Wednesday, December 31, 2008
New Subscription List
I heard from several people that the NotifyList link was not working properly, so now I am using Feedburner. There is a new widget off to the right to sign up for notification emails when I post new content. Give it a try; I think this one will work better. Fingers crossed!
Auld Lang Syne
So we've arrived at the last day of 2008. It is amazing to me how quickly time passes anymore. I remember being a kid, when the only things you really looked forward to were your birthday, the last day of school and Christmas and how it seemed like it took F - O - R - E - V - E - R for each of them to get here. Now it seems as if I blink and another year has passed. Birthday? POW! Anniversary? POW! Christmas? Again?! Really? POW, POW, POW!
I was musing about life in general the other day. I have never been one to have an actual five (or ten or even one) year plan for my life. I cringe when I have to answer those types of questions during job interviews. I usually end up saying something along the lines of, "I don't have a specific job or position that I envision, but I do want to be doing something that I enjoy and find challenging and exciting." Which, while it is a cop-out of sorts, is true. I have a couple of hard-charging friends from college that actually did have the next five years of their lives planned out at age 18. I admire their drive and ambition, but could never really see myself with the proverbial clipboard and ruler planning out every possible permuation. Come to think of it, though, this particular foible of my personality does seem to be a little out of character. As I believe we've established in the last year or so, I am an anal retentive, control freak but something about the "life" situation makes me just want to float along reactively taking things as they come. Ah, what a complicated lass I am! Apparently, it's all part of my particular charm.
Twenty years ago, the only things I pictured myself being were a wife and mother. I managed to achieve the former but not the latter and while there are days that I mourn the "me" that could have been, on the whole, I am probably happier than if I had had children. I've come to know myself well after some time in therapy and much soul-searching and though I could have been what we call in Texas a "fair to middlin'" parent, I would have struggled daily with my limitations. Many mothers would be perfectly fine being the proverbial "C" student of parenting. "Better than most" could be the rallying cry of great hordes of people and, really, since perfection in the raising of children is a quixotic goal, they are probably the healthiest of us all. But none of that is my style. Call it personality or genetics or personal idiom but only the loftiest of goals is good enough for me and when I cannot live up to them, mounting frustration often gets the best of me. My mother tells a story about me as a very young child that I find summarizes that characteristic of mine better than I ever could myself. When I started to talk, I started saying words. (I believe that car was the first one I said.) I was making the transition from babbling to words beautifully and then I just stopped altogether. Dead in my tracks. Nary a word was coming from my mouth. Mom was starting to really become alarmed and then I suddenly busted out with a complete sentence. She said that it was as if I knew that sentences were the next step and that I wasn't going to talk anymore until I could say them. Perfectly. And she truly suspected that I was practicing in my crib by myself so that I could unveil the first sentence in a dramatic fashion. Fast forward a year or so later when I was learning my ABCs. I would get somewhere around the dreaded L-M-N section and would lose my place. Instead of calmly starting over again, I would suffer a world-class meltdown with full on crying and carrying on and probably even some flinging of myself to the floor. And, yes, I am thirty (mumble, mumble) years older and have better control of my emotions but I still find that lack of perfection causes frustration which often threatens to boil over into anger. And I truly believe that the years of daily mounting frustration of parenthood would have turned me into a horrible, shrieking shrew.
I guess that somewhere in this end-of-year post, I fell into the justification for why we didn't pursue egg donation or adoption after our failed fertility treatments. I know that my dear, sweet friends and relatives will chime in with the "you'd be a GREAT parent" and "nobody's perfect" and "everyone thinks they are a worse parent than they really are" statements. And while they are all probably true, it wouldn't be the act of not being perfect, it would be my reaction to it that would potentially drive me over the bend. Self awareness is a beautiful thing when you're able to act on it.
And now in the worse segue of time, may you all have a happy, healthy, and safe New Year. I promise to be back to my normal, inane postings very, very soon.
I was musing about life in general the other day. I have never been one to have an actual five (or ten or even one) year plan for my life. I cringe when I have to answer those types of questions during job interviews. I usually end up saying something along the lines of, "I don't have a specific job or position that I envision, but I do want to be doing something that I enjoy and find challenging and exciting." Which, while it is a cop-out of sorts, is true. I have a couple of hard-charging friends from college that actually did have the next five years of their lives planned out at age 18. I admire their drive and ambition, but could never really see myself with the proverbial clipboard and ruler planning out every possible permuation. Come to think of it, though, this particular foible of my personality does seem to be a little out of character. As I believe we've established in the last year or so, I am an anal retentive, control freak but something about the "life" situation makes me just want to float along reactively taking things as they come. Ah, what a complicated lass I am! Apparently, it's all part of my particular charm.
Twenty years ago, the only things I pictured myself being were a wife and mother. I managed to achieve the former but not the latter and while there are days that I mourn the "me" that could have been, on the whole, I am probably happier than if I had had children. I've come to know myself well after some time in therapy and much soul-searching and though I could have been what we call in Texas a "fair to middlin'" parent, I would have struggled daily with my limitations. Many mothers would be perfectly fine being the proverbial "C" student of parenting. "Better than most" could be the rallying cry of great hordes of people and, really, since perfection in the raising of children is a quixotic goal, they are probably the healthiest of us all. But none of that is my style. Call it personality or genetics or personal idiom but only the loftiest of goals is good enough for me and when I cannot live up to them, mounting frustration often gets the best of me. My mother tells a story about me as a very young child that I find summarizes that characteristic of mine better than I ever could myself. When I started to talk, I started saying words. (I believe that car was the first one I said.) I was making the transition from babbling to words beautifully and then I just stopped altogether. Dead in my tracks. Nary a word was coming from my mouth. Mom was starting to really become alarmed and then I suddenly busted out with a complete sentence. She said that it was as if I knew that sentences were the next step and that I wasn't going to talk anymore until I could say them. Perfectly. And she truly suspected that I was practicing in my crib by myself so that I could unveil the first sentence in a dramatic fashion. Fast forward a year or so later when I was learning my ABCs. I would get somewhere around the dreaded L-M-N section and would lose my place. Instead of calmly starting over again, I would suffer a world-class meltdown with full on crying and carrying on and probably even some flinging of myself to the floor. And, yes, I am thirty (mumble, mumble) years older and have better control of my emotions but I still find that lack of perfection causes frustration which often threatens to boil over into anger. And I truly believe that the years of daily mounting frustration of parenthood would have turned me into a horrible, shrieking shrew.
I guess that somewhere in this end-of-year post, I fell into the justification for why we didn't pursue egg donation or adoption after our failed fertility treatments. I know that my dear, sweet friends and relatives will chime in with the "you'd be a GREAT parent" and "nobody's perfect" and "everyone thinks they are a worse parent than they really are" statements. And while they are all probably true, it wouldn't be the act of not being perfect, it would be my reaction to it that would potentially drive me over the bend. Self awareness is a beautiful thing when you're able to act on it.
And now in the worse segue of time, may you all have a happy, healthy, and safe New Year. I promise to be back to my normal, inane postings very, very soon.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Let Me (Re)Introduce Myself
Hi! I'm Inertia Girl. Nice to meet you.
You may be unaware of my horrible inertia problem -- which usually manifests itself by lack of blog posting. I seem to have been suffering from a severe case of it lately. As I've said before, I often go through phases of not having much to say and the information I do have doesn't seem to be particularly blog-worthy. (I imagine myself writing about it and then I think...does anyone really want to read this dreck?...and then I just keep on not writing anything.) Well, I don't think I've convinced myself that what I have to say is worthwhile, but I did finally decide that it's silly to have a blog and not post anything. So, here goes:
Got my official grades back and I pulled off the 4.0. Eight hours of A's, baby. I'm stoked that the whole school thing is off to a good start. Of course, this means that I'm now committed to grade perfection. No pressure there. Oh no.
I have been feeling neither "holly" nor "jolly" these days. This post gives you my general feeling about Christmas, but I seem to be particularly grinch-y this year. I'm really not sure why. Maybe it was the crush of schoolwork in early December that threw off my whole schedule. I have made absolutely no attempt to get the Christmas letter done this year. Maybe I'll shoot for a New Year's letter. (Hmmm. That has potential.) Today, I made the statement, "I wish they would just call off Christmas this year" one too many times, apparently, as TLS told me to knock it off. He pointed out that the odds of such a thing happening were infinitely small to infintesimal so I'd better just make my peace. Alrighty then. Consider my peace made.
The bright spots in my week were finding out that while a chunk of enamel fell off one of my teeth, that I didn't need any extensive (read: expensive) dental work. Score! I also got the pathology report back from a thyroid biopsy and it was benign. I'll take that as my Christmas present this year.
Merry Christmas to all!
You may be unaware of my horrible inertia problem -- which usually manifests itself by lack of blog posting. I seem to have been suffering from a severe case of it lately. As I've said before, I often go through phases of not having much to say and the information I do have doesn't seem to be particularly blog-worthy. (I imagine myself writing about it and then I think...does anyone really want to read this dreck?...and then I just keep on not writing anything.) Well, I don't think I've convinced myself that what I have to say is worthwhile, but I did finally decide that it's silly to have a blog and not post anything. So, here goes:
Got my official grades back and I pulled off the 4.0. Eight hours of A's, baby. I'm stoked that the whole school thing is off to a good start. Of course, this means that I'm now committed to grade perfection. No pressure there. Oh no.
I have been feeling neither "holly" nor "jolly" these days. This post gives you my general feeling about Christmas, but I seem to be particularly grinch-y this year. I'm really not sure why. Maybe it was the crush of schoolwork in early December that threw off my whole schedule. I have made absolutely no attempt to get the Christmas letter done this year. Maybe I'll shoot for a New Year's letter. (Hmmm. That has potential.) Today, I made the statement, "I wish they would just call off Christmas this year" one too many times, apparently, as TLS told me to knock it off. He pointed out that the odds of such a thing happening were infinitely small to infintesimal so I'd better just make my peace. Alrighty then. Consider my peace made.
The bright spots in my week were finding out that while a chunk of enamel fell off one of my teeth, that I didn't need any extensive (read: expensive) dental work. Score! I also got the pathology report back from a thyroid biopsy and it was benign. I'll take that as my Christmas present this year.
Merry Christmas to all!
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Ta-freakin'-Da!
Well, peeps, the end of the semester is officially here and I am done with my last assignment. Ahead of schedule. And hopefully done well. Go ahead, call me an a**-kisser, brown-noser, or curve-wrecker. I can't help it, I'm just anal. And driven. And competitive. Now, where's the tequila?! Must celebrate.
An actual conversation from yesterday:
Me: So if Alabama and wins today, and depending on what happens with Oklahoma and Texas, it will be Alabama versus one of them for the national championship, right?
TLS: Yes.
Me: Well, in that case, Roll Tide.
TLS: Why?
Me: Because I refuse to cheer for either one of them. (Aside: sorry Chris!)
TLS: And go against a fellow Big 12 conference team?
Me: Phooey on OU and UT!
TLS: You know, you don't get much "phooey" anymore.
Me: I'm bringing "phooey" back.
TLS: Making "phooey" sexy. (pause) Good luck with that.
An actual conversation from yesterday:
Me: So if Alabama and wins today, and depending on what happens with Oklahoma and Texas, it will be Alabama versus one of them for the national championship, right?
TLS: Yes.
Me: Well, in that case, Roll Tide.
TLS: Why?
Me: Because I refuse to cheer for either one of them. (Aside: sorry Chris!)
TLS: And go against a fellow Big 12 conference team?
Me: Phooey on OU and UT!
TLS: You know, you don't get much "phooey" anymore.
Me: I'm bringing "phooey" back.
TLS: Making "phooey" sexy. (pause) Good luck with that.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Random Roundup
I have a feeling that this post is going to be extremely disjointed. Nay, I know that this post is going to be at least somewhat disjointed. Why, you ask. Well, mostly because that is how my mind works these days...disjointedly. I think I've mentioned before about how all the fertility drugs I was taking several years ago would make me loopy, which gave rise to TLS's nicknames for me, such as Lupronia, Follistimia, and Repronexia. Apparently, as it turns out, every single hormone makes me loopy. And as I am now well into perimenopause, I am chock full of random hormones. (Really, Intertia Girl, you ask. You're not even forty, as the giant, green countdown clock likes to tell me.) Yes, perimenopause. I have the hot flashes, night sweats, moodiness, and brains-leaking-out-the-ears syndrome. Case in point: the other day I went into the garage to get in the car to go to work. I opened the backseat to put my computer bag in, shut it, and then promptly walked around the back of the car to the passenger side and OPENED THE DOOR like I was going to be chauffered around like a lady of leisure. What the...?
What was I just talking about? I'm pretty sure that I had a point when I started this whole thing, but heck if I know what it was. The whole disjointed thing sent me off into the hormone tangent and now I'm just lost.
See? Disjointed.
Oh! I got the next section of my giant semester-long project back graded and... DRUMROLL, PLEASE... got a 99. Woooo! I got my grade the other night when I had been suffering from what TLS's family likes to call stuffitis. (You know, when you're too full and you feel ill.) I opened the email with the grade and then ran immediately through the house, sliding into the kitchen where TLS was sitting at the table reading the latest Astronomy magazine. He looked up at me with this weird expression.
Me: I got a freakin' 99!!!!!!!
TLS: Oh, I'm glad. I thought for a minute that you were coming in to throw up.
(Pause)
Me: Yeah, right. Forget running into the bathroom, I'm all about vomiting in the kitchen in front of you.
That's my husband, always keeping it real.
What was I just talking about? I'm pretty sure that I had a point when I started this whole thing, but heck if I know what it was. The whole disjointed thing sent me off into the hormone tangent and now I'm just lost.
See? Disjointed.
Oh! I got the next section of my giant semester-long project back graded and... DRUMROLL, PLEASE... got a 99. Woooo! I got my grade the other night when I had been suffering from what TLS's family likes to call stuffitis. (You know, when you're too full and you feel ill.) I opened the email with the grade and then ran immediately through the house, sliding into the kitchen where TLS was sitting at the table reading the latest Astronomy magazine. He looked up at me with this weird expression.
Me: I got a freakin' 99!!!!!!!
TLS: Oh, I'm glad. I thought for a minute that you were coming in to throw up.
(Pause)
Me: Yeah, right. Forget running into the bathroom, I'm all about vomiting in the kitchen in front of you.
That's my husband, always keeping it real.
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