...humbug?

I am bummed. 

(Which, for my UK readers, means I am sad, not that I was anally invaded, thankyouverymuch.)

Here's the thing. I want to whine a bit, because this is my blog. But I always feel so guilty whining, especially around the holidays, because I have so much for which to be grateful. And while I'm initially inclined to sit around and feel really sorry for myself (because poor me), there are people who have it so much worse and are so much more uplifting and nice and happy. Basically, they have a better attitude than I do. 

So. I am going to whine. A little bit. But I also want everyone to realize that I know how much worse it could be. And I am really grateful, so I will follow up my whining with a "thankful list." Is that okay?

I am bummed out because I started this Christmas season actually a little bit excited about the whole thing. Christmas is never my favorite time of year, but it seemed like everything was going pretty well. My aunt is in town to help out with my grandma, my parents' health is good, Michael is doing well...all seemed like it might shape up to be a normal Christmas (disasters of Christmasses past: emergency trip to NC on Christmas day to retrieve my ailing grandmother and bring her here to live, my dad being temporarily blinded by retinal detachment surgery, me having my wisdom teeth out, and the kicker, my grandpa passing on the 23rd). 

Then I wrecked my knee. 

Which wasn't really all that bad. I mean, it sucks, and it still hurts. But I didn't need to have surgery, so that's a good thing.

What really sucks about it is how long its taking to heal. Granted, I am two weeks out of my injury. They said it'll be about 8. I've got a LONG way to go still. But I am SO SICK of just lying around. Or going one place and being too tired out to continue running my errands and finishing my Christmas shopping. I don't like being physically frustrated when mentally, I'm ready to GO. 

This, of course, being the first year in ages that I haven't finished my Christmas shopping by Thanksgiving, I ended up having to order the remaining gifts on my list online. Which is a beautiful thing. Except for when they ship you the wrong item and in order to get the correct item in time for Christmas, you have to go to the physical store anyway, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid doing in the first place. 

This has happened. Twice. I still haven't made my final return and frankly, I'm not going to. Everyone can just deal with getting the rest of their presents after New Year's. 

THEN, I got sick. So now, I am sick, coughing, sniffling, not-sleeping, and achy. And my leg is still bad. My physical therapist ripped me a new one yesterday, so I'm sorer now than I've been in a long time. THANKS, GUYS. 

So even if I could muster up the energy (and swallow enough DayQuil) to go out and finish my things, my leg's too sore. And I'm hacking up a lung. 

I went back to work for like, 2 days and it was glorious. But apparently, two days is more than my ridiculously puny system can handle, so now I'm back to invalid status. 

*sigh*

I am very patient with others. It's a good trait. But I am ruthless with myself. I am angry with myself for getting hurt in the first place. I'm mad that the injury so lowered my immune system that I got sick on top of it. I'm mad that I went into shock and wasn't braver, and as a result I'm not producing enough serotonin and I feel depressed when I should be making jokes about the irony of the situation. I'm mad that I didn't get my Christmas shopping done sooner. I'm mad I don't make more money (which would have facilitated getting shopping done sooner). I'm mad that there's still time to make sure everything is perfect, and instead, I'm in bed, looking like hell, again. I'm mad I'll miss my family's Christmas dinner tomorrow because I had a blast seeing everyone on Thanksgiving. I'm mad I had to cancel meeting up with Bethany to exchange gifts. I'm mad I haven't seen The Hobbit yet and won't until probably after New Year's.

I'm just a little miffed. 

So, that's my whiny time. I'm just bummed because I tend to be a perfectionist. I want everyone to be healthy and happy on Christmas, with the perfect presents wrapped perfectly (I skimped on wrapping this year, too, because getting down on the floor to wrap is one thing. Getting up is an epic of Beowulf proprotion.). I feel like I'm letting down my friends and family by not getting to see them, like somehow they might think I'm making things up to get out of social things, which I'm not. 

Hopefully, this cold will pass without becoming bronchitis, and I'll feel halfway decent on Christmas. 

On to the Things For Which I Am Thankful:

-That I didn't need surgery.

-For Bixby, who literally makes me smile and/or laugh every day even if I feel crappy.

-For my parents, who are nice enough to let me live with them, assure me that Christmas will continue even if I don't do ALL THE THINGS, and are helping me and taking care of me.

-For my bed. I mean, if I'm going to be stuck somewhere on and off for a month at a time, it might as well be somewhere I love, right?

-For the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings DVD's, the special features of which I've been systematically watching while I'm down and out.

-For books, for keeping me sane.

-For the friends who've stopped by and brought cards, flowers, encouraging emails and texts. You guys mean everything to me, and I'm so grateful for your love and support and well-wishes.

-For my job. Here's how you know your boss is awesome: you call her from the emergency room to let her know what happened and her first question is, "Are you there alone? Do you need me to come over there?" Seriously, I was totally morphined up, but I almost cried. Secondly, they've allowed me to do some telecommuting from home, and have basically said, "make your own schedule while you're recovering." Thirdly, every single one of my co-workers got each other Christmas gifts, even if it was just little things from the Dollar Store or homemade cookies. It's just so sweet. Fourthly, when I came in earlier this week, they had literally moved my entire desk and workspace downstairs for me so I don't have to trudge up the stairs. Seriously??? My job is amazing, and I thank God every day for the people I work with and for allowing me to be there with them.

-For Christmas. Because even if it's not the perfect, soft-focus event I imagined in my mind, we're still allowed to celebrate it however we want to or can in this country. And I'm so glad I have a savior who reminds me every once in a while to be a Mary, not a Martha, and just sit at His feet and be in His presence, especially at this time of year. And it's okay to sit, and be still, and know that He is God. 

I took "shop till you drop" to a whole new level.

What happened to me yesterday is one of those things where I hope the only lasting after-effect will be a fantastic story. 

So, I don't really even know where to begin. I guess I'll go chronologically. 

I went shopping yesterday, because I had time and a gift card, and I was just looking for some cute wintry clothes. I'll just come out and say it, I was at Plato's, the one in Altamonte. So I'm in the dressing room. I had tried on a dress, a couple of shirts, and was finishing up trying on jeans. I was putting back on my own jeans when, and I have honest-to-God no idea what happened, I fell. I mean, I FELL. The floor is some kind of rubbery material, and I have a feeling I went to twist my leg to balance, and it didn't move, so I just ended up twisting my leg, and my knee absolutely gave out. I screamed. If you know me, you know I have a relatively high pain tolerance, and I hate drawing attention to myself, but this was easily the worst pain I've ever been in in my entire, short life. So I screamed, and I fell because I couldn't hold myself up. The lady in the dressing room next me goes, "Are you okay?" And the question was echoed by all the employees who had come running when they heard me. I was like, "NO!" The dressing room attendant asked if I could open the door, to which I very cleverly answered, "I'm not even dressed!"

This is the saddest part of this story, btw. I had no shirt on and my jeans were halfway pulled on. Because this happening fully dressed would not have been NEARLY embarrassing enough. 

So anyway, she's like, "I have the key, we're going to get you out." And my thoughts were all equal parts, "OMG they're going to see me with no clothes on," "OMG, my knee is bent," "OMG, this is exactly what happened to Chichi (my mom's gimp chihuahua)," and "OMG, I'm gonna faint." They did open the door, and I had purposely not looked down because I could feel my knee was all bent out of shape. All three of the girls who were there gasped when the door opened. And I said, again very cleverly, "I'm going to faint." 

Luckily, the dressing room attendant (who I later learned was the manager on duty) had EMT or paramedic training. Thank GOD she was there. Seriously, I have prayed over this girl so many times because the whole experience would have been about 50 times worse if she had not been there. She very calmly grabbed me by the shoulders, took me out of the dressing room, and laid me down flat. She's like, "Don't faint, you gotta stay with us," but she laid me out flat anyway, which was really spectacular. She got me some clothes to cover up with, which was like, the best thing ever. 

"The Winner Is" from the Little Miss Sunshine soundtrack was playing this whole time, btw, which is an odd memory to have, but from now on that's how I'll think of that song.

Anyway, Angel Girl (I don't know her name!) got me a cold cloth for my head (presumably to help with the whole not-fainting-from-pain thing), and she's like, "I'm gonna pull your jeans the rest of the way down because they're constricting the knee, but we've got stuff to cover you up." I think I just nodded. Or kept saying, "I'm sorry" like, over and over again. She got the jeans down over my busted up knee. And she was like, "Oooh, you did a number." I sneaked a glance and then thought I was going to faint again. 

I'm not posting a picture because a) my thought at that time was not "OMG SELFIE #IEFFEDUPMYKNEE!" so I have no pics, and b) it's super gross. But if you want to see what it generally resembled, click here at your own risk. 

They called 911, almost as soon as they heard me fall, which was amazing. But I was so scared. I'm pretty sure I've never been that scared in my life. Luckily Angel Girl sat next to me the whole time, and I was like, "What just happened?" She told me I had dislocated my knee pretty badly, and that an ambulance was on the way. I know nothing at all about medical things or injuries, so I'm like, "Is it broken? Is it even possible to break a knee? Do I need surgery?" And she very calmly answered me and said it was definitely dislocated, there could have been an internal fracture, and the paramedics would take me to Altamonte hospital. She asked if I was there with anyone, to which I wanted to be like, "If I was, don't you think they'd be here by now? I'm kind of making a scene." She had gotten my purse and clothes together and got me my phone. I tried calling my mom, but she was visiting my grandma and didn't have her phone on her. Luckily, my dad was at his office, which is about 10 or 15 minutes away, and I was like, "An ambulance is coming, please meet me at the hospital." The paramedics arrived just as I was finishing talking to him. What I really wanted to do was be like, "OMG COME NOW I AM SO SCARED!" but sometimes I try to be an adult. 

The paramedics come in and the one guy goes, "So, what are you doing?" And I answer, "I'm on the floor, naked, in Plato's Closet." He laughed and goes, "Well, you're not exactly naked," and they had some kind of ambulance blanket they covered me up with THANK GOD. Because having a store full of women see you in various states of undress is bad. Having 5 ripped guys you don't know see you in various states of undress (while lying on the floor with deformed appendages) is mortifying. 

They got an IV going and started me on morphine. I remember them trying to straighten out the leg, but I was like, "Guys, that's not gonna happen." So they upped my dose. Still no way they were able to straighten out my leg. Even with that much medication, I was absolutely still in pain. They finally gave me Versed, which I think knocked me out. If it didn't, I have literally no memory of what happened after that. 

I do know that they were awesome. I started going into shock and they were super nice and the one older guy held my hand and kept telling me I was doing fine and it was going to be okay, which is really what I wanted more than anything. Anyway, shout-out to Altamonte ambulance guys, you were AWESOME. 

I came to in the ambulance, and my leg had managed to go flat. The guy told me that the kneecap had been put back into place, and they were going to run x-rays at the hospital to make sure it was okay. They got me out and wheeled me into the hospital, where, HALLELUJAH! my Dad was waiting. I got a room, which was also nice, and then waited a couple of hours for them to do x-rays and everything. The whole afternoon is a little hazy after that. I remember trying to stay awake and coherent, but I felt really tired. Also, I have no idea what I may or may not have said, and that's probably a good thing because this whole story is already embarrassing enough without recollection of any drug-addled rambling that may have occurred. 

To complete my humiliation, I will only say two words: bed pan. 

Around 5, they checked me out. The x-rays came back okay, I guess. They gave me a leg brace and orders to stay on bed rest until I could get checked out by an orthopedic doctor, which won't be until Monday or Tuesday. So now I'm left with some humiliating memories, an incredibly sore knee, two people I'd like to thank and have no way to because I don't even know their names (Angel Girl and the Nice Paramedic), the threat that this may happen again (because apparently, that's common), and the promise of crutches and 6-8 weeks of physical therapy. 

I'll keep everyone updated, because I know this is an enthralling story. Ugh. The things I get myself into. 

Not getting to say Merry Christmas even though I'm a Christian? BOTHERED.

I'm the Queen of unpopular opinions. I just have a lot of them. I also don't care. 

This time, I want to talk about Christmas. 

Here's the deal. I am a practicing Christian (a Catholic, specifically), and I take offense to the fact that mainstream media and marketing are trying to eradicate the whole CHRIST aspect of CHRISTMAS.

This pisses me off every winter, but this year, it's a lot more prominent. I think it's because I do a lot of the PR work at the library, and I'm constantly being told to make it "less Christmassy, more holiday." 

Here's what doesn't make sense to me. I have no problem acknowledging Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, or whatever else your preferred winter holiday is. But it's a little stupid to me that we have to have "Winter Parties" and say "Happy Holidays" when Hanukkah ends on Thursday, and Kwanzaa doesn't start until December 26th. So basically, between Thursday and Christmas, the ONLY holiday that's actually actively available for well-wishing is Christmas. Unless you want to go around wishing people a Happy Solstice on the 21st, and if you do, go knock your socks off. Just expect a lot of raised eyebrows and inquisitive looks. 

I like that we live in a country where we have a wide variety of religions and their holidays. I think it's nice that we can all enjoy that freedom. That being said, this nation was founded on Christianity, and I think the Founding Fathers would have a heart attack if they saw the bastardization of the Constitution that's occurring right now. I also think that if you can't deal with the fact that the people who founded this country were what might be called "Bible thumpers," and our pledge has the word "God" in it, and our money says, "In God we trust," then you should leave. There are lots of other countries out there. Go find one that aligns with your personal beliefs. 

(SHPIEL: There's a lot of debate about the date of December 25th and "how does anyone know that's when Jesus was born?", but here's the deal. January 6th has always been celebrated as Epiphany, the day when the wise men visited. The church wanted 12 Days of Christmas (yes, like the song, I'm not making this up, go research), so they literally counted backwards and ended up at December 25th. Also, Christmas comes from the words "Christ mass" because when Christmas was officially made a holiday, there was only the Catholic church. There are a lot of different supposed reasons for the choosing of December 25th (nine months after the conception of Christ, incorporation of Sol Invictus into the church, etc.), but the date isn't important! Celebrating the incarnation of Jesus IS!)

And I get that we have to (and should!) acknowledge other religions, but I don't like it when that comes at the cost of eliminating MY religion. If everyone is going to be all "religious equality!" then how about we still acknowledge Christianity? I know they're not the minority, but we still need to acknowledge them. And the truth is, without Christians, there would be no Christmas! It's become secularized and if you want to adopt secular parts, that's fine. But you need to acknowledge that historically, there would be no Happy Holidays without Merry Christmas. 

And even the secular parts, like presents and decorating, have origins in the Christian traditions. So you can pretend to have "holidays" but you're basically wrong. And that's fine, like, if you don't want to believe that's fine. I feel sorry for you, but that's your choice. But don't just pretend like you invented everything and that Christians who want to celebrate are wrong and insensitive and all that. Because if we're all having equal rights, we have every right to say and celebrate Christmas. 

So I'll be saying Merry Christmas, and I hope you say it to me. And to my Jewish friends, I hope you're having an awesome Hannukah. I don't know anyone who celebrates Solstice or Kwanzaa, but if you do, hope they're nice. 

TLDR: I like equality, but I don't like it when that means that white people and Christianity get pooped on just because they're the majority. If you really want equality, then let's be EQUAL. 

End rant. 

Also, I hope I didn't actually offend anyone with my middle class, white girl, Christian ranting. 

The Passing of the Year

O Maiden! why that bitter tear?

     Is it for dear one you have lost?

Is it for fond illusion gone?

     For trusted lover proved untrue?

O sweet girl-face, so sad, so wan

     What hath the Old Year meant to you?

...

Some show a smile and some a frown;

     Some joy and hope, some pain and woe:

Enough! Oh, ring the curtain down!

     Old weary year! it's time to go.

-"The Passing of the Year," by Robert W. Service

Please don't laugh, but I'm completely depressed about turning 24 this weekend. 

When I was a little kid (roughly in 4th grade), it occurred to me that "24" was going to be an absolutely magical age. I was going to be "all grown up," with a house of my own, and a husband, and long beautiful hair. And I wanted a job (like my father's) to which I could carry a pink briefcase. This was the quintessential detail. But I remember thinking that yes, by 24 I was going to have it all very together. No kids yet (I had more sense than that, even as a child), but I wanted to be married, or close to it. 

And here I find myself on the edge of 24, and I have accomplished exactly none of that. Except that I could, I suppose, carry a pink briefcase to my job, but no one else carries a briefcase (and I'd prefer my purses anyway. Pink or otherwise). I don't have a house (or apartment) of my own. My hair's not long anymore (just cut it into a long bob), and the idea of getting married seems so small to me. It's like a pinprick of light in the dark. I can make it out, but it's so tiny it's barely noticeable. 

I can, however, drive, and that impresses my inner child very much. 

Please don't laugh and tell me I'm "so young" and that I "have so much time." I know I do. And I know I've accomplished a lot in my 24 years that many of my peers have not, and I am proud of those accomplishments. But the curse of the "old soul" is to always feel like time is running out, and to always be about 20 years ahead in your mind than you actually are in your body. 

My conclusion is that if I'm not going to severely disappoint 9 year old Mary, I need to get busy this year. *_~

"I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great, and would suffice."

I had a singular experience yesterday. 

I had to scrape ice off my car for the first time in my life!

I rushed out the door on my way to work (as I usually do on Monday mornings) and sat in the car, per usual.   My windshield was frosted over, but that's nothing new, as I always park outside. I flipped on the wipers, and...NOTHING HAPPENED. 

It wasn't just frost that covered my windshield. It was hard, cold, solidly frozen ICE. 

Having lived in Florida my entire life, I was absolutely baffled by this phenomenon. 

My first reaction when the wipers didn't work was

Then I decided, "Hey, I graduated college. I CAN FIGURE THIS OUT." So I did that little thing where you can spray water onto your windshield. I tried the blades again. NOTHING. At this point, I was like

My parents, both having lived up north for a good portion of their lives, weren't there to ask for help. My dad had looong since gone to work (tax season sucks for everyone, but especially for accountants) and my mom was asleep. I couldn't justify waking her for something as asinine as, "How do you get ice off your windshield?"

So, with a stroke of genius, I went inside and grabbed the squeegee from my shower. I had to WORK (like, I put my BACK into it) to scrape the ice, but it did come off. 

I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF!

"Don't clap." 

Then I had to take pics to document the whole affair, it being my first time and all. 

This was my sunroof!

The windshield, with an eerie-looking sun desperately trying to break through the ice. 

And after my handiwork. 

All I can say is, I'm unbelievably glad to live in a place where this happens once, maybe twice, in a person's lifetime. EWW. Bring on those 85 degree days!!

Happy New Whatever.

So, it's 2013. New Year's.

I actually dislike New Year's. I wish I was one of those people who scintillates optimism at the turning of the years, but I don't. I sit there and I'm like, "Okay. I'm another year older, another year I'm still not doing all the grand and glorious things I thought I'd be doing," etc. I just get down on myself because instead of being able to see the things I DID accomplish, I tend to notice the things that still lie beyond my grasp. 

I wish I saw New Year's like this, but mostly I see it like this:

I also dislike the making of resolutions, but I'll list the things I'd like to change anyway. For posterity and all. 

• Be more forgiving. Forgiveness is a theme that's been weighing heavily on my mind, and I can't seem to escape it (went to church this morning, and BOOM. The message was forgiveness). I'm such a bitter person (my name literally means "bitter," so I can't escape that, either). I'll hold a grudge until the day I die. I still get worked up about crap that happened to me IN MY CHILDHOOD, not to mention the more recent things. So this year, I want to work on forgiving and letting go of the things that still hurt me. I won't forget. Like Mr. Darcy, "My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever," but I can work on letting go of negativity that no longer serves me, and probably never did in the first place. 
• Write. I have stories that I absolutely NEED to finish. Especially one. I've conceived every part of it except the title. And actually, it goes along a lot with the forgiveness. Writing is therapeutic, but like therapy, it's hard. Writing, particularly what I want to write, is like drawing venom from a wound. The story is boiling over, seething from every pore, and I need to get it out, no matter how unpleasant the experience may be. By this time next year, I'd like to have it finished. 
• All that stuff about being more fiscally responsible and eating better and exercising more. Who doesn't make these resolutions, though? If intention could make me thin, healthy, and rich, I'd be freaking Scarlet Johansson (without the nude pics). Alas. 

Clearly, I'm fighting with my pessimistic self. When people ask, "Are you an optimist or a pessimist?" I never really know how to answer. "Recovering pessimist" seems to work most times. But I'm relapsing on the day of the year when you're supposed to be most optimistic. Forgive me for not being all glittery and excited, but I do sincerely hope that the New Year brings all of us what we're looking for. And if it doesn't, then I hope we're at least a little enriched by the journey of searching all the same. 

Would you like some cheese with your holiday whine?

 

So, a while back I wrote a post about what I missed and didn't miss about being in school.

Let me amend that post by saying the thing, so far, that I am most upset about is the complete and utter lack of any sort of winter/holiday/Christmas break!

People prepare you for the reality of no summer break, but this just completely bums me out. I want to try and be excited for the hols, but it's almost impossible knowing that I get, literally, ONE day off, that being Christmas day. I have to work Christmas Eve and December 26th (because in the US, Boxing Day doesn't count). And I shouldn't be such a whiny, petulant child, but...

I am used to having like, a week and a half at the VERY least to just lounge about in my jammies and cozy socks, read so many books my eyes feel like they'll fall out of my head, "play" with all my new stuff (here meaning "clean out your closets and bathroom and rearrange everything" and "use ALL the new soap"), watch Christmas movies, go light-looking, drink hot chocolate like it's my job...

...and this year, I just feel like I have no time for that. This is the first time in YEARS that my shopping's not been done by Thanksgiving. I'm especially bothered that I won't have time to wrap all my presents the way I like to, and I certainly won't have time to do any wrapping for the neighbors. Just BLAH, guys. This would be a great time for me to be Scroogey, but I promised I'd try and LIKE Christmas this year, and it's just hard when you feel like Bob Cratchit. 

Look, it's my blog and I'll whine if I want to. Maybe I'll feel better now that I've aired my grievances to the internet public. My aim is to be grateful this season. I want to focus being grateful that I have a job at all when a lot of people don't, and that I have an opportunity to work when I could have nothing. Because I am grateful for those things. It's just a matter of perspective. And growing up and out of "school mode." Give me time, okay? I spent 20 years as a student, that's kind of a hard schedule to break out of in less than a year. 

Perspective, perspective, perspective....

So what I told you was true...from a certain point of view.

"Be not afeared, the Isle is full of noises."

So, I thought I should share my thoughts about the Olympic opening ceremony. 

Actually, I think I feel about it the way the Queen looks. 

(Btw, I wish everyone would back off about her looking so pissed off. Let's be real. She had been up since the crack of dawn meeting foreign dignitaries, attending luncheons and giving speeches all day. Then it's late at night, and she's EIGHTY FREAKING SIX. I'm 23 and that's how I look at 10 at night. So cut her some slack.)

I just expected it to be more...traditional, I guess. I would've loved to see a Scottish Tattoo or some Irish step-dancing (because let's be real: mass amounts of people synchronized in tap shoes with no arm movements is totally mesemerizing)--things that are unique to the U.K. Or even if they'd done a history of sport in the U.K., starting with the Celts riding horses in blue paint, then moving on to the Scottish games (caber tossing, anyone?), and knights and archery and jousting, and Renaissance dance (and Regency dance because let's face it, that Austen stuff is way sexier than today's dancing), and traditional English fox hunting and then ending with football/soccer and the Olympics.

OR they could've gone literary, starting with Beowulf and Chaucer, moving on to Shakespeare (um, duh?), Jonathan Swift, then Dickens, Austen, Carroll, Wilde, and of course, ending with Gaiman and Rowling. Although, I was pleased that they mentioned Alice in Wonderland, Harry Potter and Mary Poppins. And actually HAD J.K. Rowling there to read from Peter Pan. Swoon!

ALSO: while I am thrilled that there was basically a worldwide sing-a-long for "Hey Jude" (I might actually have died if I'd been present), I'd like to point out that England produced a LOT of other musicians. I mean, Ringo is still out there! It would've been so cool to have a British rock medley, and have Ozzy, Bowie, Siouxsie, whoever's left of the Sex Pistols or the Ramones, Keith Richards, Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney, and anybody else who cares to join in do a joint concert. Would've been SO BADASS. 

Not to mention British actors, but we just won't even go there.

I did like the Industrial Revolution bit, however, it was a little theatrical for me.

I don't know. The whole show just felt too artistic for me. It felt like...if Les Miserables and Blue Man Group had a lovechild, it would've been the London Opening Ceremonies. I don't know. If that had been an American Opening Ceremony, I would've been like, "Oh, of course." But there are so many things that are unique to the history and culture of the U.K., and I guess I just wanted to see more of that. 

The lines Kenneth Branagh read from "The Tempest" fit perfectly, so A+ on that, England!

So anyway, that's how it would've gone down if I'd been in charge. Which obviously, I was not.

Oh, life, it's bigger than you and you are not me.

Tonight's one of those nights where I fully intend to overdose. On R.E.M. To the point of having Michael Stipe poisoning in my system. 

So how is my life, you might ask?

   

Dull. Very dull, which is why I haven't blogged a lot lately. I keep meaning to do it more. And I've come really close to posting an "I'm taking an indefinite hiatus from blogging post" but I can't bring myself to do it. I always think of like 12 consecutive posts right after I contemplate stopping. So I'm going to keep going. At a very glacial pace. That's okay though. I'd rather make fewer posts with stuff people might actually care to read about as opposed to a lot of fluff.

Work is okay. It's very time-consuming, this "adulthood" business. And it leaves very little scope for the imagination. However, it's merely a stepping-stone on the way (to wherever it is I'm going), which is why I took the job in the first place. 

Everyone says (and by "everyone" I mean self-actualized 19 year olds and self-help gurus) that in order to be happy you have to do something fulfilling, something that you're passionate about every day. Here's my problem: I have no idea what fulfills me or what I'm passionate about.

Things I Might Be Passionate About:

-animals

-reading

-Sherlock Holmes

-Harry Potter

-Halloween

-intense, fictional romances with characters who never existed

-gif files

-cake

-Conan O'Brien

That's really about it. And I doubt I can make a career out of decorating for Halloween, eating cake, cuddling puppies and watching Conan while posting copious amounts of gif's. But it sure would be nice! Anyway, I have a huge list of things I know I don't want to do with my life. Just none on the other side of the column. I'll figure it out one day, I'm sure. Probably I'll just fall into doing it and wake up one day realizing that I love what I'm doing.

Despite all that, I do really, sincerely feel that I'm where I need to be at this point in my life. So I'm just trying not to whine too terribly much and go along for the ride. 

Sorry for the lack of consistent/interesting posts, and thank you so much to everyone who still reads!

You've lost your muchness.

(Image credit with help from PhotoFunia.)

I feel as though, lately, I've lost my muchness. I can't really describe what "muchness" is, but I think everyone has a general idea of what it means to them.

I've been coasting lately. I'm terribly complacent with my life, which isn't the most terrible thing ever, but I dislike it. I don't like feeling just "okay." The other day I was trying to verbalize what was wrong or missing in my life, and the word that came to mind was "inspiration." There is nothing around me that inspires me. I'm stuck listening to the same old songs, seeing the same few people, going the same places...there is very little "scope for the imagination," as Anne of Green Gables put it.





I figured with my lack of inspiration, and therefore decent blog posts worth reading, it was time for me to be completely honest with you, my readers. I feel like lately my blog's been a lot of BS, and I HATE that because when I started it I never wanted it to end up at that place. And it has.

When I started this blog, I made two Cardinal Rules which were never to be broken:
1. Do not blog about family.
2. Do not blog about work.
I've held to those pretty well. I don't write about family (apart from the odd mention or quote here and there) because I love them, and my extended family reads this, too, and I'd hate to inadvertently offend or overexpose someone. Also, it's really none of your business whatsoever what my family does.
And I NEVER complain about work on this blog unless it's something that I've brought to my boss's attention. If you can't bring a complaint to the higher-ups, then you either have a) a crappy boss or b) an illegitimate complaint. I know people who've complained online about their jobs and then promptly lost them. And I DON'T want that to happen to me.

Herein lies the problem: my life, right now, is centered around family and work. My friends all live far away, so I rarely get to hang out with them even though we talk daily. The only places I really go are work, church, and errand-running. I have an incredibly active imagination which usually serves me very well as far as inventing things to write about. But lately, my imagination has been dormant. I imagine it to be like a fat guy who hasn't had the proper diet and exercise--it's there, it's just being terribly lazy and not getting the right treatment. Which is all my fault.


We've also had some trying times family-wise which have taken up a lot of my time and mental space right now. I won't get into the nitty-gritty, but on Christmas Day, we got a call that my grandma had been admitted to the hospital in North Carolina. She's lived alone on a mountain since my grandpa died 15 years ago, so we've always been concerned. The day after Christmas, my Mom and Dad drove up and brought her back here, presumably to live with us. After a day or so, she had another bad turn and ended up in the hospital here. She was just released on Tuesday into a nursing and rehabilitation center down the road. She won't be returning to NC and will probably be in this area in some sort of assisted living facility for the rest of her life.

This, naturally, has been extremely trying for my family. However, I feel better about her being here. As she gets older, it's simply not SAFE for her to be alone in a massive forest (it's not safe for anyone, really, regardless of age), and it'll be better for her to be here getting the care she needs and deserves. Also, we get to see her more, which makes us all happy. :)
But it has been hard the last couple of weeks, especially on my mom. If I've been quiet around here it's because I've been doing all I can to help out my family. Seriously, I'll be 23 in two months and I don't pay rent. The least I can do is help out.

I've also been fighting the world's most epic flu/sinus infection during all of this. I had a fever of about 101 for three days straight and felt absolutely MISERABLE--like, to the point where I couldn't even watch TV. You KNOW you're sick when you can't even rot your brain properly.

So that's why things have been quiet here in the Sea of Snark. I beg your understanding, dear Readers. I know you're a forgiving lot. :)




So ANYWAY, while I don't condone making New Year's Resolutions, my resolve this year (in between looking for a career to jump-start my so-called adult life, helping my family through their transitional time, and generally being awesome) is to find something I'm really passionate about. It'll probably be something totally stupid. But if it makes my heart race when I'm doing it and if I think about it when I'm not, I'll know I've found it. I want to find something that inspires me; something that inspires me to write again.

I thank you all for bearing with me on this journey and for reading my blog even through the awful dry patches. You guys are the BEST and I appreciate each and every one of you!


For further reading, Miss Gala Darling has, once again, a perfectly timed article on regaining your "spark." Or, "muchness" as the case may be. ;)

(Image credit.)

Alas poor Yorick, I knew him well.

I have to apologize for the absolutely abysmal quality of this blog lately. Like, it sucks. I don't even know why anyone would want to read it. I don't want to read it, and I write it. Blah.

I just really don't feel like I have anything cool or interesting to report! People are like, "Oh hey! What's new with you?" and I'm like, "Nothing." Really, NOTHING. I go to class, I do my homework, I read inordinate amounts of words the volume of which humans were probably never meant to ingest, and I mess around helping around the house and doing crap with Bixby. Like, that's IT.

Not that I'm miserable about it or anything. I feel pretty good about my life. It's just highly unpublishable.

I honestly feel like it's the calm before the storm. In a matter of less than 12 weeks, I'll be, for the first time in my life, well and truly DONE with school. It's like the lightsaber fight between Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi.
Everything in my life has led up to that point, so wtf am I supposed to do when it's done? I imagine I'll have many whiny, Hamlet-esque posts at that point about "WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF LIFE??" and such things (I might even procure a skull and name him "Yorick" for such times).

So although things are dull as toast right now (an unfair simile in my opinion, since toast is delish, especially with Nutella), it's okay with me. I just feel terrible because it makes for heinous blog reading. So bear with me and my lame posts about Conan O'Brien and Harry Potter and stuff. I promise I'm working on ideas of things to write about which might be amusing in the slightest. I'm open to suggestions too, of course.
:)

It's not you, Facebook, it's me.

I'm taking an indefinite leave of absence from Facebook. There's really no reason other than I'm just bored of the information overload. And I pretty much only talk to like, 10 people, so they can email me.

Also, this. ^

And EVERYONE is welcome to my blog. So just leave comments or something if you're having Mary withdrawals. It's trying, I know.

I'll be moving my status-like updates to Twitter, so you should get an account if you don't already have one. Even though I hate mine. Whatever. It's the PRINCIPLE of the thing. Follow me @eatdrink_bemary. Email me at mkdaniels@knights.ucf.edu if you need to get a hold of me--that's probably the best way.

But mostly I'll be lurking around here in the Sea of Snark. :)

My life according to snarky cartoons.

What's New With Me:

-It's the most wonderful time of the year for both accountants and students, which happens to be DOUBLY wonderful if you're both. Between the 15th on Friday (and all the extensions afterwards...) and finals coming up, I am quite, quite busy.



-That being said, when I am stressed or emotionally whatever, sleep is always the first thing to go. Needless to say, I am tired from like a week of really poor sleep (when it finally decides to grace me with its presence). My only solution, to both the sleeplessness and the stress, has been MOAR KICKBOXING, which in turns tires me out and makes me feel better. There's just something about punching the air with everything you've got. *eyeroll*


-I have a bunch of papers due. One is on marriage in 18th century England and how Elizabeth Bennet manages to defies those expectations. One is about Persuasion. Another consists of me making future lesson plans using nothing but the rather bland curriculum of my Renaissance lit class (there are only so many sonnets). Another has to do with current educational issues, like "how substitute teachers should exercise authority over their classes" and "are school lunches responsible for the obesity epidemic?" And finally, I have a group project on an undetermined topic. You can imagine my excitement.


-In happier news, I love Bethany Lehman.


^^Because I do this to her A LOT. ;D

-I went for the first of my advisory meetings today regarding graduation, and, oh my Lord, to my great surprise, everything looks like it's ON TRACK. *cue Hallelujah chorus* I'd do a happy gif spam, but I'll save it for when I actually graduate. Anyway, I have to take 5 classes this summer then THAT'S IT, BABY: I AM DONE!!!!


-Those five classes are so lame and as of right now are
1. Caribbean Literature (lol wtf?)
2. Literature and Pop Culture (actually excited about this)
3. Medieval Humanities
4. The Evolution of Video Games (Mario FTW!)
5. Professional Writing (including, but not limited to, reports and memos! GET EXCITED.)
I am technically done with all the credits for my major. I need upper level classes in any subject. I really wanted to take a psych class called "Human and Animal Relationships" but you needed the gen ed psych as a pre-requisite. I took anthropology instead. Meh. Anyway, busy summer, but I can't wait.


-I whine about being busy, but I secretly like it. Like today, I went and did schoolwork in the library. It has been the highlight of my week so far.


-I signed Bixby up for classes at PetSmart. We start Sunday. :))) Also, he turns one next Thursday (!!!).


In closing:

and


:)

"For in dreams we enter a world that is entirely our own."

{Photo Credit}

My life has become utterly boring.

I'd like to blame this on a few things:
a) All of my friends are either busy leading real lives or they don't live near enough to me for us to engage in shenanigans
b) I only go to school 1 day a week and work minimal hours at the world's dullest job
c)...I'm sure I had a third reason, but it escapes me at the moment.

This new era in dullness has, unfortunately, seeped its way into my blog. This is why I could never be paid to write. Because one week I'm exploding with ideas and things to say, and the next, I enter into an inescapable dry spell which lasts, in this case, MONTHS.

I didn't even remember to properly celebrate my blog's bday this past January. How sad! I'll celebrate the 1.5 milestone in June, I suppose.

So, what have I been doing? Well, school, generally. Some kickboxing and zumba. Dreaming up ways I'd love to decorate an apartment WHEN I finally get one. Wishing to God I had a degree and could start trying to find a job and be a "real" person. Imagining lesson plans I'd like to teach future students one day far off in the future. Wishing I had an endless source of money and knowing I'd be no happier with it even I did. Wondering how girls like Kate Middleton manage to bag a prince and if there are steps one can take to accomplish the same. ;) Reading. I'm always reading. But at least this semester I'm reading loads of Jane Austen, which feels like pleasure but is actually work. So I'm quite alright with that.

My two favorites remain Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. For those of you who've read them, or who might read them, scratch the prince sentiment above: I want Colonel Brandon. :)))

My education courses are teaching me NOTHING (although I did get invited by one girl in my class to a "pleasure party," whereupon I found out that this is a kind of party in which a representative from an "adult emporium" comes to one's house, pedals their wares, and games are played with said wares. It concerns me that this girl will one day be teaching my kids and their friends...), but thankfully, there are plethora of books teaching one how to teach. I will read these later, when I'm finished being a lit major and having massive heaps of required reading.

Speaking of required reading, I think my eyes are going bad. I've had my glasses about four years and all of a sudden, they've stopped working. Which means I can read for about an hour before I get these lovely, skull-splitting headaches. I have an appointment this Thursday. Let's hope I'm not as blind as I sometimes feel.

Also, in one of my "side readings" (the things I read on the side), I read about an 18th century account of the condom. It was pretty hysterical, actually, until I realized that I was sitting in my house, alone, laughing so hard I was crying over pig intestine condoms tied up with pink satin ribbon (it's official. I'm a 12 year old boy when it comes to that stuff).

But seriously, there was a guy named DOCTOR CONDOM. I CAN'T be the only one who finds that amusing, right????


*sigh*
Anyway. This is a snapshot of my life at this moment. I apologize to my regular readers for the lack of quality material lately. Give me some time, ask me questions, give me some suggestions. Tell me I'm a berk for all I care. Just bear with me through "the dry spell." I've got a couple things in my snarky back pocket, just in case. ;)

Baby it's COLD outside!

At least it's not 1901.

To say that the last few days have been insane would be putting it mildly.

My grandmother is in town. I won't say anything else on the subject, because (especially on the internet) if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

What IS nice is that I get to see her. She lives alone in NC so we seldom get to see her, and she rarely gets a real Christmas. She doesn't even decorate her place. She goes to church and comes home and makes a TV dinner and then opens the gifts we've mailed her on Christmas morning. It makes me feel much better knowing that she got to help us decorate the tree and will have a real Christmas with family. Because that's, I think, how Christmas ought to be done.

School is done, and I couldn't be happier. It's so nice waking up in the morning and knowing you don't actually HAVE to read or write or do anything school related. I enjoy zero obligation (Psychoanalysts: have at it.).

In other news, my wisdom teeth are giving me hell. I asked if I could keep the X-rays because I wanted to post them on here (THE FIRST AMENDMENT SAYS I CAN POST WHATEVER I WANT, OKAY??), but they wouldn't let me have them. Anyway, the bottom left one is coming in at an impossible angle and it's pretty much excruciating. It usually flares really bad like twice a month, but this time it'd been like 6 days and it was getting WORSE. So I did some reading (thanks, WebMD!) and pretty much determined that it was most definitely infected. So I talked with the oral surgeon, who confirmed my diagnosis (yes!) and gave me some antibiotics. I was supposed to have them out on Jan. 5th, but he's like, "We definitely need those out ASAP, or you're gonna get abscesses and all other kinds of nastiness." He wanted to do it this week, but it's way too swollen and he said they won't do it while it's infected because they don't want to spread the bacteria. So I have a week of pills (and this heinous RX mouthwash. Oh. My. GOD. I have never had the utter displeasure of something so VILE in my mouth in all my days. It is POISONOUS.) and then off with their little toothy heads!

Unfortunately, my surgery is on the 23rd. I'm not too bothered by it because it's an excuse to be logy and grumpy on Christmas. I jest. But really, not a big deal. EXCEPT. This will be the second year in row that I haven't had Christmas dinner and church with my family. Last year, I had to work Christmas Eve night in the candy store, so I got McDonald's and went to midnight mass alone (my family had Outback. JEALOUS.). This year, I'll be laid up with gauze in my mouth to keep the air from sucking blood clots from the massive, gaping cavities in my mouth. Needless to say, no Christmas dinner. And no dressing up for mass. POO!

Oh well. In the grand scheme of things, it could be a lot worse. My grandpa (husband of aforementioned grandma) had a heart attack on the 23rd fourteen years ago and died. Suddenly, bitching about my wisdom teeth seems incredibly petty.



PS: BRR!!!

I look at all the NOSY people.

I feel like Edward Scissorhands a lot.

To my Nosy Neighbors: While I find it flattering that I am the topic of your conversation (even if such conversation is vicious and fictitious; I've always maintained it's better to be talked about, even negatively, than ignored completely), please keep your noses out of my business. I must, however, congratulate you on your creativity. How utterly imaginative of you to suspect that the scratches and dents on my car are the result of some wreckless collegiate driving, or a possible DUI. However, I must insist that to be truly imaginative, you need to suspend disbelief. Therefore, your story isn't even probable, because I'm responsible, a teetotaler, and the victim of a hit-and-run.

To the Men Working in my House: I can't really nag at you too much, I suppose, since you're being paid to be here and you are fixing my house. However. Please keep your conjectures about my whereabouts and activities to yourselves. Or if you must discuss, have the decency to do so out of earshot. Which would be off my property (sitting on a smoke break beneath my window doesn't count). I do not, contrary to popular belief, simply lie in bed all day, only leaving to go clothes shopping. I am up every morning at 7:30, whenceupon I walk my dog, breakfast, and get dressed. I usually, at that point, start doing something mildly productive. The reason you haven't seen me leaving this week is that I've been quite sick with a disgusting head cold. If you'd shut your mouths and OBSERVE something for a change, you might've noticed. And just because I stay upstairs, out of your way, doesn't mean that I lie in bed for hours and hours. I've been working on a paper discussing the symbolic settings of Bronte novels in tandem with Freud's psychoanalytic literary theories (namely those of dreams and suppressed vs. manifested meanings). So please. Quit telling my mother that she ought to get me out of bed. I wasn't there to begin with.

To Acquaintances Who Question Every Motive: In this age of information, I have a Facebook, a Twitter and a blog. If I wanted to publicize every iota of my life, I'm sure I could find a means of doing so.


Guys. I appreciate the fact that I'm so incredibly fascinating that you can't help discussing me every second of your mundane lives. But really? GIVE IT A REST AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

"Leverage," says you. "I think I feel a change in the wind," says I.

I feel like, right now, I'm stuck between points A and B. I'm not where I was and so I can't go back, but I'm not yet where I'm going and so it's hard to move forward. I mean, I know I'm moving forward. But I guess I can't tell. Like being on a moving sidewalk--I don't feel like I'm moving because my feet aren't moving, but I'm being slowly ushered ahead anyway.

I don't mind it, I guess. It just gets tiring sometimes, wondering what the ultimate outcome will be. We all technically have a plan. Sometimes it just gets hard to see if you're actually accomplishing it when you're the one trudging through. Perspective, perspective, perspective...


Not knowing is half the adventure, I suppose. I should probably just shut up and enjoy the present while I can, because you never know when you might actually be in "the good ol' days."

TL;DR: I'm tired. And I'm not sure where this is all going, but I'm equal parts excited and terrified to find out.

And we lived beneath the waves in our Yellow Submarine.

Last night, around 9PM, our house absolutely FLOODED.

I mean, it was INCHES deep. About up to my ankles. Here's the odd part: it was the downstairs toilet that flooded, but no one had used it ALL DAY. We have no idea why. Apparently, it was just running and overflowed. Massively.

Dad, Mom, Michael and I swept like maniacs (Michael kept singing "What Do You Do With a Drunken Sailor?" much to my dad's chagrin, lol) trying to get the water out, but we only have ONE broom. And we saturated every towel in the house.

The water flooded my bathroom, the kitchen, my ex-bedroom/guest room, the laundry room and half of the living and dining rooms. Basically, the whole downstairs except for my parents' room.

My pretty Halloween bathroom =(


The dining room:

Bixby's like "Wtf??"

The laundry room:


Our living room (aka: the stuff receptacle):


And our kitchen:


My mom is heartbroken. None of our kitchen appliances work except the fridge and the microwave. The insurance guys were here until almost 2:30AM last night, and they put all those massive fans in (I think we have about 20 going constantly) to try and get the moisture out. But he said it's pretty much too late. He said we have tens of thousands of dollars worth of water damage and if we're LUCKY the house will be back to normal in 3-6 months. Which means from now until like, Christmas, the house is going to be kind of a disaster.

More insurance and demolition people are coming out today to give more estimates and tear out more water damaged areas. They've already torn up the kitchen and some of the wood floors (all of them will have to be replaced eventually). All of the cabinets and faucets will have to be replaced in the kitchen, laundry room and my bathroom.

And the fans are SO LOUD. I tried to make a sound file for you but it just sounded like white noise on a bad TV station. Know this: that noise is a thousand times less annoying than the fans. And they have to run CONSTANTLY from now until Thursday. I feel bad for my parents because the fans go right up to their bedroom. At least Michael and I can go upstairs and shut our doors.

Also, it's good I moved up here last summer, because otherwise my entire bedroom would be destroyed. That room received the most damage. I couldn't even get in to take a pic, that's how bad it was.

The dogs are horrified (Chichi especially, lol) and terribly confused.


It's pretty sucky.

Anyway, that's what's new with me! I will keep taking pics and keep you guys posted on what's going on.


La la la...

I'm bothered.

http://robertisbothered.com


"Robert is Bothered" is the best late night bit I've seen in forever. Especially when Rob Pattinson himself makes an appearance and is bothered by Jimmy Fallon playing him being bothered.

JUST WATCH IT.

Well, I was in the bookstore the other day and I had the heinous misfortune of seeing the following, and I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs in Fallon's crummy Queen's English, "I'M BOTHERED."





And this one's the last straw:



BOTHERED.

This is so ridiculous. I mean. I guess I can't be all angry, because Twilight did mention all three books by name and led otherwise literarily deprived young women to read these awesome books. BUT RE-COVERING THEM TO LOOK LIKE TWILIGHT?!?

NO!

NOT NECESSARY.

SHAKESPEARE WOULD NOT APPROVE AND DON'T FOR ONE MINUTE BELIEVE JANE AUSTEN WOULD, EITHER. SHE WROTE ABOUT TWIHARDS BEFORE THEY EVEN EXISTED IN NORTHANGER ABBEY. BUT YOU WILL PROBABLY NEVER KNOW THAT BECAUSE THE COVER LOOKS LIKE THIS
NOT THIS.



So, here's the deal. I liked the Twilight series. But I love these books even more. And it really BOTHERS ME that publishers figured, "Why yes, if we re-cover them using flowers and ribbons in a black, white and red theme, CLEARLY they will sell better." I feel like this cheapens the integrity of the words INSIDE the cover. Because Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights both vie for my all time favorite book. I guess this just made me sad that people won't even consider reading the classics unless it's revamped (no pun intended) to be rife with pop culture.



/end rant.



In other news, I think my foot is getting worse. Furthermore, my other foot is starting to hurt now, too, because I'm favoring it.

I am blaming ALL OF THIS on my lactose intolerance. If I could drink a glass of milk every single morning like I WANT TO, I wouldn't have such crummy bones. And feet.

Anyway, now I'm super paranoid that I'm going to cause a stress fracture in the other foot, and I super don't want TWO messed up feet. This of course can be remedied if I like, stopped working. Which I don't want to do. But I think I may have to talk to them about my hours and stuff, because I really don't want to be in a cast once school starts.

Also depressing: the only thing I can wear with the hideous walking boot are long dresses and peasant skirts. I perpetually look like pregnant Gwen Stefani or a crazy religious fanatic, like the Duggar family. I know they're unflattering for me. But what am I supposed to do? Wear skinny jeans and tuck them into the boot? Not so much.


Needless to say, I'm a little frustrated about the whole thing.


Okay, now /end rant.