Having much more counter space than I am used to and a blender of good shape (blender shape, if you were wondering), the latter courtesy of my dearly-missed best friend Hannah, I have been smoothie-ing up a storm lately. Frozen fruit, room temperature banana, yogurt, almond milk... It's good times. Found out early and the hard way that including raspberries or blackberries is just asking for trouble, but blueberries and strawberries are always a good bet. The grocery store we frequent, Copps, also has frozen mango which I might try in the near future. I've resolutely turned away from it until now because the friend who gave me the blender doesn't like mango and it seems somehow wrong to use her gift to prepare mangos for consumption. It was only a few minutes ago when I realized that the method of preparation concerned involves the frozen (brr) mango getting to dance a dangerous dance with blender blades. So I am resolved to buy frozen mango at the next opportunity and try it with almond milk. Mmm.
Work is going well. I think I will like it there and as modestly as possible I am quite sure they will like me. Good position in which to find oneself. This week I'm working short shifts in the evening, and today (the first day of this shift) was nice.
More of a disruption than a smoothing: I am okay at drumming when we play Rock Band! I've done it before but not very much when friends of mine in Florida and I had Nacho Wii Friday (god I miss Nacho Wii Friday and those friends). But the woman of the house was our designated drummer, and she's really good. I volunteered to drum when we played with some friends at last week's game night, and ended up drumming for most of the night. It was fun! And then Josh and I have played at home for a while the past two nights, and I've drummed then, too. My guitar/bass skills are only passable, and though I like singing and I like being reliable at singing it's never felt like enough in the way that being alright at the drums satisfies me, since that's... Not easy in the way that singing is, I guess.
Worried about good friends who are going through a bad spot. They're okay with one another, their little family is fine, but they're worried about the future and I'm worried about them. I wish I knew enough about the world to sort things out for them.
To end on a good note: Josh bought us a car!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
W-4, I-9, and workin' hard for the money
Got a job! I start Tuesday. I got the job Wednesday, but I've been really busy filling up my time with being unemployed stuff since then. Gotta get it all in now, yeah?
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Guns
I don't want to get shot. I don't think anyone wants to get shot.
I used to think that the perfect world was one where there weren't guns; no one gets shot that way, and it's kind of a win for the earlier wish. I was unimpressed by people who said "It's a right!" or "I feel safer with a gun!" or "I want to be able to protect my family!" and I wrote them off as crazies who just wanted a boom boom stick.
I don't really see it the same way any more. I would still rather there were no guns, and I interpret the Second Amendment differently than pro-gun groups, but I can see how people could read it as saying that American citizens can have guns. I want people to feel safe. And I appreciate that a person would want to protect his or her family. I'll even admit that I think guns in movies are cool. I confess (particularly as a vegetarian) that I don't get hunting, but I know I really enjoyed fishing when I had occasion to do it, and provided hunters aren't shooting each other and obeying the law... It's not my thing but I don't have a problem with it, you know? I've known people who hunt who are great people. That influences my opinion, certainly. And we've got some beautiful space in the United States of America. If an outdoorsman wants to use some of that space to hunt, I don't have a problem with that.
I have a problem with people shooting people. On purpose or inadvertently. And while guns can be used to intimidate, that's what they are for: shooting. If someone is intimidated by a gun it's because they're thinking "Balls, that mother fucker could shoot me. Better do what he says or kick that thing out of his hand right quick." So if someone who wants to rob or harm you comes into your house, or even if you're worried that it might happen-- yes, by all means, purchase and have a gun if it makes you feel safer or could save your family. Nevermind the logistics of keeping the gun accessible in the event of a home invasion but also where kids can't get to it. And if you want to hunt deer or turkeys or whatever, go for it. Maybe don't shoot each other in the face is all I'm saying.
But guns in public. What is that? Why do you need your gun at the park? Why do you need your gun at the farmer's market? Why is anyone so excited about being able to keep a gun in a jacket pocket? Keep your gun at home, Rambo! And if to that you say "Criminals don't keep their guns at home!" and if that makes you too scared to leave your arsenal at your address, well, I hate to put this on you, but that's a personal problem. I've been going out in public places for 24 years, unarmed, and I have yet to be shot. Haven't even broken any bones. Are you afraid of getting shot? Me, too.
I used to think that the perfect world was one where there weren't guns; no one gets shot that way, and it's kind of a win for the earlier wish. I was unimpressed by people who said "It's a right!" or "I feel safer with a gun!" or "I want to be able to protect my family!" and I wrote them off as crazies who just wanted a boom boom stick.
I don't really see it the same way any more. I would still rather there were no guns, and I interpret the Second Amendment differently than pro-gun groups, but I can see how people could read it as saying that American citizens can have guns. I want people to feel safe. And I appreciate that a person would want to protect his or her family. I'll even admit that I think guns in movies are cool. I confess (particularly as a vegetarian) that I don't get hunting, but I know I really enjoyed fishing when I had occasion to do it, and provided hunters aren't shooting each other and obeying the law... It's not my thing but I don't have a problem with it, you know? I've known people who hunt who are great people. That influences my opinion, certainly. And we've got some beautiful space in the United States of America. If an outdoorsman wants to use some of that space to hunt, I don't have a problem with that.
I have a problem with people shooting people. On purpose or inadvertently. And while guns can be used to intimidate, that's what they are for: shooting. If someone is intimidated by a gun it's because they're thinking "Balls, that mother fucker could shoot me. Better do what he says or kick that thing out of his hand right quick." So if someone who wants to rob or harm you comes into your house, or even if you're worried that it might happen-- yes, by all means, purchase and have a gun if it makes you feel safer or could save your family. Nevermind the logistics of keeping the gun accessible in the event of a home invasion but also where kids can't get to it. And if you want to hunt deer or turkeys or whatever, go for it. Maybe don't shoot each other in the face is all I'm saying.
But guns in public. What is that? Why do you need your gun at the park? Why do you need your gun at the farmer's market? Why is anyone so excited about being able to keep a gun in a jacket pocket? Keep your gun at home, Rambo! And if to that you say "Criminals don't keep their guns at home!" and if that makes you too scared to leave your arsenal at your address, well, I hate to put this on you, but that's a personal problem. I've been going out in public places for 24 years, unarmed, and I have yet to be shot. Haven't even broken any bones. Are you afraid of getting shot? Me, too.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Infamous, Intercision, and an Interview
Josh has been playing this very cool-looking game called Infamous for the past few days. He would probably have finished by now if I didn't keep interrupting him for activities that require his presence somewhere that is not in front of our television.
Have I mentioned our couch is amazing? I love this couch. I'd sit here and play video games all day, too.
Anyway. Infamous. So the player is Cole (?), this guy who through some town-isolating explosion is granted zappy powers and a monkeylike urge to scramble up buildings. Cole saves a lot of people in the city and it appears that gradually turns public opinion to his favor (everyone seems to think he's responsible for the explosion--he wasn't-- and they make a lot of noise to that effect when he walks by). There's some FBI agent outside the city who really wants to find her husband inside the city, but as I said, city is isolated. So she gets in contact with Cole and promises she will get him out and try to clear his name if he finds her husband. Cue fifteen bajillion side quests, and about as many people coming to him for favors... As Cole's over folksy buddy Zeke would say "Yer fucked, buddy! Ain't goin' nowhere!"
It's fun to watch Josh play this game, at least in a look-up-from-what-I'm-doing kind of way.
We watched The Golden Compass last night. Friends loaned it to us, and I really wanted to see it when it was in movie theaters a few years ago. I got an omnibus of the stories a year or so after that and read the first book, the one the movie is based on. It was a solid enough adaptation, right until... the ending. Which was just not there. The ending is not sunshinerainbows, but I was really disappointed the producers chose to cut the movie short. Anyone who only sees the movie and doesn't read the book is being left with a version of the story that's lacking and wrong.
Been applying and applying and applying for jobs, crossing my fingers, and getting "we've chosen another candidate" letters. It's nice to at least get responses, but I certainly wish some of them were yes-ier. Tuesday I have an interview at a conference/hotel space operated by the university, so we'll see. More crossed fingers.
Finished the garden stakes for our plot at Epic. I found el cheapo spatulas at Michael's and painted them each a rainbow color, then decorated them with those smooshed marble bits of glass, a gold paint pen, little designs, and the requisite names of plants. They look pretty neat, and I'm happy to have seen the project through. Need to spray them with the sealant, and then get them out there sometime this week.
Have I mentioned our couch is amazing? I love this couch. I'd sit here and play video games all day, too.
Anyway. Infamous. So the player is Cole (?), this guy who through some town-isolating explosion is granted zappy powers and a monkeylike urge to scramble up buildings. Cole saves a lot of people in the city and it appears that gradually turns public opinion to his favor (everyone seems to think he's responsible for the explosion--he wasn't-- and they make a lot of noise to that effect when he walks by). There's some FBI agent outside the city who really wants to find her husband inside the city, but as I said, city is isolated. So she gets in contact with Cole and promises she will get him out and try to clear his name if he finds her husband. Cue fifteen bajillion side quests, and about as many people coming to him for favors... As Cole's over folksy buddy Zeke would say "Yer fucked, buddy! Ain't goin' nowhere!"
It's fun to watch Josh play this game, at least in a look-up-from-what-I'm-doing kind of way.
We watched The Golden Compass last night. Friends loaned it to us, and I really wanted to see it when it was in movie theaters a few years ago. I got an omnibus of the stories a year or so after that and read the first book, the one the movie is based on. It was a solid enough adaptation, right until... the ending. Which was just not there. The ending is not sunshinerainbows, but I was really disappointed the producers chose to cut the movie short. Anyone who only sees the movie and doesn't read the book is being left with a version of the story that's lacking and wrong.
Been applying and applying and applying for jobs, crossing my fingers, and getting "we've chosen another candidate" letters. It's nice to at least get responses, but I certainly wish some of them were yes-ier. Tuesday I have an interview at a conference/hotel space operated by the university, so we'll see. More crossed fingers.
Finished the garden stakes for our plot at Epic. I found el cheapo spatulas at Michael's and painted them each a rainbow color, then decorated them with those smooshed marble bits of glass, a gold paint pen, little designs, and the requisite names of plants. They look pretty neat, and I'm happy to have seen the project through. Need to spray them with the sealant, and then get them out there sometime this week.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Of changed stripes and former shades
I was married once, after a relationship of several years that weren't really abusive but were in no way healthy for me. I put myself in that position and went through with being in the relationship and even marrying the guy because I thought I had to (I got kicked out of home and moved in with him, which sealed the eventuality as far as my messed up mentality went at the time). My ex-husband isn't a bad guy. He's not the best guy, he was never the guy for me, and he had his faults, but as much as I wish I could forget everything and write him off as an asshole-- and oh ho ho, let me not lead you to believe that he behaved as a saint during our relationship or especially our divorce, because that is also far from the truth-- it's not like he chugged vodka, hit me on a regular basis, called me names, or... you know, did the stuff crappy boyfriends/husbands on TV specials do.
My life now is good in all the ways that time in my life was not: I am honest with my significant other, I believe that he knows and loves me (it helps that I am honest with him), I want to be with him because it makes me happy without hinging on saving him, and I do not feel the need to keep myself small to satisfy him or his sometimes batshit crazy family. True of the ex, not of my boyfriend. Truly I lucked the fuck out in his parents and really in his whole family; they are great.
I look back on that time with regret and shame and sadness that decrease in intensity as all that bad stuff gets father away from the present, but also with a sense of deep relief. I could have at many points saved myself from what already felt like impending doom, and went through with it anyway. I can't believe I ever felt like it wasn't alright to find a way out. When I get deep enough in conversation with someone about it I cry because I am so relieved to be free of all that weight, all that crazy, all those eggshell rules, and so relieved to be somewhere better so few years later. I don't really like having a divorce under my belt, but the bad times help me savor the good times, when I get reflective.
My ex's sister had a baby with her husband, conceived in a tumultuous relationship, born in a crazy marriage, and quickly the child of a divorced couple. That poor family: desperate for marriage and babies, and all three kids married and divorced. Anyway. The one grandchild was a sweet enough kid--I felt like his mom got a better deal than she deserved, in my pettier moments-- and I really liked being his aunt and buying him clothes and spending time with him. Naturally this drew to an abrupt close when I told my then husband that I wanted to end our marriage. Which is the one time he hit me. I think I would have let it go with more grace (not an action I would have expected from him) if he hadn't lied about it to our friends or to me. 'Cause, you know, all you've got to do to make sure a girl doesn't remember getting hit is to hit her in the face with your fist. That doesn't count!
Right. So that kid graduated from preschool sometime recently, and a friend on Facebook (someone I knew through the sort-of sorority that eventually led to my meeting the family I married into) was tagged in the album of preschool graduation pictures. His parents flank him in most of the photos, and to all appearances they look like happier, healthier people. At the very least they do not appear to be clawing at each other. In a very, very far-away detached way, it makes me happy to see they can be like that for his sake. And his grandparents, who are crazy but were as good to me as they knew how to be, are still alive (the patriarch of the family is almost in his 80s, if not yet there). And the kid might be a godawful hellion now, it is in his DNA, but I remember him as a sweet little boy. And from that far-away detached place I know I don't want to think about these things or people, because I was so dishonest with myself when we were a part of each other's lives. But there they are. I can't deny their place in my history or their intrinsic part in my growing up.
I am happier, healthier, and honest-er on the other side of my time with them than I was before or during it. I hope that the relationships I have and am forging now will be lifetime ones, and that when the little boy I babysat today and adore the snot out of even (or at least very soon after) he pulls the carbon monoxide detector out of the wall, setting off a VERY LOUD ANGRY SUSTAINED BEEP graduates from preschool, I will be there.
My life now is good in all the ways that time in my life was not: I am honest with my significant other, I believe that he knows and loves me (it helps that I am honest with him), I want to be with him because it makes me happy without hinging on saving him, and I do not feel the need to keep myself small to satisfy him or his sometimes batshit crazy family. True of the ex, not of my boyfriend. Truly I lucked the fuck out in his parents and really in his whole family; they are great.
I look back on that time with regret and shame and sadness that decrease in intensity as all that bad stuff gets father away from the present, but also with a sense of deep relief. I could have at many points saved myself from what already felt like impending doom, and went through with it anyway. I can't believe I ever felt like it wasn't alright to find a way out. When I get deep enough in conversation with someone about it I cry because I am so relieved to be free of all that weight, all that crazy, all those eggshell rules, and so relieved to be somewhere better so few years later. I don't really like having a divorce under my belt, but the bad times help me savor the good times, when I get reflective.
My ex's sister had a baby with her husband, conceived in a tumultuous relationship, born in a crazy marriage, and quickly the child of a divorced couple. That poor family: desperate for marriage and babies, and all three kids married and divorced. Anyway. The one grandchild was a sweet enough kid--I felt like his mom got a better deal than she deserved, in my pettier moments-- and I really liked being his aunt and buying him clothes and spending time with him. Naturally this drew to an abrupt close when I told my then husband that I wanted to end our marriage. Which is the one time he hit me. I think I would have let it go with more grace (not an action I would have expected from him) if he hadn't lied about it to our friends or to me. 'Cause, you know, all you've got to do to make sure a girl doesn't remember getting hit is to hit her in the face with your fist. That doesn't count!
Right. So that kid graduated from preschool sometime recently, and a friend on Facebook (someone I knew through the sort-of sorority that eventually led to my meeting the family I married into) was tagged in the album of preschool graduation pictures. His parents flank him in most of the photos, and to all appearances they look like happier, healthier people. At the very least they do not appear to be clawing at each other. In a very, very far-away detached way, it makes me happy to see they can be like that for his sake. And his grandparents, who are crazy but were as good to me as they knew how to be, are still alive (the patriarch of the family is almost in his 80s, if not yet there). And the kid might be a godawful hellion now, it is in his DNA, but I remember him as a sweet little boy. And from that far-away detached place I know I don't want to think about these things or people, because I was so dishonest with myself when we were a part of each other's lives. But there they are. I can't deny their place in my history or their intrinsic part in my growing up.
I am happier, healthier, and honest-er on the other side of my time with them than I was before or during it. I hope that the relationships I have and am forging now will be lifetime ones, and that when the little boy I babysat today and adore the snot out of even (or at least very soon after) he pulls the carbon monoxide detector out of the wall, setting off a VERY LOUD ANGRY SUSTAINED BEEP graduates from preschool, I will be there.
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