Once upon a time I had my tooth pulled. After saying peace out to Molar 4, I was given the consolation prize of some pain killers.
I took some yesterday after the anesthesia wore off and they made me sleepy. So, I resolved to substitute the prescription strength pain killers for some regular Joe ibuprofen.
Side note: I would make a crappy upper class housewife because I can't handle Vicoden. So long, New York socialite life.
Anyway, this morning when my mouth felt like someone spent all night hitting it with a hammer, I did what any smart person would do: I took a Vicoden (I convinced myself it needed a second chance) and then drove to work. All in a day's work, folks.
So now my tummy is aboard the nausea train, my mouth is sore and tastes like iron and I'm hungry but it hurts to eat food. In other words, woe is fucking me.
Thus, here is a link to the "Where The Wild Things Are" trailer because it makes me really happy. And because deep down inside, I know this blog post fits me to a tee.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Why I Now Want To Be An Oral Surgeon: A Short Essay.
Tomorrow, I'll be saying good-bye to an old friend.
That's right, after twenty-two years hiding out in my gums, good ol' Top Right wisdom tooth decided to make it's grand entrance. Trouble is, it wasn't so grand. Instead of being a lady about it and curtsying in what would've undoubtedly been a fancy dress, it ripped into my mouth like fucking Rambo and took some names.
This isn't Vietnam.
Lucky for me, my mouth only has one crazed wisdom tooth instead of the usual four. However, nobody told the oral surgeon that because he's still charging me a ludicrous amount of money to remove Top Right.
Not quite as ludicrous as this, but you get the point.
For one tooth it's costing me $512. FOR ONE TOOTH. I understand it's a rebel tooth, but, listen, it's not going to suicide bomb my entire mouth or anything. Is this tooth some sort of long lost reincarnated medallion that will unlock the mystery of life? No? Then why do you insist on me paying you like it is? WHY.
The moral of this story is this: grow up to be an oral surgeon. Sure, yanking teeth out might not be the most exciting thing in the world, but you could take solace in the giant piles of money that you fashioned into chairs in your gigantic mansion. God, so that's why all the girls want to marry doctors.
Top Right, you have taught me so much. Good-bye, ol' buddy. I probably won't miss you that much.
That's right, after twenty-two years hiding out in my gums, good ol' Top Right wisdom tooth decided to make it's grand entrance. Trouble is, it wasn't so grand. Instead of being a lady about it and curtsying in what would've undoubtedly been a fancy dress, it ripped into my mouth like fucking Rambo and took some names.
This isn't Vietnam.
Lucky for me, my mouth only has one crazed wisdom tooth instead of the usual four. However, nobody told the oral surgeon that because he's still charging me a ludicrous amount of money to remove Top Right.
Not quite as ludicrous as this, but you get the point.
For one tooth it's costing me $512. FOR ONE TOOTH. I understand it's a rebel tooth, but, listen, it's not going to suicide bomb my entire mouth or anything. Is this tooth some sort of long lost reincarnated medallion that will unlock the mystery of life? No? Then why do you insist on me paying you like it is? WHY.
The moral of this story is this: grow up to be an oral surgeon. Sure, yanking teeth out might not be the most exciting thing in the world, but you could take solace in the giant piles of money that you fashioned into chairs in your gigantic mansion. God, so that's why all the girls want to marry doctors.
Top Right, you have taught me so much. Good-bye, ol' buddy. I probably won't miss you that much.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Crazy
It seems like a while since I've come here. Why? Because these days, I spend the majority of my time grinning like a fool and listening to music that I can't relate to.
Example: last night, I was driving across town with the last of the Arizona sun warming my face, smiling the smile of the hopelessly happy and listening to old R&B on the AM radio. I'm basically a one-woman cliche.
I haven't really wanted to write about it because I'm afraid of jinxing it. I haven't felt good about myself or my life in a while and I don't want to scare away the good fortune. The beginning of the year was rocky for a variety of reasons. My demons came back for me and for the first time in a long time I didn't see a way out. I thought it over plenty of times and was just beginning to accept the fact that I was meant to be unhinged when something happened. I can't quite pinpoint what changed or how I got out of it, but I noticed one day that my head was a little clearer. Yes, the static and depression and overwhelming urge to obsess and control were still there, but the ideas that scared me so badly were now just speaking to me instead of shouting.
A while later, I realized that I wasn't so concerned about how I was going to make it through the day. Before, I had to have a firm plan of what I was going to do during the day, down the hour, because having free time to be alone with my thoughts was too risky. Suddenly, I had the free time that I dreaded so much and, very surprisingly, I wasn't afraid of it. I started to embrace it and it felt familiar. I realized I missed having time to myself.
These days, I can't quite remember what it the first four months of the year felt like. I remember what I was doing and saying and how damaging both tended to be to me, but I can't identify with the feelings anymore. It's like my brain re-arranged itself one night and I woke up feeling new. I went to work and my eyes weren't glazed over. I started caring about myself and things I deemed important. Funny thing is, after I started to realize that I wasn't crazy, things just started to fall into place. I'm two years away from being a college graduate, my relationships with my friends and family have proven to be stronger than I ever expected, I met The Boy and, while I'm still some way from my weight-loss goal, I am absolutely confident that I will make it to where I want to be.
Like I said, I don't know what changed. I still have moments where I don't know if I'm allowed to be this happy. It doesn't feel real a lot of the time, but instead of spending a lot of time questioning or analyzing it, I'm just accepting it. Every single thought that kept me crippled during the beginning of the year is still there; I don't think those will ever go away. But they're quieter now and don't interfere as much. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I've beaten it. I don't need a label, especially that label, to define who I am and what I think about.
This isn't at all what I intended to write about, but I guess it just needed to come out. Funny how that works.
Example: last night, I was driving across town with the last of the Arizona sun warming my face, smiling the smile of the hopelessly happy and listening to old R&B on the AM radio. I'm basically a one-woman cliche.
I haven't really wanted to write about it because I'm afraid of jinxing it. I haven't felt good about myself or my life in a while and I don't want to scare away the good fortune. The beginning of the year was rocky for a variety of reasons. My demons came back for me and for the first time in a long time I didn't see a way out. I thought it over plenty of times and was just beginning to accept the fact that I was meant to be unhinged when something happened. I can't quite pinpoint what changed or how I got out of it, but I noticed one day that my head was a little clearer. Yes, the static and depression and overwhelming urge to obsess and control were still there, but the ideas that scared me so badly were now just speaking to me instead of shouting.
A while later, I realized that I wasn't so concerned about how I was going to make it through the day. Before, I had to have a firm plan of what I was going to do during the day, down the hour, because having free time to be alone with my thoughts was too risky. Suddenly, I had the free time that I dreaded so much and, very surprisingly, I wasn't afraid of it. I started to embrace it and it felt familiar. I realized I missed having time to myself.
These days, I can't quite remember what it the first four months of the year felt like. I remember what I was doing and saying and how damaging both tended to be to me, but I can't identify with the feelings anymore. It's like my brain re-arranged itself one night and I woke up feeling new. I went to work and my eyes weren't glazed over. I started caring about myself and things I deemed important. Funny thing is, after I started to realize that I wasn't crazy, things just started to fall into place. I'm two years away from being a college graduate, my relationships with my friends and family have proven to be stronger than I ever expected, I met The Boy and, while I'm still some way from my weight-loss goal, I am absolutely confident that I will make it to where I want to be.
Like I said, I don't know what changed. I still have moments where I don't know if I'm allowed to be this happy. It doesn't feel real a lot of the time, but instead of spending a lot of time questioning or analyzing it, I'm just accepting it. Every single thought that kept me crippled during the beginning of the year is still there; I don't think those will ever go away. But they're quieter now and don't interfere as much. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I've beaten it. I don't need a label, especially that label, to define who I am and what I think about.
This isn't at all what I intended to write about, but I guess it just needed to come out. Funny how that works.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
It doesn't have to be New Years for a resolution.
I'm having trouble with myself.
I've tried writing a few sentences to elaborate, but it all boils down to that one statement. I can't get myself to do what I want. Things have been going so well for me that I have essentially said "eh, forget it" to most of the things I was working on. My weight loss efforts have pretty much fallen by the wayside, I feel lost without a school project to work on, my job is testing the limits of my patience and I am right smack in the middle of numerous unfinished projects. I feel very cluttered.
Pictured: my insides.
I have the rest of this week and all of next week off from work (insert hallelujah angels here), so I've decided it is going to be a kick-off to de-cluttering my life. Does that sound too Oprah-ish? Oh God. I promise I'm not going to go buy her book of the week or anything. Eff Oprah. Yeah, I said it.*
Because I need to see it in writing and I can't say no to a good list, here are some things I'm planning on doing during my week of freedom.
1.) Crafts. I haven't knitted in ages. I guess it's because nobody needs a wool hat or scarf in the desert in the middle of July. Who knew? I have also been wanting to re-do my room because it's my favorite room of my house. Hello, narcissism, how do you do? I bought some blank canvasses at Michaels (shout out to 2-for1 deals!) that have been sitting against my door for the past month. I guess I really should have thought about the fact that I have the artistic talent of a first grader before I committed to purchasing canvas and paints, but we'll see what I can make of it.
2.) Exercise. I haven't done much of this for the past few weeks because, well, it's fucking hot. I somehow don't look forward to having a trainer yell at me to "push it!". Yeah, I'll push it alright. I'll push it all the way to the goddamn Cold Stone Creamery. You don't know my life, YMCA trainer.
For realsies, though, I need to get back on this bandwagon. I have the combination gross/lumpy feeling that can only come from leaving a permanent ass print in the easy chair. I've found that I like the solitude of jogging, but I get really uneasy doing that in front of people. Oh don't mind all the jiggling, folks, just trying to jog a couple miles without hacking up a lung. I found a nature trail that's not too far from my house, though, so I want to do a bit of trail running. Although it's a gravel trail and birds can run it, I'm still counting it as trail running.
3.) Not watch (as much) TV. I know, I know, it's blasphemy. But I've noticed that I can't just watch TV. I'll read a book, play on the laptop, try to get Simon to chase his own tail or any other thing I can distract myself with while watching TV. So, why not just cut it down all together? There are so many other things I could be doing, which brings me to #4.
4.) Get the hell out of the house. I love my house and all the comforts it provides, but I gotta get out more. Usually, when I'm at home, I put on some sweat pants and prepare myself for a rigorous day of lounging and lay downs. It's hard work but someone has to be the lazy hobo of the house hold. That sofa isn't going to nap on itself. I usually would probably say "screw it, it's my vacation and I do what I please", but I'm bringing in reinforcements.
My younger cousins, ages 9-16, are coming to spend the week with me. Why? Does one ever need a reason to hang out with a badass cousin?** My cousins are all active, imaginative, creative and absolutely needy people. They need to be entertained and guess who just signed on to be the figurative magician at the birthday party?
Sadly I don't have a segway.
It should be an interesting week.
So, there is is. The 4 things I want to get accomplished next week. Will I do it all? Can I survive all week on one tank of gas? Will I end up strangling a cousin in the process? Only one way to find out.
*Oprah, please don't send your housewife assassins to murder me and re-arrange my living room.
**Answer: no.
I've tried writing a few sentences to elaborate, but it all boils down to that one statement. I can't get myself to do what I want. Things have been going so well for me that I have essentially said "eh, forget it" to most of the things I was working on. My weight loss efforts have pretty much fallen by the wayside, I feel lost without a school project to work on, my job is testing the limits of my patience and I am right smack in the middle of numerous unfinished projects. I feel very cluttered.
Pictured: my insides.
I have the rest of this week and all of next week off from work (insert hallelujah angels here), so I've decided it is going to be a kick-off to de-cluttering my life. Does that sound too Oprah-ish? Oh God. I promise I'm not going to go buy her book of the week or anything. Eff Oprah. Yeah, I said it.*
Because I need to see it in writing and I can't say no to a good list, here are some things I'm planning on doing during my week of freedom.
1.) Crafts. I haven't knitted in ages. I guess it's because nobody needs a wool hat or scarf in the desert in the middle of July. Who knew? I have also been wanting to re-do my room because it's my favorite room of my house. Hello, narcissism, how do you do? I bought some blank canvasses at Michaels (shout out to 2-for1 deals!) that have been sitting against my door for the past month. I guess I really should have thought about the fact that I have the artistic talent of a first grader before I committed to purchasing canvas and paints, but we'll see what I can make of it.
2.) Exercise. I haven't done much of this for the past few weeks because, well, it's fucking hot. I somehow don't look forward to having a trainer yell at me to "push it!". Yeah, I'll push it alright. I'll push it all the way to the goddamn Cold Stone Creamery. You don't know my life, YMCA trainer.
For realsies, though, I need to get back on this bandwagon. I have the combination gross/lumpy feeling that can only come from leaving a permanent ass print in the easy chair. I've found that I like the solitude of jogging, but I get really uneasy doing that in front of people. Oh don't mind all the jiggling, folks, just trying to jog a couple miles without hacking up a lung. I found a nature trail that's not too far from my house, though, so I want to do a bit of trail running. Although it's a gravel trail and birds can run it, I'm still counting it as trail running.
3.) Not watch (as much) TV. I know, I know, it's blasphemy. But I've noticed that I can't just watch TV. I'll read a book, play on the laptop, try to get Simon to chase his own tail or any other thing I can distract myself with while watching TV. So, why not just cut it down all together? There are so many other things I could be doing, which brings me to #4.
4.) Get the hell out of the house. I love my house and all the comforts it provides, but I gotta get out more. Usually, when I'm at home, I put on some sweat pants and prepare myself for a rigorous day of lounging and lay downs. It's hard work but someone has to be the lazy hobo of the house hold. That sofa isn't going to nap on itself. I usually would probably say "screw it, it's my vacation and I do what I please", but I'm bringing in reinforcements.
My younger cousins, ages 9-16, are coming to spend the week with me. Why? Does one ever need a reason to hang out with a badass cousin?** My cousins are all active, imaginative, creative and absolutely needy people. They need to be entertained and guess who just signed on to be the figurative magician at the birthday party?
Sadly I don't have a segway.
It should be an interesting week.
So, there is is. The 4 things I want to get accomplished next week. Will I do it all? Can I survive all week on one tank of gas? Will I end up strangling a cousin in the process? Only one way to find out.
*Oprah, please don't send your housewife assassins to murder me and re-arrange my living room.
**Answer: no.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Surprise Visitor
Guys, I have a confession to make. Today I did something kinda bad.
See, when I came into work this morning, there was a surprise waiting for me.
"Hellooooooo handsome," I said. My surprise practically winked at me.
We flirted for a bit, me and my surprise visitor. I felt a little guilty. I've been seeing The Boy for a few weeks, but this surprise visitor and I are old friends. We have a history, see, and a saucy one at that.
Finally, when I could take it no more, I took my surprise visitor into the conference room. I made sure we were alone before sinking my teeth into my surprise visitor.
"Mmm, I missed you," I said. My surprise visitor was just as sweet as he'd always been and it felt so familiar and comfortable to have my lips right where they belonged.
Then, to my embarrassment, the door swung open and Deskmate uttered an, "Oh, um, sorry."
My surprise visitor tried to get the mood going again, but it was ruined for good.
"We can't meet like this anymore," I said. My surprise visitor tried once again to meet my lips, but I had to stand my ground.
"No," I whispered. "It's probably best if you leave."
And, with a heavy heart, I showed my surprise visitor the door and prepared to bribe Deskmate to keep my dirty secret.
Good-bye, Surprise Visitor.
I'll never forget you.
See, when I came into work this morning, there was a surprise waiting for me.
"Hellooooooo handsome," I said. My surprise practically winked at me.
We flirted for a bit, me and my surprise visitor. I felt a little guilty. I've been seeing The Boy for a few weeks, but this surprise visitor and I are old friends. We have a history, see, and a saucy one at that.
Finally, when I could take it no more, I took my surprise visitor into the conference room. I made sure we were alone before sinking my teeth into my surprise visitor.
"Mmm, I missed you," I said. My surprise visitor was just as sweet as he'd always been and it felt so familiar and comfortable to have my lips right where they belonged.
Then, to my embarrassment, the door swung open and Deskmate uttered an, "Oh, um, sorry."
My surprise visitor tried to get the mood going again, but it was ruined for good.
"We can't meet like this anymore," I said. My surprise visitor tried once again to meet my lips, but I had to stand my ground.
"No," I whispered. "It's probably best if you leave."
And, with a heavy heart, I showed my surprise visitor the door and prepared to bribe Deskmate to keep my dirty secret.
Good-bye, Surprise Visitor.
I'll never forget you.
Tuesdays are okay in my book.
Usually the day after I write an angry blog, I feel bad about it. I'm like, "Shit son, I need to get my temper under control otherwise people are gonna start calling me Ike."
You gonna get it.
I don't feel bad about what I wrote yesterday though. It still rings true today. But, I do regret letting one situation affect my entire day. I was upset throughout the day, but my friends and family came through and punched my bad day in the face. Punched it in the face with RAINBOWS AND AWESOME.
First, good ol' Thurber drew me a cake with llamas and penguins around it. Then, NE wrote a super sweet blog post that made me blush and smile wider and weirder than The Joker on crack. Some friends of mine showed me some b-day love on the Facebook, MySpace and Twitter. Mama D and Poppa D took me for the largest strawberry daiquiri I've ever had the pleasure of putting down the hatch. The Boy gave me a lot of laughs and blew my mind by ordering a little something called a pie shake. Oh, that's right, a pie INSIDE a milkshake. Someone needs to call Criss Angel because my mind has been freaked.
On second thought, don't. Nobody wants this.
I usually tend to focus on the negative instead of the positive. Like I said before, the bad things leave a bigger mark than the good. The thing is, my life is going well. Good and exciting things are happening. I've gotten used to always having something wrong, something to fix, that I don't really know how to react when there is nothing that needs fixing. I seek out problems instead of just enjoying all the good fortune that has come my way. Days like yesterday have shown me that it's alright to feel good about something. I'm not going to apologize for all the good things that have been happening to me lately and I'm sure as hell not going to seek out misery.
I'm starting a change today. I am purging myself of all the dead weight in my life. I'm taking a break from being meek and not defending myself. I am going to take concrete steps towards being a good friend. I am going to be more assertive and not feel bad about getting things that I want. I'm going to be a little bit more of a bitch, in a good way, of course. Why? Because it's about goddamn time, is why.
So, yeah. Suck it, Monday. There's a new day of the week in town.
You gonna get it.
I don't feel bad about what I wrote yesterday though. It still rings true today. But, I do regret letting one situation affect my entire day. I was upset throughout the day, but my friends and family came through and punched my bad day in the face. Punched it in the face with RAINBOWS AND AWESOME.
First, good ol' Thurber drew me a cake with llamas and penguins around it. Then, NE wrote a super sweet blog post that made me blush and smile wider and weirder than The Joker on crack. Some friends of mine showed me some b-day love on the Facebook, MySpace and Twitter. Mama D and Poppa D took me for the largest strawberry daiquiri I've ever had the pleasure of putting down the hatch. The Boy gave me a lot of laughs and blew my mind by ordering a little something called a pie shake. Oh, that's right, a pie INSIDE a milkshake. Someone needs to call Criss Angel because my mind has been freaked.
On second thought, don't. Nobody wants this.
I usually tend to focus on the negative instead of the positive. Like I said before, the bad things leave a bigger mark than the good. The thing is, my life is going well. Good and exciting things are happening. I've gotten used to always having something wrong, something to fix, that I don't really know how to react when there is nothing that needs fixing. I seek out problems instead of just enjoying all the good fortune that has come my way. Days like yesterday have shown me that it's alright to feel good about something. I'm not going to apologize for all the good things that have been happening to me lately and I'm sure as hell not going to seek out misery.
I'm starting a change today. I am purging myself of all the dead weight in my life. I'm taking a break from being meek and not defending myself. I am going to take concrete steps towards being a good friend. I am going to be more assertive and not feel bad about getting things that I want. I'm going to be a little bit more of a bitch, in a good way, of course. Why? Because it's about goddamn time, is why.
So, yeah. Suck it, Monday. There's a new day of the week in town.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Please don't be so passive, be aggressive.
I have no clever way to start this because, well, I don't particularly care for being clever at the moment. Why's that? Because my brain is so full of rage that I can barely see straight.
Without naming names or specific incidents, I'd like to formally call bullshit. I'm calling bullshit on toxic and lame people. I'm calling bullshit on situations that I can change, but for whatever reason choose not to. I'm calling bullshit on all the things that make me want to surrender and go home.
"You never stick up for yourself," is what I heard on the other end of the phone. At the time, I was prepared to call bullshit on that too. But, as it turns out, it's true, and that makes me angrier than I could ever express. I don't stand up for myself because I'm so terrified of rocking the boat that it just doesn't seem worth it. I can stand up for my friends and family, but I can't do that for myself. I hate that. I'll let myself get beat up by friends, family and co-workers because, hey, they need to vent and the world could always use another martyr and I can handle it. That's what I tell myself; they get to be assholes because they need to let it out and I'm strong enough to handle it without taking it personally.
Well, I'm not going to stop doing that. I love my friends and family enough that I understand that sometimes, you just gotta let your inner dickhead have a go at the world and that occasionally that takes place all over your friends and family. But what I will stop doing is wearing myself out over friends and family who just don't deserve it. That might sound like an asshole thing to say, but I really don't give a shit. Maybe I am an asshole after all. An asshole with a broken heart who is tired of repairing the same wounds over and over again.
When asked what I wanted to do today, my answer was nothing. I don't want to do anything today because I'm too worn out. It bothers me that some very recent bullshit completely overshadowed some pretty fantastic events. What can I say? Hurt lasts longer than love and, baby, I got a lot of hurt today.
Without naming names or specific incidents, I'd like to formally call bullshit. I'm calling bullshit on toxic and lame people. I'm calling bullshit on situations that I can change, but for whatever reason choose not to. I'm calling bullshit on all the things that make me want to surrender and go home.
"You never stick up for yourself," is what I heard on the other end of the phone. At the time, I was prepared to call bullshit on that too. But, as it turns out, it's true, and that makes me angrier than I could ever express. I don't stand up for myself because I'm so terrified of rocking the boat that it just doesn't seem worth it. I can stand up for my friends and family, but I can't do that for myself. I hate that. I'll let myself get beat up by friends, family and co-workers because, hey, they need to vent and the world could always use another martyr and I can handle it. That's what I tell myself; they get to be assholes because they need to let it out and I'm strong enough to handle it without taking it personally.
Well, I'm not going to stop doing that. I love my friends and family enough that I understand that sometimes, you just gotta let your inner dickhead have a go at the world and that occasionally that takes place all over your friends and family. But what I will stop doing is wearing myself out over friends and family who just don't deserve it. That might sound like an asshole thing to say, but I really don't give a shit. Maybe I am an asshole after all. An asshole with a broken heart who is tired of repairing the same wounds over and over again.
When asked what I wanted to do today, my answer was nothing. I don't want to do anything today because I'm too worn out. It bothers me that some very recent bullshit completely overshadowed some pretty fantastic events. What can I say? Hurt lasts longer than love and, baby, I got a lot of hurt today.
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