No longer a charming slice of life blog, now just a dumping place for my mental garbage

Pretending that I haven't been MIA for, oh, the entire summer, let's just jump to the updating and get it on with shall we?

Reunion:

I went. I saw. I conquered. I'm glad I went because now I will never have the regret of not going and wondering what it would have been like but otherwise it wasn't earth shattering, there were no revelations, no friendships rekindled. I did not wear the super sexy dress I blew half my rent on, I wore a webcomic t-shirt with a cropped blazer and fitted pin stripe knee shorts with snake skin print heels and am very happy with the decision. The best part of the whole thing? Honestly? Was my date. I really, really like this boy. Which makes me really, really insane. Seriously. What is worse than not having everything you ever hoped and dreamed for? Actually getting it. And the self sabotage that follows.

Weight:

Sweet jebus it is never going to leave me. I present, for your viewing ONLY and non commenting pleasure, me, in a bikini, 6 pounds ago. Yes I've gained since last month (I've included my double chin but cropped out my hair, the brand of beer I was holding, and most of the backdrop. Sexay!):



Now, I post this for several reasons. First, this is what 30 extra pounds on a tiny frame look like. Second, would it kill me to drop the beer and tone up already? Third, and most important, the reason why I haven't posted in a long, long time: This blog is crap.

Total, complete, and utter crap.

I started blogging in order to practice writing witty and charming and humorous observations about my life and life in general. It has instead become my secondary therapy, the place where I vent all the crap not fit to share with myself much less the world. It isn't funny, it isn't insightful, it's just me pouring out my insecurities and short comings and misery to the world. Most of the blogs I admire manage to write beautifully about their lives in a funny, human, and touching way instead of making the internet their garbage dumping ground. Now, I need it to be clear that I'm far more sane than any of this about 75% of the time, but somehow this became my confessional journal of misery. And you know what? Tough. It is going to stay this way. As a matter of fact it is going to get MORE this way. Much more. You may not want to continue reading because the rants are going to get worse, the insanity and self obsession more intense, overall, honestly, it is going to look like a damn teenaged angst filled diary except that I'm damn near 30.

I've avoided writing for so long because I wanted to avoid constant bitching and harping and being miserable. Then I realized that this is really my only outlet for such things. In therapy we focus on getting me better and positive things. With my friends I don't share nutty insecurities that even I know are retarded and stupid. With the boyfriend I never mention that I feel like a land whale and want to go on Survivor just for the starvation benefits.

I've made so many wonderful friends blogging over the years, and get to be a part of so many lives. The guilt over the fact that this is my dumping ground for total crap has kept me from blogging because I don't want to burden the interweb with it. The world doesn't need more negativity and surely the amazing people I've come to know and love don't need it either. The fact remains, however, that I need an outlet and this is the forum for it. I am choosing to not feel guilty over posting trite crap. I am choosing to let you know that I'll continue to visit your wonderful blogs and I am okay if you stop visiting here because really? Who needs the negativity, you know?

I'm not going to try to craft well written bits or edit myself. When I feel like bitching or being angsty I'm going to do so. I'm not going to try to post regularly, I'll post when it happens.

So I leave you with this: Breast implants. Jebus there were a TON of fake titties at the reunion. And I may be overweight but some of those bitches wrinkled up like Donatella Versache in the last 10 years and I don't know how. Did they smoke three cartons a day and live on the equator? Have they heard of sunscreen? I don't plan to be wrinkled like that even when I'm 80 and that is without botox. Seriously freaky.

And this was supposed to be a short update...

Wow. I don’t know where to start. First: Sorry for such a long posting gap. Here’s where I’ve been for the last almost three weeks:

Fun Filled Family Vacation!

Or not really. But it was an amazing success because I made it back in one piece, everyone is alive, and I didn’t have to sneak out for cocktails or snort lines of xanax to make it through. I did not, however, in almost a week straight of walking and being on my feet for at least 8 hours a day, lose even one pound. Not one. When I got back I was THREE POUNDS HEAVIER. Those pounds are gone, and I’m back to my starting point, but peeved. That much cardio and standing should equal weight or inches lost. (Don’t mind me, I’m just hiding in the corner pretending like I wasn’t inhaling churros, soft pretzels and pizza the whole time…)

…Mmmmmmm churros. And Pineapple whip. Oh heavens, there was this fresh pineapple soft serve that I had that was simply delightful. I want one again now….

Which brings us to:

Weight Loss:

Oh heavens people, I now have 30 days counting today to lose 10 lbs and firm up. That is IF I decide to go to this stupid reunion. IF.

Stupid Reunion:

Have you ever heard of a ten year High School Reunion costing $75.00 per person? Oh he-yell no. I went to the reunion two classes above me and it was like $15.00 and included two drink tokens. Aren’t these things supposed to be in the High School gym? Mine is being held in a stupid super post locale accessible only by gondola in a super expensive resort town (I grew up there, sure, but we was poooooor….And damn I’m still pooooor) and is “cocktail casual” which I can’t decipher. Do I wear a cocktail dress with tennis shoes? A slinky top with pajama pants? Fuck cocktail casual. If I take along the boy, and I would have to take along a date, it would cost my $150.00. Yeah.

Several things about said reunion:

• I don’t care about anyone going save the one person, a dear old High School friend, who called and begged me to show up so that he’d have buffer. He is bringing his boyfriend and though people suspected his orientation in High School I imagine there will still be some whispers. I do like said friend but he has flaked on me pretty bad the last like 10 times we were supposed to see each other and he has a date and I bet he doesn’t need my buffer. He is likely the kind to ditch me the second someone “better” comes along.

• I wouldn’t be so uncertain about the stupid event if it weren’t so costly. I didn’t pay that much money for my prom tickets and dinner combined, now they expect me to cough this up? If it were cheaper, and easier to get to, and easier to escape from (WTF gondolas?) then I’d just get the tickets and decide that week. But nooooo, the deadline is looming and the tickets alone will cost my grocery and gas budget for almost two weeks.

• High School was okay, and I’m glad I did it, but I don’t live there and I don’t need a walk down memory lane. As much as I bitch in this forum (because y’all have figured out that this is where I vent, right?) I’m fairly happy with my life and feel in many ways that it is just getting started.

• The only compelling reason I really have to go is that I don’t want to regret not going in the future. It is some kind of adult milestone and if nothing I could observe, I guess, but current me has little desire. It is future me that I am worried about. And, there is always that super slim chance that maybe I’ll meet up with someone really great and get to reconnect. For the life of me I don’t know who that will be because I knew most of my graduating class of 300 but I’m trying to be optimistic? So the only thing keeping me from totally blowing it off is some fear that in the future I will regret not going. Yeah. I hate my brain too.

• I’m fat and vain. There. I said it. How can I judge all the crappy girls there if I’m 25 pounds chubbier than I was in High School? And no, I do not think I am wearing it very well. None of it hit my boobs, it all seems to be distributed in my gut, upper arms, and chin. Sexay.

• To reiterate: My only compelling reason to go is fear that I will regret not going in the future and my dear old friend begged me. Otherwise the whole thing will cost me AT LEAST $500.00 I don’t have, I’ll look like a land whale, and my boyfriend may never talk to me again if I force him to attend with me (this is only one slot away from family functions). Yeah. Great. Did I mention that I must now decide by this Sunday? Tickets have to be bought by then. Bah Bah Bah!

Moving:

I’m going on day 5 in the new place with no water. Because I moved on the three day holiday weekend no one could come fix it and now there is bickering between the owners, the rental company and the property management place over what is wrong and why it isn’t fixed. While this is nice and all I STILL HAVE NO WATER. Luckily I only moved next door so I’ve been padding down the hall in a bathrobe every morning (and whenever I have to pee, which is a lot, I drink much water) to shower in my empty old place.

Today when I woke up in the new place there was no electricity. The power company blames this on a “misunderstanding” with the move order. They assure me that it will be fixed by the time I get home today. What do you think those odds are?

Work:

Tomorrow is the big re-org departmental wide meeting. Cross your fingers that something wonderful and magical happens and I somehow get to keep my job. I’ve applied all over the place, including different cities, followed up and done my very best, and heard absolutely nothing back. Things are still bad, regardless of what retarded economists predict the recession to end this year. For who? Paris Hilton? Bitch can’t even pronounce the word because it is more than two syllables long.

So there is your * quick * update. I’ll be able to write again next week when I hopefully have water, electricity, and internet all back up and working. Until then be good and think skinny thoughts for me. Skinny, lottery winning, job having thoughts for me. I know I will think them for all of you :)

Bah to this fatness already

In response to Sally’s question about how my clothes are fitting: Not well.

I have a (painful, excruciating, ridiculous) family trip to go on at the end of this week and was feeling confidant that I would fit into some shorts from last year. After all, I am back into my (sadly) normal weight range. Normal because I’ve been a minimum of 20 pounds overweight for the last…mmm…five years at least. Hence I’m back to *normal*. Well, perhaps not so much. I can’t button up one pair of shorts. Not one. I know they fit when I went to Mexico last October but I was at least eight pounds less then. Being short means 8 pounds = no shorts for me. I don’t have the money to buy news ones so I’m debating fashioning some stylish culottes out of bedsheets and calling it a day.

I still have 10 pounds to lose by June 27 and that is my adjusted hope, back when this all started I wanted to lose a total of 25 pounds by then which would have meant 15 more pounds, but short of quitting my job (which will quit me June 30th, ironically) and working out nine hours a day and hiring a brilliant team of scientists and chefs to prepare exact nutritionally balanced meals that come in at 1300 calories a day I don’t know how in Pete’s name this would even happen.

Big picture? My weight loss has been slow, but it has been mostly loss, not gain. I’m not seeing any toning of any muscles anywhere but my stamina is better. 8 weeks ago just walking down the street at work during lunch caused my shins and calf muscles to tighten so bad I had to stretch every few hundred yards. Now I can walk at a brisk pace for over 45 minutes, only stopping to stretch a few times, and am getting close to touching my toes again. These are great accomplishments. If I wasn’t considering attending this 10 year High School Reunion (of dooooooooom) then I’d be thrilled. I’d be on track, albeit a slow track, to getting in decent shape, being able to have fun outside again, and I wouldn’t have this deadline looming ahead of me. I’m 25 pounds heavier now than I ever was in high school and it’s not like I have kids or something to show for it. All I have to show for it is years of depression smothered in nacho cheese.

This morning I was really down and googled Nutrasystem. It is basically crash dieting, I know, and not a long term solution, I know, but I looked at it anyway. And got annoyed. It is about $350.00 for one month and that doesn’t include the fruits, veggies, and dairy I would have to buy to supplement their plan. I don’t have that kind of money. I don’t even spend that much money in a month for food. If I am spending that kind of money I expect them to send me lobster on their damn plan because hell, it is low cal if I skip the butter.

The only advantage to Nutrasystem is that it requires virtually no thought. And no thought, I have learned, is the key to my weight loss success. After a few weeks of measuring calories and making myself healthy mini meals I begin to break down. I can’t let my brain being any part of the process; it gets lazy or it sabotages me and I’m back to square one. It may take me a month to take off five pounds but I can put on those five pounds in one weekend: My brain cannot be trusted.

I need a good calorie restricted diet at this point where thought is virtually removed. I did good for 8 weeks on my own but I’m breaking down and not losing weight anymore. I wouldn’t want to put this push in because it is counterproductive to attaining a livable, healthy lifestyle but my ego won’t let me waddle into the reunion looking like Eris the Hut.

So what do I do?

Because Pigeons Trashed my Balcony

They tore the tarp apart that I used to cover my storage boxes.

They dumped leaves and pine needles and bits of feathers everywhere.

They crapped and crapped and crapped massive piles of bird shit on every available surface.

They knocked over my deck chair and crapped on that too.

They went too far.

I put out mouse traps. Everywhere.

The first day after I put out the traps and came home, several of the traps had been set off and were broken. I reset them if I could, put them back up, and went inside to drink heavy liquor and hide. The pigeons have given me the shakes. I've never been a brandy or whiskey drinker but a few more days of this and I imagine I'd be downing snifters of the stuff without need for a glass.

Four days since the resetting of the traps I haven't seen any signs of them. The traps are still set. The balcony is still trashed. But there isn't any extra trashing of late. I didn't like putting out snappy traps for the bastards, but I tried everything else and I don't want to die from pigeon disease. They can have the balcony when I move out, in a mere matter of weeks now, but until then they need to not use my space as a toilet.

Every time I hear a noise now, a printer starting at work, the upstairs neighbor showering, I jump up and think I need to go scare the pigeons off. I have damn pigeon PTSD. I have nightmares that they are going to smash through the sliding glass door and peck my eyes out. I'm afraid to walk outside.

Oh, and I've lost just about 10 pounds in 7ish weeks. BAH. I mean, YaY weight loss, not so yay on very slow going. But progress is progress, and I've got that.

Sallyacious and the CEO have thoughtful discourse

The following interaction between Sallyacious and Monty The CEO in regard to my last two posts makes me wish I had a higher blog readership because it is so good. I’m busy pondering their insight and waging war against two evil pigeons who have brought all their evil friends to flood by bacony with bird crap. Read, and enjoy:


sallyacious has left a new comment on your post "Addendum to the post below":

Maybe it's because you're settling for the status quo and selling yourself short.

You were ready to take a bigger step than this, whether you'd realized it or not. Are you sure this isn't a bit like settling for a boyfriend who's a nice guy and all, but who in the end isn't really who you're looking for?

You made the prudent choice, but prudent choices aren't always the most fun or interesting or growth-provoking choices. They're often the choices of stagnation.

Life, according to Carl Jung, gives us pain so that we can grow from it and become our complete selves. Prudent choices keep us in the same place. Only backwards.

Posted by sallyacious to Smells Like Nothing at April 29, 2009



The CEO has left a new comment on your post "Addendum to the post below":

I got caught pondering the last post while you put this one up. I'm going to take a middle course between you and Sally here. I like Sally's Jungian interpretation but think you both missed the object.

It's easy to point at the apartment and say that the next step was into something bigger and better, a better apartment or a house, yet this is the most improbable choice at this juncture of all of the variables under your control.

What do you have some say over? The boyfriend is where you have the most control, and the work you will seek next is the other. Saving money on housing simply makes sense and binds you for a year, or the extent of the lease.

I agree with Sally about growth, but I don't want to use Jung's term of pain, I'd rather use Maslow and Herzberg's term of risk. They actually mean the same thing. By taking risk, you can't be wallowing in all those things that make you feel good and help you avoid pain (like food).

A good risk for you might be taking your computer skills and finding a property developer and discussing job opportunities where you could work your way into floor plans. Or working with an architect doing something similar. Or considering telling the boyfriend maybe you both should date other people.

You should probably check with Sally, my personal biases are probably showing here. I may have an opinion to take responsibility for, in other words.

Posted by The CEO to Smells Like Nothing at April 29, 2009




sallyacious has left a new comment on your post "Addendum to the post below":


CEO - Excellent points.

I should clarify what I meant about pain. Pain comes from being stuck, from not addressing those things in our lives we need to address. We experience the pain because we're not being our authentic selves. So all of Eris' frustrations, etc.--according to Jung--would be that kind of pain.

We have two options when we get ourselves into these situations (and I have been in MANY; I have kind of a genius for finding them, I think, painful situations): we can choose to stay in the pain and remain stuck, or we can face the source of it and grow. But that brings its own issues, and in the end, the choice is between pain and fear.

So your risk is most assuredly a part of the equation. It's just what you take in response to the pain if you want to get anywhere.

Posted by sallyacious to Smells Like Nothing at April 30, 2009




The CEO has left a new comment on your post "Addendum to the post below":


Eris, you are truly graced with Sally as a friend. That is simply one of the most coherent explanations of Jung I have ever heard.

Everyone falls into problems. It what you do to get out that makes you who you become. You have talent. Start a business. Find a need and fill it. What do you need? So do a lot of others. You're smart, please don't forget that. Have a great day! And please, both of you, call me Monty.

Addendum to the post below

Moving next door is fiscally responsible. I'm getting a decent apartment for a good price. I'm saving a ton of money on moving. They only want a deposit, not first and last. I'm saving money on rent. Now is not the economic climate nor personal job climate to be living out of my means. I know the building, I know the neighborhood. I get to live alone.

So why does this feel so wrong?

I'm ready for change yet this feels like I'm signing up for status quo; like I'm selling myself short, and I don't know why.

What is going on here?

In which my breakdown quiet time keeps getting broken by CHASING GODDAMN PIGEONS OFF MY DECK

SWEET MOTHER OF GOB WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO MAKE PIGEONS GO AWAY?

The first pigeon couple got the hint after I scared them off 10 times a day for almost a week. This damn pigeon couple WON'T TAKE THE HINT and is scarily aggressive. I actually hit one with a broom mid flight when it came in and tried to dive bomb me (I was just waving the broom around people, it was an accident) and 10 minutes later the fuckers were back with twigs and bits of plants for nest building. This nonsense is distracting the hell away from my mind meltdown and not allowing me time to rock peacefully back and forth and mutter to myself. BAH.

Good News:
Found a place to live! Sign Lease tomorrow! It has the same exact amenities as my current apartment but with a better view, new paint, new carpet, new appliances, and new linoleum. The move is going to be ridiculously easy and the rent is $150.00 less a month than what I pay now. DEAL!

Why Eris is Crazy News:
It is the apartment next door. As in, 12 feet away. Which is lovely except that I've lived in exactly one floor plan for over 4 years and the new floor plan is just exactly that floor plan: reversed and backwards. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm going to have heaps of trouble adjusting to this. Never mind the broken toes when I stumble out of bed and smack into a wall in the wrong place; my brain is going to have trouble adjusting. It will be like living in bizaro world, or the other side of the mirror.

Moving there saves me mucho money, time, and effort, and in my current position I really had no choice. I've been looking at places in the same price range that I pay now and was going to wind up having to duct tape bags over single pane windows for energy savings, sleep with a chambered handgun, and beat my clothes clean out on rocks in a creek somewhere. I saw the place I'm moving to come on the market but for much higher rent, which they then dropped, and I lunged upon it like fucking pigeons lunge at my throat when I try to make them take their bird flu and filth elsewhere.

I know this is a good thing. I know I'm really, really lucky. I know.

But I'm really, really, sad and nuts right now. The current apartment has been my rock for almost half a decade. It is the only thing that stayed with me during my formidable young adult years. It is the only thing that has been safe, my home. The furniture has moved, the jobs have changed or been nonexistant, the weight has come on and off (and on), the friends have filtered in and out and disappeared, the relationships have changed (for the better) and through it all I've had my safety, my white walls, and my delicious walk in closet.

I finally figured out why I'm not handling this well: I feel betrayed. I feel like I'm breaking up with something. And I also feel like I'm taking a step back, not forward. I figured when I left this place it would be on good terms and I'd be moving up in the world. Something with a backyard. Something with higher ceilings. Maybe even something in another city. Instead my apartment, my sanctuary, my safety, decided to get all foreclosed on and become a mess and a nightmare and even IF I could have stayed they never would have lowered my rent to match the place next door. I thought we had something apartment. I thought we got each other. Instead you decided to go and hurt me like this, couldn't our goodbye have been amicable?

I want to cry but I can't. I'm not good at crying. A lifetime of suppressing emotions makes that happen. At least I'm acknowledging the emotions that are there as opposed to running, but still, I'm all sad and scared and lonely because I'm moving out of a stupid apartment. Yes.

If I could have stayed here at the price point of the place next door even though the carpets desperately need cleaning and the appliances aren't brand new I would have. This is home. This is safe. This inanimate dwelling has offered the only consistency and care I've had since "growing up". But I couldn't, and I can't. Instead I come home to a place that feels alien and lonely. A place that I vacillate between savoring and being angry at. A place I have to start imagining backwards and reversed so that I don't lose my mind completely.

A place that is technically home, but isn't.