8 posts tagged “blah blah”

Tonight I'm going to see a movie. The one from the previous post, Teenage Dirtbag. Watching the trailer was a bit weird, because the settings are still so familiar, even though this was filmed many years after I went to high school everything looks almost exactly the same. It's playing at Central Cinema, which means beer, wine, and food while I watch. Well, beer OR wine, not both. I haven't been out to a movie since District 9. Which is really not all that long ago.

I'm a matchmaker. I introduced two friends a month or so ago, and next thing I know they are happily dating. I'm very glad for them, but I can't help feel a bit odd about it. Odd because I did not really consider "setting them up." I just sort of did it. And now if things don't work out I am awkwardly in the middle. Let's hope it works out.

I cooked dinner for my ex-husband last night. I like my ex-husband. We get on well, especially considering we divorced each other, but I am still quite glad we divorced each other. I made a yummy potato-leek-spinach soup.

Apartment Therapy time again. Starting next week I'm doing another 8-week apartment cleansing. Hoping to get rid of a lot of stuff. I've recently become even more willing to let go of things as I consider the possibility that I may need to downsize my living situation.

I am re-reorganizing my memoir. I'm also getting much better at actually writing it. It's a complete mess right now, but I feel like I'm getting it on track. Slowly but surely.

I met Dave Eggers. I worked serving fancy toasts at the 826 Seattle Where the Wild Things Are VIP reception on Wednesday. I have been a fan for many years, but I wasn't going to make a point of talking to him. I didn't have anything I wanted to say, in particular. But he thanked us at the end of the night and chatted for a few moments. Which distracted me from the fact that I had to pee and I ended up having a very uncomfortable walk home after drinking water and mint tea all evening. Otherwise, the evening was kind of boring. But then I usually think parties are boring.

I saw Margaret Atwood. I'm not sure what to think about her new novel. It includes hymns. I guess the problem I have with dystopian novels is that they take certain aspects of what could go wrong (or weird) and explore those things thoroughly (rather than resting on the strengths of plot and character). This novel centers around a cult-like "green" religion. Which maybe is supposed to be a positive thing? But what if there were actually smart people in the future (who aren't oppressed to the point of incapacitation)? I'm just saying... the idea that the idiots must win rubs me the wrong way.

Andrew Wyeth tomorrow. I have to see these paintings at SAM before they go away.

My stomach is off. Although listening to Rick Steves talk about Italian food on NPR is making me hungry. I've been having heartburn every day this week, which just makes everything a little bit unpleasant.

I am going to take a bath now.  And other useless facts about my day.

I'm not sure why. Possibly the hours and hours I have spent doing research... and eating donuts. Top Pot has become our "office" due to a conflagration of internet/ seating issues in our apartments. So, yeah, fried sugary things and staring at a screen. Pretty much melted my brainmeats.

And I have become weirdly obsessed with Dr. Who. The new one. David Tennant. I have a big nerd-crush, and I can't stop watching the show! Sadly, I just finished watching the most recent season last night, and now I have to wait until next year for new episodes. Woe.

The wine-guzzling probably increases the tiredness too. And I plan to do more of that tonight and tomorrow. Tonight: Lily's birthday at Cafe Presse. I am already hungry. All I had for lunch was spicy vegetable juice. I want frites! and baguettes! and duck! and creme brulee! Tomorrow: my biz partner invited me to dinner at my favorite Greek restaurant with a couple of successful writer types and their amusing boyfriends. Meeting new people! Yay! More wine!

This weekend I also plan to start learning Shiva Nata (google it or check out Havi's site: http://shivanata.com/). This should be interesting as I am hopelessly uncoordinated. But I guess that's a good thing, because it makes my brain work harder. All this practice....

For the past several weeks I have had a pet moth. It lived in my bathroom and fluttered around in a panic every time I took a shower. I didn't bother to name it, but it was cute, as moths are. Yesterday I think it escaped when I had my kitchen window open. I hope so, because honestly what can a moth sustain itself on in my bathroom?

This past week at work we have devised a series of projects to work on that will be fun, if perhaps not profitable. We all want to use our creativity, and it makes me very happy to work with people who are willing to invest in doing cool things rather than just toeing the line with clients. Projects include videos, a blog, silkscreened posters & t-shirts. It beats monotony.

I get obsessed with Pandora.  There are few better ways to discover new music, and I take pleasure in giving The Cranberries a Thumbs Down.

I still don't want a free dinner at Chili's.

On Thursday I went to Collin's Pub in Pioneer square to watch the VP debate, but I soon became too drunk to bother trying to read the subtitles. I did watch it online yesterday and was completely un-shocked by everything that was said, including Palin's little winky-winks. Despite being a bit of a ding-bat who is out of touch with everything outside Alaska, I really don't think she's as bad as her detractors are screaming she is. Maybe not the brightest bulb. Definitely not a viable option for VP. But at least she's not Dick Cheney? When that's the best thing I can think to say about someone... not a good sign.

Last night aunt Rosie and I tried the new swanky Asian gourmet restaurant a few blocks from my house. It was just OK. For the amount of hype it's been getting I expected exceptional.

It's getting chilly around here. I have my window open to try to air out the place after I let aunt Rosie smoke inside, and now I'm sitting here wrapped up in a comforter.

I organized my pantry. That was enlightening. Who know I had so many lentils?

I have been working on my Master Plan. Not realy taking shape yet, though.

Tonight I am going to see Blood Simple at the Central Cinema. One of my favorite films at my new favorite theater, where one can eat and drink (dinner! beer! wine!) while watching.

I cannot find a copy of Infinite Jest at any of my usual bookstores. Maybe there was a rush on it when he died? I always used to see copies everywhere!

I like to watch, and to listen.  I am not aggressive about stating my opinions, thoughts, and desires.  Sometimes I am reserved to the point that I may seem inert or passive.  I have been called aloof.  I have been called shy.  Some people find me intimidating because I'm not overtly friendly.  But I am friendly and social and opinionated.  I am anything but inert, and the terms aloof and shy imply a level of self-consciousness that I don't think I've reached.  I am awkward in social situations at times, but I am not afraid to speak my mind when I have something to say.

I am an introvert, the Myers-Briggs folks repeatedly confirm.  I prefer time alone to social time.  I need time alone, or I start to get a bit mental.  When I am in social situations I am more likely to sit quietly and listen to others have conversations than to start one myself.  In one-on-one situations I often let the other person drive communication.

It's not that I'm hiding anything.  In fact, I can be almost shockingly forthright at times.  I can be drawn out by the right kind of coaxing to reveal intimate details about almost anything.  Secrecy is not something I do well or find much value in perpetuating.  Privacy is one thing, but secrecy is something else.  It's active and personal, rather than passively tactful.

One of the well-document residual effects of growing up with a mentally ill parent is a difficulty recognizing appropriate versus inappropriate behavior in social situations.  When children are very young they pick up on feedback from parents about what is "ok" to say and do, even if they don't always follow the rules at that age, they at least know what they are.  Children with mental illness in the home don't get the same signals and are left constantly wondering if they are acting "normal."  I still walk into meetings feeling like everyone sees me as some kind of freak.  It can be very disconcerting.  It's best to be quiet and unobtrusive. Not to mention the issues with emotional intimacy.  I won't mention them.

As an observer I can sometimes see the mysterious strings that tie everything together.  The same questions are asked and asked.  The same dramas act themselves out over and over.  Like it or not, we are all part of it.  The pieces fit together.

Yesterday a friend, an acquaintance, and I went to an afternoon showing of Control, the new biopic directed by Anton Corbijn about the last years of the life of Ian Curtis.  The film is based on Ian's widow Deborah's memoir Touching from a Distance. I've read the book, and I've been a fan of Joy Division since I was a teenager, so the plot was pretty predictable and I knew how it was going to end.  The grueling progress of a life toward suicide is not a fun thing to watch.  Walking out I felt utterly flattened.  I completely understood how he felt when he yanked himself out of life by the neck.  He had grown to hate all of the things he loved, including himself.

It's easy to feel like the present is a permanent state. This is why people do drastic things like suicide, murder, etc.  Newsflash: it's not.  One way or another the situation, however desperate, will change.

I have been severely depressed at times, but I have never considered that morbid escape.  When I was twelve years old and my mother was in one of her suicidal phases I made a promise to myself - (the only non-negotiable promise I've ever made to myself or anyone else) - that I would never do that, no matter how miserable I might be.  I recognized then how wrong-headed suicide is.  It's not about wanting to die, it's about wanting to live.  Death tends to get in the way of living.

I've been thinking lately about my nature.  I was feeling slightly guilty about wanting to stay home and read rather than go out and "have fun" with other people.  It turns out that a good book and a cup of tea are more fun for me than frenetic socializing.  I don't even like socializing.  There are some people I like spending time with, but bars, parties, etc. do nothing but make me bored and anxious.  That doesn't mean there's something wrong with me, it means I like to spend time with myself and a book.

People often seem to be looking for something, out there.  All the searching for some new excitement feels somehow empty, and not like living.  Life is not usually very exciting.  It's ok to just be quiet and take it in without trying to make it what it isn't.  This blog has almost no thread.  Vive La France!

But I can't seem to make anything stick. I'm writing, I'm painting, I'm doing yoga.  I'm thinking about running and trying to get up early enough to actually do it, but then staying in bed until I barely have time to shower.  I'm letting intimacy back into my life, with caution.  Now that I have my BA I want to think grad school, but then I've got this moderately well-paid job that I can't just quit because I don't have other means to support myself. And as long as I stay I have neither time nor energy nor financial aid.  And anyway, grad school for what?  That's the question.

I'm trying to get my home and finances in order, but I'm not having much luck.  Bad habits are hard to break.  I've got a writing seminar on Saturday. I'm waiting for an appraisal on my car.  I've decided to do the "one less car challenge" for $600 in Flexcar credit.  I have to get rid of my car (done) and promise not to replace it for a year.  Having lived most of my adult life without a car, a year sounds like a piece of cake.  And think of the money I will not spend on car payments, gas, and insurance. 

I have this feeling of not being firmly screwed down.  Not settled.  I'm dipping my toes in the pool, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to dive in... to anything.  And yet I want to be in the water. Over my head.

I could complain some more about how stressful work is, but how old is that getting? I was pleased with myself Tuesday morning - the dreaded post-3-day-weekend-Tuesday - with a 9AM conference call to justify a budget the client practically flattened me over on Friday. He used the phrase "not acceptable", which made me feel like I was about to be sent to my room.  The guy is 26-years-old.  Give me a flippin' break. My boss IM'd me right before the meeting and said "be prepared for [the client]'s attack." I was. Before he could lay into me I stepped forward to explain the (rational) thinking behind the outrageous sum and went on to explain how we could lower it. He was fine.  I was fine, Everything was fine.  And the world is still spinning on its axis.  The technical crisis that kept our dev team working long hours all weekend was resolved by Tuesday afternoon, and though we are delivering the final gold master disc two days late, the replicated DVDs will still be shipped on time.  All is right with the world.  Or at least it hasn't ended.

My friend Binky stopped by the office today to say goodbye before returning to Paris. It was sad to see her go - she has a powerful positive influence on me.  It's just occurred to me that it's a bit funny that Binky is also a friend of my boss and my therapist (she's a former client, but now they know each other socially).  Ironically, she and I often get onto the subject of boundaries, and how we don't have any to speak of because of our respective chaotic childhoods. Thus my boss and my therapist are in my extended social network. Not that there's anything wrong with that.  I think I'll try to make a stop in Paris to see her when I go to Europe in the spring.  She and I get on like the proverbial house on fire.  Weird proverb.

I could write about how I washed every inch of my floors with a wet rag on my hands and knees over the weekend, and it was a humbling and somewhat zen task.  But let's not go there.  I've been writing too much about house work.  Unfortunately that's about all I have going on right now.  That and "cream top" yogurt. It's work, clean, write, read, eat, exercise, and sleep.  That's about the size of it.  It seems to fit.

Here's something.  I had a client meeting on Tues. To work through some horrific sales guides that we are updating.  The client in this case is a contractor to Microsoft like we are.  His former "boss" at Microsoft was a woman who is the most intensely driven type A I have ever seen. I've seen her seriously cut people down in meetings, and when she disagrees, she does so vehemently.  Not someone you want to be on the wrong side of if you don't enjoy being yelled at by someone who is very smart and probably right.  On Tuesday the client mentioned her and how much she loved us (me and Stan specifically) - I knew that because she had mentioned it several times herself.  We are such a laid back group it's hard to imagine what someone so driven likes about us.  Besides which we don't have a clue what she's talking about half the time because she speaks almost exclusively in obscure acronyms.  Not everyone is so lucky though.  Apparently a certain multinational marketing agency got on her nerves and had their various internal organs served to them on a silver platter. Or something close to that.  She is the second client we have had who sent us lovey-dovey emails while berating the "main" agency.  Clearly, we are awesome.  I'm just not sure how we got awesome-er that this huge agency.

My stress levels have been at a ridiculously high level for... a while.  I could go back to about 2000 and start lining up stressors. Big stressors. Mom's cancer, a friend's murder, being laid off, huge debt problems, going to europe for a month (good stress is stress too), going back to college, working and going to school full-time, dad's cancer and death, marital collapse, divorce, dating, more traveling, pay cut due to financial crisis at work last year, getting thrown unexpectedly into a higher position with a lot more responsibility at work, using alcohol excessively to cope and then quitting drinking. This year work has been in non-stop insanity mode.  Project scope change has become a daily reality.  In order to survive, I need a lot of sleep, a lot of protein and B-vitamins, and a good sense of humor.

Whenever someone comes into my office I purposefully smile.  I don't feel like smiling, so perhaps this is disingenuous, but it makes things go so much more smoothly.  The moment you start to show your stress it immediately starts snowballing to everyone around you.  People who appear stressed amplify stress in everyone else.  This is probably my most useful work skill: the ability to appear calm.

But all this managed stress is still relentless pressure, even as I appear calm and in good spirits.  Today is our delivery date for a major, high-pressure Microsoft project that we plunged into just three weeks ago.  It feels like about  six months, the amount of stress I have packed into three weeks.  I am waiting for a client to show up at the office to review the final even as it is still in progress.  We're not going to make the FedEx cutoff, we're just not. 

I am both lead project manager and account manager.  I have to tell the client when we are behind schedule or over budget (it's usually their fault, but still...)  I have to put pressure on the designers, developers, and video editors to get everything done on schedule even when I know that means they have to work through weekends or into the wee hours.

It's starting to wear me down.  I feel emotionally vulnerable and mentally exhausted.  Every time someone speaks to me or sends me an email it's usually about something that has changed, or doesn't work, or won't be done on time.  I continue to smile.  The clients are happy.  The production team still smiles back, even when I'm putting pressure on to get the thing done, now.

If the pressure lifted, what would it feel like?  If suddenly my job became sane and stable and satisfying?  If my personal relationships were predictable and solid? If my finances were not continually on the brink of disaster? If my mom weren't hovering on the edge of psychosis and my grandfather wasn't plunging into bewildering senility? If my household chores weren't just slightly more than a can cope with after a 10 hour workday, or someone had cleaned my house while I was at work?

Maybe I would feel like smiling more often.  Maybe I would feel like seeing people from time to time, rather than hiding out.  Maybe I wouldn't have to do so much work to fend off depression and anxiety.  Maybe I would be kinder and more patient with people who have issues of their own.  Maybe I would be able to think clearly and sleep soundly.  Maybe I could find the energy to be creative again.

But... the stress is not going away.  I have chosen my work stress for a variety of good reasons.  The things I can't control, well, I can't control them.  All I can to is take care of myself and stay present. I am here, and I am ok.  That's all there is.