a bit edgier than normal

A very perceptive coworker has heard a very tense tone in my voice this week. I say very perceptive because I haven't confided in this coworker about anything other than a general distaste for a few aspects of my job. It is true, I've been edgier than normal. And tense. And stressed.

Lately I've been contemplating the future. My future. My future career and where I want to be. More importantly, why am I not there yet?

A lunch date with a friend/former coworker has helped me to put my life into perspective. It is always amazing to me that I can meet with this friend for a few minutes and walk away from the conversation with an entirely different attitude about the goings-on of my life. It is one of the things I like most about her. I've reached a conclusion: I might not be sure about where I want to be, but I know why I'm not there yet. I've set unreasonable limits on myself and on my career aspirations. I've been content to stay in the same place and be unhappy without trying to better my situation. This is not how my personality usually manifests itself. Because I'm not normally one to just wade in despair without seeking change, I've been making myself even more miserable and in turn I'm projecting my misery onto those around me, whether they are already dreary or not. I'm a downer and I don't want to be a downer anymore.

It seems that it is about time that I take the advice I'd been dishing out to my friend Kristen for the past couple years - do what you need to do to make yourself happy. Make happiness a priority. I haven't quite figured out how to do that, but I'm going to try.


goodbye to a friend

Estelle Getty of Golden Girls died today. This is a very sad day. I've been a fan of the show, and particularly of the quick-witted and snarky character Sophia Petrillo, since it aired in reruns after school while I was in late elementary and middle school. Perhaps not the best choice of subject matter for a preteen girl, but I loved the show and forged a connection with the characters.

Ever present in my life, this show ran in syndication while I was in college and got me through many sleepless nights. It has been a constant source of comfort throughout my life, always there waiting on the Lifetime channel to be a good friend when I needed it. A shared love for the show cemented my friendship with Kristen, whom I plan to someday live with when we are old and widowed and golden.

Goodbye, Estelle, and thank you for being a friend.

one, two, three

You may notice a slight change in the layout of my blog. I had noticed it was quite heavy with sidebar content, so I decided to utilize a 3-column layout to alleviate the need to scroll down.

what i'm listening to these days

I've finally got a pretty good playlist going at Project Playlist, the wonderfully amazing site where you can set up a music rotation free of charge. I'm sure many of you are already using this marvelous site, but if not, go set up the 2008 version of a mix tape. Mine is here, if you are interested in what I've been listening to while at work lately. I've kept it rather mellow and work appropriate. Unfortunately, a number of the indie bands I like are not available through this service, at least not yet. Anyway, check it out for a random sampling of what gets me through the day.

For those of you who don't share my taste in music, I've spared you by not loading the playlist directly to this site. There is a link in the left sidebar if you are so inclined to visit it often. Also, it makes it easier for you to check my blog from work without alerting the others in the cube farm.


wisconsin welcomes you!

I'm happy today. No, I didn't win the lottery. Yes, I'm going to go to work. No, I'm not taking Prozac. Then, why am I happy, you ask? My wonderful friend Kristen is moving back to the land of cheese from her eight year stint in what I consider the state of discontent (also known as Minnesota). I know, not all of MN is bad, just the part where I lived during the time in which I lived there.

Anyway, as I said earlier, Kristen will soon be moving back to her homeland due to a new job opportunity. Yay for her! I couldn't be happier. She'll still be a few hours away, but she will be much closer, and the distance will be much more bearable than the 7 hour drive into hell had been.

I'm planning to help her and her devil dog Ella (her description, not mine) unpack in a few weeks. I foresee many fun weekends in the future. Our college years were a study in frugality - it is amazing all of the things we did without a lot of money. Three years later, we are still slaves to a budget, but we are older and wiser and hopefully even more creative in how to pinch pennies. Perhaps I'll even stop acting like a 70-year-old shut-in.


what color are you?

i am lawngreen

Your dominant hues are green and yellow. There's no doubt about the fact that you think with your head, but you don't want to be seen as boring and want people to know about your adventurous streak now and again.

Your saturation level is very high - you are all about getting things done. The world may think you work too hard but you have a lot to show for it, and it keeps you going. You shouldn't be afraid to lead people, because if you're doing it, it'll be done right.

Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.
the spacefem.com html color quiz


living room wrestling entertainment

Yesterday when I got home from work, the house was empty with the exception of the dog and cat. I decided, for some odd reason, that it was the perfect time to clip the dog's toenails. Perhaps it was because the clippers were in the same drawer as the scissors I was looking for to snip the end off of my icy pop. No, the scissors and dog nail clippers were not touching, as that would be gross.

So, there I was, wearing the dress I had worn to work, preparing to give the dog a pedicure on the living room floor. The first three feet were a breeze, she didn't mind at all. The front left paw, however, is a different story. That paw is the paw she licks ALL THE TIME, despite me spraying it with some sort of anti-lick potion that obviously does not work. In other words, that paw is apparently tender, or magical, or something, and she didn't want me to go near it with the clippers. I was not going to leave the dog with some nasty looking, 3/4 finished pedicure. I wouldn't paint the nails on my toes and one hand, leaving the other hand to look sad and bedraggled and I wasn't going to allow my dog to walk around that way either.

If you had entered the living room at the time of the last paw nail-cutting, this is what you would have seen: a 26-year old woman in a dress sitting atop an Australian shepherd dog who is writhing and twisting to escape the wrath of the nail cutter. Jammer escaped multiple times and I grabbed her by the back legs so she couldn't run away. The sofa sectional is subsequently stumbled into and separated into two pieces. My foot is wedged under the coffee table and the dog is using her untrimmed toenails to drag herself by one leg away from me. The poor cat is sitting atop the sofa with a concerned look on his face.

The dog breaks free, leaving me a wrecked contortion of a person on the floor with an assortment of clippings stuck to my bare leg. (Now is the time I wish I would've turned the air conditioning on before striking out on this endeavor.) This battle continues for at least another ten minutes, rolling and twisting across the living room floor, me jumping up to get a better hold on the dog, the dog turning into a boneless, flailing beast that is able to thwart my every grip. Finally, Jammer breaks free. We are left looking like two gunfighters in a duel at high noon: the dog panting, sitting on one side of the chaise lounge and me, pissed off and looking like a hot mess on the other side of the chaise. It was time to bargain.

Me: Now listen, I'll give you a treat. Do you want a treat?

Jammer: [head cocked to the side, liking the sound of the word treat, proceeds to jump excitedly onto the chaise]

Me: I see you want the treat. You can't have it until you let me cut your other nails. Come here and sit down. [all this is said in my sweetest possible voice, though I'm sure it was said through clenched teeth and I was all the while prepared to lunge across the chaise and grab the bitch by the collar - literally, she's a bitch, I wasn't really being that derogatory]

Jammer: [turns head to other side, begrudgingly gets down from the chaise and sits next to me as if it was no big deal at all]

Me: You realize that if I weren't overjoyed by your agreement I'd be extremely pissed that you didn't just agree to letting my cut your damned nails, which I've been trying to do for 25 fucking minutes, before I mentioned the word treat.

Jammer: [again, looks at me because all she heard was "blah blah blah treat"]

I proceed to cut her nails while she sits unbothered. After I have finished she takes off like a rocket into the kitchen where the treats are stowed in a cupboard. She is no worse for the wear, while I am a sweaty mess of dress and flesh and dog hair. If this isn't considered parenthood, then you can go fuck yourself.

it has begun

I spoke on the phone to a very good friend last night. I friend from graduate school who once stayed with me in my one bedroom apartment for a while after her divorce. That is how good of a friend she is. This friend is now pregnant, and while I'm quite happy for her and her husband, it is marking new stage in my life as well. What is that stage, you ask? The stage where the friends I have chosen in my adult life are now choosing to create babies on purpose.

I don't dislike kids, I just dislike the thought of kids coming out of my body and then wanting me to take care of them. I like my nephews (more posting about the holiday weekend will follow when the thought of the events of the weekend stops making me throw up in my mouth a little). I am not worried about this particular friend changing as a result of the baby, but I do worry that I'm about to become that friend "who doesn't understand because she doesn't have kids."

I've had friends with children before, but they have always already had the children when we've become friends. And yet, I've still become "the friend who doesn't understand."

The question is, how do you "understand" when you are purposely protecting yourself to avoid ever having to "understand" what it is like to be a parent?


i love it when you call me big poppa

This week has been interesting in terms of children and the man. We attended a familial baptism party on Sunday for the man's cousin's spawn (yes, that was hard to follow). There was an abundance of children running around: not our idea of a fun time. The cousin's 3-year old kid, when asked if he knew the man's name, quickly called him"Daddy!" I was out of the room, but I guess it was quite humorous. At least for everyone other than the man. Then the kid realized it wasn't his dad and called the man by his name. Still, weird situation.

It is also evident that the man's father wants to be a grandfather. As the man's half-brother will not be impregnating anyone until they develop an XBox with a sex hole, the burden lies solely on us. Me and the man. Procreation. Needless to say, this is not going to be happening. I like my sex to be recreational. Anyway...the man's father keeps asking us when we are going to fill the house with kids and get rid of the roommate. Again, not going to happen. The roommate behaves like a child and that is about all we can bear. This event once again epitomizes the reasons why I don't enjoy the man's family gatherings.

As for awkward situations with family members, here's another: On my last visit to my parents, I was cornered by my dad and questioned in regard to "my future." Questions flew in regard to when the man would ask me to marry him, why he hasn't asked me yet, and how my dad can't die until I'm "settled." Keep in mind that my father is 54 years old and is in near-perfect health. I told him that if he plans on dying after I get married, I won't get married for another 35 years. Also, I reminded him that he raised me to be independent and not to need a man to support me...I guess that all backfired now that he wants more grandkids and a married daughter.

Did I mention that we are going to visit my parents and attend a family reunion for the 4th of July? Well, we are...with the side of the family who believes in marriage before sex. And despite me not knowing half of them, these distant relatives all seem to feel comfortable asking me when I'll get hitched. I think I'm going to laminate a sign and stick it to my back reading as follows:
  1. My name is Trish.
  2. The uncomfortable-looking guy standing next to me is my boyfriend.
  3. Yes, he's quite a bit older than I am.
  4. We live in sin.
  5. We like it.
  6. We don't know if we'll get married.
  7. We don't want kids. Even though I know we have the potential to make beautiful children.
  8. Note: If you talk about your kids, I'll talk about my cat and dog as if they are as important as your children.
  9. I graduated from college a couple years ago. I'm not done with my master's thesis yet.
  10. I have a job. I only like it sometimes.
  11. My boyfriend has a job, which he likes most of the time.
  12. Did you notice that my brother is here and he has two kids whom I'm sure he would love to talk about? Yes, you should go look for him.
I'm thinking the items above will cover all the normal questions that nosy family members like to ask. And, as an added bonus, I'm directing people to harass my brother, who has had the fortune of living out of the state and missing the last five family reunions. He must be punished.

It'll be nice to be home for a couple days and to see my brother and his family. I hope the man and I live through it.