So, it only took me 4 months after my wedding, but I finally uploaded some pictures. I figured I'd post a link just in case anyone ever reads this thing. I'm going to a baby shower this afternoon, and I just found out that my mom, sister, grandmothers and I are the only ones from our side of the family showing up - it's all the father's side. Nice. Maybe this means we can escape at a decent hour? I mean, honestly, who schedules a baby shower to start at 4?
Neil's moving out this week. I'm kind of sad about that. The boys are not having much of a reaction, which I guess is to be expected since they're boys. But then the next week we move into our new apartment, which I suppose will be exciting. Nice to have our own space and our own home.
Also, if I usually talk to you during the week and I didn't this week, I apologize. Work took over my life this past week, but I'm hoping that's over now.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Art of the found object
I hate cleaning my room. I especially hate cleaning my room at my parents' house because that just means I'm throwing stuff out. And every time I try to do that, I pick something up that I have no use for but just can't throw out. Rinse, repeat.
Rinse.
Repeat.
So, today I was doing some light cleaning. Nothing crazy, just the piles of mail that my parents create in my absense, but in the bottom of one of the boxes, I found the program to Mike Benjamin's senior recital.
That means nothing to you, does it? Mike lived 2 doors down from me freshman year. Jo, Jay, 'n' me, then Quincy and Saffy, then Mike and Nick. During orientation, Mike sat cross-legged in the hall holding a quarter and told us that when he dropped it, that would mean he'd hypnotized himself. He insisted that the care packages the school provided all the dorm residents came with condoms - which none of the rest of us ever saw. He used to peer between my door and the frame to say hi, which scared the crap out of Jo. And maybe we weren't friends, but everyone knew him. Even Celeste - who only came down for a summer internship - knew who Mike was by the end of the summer. And whenever I saw him, we could talk. He was a Music Education major, and I don't think life has been too kind to him since graduation. The last I heard, he was working at Staples.
He spent weeks trying to convince anyone who would listen to come to his senior recital, but I knew no one would go. He made announcements in marching band. He sent out mass emails. He brought it up at the bar. No one was going to go. It was scheduled for the day after the last football game. The night before the game, I went to dinner with Mike, Jessica, and Ben. We had all lived on the same hall freshman year but grown apart since. He practically begged us to go, and Ben and I agreed.
Except we broke up the next day. On the bus back from the football field and in the alcove in the music building where we used to eat our lunch. And the parking lot outside his dorm, until I promised him we'd see each other again. But not that weekend. We would not go to Mike's recital.
I went home to find that Dee and Dave had broken up (again). Our other roommates were out. Matty had stopped by the game after taking the GREs, so I called and he came over...and told me that when I felt like not being single anymore he knew a guy...named Matty.
The next morning, my roommate raced me to the phone, saying I'd better ask Matt out before she did. So I called him again and invited him to the first thing that came to mind. Mike's recital.
I don't think Mike knew we were together or even that Ben and I had broken up the day before. We said hi, wished him good luck, and spent an hour or so fidgeting on folding chairs, holding hands, worrying that Ben would show up. I know we spent the whole day together, and it must have been wonderful, but the rest of the date is a blur.
I don't know how many movie tickets I've thrown out. I'm not sure where all the valentines and birthday cards have gone. But somewhere in my room, there's a blue sheet of paper I probably should have thrown out years ago, and the next time I find it, I'll be just as happy as I am now.
Rinse.
Repeat.
So, today I was doing some light cleaning. Nothing crazy, just the piles of mail that my parents create in my absense, but in the bottom of one of the boxes, I found the program to Mike Benjamin's senior recital.
That means nothing to you, does it? Mike lived 2 doors down from me freshman year. Jo, Jay, 'n' me, then Quincy and Saffy, then Mike and Nick. During orientation, Mike sat cross-legged in the hall holding a quarter and told us that when he dropped it, that would mean he'd hypnotized himself. He insisted that the care packages the school provided all the dorm residents came with condoms - which none of the rest of us ever saw. He used to peer between my door and the frame to say hi, which scared the crap out of Jo. And maybe we weren't friends, but everyone knew him. Even Celeste - who only came down for a summer internship - knew who Mike was by the end of the summer. And whenever I saw him, we could talk. He was a Music Education major, and I don't think life has been too kind to him since graduation. The last I heard, he was working at Staples.
He spent weeks trying to convince anyone who would listen to come to his senior recital, but I knew no one would go. He made announcements in marching band. He sent out mass emails. He brought it up at the bar. No one was going to go. It was scheduled for the day after the last football game. The night before the game, I went to dinner with Mike, Jessica, and Ben. We had all lived on the same hall freshman year but grown apart since. He practically begged us to go, and Ben and I agreed.
Except we broke up the next day. On the bus back from the football field and in the alcove in the music building where we used to eat our lunch. And the parking lot outside his dorm, until I promised him we'd see each other again. But not that weekend. We would not go to Mike's recital.
I went home to find that Dee and Dave had broken up (again). Our other roommates were out. Matty had stopped by the game after taking the GREs, so I called and he came over...and told me that when I felt like not being single anymore he knew a guy...named Matty.
The next morning, my roommate raced me to the phone, saying I'd better ask Matt out before she did. So I called him again and invited him to the first thing that came to mind. Mike's recital.
I don't think Mike knew we were together or even that Ben and I had broken up the day before. We said hi, wished him good luck, and spent an hour or so fidgeting on folding chairs, holding hands, worrying that Ben would show up. I know we spent the whole day together, and it must have been wonderful, but the rest of the date is a blur.
I don't know how many movie tickets I've thrown out. I'm not sure where all the valentines and birthday cards have gone. But somewhere in my room, there's a blue sheet of paper I probably should have thrown out years ago, and the next time I find it, I'll be just as happy as I am now.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
The brother I never wanted
Last week, my department took the Myers-Briggs Type Index, which was great, but apparently a lot of people had taken it together before. The day before our workshop, two of my coworkers had this conversation.
"Do you remember what your type is?"
"Special."
"I'm sure that's what they told you, but that's really not a type."
"Oh, then I was Awesome."
Anyway, it turned out that I had the same type as everyone I interviewed with, but the description didn't feel right for some reason...so then I took it again when I got home and, while the individual letters didn't always sound right, the overall description sounded just like me. And, the type I think Matt is (he won't take the test for some reason) is the same type as my "annoying brother" coworker.
We get along ok (coworker and I) most days. Actually, most days, we barely talk, but when he's in a bad mood, he transforms into The Brother I Never Wanted. And then I see him every 5 minutes, when he comes around to throw things at me or poke me with his coffee stirrer or just to make faces at me. We had one of those days last week, so I asked him what was up with him.
"I'm just pissed off today."
"And how is that different from any other day?"
"Well, usually I'm sassy and delightful."
I walked away after that. By the afternoon, he was back to basically ignoring me. Unfortunately, Matt's been in the same annoying mood this week. I told him he was the brother I never wanted, and he seemed kind of pleased with that, even after I pointed out how icky that is. Other than that and a brief power struggle over who was going to do the dishes that have been sitting in the sink since Wednesday, we've been doing really well this week. I can't believe the wedding is in a month. Eep, is that ever close. One of Matt's cousins invited herself and her 3 SMALL CHILDREN to our wedding this week. I was ready to stab someone after I got that call, but Matt's mom is willing to pay for them, so I'm pretending to be the classy one here. I mean, seriously. We don't know you. Your parents aren't coming. You weren't invited. Why are you insisting on forcing us to pay for you to be at our wedding? At least they've had 5 "no"s already, so I feel a little better.
"Do you remember what your type is?"
"Special."
"I'm sure that's what they told you, but that's really not a type."
"Oh, then I was Awesome."
Anyway, it turned out that I had the same type as everyone I interviewed with, but the description didn't feel right for some reason...so then I took it again when I got home and, while the individual letters didn't always sound right, the overall description sounded just like me. And, the type I think Matt is (he won't take the test for some reason) is the same type as my "annoying brother" coworker.
We get along ok (coworker and I) most days. Actually, most days, we barely talk, but when he's in a bad mood, he transforms into The Brother I Never Wanted. And then I see him every 5 minutes, when he comes around to throw things at me or poke me with his coffee stirrer or just to make faces at me. We had one of those days last week, so I asked him what was up with him.
"I'm just pissed off today."
"And how is that different from any other day?"
"Well, usually I'm sassy and delightful."
I walked away after that. By the afternoon, he was back to basically ignoring me. Unfortunately, Matt's been in the same annoying mood this week. I told him he was the brother I never wanted, and he seemed kind of pleased with that, even after I pointed out how icky that is. Other than that and a brief power struggle over who was going to do the dishes that have been sitting in the sink since Wednesday, we've been doing really well this week. I can't believe the wedding is in a month. Eep, is that ever close. One of Matt's cousins invited herself and her 3 SMALL CHILDREN to our wedding this week. I was ready to stab someone after I got that call, but Matt's mom is willing to pay for them, so I'm pretending to be the classy one here. I mean, seriously. We don't know you. Your parents aren't coming. You weren't invited. Why are you insisting on forcing us to pay for you to be at our wedding? At least they've had 5 "no"s already, so I feel a little better.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Soul and Breath
So, twice this week - and it's only Tuesday -the fortune on my teabag has said Your breath is the voice of your soul.
Do you think this is another message, like the time over the summer that my teabag called me schizophrenic? And if my breath is the voice of my soul, then my soul is seriously not a morning person. Is my soul sick in the morning? (If so, I submit that mint tea and toothpaste may just be the Balm in Gilead.) Do garlic and asparagas turn your soul foul? Are diabetics naturally sweet-souled? Is Listerine an outreach of Lutheran World Relief?
And, if we accept all this as true, just how good for my soul is this cup of black chai? Obviously, it's beating out coffee and cigarettes, but can it restore my soul better than, say, a tic tac?
Of course, two weeks ago this same box of tea yielded this little gem (which I taped up in my cube):
When you know that all is light, you are enlightened. I'm beginning to think that the yogi who made this box of tea is defective.
Did you know that my mother ordered stamps with Matt's and my faces on them for the wedding invitations? It's true - but she didn't order enough for everyone, so don't feel too bad if you didn't make the A list. Once I start getting my cancelled face back in the mail, I plan to make a collage, possibly to scan and to post. Is this really necessary? I don't think the world really needs a stamp of me.
This popped up today on a work-related d-list. You can probably skip the content column - it's only mildly amusing, and it won't tell you anything you don't already know. No, I really CnPed this link so you could see the comments on the left. This guy has included the usual "2 thumbs way way waaaaaaaaaay up" and "This talk is brilliant! My love is pure!" Cheerific garbage, but he's also included "abuses his platform to discuss hotbutton issues" and "likes to hear himself talk."
Truly, his brave selection of user feedback is the most valuable content on this page. We can all learn from his magical example. Maybe I should send him some of my tea...
Do you think this is another message, like the time over the summer that my teabag called me schizophrenic? And if my breath is the voice of my soul, then my soul is seriously not a morning person. Is my soul sick in the morning? (If so, I submit that mint tea and toothpaste may just be the Balm in Gilead.) Do garlic and asparagas turn your soul foul? Are diabetics naturally sweet-souled? Is Listerine an outreach of Lutheran World Relief?
And, if we accept all this as true, just how good for my soul is this cup of black chai? Obviously, it's beating out coffee and cigarettes, but can it restore my soul better than, say, a tic tac?
Of course, two weeks ago this same box of tea yielded this little gem (which I taped up in my cube):
When you know that all is light, you are enlightened. I'm beginning to think that the yogi who made this box of tea is defective.
Did you know that my mother ordered stamps with Matt's and my faces on them for the wedding invitations? It's true - but she didn't order enough for everyone, so don't feel too bad if you didn't make the A list. Once I start getting my cancelled face back in the mail, I plan to make a collage, possibly to scan and to post. Is this really necessary? I don't think the world really needs a stamp of me.
This popped up today on a work-related d-list. You can probably skip the content column - it's only mildly amusing, and it won't tell you anything you don't already know. No, I really CnPed this link so you could see the comments on the left. This guy has included the usual "2 thumbs way way waaaaaaaaaay up" and "This talk is brilliant! My love is pure!" Cheerific garbage, but he's also included "abuses his platform to discuss hotbutton issues" and "likes to hear himself talk."
Truly, his brave selection of user feedback is the most valuable content on this page. We can all learn from his magical example. Maybe I should send him some of my tea...
Sunday, February 19, 2006
No Man's Land
So, I'm getting married in 7 weeks. Deposits have been made. Invitations have been sent. Dresses have been bought. I don't have to do a whole lot of new stuff. Next month I'll check in with vendors, and I'm sure small things will come up, but I'm just about done with this "engaged" business.
I say that because I know what I'm about to say is both perfectly normal and totally irritating. Every aspect of my life is in flux, so of course I'm feeling insecure, but things will resolve. And things are changing for the better, but it doesn't always feel like it.
I have to stop myself from calling Matt my husband. Sometimes that doesn't happen in time. For instance, today when I had to pull over in a sketchy motel's parking lot because Matt thought he was going to throw up, and I decided to take a plastic cup from the cleaning lady's cart in case I couldn't pull over the next time he decided to hurl, and then she came out and stared at me as I swiped her supplies, and I was all "I'm sorry. My husband is about to throw up." (emphasis added. I hope I'm not one of those people who walks around like "well, my boyfriend says...") Now, first of all, that is inaccurate, in that Matt is not my husband. And, also, that doesn't really make any sense in context. Third, I have no idea if she spoke English, and I would have taken the cup even if she had tried to hit me with a broom or something. I was tending to my precious, and no one was going to get in my way. Tending to Matt was the most important thing in the world today. Because he is my little family now.
But, at the same time, I feel very single. Free to flirt. Not that there's anyone to flirt with. I think that's because things haven't been going so well at home. Not that things are bad. We get along just fine, and we haven't been fighting over our space or anything. The problem is that we act a little too much like roommates. Roommates who are all up in each other's faces all the time (literally) but roommates. Part of the problem is that Matt has been really stressed lately. So much so that he's making himself sick - hence the plastic cup story. And part of the problem is that I still don't have much of a life here. I never really had friends in Princeton. I have a couple up in Hoboken, and a couple down in Philly/DE, but no one I can just call to hang out when Matt works late. People are friendly at work, but I feel like I've moved backwards there a little. Like I have to fight my way back into the clique. It might be me. I haven't been too busy lately, and when I have nothing to do, I tend to stay at my desk because I feel like I'm annoying people by wandering the office. And I'm not exactly planning activities, either, but I feel like I'm being left out.
It's frustrating. I feel like I should know more and belong more than I actually do. I'm new, but I'm not, and I want to get out of this grey space as soon as possible, because it is a good job, and a nice office, and these people used to be my friends over the summer. They still are. I just have to get back into whatever routine we were in before. And it doesn't help that I'm working out of both offices. While that's good for the commute, I don't feel like I'm really bonding with either team.
But then, every once in a while, I have a day where I remember what I loved about this job over the summer, and Matt and I do something after work, and one of my friends actually returns my calls, and I feel like everything is going to be ok. Matt and I are working on planning more activities together. I have more work to do this week, which makes me feel more free to socialize in my downtime. I spent less than half my weekend working on wedding stuff, so I don't feel so much like part of a machine.
And I want to write again. Just get everything out, and be interesting to talk to and listen to and read again. And I have so much happy/interesting things to say, I think.
Just as soon as I get out of this no man's land.
I say that because I know what I'm about to say is both perfectly normal and totally irritating. Every aspect of my life is in flux, so of course I'm feeling insecure, but things will resolve. And things are changing for the better, but it doesn't always feel like it.
I have to stop myself from calling Matt my husband. Sometimes that doesn't happen in time. For instance, today when I had to pull over in a sketchy motel's parking lot because Matt thought he was going to throw up, and I decided to take a plastic cup from the cleaning lady's cart in case I couldn't pull over the next time he decided to hurl, and then she came out and stared at me as I swiped her supplies, and I was all "I'm sorry. My husband is about to throw up." (emphasis added. I hope I'm not one of those people who walks around like "well, my boyfriend says...") Now, first of all, that is inaccurate, in that Matt is not my husband. And, also, that doesn't really make any sense in context. Third, I have no idea if she spoke English, and I would have taken the cup even if she had tried to hit me with a broom or something. I was tending to my precious, and no one was going to get in my way. Tending to Matt was the most important thing in the world today. Because he is my little family now.
But, at the same time, I feel very single. Free to flirt. Not that there's anyone to flirt with. I think that's because things haven't been going so well at home. Not that things are bad. We get along just fine, and we haven't been fighting over our space or anything. The problem is that we act a little too much like roommates. Roommates who are all up in each other's faces all the time (literally) but roommates. Part of the problem is that Matt has been really stressed lately. So much so that he's making himself sick - hence the plastic cup story. And part of the problem is that I still don't have much of a life here. I never really had friends in Princeton. I have a couple up in Hoboken, and a couple down in Philly/DE, but no one I can just call to hang out when Matt works late. People are friendly at work, but I feel like I've moved backwards there a little. Like I have to fight my way back into the clique. It might be me. I haven't been too busy lately, and when I have nothing to do, I tend to stay at my desk because I feel like I'm annoying people by wandering the office. And I'm not exactly planning activities, either, but I feel like I'm being left out.
It's frustrating. I feel like I should know more and belong more than I actually do. I'm new, but I'm not, and I want to get out of this grey space as soon as possible, because it is a good job, and a nice office, and these people used to be my friends over the summer. They still are. I just have to get back into whatever routine we were in before. And it doesn't help that I'm working out of both offices. While that's good for the commute, I don't feel like I'm really bonding with either team.
But then, every once in a while, I have a day where I remember what I loved about this job over the summer, and Matt and I do something after work, and one of my friends actually returns my calls, and I feel like everything is going to be ok. Matt and I are working on planning more activities together. I have more work to do this week, which makes me feel more free to socialize in my downtime. I spent less than half my weekend working on wedding stuff, so I don't feel so much like part of a machine.
And I want to write again. Just get everything out, and be interesting to talk to and listen to and read again. And I have so much happy/interesting things to say, I think.
Just as soon as I get out of this no man's land.
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