eating crow and loving it

Sorry I've been quiet for a while.

I... well, I've spent the last week having a quiet panic attack. Yes, a week-long low-level panic attack. And, yes, such a thing is possible — I have been a nervous wreck. And the anxiety has been so out of proportion to the problem that I thought about calling my doctor to beg for my anxiety meds again, but I really just wanted to get through it normally. But it's been ridiculous.

The story is not up to the lead-in, which is kinda the point in terms of the anxiety being out of proportion. ANYWAY (damn, quit rambling), my righteous anger about the work problem kinda came to a screeching halt when I discovered that I had totally fucked up on something. And I was FREAKING OUT that this problem would cast in doubt everything else I had done. Like I was terrified to be busted.

The anxiety was so over the top that I thought about little else. It was kind of like the Thanksgiving drive home where I realized I shouldn't sell the house. I've begun to recognize that level of anxiety as a sign that I've gone in a wrong direction somewhere. So I really spent time thinking about this whole work thing, and I realized that the big fuck-up last week wasn't the only one. I made a whole bunch of mistakes through the whole project. And I saw some places where I totally had been thinking like a designer and not thinking about the client's perspective. Instead of being defensive I thought again about what my boss had been saying... and I saw some merit in it.

So, mentally I had to eat some crow. It, strangely, totally made me feel better.

Last week G and I were talking, and she made the point that some things you don't learn until you've been burned. And I've been burned, but I really need to own it and learn from it.

I've been thinking about last year when my anxiety disorder was through the roof. I was on Effexor and xanex AND *ahem* self-medicating and I was still a basket case. And it was from my marriage being whack and my being unable to see it, or at least admit it. Good lesson for me: if something is freaking me out I need to listen to myself.

Anyway, sorry, is anyone here for my low-rent psycho babble?

Actually, is anyone here at all? :)

I thought Nash was fat.

dreamy and steamy

My boss asked me to reconstruct the photo shoot planning to use as ammo with the client to get more money. So I went through my notes and my emails and so am freshly outraged about the client / boss slamming me for costs. Dude, I had TWO shoots where I had to reschedule photography itineraries more than 3 times (I mean, changing airline tickets more than 3x. The actual shoots got flipped around more than I can count). Wonder why it ended up costing so much? Maybe because their employees couldn't narrow a window on the time frame more than 24 hours in advance, and even then kept pushing it back.

Anyway, I'm supposed to write up a memo, and the research for it has me so riled up I can't write the actual email. Plus my brain hurts from figuring out dates and trying to remember everything that happened.

Sigh.

Anyway, it's dreary and rainy and I'd rather not be here anyway.

I had a nice weekend. A sickeningly lazy weekend, but nice. I seriously couldn't get my act together to get anything done, and my house needs some loooove. I have to get it together so I can get a roommate. (I'm aiming for April 1, by the way. Everyone keep an ear out for anyone who wants to move in with me. I'm cool (well, something like that)! The house is cool!)

And how good is Grey's Anatomy? I love that show SO MUCH. How much? Well, last night I watched it live — I actually sat through commercials. And y'all: even if the show wasn't excellent I'd watch it for the eye candy: damn, there are some yummy men on this show. McDreamy's, well, dreamy, Burke is tasty (the dance scene last night was hysterical), our new McSteamy: dude, KEEP that shirt off. And even George is getting delectible: those eyes! I can't believe how cute he's getting. He needs to stay away from Meh, though.

(Aside: I guess I'm living out Izzy's "You know when you don't have sex for a long time you kind of forget how much you need it?" thing. I am a damn sex camel, and I'm into a long-ass drought.)

Speaking of no sex, I'm going to H's tonight for dinner and to check on Eepie. And I found out another nice thing about living separately: he and I had a big fight Saturday on the phone. When we lived together I'd always give in to the silent treatment. This time, it was very easy not to do the smoothing-things-over thing when I didn't have to see him, and today he wrote with an apology. So, yay! I win! (kidding, slightly)

Get the ho! Down!

So I went to thestate.com, you know, I do that every once in a while to keep up with the Columbia news (plus, gawd, pouting at work really saps the work ethic). I saw a headline for a prostitution bust, and I got all excited thinking it might be related to my sister — she went undercover as a prostitute recently (she did!).

But it was Lexington County, not _____, where my sister works. (Don't know if it matters, but I'm playing it safe.) ANYWAY (Jim used to call me the queen of the non sequiturs), the name of the sting was, without comment in the local press, "Operation Hoe-Down."

Seriously.


I'm just trying to imagine the press conference. Do you think they even TRIED to keep a straight face?

Thursday's all right for fighting

Wow. I'm really starting to feel better. Therapy helped with the urge to bitchslap my boss into next week. It's starting to feel normal at home. I'm going to work on the house all weekend. And I think I'm going to go out this weekend.

And it's warm! I love warm! When the temperature goes above 60 I am happy happy happy.

And it was so nice to work late yesterday to go outside and see that it's still light out at 6:30. Spring's coming, bitches!

So... I haven't talked to my boss about the situation last week. At this point I don't even want to talk to him at all. I think it's that my opinion of him has dropped so much that I don't even feel like bringing him 'round to my way of thinking (that last part's (almost) a song lyric! And! I can't! remember! who? it's on the tip of my tongue... Um. Um. OH! Urge Overkill!).

He also pissed me off when... Okay, let me start at the beginning. I saw that on the schedule one of my books goes on press March 3, which is exactly the weekend my sister wants to come to town. So I asked: am I going on press for my book? I need to know because my sister wants to ask for that Friday off to come for a three-day visit. (This is where I got pissed.) His reply: "I don't know yet. I won't know until that week. I need you to be flexible on that."

Um, okay, THAT's totally considerate.

No more bitching about the boss. Will stop now.

And, scene! (Sorry, I still have some leftover drama geek in my system.) Can't think of anything else to write. And must stop letting anger and work rule life.

Oh! I know! I forgot to tell y'all my comcast story. Last Thursday, I had an appointment to hook up cable, etc. from 2-5. Rushed home from work, taking a half day in a VERY BUSY time. Waited. Waited.

Finally, I got a call at 4:30: dude's running late. Will be there by 6:00... at the LATEST.

So at 7:00 I call Comcast... had to tell several people the story. Finally I sat on the phone while they wrote an email to dispatch to find out why no one showed up (using up 40 cell phone minutes as I have no internet, and thus have no other phone). Finally I got a call at 8ish that no one was coming, would I like to reschedule?

Sure, fuckers, there's nothing I'd like better than rescheduling after taking a chunk of time from work.

So, I'm rescheduled for Saturday 8-11. I decide to just take the a.m. appointment and to leave after to go to Columbia, as my only other options would be to miss more work and wait until the following weekend, which, hell to the no. It's February sweeps! I have tv to watch. And, damn it, I have to have internet. I found myself having to watch tv in the morning to catch the news (I really have a patholgical need to check the news periodically... I think it's a byproduct of 9//11) so I had to watch MORNING TV! And Katie Couric is the spawn of the devil. I don't get — at all — why people think she's cute, outside of her somehow appealing to many giant frightening chiclet smile. Shudder.

So, Comcast (you can see how passionately I'm needing the appointment) calls at 11:30. They're out of DVRs and would like to reschedule. And I lost it. I think I said the word "no" about six times in different inflections, and the phrase "someone needs to get their ass here NOW" came out. I feel bad for being a total bitch, but seriously. Dude.

And then someone came out. He was totally pissed, but again... dude. And the late start made my short visit to the family shorter. And I still need to get that DVR (I thought my replay would be enough but am finding it insufficient. Need to be able to record something and watch something else) which means another call(s) and another appointment(s).

Comcast sucks giant sweaty donkey balls. Seriously.

Valentine's Day

It's Valentine's Day. I'm happy that I've always hated it so I don't have to be sad today. In a relationship, NOT in a relationship, whatever. Hate it.

And it predates the whole boyfriend-dying-on-valentine's-day thing, which, admittedly has colored the day MORE, maybe. But I've hated it since elementary school when kids who were forced to give Valentines to everyone made it abundantly clear that that's the only reason I got one.

Ooooo, that sounded pathetic. Really, I just think it's a bunch of bunk hype to make people buy ridiculous gifts and commercializes love. So... (my point is) it sucks.

No, I'm not bitter. I just sound that way.

I was in Columbia this weekend for one day (that's why I didn't try to get together, Jim) for my dad's birthday. My brother-in-law had a big health scare last week, so I wanted to check on my sister and nephews, too. They haven't figured out what's wrong with my BIL, exactly, but for now it's enough to seriously curtail his life. I think that loss of freedom is going to hit him really hard if it turns out to be a long-term problem. I feel really bad for them.

There was a third reason for the visit: my younger sister is coming to visit in a few weeks, and will kindly load her truck up with crap I want from the family. So I had to visit Nanny's and figure out exactly what I'm going to steal from her. I did find the old bar stools I wanted and they're fabulous. I remember them from Nanny's since I was little, which is what makes 'em so sweet. Packed those puppies UP. And they look good.


I'm going to H's tonight to check on him and Eepie. Eepie's not doing any better in the peeing/pooping department, which worries the hell out of me. Of course, H's dad (who is STILL here) thinks I gave H the defective cat. I can see why he would think that, actually, since she's the one of the four cats with the explosive diarrhea and behavioral-bed-pissing. I keep telling H to have patience with her as she has to get through the stress of moving and being with his dad all day, but I know that's hard when you have a pet who is systematically destroying your belongings and probably your psyche. It's not a great thing to wake up with a cat pissing on you, which she's now done to both of us. Of course, H is dealing with frequency of pissing, while I had the experience of having my head peed on, which is, as you may be able to imagine, especially disgusting and a really lovely way of waking up.


I'm not talking too much about work. It's because my boss has pissed me the hell off, and I am trying to stay out of his way until I can get over being so damn mad. It's a really long story, but let me just say that I am really glad that I didn't tell him off like I wanted to this past Friday. I was so mad I would have cried or said something I'd regret, so yay me. Finally learned how to keep my damn mouth shut. I left work yesterday with cramps (for real: I felt like hot buttered ass) so I didn't have to see him, and he's out today. So yesterday will be the first time I've had to deal with him since IT happened, so I hope five days will be enough that I can talk to him about it in a reasoned thoughtful manner instead of bitching him out like I (really REALLY) want to.

(It's partially my fault. I said to G last week how smoothly the design for this project was going. I forgot a cardinal rule of design: don't fucking say stuff like that until the damn job is printed — and delivered. Damn client, but *much* more, damn my boss for treating me like the problem instead of the solution. And for taking over my fucking project. And for looking so SMUG while doing it.)


Wow, it's already 4:20. Fabulous.

just me

And the big day has come. H has moved out and it's just me. Well, me, Sammy, Max and Bea. :)

Moving day wasn't nearly as horrible as expected (and horrible is what I expected). I'd already cried my eyes out for a week straight, so may have gotten much of that out of my system. Of course, the clonazepam — and later the lorazepam — I took Saturday maybe, just maybe, helped me get through the day. (I have discovered, by the way, that I quite like the -pams. Nothing gets you through your husband and cat moving out quite like 'em!)

Seriously, though, it went as well as I could have hoped. H was awesome all weekend. We kind of got each other through it, which was nice.

I even made soup for lunch for H and his dad yesterday when they came to get a few more things. And I'm dropping by his apartment tonight to say howdy and kiss my cat. I have no cable so H is recording all my shows. Thursday night he's coming to the house to finish hooking up everything after my Comcast appointment, and I will be cooking dinner for him and his dad. Weird, maybe, but it really feels okay to me. So far it seems like we can be friends. It feels really possible right now.

So... all day Sunday I was cleaning cleaning cleaning, which is really the female way of pissing on something to show ownership, if you think about it. Rearranged furniture. Put out my new big rug from Ikea which Max has already half ruined by using it as a scratching post and, seriously, NO ONE has scratching posts like my cats, so the hell? Now I'm trying to decide if I should pack the fucker up (the rug, not Max) and haul it back to Ikea. I mean, really, the cat's a scratcher, sure, but the damn rug should hold up better than that.

And today starts all the behavior changes I put off until H moved out. Number one, diet. I am going to lose weight, dammit. Not a good start though: I got an unfortunately nasty salad for lunch and was hungry two hours later. So I heated up and ate the remains of a burrito from Friday but am beginning to think that maybe that was a mistake. My tummy is getting twitchy.

All in all, I feel good on a cold dreary rainy Monday. Rock on, me.

a year ago today

My grandfather died today a year ago. PaPa was the best grandpa you could have, sweet and affectionate, kind and attentive. And the only Christian that actually made me believe that there could be something to it (well, he and my mom).

Grey's Anatomy had a scene Sunday night with an old lady dying with her family and friends around her. I cried through it, because that was very much like when my grandpa died. My aunts, my mom, my sisters and brother, my cousin and I were all with him. And it was a beautiful death, which I never really understood until then. He was ready to go, and he was very much loved.

I miss you, PaPa.