We didn't come from money

I've been just mildly obsessed with this song lately. Okay, the last month or so. At first, I was just enchanted by the totally delicious harmonies and really thought the lyrics were fairly meh, but the more I listen to it, the more I actually began to identify with it.

I also may have sang it at a little birthday karaoke fun last night and rocked it. Make of that what you will.

The other day, I found myself in a conversation with women I didn't know all that well and they were discussing how much they pay for their fabulous apartments and how worth it it all is and I just sat there with nothing to say, nothing to contribute, because I couldn't identify with these women in any way. I don't begrudge them their fabulous lives and I'm not envious of their fabulous lives; I just simply and truly could not relate.

I pay a fraction of what they do for my tiny little hovel and I have to work to make ends meet even then. But I'm oddly okay with that. I'm doing much better than anyone could probably have anticipated considering where I come from and I'm proud of how much I've done for myself.

Sure, would it have been nice to come from money? To have parents who paid for everything I wanted in life? I guess. That does sound lovely. But on the other hand, I have worked really hard and done some really cool things on my own. And that's pretty damn cool.

In a couple weeks, Eminem and I are moving in together, which is majorly exciting and nervous making and YAYchange! We found an insanely cute house to rent which is really a steal for the space and charm and HUGE yard we're getting. We will be paying a fraction of what many people pay for their wonderful houses and apartments in fabulous places, but that's just fine with us.

We have something better, something within our budget but still really cute and comfortable and (most important) with lots of privacy, because after years and years of apartment living, we cannot wait for the quiet that comes from not sharing ceilings and floors and walls with other people. We have a house! Once it's ours, I'll take some empty house photos for you all so you can see just how damn cute and also before I decorate the shit out of it. I already have tons of crafty plans for it and it's all nested in my head.

I guess my main point of all this is that people just live their lives how they can and so what? There's such a war waging in our culture over money. And rightfully so in lots of ways. But also, those who don't live in very certain ways, or who weren't born into money, are constantly vilified. And why? So those who have more can feel better about it? It's all luck.

Nobody chooses to be born into poverty and those who are born into wealth landed there by pure luck. I'm okay that I didn't come from money. Life wasn't as easy, isn't as easy, but it's mine. I've done it my way and made do and struggled and guess what? I'm okay!

And since I'm doing okay, I can work to speak for those who don't have anything. I can help where I can. I have a lot less than lots of people, but still a lot more than others. I think there's a certain advantage to that, to knowing what it's like to live on very little and therefore have a little understanding for those who still struggle.

This post wasn't meant to be so preachy; I just wanted to share that my life is good and even though we don't have all that much, we're still happy. Imagine that.

Before I leave you, I have to share that I posted two (TWO!) whole sets of new photos over at Double A Photography last week: Wilting Blooms and Little Buds. Here's a sample (Just click on the photos to see the full collections):

Health and happiness and some shit like that

Lots has been happening the last month and year and, well, my whole life really and it's really had me considering the importance/non-importance of health and happiness and how those things really shape our (my) daily lives.

This is going to be one of those rambly long posts, the kind of writing that ambles about in the woods not really searching for a destination, but is really only looking at the trees and how tall they are and my gosh bark is crazy when you think about it and why are pine needles so different than leaves and squirrels are incredibly cute assholes.

Ahem.

Just like that.

As a follow up from my last post, I finally got in to see my primary care doctor at Kaiser and I can see why he's so hard to get an appointment with; the guy is a great doctor, just what you want in a doctor: firm but kind, asks lots of questions and actually listens to your answers and works to figure out how to make your feel better and/or ease your fears. I don't know the last time I had such a good experience with a doctor.

And he also addressed Dr. Bitchface and how she called me fat. He actually pulled out a chart and showed me where I fall on the scale of overall health and weight and showed me where most people are (Scary Land) and where I am (Not too bad at all). He encouraged me to exercise more, but said I'm actually in good shape and he's not worried about me.



Huge sigh of relief.

It's amazing how one person's, one expert's, opinion or reassurances can change your whole self perception. it's amazing how hearing you're doing a good job or you're not fucking up your life completely can make you feel better, can make getting through the rough shit easier.

Anyway, he ran a full blood panel and I go back in a couple weeks for imaging to see if I have any cysts or growths and then I follow up with him. Here's hoping.

It seems obvious that health and happiness go hand in hand, but I don't think most of us live that way. One is usually sacrificed for the other and it's rare that most people have even one. I always preach about balance and all that, but it doesn't always happen. I know that yoga or dance, etc., make me both physically and mentally happy, but when I can't afford classes, it's easier to just skip and say, "soon."

So what's more important? I'm not saying we just give up and I certainly try to find ways to exercise or whatever, but it's hard when you scrape by to do just what you live and the best things to be healthy and well.

And most of us don't live our dream lives, don't have the dream jobs and the dream houses and all those other accoutrements we pictured for ourselves. There's something to be said for being responsible and holding down that shitty job and smiling through the stress and paying rent on that crappy apartment, because that's adulthood and that's responsibility and that's just life.

I have nothing but respect for those who do what they have to. My dad always did and I'd like to think I do too.

Or maybe those things are easier if one just feels a little fulfilled by their work, feels accomplishment, feels appreciated and valued in what they do regardless if what they do is what they want or not. Just knowing you're important and valauable is enough to feel a little satisfaction.

But is that really happiness? Where does happiness come in? In this world of pleasures and art and beauty are we not the least bit deserving of some happiness? How do we make time for joy? Is that only a privilege of the rich? How else does one pursue their dreams if they don't have the resources to fund them?



Or maybe that's only the life of Europeans. Maybe I have to live in Italy or Montmartre to have la belle vie.

I'd love nothing more than to abandon the 8 to 5, live that bohemian life, to spend my days making art, taking photos and painting and writing, traveling, eating and loving. But who can afford to do that?

They say money can't buy happiness, but it sure affords the time to pursue it. But maybe if I could afford all the time, I wouldn't appreciate what little there is.

Now, don't misunderstand. I've had my fair share of bold moves in the search for joy and I've had and do have joy, happiness, love. Hell, I quit my job and moved to another state without a job and without knowing more than 3 people there. And there are days when I get homesick and I question my decisions. Don't we all? But every move I've made, I've made for me and so that's gotta be good.




And this has been a big year too. Over a year ago, I wandered into a bar where I didn't know a soul, planted myself on a barstool, made new friends who would then introduce me to Eminem. I can't believe it's been a year. He and I are coming up on our anniversary in a couple weeks, counting of course from the night I took him home and not from our first date. Guess which came first?

Sometimes I think my whole purpose in life is to debunk ideas of appropriate female sexual behavior.

Anyway, we're coming up on a year and we're talking about getting a place together in the fall (damned budgets and leases) and I can say with absolute conviction that he makes me happy. Maybe that makes me a bad feminist or a bad therapy patient or something. Yes, no one else can *make* us happy, sure; we have to make ourselves happy. Blah blah blah. I can probably go back and link up all the posts where I've written just that.

But he does. He does. So there. Suck it, psychology.

There are a million little things that he does that make me happy. His existence in the world makes me happy. It makes me happy that he loves me and it makes me happy to love him. He appreciates me and who I am and that makes me happy too.



Is this scary as shit? Fuck yes. Do I feel totally safe with him and therefore even more scared than one would think? Am I worried that it will all come crashing down and this huge bundle of happiness we have will all blow away? Absofuckinglutely. But the scariest things always feel the best, don't they? Hell yes they do. That's what's so awesome about it.

Because I'm happy and so it's worth it. Happiness. Funny thing, that.

And despite my doctor's lack of worry about my weight, the fact remains that I'm carrying more weight than I ever have and I'm pretty sure it's because I'm happy and in love. Literally fat and happy, if you will.

I can accept being curvier if I get love. Maybe I could also have a life full of art too? Is that asking too much?

"moving" on

So much has happened since we last talked, Internet! Let's see. What had happened last? I think it was that my crazy roommate turned off my Internet access and you just don't fuck with a girl's Internet.

After that, things happened really, really fast. After a couple of days of simmering and stewing and salting and then adding a dash of paprika, talking with my landlady, I decided to put in my 30 days notice, repercussions be damned. It was such a toxic situation and it was really eating me alive emotionally and psychologically. So on February 1st, I gave my notice to the apartment management and gave bitch roomie a copy (in an envelope left where she would she would find it, locked myself in my room with a chair against the door, and started to feel the tiniest bit happy.

It was like a tiny sliver of light let itself in. Each day has been exponentially better and better since.

I buckled down, started dating Pad Mapper, and found an apartment pretty damn fast. I had to sell my soul to afford it, not the place itself, which I can technically afford and will be saving tons of gas money because it's uber close to my work now, but just the costs of paying rent in two places, deposit, truck rental, etc.

All my money is gone, yo. But money is just money. Whomever said money can't buy happiness clearly never lived with my roommate. A little money can get you out of all kinds of shitsuck situations.

And I had a small hiccup, as always happens with these things, when the management at the new place ran my background check, the found two bad marks on my credit report (which of course shouldn't be there) and wanted to charge me double the deposit. I was like, UM WHAT NOW? Because my only debt should be my student loans and they can't count that against you unless you've defaulted.

So I ran credit reports from all three reporting services, something I'd just done two years before, aka when I moved from California to Oregon, and what do you know? There were two medical bills from a million years ago, from my hometown, and which I was completely unaware of and didn't show up on my report the last time. And did I mention they sent the bills to my mom's house? My crazy, hoarder mom? So those bills are probably still unopened under piles of piles of whatever the hell it is she piles. Sigh. They were also fairly small originally and I could have paid them easily at the time but right now, in the midst of my moving drama and because they've grown with interest, not so easy.

This is why life is fucked. Even when one tries to manage one's income and life in a semi-normal manner, shit like this pops up and tries to screw it all. You know? When I order a screw driver, this is not what I have in mind.

Never to the less, my new manager was a sweetheart and said if I cleared those off my report though, they could decrease my deposit. So I sold my backup soul and have to get it all paid off this week.

So remember above when I said I'm broke, I really mean it. I'm BROKE! Guess who needs to get her taxes done this week and is hoping for a decent return? This girl!

Anyway, I got into the apartment a week ago and moved everything I could all by my lonesome, including all my books (which are the bulk of my possessions, lemmetellya) and I think I lost 20 pounds last weekend, I swear. Then I pulled out my sleeping bag, my bedding, four pillows, and the pad from an Ikea chair, and made a nest for a bed. I brought Hobbes over and we've been staying here since.

Then I got a truck Saturday (and drove a big truck for the first time ever and I drove it like I boss!) and my very best friend, who has moved me like 3 times in the last 2 years, came over to help, along with my favorite coworker Mike and his girlfriend. And this is the best part and why I love good people. Mike just moved out from Boston not long ago and his grilfriend is in town visiting and she'd just gotten in Friday night at like midnght. So what did they do the next morning? They came over and helped me move. This is also the first time I'd met her. Truly awesome people.

On a side note, that new guy I've been dating, the one I met on that one random night? Yeah he said he was gonna help, which he offered to do and I didn't even ask, bee tee dubs, and then just completely flaked out. I got a text from him at like 5 pm or something saying sorry he flaked. Um, yeah. A little late now, buddy. Too bad too. I liked him, but darn it if I also like a little thing like courtesy and respect. Imagine that.

And look at me demanding to be treated well! See, a girl can get out of a toxic, destructive relationship and still reclaim a modicum of respect for herself. Proud of me? You should be.

Oh and I almost skipped a good part! The ex is out of town I guess so I went out to the old bar Friday night and met up with my (our, his) old friends and had a blast. I missed them all a ton more than I realized I guess. Anyway, it was great to see them and they were super sweet.

Back to the story (sorry this post is so rambly), I got all my furniture in yesterday and then unpacked until I passed out. I was really nice to sleep in my bed again, but in a place all my own where I feel safe emotionally. And it was completely delicious waking up this morning. I feel free. Ahhhhh!

I still have to go back and clean, but eh, whatevs. Worth it.

Did I mention my new place has a pool? I'm gonna be so popular this summer.

Ho Ho Ho

Back at work today. Are there 4 words more depressing? I don't think so. If there are, I defy you to find them.

Nonetheless, I felt ready to be back at work today. It had been a long and relaxing weekend and I was ready to go back to the norm. Well, kind of ready. I had gotten so used to life without an alarm clock that when my alarm went off this morning, I literally had no idea what was going on. I had one of those disoriented moments like you have in a hotel. For a good 2 minutes, I was running through questions. Who am I? Where am I? What time is it? Why do I have to be up at this time? Oh wait, if I snooze, what time do I actually have to be up? All those very important existential questions. Ah. Life is complicated.

And today was somewhat of a blur anyway. Catching up on a thousand emails and phone calls and meetings and to-dos. This week should be pretty crazy too, on into the holiday season. Ugg. I've said this before and I truly apologize to those who love Christmas, but I just hate the holidays. I envy you people. Maybe it's a religious holiday for you with tons of significance. Or maybe you get to spend time with your loving family. Or maybe you enjoy buying gifts for everyone in your life. Well, for me, I don't really get any of that. I'll explain.

Warning: Debbie Downer! Those who want to maintain a childlike innocence please redirect your browser here.

Okay, can I continue? Only cynical grownups in the room? Awesome.

I am not religious. I was raised in a Christian religion, but (and without delineating my entire theory on ideologies) I've made my own way. And I must also assert that Yule was a pagan holiday hijacked by the Christians to convert them. Even if you're Christian, you have to know that Jesus couldn't have been born in December. There. So, I do love the winter season. I love snow and snowmen and snowflakes and the cold sparkliness of December (or what should be December. I wouldn't know in Southern fucking California). But I don't go to a church. I don't put up nativities. That's not me.

And my family circle is small. I'm close with my dad but we've agreed not to spend Christmas together. Have I mentioned I'm estranged from my mother? I am. And I won't make my dad pick between us, so he spends a good chunk of time supporting me and my mom gets him for the holidays. And I'm okay with that. My childhood Christmases were never memorable in a good way anyhow. It's always been stressful for me, as long as I can remember. So a family-free Christmas is A-okay.

In fact, I'll probably just go see a movie with Morgan this year. Just how I like it. Last year, I treated myself to a Harry Potter marathon. It was fantastic. In fact, the best Christmas I ever had was in London. I had been backpacking with my cousin and my bestest friend in the world Lynnette through the UK and we ended up in London for Christmas day. The three of us exchanged cheesy souvenirs and Lynnette and I (Linds was sicky, poor thing) tromped around the city in the freezing cold. And the tube was shut down so we literally walked all over London. It was a blast! And we saw things we never would have seen on a bustly day taking the tourist routes. And we discovered the best Turkish food you will ever have in your whole damn life. Oh my god it was AH MAY ZING! Best Christmas ever.

So that brings me to...what...oh yeah. Shopping. First off, have I mentioned I used to work retail? For years I worked retail. And let me tell you, Christmas time in the malls is like guerrilla warfare. Perfectly sane people lose their minds. All of a sudden, all that stands between them and their perfect Christmas is a book or a bra or a sweater. And they just don't understand that you don't have a printing press in the back of the store. Or a sewing machine. Or a magic fucking wand. Or maybe the nice lady in front of them took the last one of whatever it is...they will turn into goddamn Galahad and fight to the death for the damn item. Or maybe they're just cranky from all the shopping, all the spending. That credit card starts to get heavy after a while so no matter how fast the lines go, how many registers are open, how nice you are, you (innocent, underpaid retail worker) are the devil incarnate and must be put in your place. You wouldn't believe the hideously mean things I've heard people say to employees during this festive holiday season. Spirit of the season my ass.

So you can see why I'm a little wound up about Christmas shopping. If I don't absolutely have to, I do not enter the stores, malls, or the like from Black Friday until New Years. I shop online, I make shit, whatever I have to do to survive by not going near the mania that is shopping around the holidays.

Plus I'm buhroke. Broke. Po. So fucking poor. And I want to be generous. I do. But oh my god do the charities come out of the closet (he he) in December! I am a good person. I build houses in New Orleans. I give to HRC and Courage Campaign. I've worked at emergency shelters and tutored kids. But that kind of giving should be spread out, all year. When it all piles on at once, it really pushes my finances out the window. And at my work (love you coworkers!) we have a million events in which we're expected to bring toys and canned goods, etc. And it's a very good thing. But I really can't afford it all. This year, I have to choose which things I can go to depending on what I can afford to give. I even made artsy Christmas gifts this year (mentioned that already) so it's not as if I'm spending on me and can afford it. Nope, I'm on a budget all the way around.

Side story: I used to work in a book store and we used to ask people to donate cheap books (like maybe $3 or $4 books) to charity. If someone really seemed like they couldn't afford it, or afford it right then, I got that. But people would spend 500 plus dollars and throw it all on an AMEX and they can't afford three more dollars for a needy kid? That I don't get. Same with me. I give where I can. And I when I can give more, I will. But I just can't right now.

Okay Debbie Downer is finished. But you can see why this season is so stressful right, Internet? I'd really like to keep an open mind, though. If one of those categories changed its mind and jumped in my lap, I'd really try to learn to love the Christmas season, I really would. Ho ho ho and all that. I can't even seem to get the ho part down. Looks like I have a long way to go.

she works hard for the money

*WHEW* My BIG EVENT is oh vee ee are! (that spells over, in case you were having trouble deciphering) Yes, the weekend-long event is over and it went very well for the most part. Friday evening was my baby, a big chi chi event that we put on every year and I get to be in charge of it. Now, many people help with many details and I want to go on record saying that I couldn't do any of it without the help of so many people. A lot of these people go unrecognized, but I recognize them. They make my job possible.

And this evening? This is honestly my most stressful but absolutely favorite night of the year. And without giving away what it is because I'm still trepidatious to talk about my job in detail, I'll just say a few things. I love this because it makes people happy. We recognize 11 amazing people and I love putting together all of the crazy details, the seating chart, slideshows, decorations, catering, entertainment, logistics, presentations, etc, etc.

You know why? Because I am totally and completely selfish. When I see the these people and their families with those smiles, I know they feel appreciated and that makes it all worth it. They are a part of a much bigger entity than me, but I get to be the person who puts it all together, who gets to know them so personally as I make the preparations, and makes their evening special. It makes all the planning and details completely worth it. And that makes me feel great. And, if I may brag for a moment here, I've received nothing but compliments. And that of course also makes me feel great. But not just because it's good to hear something you've put together is "incandescent," (which someone actually said!), but also because I know that means they had a good time, enjoyed themselves and the environment, and that means my job is well done.

Oh, did I mention the hot bartender? Hot. Bartender. I definitely wedged some impromptu flirting into the evening where I could. And he kept me in supply of soda, one glass of wine, then water. Did I mention that he was hot? Hot. Really hot. I'm not gonna lie, after the last month, it made me feel like Giselle to be checked out by Hot Bartender. Oh baby.

Saturday was a blur of events and running around and HEAT (ohmigod, Southern California! What the hail is up with the heat? IT IS OCTOBER! Get colder already!Damn.) and people and talking and even laughter. There were only a few minor glitches, nothing I'd even call snafus even. It all went as smoothly as it could and as that's unusual for a big weekend like this, I'd say I'm very pleased. Saturday morning, though, I woke up at 5 am (I set my alarm for 6) because I couldn't breathe out of either nostril and head felt like it was going to implode. I guess that cold I had been fighting off decided to kick in right then. So I drug my sorry ass out of bed early, started an epsom salts bath (for my achy feet from wearing heels on Friday. See: chi chi event above) and inhaled the steam until I could breathe. So, I got a whole hour's less sleep than I wanted to start my big day, but I didn't really feel it until Saturday night.

Saturday night. What a night. We had a party planned. All the details set. Deejay, food, twinkle lights, banners, candles, bar, Hot Bartender (woot! more on this in a sec), and then nothing. A bunch of people had made reservations, but the crowd was meager. Meager. Who knows what happened, but it became SUCH a long night and I was SO tired. And there were a few fun moments. I got to see my friend Lena for a bit that I hadn't seen in a couple years. A friend's husband told a gaggle of young people that I was the hottest girl he'd ever seen (sorry, K! that was awkward for both of us!), and one lonely drunk bastard got plastered, danced alone like a male Elaine all night while people he didn't know videotaped him (poor bastard is probably ALL over YouTube right now), fell and ripped up his hand (which I patched up with my personal first aid kit. sometimes I hate that I'm a fireman's daughter). Poor guy. I felt bad for him. But, security made sure he wasn't driving and got him a cab to his hotel.

Oh, and Hot Bartender. THAT was a pleasant surprise. And I still flirted, but without my cute outfit (and I'm sure after working in the heat ALL day, I looked super attractive), I suddenly got shy and nervous. What was my deal? Who knows. But I totally wussed out and didn't make any kind of moves. He seemed interested though. The party was so slow, he stood with me and talked between making drinks. And did I mention that he's hot? Hot. And I know, bartender. Cliche. But he seemed nice. And we weren't at a seedy bar, he was with the catering company. Am I just hard up? Rebounding? I don't think so. I think I was attracted to Hot Bartender and I couldn't man up enough to make a move because it was scary.

Oh well. C'est la vie. What's a girl to do?

Anyway, I told myself that I wasn't going to do a damn thing today and so far I've been pretty damn successful. I've gotten out of bed for shower and food and I even made myself refrain from chores or cleaning of any kind (except cleaning myself). I just laid in bed all day watching Hulu and Netflix and generally being kind to myself. After this month and then this weekend, I needed to day to detox and do nada. And I haven't felt sick today, just exhausted, so that's a good sign. Back to work tomorrow so I'm glad I didn't make the most of today. Doing nothing is much more fun sometimes.