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...
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
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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