super glad I did. It was quite the giggle fest. Not laughing out loud with my big, huge laugh type of laugh. No. This was the really good "this is all so silly and absurd and I'm giggling and it's awesome" type of thing. Sometimes a big, long giggle fit is better than the big, loud laughing.

He discussed the difference in smoking pot in your twenties to smoking it after, basically, hitting 35 and why he doesn't do it anymore. I giggled so much while he was talking about this because it was just so fucking dead on!

I don't smoke a lot of pot. I hadn't smoked pot for 12 - 13 years. Then, I got separated. We do things during big, life changes, OK? I ran away to Arizona and then when I went to West Virginia my brother in law had some pot. So I smoked with him. And then? I got so fucking paranoid about whether or not I seemed high. And should I do into this bar with my sister or not. And worried that "they're all going to know!" And I giggled. A lot. And then I tried to act normal. Which likely meant I was being a huge assed weirdo.

He described all of that. It's like he was there and I just forgot.

When you're in your early twenties and you're getting high, you don't worry about that shit. You're young and you're getting high and everyone else is high and it doesn't matter. So, you don't worry. You just enjoy being high.

Adults worry. And we worry that others will know. Or we worry that the other person isn't as high and you're making a mockery of yourself.

Or we get high with a co-worker and then flip out and get paranoid that they're either going to tell on you or try to make a move on you since you're in their hotel room. And then you abruptly leave and then realize you can't drive and you have to call your soon to be ex-husband who you are still living with to come get you and then listen to a lecture.

Adults getting high isn't fun. Louis C.K. made it quite giggle worthy, though.

Anyway...

Giggles.

I had giggles last night and I sat and I enjoyed the fact that I'm just really not responsible for anyone or to anyone. I could make a last minute decision and not consider any other things.

Adulthood isn't all bad.

refrigerator humming

2011-10-27T21:00:00.000-07:00

Earlier today I learned of the existence of a pen that has Snooki on it. And it talks. And someone that I know and spend time with during the day has it and finds it amusing.

This, of course, lead to much eye rolling and many feelings of superiority and other things of that nature.

Then, as I'm here being all quiet and chilling with my dog and editing photos and playing a game of Words with Friends and researching new cell phones and thinking about getting my hair cut and looking at Facebook a wee bit, this happened:

Which makes me giggle.

I'm not superior to anyone. I need to stop rolling my eyes.

I'm a bad person.

But, I have a lot of rum left so I'll be a bad person that doesn't give a shit later. I'll be the honey badger of bad people.

I'm giggling because it could be construed as Phoebe being the person drinking all the rum. Which, if she were here, wouldn't surprise me. She was wild.

*sigh*

I know what I've done. I know the deal.

I'm a bad person and I, likely, don't truly deserve to be happy.

La la laaa, whatever, la la laaaa, it doesn't matter.

Honey Badger doesn't give a fuck...

at least it's not a taylor swift song

2011-10-26T20:56:00.001-07:00

"You can't just avoid everyone you screw up with." - Adventureland

"You don't get to come into somebody's life, make them care, and then check out!" - The Walking Dead

Sometimes, movies and TV are pretty damned smart.

Before I met my ex-husband, I didn't really date a whole bunch. I got married when I was a month away from 23, too. So, basically, I had a boyfriend-ish type person in high school and then some sexy time people that I'd just hook up with after that. And during my college years I had one boyfriend-ish type person and then some sexy time people I'd hook up with. I liked some of them, but I didn't really love any of them. I thought I did at the time, but I was young and drunk and things like that sometimes make you think you're in love.

So, there just wasn't a whole lot of traditional dating going on with me. Not until I met my ex-husband. We dated and then got married. We had fun and we did stuff and we were in love and then somehow along the way the love went away and that was that.

I was sad, but my heart was not broken. Not really. It was just sad. Of course it was sad.

During my divorce, I met a dude that was also going through that process and I thought he was interesting and attractive and there was some flirty type stuff and then he visited and we hung out. I wouldn't at all say we dated. Even though there was that one time that we held hands and skipped in a parking lot and saw a movie together and things like that that sorta look and sound like a date. And he walked my dogs with me and ran with Phoebe and yeah. We'd talk on the phone and it was very teenagery and nice and we both enjoyed it but we weren't dating. It was just two adults spending time with one another and, likely, other people, too in order to feel kinda sexy or whatever after being married for a bit. I don't know. Then it came to an end due to distance and stuff and that was that. No hurt feelings. No harm. No foul. Running of the course.

So, in my life I'd been super lucky. No broken heart.

Except for the past year. My heart just seems to be stuck in one long fucking cycle of breaking over and over and I feel like I'm not being an adult about shit. Like I'm some stupid assed teenager and that I need to shake this shit off already.

Courses get run.

I guess sometimes one person's course finishes before the other's.

My course was still going.

Everyone's luck runs out. Everyone has to have a real, honest, broken heart at least once in their lives, right? I guess mine just finally caught up to me. I'm finally acknowledging it. Being a fucking adult.

Being a fucking adult sucks ass.

But, it's what I do. I'm very adult. I just needed to remember that.

you got a brand new key

2011-10-25T20:04:00.000-07:00

You know those commercials for pads and tampons that show happy, smiling ladies riding horses and walking on the beach and dancing and doing all that fun stuff? Well, you won't see a commercial like that for Lysteda. In those commercials you'd likely see a lady person sitting calmly while reading a book. Or sitting calming while petting a dog. Or sitting calmly and just being fucking calm because if she goes hiking or horseback riding the good effects of the Lysteda will be rendered moot!!!

I'm not bitter.

This evening, I drove a co-worker home because his car died this morning. I'm nice like that.

Then, once I was home, it was all dark and stuff and I walked to my mailbox and the thought that I could be easily kidnapped at that moment and I didn't have my phone on me and the backdoor was locked and Cody was out and what would happen to him since he couldn't get back in the house, as if he even knows how to open a sliding glass door, entered my brain. And then, whoosh! it occurred to me that if I was kidnapped in that moment, my co-worker would be blamed as he was the last one to see me alive! I live alone. I didn't make any stops. I just dropped him off and drove home.

I'd be an unsolved mystery except they'd think the mystery was solved as they drug him to jail. Justice would not be served! I deserve justice!!

not inclined to resign to maturity

2011-10-23T16:36:00.001-07:00

Day 4: Zombride, a photo by The Andrea on Flickr.

My office, next Monday, is having a costume contest. We get to dress up and go to work and be fun and merry.

The winner gets $500!!!!!

I want to win.

I also want to go in there and be something totally unexpected of me. Most people that know me are expecting me to be a zombie or a robot or something nerdy like from Star Wars.

I want to shock and awe them! Be unexpected Andrea.

I'm drawing a blank.

HALP!!!!

I need ideas and I need 'em quick.

Please and thank you, lovely Internets people.

...with 100 Fry's points at...

2011-10-21T06:21:00.003-07:00

In keeping with the theme that this week sucks and Andrea is just not having a good fun time, I got to take a really bad Vicodin trip last night.

Yeah.

See, while the Lysteda does shrink my period from eleven days down to five and makes it not so heavy and gross and life threatening, it does increase my cramps. And not just a slight increase. It's the type of increase that makes me sit and think "you know....life threatening blood loss from my crotch isn't really that bad..." Yeah.

Like, yesterday I was in so much pain that my co-workers would call me, I'd say "Hello" and they'd say, in a very concerned voice "What's wrong?"

So, me and one of my co-workers remembered that I have some Vicodin left over from my procedure. HOLY SHIT!!! HAPPY TIMES!!!

So, I called a pharmacist because I am mature and responsible and I'd really rather not die from a drug interaction. The pharmacist told me that all was well, take them together, live it up, feel better.

So, I did.

Except, I didn't feel better.

I felt hot and incredibly sweaty and gross. But I was cold and shivery, too. Then I was all shakey and dizzy and black outy. And super duper on the edge jittery but also deep down inside calm, too. I was a mess and I was, quite frankly, scared.

Clearly, I made it through. And I'm singing a Barry Manilow song in my head. Which I'm going to attribute to the bad trip.

So. I'll just live with cramps today. But it'll be OK. Today is fun road trip for my friend's Super Awesome Birthday Road Trip Extravaganza!! Code name: Shovelin' Pasta Salad.

Quick change:

My Mom has gone crazy and wants to buy me presents. I've not been able to afford to buy myself stuff and/or things for a bit so I don't really have any superficial wants because I've not even allowed myself to think about things of that sort. So, other than "I just want to pay off my debt" and "I would like to visit my friend, Sarah" I don't have any thing to put on my list. She wants a list. And all I can think of for my list is:

1. I want Phoebe to not be dead.
2. I want (redacted) to be my friend again.
3. I want Cody to never have to go through surgery again.

None of that can be bought for me. So. The list she received is "I want to visit my friend, Sarah, in Colorado." She wants more list.

I guess I could have bigger Mom issues than "Mom wants to buy me things."

headed for a lowlife

2011-10-19T20:34:00.001-07:00

My surgery that was perfectly scheduled for early on a Friday morning in December was rescheduled for the middle of the goddamned day on a Thursday. I'd already asked my friend if she is free and able to help me and all was well. And then blamo! They do a switcheroo on me.

My period started last night, four days early. My prescription for the non-bleeding to death but now you get to live with horrific cramps pills didn't have any refills and my doctor took her sweet ass time in authorizing the pharmacy to fill it.

I have to have a wee bit of dental work done.

I received this email from someone I don't even really know: "just thinking of u today alot?" Umm....I don't understand the question and I won't respond to it.

I'm going on a wee fun road trip this week. It's gonna be awesome. But, it means I need someone to watch my boy. Which means more asking people to help me out. Which means I called places that charge you money to watch your dogs. But then my friend heard me on the phone and she was all "I'll watch him!!" I know she'll take good care of him. But she has two dogs and they've never met and I'm nervous and over protective of my dogarinos, you know. So....blargh. It's nice and I'll take her up on it, but I just wish I had some other options.

People are hot and cold and driving me insane. You either like me or you don't. You either want to be my friend or you don't. I've never been around so many flakey assed people in all of my days. I'm used to people either liking me or not liking me. I don't know how to deal with this yes I like you, no this is all business, oh I guess you're ok, who are you again type of bullshit. The hot and the cold. It's giving me a complex and making me want to hide in a hole.

I may be running out of people that like me.

So, with all of that...I just....I wanted to cry all day. All fucking day I was just one second away from collapsing in a mess of tears. The cramps hurt like things that are painful do. My feelings are just hurt and super sensitive right now. I hate having to ask for help. I really do. I hate it.

And I dislike even further having someone smugly say "Well, that's what happens when you move so far away and are single."

Can I have a rummy drink right now to relax? NOPE!!!

Instead I cooked some bacon and stood in the kitchen and shared it with my boy. He's really digging this whole routine of yummy foods being given to him.

I'm alive. None of this is going to kill me and some of it is slightly amusing. I just...I'm whiny and I don't deserve to be giving any of it voice.

/whine

the thought of being ousted

2011-10-17T20:13:00.001-07:00

A few months back I heard that Foo were coming to Phoenix.

Foo is one of those bands that I greatly enjoy seeing live. There's a lot of bands that I greatly enjoy but once I see them, I've seen them. I don't need to do that again. Foo Fighters is not one of those bands.

I first saw them in either 1995 or 1996 at a college's football field. For $5. On a tiny stage. They fucking rocked the shit outta that football field. They didn't play as if they were doing some small show for not many people. They played it like they loved it and it rocked and it stuck with me.

So, I go see them when the opportunity arises.

Before the show, I met up with a friend of mine for dinner and a drink. Which turned into three. Which was really more like six because of the amount of rum they were giving me. They were not being stingy with the rum.

We go to the show. We get to our seats. Foo come on. They fucking rocked it. I danced my ass off.

Now, when I say I danced my ass off, you need to understand that I do not dance well. I enjoy it, but I'm not good at it. But last night I was full enough of rum that I just let myself do my funky twisty, jumpy, hippie arm movement type of dance that I do when the Foo are on and I was happy and I was free.

I sang. I yelled. I danced. I smiled.

It was an amazing good time and yelling along with those songs as loud as I could as I just danced and bounced and twisted and hippie arm movemented all over the place just kinda released a lot of crap that's been trapped inside.

I continue to be impressed at how much Dave Grohl runs and yells and sings and smiles and interacts with the crowd and runs some more and just doesn't seem to be about to die at all.

Me? My lower back hurts. My knees hurt. My throat hurts. I'm hungover. But I'm happy and life is swell.

Complaints? Yes.

My favorite of all of the Foo songs is "I'll Stick Around." They did not do this. They closed the show with a rockin' rendition of "Everlong" but no big "I'll Stick Around" sing and jump along for me.

So, let's all do it now. You'll like it. Let yourself go. Yell. You don't owe anybody anything. I don't owe you anything.

I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING!!!!

But, you know what else?

I'll stick around. Yeah...

Goddamn I love that song...

rain and smooth jazz

2011-10-16T12:10:00.000-07:00

You can listen to rain and smooth jazz, too. It may make you want to take a nap. It's making me want to* take a nap. But not a lone nap. A nap in which there are feet that are attached to the legs of someone else. Feet that stretch out and find my feet and say "Hi, I'm here. We're napping and being intimate in the sweetest and simplest of ways." I love that.

Ah, well.

Cody no longer has staples. He no longer has a conehead.

I woke up this morning and thought I heard Phoebe in her crate crying.

I haven't gottten rid of her crate yet. I haven't cleaned it of her blanket and pad, either. I started to yesterday and it started to make me cry so I realized that I was forcing something that I wasn't ready for so I left it.

I've washed blankets, though. The blankets in the living room that she'd lay on. That seemed like the right time and the right thing.

It is getting easier. May not sound that way to those reading all of my sad words, but it is.

This weekend has been nice. Not as much sad. Not as much moping. Just me and my boy hanging out together. Me doing some cleaning. Me breaking up the home chillin' with a lunch with my friends. Then more home chillin' and cleanin' and yeah.

I cooked bacon this morning.

I was reminded yesterday of what a beautiful thing the Internet is. And friends. Friends that use the 'net to join two people together that are experiencing the same thing at the same time. It's amazing and beautiful and kind and good. I love it.

A friend of mine came up with an awesome and fun and exciting and completely silly idea for her birthday and I cannot tell you how happy and excited I am that she did that and that I get to be part of it!

There is happy all around.
------------------------------------------------------------
*Want to! I left out the words "want to" which made it look and sound like I was taking a nap with somebody and their feet. And I wasn't. I just wanted to. And I felt like I should clarify. For I'm, like, weird and stuff....yeah.

i can't be thrown

2011-10-15T14:43:00.004-07:00

Fine. I just watched "Glee."

cheer up lady

2011-10-13T20:31:00.002-07:00

Cody has always been a quiet dog. Always. Anytime he has barked in any significant fashion has always seemed to be as much of a surprise to him as it was to me.

Phoebe, well, was the complete opposite. She didn't, really, just sit and bark without reason, however. She, for some reason, decided she was my alarm system. My protector. She'd bark at unfamiliar noises. She'd bark at unfamiliar cars. She'd bark if someone was in our space.

She had really well and definite boundary lines, too. I learned this while we lived in the apartment. If we were in front of the apartment or on the ledge and we encountered strange people, she'd bark. Once we were on the stairs down to the sidewalk, though, she'd go off duty.

I've been under the assumption that I no longer had a warning system in my home.

I've been wrong.

My boy is rising up. My boy barked this evening! At sounds that he heard that seemed out of place. And it was a good bark. A deep bark. A bark that would let people have second thoughts about coming in here with ill intent.

On Sunday my doorbell rang. He barked then. Once. One bark. And even then I was impressed. Even if I thought it may have been a fluke.

I know this is just twice now. But I'm liking what I'm seeing from him.

He's come a long way from that yellow ball of fluff that I had to teach how to walk up and down stairs.

We're settling into our new routine more and more.

Life goes on and on.

she ran into the wall

2011-10-12T20:50:00.000-07:00

This is gonna be a mishmash. There may not be any real flow or form. If you bear with me, I thank you.

I've been feeling guilty over choosing to euthanize Phoebe and agonizing over whether it was the right choice for her or not. I know it was. Even if she could have recovered from the surgery, how much does one little dog need to go through year after year, you know? It would be easier if she could have talked to me, but the truth is, I just really, couldn't put her through a huge surgery. Not with her history. It felt wrong and cruel. It seems wrong and cruel that I allowed a doctor to put an overdose of anesthesia into her body until she stopped breathing, too. But it seems less wrong and cruel than the other. The surgery and the recovery and then whatever would come to her next. If she even survived the surgery.

But, I've also been feeling guilty because...I lost my favorite dog.

Yeah. I still have a dog. And I love him. He is goofy and he is sweet and loyal and awesome. He doesn't know he wasn't my favorite. All he knows is that I'd let them both lay with me on the couch, I'd let them both put their heads in my lap, I gave them both cheese and pepperoni, I gave them both rides in the car, I took them both for walks, and I sang songs to both of them. That's what he knows.

But I know. In my heart I know that Phoebe was my favorite and I feel guilty about that. You shouldn't have a favorite! You should love them each equally. Right?

But I didn't.

Here's where I may lose people...

I just felt a more special connection to Phoebe based on our similarities. I just felt a connection to her, like she was a kindred spirit. Just shorter, covered in fur, and with the ability to lick her own butt. Not everyone liked Phoebe. Not everyone could get past her crusty outer shell to see that she was sweet and loving and loyal and awesome and full of life. Her love of her routine. Her being so strongly attached to that in which she chose to attach. Her food, her toy, her space, her me.

I dunno. I just feel like we understood each other better than anyone ever would. I may be crazy here. But it's how I felt and it's how I've always felt. She got me. I got her.

My ex-husband on many occasions wanted me to get rid of her. I felt so strongly about NOT getting rid of her that I once told him he would not win if I was asked to choose. She was my girl and I was hers.

I'm not that easy to be around. I know this. To those that know me and love me, you may not agree. But talk to those that really don't know me. They'll tell you.

Talk to those that loved me for a little while and then saw my crusty outer shell and decided they didn't like it so much.

I have many people in my life who love me. I know this. I love them. With my whole heart. I may be all crusty outer shelly and may not really show it as much as I should, but it's there.

But I also have some people who have been very important to me who have, for one reason or another, simply decided they cannot be my friend. Some of them I can reflect on and see that it's OK. They were really only meant to be part of my life for a season or to teach me something.

But there's a smaller number that I still feel are supposed to be there for a lifetime. And they're just not hip to that plan yet. And I want to get growly and maybe even bitey over all of this and make them see.

But I won't.

Doesn't mean I've given up on those numbers. It just means that perhaps I feel that to go the long haul, I should just step back. Step aside. For them.

And a bit for me, too. Right now I just feel like I've been banging my head against a wall. Trying to force a square peg into a triangular space. I'm tired at the moment and perhaps just need a time out. And people likely need a time out from me, too.

I just felt a kinship to that girl. My dog. And I know that a lot of people are going to read this and think I've fucking lost it. But I haven't. I'm actually able to type all of this out without any tears.

The ex emailed me today to see how me and the boy are doing. That was nice. I like niceties like that.

A few months back I was telling a friend of mine about the young cowboy dude that had been texting me and some of the things that were said in the texts. This friend, a dude, said "He's likely just blanketly texting a lot of ladies to see if one sticks."

That stuck in my head and keeps bouncing around from time to time. Like...am I really so unappealing that it simply couldn't be a case of the young cowboy dude simply wanted to text me and me alone? Am I truly that unloveable?!?

I'm leaning towards yes...

We're all dealing with our own shit. We all need to learn to be a wee bit more understanding of one another.

Me included.

Like, I have a friend who doesn't deal well with the crying and sad stuff. I know this and I accept this. Without any hesitation. She has the full lifetime pass on not having to come over and look at me while I cry.

I'm not that understanding of everyone.

Which means I'm a jerk.

I don't like knowing that I'm a jerk and not being able to do anything about it. Why? Because I then feel like a bigger jerk that is also a hypocrite.

I have a good heart, I really do. I don't love easily but when I do, I do. I get hurt easily. When I lose things that are important to me, I don't easily shake it off and move on. I like to understand.

I miss my girl.

I miss those that can't be my friend right now.

I'm a sad Andrea.

But I'm feeling clearer. Thank you.

traffic on the two oh two

2011-10-11T20:57:00.000-07:00

I mentioned to a friend of mine that I thought I should get Cody a new bed. One to replace the two that he and Phoebe shared. He's never had a bed of his own. They shared beds. So, her scent is all over them. I suspect that wasn't really helping so much. My friend picked this up for him and he loves it.

I tossed one of the two beds. It's all I could do. And that made me all teary.

Last night, I sat here and read the year-end recaps that I do. I just felt like maybe I needed to get some perspective on the here and now and things of that sort.

What I discovered is that for the last few years, I've had budgetary issues. I've had family issues. I've had dog health issues. I've had oh shit I'm laid off issues. I've had friend issues.

But, I'm here today. None of that killed me. None of that has prevented me from having a nice house to live in full of furniture and a bunch of unnecessary crap. None of that has prevented me from taking care of my dogs. None of that has prevented me from going to lunch with my friends. None of that has really prevented me from doing anything important, really. I'm alive. I'm sheltered. I'm fed. I'm clothed.

I have to stop and really appreciate how my life has worked out and how I always land on my feet. I need to work on appreciating it in the here and the now.

I do let myself get mired down. Right now, my excuse is that I'm sad and riddle with guilt over Phoebe. Which is valid and true. But, I don't need to snowball that into everything. I don't need to use my sadness as an excuse to look at my budget and freak the hell out. I don't need to use my sadness as an excuse to look at the people who have come and gone out of my life and convince myself that I'm basically an unlovable asshole. I don't need to use my sadness as an excuse to be lazy. I don't need to use my sadness at all. I can be sad and I can still be a functioning human being who doesn't look for shit to add on to the sad. The sad doesn't need accessories. The sad doesn't need apps. The sad can stand alone.

I haven't given up. I have simply changed course. I'm doing what is best for me. I'm doing what is best for my boy. And, hopefully, I'm doing what is best for those around me. I don't give up.

I'm not a giver upper.

I'm a changer of course.

The sad stands alone.

2011-10-10T19:35:00.001-07:00

i give up

birds singing, golden crying in pain

2011-10-09T09:52:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, a friend of mine and I were scheduled to go on a road trip up North to hopefully catch some trees exhibiting their fall colors and use our cameras a bit. Her house is on the way, so we met up there.

I arrived a little early and she was still getting ready. So, I hung out with her roommate and her two dogs. As I've done several times before.

While he and I are talking about the drive and the weather and whether or not my cashmere hoodie will be warm enough in Flagstaff, the dogs started to play and wrestle.

It hit me like a ton of bricks and I had to fight the tears from falling out of my eyes. It was out of the blue and I was surprised and hit off guard.

Then he went upstairs to get himself ready for his hike and the girl dog came over to say hi. She's a loving and sweet dog and I was petting her and the tears just started to flow and I couldn't stop it. Then the boy came over and they both tried to give me kisses and love to make the tears stop.

I got myself together, but when my friend came downstairs, she could tell something was wrong. And then girl dog walked over and bam! tears started again.

Neither of us were prepared for my reaction to this. This being around a boy and a girl dog that are happy and sweet. My reaction to a happy and sweet girl. Neither of us had even considered that would be a possibility. Why would we?

So, we left, I recovered, and we drove to Flagstaff and talked about serious stuff and nonsense and took in the scenery and had a lovely day.

We didn't get to see any fall color, not really. A sprinkling of yellow here and there was all. But, we did get to see snow. My feet got to look like this:

We drove back towards Phoenix and stopped at her house to get ready for dinner with some of her friends. Boy dog walked over, I was fine. Girl dog walked over, I was teary.

Dinner was had, I came home, I spent time with my boy, I slept.

My plan for today is to clean. It's been two weeks. I need to shake off my funk and take care of business and clean my house and go to the grocery store.

I need to begin the process of de-Phoebe-ing my house.

I don't want to do any of it.

I want to be lazy and lay on my couch and pet my boy and watch Hulu and Netflix and read comic books and cry and be sad.

I've lost dogs before. I was still able to function. But they all died on their own. I was never part of the process.

I don't know how to move on from the guilt and the sad. I wish I did.

I don't want to de-Phoebe my house. I already de-Phoebed my life. I de-Phoebed her life.

I killed my girl and I'm just so fucking sorry and sad and there's nobody to apologize to. Nobody to speak for her to tell me that I did, in fact, do what was right for her. I was her voice.

I was her voice and I silenced it.

I should silence my own for a while.

not a temporary love thang

2011-10-06T19:38:00.000-07:00

After a horrible evening with my boy that resulted in us both laying in the floor and crying and then an even worse night that consisted of him crying a lot, needed to go pee a lot, and then begging for food like a drunken hobo, I was all primed and ready to have a simply horrid day. And it appeared to be going that way after I paid a bill and then realized I was overdrawn on my account and didn't have anything to transfer over to cover it and blargh.

It's been a rough two and a half weeks. Yeah.

But, I am who I am and after I allowed myself to hit that Scarlett O'Hara zone, I then perked up a wee bit and researched the Arizona State Fair. This will be my third opportunity to attend the fair and I'm gonna do it. I'd decided as soon as I was informed that you can get a Navajo taco at the state fair that my little ass would be there. So, yeah. Yum.

Specifically, however, I wanted to know who was going to be performing at the state fair, see how it compared to what I remember from growing up.

No comparison.

The Arizona State Fair is fucking bringing it, y'all! And by "bringing it" I totally mean "holy fucking shit, I'm totally gonna go dance my ass off with Lisa Lisa and Stevie B." I ain't even gonna lie about this. I immediately pulled up my worky IM system and IMed a co-worker and she was all "there you go" and I was all "yeah" and there you have it. Except it was all way more excited and dorky. You know it was.

This evening has consisted of me coming home to a very perky and happy Frankenpuppy Conehead. There is a breeze blowing outside and the temperature is amazing. I have the screen door open and the AC off. I'm YouTubing 80s videos and dancing and my boy is dancing and things feel happy and good.

Slowly but surely we'll get into our groove and the happy and good will be the norm again.

In the meantime, we're just gonna dance...

uncomfortable golden crying

2011-10-05T19:26:00.000-07:00

It's been a rough couple of weeks in regards to my dogarinos. Ruptured cyst. Then my girl...

Now my boy looks like Frankenstein and is making me queasy when I look at him.

We've been through the surgeries before and I've always handled them well. But he's also always had stitches. This time, based on the size of the cysts and the length of time he'd been under, they went with staples.

They.are.freaking.me.out.

It's all stapley and gappy and puffy and red and angry looking and I'm queasing up just coming up with adjectives to describe them.

But, he's home and with me and I'm trying to make him feel comfy and happy.

This, too, shall pass.

La la la la laaaa.

This, too, shall pass...

a deluge of rain

2011-10-04T21:25:00.001-07:00

As I've been dealing with how I feel about the Phoebe being gone, I've also been dealing with how my boy feels about all of this.

Last week mostly consisted of him laying in the floor in various parts of the house and crying. Loudly. And pathetically. And in ways that were breaking my already broken heart. This was interrupted by a few times of him rounding up Phoebe's toys, piling them up, then laying beside them. Or on top of them. As he cried.

So, I took him for walks and that would perk him up for about five minutes and then bam! Back to the crying he went.

So, I decided that I was taking him on an outing. I was getting this boy some ice cream. He's never had ice cream before. And? It would mean a ride in the car. He's a dog! He loves rides in the car.

Well...when he's not a broken hearted shell of a dog he does, anyway:

This is the dog that stood up for four out of the five and half hours it took me to drive from Virginia to my parents' house in West Virginia. Smiling and looking out the window and putting his head on my shoulder. So, when I realized he was back there doing that? Holy fuckamoly did it ever hurt my soul.

He finally perked up once we reached the Dairy Queen drive thru and he could smell food. He still wasn't super perky, but he was at least standing up.

I ordered our ice cream then drove around to the window. The dude saw me then saw Cody then asked if the plain ice cream was for him. I said yup. Because that was the answer. He then proceeded to let me know that if you order a pup cup, it is free. And they put it in a bowl that is easier for them to eat out of. And they put a dog cookie in it. So, that's awesome. I love the Dairy Queen even more now:

Sidenote: You see my super awesome robot pouch? My niece bought me that. I use it to hold money, cards, license, etc. Everywhere I go? People comment on it. Ask me where I got it, tell me it's cool. All people. Hipsters, cool chicks, nerds, shy guys, persons who cannot be labeled. They all love it. My niece is stylish and shit. That's all about that...

So. I park my car, he's getting a wee bit perkier. I take him to sit down and then I give him his ice cream. And what I had dubbed Operation: Tail Wag was deemed a success:

He ate the cookie first. Then he tackled the ice cream. And he wagged his tail. And he said hi to people. And then he stood up the entire trip home and put his head on my shoulder.

We're gonna get through this. It's getting a bit easier day by day. Even though the image of her head slowing falling to one side did just pop into my head this morning and almost blind me with tears as I drove to work out of the blue and all unexpectedly and stuff. But we're doing this. And we're doing it as a two man team. And we can get through and yeah.

Tomorrow, I have to take him for surgery. Normally these cyst removal surgeries don't worry me a bit. I can't say the same this time. I'm a bit worried for him. I'm a bit worried for me. I just want him to be ok and comfortable and to come home and all of that.

Lovable little shits, I tell ya.

Anyway...send happy and healthy vibes towards my neck of the woods tomorrow for my Bubba Bear. Please and thank you.

absolute quiet

2011-10-01T10:54:00.003-07:00

I hate how quiet and empty my house is without Phoebe.

I hate how sad and lonely Cody is without Phoebe.

I hate that tonight will be a week since I lost her and I've yet to get a real hug. An honest to god arms around me, I'm so sorry that you lost your Phoebe type of hug.

I hate that I need a hug. I should be able to take care of myself.

I hate that I may make those that have reached out to me in such awesome ways feel like they are not appreciated with my whining. That couldn't be further from the truth.

I just hate that my girl is gone and I will for some time.

I hate that I'm so involved with hating my girl being gone that I have no idea what is going in with my friends' lives and if they, too, need hugs.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck...

the crying of a sad golden

2011-09-27T20:37:00.000-07:00

There's a thing on Flickr where you can choose to allow your photos to be chosen for licensing and all of that, right? So, I did that. And they chose a bunch of my shots. And while I don't think anything will ever come of it or that they are really giving us a super awesome deal, I did all of the paperwork and submitted all of that stuff that needed to be submitted because I need any money that can possibly come my way to do just that. So, there you have it. I can be bought.

I just went to check my account to see if my photos had been through the final approval process and discovered that they had, in fact, been approved and are now on sale.

This is one of them:

I'd forgotten that. And I already do not like the thoughts of this being licensed and used for anything other than my own personal love of this dog. I sold my love of my Beagle.

I have a lot of guilt going on right now with Phoebe and her no longer being here with me. It sucks and it hurts and I'm beating myself up and my boy is laying around crying and this house is just so fucking quiet now that I want to run away and yeah. Sadness. Guilt. Grief. Anger. I'm going through the stages and reading supportive websites and doing what I gotta do.

This quote

Yet the person who worries most about not having "done enough" is often a person who has already gone to superhuman efforts to care for that pet. A far more dangerous form of selfishness is to prolong a pet's suffering simply to postpone one's own.

is what I'm holding on to in order to maybe help the guilt go away.

I loved that little dog more than I can express. She made me happy and she made me smile and she was just so special and I cannot even really explain with words the why of that. She just was. And I always appreciated people who gravitated more toward her than they did Cody. Cody's easy to love. He's a Golden and he's textbook and goofy and sweet and grand. Phoebe was different. But just as awesome if you just gave her a chance. I appreciate those that did.

I gave her a chance.

But then I also made the decision to end her little life and I held her and I felt her heart and her lungs stop and she went limp in my arms and it's killing me. It's killing me that I did that. That she was alive and now she is not and it's because I said words and signed papers.

Dammit.

This will pass. I will get through this and me and my boy will be happy once again. I know it. I worry about him. He's a boy, you know. It's not my experience that boys are really all that strong. But I'm here to get him through. And he'll somehow even help me get through.

I'm not always going to be a bummer, I promise. I just...I saw that photo there in my contributor account and the guilt sorta lava'ed up into my brain and yeah. Just, fuckin', yeah...

wasted on

2011-09-25T11:55:00.000-07:00

In 2002, I decided I wanted to add a second dog to our family. My husband was unconvinced. I was, at that time, focused on wanting a Corgi.

Then I encountered a woman and her tiny Beagle baby in a PetSmart parking lot. Before I knew what had happened, I had that woman's puppy in my hands and I was loving it and kissing it. Once I came back to reality I was horrified at how rude I was. She walked away without hitting me. My family and I walked away knowing that if I were to get another dog, it would have to be a Beagle.

Enter Phoebe.

Phoebe was a handful. She came with mites. She had to be kept separate from Fred. I had to wash my hands and arms after I held her. I had to vacuum the carpet under her cage daily. I had to bathe her daily, which resulted in her screaming as if I was plunging knives into her body. She wouldn't sleep through the night due to extreme itching. She was impossible to house train. She had resource guarding issues. I couldn't do laundry or dishes without her immediately getting into things. She was either asleep or at 100% full on motion. She wouldn't cuddle with me. She growled a lot.

I frequently wondered what I had brought into our lives.

But, in between all of that, was this tiny little Beagle puppy that I always wanted. This adorable little creature that would moan when I picked her up. That would give me kisses on my face as I carried her down the stairs in the dark to take her outside to pee. That would play tug of war for hours without tiring. She would bark and run and smile as she did so. She had spunk and a loving personality.

So, I put forth the effort that she needed in order to trust me. I taught her to eat her food in the same space as her family. I taught her that when a loud noise was around that she could sit near me, that it wasn't a big deal. I took her to the doctors and did everything it took to get her relief for her allergies.

I never gave up on my girl. And she never gave up on me. We were a team. She was special and amazing.

And now I'm talking about her in the past tense.

I wish that wasn't the case. I wish she was still here to bark at me and get all up in my face to tell me it's time for dinner. I wish she was here to boss Cody around. Or to bark at him until he chased her around the house.

Hell, I even wish she were in my backyard eating poo right now.

But she's not.

I came home yesterday and found vomit and blood in my kitchen floor. It only took me a second to identify that it was my girl.

I got Cody situated and I took my girl to the ER. She had trouble breathing the entire trip there. They checked her gums and took her immediately to the back. We did x-rays. We consulted with a radiologist in San Diego. We talked about her history and her present and her future.

The doctor that worked with me and my girl was truly amazing. She was compassionate and kind and I cannot thank her enough. She put her arm around me. She gave me space. She gave me understanding.

I had to let my girl go. I had to say good-bye to Phoebe.

I simply could not put her through any more than she already had been. She almost died on me last year. I did what was needed and we had another full and wonderful year together. We took walks. We snuggled on the couch together and watched movies. She lay on my belly after my procedure and tried to make me feel better. She made me laugh and she made me smile.

I had to thank her for all of that and give her some comfort. Her allergies have been worsening over this past year. She wasn't her full happy. She wasn't her full comfortable.

So, they wrapped her in a blanket, put a pee pad on my lap, explained the procedure and let me say good-bye to her for a few minutes. I explained to her how sorry I was. And that I only wanted to do what was best for her. She lay her head on my shoulder and was completely calm.

She didn't fight the drug. She relaxed, her breathing slowed, her heart slowed, and then...she was gone.

They, of course, gave me all of the cremation options and I chose to not have them here with me. Phoebe was not a box of ashes. Phoebe was personality and spunk and energy! You cannot hold that in a box. But I can hold it in my heart and my mind and I will forever.

I am very fortunate to have people in my life that understand, fully, the love and devotion one has for a pet. I have people I can talk to when I am ready. Right now, I am only ready for this. For sitting in my living room with my boy as I type words of love about our girl.

My home is now so much less alive...

neighbors setting off fireworks

2011-09-23T22:04:00.000-07:00

I had to go to my GI doctor today for my six month followup. He explained that the medication I'm taking daily could increase my risk for osteoporosis.

He then pointed out that I'm thin and white and that I'm at a higher risk of osteoporosis anyway.

See? Being thin and white ain't all it's cracked up to be.

/offensiveness

Then, later today, I went to my two week post-op follow-up for my uterus. She's healthy! She just has a polyp of non-cancerous origin that needs to be removed. Well, the tissue that was around it was free of hyperplasia. I'm going to just go right on ahead and assume the best here.

Hopefully within the next month I'll have it removed. More fun meds and anesthesia for me!!

Sigh...

I'm old.

I'm old and unappealing and unwanted.

I'm not a young, foxy lady.

Fuck it all.

text message notification sound

2011-09-21T20:43:00.000-07:00

Early this morning I woke up and I felt crampy and ugh so I went to take precautions to ensure I wasn't going to wake up in a pool of my own blood since my period is due on Monday but it likes to be spontaneous and wild. I was quite convinced that it had arrived early and was surprised when it wasn't the case.

So, I went back to bed and tried to go back to sleep and I just couldn't. I just felt really crampy and ugh.

Which, made me lay there and think about all of those women who are so in tune with their bodies that they can feel their egg drop or whatever. I'm not one of them. I'm so much not one of them that I sorta believe they are all just pulling my leg and wanting me to look silly by even talking about it so they can later point and laugh and say "You believed that?! Man...you are dumb!"

Basically I just have a fear of being wrong and /or dumb and it manifests in weird ways. Leave me alone.

So, no. I don't know when I've ovulated. I don't know when my period has hit the tracks and is on its way. I'm usually surprised. And unprepared. Well, not so much when I was on the pill because it was regulated and like clockwork. 28 days, period. Not so much these days. And with the procedure I had earlier this month, I suspect the schedule may be screwy.

Anyway, I did doze off and then when I woke up I was even crampier. I thought that was it and went to the bathroom.

Apparently I simply needed to go. You know. Go. To the bathroom. Yeah.

And now I'm telling you this. Did I say I had a fear of being wrong and/or dumb? And that it manifests in weird ways? One way is NOT in regards to admitting that I had need to poo cramps and mistook it for period cramps on my blog.

So, yeah. I am clearly not in tune with my body.

However, in my own defense, my body has been doing weird things recently, ok? I had the procedure and it just threw everything off. I finally got things worked out and was feeling good and so I, erm....well....I took care of my own business a few days ago and the resulting happy ending made my uterus hurt. I, apparently, shouldn't be having orgasms this soon after having my uterus scraped. Who knew, right? I mean, they said not to insert anything. They didn't say anything about exterior business! And happy endings.

I'm dumb.

And now you know that I poo and masturbate. Hi. I'm a 39 year old woman. This is just reality. Deal.

Anyway.

This evening I go to the pharmacy to get my medication to make my period not try to kill me and I'm informed that my insurance won't approve the refill until this Friday. If my period begins before then, well...I'll deal with it. And I'll remember the last two months fondly. As I suck on raw steak to combat iron deficiency.

Stupid pill. Stupid insurance time constraints. Stupid body for being all out of whack. Stupid stupid!!

This is one sexy post, right? I'm gonna have all the dudes calling me. I should say something cooler...

This past Sunday, once I was settled in after the dog fun, I situated myself on my couch, laptop on my lap and watched a double feature of "RoboCop" and "Die Hard." That, my friends, was a quality way to spend some time. I should have had a beer or five with me. Maybe this is why I'm not in tune with my body? I'm full of high fives and fist bumps and quotes like "Bitches, leave!" instead of whatever I need to be full of to notice dropped eggs.

Unless my eggs don't drop and I don't know it because I've never had my fertility tested because I've never seriously tried to get pregnant. There was that three month period that I went off the pill on purpose because we decided we were ready and then each month I realized how fucking elated I was once my period arrived and how the walls in my house were getting closer and closer to me and that the air seemed really thick until I proclaimed, out of the blue, "I am not ready for a baby and I want my pill back!"

So, yeah. I don't have eggs. If I find out I'm eggless one day I will not be surprised. But I may then be upset that I couldn't have had a baby and that the decision wasn't mine and then be ridiculous because I like to be in control.

This is all over the place.

I don't care if blogging isn't really still a thing. It's a thing for me. I like it.

in your childhood dreams

2011-09-18T19:51:00.000-07:00

Today I spent about five hours in the animal emergency hospital. My boy is covered in cysts, as he always has been, and one of them decided to rupture today. Because it knew I really didn't want to take my vacuum cleaner apart to find out why it continues to clog, dust my house, and change the sheets on my bed today. He was simply doing me a favor.

So, every animal that comes in today is a dog. No cats. No birds. No lizards. Dogs. All dogs. Well, one dog brought along a scary camel spider (I was going to link to a photo but I can't bring myself to do it. I pretended those people with the scary camel spider in a plastic container had a nice camelback cricket in there instead. I cannot let myself admit that those live anywhere near me. Nope. Not gonna do that. I can't. Denial on this subject is vital. Back to the real narrative.) that it had tangled with. A beagle. The dog is fine. The scary camel spider was, apparently, not poisonous or toxic or whatever you call it. The helpful dude at the desk got online and went to Wikipedia and gave all sorts of helpful info about this thing. I tuned it all out. I know all I need to know about the camelback cricket.

Anyway, lots of people came in with dogs in various states of distress. Three of those people left without their dogs. Left in tears. Left me in tears.

Yup. I sat there at the doggie ER and cried for strangers who lost their doggies today. It kills my heart. One lady had to bring her doggie there knowing she was going to leave without it. She tried to be strong. But she lost it. And then I lost it. These fuzzy little animals weave their way into our hearts and they don't get to stay for very long. It's hard to love someone who is so dependent and loyal to you and who loves you so unconditionally and have to just lose them after seventeen short years. Yes, I know, seventeen is a good age for a dog. It's just....life is short. And I love my dogs.

He's fine. Of course he is. He's too goofy to be anything other than fine. Which I love about him. He's my even tempered, roll with the punches boy.

But those five hours were horrible. Dogs died. The temperature was really cold. I was bored. I didn't have lunch before this happened and I'd eaten very small breakfast so for hours and hours I was really hungry. Big scheme of things, it was a few hours and I got to eat and I didn't die. Little scheme of things is that I'm a white American who really hates being uncomfortable. This is how much of an asshole I can be, OK? I know that there is real suffering in the world and I sat and whined to my sister via texting on my effing BlackBerry that is completely unnecessary to anything about how hungry and cold and bored I was. And she went along with it. There was no "Andrea, keep shit in perspective. People are losing their dogs. Other countries don't even have clean water. There's camel spiders to be concerned with. Quit being so suburban."

The reality, though, is that I didn't complain to the hospital staff people because my main concern, really, was my boy. I didn't want to leave to get food and then he be ready and me not be there to take him home making him stay there longer than he needed. I just wanted to make sure he was comfortable and happy. So, I kept my whining between my sister and I. And maybe a wee bit on the 'book. #asshole

And, yes, I will use hashtags wherever I please. Thanks.

This incident, however, has left me deeper in debt. Whatever, right? My boy is home and alive.

He's my boy. Even if he wasn't brought into my life to really be my boy, he was from the start. Even when we went to pick him out, he was mine. He chose me. He came to me. He sat in my lap. He gave me kisses. A little, fluffy, blondey, ball of hair. Mine. And I love him. And I want him to be comfortable and happy. I want him to not be covered in cysts the way he is. I don't want him to have to continue to go through this every so often.

But, again, he is alive. And I'm fed. And all is swell.

Now, I must go hug my dogs while I have them here to hug.

sinners are much more fun

2011-09-16T20:00:00.001-07:00

So, it is getting to be that time of year that people begin to start talking about breast cancer awareness and doing things to bring awareness to the fact that breasts can get cancer and put pink ribbons on everything and sell pink colored products at an increased price so they can donate $1 to some breast cancer research place. Things like "save the tatas!" will be said and printed on things.

I used to participate in all of this. At the time, I didn't really look at the bigger picture. Or maybe I wasn't exposed to the crappy side of this charitable time enough. I dunno. I just know that I one day realized that this was all annoying to me and I stopped participating.

That's not to say that I like cancer or think breast cancer isn't important. Oh, no. Quite the contrary. But, I also know it's not more important than any other cancer. All cancer sucks. Not just cancer of the boob.

And, really, this is all a weirdo part of our fascination with boobs and everything boob related.

Everything breast cancer related is pink and discusses women. Men can also get breast cancer. Yup. They can.

We proudly flaunt signs that say "save the tatas!" But...shouldn't we focus on saving lives? Not just the boobs?

And, again, how weird are people?!!?? Save the tatas. The same tatas that you throw a fucking fit over if we catch a .06 second glimpse of part of one on TV. The same tatas that people frown upon if shown on a magazine cover while being used for breastfeeding. So, you want to save them but not look at them? Huh?

I also sorta think it turns women into victims, too. To focus on the boob cancer and make everything pink and talk about saving part of our body. We're people. Like men. And when one of us people gets cancer, we all need to be saved.

Also, if you really wanted to be all woman-centric, why not bring awareness to cancer of the ovaries, cervix, and uterus? Those are all female specific. No matter how much of a bitch ass a man is, he doesn't have a uterus. So, if you really want to have pink products and be all awareness raising to save the frail lady folks of the world from the cancers, talk about those. They suck, too. A lot.

Again, not saying that breast cancer doesn't suck. I just think the marketing of breast cancer sucks.

Women aren't fragile flowers that need our boobies protected by buying pink blenders. We're really not.

However, all people who have cancer need this much attention. All people who have cancer need this much support. (no bra jokes, or I'll cut you) All people who have any type of cancer at all are fighting a fight and need all the money and research and care and concern that we can all muster.

It's like the whole Casey Anthony thing. Yeah, it sucks that her little girl was killed and it's sad and all of that. But, why doesn't every single child in this country that is killed garner that much attention?

Now I'm just rambling and ranting.

I just would like to see more thought put behind support. Not just blind support of the cause du jour. I'd like a bit more thoughtfulness.

I'd actually just like less cancer...

looks as though you're letting go

2011-09-15T19:33:00.000-07:00

I've recently been dealing with my true feelings on having my trust in someone betrayed. I thought I was ok with it. But, really....I'm just kinda not. I want to be. It's kinda one of those things that I strive for, you know? Being patient and understanding towards those that I care about. Being patient and understanding towards those that have somehow triggered my sense of loyalty.

That doesn't mean that everyone gets my patience and understanding. I'm not even handed, I know that. But there are different levels and stages and types of relationships and trust and yeah. So...you know what? I'm a human being and I'm flawed and I'm doing the best I can most of the time.

So, I was watching last night's Daily Show on Hulu just now and Common started talking about being a human being with flaws and blah blah. Something I already know and deal with and wish others would know it, too.

Here's the whole segment with Common:

I've been struggling with my own belief that we're all human and we're all flawed and that all we really need is a bit of love and understanding. That things happen in our lives that take us off track and blah blah more patient and understanding words. Because I do, very strongly, believe that.

At what point does being patient and understanding turn into "Andrea, you're a fucking idiot and way better than this person deserves." At what point does my feeling like I'm being brave and strong for having faith in someone and having myself opened up to them need to take a back seat? At what point do you just...close off?

I used to close off immediately. Now, apparently, I don't know where that valve is. And I'm frustrated with myself and I'm frustrated with life and I'm sad and I'm angry and I'm beginning to think that I'm just a fucking idiot.

I've struggled with expressing myself for a bit now. But, Common just reminded me that I need to be me. That I need to be the me that I want to be. So, I'm being me.

Which creates the struggle again.

I really don't think I'm a super awesome terrific person. But I do believe I'm doing the best I can at most times. And I do believe that I deserve the trust that I give to be respected.

Life is hard. But it's just not as damned hard as some people make it. It really isn't.

Dammit...

"you're not terribly important to me"

2011-09-12T20:24:00.000-07:00

Driving down the road this morning, I noticed a convertible. With an old dude driving it. The top was down. The old dude was topless. I stared a bit longer than usual because it's really not that often that I see a topless old dude driving a topless convertible at seven o'clock in the morning.

Old dude saw me seeing him.

Old dude decides to give me the look.

Then old dude decides to put his arm around the passenger seat as he's giving me the look as if to say "this could be your's, baby."

Yup. That's how my day started.

After that epic start, it would be hard for the day to get any better. But, in fact, it did just that.

A friendly co-worker type person gave me a late birthday present. It was thoughtful and nice and out of the blue and it has brought beauty and inspiration to my evening. With things like this:

This book has made me realize that I would do whatever it took to grow some nuts and then I'd give my left nut just to have the opportunity to photograph Prince. Any part of him. If they said "you have ten minutes and all you can shoot is his hands," I'd make the absolute most out of those ten minutes. And I'd have ten minutes worth of a lifetime of wanking material to boot. This book has wowed me with light and poses and chest hair. I feel inspired and like I have a whole lot to learn.

Today also included a trip to Five Guys Burgers and Fries for what I secretly dubbed "Operation: Make Shit Happen." It was a huge success. Little bacon cheeseburgers are magical.

One thing that I realized while I was at the Five Guys is that I enjoy watching the people come and go from that establishment more than any other. You can usually tell the difference between the people who are simply there to have some lunch and those people who are on an outing of excitement. Who sat around and planned this lunch and was all "Awww, yeah! Today is Five Guys day!" It's a very clear look they have on their face and it amuses and pleases me immensely to see it and recognize it.

Today was a good introduction back into my routine.

the sound of my belly crying out in vain for fried chicken

2011-09-10T12:24:00.000-07:00

I've not really had a vacation this year due to lack of money and my having to use my vacation time for sick time thanks to some miscalculations on the part of persons who are not me and my not tracking shit properly from the start. So, no fun time off for me.

This week, however, was my vacation week. I had already taken Thursday and Friday off for my scope and scrape and we were off on Monday and then I was going to work Tuesday and Wednesday. Until I learned I had two more vacation days in which to use before October 7th or lose them forever. So, I just went ahead and took those days off and had a nice nine day weekend, still in progress.

My end of Summer vacation! How did I spend it? Well, I'll tell you!

Saturday: I went to the lava tubes outside of Flagstaff with my friend and her family. Yay road trip!

Sunday: I organized photos all day and then I was kidnapped in a van and taken for ice cream! Best kidnapping I've ever experienced.

Monday: I organized photos all day. I know how to party.

Tuesday: I helped tile a kitchen and then I went to a memorial service for one of my bosses. Which, is still quite weird and I'm not quite used to the idea yet that he's really not going to be at work any more. Life is short, kids. Let those you love and appreciate know that you love and appreciate them. Be strong. Be present. Don't take the easy way out of your own life and avoid things that may be a bit hard, you'll miss out on good stuff that way.

Wednesday: I continued to help tile a kitchen and made the decision on where to have lunch. I also slept in a wee bit and stood in my kitchen for a while and watched a hummingbird chill out in my tree. My week of vacation has been a week of leisure. I dig it.

Thursday: I took a Vicodin and a Toradol and then drove myself to the doctor's office and felt groovy. Then I listened to the anesthesiologist explain, very well, to his student what he was going to do to me and the risks and stuff through the wall, which made me nervous. But then he came into the room and I told him I could hear him and then he somehow managed to make super unrelated to anything small talk with me which calmed me down. I then went to the room and sat in the chair of doom and he said "you should start feeling groovier any second" and I started to giggle and I started to lay down and I continued to giggle and then the next thing I know I'm sitting in a recliner fully dressed and my friend and her Mom are there and I'm all "who dressed me?!?!" Anesthesia is weird and wonderful. The knowledge that I have to do this all over again to remove the thing in my uterus is not wonderful. Part of me is all "we knew something was in there. Why didn't we just schedule this for the hospital so we can just do it once?!?!?" But the other part of me is all "None of us trusted my last doctor and my new awesome doctor told me this procedure was mostly diagnostic and yeah." Also, I'm happy I have insurance and I will try to never take that fact for granted ever again.

Friday: I had Oreos for breakfast while watching the same hummingbird be lazy in my tree. I then did errands and watched the tiling of the kitchen happen without my assistance and then went to lunch where my lip swelled and then I was exhausted and came home to Vicodin and couch. You don't realize how much you use your abdomen area in mundane tasks until you have a general feeling of uncomfortableness and deep cramps living in that area. Just getting in and out of the car while doing a few errands becomes a tiring act. Wheeee!

Saturday: Which is today. I'm being way leisurely. And wishing I had fried chicken. But not wanting to go out and get fried chicken. Because I believe I need to do a whole lot of nothing today. Yup. Stupid elusive fried chicken.

Also, during this week, I finished watching "That Mitchell and Webb Look" and developed a fake TV boyfriend type crush thinger on Robert Webb. Mostly because of Sir Digby Chicken Caesar.

And there is the tale of my End of Summer Vacation, still in progress.

your own thinking this is fun

2011-09-01T11:01:00.000-07:00

My period started Monday evening so that means I startedtaking the Lysteda on Monday evening. And while I want to kiss everyoneinvolved with this medication and the bringing it to my life, I also sorta wantto punch them in their crotches for making it make my cramps worse than theyalready were.

Like, women who have normal periods and normal cramps lookat me and say things like “You need to stop taking that” or “You need to callyour doctor” because they cannot fathom feeling as bad as I do and theyimmediately think that there is something seriously wrong and that I shouldCALL SOMEONE! and TAKE CARE OF MYSELF BETTER! and YOU MAY BE DYING!

I used to be one of those women. With the small cramps andthe short periods. I know where they are coming from and I am trying to bepatient with them. But it’s hard when I want to grab them by their ears and riptheir faces off for being in the same space as me right now.

Yesterday was the worst day. Yesterday I was in one big ballof pain and I wanted to cry and yell at people and, again, rip their faces offby tugging and twisting on their ears.

Yesterday, driving was the worst. The simple act of drivingmy car turned into an hour long ordeal of me not being comfortable, my uterusjust being one spasm after another, my legs feeling like they were beingtwisted in directions they should never twist, and my lower back stabbing me inthe kidney.

To relieve this pressure on the way home, I thought maybe Ishould cry. But that didn’t work. I couldn’t muster up any tears, really. So,it became one big whine fest. I hate whining! So I’m whining, out loud and inmy head and then out loud again and being whiny and whining and hating myself.I was so fucking whiny that I was actively hating myself. If I’d been anotherperson in the room with me listening to me I would have stared at me with allthe hate I could muster. I would have to stop doing whatever I was doing so Icould actively hate me with my entire body! That’s how bad the whining was. Itturned me into Louis C.K.

So, today I’m still full of ouch. Not as much ouch butenough ouch that I really just want to yell FUCK OFF! at nobody in particular.

Also, today, I’m going in for my pre-procedure appointmentwhere I get to ask lots of questions and find out if I can take a Xanax before Iwork myself into a huge tizzy before even getting there on the table. Because thebiopsy hurt me so damned bad that I’m not sure I can believe that doing thisprocedure isn’t going to feel that bad and make me feel all sad and violatedafter the fact.

So. Yeah. Fuck off.

old assed computer straining to keep up with my tabbed browsing needs

2011-08-28T17:16:00.000-07:00

Due to some news that I received earlier today that has mostly left me shocked and stunned and quite sad, I had some nervous type energy that needed to be used in a distractory fashion.

I cleaned and organized my garage. Finally. There's now only three-ish boxes in there for me to sort through to determine what I want to keep and what to sell or discard of.

I then put my vehicle in it.

People will never know if I'm home or not now. I'm like a ninja. A stealthy sitting in my house but you think I'm out and about ninja. Take that people who might pop by even though nobody really pops by without texting me first. But still! Hidden Blazer, Lounging Ninja!!

I've never ever used a garage before. I've always been afraid that the bugs that like to go into garages would see my vehicle sitting there and they'd think to themselves "wow, that's a nice place to hang out" and then as I drive down the road a spider or a scorpion or a cicada or any other type of bug that I've not thought of yet would pop out at the most inopportune time and I'd kill everyone around me as I try to deal with scary bugs.

I have odd concerns.

ceiling fan occasionally making a tick click type sound

2011-08-26T20:23:00.001-07:00

I'm educational.

all most all figured out

2011-08-25T10:48:00.000-07:00

This is likely just me being “too serious” or “exhausting,” but I don’t believe that Hurricane Irene has been sent to teach Washington, DC or anyone working there any sort of lesson.

Mind you, most people I see saying this are fairly religious. God is using a hurricane to teach DC a lesson.

However, it will likely be people in Puerto Rico, the Bahamas, and North Carolina that sustain the most damage. That lose the most. Not anyone in DC. So, what’s the lesson there? “Hey, DC, this could have been you!!”

Also, I’m pretty sure that this is simply hurricane season doing what hurricane season does. Which is have a hurricane or five form. And then travel along the sameish type path on the East Coast it usually does, mostly.

I feel it’s kinda rude to those that are living in the path of such a force of nature to sit around and be all smug and flippant about it while making your political jokes wrapped up in a religious blanket.

I’ve seen the damage that hurricanes can do first hand. People can lose everything.

Hell, we’ve all seen the damage that hurricanes can do thanks to Katrina. But, you shouldn’t have to see it to know that’s it a big damned deal. And it can be scary. And a lot of damage can be done.

But, you know, this is just me being exhausting, I’m sure…

too much poison come undone

2011-08-24T11:35:00.000-07:00

Some of the people I know seem to be serial daters. They say they are happy being single and things of that sort, but they are always on the dating sites and meeting new dates and going on them and moving quickly and things of that sort. Which, is fine if that is what they want to do. It just seems to cause them a lot of drama and sad, though, to me. But, again, it’s their life, not mine.

But, I recently had someone point something out to me that got me to thinking. A woman at work said “You’re confident and you’re strong and you know what you want. But you also still surround yourself with people. Of course you’re going to be disappointed. “

It seems I may be a serial friender.

When I was growing up, I had awesome friends. Awesome friends and awesome times. They were always there. They were supportive and grand and we had fun. I didn’t date a lot. I never really had any serious relationships outside of the dude I married. Except for my friends. The same friends I’d had forever and ever.

See, I’d always believed that friends were far more permanent than love. And I don’t know why I have that belief. I don’t really have any examples of love being fleeting in my day to day life growing up. My Mom and Dad don’t have a perfect relationship, who does, really, but they clearly love one another. And they loved us. And I watched all of the same Disney movies everyone else watched. But, there is. Love is fleeting, friends last. That’s in my head.

So, when I got married, I made a few friends because I knew that friends were important. But, I was also friends with my husband and we did a lot together. So, I didn’t really scramble to and fro to gather up a large amount of friends. I lost contact with my friends from home for various reasons that are now very silly. And I just had him and two local friends.

Then I found myself as a single lady. No friend living with me. I made contact with my friends from home. They were all still awesome and they are still my friends. Even today.

I was already online making friends. I was joining meetup.com groups and meeting people.

Then I found myself laid off and I packed up and moved to a place where I only knew two people. Two awesome people. But, you know, serial friender.

I started a job. I started making friends. Things were good for a bit.

I still have the two awesome people friends. I’m still working on the others. Or determining how much effort I want to continue to put forth. How hard it should be to be friends. Deciding if I want to really invest time in people that feel I’m exhausting.

Just like dating, making friends is trial and error. Some people will be hits. Some will be misses. Possibly you’ll learn something along the way.

Right now I just believe that I don’t want to have people around me that make me feel like I’m only there if they have a computer issue. Or only if I’m active on a certain online site. Or find me exhausting simply because I think about things from different angles than you. Or make me feel like I’m not really good enough as I am, even though I know that I’m accepting you as is. Or want me to trust them when they clearly don’t trust me.

I need to stop being a serial friender.

I have people. I have friends. I have family. I have people that are there for me and love me and care about me and accept me as is. They are near and they are far. But, most importantly, they are in my heart. As I am in theirs.

Just like I feel that people need to stop forcing their relationships and moving too quickly, I need to do the same in the friend realm. They’re both relationships and are very similar.

“I am green and that is beautiful and that is all I want to be."

it isn't up, it isn't down

2011-08-23T19:09:00.000-07:00

Today was a good day in the world of me. My Granny made it through her defibrillator install with flying colors and ate cake while the earthquake shook her bed. My niece found out she's gonna be an angel in the Nutcracker and was super cute and excited.

Me? Well, I went and picked up "The Green Album" after work. I wasn't sure Target would have it and I wasn't sure where to go after that to find it if they didn't for it's been a long damned time since I bought an actual CD. Like, do they have CD stores any more? Where does one go if Target doesn't have what they seek? I don't shop, clearly.

So, I'm on the phone with my sister, I walk over to the CDs, I find the compilations/soundtrack area and I see it. And I get excited. I may have jumped up a down a wee bit. Without exaggeration. Excited feet stomping, dudes. And my sister was laughing and said "This is how *insert niece name here* sounded when we received the letter!" Apparently I'm adorable and seven years old when I'm excited. Yay!

I'm now sitting here typing and listening and dancing and being a huge sap. I love those Muppets. I really do.

"I'm happy to be me!"

This may be a pointless bunch of words. I'm just excited. So there.

dreamin' i was talkin' to you

2011-08-22T12:07:00.001-07:00

Last Friday morning I was talking to a co-worker about how I felt alone and misunderstood and blah blah Andrea sure does whine sometimes.

It was a really good conversation and it actually woke me up, shook me around a bit, and made me feel much better.

I’m not alone. I may be a bit misunderstood, but I am in no means alone in this world. Far from it.

During our conversation, the whining left me and went to her and she started talking about how so and so was doing this and ain’t that against the rules and how come she can get by with it but we can’t and on and on.

The Andrea of yore woke up and piped in at that time. I used my hands and arms and drew an invisible box around myself and said “You see that? That’s as far as my concern is going. It doesn’t impact me, so why worry about it? Worry about you and what you are doing. Are you on the right path? Are you doing what you know to be right and true? Is your business in order? Then alrighty then, don’t worry about them.”

People make themselves unhappy by worrying about things that simply do not matter. I see it all the time. Hell, I was doing it myself!

But no more!

I went to my scrapbook party thinger on Friday night. It was pleasant enough. I got a lot done. The ladies all know each other, their kids all go to the same school, and they’re all entrenched in the same dramas. Which I quickly tuned out. I shook my head, I made a joke about drama in the grade school, and then tuned it right the fuck out.

So, a good time was had.

I spent a good portion of my weekend reorganizing and purging old photos from my external hard drive. I’m doing this chronologically, which should surprise nobody. It’s been really interesting for me. To see how unhappy and unattractive I was in 2006 and then to go day by day and watch the change occur. The weight come off. The unhappy escape from my eyes. My me-ness come back into play. My hair look less wrong. Seeing me take more chances and more opportunities to be myself in regards to my photography. Seeing my photography change. All of it. It’s been really good.

Anyway.

The Happiness Project is yay! Everyone could benefit from it. Yup…

the love that you had then

2011-08-19T11:59:00.001-07:00

Before I even seriously embarked on my happiness project, I’d sat down and looked at my albums, looked at my photos that were just sitting there, and I worked a bit on an album I started in 2008. And by album, I mean scrapbook.

It’s not the coolest hobby on the planet, I know. But I don’t really care about being cool. I care about doing things that make me happy and relaxed. Scrapbooking, in general, is one such thing.

I’ve always enjoyed having a book of photos to sit and look at. I love to look at others photos. So, this is just a natural fit for me. I create books of photos to look at and I get to put things in a chronological type order. Happy all around!

I very quickly ran out of supplies while I was working on this album and I thought “well, that stinks” and then forgot about it for a bit.

Then, one day I sat down and started organizing photos again and I thought “I need to do this again. Yeah.”

So, I went online and I found a scrapbooking supply selling lady that is super close to my house and I contacted her. Told her my story and that I want to get back in the groove of working on my albums.

She quickly responded and let me know that she’s having a gathering tonight.

I’m going. It’ll get me out of the house, which, apparently is a thing, and it’ll introduce me to new people and it’ll give me an active hobby again.

I don’t know how this is going to go, but at least it’s a step. It’s something that I’ve done on my own for myself that will take me out of the current routine that I have going on. Which will be nice.

I don’t really have the money for this, but I’m not going to really have the money for this for some time. I’ll make it work. I keep making things work and I’ll be able to make this work, too.

Life can be simple when we make it that way. It doesn’t have to be hard and complicated. Simple. Better. Happy.

our favorite tune

2011-08-18T10:10:00.001-07:00

I’m wearing a dress today. It’s a nice dress. It’s flowy and swishy and I look nice. So there.

I sit at my desk while I work and I chug water all day. This means I pee a lot. This is part of the weight loss plan. Allegedly, drinking water makes you feel full and you don’t get hungry as often. I call bullshit on that. I think it’s part of the weight loss plan because you have to walk to the bathroom to pee at least once an hour, and I add a trip down and back up one flight of stairs to each trip, and then to the water cooler to refill your glass and/or bottle. It adds more moving about, not a fuller feeling. Because I don’t feel full right now. I feel like I need to pee. And like I’d like to eat a slice of pie.

Anyway, when I go to pee and I’m wearing a dress or a skirt, no big deal right? I just hike it up or bunch it up and do my pee business.

Except when I wear one skirt in particular. It’s a standard black skirt. But, for some reason when I wear that skirt, the beforehand act of hiking it up so I can pull down my panties is the sexist thing in the world to me. I don’t know why. But every time I go to the bathroom on that day, I just get a slight feeling of excitement and the feeling that I’d like to be sexy with someone there. That I wish I was hiking up my skirt and pulling down my panties for someone.

It’s an odd feeling. It’s disconcerting, actually. I’m in there to pee. I’m full of pee and then boom! I’m having sexy type thoughts. During the work day. Like, eight times during the work day. Frustrating!

I don’t know why that skirt is the sexy skirt, I just know that it is. It makes my pee sexy.

But not in a golden shower type of way. Ew…

can hear your heartbeat

2011-08-17T11:31:00.003-07:00

This morning I was listening to the radio as I prepared my person for work and they did a contest where people have to answer questions in regards to current events and/or popular culture. I hear this a lot on the radio stations around here. And, inevitably, somebody will get a question or several questions wrong and the DJs will say something like “How can you not know that? Have you been living under a rock?!?!”

Yeah, no. Not living under a rock.

But, perhaps, they don’t have cable. Cable is expensive. People are cutting back. Or, perhaps they simply enjoy other pursuits of entertaining themselves than sitting and watching TV. Perhaps they read. Or go into the desert to take photographs of cool things. Or maybe they do yoga and then sit at a coffee shop and watch people. Or maybe they climb rocks or ride bikes or swim or anything else other than pay attention to what is going on in the world of popular culture and television!

The same paragraph needs to be copied and pasted in response to those people that I meet that talk about all the bars and clubs they hit all of the time who act like my life is wasted due to my not going to bars and clubs to drink and dance and things of that sort. “What do you do for fun?” they ask with a sour look on their face. Lots of stuff. I have lots of fun.

People all need to sit down and realize that we all define the word fun for ourselves. None of us are right or wrong. It’s only wrong if you’re doing things that you think others believe you should do. Do your own thing. Have your own fun. Live the life that you want and not the life that you think is going to be acceptable to people around you. Be yourself. Surround yourself with people that like you for whom you really are and not because they’re molding you like playdoh into what they think you should be. You’ll be miserable and they’ll take off never to be seen again the second you decide to be your true self.

Life is easier when you’re simply being yourself. It’s tiring to put on a show all of the time, ya know? Trying to please everyone around. Work on pleasing yourself. Work on being happy for you and others will come along for the ride. They really will.

Look over there, a quick topic change!

Last night, I sat down with more photos and did more organizing and I ran across a photo of myself from June of 2007 that I have always been quite fond of:

I was happy to see that photo again. I’d forgotten about it, actually. But it’s a good one. I look happy. I like that.

So, this morning I looked back through my albums to try to find a good example of me looking unattractive to show the people on Google+ that got to hear my whining and I was unable to find any. I was looking at the photos with a different attitude, from a different place, and I didn’t see the unattractive, unhappy woman that I saw just a few days earlier. Instead, I saw a woman who had some unfortunate hairstyles, but was doing OK anyway.

Or maybe I was still a wee bit drunk from National Rum Day. Either works…

eddie vedder singing yellow ledbetter, something about a box or a bag...

2011-08-16T09:24:00.000-07:00

Last night I sat down in my hobby room and started organizing more stuff. I filed all of the papers that were on top of my filing cabinet. I purged some files of documents that are older than seven years old. I sat and smiled at my progress. Then, I turned my attention to my scrapbooking table.

Oh, yes. You’re still there aren’t you?

So, I sat down and I forced myself to finally complete the twelve year anniversary portion of that vacation album that’s been sitting there mocking me. I only had three little pages to do. A total of eight photos. But I’d put it off and put it off and here it is a number of years later and it is finally complete! That was a good feeling. Finishing that project.

Then, I sat down and looked at my old albums. And what I saw was quite troublesome to my brain.

For a great number of years I was not very attractive at all. Which, I think may mean I just wasn’t happy for a great number of years.

My clothes were lame. My hair was horrid. I had put on weight. I looked terrible and awful.

I found myself wondering what sort of people I’ve got hanging around me. People that tell me that I’m pretty and whatnots like that. Buncha liar faces.

But then, I got to the 2007ish area of my life and I start to see a change in my appearance. I’m beginning to look more like the me I used to be. But without the perm. And then I had that realization that happiness really does make you look better.

I’m going to forget being sad over the years I spent unhappily. I didn’t know at the time that I was unhappy so why mourn now just because I’m aware of that truth now, ya know? Instead, I’ll just be happy that I did realize it and I did make changes and how awesome that is for me.

And I’m going to forget being upset over the time I spent being unattractive. Those days are behind me. Yeah? I think. I dunno. We know how I feel about my face and my looks in general. I’m more accepting of thinking the positive about all of that now than I have been. So, let’s focus on that.

I really like this organizing stage I’m in. I think it’s putting my brain back in order, too. Life and brain in alignment. Yup.

And, to end this on a positive note, here is a photo that I took and I didn’t edit and I’m thinking “Yeah, OK…this is not the woman from 2004 with bad hair and unhappy eyes. This woman dances in her car on the way to work. People like her…I like her, too.”

i am green and it'll do fine

2011-08-15T12:58:00.000-07:00

"No, she really just wanted his company. She wanted to hear him say that he liked her for who she was. That she was someone special in his world and in his life." ~ The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

Once I finally got into that book, I breezed through it. But that line stood out. It yelled at me and said "Hi. Does this sound familiar?"

I photocopied that page and highlighted that passage. I found it while I was cleaning my bedroom yesterday. Tackling the whole "organize your space for maximum happiness" thing.

I love my happiness project so far. I'm working on the first step, which is to be more energetic. I'm going to continue to walk in the mornings, take the stairs at work, not flop down on my couch when I get home, keep things organized and in place at the house, not let clutter build up, tackle tasks as they pop up and not put them off. Yesterday was my bedroom and bathroom areas.

I felt happy, productive, and like I'd accomplished something when I could see the top of the dogs' crates and my computer desk.

I've used my camera more recently. That's happy.

I'm listening to this all day. If you can't sit and listen to that over and over and be happy, then I may not really want to know you.

The next step in the happiness project is to stop expecting thanks, acknowledgement and gratitude. To realize that you are making the choice to do the things that you do and that should be all you need. The knowledge that you are doing things for yourself because it is what you want to do. If others notice and say thanks, well that's just grand. But you have to stop expecting it.

I've already been working on that one. I already know that everything is a choice. A choice that I make for myself. And that's not selfish to realize, either. It just means that your feelings don't get hurt when people don't notice the things that you do and it means that others still want to be around you because you're not nagging them to pay attention to what you've done or to help you do what you've chosen to do. Both, of which, leads to more happy!

Now, I know that I'm not going to always be happy and shiny all the time. I'm not a happy and shiny all of the time type of person. I like "The Walking Dead" series. That shit is bleak and relentless and hard and depressing. And I eat it up with a damned spoon! My favorite type of movie is stuff like "Seven." Or "The Crow." I love Batman. He's my favorite. Why? Because he's a human being without any special powers. He's a human being with pain and darkness inside that wants to do good. But his efforts may be a bit misguided. And he hangs out with really smart people. And in caves.

So, yeah. I'm not a sunshine and daisies all the time girl. But, I do want to be able to be more sunshiney and daisy like on a more regular basis. I want it to be more of a natural thing for me. To not be bogged down with just routine crap. I can handle routine. I can keep things organized and I can accept that the only person that really, truly cares about the things that I do is me.

I guess I'm just realizing, in a very adult like manner, that even though I have people around me that love me and are willing to help me when they are able and they can...I'm the one I have to depend on the most. I'm the one that I should turn to when I need reassurance and things of that sort. If I can take care of myself that easily, then I can handle anything that comes my way.

Yeah. I can.

I'm all strong and shiny and stuff...

hang out on clouds

2011-08-12T10:44:00.001-07:00

The other day my monthly bill for what I owe the IRS came in and I really sat down and gave it a good look. They are charging me more in fees and interest than what I am currently sending them as payment. So, instead of going down even a dollar or two each month, it’s going up about twenty of them. Of the dollars. Which is sad. But, I’m doing what I can. I’m doing all I can, the best I can, all I can do.

Today is pay day. I received my pay stub yesterday and I sat down last night and paid bills. I was not as happy and shiny afterwards as I had hoped. Again, I’m doing what I can, all I can, the best I can. Some months my budget is in my favor, other months it is not. This is just not one of those months. But, at least I can see on paper what my plan is. Where my money is going. All of that.

But, I let myself get bummed out last night. But only for a few minutes. I didn’t even cry. I just got a wee bit surly and was emo on Facebook and then I looked at my stack of books.

Thanks to my beautiful friend, Sarah, I have a book to read to keep me focused. The Happiness Project.

I’ve only read the introduction, which explains why the author embarked on her own Happiness Project and I believe the gist is a whole lot of stuff that I already know. But, it’s good to have a reminder staring me in the face.

Basically, determine who you are. What you want. What makes you happy. What happy means to you, personally. And then make sure you do at least one thing each and every day that makes you happy. No matter what that one thing is.

It was just the jump start I needed to not wallow in my budget woes.

Today, on my way to work, “Jungle Love” came on the radio. You know what I did? Yeah, you do. I turned that fucker up and I sang and I danced and I smiled and I enjoyed those 3 minutes and 17 seconds. I didn’t care if any of the people in the cars saw me or not. I didn’t care if they were going to talk about the weird lady dancing in her car this morning. I only cared that this was a good damned time.

The happy has stayed with me thus far, too. Every song that is coming on Pandora is a good one. I’ve got my camera with me in the event I decide to attend some unicorn art thinger tonight. I may hit up a cheap happy hour with my girls. I wore a cute ensemble. I was told that the main boss person thinks I’m doing a swell job. I’m going to eat a cheeseburger and sweet potato fries.

Happiness doesn’t have to be big things. Happiness usually doesn’t come from others. You provide your own happy. You make moments and you embrace them and you carry them with you.

And that is just after reading the introduction. I may become super annoying as I work on this project, but dammit, I’ve got things to be happy about. My budget does not have to rule the school.

I rule the school. Now you know.

done! done! on to the next one!!

2011-08-11T10:21:00.001-07:00

So, my new lady parts doctor prescribed me Lysteda to take during my period before we can do the scope and scrape procedure next month. To be quite honest, I wasn’t so sure it was really going to help me.

I am now going to be quite frank about things in order to explain how very happy, pleased, and in awe I am of this medication after taking it during one period. If you don’t want to read about periods, go away. You’ve been warned.

For the last I can’t even remember how many months any longer I’ve been having periods that are 11 days in length and the bleeding each month was getting progressively worse. One month, I quite honestly thought I should go to the hospital based on the amount of blood I lost in a 20 minute period of time. It was that bad.

I’ve talked to four different doctors about this. One said “It’s likely endometriosis” and left the room never to be seen again. One offered me hormonal treatments that I already knew would not work. One did a uterine biopsy, which was a step in the right direction, and talked about “waiting and seeing.” So, I went to this fourth and final doctor. She looked at my records from the third doctor, she told me my options as far as procedures to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with and then asked about hormonal treatments. Once I explained what I’d already been through with that for the past four years she said “Has anyone mentioned Lysteda?”

No. Hell no. Nobody thought to mention that option to me. Let’s just have Andrea almost bleed out month after month and feel all weak, lethargic, and look like hell for a week after before she then has to have PMS and then more bleeding.

So, she tells me about Lysteda, gave me a sample, a coupon, and an Rx for it and says “this will give you some relief before we can get you in here for the procedure.”

I started my period last Thursday. A week ago today. However, I stopped bleeding for real on Monday and only had light spotting on Tuesday.

Yes. It worked. I didn’t have the super heavy bleeding for more than a day and half. It did intensify my cramps and Saturday was quite ouch. But I’ll take that. I’ll take worse cramps for a day over cramps, heavy bleeding, and feeling dead for ELEVEN days.

Five days!! FIVE DAYS! Which, I know for most women is about average and I’m here having a party. It’s just been so very long since I’ve had a normal period that I want to hug my doctor when I go see her for the pre-procedure appointment next month. Big hug. Big happy energetic hug for finally being the person that gave me some relief!

So, I’m sharing all of this in case anyone is reading this or stumbles across this page and is having the same experience. I want people to know these things so they can go to the doctors and have info and be armed and take control of their bodies and their health. I just don’t want anyone to go through what I was if they don’t have to.

silence

2011-08-10T06:16:00.001-07:00

I was looking at myself in the mirror yesterday before I left for work and I was thinking "I'm not so bad to look at, right? And I don't look disheveled at all. Why am I always joking about how disheveled I am? I'm quite silly."

To prove how silly I am, I decided, as a silly person does, to take photos of myself at least three times during the day to see if I can pinpoint where the disheveling takes place. And to prove to those that don't see me first thing in the morning that I really do brush the hair!

So, this is photo one, which I'll call:

Stage One: I Totally Brush My Hair

So, that's me right after I shower and put on a wee bit of makeup, blow the hair dry, brush it and spray it a wee bit. Looks good, yeah? I'm nice and presentable and should totally be seen in public. I don't feel like I look out of place in the fancy schmancy places I have lunch sometimes looking like that chick in the Stage One photo. She's pretty and has her act together.

But then something or a series of things happens between the drive to work and the noon hour that sorta deflates the hair, puts a look of weariness in the eyes and makes the hair start to show the beginning stages of disheveledment. This stage shall be called...

Stage Two: "Titties"

I'm still slightly presentable, yes, but you can see the hint of things to come. You can see the effects of the day weighing my hair down. It's starting to look a bit frayed here and there. I can still go to the fancy lunch place, but people may not openly accept my presence. I look as if I may need a nap. Or less gong.

I was actually surprised to see that the "Titties" stage didn't look too bad.

However, between noon and my drive home something horrible happens. Stage Three.

Stage Three: The Courtney Love

This photo explains why those dudes were staring at me last Friday night at the fancy happy hour I went to. They thought Courtney Love was sitting at a table of fancy people sipping on some sweet tea being reasonable. They perhaps wondered how long I'd been in rehab and when my hair may begin to show the effects of my new tea sipping life style. Then they likely discussed coming over to get my autograph or start up a conversation to try to determine how lucid I actually am. Then they realized that I wasn't, in fact, Courtney Love. That I'm just some poor disheveled lady that never brushes her hair.

I work in an office. Why my hair looks as if I'm a stunt double for the WWE or some rolly around in the bed type softly lit soft porn type movie is a mystery to me. I sit at a desk, I email people, I take phone calls, I install software, I drink water, I pee a lot.

Have we been too harsh on Courtney Love? Is she, perhaps, just working in an office as a side job?

So, yeah. I guess what I've learned from this is that while I may be a natural type of quasi attractive and I don't need to do a whole lot to initially look good, my real natural state of being is to look like a crackhead. Maybe it's a natural defense that my body and hair have evolved over time to ensure I'm not approached by douchebags.

Yeah. My hair is a douchebag deterrent.

So. Now you know a bit more about my hair. Riveting, I know...

you and me okay

2011-08-05T15:06:00.002-07:00

I believe that I have finally come to the conclusion that I need to respect my own feelings as much I do the feelings of others.

I deserve that, yeah? I deserve as much care, concern, and respect as I show those that I care about.

You're damn right I do.

So I am.

So there.

i feel stupid

2011-08-04T09:37:00.000-07:00

"And I don't think you meant it when you said you couldn't love me"

I'm an overly emotional, confused person at this moment. Which is being made worse by the fact that I have a set in stone date for my scope and scrape that I'm scared of and there you go.

My period started this morning. I'm taking the blood thickening medication. One thus far. It's made me feel relaxed and groovy.

Relaxed and groovy is nice.

My beagle is nine now.

I've been having a discussion on Google+ with a friend of mine that I've found to be sorta interesting. She started the conversation with her status talking about her online identity and how she wanted to be able to remain anonymous and not have her real world identify tied to everything and anything and that she has safe spots that she feels safe and free and how disconcerting it is to have random people in your real life reference those safe spots.

Man. It's like she was me for that. I've been dealing with that whole thing. I still don't want most of the people in my real life to know about my blog or my Flickr accounts. This space and that space are where I feel safe to say what is on my mind. Release the words and feelings and be vulnerable in spots that are safe. To know that I may be at the mall back home and run into some random person from there and they may make reference to something does not make me happy.

I choose who gets to know these places. And I'm fully happy and OK with strangers finding them. Otherwise, I'd not have these places.

And those that are now part of my "real world life" that know of these places doesn't bother me, either. I kinda like to think that some people use them as a way to keep up with me. To watch me from afar. Like a fairy god person or something. I dunno. More of my romantic nature coming out, I guess.

But what we both realized in our talking is how much more accepting of all our true selves the friends we've made online are. None of my online friends, whether I've met them in person and can hug them and hang out or not, have ever pointed out my overly sensitive nature as being a negative. They accept me. They know more about me, they make me feel safer, and they make me feel like I really can just go forth into the world and simply be me.

But the people I've met out here, in the real world space, don't. Some of them do, sure. But some of them, nope. I've even had one person tell me I'm too exhausting and I'm too sensitive and really pull away from the friendship we had. Which, I'm now ok with. I've come to terms with it. Not everyone is equipped to deal with someone like me, I guess.

Which, really? Someone like me? I say that like there's something wrong with me. And there's not. I don't believe.

Not in this moment.

Though I have wondered a few times this week if I'm that crazy psycho girl that makes up bigger, more important relationships in her mind than what is actually happening. Like, maybe I'm living in a fantasy world.

I dunno.

PMS + me being confused = over analysis and dumb conclusions.

Anyway, I just thought it was interesting. My quasi-revelation about how accepting my friends are of me. The online ones versus the real life ones.

But now I'm thinking I'm not giving the offline ones enough credit. I don't give myself enough credit. I'm likely doing the same to them.

I should stop typing...

why that means you and i are

2011-08-03T08:43:00.003-07:00

I'm a bit tired at the moment of people making decisions for me. They may not feel that is what they are doing, but that's how it feels to me.

You don't get to be a part of my life simply because you want to be. It's up to me.

And, you don't get to choose to not be a part of my life for my sake. That's also up to me.

If you want to not be a part of my life because you don't like me or I'm not nice or I'm unhealthy for you or I poke you with sticks or whatever, that's grand. You can make that decision for you. I can't stop you.

But if you're making a decision to not be around me for me? Ugh.

I can make my own decisions. I can decide who to let in and who to not let in and that's all up to me.

I should be able to make my own decisions as to who gets to be in my life and in what ways. It is my life after all.

That song in that video? How fucking sad is that?!?!? Those lyrics, man. Fuckin' songwriters.

Oh, well.

kill me again with love

2011-08-02T10:55:00.000-07:00

I went to see an early screening of “The Change Up” last night. I’m glad I didn’t pay to see it. It’s unoriginal, clichéd, and all of that. Jason Bateman did an excellent job, however, of being Ryan Reynolds. That stood out.

Other than that? I just sat there and tried to escape the thoughts in my head for a nice two hour span and instead I sat there thinking of various people in my life and how this movie was sorta helping me make sense of what they are going through.

Yup. That’s just what I do. Everything can be related to me in some way. The world, clearly, revolves around me.

Except it totally doesn’t.

And I say that I know this and I say that I’m fine with that and then as soon as certain things occur that make it painfully clear that, no, the world does not revolve around me at all, I don’t know what to think.

I’m not very awesome. Despite a lot of people saying otherwise.

I feel like this is the first time I’ve been in this place, but I think I’m wrong. I’m in a place where I’m questioning my very existence. Like, what purpose am I serving myself? What purpose am I serving those around me? Why am I here? What am I doing? What should I be doing? Am I spreading more sad than good? Am I just filler?

I can’t come up with anything. Which then leads me to think “Should I even exist?”

Not in an “I should just kill myself and be done with it” type of way. Just more of a “What am I doing with my life?!?” way.

But, I don’t know what to do with myself. I just know that I kinda sorta feel like I’m a waste of space. I’m a disposable sitcom in the journey of other people’s lives.

I’m a foolish, romantic girl with love in her heart. Love that is not able to be given. And I don’t know how to make it go away. How to tell my heart that now is not the time. Now is the time to just pump blood through my body. Time to keep me alive and be a technical organ. Not a symbol of my fairy princessy nature.

I like to read. I like to photograph. I like to be with my friends. I like to spend quiet time alone. I like to drive on sunny days. I like to stop and recognize that I’m surrounded with beauty. I like to notice small moments of love and kindness that have been shown to me. I like making others laugh. I like the simple pleasures in life.

Does this make me dull and unalive? Does it make me a sad little person, the fact that I enjoy laying on my couch in silence with a book and two dogs by my side?

Or am I fully functional and well adjusted for knowing what I like and then simply doing that?

I don’t know these answers. I wish I did.

I wish I wasn’t confused. I know things aren’t black and white, but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish they were. Sometimes the grey area catches me and keeps me and I get stuck and mired down.

And now my scope and scrape appointment has been set. I’m already feeling anxious and scared about that. I’m alone. I don’t have that person that I would want to have with me the night before to tell me how brave and strong I am. To hug me and tell me it’s gonna be great. To alleviate my nervousness and fear the next morning.

I do have an awesome friend that loves me who will be there after the fact. Which is perfect.

I have a lot of love around me. I want to focus on that.

I want to try to be better for my people. They deserve that.

sister on speaker phone

2011-07-27T19:58:00.000-07:00

I'm a strange looking girl. And I'm wrinkley.

I'm just gonna be ok with this.

Tomorrow night I'm going to bake a cake and then Friday morning I'm going to put party hats on my dogs and on me and I'm gonna eat cake for breakfast.

Birthday week is continuing on in a nice Birthday Week type fashion.

but there's nothing there

2011-07-26T08:43:00.000-07:00

I dislike those moments in life where something super nice happens to you and you have that short, fleeting moment where you wish it had been done by someone different or something really assholish like that. It doesn’t mean you don’t still think that the thing was really super nice and appreciate it greatly, it just kinda means you have that one area of your life that is unsettled and yeah. I don’t like having those areas of my life that are unsettled. And I don’t enjoy feeling like I’m an asshole simply because I have hopes.

So, I won’t.

Except I went to bed feeling unsettled and then I had super realistic and scary dreams about zombies. The type of super realistic and scary dream where you hear something in the dream that wakes you up but you think you actually heard it in your house and you’re so afraid that you are actually surrounded by zombies that you will not open your eyes even though if you did open your eyes you’d see that you are not, in fact, surrounded by zombies and you’d be able to sleep soundly and peacefully for the rest of the night.

So, after that type of night, it was really super fantastic to wake up to see my ‘berry flashing its lovely red light at me. The first new message I see? My super awesome Blurb book that I created during hours and hours of obsessive creativeness has been shipped! I’ll have it in my hands very soon and I can flip through actual pages and be all “yay! I made this.” I hope it lives up to my hype.

Then, the other messages were a bunch of Facebook notifications from people who have decided to come along on Andrea’s Thirty-Ninth Birthday Week of Sillyness ride.

Sidenote: It is also Andrea’s Thirty-Ninth Birthday Week of Mexican Food, too. There’s a lot of themes going on here. I’m totally allowed to do this. Don’t hate.

So, I was touched and made happy that people have gone out of their way, even for a few moments, to do these things. Wish me a Happy Birthday Monday. And then Tuesday. To put not-so-anonymous anonymous cards in the mail. Talk about cake. Take me to a burger joint when they don’t even like burgers. Put awesome Happy Birthday YouTube videos on my wall. Etc. and so forth.

I went on my morning walk and was, again, plagued with thoughts of “Why do people do such nice and silly things for me? I really am not that grand. I’m an asshole. Look back at the first paragraph for fuck’s sake.”

I have this thought from time to time anytime people go out of their way to be super awesome and kind to me.

Then it finally hit me.

They are not doing these things because I am awesome. This is because they are. They are all awesome.

I’ve been lucky enough to have great and awesome people around me and I love it. I love them. All of them. I’m a sap and I’m just really super happy and honored and I’m going to try to focus on all of this right now.

And? I’m going to work on changing the lyrics to “1999” to fit the “Tonight we’re gonna party like Andrea’s thirty-nine” theme that popped into my head this morning as I drove to work and thought about silliness.

Andrea’s Thirty-Ninth Birthday Week of Silliness is going swimmingly. Thank you.

that made me quiver

2011-07-22T09:59:00.001-07:00

I get to have a camera inserted into my uterus through my cervix and then everything scraped out and sent off to be poked and prodded and tested! Go me!

I also get to take a new pill that will ensure I don’t almost bleed out for one more month. FINALLY. It’s been exhausting these past few months. Seriously. Bleeding that heavily for eleven days is a lot of work. When it’s all over I’m all lightheaded and fatigued and I have dark circles under my eyes and all I want to do is eat a big bloody steak or a nice, juicy cheeseburger. My period has turned me into a vampire. Thank god it’s not the sparkly variety vampire. I’ve got enough to deal with.

My new doctor said “Has anyone ever told you about this medication that isn’t hormonal that will help with that?” This is why I already like my new doctor. She listened and she had a conversation with me and she talked about options and the now and what we may do in the future if need be and blah blah blah. So, no more fatigued, non-sparkley Andrea that needs blood and iron and meat now! Hopefully. I’m assuming the med will work. Positive thinking and all of that.

Anyway. Talking and listening. It works. Put that on an inspirational poster and call it my PSA for the day.

That was topic one. Now off to topic two. For those wondering how many topics I’m going to cover, I’ll disclose that when I started typing I had three. Three topics to cover. Who knows if my mind and fingers will stick to that agenda. Let’s find out..

Topic two: Being poor.

I complain about my budget and I’ve made cuts and I don’t have cable and I’m working with the medical bill people and the tax people and they’re all very nice and accommodating and I’m not eating out for lunch and dinner so much and I buy LivingSocial and Groupons to save money on fun stuff I want to be able to do, because I want to be able to still do fun stuff. I’ve got my wedding set in my purse to take to a pawn shop to find out how much I can get out of that. I’m tracking my money and things are good. Going good.

Every so often, though, I get the bummed out emo bug and I whine about how poor I am. Inevitably someone will say “Get a roommate!”

No.

Yeah, it would be nice to not have to watch my money so very closely. But, the way I’m looking at it right now through not bummed out emo bug eyes is that this is a learning, growing, being a more mature Andrea experience that will help me in the future.

And? I like to be without pants and walk around in a towel and sing and talk to myself and other things that having a random roommate would more likely dampen. My home is my cave. My home is where I can relax and do nothing or do everything or cry or sing or do kitchen ballet and these are not things that I’m doing with a roomie and if I have roomie I’ll be stifled and I DO NOT WANT TO EVER BE STIFLED AGAIN.

Does this mean I’ll never share my space with another human being again? No, not at all. I did all of those things while I was married for a bit. During the happy times. The non-stifled times. The “we are partners and we like each other” stage. I can do that again. I want to do that again! But with someone who isn’t my person, my happy, safe spot? Not a chance. I’ll only share my cave with my partner person.

So, no roomie. I’ve thought about it and I’ve made the decision that having my own space is way more important than traveling, going to every show I want to, going out to eat, buying new clothes, etc. A choice. Because I know what is important to me and I’m not in a position to have to compromise or really sacrifice. Yay!

And that brings me to topic three: My birthday!!

I’ve entered the time where I do the countdown. Not every day in all places, of course. But my GTalk status is a daily countdown. Facebook gets the weekly countdown. My profile photo is me in a party hat.

People are giving me a hard time. “So, you have a birthday coming up, huh? I had no idea.”

I know people think I’m silly. I know some people likely think I’m just a huge attention whore and roll their eyes at me.

Growing up, birthdays were a big deal. We didn’t have a lot of the money growing up and we didn’t do a lot of extras in my family. Cake was only for birthdays. Cookies and fudge were only made during Christmas. So that type of stuff is special. It’s not the mundane everyday thing that we all take for granted. And I love that!

I remember having a Big Bird cake. I had pool parties. I had parties at our house. I had parties at the park. I had a Holly Hobby cake.

I remember my sister’s birthday parties. With friends and family and fun games and fun themed cakes.

I remember us making our parents cakes or large cookies with terribly drawn decorations on them.

Birthdays were a big deal. And I loved that. I still do.

I get up, I go to work, I take care of my bills and my finances and my dogs and my health and my car and my yard and a lot of life is mundane and routine.

My birthday doesn’t have to be. And I don’t want it to be fun and silly just for my sake. I enjoy having that opportunity for my friends to be silly and have fun. People that wouldn’t otherwise dress in a silly prom dress to go bowling. People who wouldn’t necessarily go to a ridiculously themed pool party at their friend’s Mom’s house.

I don’t expect these things to be done for me. I take charge. It’s my birthday, afterall. I’m the one that wants to make it a big silly spectacle. The fact that my friends come along for the ride and ask me what they can do to help is just extra awesome. I love that I know people that are willing to be silly with me. Willing to be silly for themselves! It makes my heart happy.

I don’t even expect presents. I really only expect people to show up and let go and just have some fun. Ya know? Life needs to be more silly and fun at any chance we have.

So this is why I make a big deal out of my birthday. This is why I’m so happy when those around me decide to join in. Not so much because I’m superficial or wanting stuff and things done for me. But because people are getting caught up in silliness and fun. I benefit from it, of course, but I also really hope that they do, too. That they have as much fun as I do.

Added topic four: I suck at other people’s birthdays

I’m horrible at buying people presents. Maybe because I don’t care about stuff? I dunno. I just know I suck at presents.

What I am good at is remember birthdays and asking that person that I would like to do something for what it is they would want to do for their birthday. Because not everyone would be comfortable with the level of spectacle that I have for mine. Above everything else, I want my friends to be comfortable. Their birthday is about them. What they want to do, I want to do that. I want to do what will make my friends happy.

I’ve made ridiculous videos for people. I’ve had low key lunches and a movie. I’ve had a party at my house with decorations and pot luck style food stuffs. I’ve bombarded people via every social media / technology in place with happy birthday wishes. Etc. and so forth.

Sometimes, though, given the spectacle of my birthday, I feel that what I do for others isn’t enough. So, I, again, just hope that those I love and appreciate know it and feel it. And if they want a bigger deal, they speak up when the question is raised “What would you like for us to do for your birthday!”

Topic Five: The 80s

This song just came on Pandora. It made me think of summertime in the 80s. I like thinking of summertime in the 80s.

That is all.

the silence surrounds you and hunts you

2011-07-21T11:11:00.000-07:00

I have my first appointment with my new lady parts doctor today. This afternoon. I usually like to have my appointments in the morning so I don’t have to fret and think about things all day. But, this doctor is in high demand, apparently, and I took what they could give me. They’re bringing me in two weeks earlier than originally scheduled. Thanks to dramatics.

Apparently, without my knowledge or consent, I am fretting about this appointment.

I only realized this once I realized how twitchy I feel. And how things that I usually easily ignore are big huge deals and rubbing me the wrong way and making me want to run away from all the noise and things that come in an office setting.

I realized it further when I realized I all of a sudden wanted to email a few people and say “Look here, you!” and then let them know how they suck.

Sometimes people suck.

I’m a person. I suck sometimes. I’m aware of this. And I’m sorry about it. Nothing I can do. It’s part of that whole “I’m a person” thing I have going on.

But, underneath the twitchy and the wanting to expel energy in negative ways thing is logical Andrea saying “Um…none of those words are really worth saying. You know this. Settle down.”

I’m trying to settle.

But I’m hungry and I’m twitchy and I’m sad.

Sad for things that I’ll never have that I don’t even still really know that I want but now that decision is out of my hands. I haven’t been told this, but I know it. I really do. I just fucking know it and it stinks. I’m coming to terms with it. I’m old anyway. Old and single and poor. Not the best recipe for having certain things anyway.

I’m sad about the unknown. And my perception of those unknowns.

Sad that people have completely broken my trust.

Just really sad.

Illogically sad.

Of course this will pass. It’s just my anxiety over my appointment.

The sad will pass…

look a fool for thinking you

2011-07-18T09:02:00.001-07:00

The more social media thingers I sign up for, the less I have to say. We all likely need less of what I have to say anyway.

I have the mystery grouchies at the moment. It’s more like the mystery just heres. I’m not sad or angry or grouchy or irritable or hungry or sleepy or anything tangible that I can put my finger on. I’m just kinda here. Neutral. Most people may not even notice. My sister did. Just by listening to me for 15 seconds on Saturday. “What’s wrong?” she says.

“I don’t know” said I.

I get that way sometimes.

She gets it. She knows this mood and so she said “OK, well, I love you and I’m going to let you go.” Which is, usually, the best thing.

I think these periods of time are usually when I’m sorting through stuff without even realizing it.

Or maybe these periods of time just reflect that I’m an asshole that isn’t that sociable or nice.

I dunno.

The melancholy will pass. And maybe I’ll emerge on the other side with more clarity and feel just a wee bit wiser.

snoring beagle, sleeping silently golden

2011-07-13T21:40:00.000-07:00

When I start thinking about whiny, unimportant crap, I need to just look at this and remember that the world is way bigger than any thing I may think is worth complaining about, being angry about, being sad about, fretting about, or thinking is insurmountable.

It's not.

I'm not going to go all inspirational special episode of Blossom on you here because I'd not be able to type due to eye sprain from extreme rolling of them. I just know that I like myself a wee bit better during my morning walk when I'm focusing on all of the positives and enjoying how small I am in this world and how vast and large and lovely it is. My "problems" don't seem like any big deal at all during my walk. Because they're not.

But then I go to work and the stress of all that I have to do piles on and I spend time calling around to various places I owe money to set up payment plans and then I come home to see how all of that jives with my budget and then I see Google+ suggesting people to add to my circles that just make me sad for various reasons and then I want to work on my Ireland book but I don't really have enough time to really get any progress made and then I realize how tired I am and then I turn into a big whiny mess of a person that is complaining about the most unimportant things imaginable!

So, I'm glad I took a photo of the world during my morning walk. To remind me to be positive, keep things in perspective, and to live in the moment. Not yesterday, not 10 minutes from now, not next week. Now. This one. And this moment has calmed me down and I can likely go to bed and not have nightmares about my ex-husband showing up to take my Bubba Bear away from me.

Stress and hot dogs too late in the evening do not lead to the good dreams. Remember that.

i'm in another world

2011-07-08T19:36:00.001-07:00

storm, a photo by daniel_bryant on Flickr.

So, we had a haboob. And I really just wanted to say haboob one more time.

I have haboob on my house. I have haboob on my car.

I like the word haboob.

Yo momma is a haboob!!!

Anyway. Yeah. We had a haboob. But, I didn't see it. Sure, I heard all of the wind and whatnots but I didn't give it any thought. I'm used to hearing wind in the summer here already. I'm used to it blowing up dust and it looking like it may rain and then only getting five rain drops. So I heard wind, I ignored it.

The next day? Haboob was all over my house and car and the air still felt gritty and I was all, "What the fuck? Is this the apocalypse? Do I need my zombie survival kit to go on this walk?"

I went on my walk. I still just thought "eh, a dust storm."

Apparently I said "meh" to the largest storm in some large number of years.

See, I'm working on a project! Andrea's mind is occupied and she is in the zone, babies. The zone!

I'm finally making a book about my Ireland vacation. A Blurb book. And it is going to be amazing. I'm so damned impressed. And mind occupied. And happy! I love it.

And? I'm in full on Andrea's Birthday Party Extravaganza planning mode.

So, yeah. Haboob didn't get my attention.

I love July. My uterus can kiss my ass for a bit. My liver can forgive me for all of the ibuprofen I'll be pumping through it for a bit, too. Because it is July and I am in birthday happy mode and I now know of the word haboob and I'm losing weight and life is merry because it is July.

I like having a happy brain. I like being focused on stuff that makes me happy.

I like that moment when I leave my office building at the end of the day and it's been all chilly air conditioned and I open the door and the warm July air hits me and envelops me with a happy warm hug. That's my favorite moment of the day.

I like that I've been quite dancey this week. Dancey in the car. Dancey at Lo Lo's Chicken and Waffles. Dancey in my house. Dancey at my desk. I feel dancey.

I like that I'm feeling so calm and happy.

I love July.

so much for losing track of time

2011-07-07T09:08:00.001-07:00

So, this “waiting and seeing” thing that my current gyno’s office wants to do is NOT working out for me. My period just started this morning and I’m already in so much pain that it hurts to stand, sit, sneeze, cough, talk, type, move, walk and generally just be alive.

I have an appointment with an office that has bad reviews for next Tuesday. That’s not making me a happy camper.

I have an appointment with an office that was suggested to me by my general practitioner. She’s the one that recommended my therapist and my dentist. I love both of them. So, I trust my GP’s recommendations. But, that doctor is booked until August 4^th.

I just left a message with that doctor’s assistant where I actually, beyond my control, broke down into tears while asking to be seen sooner and said “I just want somebody to help me.”

I don’t know if I’m just a gigantic baby or if my pain is really that bad and I’m downplaying it, but I really do feel like a huge baby right now. Even though my legs are aching and it hurts me to simply sit here. I’m sitting down!! Sitting down should be the happy place!!

I don’t know how my sister has dealt with all of her issues for all of these years. I mean, I’m not NOT dealing with these issues, but I’m just far too impatient for all of this. I have an issue. The issue has, allegedly, been identified. There should be a solution that works and can be done and I can move on. I don’t know why this isn’t happening. I just know that I don’t have to be in this pain and deal with this month after month. I don’t. Things can be done. And I’ll go through all of my money and time to make it happen.

This is going to be a long day.

UPDATE: Apparently unplanned crying while saying something as dramatic as "I just want somebody to help me." will get you a call back and an earlier appointment to see the doctor you really want to see. So, there's that.

Stupid dramatic uterus being dramatic.

Somebody told me that "this will be completely behind you in a few days." Man, I wish that person had been right.

when i lost my motivation

2011-07-03T08:11:00.006-07:00

Last night I was driving home from my awesome day of photo fun time in Jerome, swimmy pool time, and Lo Lo's fried chicken time and jamming out to two different radio stations that are doing that whole "It's a three day weekend so let's do a rewind weekend theme!" that seems to be a 90s theme.

I was jammin' out in a quiet storm type fashion to some PM Dawn then I switched over to the other station and "3 Strange Days" came on.

That song immediately made me want to remind the entire world that this exists:

I'm thinking about using that as a check in on people. A Rick Roll of "Hey, friend! What's up!?!" and people will be merry.

Or they may stop opening my emails and block me from their Facebook walls. I can see that happening, too.

your defenses seem wise

2011-07-01T16:31:00.001-07:00

This morning on my walk I spotted a bunny, so I slowed my pace to not startle it and to maybe even try to take a photo of it It’s what we do now, right? See something in the world, pull out the phone and snap a photo? So, that was my plan. But, the bunny caught wind of my plan and ran ahead of me a bit.

As I continued along the path, I saw that it had run into a road runner and stopped. They were just sitting, looking at each other.

Then they spotted me coming close and the bunny ran again and then stopped to hide. This bunny cleverly camouflaged itself with the cunning use of sitting very, very still in front of a bush. I let him think it worked.

Road runners, apparently, are very shy creatures. This guy just slowly walked behind a bush and as I moved, he’d circle the bush to remain out of sight.

I casually looked around for a coyote or an ACME boulder and then I let the critters be.

Later this morning, I went to my lady parts doctor for the followup transvaginal ultrasound fun time. I could totally tell by her clicking and looking in one particular area more than the rest of the areas that the entity is still in my uterus.

SUPER FUCKING DUPER!

I had made the choice in my life to not grow a person in there. I do not feel that my uterus has the authority to overrule that decision. I’m not surprised that it has. I’m a stubborn assed woman so it seems fitting that my uterus would be stubborn as well.

This entity was diagnosed as non-cancerous. It was more diagnosed as an infection.

Which is quite ew if you ask me. I immediately felt like a dirty skank. Except I’m fairly certain there is a lot more sex going on with dirty skanks. There’s none of that going on with Andrea. Andrea is without sex .

The doctor was all “This isn’t gross. Bacteria gets introduced to our bodies and we get infections. Big whoop.” BIG WHOOP?!?

This big whoop is making me bleed for eleven days at a time, feel anemic, ruining all of my panties, making me use one set of sheets for those days so I don’t ruin all of my sets, and just generally being a real asshole.

I gave it a name. Things that grow in your uterus get named. That’s how I feel.

I want it gone.

Now I get to sit and see how fantastic my period is next week and if I’m not happy with it, which I suspect I will not be if nothing has changed with my uterus, then I can go back in and have a camera crammed through my cervix into my uterus to take a look around to make sure it’s not anything other than a disgusting infection and, likely, perform a D&C. Which doesn’t sound fun.

Or I could go for second opinions. Which I don’t have the patience or money for.

I’m not having much fun with this. I know that I’ve not done any gross or disgusting things with my body and yet I still feel completely disgusting and like my crotch should be condemned.

I also don’t like my emotions with all of this.

I was really hoping I’d go in there today and they’d say “He is gone!” (I named it a boy’s name.) And I would be like “Yippee!” and then I could buy nice, new panties for nobody to see and I could use my nice sheets all the time and life would be great again.

Didn’t happen.

So, yeah. I’m dealing. It’s what I do. I’m looking at the bright side. The lining of my uterus looks healthy otherwise. I don’t have any signs of cancer. I’m not actually gross, even if I feel that way.

So. That’s me.

we all know the words were true in the sappiest songs

2011-06-30T09:38:00.001-07:00

Earlier this week I was alerted that a group I was a part of on Flickr was going to finally come to a close. I haven’t participated in the group in over a year and rarely even checked in to see what was going on. The times I did, I saw new people, new conversations, and a new vibe. It wasn’t the same for me.

It’s the same feeling I get when I drive to the state park I spent my childhood summers. The road has been paved, they’ve moved some portions of it, the area of the pool has been carpeted with fake grass to prevent slippage, and the lifeguards are all strangers. It’s the same pool and my memories are still there, but it’s all just a bit off.

But, when I heard the group was closing? I logged on and started participating with many of the people that I met when I first joined that group. A lot of us came out of our retirement and picked right up where we left off, as if a day hadn’t even passed. And it’s been great fun. It really has.

Internet communities are strange and wonderful places, but you really can and do make awesome connections there and I’m happier for it. I’ve got some wonderful friends thanks to these places.

This group came along at a time in my life that I needed an outlet for all of the bottled up me that was swirling around in my body. It came along at a time in my life that I wasn’t even yet aware that I’d been bottled up. It rescued me.

I don’t believe myself to be one of those women that men see walking down the street and they think to themselves, “Wow! That lady is hot! Sexy!” I really don’t. I don’t have an awesome booty. I don’t have a grand rack. Nobody is going to see me sitting anywhere and think they’d like to make a snack out of me. I do not believe these things.

But I do believe that when I’m being totally and unabashedly me and I’m feeling comfy and in the groove of just being me? I think that is the space where I am that woman. That sexy, smart, and funny woman that I can be. You don’t get that in a Victoria’s Secret ad. I’ll never be in a Victoria’s Secret ad.

I have this group to thank for even being able to see that yeah, I can be sexy. Even if that sexy isn’t what most people think of when the word sexy is presented to them. Or whatever. I don’t know. I just know that what I saw when I looked over my submissions to that group from the past years? I saw a woman that was happy, confident, scared, open, honest, brave, smart, witty, funny and downright sexy at times. And it’s me. ME! So weird.

So. Today is the last day. And we’ve all come out to play. And I’m enjoying the nostalgia and I’m enjoying the silly. I needed some silly.

I’m glad silly arrives at the perfect times.

for our ship to come

2011-06-28T13:13:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year when my Mom visited me, I took her horseback riding. She loves to go; I love to go, so it’s a big win/win situation for us both.

We were the only two on this tour. Just me, Mom, and the trail guide dude.

So, trail guide dude is being all trail guide dudey and making small talk and giving us tidbits of information about the desert. Some I know, some I’d heard before but never remember, and some that were brand new. He asked a lot of questions. What we do, where we live, why we’re here. The standard trail guide dude questions.

But, since Mom and I are both quite personable, we asked him questions in return and we wound up having a two hour horseback ride and conversation.

Which I took to be a nice time and that was that. Nothing else.

During the ride and conversation, trail guide dude asked my Mom when she was leaving town.

The night of the day my Mom was scheduled to leave, I received a text from an unknown number.

Trail guide dude.

Twenty-seven year old trail guide dude.

He apologized if he was being too forward or if he crossed some line and proceeded to ask me about dinner. We’d discussed spaghetti dinner during the ride, you see. Mom tried to sell my cooking skills to this trail guide dude during our two hour ride and conversation. As Moms of divorced/single ladies are wont to do.

I’d joked “Sure, I’ll make you a spaghetti dinner sometime” when he asked “So, when you are going to make me dinner?”

I thought this was standard trail guide flirty type banter and conversation.

Turns out he took it all to mean I liked him. Because I was nice and had a conversation with him instead of letting him stick to the standard trail guide dude chit chat model.

I’ve been upfront with this young man since that first night he texted me so politely after he knew my Mom was no longer visiting. I told him that very night that yes, we can hang out and go to dinner but that it would be a friends only thing. That I am not available for any sort of dating situation. Not in my mind, not in my heart. I’m not. I’m simply not.

He’s having a hard time accepting this. He’s twenty seven. An immature twenty seven, apparently. Naïve and young and likely loney and stuff.

He sorta makes me sad.

My friends don’t understand why I won’t just give him a chance. Why I can’t just be more free wheelin’ in that regard. Just go out and have a good time, they advise. You’re single, why not?

Because.

Just, fucking because. I’m not that person.

I’m a person with hopes and expectations that are set in. I’ve not even tried to let them go.

I’m a hopeless romantic that believes that one day, one fine and lovely day, I am going to have my happy ending. And I don’t need to give up on that. I don’t.

I like who I am. I like and respect myself for being hopeful.

My friends and a few co-workers think I just need to drop my panties and give it to whomever I find attractive.

Guess what? I don’t simply go out in the world and find people attractive. I need deeper connections than that.

I joked on Twitter months ago that I’m fiercely monogamous. So much so that I only have sex with myself.

It’s who I am. It’s who I want to be. It’s the life that I want for myself.

People don’t have to understand. And people don’t have to agree. I don’t expect everyone to be as hopelessly romantic as I am.

But I do expect a happy ending for myself and a little bit of care and concern in regards to my feelings and things that I may encounter.

I could be setting myself up to be heartbroken. But I’d forever have that regret in my life if I didn’t complete the path that I’m currently on.

Heartbreak can be dealt with. Regret is forever.

make them like you instead

2011-06-25T16:44:00.000-07:00

I tell ya, I don't really need to express my feelings as long as Pink writes songs. She hits pretty close to home sometimes. That's all on that thought.

At my job we have mostly monthly trainings and seminars and open house type events. They usually involve gouda and smiling at people and brushing my hair. Yesterday was a smaller open house type event that had cookies instead of gouda. I still had to smile and brush my hair.

The person that went to get the cookies brought back some respectable varieties of chocolate chip cookies. And? A few packages of Fudge Stripes.

Seeing those packages made me so damned excited for cookie time that I was able to talk to people and smile and show off my brushed hair like a real adult. All so I could get to the Stripes.

The second I took my first bite I felt like a little girl again. And the co-workers that came in and saw them all had the same reaction. And it was awesome. We all stood there reminiscing about our youth with little globs of chocolate stuck on our front teeth. It was happy and fun and grand. A simple happy.

Simple happy moments like that are special. Seeing people that are super stressed and bogged down with work being able to just escape that for even five minutes over a cookie is wonderful.

Simple happies. I'm glad I have them.

air conditioning and refrigerator

2011-06-23T20:00:00.000-07:00

I just logged in to Flickr to see what's going on in that area of the 'net and I see that one of my photos has been added to a Gallery:

What plan?!?

I have the very distinct feeling I do not want to be part of any of this person's plans. I could be wrong.

Except I'm not.

how can i move on when i'm still

2011-06-22T20:54:00.000-07:00

My thoughts on The Voice? Sure. What? You didn't ask? Too bad.

Most of the singers are mostly meh. There's two or three that I enjoy actually listening to. And Casey singing "I Will Always Love You" made me cry like a baby and think more about Dolly's version than Whitney's, which is a compliment, really. I love both versions, do not get me wrong there. But Dolly's seems to be more emotional or something. Maybe I just like Burt Reynolds better than Kevin Costner. Who knows the ways my brain works.

Anyway...

The Voice is a bit silly and a bit of a mess and Christina needs to wear bras that fit if she's going to have her boobs all hanging out with us all the time, but I appreciate the contestants for being mostly nerdy and uncomfortable and shy and awkward. They're not all "hey, look at me! i'm on TV! i was born to be here and i deserve this and lets all circle jerk each other and be attention whores!" like they can be on American Idol.

For that reason alone, I kinda dig The Voice.

And that is all.

left brain knows

2011-06-21T09:15:00.000-07:00

Apparently when your stomach is being made upset by the medication you’re on and you feel all cruddy and nauseated and blargh you shouldn’t eat fish tacos and Oreos. You will throw up. And it will not be fun.

So, bland food diet for me it is. Which is a win/win. All win for me. I’m the only one involved. I get to eat really bland food which isn’t very exciting and generally low in calories and I get to not throw up. I lose weight and I feel less nauseated. Which leads to more not throwing up. Anything that leads to less barf is a win.

But I can’t help but wonder what I’m doing wrong with my bland food diet in relation to my dogs’ bland food diets. When they get upset stomachs and are put on a bland food diet, they lose their fucking minds as I’m opening up that can. It looks gross. It looks bland. But they’re tap dancing and smiling and drooling all over the place and acting like there’s tiny tacos hidden in that bland food diet. Any food with tiny tacos hidden inside would be worth all of that hoopla.

There are not tiny tacos hidden in my bland food diet. There’s not anything hidden in my bland food diet. Just more bland.

But I feel less horrid today. Which is really the goal. And I think that any medication that makes you feel worse than you did without the medication is just wrong and mean and likely created by people who weren’t hugged very much as a child or ever. More hugs leads to nicer drugs, people. That’s my new belief.

Now I shall go and maintain my current non-nauseated state by eating non tiny taco hiding saltines. Stupid saltines. They have little air pockets built in. They could totally hide tiny tacos in there!

I just really like tacos.

i can tell that we are gonna be

2011-06-19T20:39:00.000-07:00

The medication they have me on is creating all sorts of havoc on my stomach. I'm seriously hoping this helps me drop some pounds. It's all about the dropped pounds, people.

I was in that stage where I felt all embarrassed and like a jackass for worrying and talking to my lady friends about the biopsy and what it could mean and all that time I used researching what it could be and what it would mean and worrying about things that are all now no big deal.

I've been fretting about the behavior of other people and my possible role in how they are currently interacting with me, or not interacting with me, whichever the case may be.

I've been really worried about my budget. And how I can't get ahead. And how I can't really, responsibly, fit fun items into my budget. And how I need to be mature and set aside a month or two to not do not even one extra thing that month. Not a lunch, not a dinner, not a movie, not anything. I may do this in August and September. Be the boring mature adult who needs to catch up on her budget.

Then, I sat down and I watched "Fight Club" this evening and I now feel calm and centered and relaxed and I remember that I'm not the center of the universe, nothing is really ever about me, that I can't control everything and I need to just let go. Just let go, Andrea.

So, I'm fine. Other than eating yogurt, that is.

Yogurt is gross, man. Just, fucking gross.

Also, my Granny is making a comeback. Friday was rough. Friday was touch and go. The doctors told the family that is there that Friday night would be an important milestone. And, apparently, she had a near death experience sometime between Friday and Saturday. She saw a door. She reached for the door. The door was taken out of her reach. The people in the room with her were watching her sleep. They saw her reach out her hand in her sleep then put her arm down. They watched her wake up and ask for food. They have watched her get stronger, spunkier, and more willing to accept the medical care that she needs.

"It's not my time."

She's getting stronger. She talked to me on the phone today. She said "I'm going to be around a while longer, don't you worry about me."

I'm no longer worried about her. She's decided to fight. So, I know she'll win.

I know part of my worry is my biology. I know it's in my DNA to be anxious. But I also know that I'm capable of fighting it. I'm not going to beat myself up for not remembering that all of the time. Being strong means sometimes being weak. And being able to admit to such things.

Plus, I just love and care about those that I love and care about and that love sometimes overshadows logic.

I am a perfectly flawed human being.

And now for a perfectly unrelated sidenote: "Super 8" is a fandamnedtastic movie. For serious. If you've not seen it yet I highly recommend fixing that. It's the first movie in quite a long time that has left me feeling happy that I saw a movie. It conjured memories of my childhood and it made me talk excitedly about those memories. This movie made me hopeful for the future of movies, that we're not just going to be 3Ded and sequeled and remaked to death. That there are people that are going to provide us with really good entertainment. I love a good movie experience.

don't not compute

2011-06-17T12:50:00.000-07:00

Sister = cervical cancer

Grandmother = uterine cancer

Aunt = fibroids & endometriosis

Mom = some sort of lady problems that are apparently not cancer but who the fuck knows since I'm just now hearing she had some of these issues and procedures done. Seriously. Families? Discuss your medical issues with one another. It's important. Damn.

Granny = likely just suffered in silence, so who knows.

Logically, I know that I need to settle down.

I've got the Prince going in the CD player. I'm wearing a nice black skirt and my boob and hip area enhancing purple shirt. Anytime I get ready while listening to Prince I feel 10% more attractive and sexy. For some reason, today, I wanted to feel womanly and sexy and yeah.

Stupid fucking uterus making me all up and down and crazy.

I'm being a big baby. And I'm thinking stupid thoughts. Thoughts about karma. And my role in other people's lives.

I'm not that grand.

I'm being dramatic.

I'm being dramatic when I know that I'm strong and brave and capable and will do whatever needs to be done and will move on and it'll be like nothing ever happened.

I just feel alone at the moment. So, I'm being dramatic.

And I'm alone because of me. I'm the reason.

Happy thoughts!

I'm going back to Logic Town now.

___________________________

All that research and preparation and worry and it turned out to be something entirely different. Something treatable. Something that will not involve any surgery and will more than likely not even require any type of procedure. So, yeah. I should have stayed in Logic Town.

Now, I can focus all of my energy on Granny. I'm currently in "we're not sure if you need to fly home yet" mode. This is not a fun time for me. I love, love, love my Granny. Love and admire.

I'm not ready for a life that doesn't have Granny in it.

Positive thoughts, please and thank you.

stand another hand upon you

2011-06-16T11:04:00.001-07:00

I finally go in for my biopsy results tomorrow morning. I feel that after making me wait for two weeks they need to have a Ryan Seacrest type person in the room to make things extra dramatic. A nice, emotionally manipulative lighting scheme would work. Perhaps a Simon Cowell type person to badger me for not using my uterus when I should have. Anything less than this type of visit is going to be very disappointing to me.

I’m all research upped and ready for anything they throw my way. Ready with questions and options and things of that sort. Ready Freddy. That’s me.

Ready. Freddy.

it just takes what it wants

2011-06-14T19:35:00.000-07:00

Oh how I love that video.

Granny is in the hospital. My Mom is refusing to go see her for ridiculous reasons. My sister has turned into the voice of reason. Granny is afraid. My Aunt is stressed. My sister has turned into the voice of reason.

I feel like I need to go home. Just to make sure they're not all simply on meth. It's all a bit much for me to take in long distance.

But I will not. I've been told, by the voice of reason, that there is no reason to come home as of now. That I will be told if there is. That all Granny needs at this time is rest and not for us to stress her out by flying in and staring at her and asking "are you okay?!?!?" as she lays in a hospital bed.

The answer to that would be "No. I'm in the hospital. Dumbass."

Such is the way of my family.

I talked to my Dad today. We discussed Granny. Then he asked about me. And my "female problems." I explained vaguely and delicately to not upset his country boy sensibilities. I assured him that my issues are vastly different from my sister's, which seemed to make him feel better.

So he decides to say "So, is this par for the course, then, for your age?"

*sigh*

My age.

Anyway.

I want to be the toughest Andrea on the planet and not give a shit. To be able to get stung by the cobra and just take a quick nap and then shake it off.

Mostly, I do.

My family is being crazy, my Granny that I love dearly is in the hospital weak and afraid, my uterus is being a real asshole, people are acting like shits, I let myself have expectations when I knew better, and my budget isn't really getting me anywhere. I have cobras.

Instead of a quick nap, I have a quick sit down and cry and then I get back up and realize that I'm Andrea. I'm pretty strong, you know.

I've got all of this under control. (imagine I just waved my hand in front of my person in a circular motion as I said that - it makes it better)

Yup. Under control.