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Nothing has gone horribly awry today, so I celebrate by joining the herd - It seemed like a good idea at the time... [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
terribleturnip

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Nothing has gone horribly awry today, so I celebrate by joining the herd [Mar. 16th, 2011|05:15 pm]
terribleturnip
(Before one of you expletive deleteds says "But the day isn't over yet!", I have two things to say: #1, compassionate patient me replies, look it's near over and even if it starts going awry RIGHT NOW, it will never build up enough momentum. #2, Bull Tail caught in a Trailer Door refers you to my previous post. I haven't figured out what I'm going to do with the body yet and am just dragging it around by one arm. Don't make me have to use two hands.)

So, I will do Decades, what the hell. I don't have enough brain cells left to do much more, but feel the need to write about something with more humor potential than sponges and scrubbers.



Descending, right?

2011: I will spend half the year 47, the other half 48. 48 and 24 are my two favorite numbers, so I have high hopes for the second half of the year. Seven and I are barely on speaking terms, so NO WONDER. (I don't expect to remember that I have favorite numbers by the time I reach 88.) I am living in a house that is owned by myself and my ex..and the bank. Although we're finally gaining on the bank. The house is in less than fabulous shape and needs a lot of work, work I'm struggling to afford, when I'm not hyperventilating about my agreement with my ex to start "buying" his share in two more years. Thankfully, the benefits of marrying a nice guy in the first place and being an adult about splitting up will pay off in that department and I anticipate working something out. Unless it just falls down around me and I have to change my name and move. I'm living with a pirate, five cats and an empty hole where at least one, if not two, greyhounds should be. I'm on the cusp of a promotion, which is causing a lot of work, and for a job where I have to show up and deal with other people all of the time, it could be a lot worse. The job makes good use of my skills, is not a bad commute and is interesting. Assuming that, like me, you are geeky enough to find the intricacies of a trash bag interesting. Not likely. But I am no more normal now, than I ever was. And sometimes I can hardly breathe or sleep, I am so stressed out and that is the one thing that I really need to fix but can't find my way to. But I have more friends that I've ever had, SOLID close ones and GOOD general ones and I feel more loved and appreciated and lucky than I have in a very long time. Perhaps ever.

2001: I'm what, 37 now. Two years ago we moved to Kensington, MD. It's our first house and we're very excited because the neighborhood has this cool Halloween event and it's a lot of fun. After years of retail and food service, working horrendous hours for not nearly enough money, I'm working for an association, producing conferences and educational programs/materials. I'm working on projects that are very serious -- food safety issues, country of origin labelling, bar codes -- but the shine of commuting downtown, wearing a suit every day and dealing with bureacracy and politcs is wearing off. After ten years of marriage, the shine has worn off of that, too. We're more like roommates -- having good times and sometimes bickering about stupid stuff...but the bickering is growing, mostly because I feel unloved and taken for granted and can't get my husband to respond to me in any measurable way. I can't remember the last time someone flirted with me...probably about a decade ago...and I feel fat and old and unattractive and am turning into a shrew. I decide that, in payback for putting him through school, I'm going to quit my job and start my own personal chef business. For a while, this improves everything. For a while.

1991: I'm 27 and just married...well, or will be before the leaves fall. I'm living in the town next to where I grew up, working at Williams-Sonoma, after decided that while Marketing Director for a Psychiatric Hospital sounds cool on the surface, it's a horrible job where I, barely out college, was supposed to supervise psychiatrists and psychologists assigned to do sales calls. I'm having a lot more fun, managing a retail store, although not making as much money. But I'm still naive enough to think that money and titles aren't that important, as long as you love what you do. Moron. We'll be moving to Rhode Island to open a new store right after the wedding and I'm so excited that I don't care that it means we have to postpone a "real" honeymoon until later. Moron. I'm working two other bartending jobs to make ends meet and put my husband through his master's degree. At a faculty dinner, a professor jokes that I should watch out -- after putting him through school, he'll take up with a younger co-ed and she'll get to enjoy the fruits of my labor. I say, straight-faced "Not if he's dead." Moron. I completely underestimated my ability to kill someone, and can take satisfaction only in that she was older and not a coed. But that's still to come.

1981: I'm 17 and living in Durham, CT, a ruralish town surrounded colleges and universities, so it's an odd mix of rednecks, college professors and highly educated dairy farmers. I have finally, after years of feeling awkward and out of place, come into my own a bit. I've found a group of friends that is as smart and awkward as I am and when we pool our social skills, we're almost cool. At least if you weigh teacher and parental opinion as much as peer. It helps when your school is too small to field a football team. I'm really good at riding horses. Really good. And it's given me enough confidence to finally stop hunching over my books and wearing clothing that hides the fact that I have breasts. I'm wearing tight shirts and tossing a blond mane and the geeks, at least, are lusting after me. (I'm also the track team's shotputter and I work on a stud farm after school, collecting...specimens, so it's a fear/lust kind of thing.) I'm still a virgin and determined to remain that way, for no more reason than I want to avoid drama. On Saturday nights I doubledate with my ex-boyfriend and his girlfriend, my best friend (which is a pattern I follow for most of my life) and I am alternating between dating gay men still in the closet and being set up with friends of friends. We buy 2 liter bottles of Diet Sprite, pour out a good third of it and fill it back up with vodka and then drive around Wesleyan university, from parking lot to parking lot, drinking and avoiding campus security. I feel fearless and like I can do anything I want. And more than a bit of an arrogant asshole. But funny.

1971: I'm 7 and we're still living in Danbury, CT in a Syrian and Lebanese neighborhood. So, pita bread, grape leaves and tabouli are comfort foods for me and as the only blonde head in the entire neighborhood, I have entire street of Grandmas and Grandpas who watch out for me. I'm so damn cute, I'm modeling for my parent's friend's agency. This is due to end soon, when the cute button nose asserts its true character and I go flying into prepubescence. The highlights of my life are going to my Grandparents house on the lake to swim, going to the library and ANYTHING that involves animals. I have a cat named Madame...which leads to interesting porn star names in my future...a dog named George and a Guinea pig named Do-Be. This is very close to my last year of not feeling awkward and out of place.
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: mistressfetch
2011-03-16 11:47 pm (UTC)
Okay..I'm sure you didn't mean that to be hilarious but I almost peed my pants. No one can top this one and I'm not even going to try :-)

*still laughing****btw..I want to have your babies :-)
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[User Picture]From: terribleturnip
2011-03-17 04:25 pm (UTC)
Good news, I meant it to be funny. Well, no. The only reason I did it was because I knew that writing the actual facts...it would BE funny.

Heh, my new motto: I don't MEAN to be funny, it just comes out that way.
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[User Picture]From: ferlonda
2011-03-17 01:30 am (UTC)
Interesting... I haven't seen this meme (or whatever you want to call it) before.

Re: the stress thing. I'm under a lot of stress right now (no, really) and have been since about August of last year when my Mom's breast cancer said, ha, ha, and metastasized as inoperable brain tumors (too many and too little to count) and I started doing 24/7 O'Mama Care with my sister and William. Last week I thought I was going to just totally implode. Not practical or possible given the continuing care I need to provide (and LOVE to provide) and of course St. Pat's Day wind-up gigs. I contacted an OBGYN friend of mine asking if it was okay to take beta blockers to get to sleep at night (hey, it worked when melatonin, kava kava, whiskey & gin, Reiki and EFT didn't) and she suggested taking supplements to support my adrenal glands.

HEY- 24 hours after the first pills I felt incredibly better. It was pretty cheap, too. I'm sleeping now (between wake up calls to help my Mom to the commode) and sleeping well, dreaming even, which is a nice change. I'm even looking forward to tomorrow's 12 hour gig which last week had me in a crying jag with a side of "I'm not doing a good enough job with my Mom," "Why did I sell my pony when I was 19?" and "GOD, I miss Ranzo!"

Maybe some adrenal support would be a thought? I can pass on my doc friend's recommendations if you like. I also highly recommend theanine and GABA. Whew- talk about calm in a pill, plus relatively cheap and not addictive. Also, no 30+ pound weight gain (associated with most anti-depressant/anxiety medications) and available at a store near YOU!

I hope you're coming up on a year of not feeling awkward and out of place. I hope I get to see you sometime before 2012 but failing that I hope I get to read your take on the end of the world/calendar.

*love!*
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[User Picture]From: terribleturnip
2011-03-17 04:32 pm (UTC)
Oh, thank you...but I have NO trouble getting to sleep. It's the 2am/3am BA-ZING, and I make the fatal error of starting to think about what I need to do....and two hours later...

Relaxation exercises can seem to get me back to sleep, if there aren't external extenuating circumstances. Expletive cats.

And I'm not much for taking stuff...hell, I'm supposed to be on Vitamin D supplements and I finally had to break down and buy a bottle of them for home AND a bottle for work AND a pillbox for my purse because I'm supposed to take them on a full stomach and...well, I just really can't get into a pill regimen. (So maybe I should be taking something for my memory...ha!)

I don't see exercise on your list! At least one brisk walk every day has made a world of difference -- took a couple of days to kick in. But that's definitely helped ramp down the stress.

So, that now I just VISUALIZE stomping someone into a pulp, instead of actually feeling the urge to do it.
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[User Picture]From: quislet
2011-03-23 02:15 am (UTC)
Calvin,

I adore you.

Jeffrey.
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