And I really thought things couldn't get any worse.
I was wrong. Today got worse, much worse. So much that I am now a broken being and still in shock from the day's events. When I say broken, I mean that my entire ego, my confidence in editing, my excitement to be in this major was absolutely shattered. In about... 10 minutes.
It all started when I finally got a hold of the department chair. I had spent all day long trying to catch him between meetings and finally, around 1:30, I was able to catch his attention for. Earlier today, I was shaking up a storm when I was supposed to go and see him (but he was in a meeting), so by the time that I did speak with him, I was more determined to just get the whole thing over with.
The conversation started out well enough. I told him about myself, that I had my AA in English and that I was a transfer student. He even joked with me about having started out as an English major himself. Then it began. I explained why I was there and my purpose for speaking with him, even though my adviser and the professor had already spoken with him. He told me that since the copy editing class did have a prerequisite, I would have to wait to take it. I would have easily agreed with him and left at that point, but he felt that he had to continue. He felt compelled to inform me that, just because I had my AA in English, it might mean that I was a good proofer but it definitely didn't mean that I was a good copy editor. He said that if he had the option, he would not have hired me at the newspaper last semester and insinuated that he probably wouldn't have hired me this semester either. He also told me that he was giving his copy editing students a quiz the next day and he was positive that I would fail it.
I left his office, devistated.
The current chief copy did her best to cheer me up, but I still don't really feel better. I feel broken. She assured me that there was a reason why she has me as the lead section copy editor. But I still feel broken.
So, about an hour later, I finally got a hold of my adviser. The adviser who had told me that he would take care of it. The adviser that never contacted me. As soon as I saw him, I told him what the department chair had said. I expected him, like always, to be sympathetic and on my side. However, instead, he pulled me aside and began to speak to me very quietly. He told me that the entire thing wouldn't have blown out of hand if I hadn't been late to the copy editing class in the first place. He BLAMED me for the whole thing. He told me that once I had let the instructor know, that once the instructor emailed the department head, everything had blown up. He basically blamed me.
After discussing it with many friends, I've come to the conclusion that I have landed in the middle of a tiff between two full grown men. I realize that this argument cannot be about me. I haven't done anything wrong. All that I did was tell the truth. I told the truth that I was in a class that I technically wasn't supposed to be in. It may have blown up on me, but I fought and lost. I had a man break me into a million pieces simply because he was frustrated that my adviser had told me to sign up for the class. Taking it out on me was wrong and I'm still broken and frustrated by it. However, I know that he probably didn't mean it.
Still... it'll take me a while to pick up the pieces.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
And Now Part 1 of the Dramatic Life of Megan...
I am convinced this day could not get any worse. And yes, right now, I look very much like this:
It started at 9:15 this morning. That's right. 9:15. When I woke up and realized that I was late for my first day of my 9am copy editing class. I don't think I've ever dressed so quickly. I realize that being a little late for a class isn't that big of a deal but I had heard stories of the professor that I was about to meet, so I thought that I was going to get grief about being late for sure. However, when I entered the class, breathless from running, the professor let me sit down without much of a problem. Sure, she teased me a little bit about being late but it wasn't bad. After doing a brief assignment of copy editing a story so that she could see where we were in our copy editing ability, I went up to apologize for being late. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot with this professor, especially because I wasn't supposed to take this class until after I took news-writing.
However, after she found out that I hadn't taken news-writing yet and that I was actually taking it this semester, she told me that I needed to talk to the department chair about being in the class. The same department chair, she also informed me, who forced her to drop 3 of her other students for taking news-writing at the same time as well.
JOLLY DAY.
I was devastated, of course. My adviser had promised me that taking this class would not be that big of a problem and I would be able to push through it fairly easily. So, I went to speak to him and he seemed surprised that he needed to speak to the department chair as well. What??? I thought to myself. Haven't you done this before?
I didn't hear from him the rest of the day (and still haven't heard from him... bad sign?) but I did run into my instructor. I got the guts up to ask her if she had spoken with the department head. She said that she had and he had said that, I quote, "under no circumstance is she allowed into your class this semester." No circumstance? What if I was dying and finishing my journalism major was my last dying wish? What if I was getting a job at a large magazine in the summer? No circumstance... I think wanting to be Chief Copy next semester is a freakin' decent circumstance. It means, "Hello. I'm willing to kick my butt taking a class that's going to be a little harder for me than other people because I'm taking the prereq at the same time instead of the semester before... see how dedicated I am???"
Anyway, I emailed the department chair (due to much persuading by the managing editor of the newspaper) and am going to go in and talk to him tomorrow, whether he emails me back or not. I will not take "no" for an answer until he tells it to my face. I'm not an ordinary student and I want him to know that, even if he tells me "no" again. I would be fighting for this a little bit harder if I didn't have 12 units (luckily the newspaper saves me with an extra 3 units because, technically, it's a "class"), but I do want this. And I'm not a fan of being told "no" when he doesn't even know me.
Apart from that, the day went fairly... I guess I could call it smoothly. (Since there were no tears. Weird things still happened.) My C.S. Lewis and Tolkien class took an interesting turn when 1) my professor decided to "make fun" of the story of Job in the Bible and 2) my professor decided to call this class useless and said that neither the works of Lewis or Tolkien were great works of literature. Luckily, with the first, I discovered that there is another fairly strong believer in Christ in my class, who I will probably be paired with for projects since we appear to be the only 2 Christians in a religious studies class. And with the second... I pretty much blew the professor away with why the works of Lewis and Tolkien not only matter, but are great works. (I'm going to give props to my background in Literature.) Then, in my other journalism class (it's a basic people & media class), my professor decided it would be funny if everyone told him what food we would be when he called our name for roll, and then made crude sexual jokes about whatever we picked. I don't give a darn if the man has tenure... he needs to learn some manners.
Right now, though, I need to begin to read 5 chapters of the Hobbit (due Thursday) and get some sleep so I don't wake up at 9:15 again. More to come with the events of tomorrow...
It started at 9:15 this morning. That's right. 9:15. When I woke up and realized that I was late for my first day of my 9am copy editing class. I don't think I've ever dressed so quickly. I realize that being a little late for a class isn't that big of a deal but I had heard stories of the professor that I was about to meet, so I thought that I was going to get grief about being late for sure. However, when I entered the class, breathless from running, the professor let me sit down without much of a problem. Sure, she teased me a little bit about being late but it wasn't bad. After doing a brief assignment of copy editing a story so that she could see where we were in our copy editing ability, I went up to apologize for being late. I did not want to start off on the wrong foot with this professor, especially because I wasn't supposed to take this class until after I took news-writing.
However, after she found out that I hadn't taken news-writing yet and that I was actually taking it this semester, she told me that I needed to talk to the department chair about being in the class. The same department chair, she also informed me, who forced her to drop 3 of her other students for taking news-writing at the same time as well.
JOLLY DAY.
I was devastated, of course. My adviser had promised me that taking this class would not be that big of a problem and I would be able to push through it fairly easily. So, I went to speak to him and he seemed surprised that he needed to speak to the department chair as well. What??? I thought to myself. Haven't you done this before?
I didn't hear from him the rest of the day (and still haven't heard from him... bad sign?) but I did run into my instructor. I got the guts up to ask her if she had spoken with the department head. She said that she had and he had said that, I quote, "under no circumstance is she allowed into your class this semester." No circumstance? What if I was dying and finishing my journalism major was my last dying wish? What if I was getting a job at a large magazine in the summer? No circumstance... I think wanting to be Chief Copy next semester is a freakin' decent circumstance. It means, "Hello. I'm willing to kick my butt taking a class that's going to be a little harder for me than other people because I'm taking the prereq at the same time instead of the semester before... see how dedicated I am???"
Anyway, I emailed the department chair (due to much persuading by the managing editor of the newspaper) and am going to go in and talk to him tomorrow, whether he emails me back or not. I will not take "no" for an answer until he tells it to my face. I'm not an ordinary student and I want him to know that, even if he tells me "no" again. I would be fighting for this a little bit harder if I didn't have 12 units (luckily the newspaper saves me with an extra 3 units because, technically, it's a "class"), but I do want this. And I'm not a fan of being told "no" when he doesn't even know me.
Apart from that, the day went fairly... I guess I could call it smoothly. (Since there were no tears. Weird things still happened.) My C.S. Lewis and Tolkien class took an interesting turn when 1) my professor decided to "make fun" of the story of Job in the Bible and 2) my professor decided to call this class useless and said that neither the works of Lewis or Tolkien were great works of literature. Luckily, with the first, I discovered that there is another fairly strong believer in Christ in my class, who I will probably be paired with for projects since we appear to be the only 2 Christians in a religious studies class. And with the second... I pretty much blew the professor away with why the works of Lewis and Tolkien not only matter, but are great works. (I'm going to give props to my background in Literature.) Then, in my other journalism class (it's a basic people & media class), my professor decided it would be funny if everyone told him what food we would be when he called our name for roll, and then made crude sexual jokes about whatever we picked. I don't give a darn if the man has tenure... he needs to learn some manners.
Right now, though, I need to begin to read 5 chapters of the Hobbit (due Thursday) and get some sleep so I don't wake up at 9:15 again. More to come with the events of tomorrow...
Barely Hanging On
I'm beginning to feel like the beginning of my semesters are going to start the same way over and over and over. Last semester, I had a problem with my legs. This semester, I have a cold that won't go away.
Last Monday began with a flu of about 102. Most of my friends freaked out and wanted to take me to the hospital but, after calling my mom, it was determined that I was fine. Heck, even the nurse at the student health center said I was fine (but I'm still having a tough time trying to trust those people.) Then came everything else that comes with a cold: the stuffy nose, the headaches, and the sore throat. I've had a million colds in my 21 years but nothing compared to the intensity of this one. As the week went on, a cough developed and, though my throat seemed fine during the day, at night it went all Dr. Jeckle on me. The past couple of nights have been impossible for me to sleep, either because I can't stop coughing or because my throat hurts so bad that I don't even want to consider swallowing. All the Halls in the world did absolutely nothing for either of those. So, I'm currently on amoxicillin and praying that all of this stuff goes away. I'd like to feel normal again.
That being said, school started back up again today. My first class, newswriting, was extremely awkward. The professor decided to call out not only the names but the majors and years of each student, so I quickly discovered that I was the only junior in a class filled with freshman and a few sophomores. I was on the verge of mentioning that I was on the newspaper staff but I don't want to get off to a bad start with all the younglings around me, so I kept my mouth shut. A little later in the day, I had my rock climbing class, which I had to drop due to the fact that the professor wanted to go on class trips on the weekends and my entire weekend is dedicated to the newspaper.
And speaking of the newspaper... if I said we were busy today, that would totally under-estimate how swamped we were. I spent the majority of my day downstairs with the rest of the editors, helping out as best as I could. My new job as Lead Section Copy Editor has definitely taken on many more responsibilities. I stepped out of the newspaper for an hour to go to a class and, in the time, I received a call from the Chief Copy Editor, wanting to know if I could edit four opinion stories that had arrived extremely late and the current opinion copy editor was at soccer practice. So, off I tromped to the basement again for 2 hours of copy editing. (I had been down there earlier for about 2 hours before my next class and, at that time, they didn't have anything for me to do.) Then, right after I left the school to go home and crash from all my copy editing time, I recieved another call, this time from the managing editor, who needed me to look over the final proof of a couple of stories because the Chief Copy Editor needed to go to class (class? What's that?) and didn't get the time to look over again. So, as I waited for my pasta to cook at home, I sat and edited another three stories.
I'm basically the on-call, go-to copy-editor, when people need someone.
I'm really glad that I decided to take this job before becoming Chief Copy, just so I start feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders getting heavier. I realize that this is the first week of school, so things are a bit crazy, but getting used to being on-call isn't too bad. Especially because I'm going to have a lot more responsibility next semester.
Tomorrow, I have a copy editing class, the religious study on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien, and Women, Men, and the Media. It should be an interesting day...
Now, if I could just stop coughing, the world would be dandy.
Last Monday began with a flu of about 102. Most of my friends freaked out and wanted to take me to the hospital but, after calling my mom, it was determined that I was fine. Heck, even the nurse at the student health center said I was fine (but I'm still having a tough time trying to trust those people.) Then came everything else that comes with a cold: the stuffy nose, the headaches, and the sore throat. I've had a million colds in my 21 years but nothing compared to the intensity of this one. As the week went on, a cough developed and, though my throat seemed fine during the day, at night it went all Dr. Jeckle on me. The past couple of nights have been impossible for me to sleep, either because I can't stop coughing or because my throat hurts so bad that I don't even want to consider swallowing. All the Halls in the world did absolutely nothing for either of those. So, I'm currently on amoxicillin and praying that all of this stuff goes away. I'd like to feel normal again.
That being said, school started back up again today. My first class, newswriting, was extremely awkward. The professor decided to call out not only the names but the majors and years of each student, so I quickly discovered that I was the only junior in a class filled with freshman and a few sophomores. I was on the verge of mentioning that I was on the newspaper staff but I don't want to get off to a bad start with all the younglings around me, so I kept my mouth shut. A little later in the day, I had my rock climbing class, which I had to drop due to the fact that the professor wanted to go on class trips on the weekends and my entire weekend is dedicated to the newspaper.
And speaking of the newspaper... if I said we were busy today, that would totally under-estimate how swamped we were. I spent the majority of my day downstairs with the rest of the editors, helping out as best as I could. My new job as Lead Section Copy Editor has definitely taken on many more responsibilities. I stepped out of the newspaper for an hour to go to a class and, in the time, I received a call from the Chief Copy Editor, wanting to know if I could edit four opinion stories that had arrived extremely late and the current opinion copy editor was at soccer practice. So, off I tromped to the basement again for 2 hours of copy editing. (I had been down there earlier for about 2 hours before my next class and, at that time, they didn't have anything for me to do.) Then, right after I left the school to go home and crash from all my copy editing time, I recieved another call, this time from the managing editor, who needed me to look over the final proof of a couple of stories because the Chief Copy Editor needed to go to class (class? What's that?) and didn't get the time to look over again. So, as I waited for my pasta to cook at home, I sat and edited another three stories.
I'm basically the on-call, go-to copy-editor, when people need someone.
I'm really glad that I decided to take this job before becoming Chief Copy, just so I start feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders getting heavier. I realize that this is the first week of school, so things are a bit crazy, but getting used to being on-call isn't too bad. Especially because I'm going to have a lot more responsibility next semester.
Tomorrow, I have a copy editing class, the religious study on C.S. Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien, and Women, Men, and the Media. It should be an interesting day...
Now, if I could just stop coughing, the world would be dandy.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Here We Go Again
I have to start therapy a week from this Friday and I have no idea if I'm prepared for it or not.
I don't know what to say about my dad or even where to begin. He haunts my dreams sometimes, always yelling about something, and I wake just wishing that he was gone. I hate wishing someone to just be gone from my life but it's true. What hurts so much is to be starting this again, to be telling the same stories all over again, to be reliving some of the same memories all over again. With my friends and my family... they know what he did. They know what he did to hurt me and my family. They know all the reasons why I despise the man with every last bone in my body. They know all the horrible things that he's done and said to make me wish he was on another planet. They know why I talk about how I don't really have a dad.
But I do have a dad and I have to talk about him next Friday. I have to talk about his verbal abusive attitude and his hate for everything in the world, and how he would treat everyone in my family horribly and say how wonderful his daughter, Megan, was. I have to talk about how everyone else outside my family couldn't believe me when I told them that living with him was like walking on egg-shells because "your father is such a good man and he seems to love you so much." I have to talk about what he's doing now, the lying and the toying he's doing with the lawyers.
And somehow... I have to find a solution. I have to come to terms with myself. I have to figure out a way not to hate myself so damn much... I have to figure out how to look in the mirror and see someone I'm proud of looking back, not someone who I absolutely loathe. I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't change my last name until I get married someday. I have to figure out how to be happy again.
But I just dont know where to begin.
I don't know what to say about my dad or even where to begin. He haunts my dreams sometimes, always yelling about something, and I wake just wishing that he was gone. I hate wishing someone to just be gone from my life but it's true. What hurts so much is to be starting this again, to be telling the same stories all over again, to be reliving some of the same memories all over again. With my friends and my family... they know what he did. They know what he did to hurt me and my family. They know all the reasons why I despise the man with every last bone in my body. They know all the horrible things that he's done and said to make me wish he was on another planet. They know why I talk about how I don't really have a dad.
But I do have a dad and I have to talk about him next Friday. I have to talk about his verbal abusive attitude and his hate for everything in the world, and how he would treat everyone in my family horribly and say how wonderful his daughter, Megan, was. I have to talk about how everyone else outside my family couldn't believe me when I told them that living with him was like walking on egg-shells because "your father is such a good man and he seems to love you so much." I have to talk about what he's doing now, the lying and the toying he's doing with the lawyers.
And somehow... I have to find a solution. I have to come to terms with myself. I have to figure out a way not to hate myself so damn much... I have to figure out how to look in the mirror and see someone I'm proud of looking back, not someone who I absolutely loathe. I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't change my last name until I get married someday. I have to figure out how to be happy again.
But I just dont know where to begin.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Author's Photos
I was so excited to open up my email today and find that my Author Photo's from the Night of Writing Dangerously during my November NaNoWriMo experience. I'm still trying to figure out which photo is the best and which I would put on the back cover of my first novel. So, I'm going to post them all here and you can decide!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Getting Healthy
Today, I tried wheat grass for the first time.
My friends from the newspaper are finally all back in town and we have been having a blast together. One of my friends (ironically, the relationship columnist for the newspaper) got engaged on New Years Eve, so we've been trying to spend as much time as we can with her before she moves to Denver in June to be with her fiance. I'm really stoked because, sometime this week, we're going to this place called The Melting Pot, which is a really fancy fondu restaurant. I'll definitely have photos to share of the experience.
One of the things that my friends and I are planning this semester is to try to get fit. I'm taking a rock climbing class at the university on Mondays and we're trying to go to the university gym for zumba (aerobic dancing) several times a week. Of course, getting healthy means eating right as well and getting healthy also means dedication. So, we're going to begin a blog about our experiences and struggles for the next 5 months. I'll link that blog to this one if anyone is curious to read it. It'll be frustrating sometimes, occasionally funny, and definitely educational.
Today's healthy experience involved trying wheat grass for the first time. Wheat grass is supposed to be a cleanser for the system. What did it taste like? Grass. But it wasn't completely horrible. Grass has a fairly decent smell and it sort of tasted the way that it smells. I don't think I'll be doing it every day but... try everything once, right?
Now... if I could get rid of this cold, I would feel ok about this whole "get fit" thing.
My friends from the newspaper are finally all back in town and we have been having a blast together. One of my friends (ironically, the relationship columnist for the newspaper) got engaged on New Years Eve, so we've been trying to spend as much time as we can with her before she moves to Denver in June to be with her fiance. I'm really stoked because, sometime this week, we're going to this place called The Melting Pot, which is a really fancy fondu restaurant. I'll definitely have photos to share of the experience.
One of the things that my friends and I are planning this semester is to try to get fit. I'm taking a rock climbing class at the university on Mondays and we're trying to go to the university gym for zumba (aerobic dancing) several times a week. Of course, getting healthy means eating right as well and getting healthy also means dedication. So, we're going to begin a blog about our experiences and struggles for the next 5 months. I'll link that blog to this one if anyone is curious to read it. It'll be frustrating sometimes, occasionally funny, and definitely educational.
Today's healthy experience involved trying wheat grass for the first time. Wheat grass is supposed to be a cleanser for the system. What did it taste like? Grass. But it wasn't completely horrible. Grass has a fairly decent smell and it sort of tasted the way that it smells. I don't think I'll be doing it every day but... try everything once, right?
Now... if I could get rid of this cold, I would feel ok about this whole "get fit" thing.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Sorry to all this offends...
Monday, January 11, 2010
Publishing
So, I met with a very good friend today and we fell into the conversation of publishing.
I'm very close to being done with the second draft of my book. In fact, if I can just crank out these last ten chapters, I'll be able to start editing. And from there... I'm not entirely sure what I want to do. There's many options. I could try and find and agent and publish that way. I could try and send my manuscript to publishers to see if I could get it published that way. OR I could self publish.
Self publishing is beginning to have an appeal to me. Originally, years ago, I would have never consider the option. Now, it doesn't seem like the other two options are a good idea at the moment. If I self publish, I'll be able to promote the book myself, have family and friends buy it and read it, and hopefully have it start building a bit of a fan base that way. It might be a little pricey in the beginning but, hopefully, it'll start getting a little more rewarding as time goes on.
So, I'm beginning to get revved up for the new year. I'm going to try to do a chapter at least every day (if not every two days) so I can get those ten chapters done in a couple of weeks. Then I'm going to crack down on the editing. Hopefully, if everything goes well, I will have my stuff up in at least 6 months for everyone to be able to buy a hardcopy of. I want to start getting this done. I want everyone to see what I'm writing.
And I'm guessing (right now) that the only way to do that at the moment is to self-publish.
I'm very close to being done with the second draft of my book. In fact, if I can just crank out these last ten chapters, I'll be able to start editing. And from there... I'm not entirely sure what I want to do. There's many options. I could try and find and agent and publish that way. I could try and send my manuscript to publishers to see if I could get it published that way. OR I could self publish.
Self publishing is beginning to have an appeal to me. Originally, years ago, I would have never consider the option. Now, it doesn't seem like the other two options are a good idea at the moment. If I self publish, I'll be able to promote the book myself, have family and friends buy it and read it, and hopefully have it start building a bit of a fan base that way. It might be a little pricey in the beginning but, hopefully, it'll start getting a little more rewarding as time goes on.
So, I'm beginning to get revved up for the new year. I'm going to try to do a chapter at least every day (if not every two days) so I can get those ten chapters done in a couple of weeks. Then I'm going to crack down on the editing. Hopefully, if everything goes well, I will have my stuff up in at least 6 months for everyone to be able to buy a hardcopy of. I want to start getting this done. I want everyone to see what I'm writing.
And I'm guessing (right now) that the only way to do that at the moment is to self-publish.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Weddings, Weddings, in the Air
And in 2010... *drumroll*
So far, there are going to be 3 weddings, one friend got engaged at New Years, one other friend got engaged during Christmas break, and my best friend will probably be engaged by the end of the year.
I keep forgetting that this is the time in my life when all the weddings are supposed to begin, so all of these engagements have come as a pleasant surprise. So far, I've been invited to two weddings and, probably, a third, and spoken with a friend about her bachelorette party. And, I'll admit, I'm a little jealous of all those people who getting to start planning their big white wedding.
I wrote, a long time ago, about the fear. Yes, I am still deathly afraid of marriage. I once was the girl who thought that I would have one of those families where the parents stay together (and I wouldn't have to be going to therapy for a second time.) I mean, while the promise is there when you get married, it no longer seems to be a guarantee in America. And divorce is just horrible. My parents got divorced two years ago and things still aren't over. So why get married when there's that possibilty, right?
And yet...
It's not just the big white wedding (or, in my financial case, what will someday be a very small white wedding) or the planning or the parties. It's more of the theory that even though marriage could turn into divorce, everyone is taking that chance. And, literally, everything with a chance has the possibility of going the way you didn't want it to. Applying to college? I might not have gotten in. Taking classes? I might have failed them. Working at the student newspaper? I could have gotten fired. Or something more basic: driving a car. I could get into an accident.
I guess the real reason why I'm jealous and desire what so many of my friends are doing right now is because of the chance. They all get to take that chance, that wonderful chance, that they are putting so much effort into being good but could potentially turn out badly. I would like to take that chance. I would like to put in the effort and know what I'm going for and heading towards. I would like to someday say, "hey, I took that chance, and now, 30 years of marriage later, here we still are!"
I would like to be the exception. The good of the chance. The marriage that didn't fail.
So far, there are going to be 3 weddings, one friend got engaged at New Years, one other friend got engaged during Christmas break, and my best friend will probably be engaged by the end of the year.
I keep forgetting that this is the time in my life when all the weddings are supposed to begin, so all of these engagements have come as a pleasant surprise. So far, I've been invited to two weddings and, probably, a third, and spoken with a friend about her bachelorette party. And, I'll admit, I'm a little jealous of all those people who getting to start planning their big white wedding.
I wrote, a long time ago, about the fear. Yes, I am still deathly afraid of marriage. I once was the girl who thought that I would have one of those families where the parents stay together (and I wouldn't have to be going to therapy for a second time.) I mean, while the promise is there when you get married, it no longer seems to be a guarantee in America. And divorce is just horrible. My parents got divorced two years ago and things still aren't over. So why get married when there's that possibilty, right?
And yet...
It's not just the big white wedding (or, in my financial case, what will someday be a very small white wedding) or the planning or the parties. It's more of the theory that even though marriage could turn into divorce, everyone is taking that chance. And, literally, everything with a chance has the possibility of going the way you didn't want it to. Applying to college? I might not have gotten in. Taking classes? I might have failed them. Working at the student newspaper? I could have gotten fired. Or something more basic: driving a car. I could get into an accident.
I guess the real reason why I'm jealous and desire what so many of my friends are doing right now is because of the chance. They all get to take that chance, that wonderful chance, that they are putting so much effort into being good but could potentially turn out badly. I would like to take that chance. I would like to put in the effort and know what I'm going for and heading towards. I would like to someday say, "hey, I took that chance, and now, 30 years of marriage later, here we still are!"
I would like to be the exception. The good of the chance. The marriage that didn't fail.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
It's big, it's black, and it's in a home near you...
Today, we bring you a special announcement, straight from Megan's apartment:
My worst fear has been brought to light.
Recently, in the past couple of days, I have notice strange spots on the upper part of the wall and ceiling of my shower. A normal person (who is definitely not me) might disregard these spots but I, on the other hand, have much bigger fish to fry. And, today, upon closer inspection of these spots, my worst fears were confirmed.
The Black Mold.
I am to mold as my father is to shoes. When I was younger, my father had this rule that as soon as my sister and I would wear through the tiny piece of fabric that separates your foot from the sole of the shoe, we would have to get new shoes. Now I wait until there are holes physical appearing somewhere, mainly at the bottom (which would insinuate that, if it rained, water might leak in and soak my feet) until I get new shoes. Rubber is rubber, one piece of fabric isn't going to change that. But my father didn't care. Just as I don't care for mold. Over and over, I used to insist that my mother throw out loaves of bread where the traces of mold might appear. My mother, of course, would throw the moldy piece out, and maybe the once next to it, insisting the bread eatable. I would switch to a different lunch menu and avoid sandwiches until she pulled a new loaf from the freezer. I hate mold. I hate the idea of a living organism growing on my food. I cant stand cheese that still has that weird white moldy outside to it (and people insist that it's AGED and it tastes BETTER, but to heck with them) and the only reason why I allow myself to eat Swiss cheese is because all traces of mold are gone. Call it a character quirk or whatever you will but all I can think of is attacking that black mold. I want it GONE. I want it TO DIE.
So, needless to say, it took all of my nerves to stay in that shower this morning and finish washing the shampoo out of my hair. But, once the last of it was gone, off went the shower and out I flew, away from my biggest terror. Ignoring the fact that if I didn't get to drying my hair, it would look like a 2 year old took a bunch of hair rollers to it in odd angles, I grabbed the first thing I found in my kitchen (multi-purpose cleaner) and set about scrubbing the walls of my shower. Then... was that BROWN MOLD growing on the lip above my shower? I don't think I've ever cleaned the shower so quickly.
You think I'm weird? Black mold is TOXIC! It's a living organism, eating away the paint in your walls and, if you breathe the fumes, you could get sick. You could even DIE. And I, for one, am not about to die because of inhaling black mold. That's what the 60's and 70's were all about.
So now I wait, under cover of darkness, a bottle of multi-purpose cleaner in my hand. It's there. It could be waiting for its next wave of attack. This could just be the beginning.
And I want to be ready.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Note: I just want to let everyone know that I have made an appointment for therapy. I start two Fridays from now and I'm nervous. But I'm going.
My worst fear has been brought to light.
Recently, in the past couple of days, I have notice strange spots on the upper part of the wall and ceiling of my shower. A normal person (who is definitely not me) might disregard these spots but I, on the other hand, have much bigger fish to fry. And, today, upon closer inspection of these spots, my worst fears were confirmed.
The Black Mold.
I am to mold as my father is to shoes. When I was younger, my father had this rule that as soon as my sister and I would wear through the tiny piece of fabric that separates your foot from the sole of the shoe, we would have to get new shoes. Now I wait until there are holes physical appearing somewhere, mainly at the bottom (which would insinuate that, if it rained, water might leak in and soak my feet) until I get new shoes. Rubber is rubber, one piece of fabric isn't going to change that. But my father didn't care. Just as I don't care for mold. Over and over, I used to insist that my mother throw out loaves of bread where the traces of mold might appear. My mother, of course, would throw the moldy piece out, and maybe the once next to it, insisting the bread eatable. I would switch to a different lunch menu and avoid sandwiches until she pulled a new loaf from the freezer. I hate mold. I hate the idea of a living organism growing on my food. I cant stand cheese that still has that weird white moldy outside to it (and people insist that it's AGED and it tastes BETTER, but to heck with them) and the only reason why I allow myself to eat Swiss cheese is because all traces of mold are gone. Call it a character quirk or whatever you will but all I can think of is attacking that black mold. I want it GONE. I want it TO DIE.
So, needless to say, it took all of my nerves to stay in that shower this morning and finish washing the shampoo out of my hair. But, once the last of it was gone, off went the shower and out I flew, away from my biggest terror. Ignoring the fact that if I didn't get to drying my hair, it would look like a 2 year old took a bunch of hair rollers to it in odd angles, I grabbed the first thing I found in my kitchen (multi-purpose cleaner) and set about scrubbing the walls of my shower. Then... was that BROWN MOLD growing on the lip above my shower? I don't think I've ever cleaned the shower so quickly.
You think I'm weird? Black mold is TOXIC! It's a living organism, eating away the paint in your walls and, if you breathe the fumes, you could get sick. You could even DIE. And I, for one, am not about to die because of inhaling black mold. That's what the 60's and 70's were all about.
So now I wait, under cover of darkness, a bottle of multi-purpose cleaner in my hand. It's there. It could be waiting for its next wave of attack. This could just be the beginning.
And I want to be ready.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Note: I just want to let everyone know that I have made an appointment for therapy. I start two Fridays from now and I'm nervous. But I'm going.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
All I need now is an airship...
And maybe a bodice.
Steamcon is in November this year and the boyfriend and I have made it our goal to go. I've never seen Seattle and I've always wanted to go, see the Space Needle and the original Starbucks. Now we have a reason to go. Since Steamcon is so inexpensive, all our expenses will go into driving up there and staying for a couple of days. Yay!
Anyway, I'm stoked outta my head today because I FINALLY got my beautiful steampunk skirt in the mail. It's taken several weeks to get here and I wasted no time trying it on. Of course, this isn't the final project but it's a good start! I'm wearing: steampunk aviator goggles, Jayne Cobb beanie (from the show "Firefly"), brown tanktop, beige steamwheel skirt.
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Steamcon is in November this year and the boyfriend and I have made it our goal to go. I've never seen Seattle and I've always wanted to go, see the Space Needle and the original Starbucks. Now we have a reason to go. Since Steamcon is so inexpensive, all our expenses will go into driving up there and staying for a couple of days. Yay!
Anyway, I'm stoked outta my head today because I FINALLY got my beautiful steampunk skirt in the mail. It's taken several weeks to get here and I wasted no time trying it on. Of course, this isn't the final project but it's a good start! I'm wearing: steampunk aviator goggles, Jayne Cobb beanie (from the show "Firefly"), brown tanktop, beige steamwheel skirt.
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