Well, today is my birthday

And I went to work.  In the past, I had always booked the day of my birthday off, but I took a day off a few weeks ago. Then I got very sick about two weeks ago, so with the amount of work that had piled up, I wasn't really in a position to be relaxed on a day off.  In my previous life, I was in retail, so taking the day off for your birthday was mandatory for survival.  Otherwise, you'd have a shitastic birthday.  Ugh.  Retail.  Every so often, I think about bringing in a little cash around Christmas by working some shifts at some local place, and then I remember how bad it could be. 

Let me be clear, it's not always bad.  But I would take a bad day in my office over a bad day in retail anytime.  If I flip out in my office now, I don't have to deal with anyone I don't know.  They're all - moderately - friendly faces.  They're not people I've never met who will tell my boss I looked at them funny, or I didn't tell them to have a nice day.  Anyway, I much prefer the stress I'm feeling now to my retail stress.  Impotent office rage. Delicious.  

Besides, my plans for work today resembled something like this:

(I think it's from Black Books, which is worth a watch)

What really ended up happening is I got a lot done today.  This was good, because - truthfully - I didn't have time for that.  Plus, a couple of friends at work took me out to lunch, which was nice.  Shortly after they politely listened to me talk about my new Jeeves and Wooster boxset, the topic turned to running, which I have little or nothing to contribute.  

I tried running once.

My lunch was tasty, though, and I'm not really supposed to be talking right now, so it was good.  My one friend ran 10k in about 52 or 53 minutes so that's cool.  She started out fast and just kept her pace.  I may have walked that far in 52 or 53 minutes, if I was told there was pie at the end.   

At any rate, the truth is that it's been a good year for me since my last birthday.  I moved out of the scary part of town, into a new apartment that I love (I'm sitting in my study!  Guys, I have a study!), dated some super cool people (Phd Engineer, Aircraft Mechanic...plus that ice cream douche. Nevermind, he's not super cool), really discovered the awesomeness and sexiness in one of my friends (Ted), got a small raise (yearly increase, but - hey! I wasn't fired). Oh, and about an hour ago, I got to have this conversation:

Me:  I'm looking for a nice white wine. 

Her: Okay, what will you be enjoying this wine with?

Me: A book.

Her: ...

Her: ...Chick-lit, or murder mystery?

Me:  HA!  What have you got your hand on?  Ring it up.

When I was really sick a couple of weeks ago, my dad brought me some groceries.  Alongside those groceries, he brought some of his sundried tomato chicken pasta sauce.  I kept it in the freezer until finally having it for supper tonight, alongside that wine (the book will be read alongside shortly).

All in all a nice birthday.  I'm 31 this year, by the way.  And I feel 31.  No more, no less.  

What the hell is wrong with us?

I got to number three before realizing it's a beautiful day outside, and I can go visit my family.

http://www.starpulse.com/news/index.php/2013/03/26/13_of_our_favorite_celebrity_fiveheads?page=1

Seriously, guys, seriously.

Also, if I discover this person was paid for this, I'm going to take up cutting myself as a hobby.

The post I had planned to write yesterday

Yesterday, I wrote a small entry about a bit of asinine crap in my office.  There was something much bigger I had wanted to write about, but couldn't yet. Don't get me wrong, this office bullshit is an issue very near and dear to my heart, but this post is quite important to me.

I hate romantic comedies.  When I watch a romantic comedy, I throw popcorn at the screen, call the protagonist a slut, and generally get angry because it's usually some silly broad who doesn't see and appreciate whatever she has in front of her.  You know, the 'friendzone'. I imagine it would entertaining to watch, but I tend to partake in romantic comedies alone, because I turn into a teary mess during them.

Sometime ago, after yet another failed relationship (not his fault or mine, oddly enough, just crummy circumstances), I finished our final conversation, and was staring at my phone.  There was only one person in the world I wanted to talk to: Ted*.

"It's 10:30 pm on a Friday and you're lonely, Amy.  Go to bed." said the smart voice in my head.  So I did.

The next morning, Ted messaged me, and we ended up chatting all day.  I met him about 2 years ago, through a popular social network site.  We became friends who were clearly interested in being more.  Eventually, we started chatting about actually meeting in person.  Before we had set the plans in stone, I freaked out, cancelled everything, and stopped talking to him.  I'm not proud of this point in the story, it's just what happened.

Over time, we became friends again, flirting occasionally, never making plans to meet. He'd date some ladies, I'd date some fellas, we would talk about it.  Talk about what was working in our relationships, what wasn't.  Share news of victories at work and any big events in our lives. We'd maybe go a couple of weeks without talking, then have a 3 hour long texting session.  Good friends.

So, for the last few weeks, he and I were back in touch and simultaneously single for the first time in quite awhile.  I booked Friday, April 5, off of work, and used the time to drive to Ted's house.  Ted's house.  Where Ted lives.  Up north, a 7 hour drive away.

I'm absolutely smitten with this man.  We had just met, and it was like we hadn't missed moment.  There were some nerves meeting, of course, but they went away so quickly.  The feelings we have for each other are quite strong. We both laughed a lot, and it was an amazing weekend.  He'll be coming down here for a visit soon.



*Clearly not his name, sorry guys.  He'll most likely be mentioned fairly frequently in the blog, and I'm going to need a clever or smart way to refer to him without giving away names.  I haven't found the right reference term for him yet.  It's still early.  Suggestions are welcome.

Gratitude in the Office

I tend not to write about my work here. Truthfully, I try to avoid discussing my work anywhere in my online world, particularly because I imagine my posts could become emotionally fueled (as they always do) and write something so awful I end up screwing my bill payment/feeding schedule.   However, I wanted to address this.

There's a strange division of culture within my workplace.  Most of the office staff can be divided into two groups based on the nature of their work: 

Group A arrives at work at 8am, boots up their computer and pecks away at the numerous requests that arrive throughout the day.  They usually pack their lunch, sometimes working through it.  At 4:01, their computer is shut-down, and they head home for the day.  There are a number of good, skilled workers in this group, and most of them have a lot of experience in what they do and a college diploma under their belt.

Group B are jet-setters.  They may roll into the office at 10am, but this could be for any number of reasons (for example, a 7am meeting to work around our clients' schedules).  The boss gives them the latitude they need to get their work done, simply trusting them to keep track of their own time.  In many ways, they're the elite.  They generally have more education than Group A, and they earn more money.  I need to make it clear at this point that I think most of the people in Group B work very hard and don't have an easy job (I do believe there are some that screw around a lot, though).  At the heart of them, the people in Group B are social creatures, which causes Group A a bit of aggravation at times.  Group B often pops out for lunches with 4 or more of them, and they can be loud and boisterous about it.

Now, I tend to think of myself as stuck in between these two groups.  I work most closely with Group B, so I do see how hard they work, but I understand Group A's frustration with the ruckus and goings on.

Enter the Paper Chain of Gratitude Resentment.

Several months back - I believe around Thanksgiving - a member of Group B started a little project in our office.  This particular individual works volunteering with teens when she's outside of the office and brought a little of that spunk into the workplace.  She's distributed a baggy of markers and paper strips and we are constructing a chain of gratitude that moves from person to person around the office.  I've seen more than one member of Group A get angry at having this dumped unceremoniously on their desk ("as if I have time for this shit").  At any rate, this paper chain has made its way to me.  I took it, brought it home, and set it on my desk.

This was a few weeks ago.  It's still there.  I hate it.  This kind of shit just smacks of insincerity.

Here we are again: First Date Jitters II

Several things:

1) I had a lovely time with my mother.  We drank pink champagne on Friday night and ate pizza, then went to market on Saturday morning and got a roast for the evening.  She had said she was hoping to buy me some stuff for the apartment, so I got a nice footstool and wee reading lamp, both for my little reading corner. We also found a lovely piece of fabric at Value Village and, in a drunken state, hung it over the living room window.   We also watched Cold Comfort Farm and Arrested Development.  Lots of chatting, including a lot of stuff about our respective therapists.  Also, she cleaned my kitchen like only a mother can.

I kinda like it.

2) I've taken today off, simply because I had the time to take.  I almost feel guilty about it, although I really shouldn't, as I've already put in today's time.  I'm using the time to go and have a good visit with my sister-in-law.  I really like hanging out with her (she's the sister I never had), but sometimes it's hard because my niece and nephew tend to demand attention from both of us while I'm there.  Both of the kids will be gone in the morning, so I've bought some fabric scraps in the hopes that we can make little flower barrettes for ourselves.  If they turn out, I'll post pictures later.

3)  I have a date this evening.  It is with the gentleman I had posted about earlier, wherein I hadn't heard from him for several days, so I made the bold move of giving him my number.  Well, he did get in touch with me, many times.  I think he's quite cute and he seems to be just exciting and exotic enough to keep me interested.  Also, he has a very cool job as an aircraft mechanic (seriously, how cool is that?  This is right up there with the pride I feel about some of my brother's jobs*).  He's been playing his cards a little close to his chest, but on Thursday he made it clear that he was interested and we should meet.  Soon.

At any rate, we've been chatting for a couple of weeks now, and I'm quite nervous about finally meeting him.   The plan is to go for coffee and if coffee works out, we'll head out for dinner.  I think one of us will have to screw up badly for us not to go for dinner**.  No idea what I'm going to wear.

Wish me luck?

*He makes trailers for horses! He makes choo-choo trains! He makes military stuff, and he can't take pictures at work! Oooh!  Also, he used to work in a movie theatre! Fancy!

**Like that guy who made 3 separate rape jokes when I was first chatting with him. Fantastic.

My mother is coming this weekend.

My mother.  This weekend.  She announced her intentions via text yesterday, in the middle of my workday. Oh, you're coming to visit, that's nice.  I'll go down to *insert-brother's-name-here* place and see you.

But that was not what she meant.  She meant to come and see me.  And stay over.

"My dentist* thinks it will be good for me.  He also thinks it will be good for you."
"Tell your dentist I don't pay him."  If I did, it would be for his silence.

It will be good for me.  I genuinely need to relax more.  Cleaning my apartment in a panic on a Thursday night is just what the doctor ordered.  I love my mother, she's sweet.  She may also be the crux of the clusterfuck I call my brain.  If I were a drug-addicted celebrity, I'd probably mention her name while refusing to admit my own culpability**.

It will be good for my mother and I to have some girly time.  So often, we see her with this big barnacle attached (her husband), and we all end up feeling strangely... awkward?  I've known him for a long time now, I'm just tired of his stories.  He has a tendency to bring up news pieces and then talk about money***. My mother is planning on bringing pizza from home (the city she's in makes really good pizza), and then... watch a movie?  Maybe go to the market on Saturday morning.  Whatever, it'll be fine.  I just hope we don't end up watching a tearjerker together, those aren't good.  OOH!  I'll make her watch some Arrested Development!  Awesome.

My social life is exploding at the moment.  People are planning things with me about 3 months in advance, forcing me to admit two truths:

1) I am a grownup now.
2) Fuck your grownup-edness, I want to write and drink and just sit over here quietly for awhile, can I please sit over here quietly for awhile.  The shorter way of typing point 2 is to simply say "I don't want to grow up."




*Therapist.  Like mother, like daughter.
**As is my god-given right as a celebrity. And as a drug addict, judging from some people I know.  Shells of people. She sells sea shells of people, by the sea shore.  That's even harder to type than it is to say.
***"Can you believe they spent 50 million dollars on that?" he would say.  "Yes.  They are the government, and they're building a bridge.  This isn't someone's income, it's a bridge," I would reply.

Well, I've cocked that up nicely. But that's okay.

As you may have read in this morning's entry, I left my phone number with a gentleman I had been in touch with through a dating site.  He did text me this afternoon, and we - eventually, after being interrupted by my male friend from work (and admitting it! D'oh!), and him on the phone with his parents (so he said), and all the other distractions went away - have a nice little texting chat.  Around 9, even though we'd started chatting at 4ish.  I'm not sure I'll hear from him again, but it was a nice chat, nonetheless.

Earlier this week, I came to the conclusion that I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to dating.  Five minutes after I realized that, a second truth hit me.  No one has any idea what they're doing when it comes to dating. This was comforting.  For about, oh, 20 seconds.  The fact that there are no actual rules (other than a douchebag book that everyone makes fun of) allows me to justify absolutely any craziness I want.

I've never been a stalker, by any means.  Quite the opposite.  One of my most serious relationships ended with him breaking up with me over the phone (the phone! After a year and a half!).  I admit I took a bit of times afterwards trying to convince him to get back together (week 1), then trying to understand why (week 2*), and then finally the don't-touch-me-I'm-just-here-for-my-espresso-machine (week 3.  Or maybe four.  I was really sad when I realized I'd left the espresso machine at his place**.)  Now, despite the fact that the dumping occurred over the phone, this guy was a great guy.  He was friends with his exes.

Homey don't play dat.

I cannot be friends with my exes.  Even when I'm the one who initiated the breakup (which, embarrassingly is usually the case), it just hurts too much to be like "ah, one of us would rather be alone than naked together anymore.  Yes, we should totally get a pizza/coffee/thumbscrews."

As for justifying the craziness, I sent that guy my phone number, and he did text me.  But that's my last move, until he makes a couple.  I needed to just make it abundantly clear that I was interested, otherwise, I couldn't have just left it alone wondering if he's shy*** or some other bullshit.  Now that I've made my move, I can leave it alone.



*Week 2 was also characterized by statements like "Over the phone?  Really, asshole?!"
**Part of what we'd originally bonded over was our love of a good strong cup of coffee.  In the later months of our relationship, he'd given up coffee altogether to become this healthy machine.   Quite frankly, he looked awesome physically, but there became very few things we did together.  This, coupled with a major downswing in my mood and looming college graduation (I would have wanted the opportunity to move anywhere in Ontario.  I ended up staying in the same city, but that's just luck of the draw), made the death of the relationship inevitable.
***All the dating advice says that if he's interested, he'll let you know without a doubt.  My brother and father have told me this is not true; men can be just plain shy.  These are two men whose opinions I trust.