A What In The Who Now?

I spent the morning at my school untangling the usual difficulties...

...only to return to my office and amuse myself with using Microsoft Word to compose 'Message' slips for the Valentine's Day Candy Fundraiser taking place at the school next week...

...and to think about the absurdity of organizing a Valentine's Day Fundraiser which involves the secret delivery of chocolate roses with notes, in that it mirrors an event held at my high school in which students received carnations from secret admirers - an annual tradition that was almost always traumatic due to the inevitable analysis of how many flowers one received and the direct proportionality to one's self-worth/popularity...

...which leads to wondering why I'm promoting the celebration of Valentine's Day at all...

...and causes me to reconsider my decision to reactivate my profile on match.com starting February 1st, because I'm not really in the right mindset to date anyone right now and given how painfully things shook out last time I was on match.com, do I really want to open myself up to that again?

...even though it's technically not match.com's fault, and as much as I'd like to place the blame squarely on Dr. Phil, the whole unraveling had very little to do with internet dating per se...

...but then maybe I just need to make a firm decision about the guy that I've been sort-of-but-not-quite dating for the past two months...

...and while I'm at it, figure out why I'm overly invested in the ridiculous messages flying back and forth between me and someone I've been referring to as 'myspace guy' (because, hey, I found him on myspace, and he's a guy)...

...but what I really need to do is just get back to work so I can leave on time to go to the gym, since my attempt at running last night resulted in a paltry 2 miles, and that's certainly not going to get me anywhere close to where I need to be on April 29th.

For Realz

I've finally calmed my life down. Part of the shift was a growing acceptance that I am once again an adult (as opposed to a graduate student - and believe me, there is a huge difference) who has to go to work and (gasp) be productive for 8-10 hours a day.

I supposed it also helps that I've been on the wagon for the past month, and will most likely continue a bit longer - although I do have a dinner date on Thursday at Dinosaur Barbeque, and can I seriously be expected to go beerless while I'm eating my way through a Big Ass Pork Plate?

Weekend: Restaurant Week, running, movies, errands, Veronica Mars marathon, laundry, more running, visiting the 'rents, eating cake, even more running. (Believe me, the cake eating is necessary to, um, keep up my strength for training.)

Lately: Well, since I've been called out on it elsewhere, I might as well confess that I've been watching a lot of stuff on abc.com. It's amazing how quickly your evenings pass while you're catching up on an entire season's worth of shows. And how little you actually have to talk to real people. And how much clearer the reception is on your computer than on your tiny 13 inch antenna-powered television.

Good One

I started today in a equi-shitty mood (carry over from yesterday). However, that all changed when I got my mail this afternoon, which contained marketing materials for a luxury residence they are opening in my neighborhood. Enclosed therein was an explanation of the benefits of purchasing a condo in their building. My monthly costs would only be $4500.00 and I'd be earning equity and tax deductions!!!!

I'll get right on that....after I stop laughing.

Challenges Are Opportunities In Disguise

I'm not so in love with my job lately.

I've been supervisorless since January 2nd.

I will be losing my office within the next 30 days to a group of family practice doctors. There is no plan in place as to where I will go.

I'm still wrangling with my union over health insurance. No-one seems to be able to discern when my benefits start, but they are very good at deducting union dues from each paycheck.

I have a number of counseling clients whose issues are escalating, and I have no support/input as to whether my treatment modalities are effective (see 'supervisorless' above).

On Monday, a packet containing white powder was found in the semi-public bathroom across from my office. Yesterday, I arrived at work to find that someone had broken into my office and stolen client metrocards from my desk.

The Social Work Interns, in addition to being silly and immature, frequently call in sick. They are in the same program that I graduated from last May. They embarrass me.

And this morning, I got caught between some sort of power-struggle/pissing contest between our admin and another staff member.

Luckily, Yahoo Astrology is here for me:

A rude or unpleasant person will make your morning very interesting -- and give you a fresh perspective on where you are in your life right now. This person offers an example of what not to do ... and seeing him or her in action will make you very grateful for the choices you have made in your life. Your diplomacy will serve you well as you take stock of all the gifts you have in life. Extend a kind hand to the people who use anger to hide their sadness.

It's so clear now. To work my way out of this sulk, all that I need to do is breathe deeply and remind myself of the utter fabulousness of the non-work side of my life.

Damn.

I must be doing something wrong, because I'm having difficulty achieving a Zen-like state of mind. Any hand that I'm extending at the moment is likely to be engaged in a back-of-the-head punch, rather than in kindness.

Yeah, Not So Much

As it turns out, eating cotton candy at MSG until you feel ill, then embarking on a 3.5 mile training run is not a good idea.

Below, my team at the close of their miserable performance on Sunday. Or perhaps they're reacting to my poor nutrition choices.



Oh, and the even better part of Sunday's game?

The loss snapped Syracuse's 47-game winning streak against schools in New York state. The last in-state school to beat the Orange was St. John's, 76-75 on Feb. 19, 2000.

ATTENTION NEW YORKERS:

This is what my travel coffee mug looks like. You may notice that it is predominantly red. Perhaps this will help you to think of it as a stop sign.

If it is morning, and I am holding my mug stop sign, I'm am not available for conversation, pleasantries, or directions. Please do not appproach.

Thank You.

Ahead of the Game

This morning on the Today show, Penn/Teller (I never know which one is which; it was the tall one who talks) was promoting Identity, a game show which asks contestants to determine a person's occupation by their appearance.

In the course of his interview, Penn/Teller said something very significant.

"It is very important that we know how to judge people."

Well, I have news for you, Mr. Penn/Teller. I already know how to do that quite well. I am all about judgment (after working hours, of course).

New Plan

I ran 4 miles yesterday, easily.

The trick, I discovered, is to time my run with a college basketball game. I was so busy watching Syracuse kick some ass that I didn't even notice the distance ticking upwards.

I've asked The Lawyer if, on race day, she can ride some sort of cart (?) in front of me, with a television showing a game. Since the college basketball season will be over by then, she'll need to rebroadcast (2-hour highlight reel? national championship game?).

There's also some sort of idea about me running in a shiny orange unitard...but it's in the early stages.

We Can Work It Out

I have two running partners!

Mike signed up for the half-marathon this week. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around this, because all of our previous teamwork activities have revolved around heavy drinking, chicken-wing eating, and sport spectating.

Caitlin has been my virtual partner; her interest and enthusiasm moved me from 'semi-declaring/considering/waffling' to 'registering/training/doing'. And we're scheduled for a training run this coming Monday.

I guess I really, really need to do this now.

In other news, I went to the Syracuse/Rutgers basketball game on Wednesday night. The good guys won. And EB and I amused ourselves the whole way back into the city with an extended game of 'Would You Be My Friend If...' while the boys slept, possibly in defense against having to listen to EB and I play 'Would You Be My Friend If...'for 45 minutes.

During the game, JP and I determined that 1) the name 'Devendorf' is fun to say and 2) Devendorf is a punk.

Yes I Am

I think I've told everyone about my half-marathon, the idea being that if I get the word out to enough people, I will be shamed into following through and actually completing the damn thing.

In the course of the telling, several friends have pledged to attend the race so they can provide motivation point and laugh, which I think will be really helpful fun for them, not so much for me.

When I talk about the half-marathon (frequently, as I prefer to over-examine the things that make me anxious) I find myself saying that I'm 'not really a runner' - which I'm not, because I kinda suck at it.

That statement was thrown back at me this morning by the salesperson who was helping me find the correct running sneakers. "Once you start doing half-marathons", he said "I think that makes you a runner."

Ok. New mindset. My name is ridiculouschick, and I am a runner. Who doesn't suck.

The first step is acceptance.

I Must Be Crazy...

...because this morning, I signed up for a half-marathon. See countdown clock to the right. More details to follow, once I stop freaking out.

Research

Appropos of nothing, I'm tracking the first thing that I say out loud every morning. Leaving aside the whole 'observation changes that which is being observed' argument - I believe that this is a very interesting and useful (and dare I say...scientific?) experiment, from which I've deduced that I am slowly becoming one of those people that talk to the television, and by extension, themselves.

With any luck, I'll become a full-scale mutterer within the next year.

Things That Make Me Cry, Part 1

This story.

Sobering

Genesee Cream Ale stands as a proud icon of exceptional smoothness. Our storied ale has slaked the thirst of many since its birth in 1960. Its remarkably smooth quality is made for the refined and not so refined. Cream Ale boldly challenges the past and celebrates the present while keeping a knowing eye on the future.

Enter the House of Cream and learn what so many have known for so long – Genesee Cream Ale is as refreshing to the body and mind as it is nourishing to the soul.

Yeah...despite what their website says, continuously ordering cans of GCA is not such a good plan, even as you are telling the people that you are dining with that it is "awesome!".

Along the same lines, drinking directly out of a bottle of champagne on a rooftop on NYE because you've "lost your cup" (read: it's about 2 feet away from you) is not particularly sound logic either. Finishing the bottle is pretty dumb too.

Today, my pledge of January sobriety jumps from "what was I thinking?" to "a well-timed break".

How Can This Be?

Yesterday, I finally received my three-month performance appraisal. Yes, I am still employed. And will continue to be employed, at least for the forseeable future.

The review is really just a series of categories, all based upon a complex ratings scale:

1 = Poor

2 = Needs Improvement

3 = Average

4 = Above Average

5 = Excellent

I'm reading through the paperwork...blah, blah, blah...I scored 5's in critical thinking, teamwork, communication skills, adherence to Code of Ethics (what? really?), and program development...when I catch something that gives me pause.

[Pause.]

Category 21 - Appearance (Dress Code)
Rating = 3

Um, are you kidding? I am AVERAGE in appearance? This contradicts everything that I had previously understood about myself. (This is almost as earth-shattering as when I found out that 'Arby's' does not stand for 'America's Roast Beef, Yes Siree!' - a very dark day. Very dark.)

Ok, so AVERAGE???? I thought I was rocking my appearance here.

Take today, for example. I mean, sure, I got up late, so I didn't have time to dry my hair or apply make-up. But I think that only serves to highlight my natural beauty. And the outfit? Slammin'. How else would you describe a pair of brown Oxford Mary-Jane Dr. Martens, brown plaid work pants, topped off by a pink cashmere hoodie?

I'd describe it as Very Professional. And most certainly as Above Average.

PS: *And* during my recent trip to the bathroom, I discovered a piece of blueberry stuck in my teeth from breakfast. C'mon. I'm friggin' gorgeous over here, people!

A Little Worshiping Of Me Might Be...Nice

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Reverend Lady J_______ the Insouciant of Walk upon Water Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Singleton

So, I decided to attend church on Christmas Eve with my parents. (And already, you know that this story can't end well.)

Round 1: As we are leaving our pew at the end of the service, we are literally chased down by the Pastor's Wife. Actually, I am literally chased down, and then hugged by the Pastor's Wife. This is extremely strange because a) I haven't seen her in at least 5 years; b) I've never had a close relationship with her; c) she's not, to my knowledge, a warm and huggy person; and d) the church is not aflame, and I've been inside for about an hour.

After an extremely awkward hug (picture me, extending my hand in greeting, and her, oblivious, going in for full contact), she asks if I will be attending the 5:30 service. I tell her, with feigned regret, that we will be at my brother's house. Which is absolutely true.

She then says that she is hugely disappointed, not because she's trying to save my soul or anything, but because her son, B, is driving up as we speak, and wouldn't it be great if we could reconnect.

[Some history here: B and I attended church, senior high youth fellowship, and high school together. Our previous 'relationship' consisted of months of note writing and flirting during 10th grade geometry and church youth group activities, culminating in one afternoon of hanging out after school and kissing, followed by the mutual ignoring of each other the next day. So very high school. ]

While Pastor's Wife is still talking about B, I steal a glance at my parents. With relief, I note that they look as confused as I feel.

Round 2: In order to exit the church, we must greet the Pastor. He too enfolds me in an inappropriate hug, and asks if I'll be returning for the evening service, I supply my same response, adding feigned regret, he conveys disappointment, blah, blah, blah...and then goes even further. About how he and Wife have long felt that B and I would be perfect for one another, having been through similar "situations", both being of a certain age and still single, and don't I look beautiful (ew), and can he give my contact information to B?

Round 3: When we arrive home, my mother tells me that Pastor's Wife ran into P, my mom's close friend, in town the other day, and told her what a perfect couple B and I would make, and asked for P's help in getting us together. My mother allows that she probably should have warned me about this before we went to church.

Questions:

Is this it? Have I finally reached the stage of my life where "well-meaning" semi-strangers will decide that 34 is too old to be unattached, and therefore attempt to matchmake without any discernible interest on my part?

By similar "situations", did he mean my broken engagment? And if so, how did he know about that? Was B engaged at one point? Furthermore, why would he assume that our "situations" are similar because of that one fact?

Why would Pastor's Wife and Pastor presuppose that I am currently single just because I'm not engaged or married?

Given that Pastor's Wife and Pastor know nothing about my life, personality, circumstances, preferences, or (ahem) situation since I was regularly attending church at age 18 (and they had limited information at that time as well) - what makes B and I "perfect" for each other?

Can't I just be engaged in worshiping Our Lord Jesus Christ without worrying about engagements of another kind?

We Have A Plan

Current Music: 'Hide and Seek' - Imogen Heap (obsessed)

Last night, The Lawyer and I walked over to Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree and bump into 50 million tourists. And while we were there, we witnessed an proposal/engagement taking place on the ice skating rink that even managed to touch our black, shriveled, bitter hearts (I think I got a little teary - don't tell anyone).

But that's not the important part of the story.

As many of you know, The Lawyer and I have a retirement plan which involves Catalina Island, gaudily decorated golf carts, poolboys/poolgirls, and perpetual drunkeness. Our escape will take place 25 years two weeks from now. So last night, as we're standing by the rink, The Lawyer turns to me with a maniacal gleam in her eye and says:

"You know what we should do on Catalina? We should build an ice skating rink just so we can be the Zamboni operators. But we'd have to have a Zamboni for each of us."

Me: "And they'd need to have cup holders for our martini glasses."

The Lawyer: "And really big bumpers so we could have ice fights."

Me: "Because we'd need something to do other than harassing our pool staff and running people off the road..."

The Lawyer: "Um, yeah."

And then the only thing left to do at that point was to High 10 (because really, some situations are simply too momentous for a High 5).

Etiquette

Dear Lady At Work Who Was Walking Down The Wrong Side Of The Hallway And Would Not Get Out Of My Way, Forcing Me To Engage In A Strange Game Of Chicken, Which I Think I Lost:

When I look directly at you and say "Excuse me", what I'm really saying is "Go fuck yourself."

Kisses!
r

Whaaaa?

I managed to drag myself out of my self-imposed social isolation on Saturday night. But you already knew that, didn't you? Because I did a little drunk blogging when I got home. And unless you assumed that I achieved that state of inebriation on my own (which wouldn't really be that much of a leap) you figured out that I left my apartment.

Also, I discussed attending a holiday party in my previous post.

Anyway.

Megan holds a theory that Ex Encounters can proceed in the following manner:

1) Upon contact, all of your previous romantic feelings come rushing back, usually causing "you + a bottle of something, in the person's face", yelling and attempting to deconstruct the end of the relationship. Emphasis on the yelling.

OR

2) Uncomfortable, yet insignificant. Brief conversation. Gauging for deeper feelings, finding none. Anti-climactic.

Luckily, my interaction with A on Saturday night fell into the second category. It was, in fact, so non-eventful that I'm left with a vague sense of puzzlement as to why I was so upset earlier this year. This has caused me to examine all the unecessary drama in my life as of late. I'd like to be able to leave that behind. Obviously, my next step is to track down the ARH and have a non-event with him so I can enter the new year unencumbered. Somehow, though, I don't think that this is the way it works. My closure tends to sneak up on me, despite my best efforts to control it.

PS: (and totally unrelated) I brought in cookies today for my Secret Holiday Gift Person and left them in her mailbox. She's out sick. Would it be bad to 'ungift' and eat the cookies? I can see the mailbox from my desk, and the cookies are there. Taunting me.

PS: (and somewhat related) The other fun part of Saturday night was a conversation with JP's girlfriend in which she referenced her 33rd birthday as memorable because it was the same year that Jesus died. Yes, I'm serious. No, I don't have any idea what she was talking about.