Archive for Random Tuesday Thoughts
Random Tuesday Thoughts
Posted by: | CommentsIt’s Tuesday, which means I can give you whatever’s on the top of my head. It’s the Unmom’s fault. Go tell her so.
One. Writing Class.
I have procrastinated my homework for tomorrow night’s personal essay workshop, something I said I wouldn’t do. I need to write 500 words on my first experience in a “foreign” place, giving close attention to details that can set tone and mood. My problem is that unless the experience is really recent, I forget those details, and if this is supposed to be nonfiction, I can’t make them up.
Also, we’ll be workshopping my second submission, which is highly personal narrative about coming to both forgive and apologize to the boy I blame for so much of my lifelong pain and suffering. I’m nervous about that, because it was pretty raw when I submitted it. I’m also scared that the women in my group will judge the content, and therefore, me, vs the writing and storytelling.
Two. Public speaking.
Next week, I get to travel to Tampa for my professional organization’s annual conference. There, on Sat. morning at 8 am Eastern time (6 am Denver time) I get to make my first professional presentation to my peers. I’m working with another colleague who sits on the organization’s steering committee with me, and it’s a no-biggie talk, just an overview of our LinkedIn group. And yet, I’m really excited and nervous. Unlike most people, I actually like public speaking. I just haven’t done it in a long time.
Three. Panic.
I have too much to do. I have too much to do. I have too much to do. So I sit, and I breathe, and I focus on softening that dark spot between my eyes, and I breathe some more. And I imagine that the panic is a flurry of birds, clutched in my hands, and I visualize myself letting go of them, watching them fly away. And then I relax.
Four. Disorganized.
I have become very disorganized over the past four months or so, and that’s part of my panic. I need to get a handle on my work projects, and set timelines, and schedule in time to think and strategize, and time to do the actual work. I missed so much office time last week. I need to remember that no one is going to die if these things don’t happen on the timelines I have imposed on them.
Five. Money.
Oh, there are money woes in our household. The tax bill is my main culprit, and I think I will have to quit my gym to free up money to pay off what I owe. Which makes me feel sad. For the past two months, money just seems tighter. Last night I figured out why: Until 2 months ago, I was reimbursed for my medical expenses, which are about $250 a month, from my flex account. Well, it’s drained, and I can’t re-up it until July 1. So I have three more months of those additional expenses–therapy and two prescriptions–to pay out of pocket. Ouch.
Six. Wii Active.
I bought a Wii Active game at Christmas, and I broke it out for the first time on Sunday to do the 30-day Challenge. I feel a bit frustrated by the pace of my “trainer” who seems to arbitrarily hold a pose–say the flex of a bicep curl–for different amounts of time. She has the worst sense of rhythm I’ve ever encountered. I’ve done two workouts so far, and they’ve given me a little sweat. I don’t feel sore at all, but that’s OK. Jury’s still out on this game. I do think, however, it’s better than the Wii Fit game that came with our Fit board.
The best Wii game we’ve bought so far is Just Dance! That’s my cardio workout. So fun! The choreography is sometimes a little tricky to do on carpet, especially the hip-hop leg moves, and I haven’t yet figured out how to point the remote perfectly to get it to register my movements, but the music and moves are really fun. Lauren and I love to play it together. Our favorite routine, the booty-slapping “Ring My Bell!” which was my favorite song when I was her age.
Seven. Love.
I love my husband. I love him. I do.
Random Tuesday Thoughts.
Posted by: | CommentsThe Unmom started it, and I like to play along. It’s Tuesday, so it must be a day for random thoughts. My fever helps with this randomness. A lot.
One. Virus.
I have diligently washed my hands and stayed away from Steve and taken extra Vitamin D through Sunday when he seemed to be over this crap. On Sunday, I kissed him on the mouth. And yesterday, I started getting sick. I can’t remember the last time I had a cold, and this one is a doozy. Fever, achy,headache, ticklish cough, dripping nose and eyes and tired, oh so tired. I find the process of becoming sick to be very interesting. It’s like watching the weather rolling in over the mountains: it happens gradually until I’m completely overcome. I’m stuck in the middle of the storm for a day or two, and then the clouds begin to lighten and patches of blue break through, and then a few scattered clouds (cough, for example) hang out for a half-day, and then it’s gone.
I’m going to continue to take 50,000IU of Vitamin D and double my probiotics until I kick this to see if I can get over it faster than Steve did, not as means to compete with him, but rather so I feel better sooner than two weeks.
I told my boss that I was coming home early to wait for UPS to deliver our new grill, and also to use my neti pot. She suggested using hot and spicy BBQ sauce, which I took to mean IN my neti pot, which seemed like an odd suggestion and I told her so, and then realized that my fever is keeping my synapses working slower than usual, which made me grateful that my boss has a great sense of humor.
Two. Job market.
In the past four days, I have received emails from six people–most former Denver journalists–who are looking for freelance work. These are people who have 25 years of experience on daily papers, putting together or contributing to major newspapers in one way or the other. I recently looked at a description for a job in my field at a large foundation. The job description was three pages long, and it was obvious that the job was an amalgamation of at least two jobs, if not more. The starting salary was in the mid-40s–and they wanted someone with a master’s degree and 5-7 years of experience.
At the AWP conference I attended last week (Association for Writers & Writing Programs), I sat in on two panel discussions that talked about making a living as a writer in this economy. Both panels suggested that graduates of masters of fine arts in creative writing programs (MFAs) should look at PR, marketing communications and fundraising because, “every organization needs good writers.”
Now I agree that every organization needs good writers. However, there is an assumption there that an MFA prepares you to do PR or marketing communications or fundraising. But it doesn’t. Journalism school, and PR school and fundraising classes and experience as an unpaid (or poorly paid intern) in those jobs prepares you do to PR. While I know a poet could write lovely, descriptive copy, and a fiction writer could probably write one hell of a sales pitch, I would not hire an MFA without a journalism/PR/marketing/publishing background, no matter how beautifully s/he wrote. I need people who can interview, can write to length, can write in AP style and can write on deadline, people who understand how the media works, what makes a good story for a donor. A fundraising team needs someone who has the finite skills of writing a grant proposal, or stewarding a donor with a capacity to give into making a large gift. Those panels left me frustrated.
Three. Wind.
We’re having 30 to 50 mph gusts of wind today. On the campus where I work, which is on the edge of the prairie, it gets particularly windy. I’ve lost three umbrellas in as many years to the wind. Today, walking from my car to my office building, I could almost lean my full body weight into the wind and have it hold me there.
Four. Outskirts.
For all of my life, I’ve felt I’m on the outskirts of social groups. I can put on a front that makes me seem like I belong, but I feel like a fraud. I’ve always wanted to be in the middle of the “in” group, whatever group that is. I’ve been close, but something inside me does not allow me to feel like I fully belong.
I’ve been reading a book that Judi suggested called “The New Rules of Marriage.” In it Terry Real prescribes a “feedback wheel,” first developed by Pia Mellody, that goes like this:
- Here’s what I observed (no judgments or feelings, just what a video camera could record)
- Here’s what I made up about what I observed
- Here’s how I made myself feel about what I observed
- Here’s what I want to happen now
- Release the outcome
On Thursday at the AWP, I didn’t have lunch plans, and when I asked some acquaintances what their plans were they told me but did not invite me along. My reaction: Boy, did that hurt my feelings. Boy did that make me feel like an outsider. I wound up at Bubba Gump Shrimp Company in a booth for six, alone, crying in to my gumbo. Well, not literally crying but almost. On my way back from lunch, it hit me that I might try using the feedback wheel on myself to see what happened. And what happened was I felt better, and I made a plan for what I wanted to happen the next time such a situation came up.
And then, on Friday night, it happened again. A group of people were going to dinner. I asked them where. They told me, but didn’t invite me. BUT instead of moping, I asked if I could join them. And guess what–they said yes! Go figure. I had a lovely time, made two new friends and feel grateful they included me.
Random Tuesday Thoughts #10
Posted by: | CommentsHey ya’ll, it’s Tuesday which means it’s all random, all day. Want to play? Click over to the UnMom and sign up.
One. Percy Jackson.
Lauren spent half of the movie sitting in my lap, fingers in her ears because she was scared by the intensity of certain scenes. She hardly ever lets me cuddle her anymore. Even though my legs went numb, even though I couldn’t see much around her, those minutes holding her, my nose in her hair, were the best moments of my week. We get so busy and so distracted and so disconnected in our lives. I never forget that I love her, but that day, as Percy Jackson battled mythical creatures on the screen, I felt my love for her in every atom of my being.
Two. Toilet Paper.
Our ferret Teddy is a troublemaker. He steals my shoes and hides them all around the house–just tonight I found my black pump behind the dryer. He nips my ankles, “enticing” me to play. He digs in the cat dishes, scattering food across the kitchen floor. He rolls in his litterbox. He’s adorable. (Facetious? Yes and no.) The other night, I walked into the most darling of his tricks: He had stolen a 12-pack of toilet paper double rolls from the linen closet and tried to hide it under the bed. Keep in mind that this guy weighs 3 pounds and 12 rolls of toilet paper weighs at least that much. Can you imagine dragging something that weighs as much as you do and is 10 times your physical size across a room? And then? Imagine you shred it. SHRED it. Three rolls, down to the cardboard tube. And then, for good measure, drag the shredded bits all over the room. That’s my lovely Teddy Bear. Always a character.
Three. LOST.
I love this show, and this season is the best yet. However, it seems like this year there are more commercials than show. I know that the ad rates must be juicy-good for the network, but come on! More show, fewer things to skip on the DVR, please ABC.
Four. You lost me at Kate Gosselin.
Steve will jump for joy when he reads this: I will not be watching the next season of Dancing with the Stars. The producers have lost their minds–this cast is ridiculous. The Bachelor? Kate? Some ESPN babe who made a sex tape? How are these people stars? I’ve watched every season with love for the art of ballroom dance. But my love only extends so far. I wonder what else I can find to do with my Monday nights?
Five. Ring.
I have not been able to wear my wedding ring, and it’s bumming me and Steve out. I love my ring. It’s gorgeous and different and expensive. However, for the past two months it has given me a blistering rash that acts like an allergic reaction. I wear it until the pain is unbearable, then I take it off and let my skin heal. The owie peels away, leaving a bright red band just on the top of my finger. It seems bizzarre that I might be allergic to sapphires, but that’s the only explanation I can think of. If I were somehow allergic to gold, I should have a rash around the circumference. I have to visit the dermatologist this month for the first of my twice-annual skin checks, and hopefully he’ll have an answer.
Random Tuesday Thoughts
Posted by: | CommentsIt’s Tuesday, and here’s what I have been thinking about. Brain dumps are fun! So head over to The UnMom’s blog and read her weekly ramblings, and check out the other bloggers, like me, who follow in her footsteps.
One. Olympics.
I waited up last night to watch the Chinese pairs skaters but fell asleep about 3.2 seconds before the first couple started and woke up about 2.3 seconds after the second couple finished. Frustrating. Apparently, they came in 1st and 2nd. Hopefully, YouTube will have the performances up tonight. I was really looking forward to watching them. I wish I were an ice skater.
Two. Anxiety.
Does anyone here have a tip or two for dealing with anxiety? Usually, mine is tempered by depression but since I’m not feeling very depressed, all I get is this crazy gnawing in my stomach and the feeling that the world is about to crash in on me. It’s not so bad that I can’t function, but it’s bad enough to keep me from sleeping soundly. Any advice or information is welcome in the comments or by email to lynn (at) humanbeingblog [dot] com.
Three. Valentine’s Day.
Steve and I went to see the movie on Sunday, and I thought it was cute. Steve on the other hand saw Ashton Kutcher in the first scene and apparently hated the whole thing. I told him watching a true chick flick like Valentine’s Day–and in the theater no less — was a valiant act that I would remember for the rest of my life. I also repaid the favor with a blow job. Seemed fair. After all, it was a national holiday (and that’s the only time married men get that kind of thing from their wives, right girls?)
But can we please talk about the rudeness? (Not of the blow job, but of the people in the theater). We had never been to this theater before, which is located behind the Aurora Mall. I admit that I’m a snob, but these people were even rude to the rednecks sitting behind us. One couple brought a baby and didn’t leave when the baby started screaming. A couple to Steve’s left kept up running commentary throughout the movie. And the chick sitting next to me got a phone call AND ANSWERED IT at the movie’s climax. I was not very nice, and she eventually took her call out of the theater.
The tickets at this theater were only $6.50–full price. I guess you get what you pay for in terms of fellow patrons. We’d rather pay an extra $4 each for a touch of class from the rest of the audience.
Four. Oil Change.
Would someone please come pick up my car, take it to Grease Monkey for an oil change, then to the car wash? I’m about 300 miles beyond oil change time, and the inside of my car hasn’t been cleaned since fall. Help.
Five. Tattoo.
I keep dreaming that I’m in the tattoo artist’s chair getting a big spray of cherry blossoms across my shoulders and upper back. I don’t know if this means I want said tattoo (I kind of do) or if I am craving spring, or a trip to Washington DC or maybe to Japan. In my dream, the tattoo is beautiful and makes me feel safe. So maybe I’ll go get it.
Six. Weapon.
Steve wants us to buy handguns. I used to be very anti-gun. And then I shot one. Because of the upcoming Zombie Apocalypse (aka 12/21/12), we both think that it would be smart to at least be able to protect ourselves on the chance that all hell breaks loose.
On Sunday — because it is fun and somehow also romantic — we went to the Firing Line shooting range only to find that there was a 2-hour wait for a slot. We started browsing the gun store attached to the range, and soon I found myself comparing the weight and triggers and grips of various .357 revolvers like I knew what the hell I was doing. Funny that just two years ago I threw up when I fired a gun for the first time. Now, I’m kind of excited by the idea of owning one and coming to the range to practice.
The old dude behind the counter was a cautionary tale about how nutty gun people can be. You see, because he’s afraid of home invasion, he always wears an ankle holster with a .22 pistol and a belt holster with a .45 automatic pistol. In his living room. And in his car. He told us he’s both been shot and has shot another person. He pretty much freaked me out with his stories. I do not want to become that dude, who reminded me of my grandfather in his last year of life — delusional and paranoid. I have no intention of getting a conceal/carry permit. Or of ever shooting another person.
But I like shooting paper targets. That’s fun. And it will be a hell of a lot cheaper if we own our own weapons to practice with.
Seven. Groupon.
A few weeks ago I signed up for Groupon, which is a coupon service to promote local businesses. A business offers a deal–say 50% off flowers. You buy the coupon for $25 and get $50 worth of flowers. Sweet. I’ve now bought 3 of these: one for half-off Bovine Metropolis Theater, which we haven’t yet used. Another for half-off flowers,which I used to send my sister a bouquet.
Today, I bought a groupon for $100 of photo scanning services for $40. This deal is the answer to a Very Personal Ad I put out a few weeks ago. You see, our wedding photographer gave us the negatives and 3.5×5 prints and low-res scans of almost 400 photos. However, my intention is to make a Blurb.com book. I scanned in all the photos we wanted in the book but our scanner? Bleh. The photos are washed out and not high enough resolution to blow them up to a full-page, as I want several to be. So, no wedding album almost 5 months post-wedding.
My VPA was this: I want someone to scan all of my negatives for me so I can build my book with good quality photos. Today, the Groupon was in my inbox. The universe answered my ad! Now I just have to pick out the 150 or so negatives I want scanned for my book and take them in.
Groupon rocks. (http://www.groupon.com)
Random Tuesday Ramblings
Posted by: | Comments
It’s Tuesday, which means random ramblings. To read the random thoughts of others and see the master who created the blogging phenomenon, check out the Unmom.
One. Happy Birthday, dear blog, happy birthday to you.
For some reason, I had it in my head that human, being was born in early February 2009. Nope. Last night, I checked and she was born on Jan. 4, 2009.
I remember coming up with the idea of this blog while walking to my car after work. I had shut down another long-term blog and was writing notes on Facebook. I wanted a bigger audience, so I found WordPress and started making a new blog.
I’ve always tended to write a rather open journal/life blog about the condition of being human. I had also just read something about the idea that we are spiritual beings having human experiences, and part of our struggle as humans is to be rather than do.
Since I’m on the path of learning how to just be, I thought I’d title the new blog human (comma) being. As in I’m a human working on being who I am. And that’s how the sausage was made.
I think it takes most bloggers a year or so to really figure out what their blog is about. This blog is about telling my story so that I can inspire, inform, amuse and entertain you. Some of what I write is a cautionary tale. Some of what I write is about getting the poison out of me so I can move on. Some of what I write is about gratitude. And most of it is probably TMI. Oh well. Hi, I’m Lynn, and I’m addicted to telling my story with very little filter.
I’m so grateful for every single person who reads human, being. I’m grateful for my handful of subscribers, and for the people who comment. I’m grateful for the people who send me emails. I’m even grateful for all the weirdos who find this blog by searching for naked kids (because my most successful post is about nudist camps for kids).
I love my blog. I don’t know what I’d do without it. I don’t know who I’d be without it, because it (and you) have become a key part of where I’m going and how I’m growing. Thank you.
Two. I’m being inundated by offers of retreats and classes and journeys.
Lately, I’ve unsubscribed to most of the mommybloggers I used to read because I’m not getting much out of them, and subscribed to a bunch of people who I think will help me along the new trajectory of growth I can feel myself beginning. The trick is that all of them offer retreats and coaching and eBooks and classes and interesting journeys. And, I want to do every single one of them.
Which is part of why I wrote the blog last night about what I need, right now. I feel overwhelmed by gurus.
I’d like to do some of this retreat work. I think it would be a) fun and b) forward-moving and c) inspiring. It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like a retreat or class. But how to choose? And how to pay? Dilemmas. Universe? Any help here?
Three. Depression check-in.
I think the combination of counseling and homeopathy and Vitamin D and T3 has really helped my feelings of depression this season. The physical symptoms are still there–lack of motivation is strong, lack of focus is strong, sugar cravings are moderate. But the actual sadness and irritation and seething rage that usually make up the end of January and early February are just hovering along the edges.
What I have felt, though, is anxiety. Crushing, can’t leave the house anxiety. As I’ve felt this, I’ve come to realize that anxiety has always been part of my SAD picture. I didn’t recognize it before. I have no good tools for managing anxiety, separately from the depression, aside from valium, which I have taken to get out of the house on a couple of days. Last Thursday, when I couldn’t go to work, anxiety was my jailer. Yet another layer in the complicated physiology of Lynn to understand.
Four. Salsa partner search.
On Sunday, I went to a party at Motion en Fuego, Brigette Ellis’s studio, that was designated as a partner search. And, once again, I was disappointed. Male salsa dancers in Denver tend to get to the advanced beginner/early intermediate level and stall out. There were a lot of guys there, but only one was interested in performing and none were interested in competing.
So, since I’m working on listening to the universe (as always) and letting go of the HARD to make way for the EASY, I think I’m going to change my Very Personal Ad, which I posted on Havi Brooks’ The Fluent Self blog on Sunday. I do not want to find a salsa partner. I want a salsa partner to find me. I am taking the search off my plate, and asking the universe and all who are in it to bring me someone who wants to practice, perform and compete. (and so it is, amen)
Five. Car conversations.
For most of first and second grade, Lauren hated to talk to me about school. I’d ask her questions, and she’d get more and more obstinate, which led to me trying to force her to talk to me, which led to her literally pinching her lips shut and shaking her head with her fingers in her ears. Nice.
Something happened in third grade. Now, she volunteers information about what she’s learning as soon as she gets in the car. She’s very engaged while discussing what they’re learning about the Gold Rush, and this book called Shiloh she’s reading in her book club. She loves me to quiz her on her times tables and her spelling challenge words. And, she’s even volunteering information about her social life, which before seemed to be the greatest secret on earth.
When you have a baby, for the first many years you know almost everything that happens in her life. When I got divorced, I lost the experience of half of her life–the time she spends with her dad. The 8 o’clock phone call ritual rarely bears much more fruit than a quick goodnight. It’s both great and weird to be getting (finally) this glimpse into my daughter as a real person with real feelings and thoughts and fears and frustrations. Yes, she’s always had those, but at 8 and two-thirds she finally has the intellect and vocabulary to express all of it.
And I’m loving it. Especially the car conversations. They rock.
Six. Girl stuff.
Tomorrow I’m going to upload some old blogs about my struggles with the Fucking Mirena and the Aftermath, which is basically abnormal cycles to the max. I think, like my blog on Vitamin D (my second most popular blog), these tales can help other women who think they are losing their minds, as I did, but rather are just having bad side effects from progestin.
Dear body, please decide. Am I still fertile, or not? Because this 35 days of bleeding, followed by 40+ days (now) of not bleeding, with little hints that you might be letting it flow any day, then not, is on my last nerve.
Yes, 40 and a half is a little early for menopause. I tried progesterone cream and re-entered puberty. I tried Vitex and had cycles like I’m having now without taking anything. I’m grateful that I’m not having hot flashes or night sweats. I’d just really like some regularity, you know? So I know when to wear my $20 fancy panties and when to wear the $2 granny panties. Thanks for listening.
Random Tuesday Randomness #6
Posted by: | CommentsIt’s random Tuesday, ya’ll! If you want to play, please visit the Un-Mom’s site and put your name in the Mr. Linky.
One. Blackout curtains
Our bedroom has been so cozy and pitch dark since I moved the blackout curtains from hanging on the outside of our windowseat to covering the window itself that I have slept through my alarm twice now. This morning I opened them and watched the sun rise as I used my light box. Both made me feel better today.
Two. Christmas shopping
I’m just not into it this year. The kids both want expensive things. I had no idea that Littlest Pet Shops were so freaking expensive. Ryan as usual wants video games, which means he gets about 2 presents to open from us AND Santa. I’m at a loss for what to buy Steve or my family members this year. Is it cheesy to say screw it and buy nothing but gift cards? Does Santa give gift cards?
Three. Books
I’ve read two and a half really great books recently. The first is The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, which was full of gorgeous writing and storytelling. I want to write a book that pretty someday. The second is The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which was entertaining and the first whodunit in years that caught me by surprise. The half is Gate at the Stairs, which I’m halfway through and loving. I’m partially loving it because the author, Lorrie Moore, signed it for me. I can hardly put it down. What in the world shall I read next?
Four. Winter
I know I’ve been a bummer lately. That’s winter for you. I’m feeling better today after three solid days of lightbox use. I didn’t realize how much it was helping me until I stopped. Kind of like Joan Rivers and botox.
Five. Boredom
Are you bored? I am. But also un-energetic. I want to go someplace new, have an adventure, take a risk. It’s been a long time. I keep finding myself in clothing stores, as if adding a new blouse will rip me from the clutches of monotony. But it doesn’t. It just adds another thing to the Goodwill pile next year or the year after.
Six. Values
I’ve been thinking about what I truly value, or as I should write Value with a capital V. Those are the things that should guide my life and my spending habits. And they are, in no particular order:
- learning/experiencing new things
- physical and mental well being
- creating things
- sharing what I know
- connecting with people
Nowhere in that list is “fashion” or “big house” or “television and internet staring” or “fancy car.” Yet these–not the things in my list–are the things I either tend to spend my money and time on or feel strong desire to spend my money and time on. Things that make you go hmmm. I think I need more than chiropractic to get myself back into alignment.
Happy Tuesday to all, and to all a good rest of the week.
Random Tuesday Thoughts
Posted by: lynn | Comments (1)One. I (heart) my comment spam.
Whenever I’m feeling a bit down, I go read my comment spam. These spammers, they have the compliment DOWN. They make me feel so smart and useful and successful. Except for the one that tells me maybe I should do more research on the topic, because I’m an idiot. And, if I click through (but not at work for god’s sake), I often find some decent porn.
Two. The overwhelm continues.
I was concerned that my new director didn’t know that I exist. Not anymore. Four emails yesterday. He is enthusiastic. He is smart. He is ON IT. And he’s not even officially in the job yet. This is going to be a sea change for me, because I’ve pretty much been able to do my job and check in with the person in that seat as I wanted to. He’s going to keep me on my toes.
I’m struggling between sticking to my already overflowing to-do list and jumping on what he wants me to do. And that’s why I’ve worked almost 20 hours between yesterday and today.
Three. LOST!
The season premiere better live up to expectations.
Four. New nephew the late-night host.
My new nephew is very cute for a newborn. However, I’m struggling to remember his name: Carson. I keep saying Carter. Since I’m not a late-night TV watcher, I keep thinking: Ok, what was that dude’s name on the Tonight Show? The original one? With the turban and the fat dude? Johnny something … ah yes. Carson. This morning I called Laurel and told her she has to name her kid something easy, like George or Mary, so I can remember it.
I held Carson for 10 minutes in the hospital on Sunday, and I had ZERO baby craving. None. I batted my eyes at Steve, who was sitting in the corner of the room as far away as possible from said newborn, and asked, “Don’t I look great wearing this baby?” His reply, in effect: “Yes, but you look better when you take it off.”
Five. Woot! Personal Essay Writing Class!
I used to be a regular at Lighthouse Writers Workshop, Denver’s rock star writing community. Can you say Carleen Brice? And David Wroblewski? Not to mention Colorado’s Poet Laureate, Chris Ransick, and a bunch of other figures of literary awesomeness.
I had been an avid poet and short story writer, and I loved my workshops–the sharing, the bonding, the teachers, the students, the writing. When I had Lauren, I stopped workshopping. OK, I stopped writing. For years. I’ve taken a few half-day courses. And in 2005 I attended about half of the 8-week novel writing class I paid for (I didn’t love that teacher, unfortunately).
I’m very excited about this new 8-week class on personal essay writing because I already have a place to publish my essays: here. And I’m excited to learn from the teacher, Shari Caudron.
Mostly, I’m excited to have story assignments. I do so much better with them.
Six. Massage Envy: Rubbing me the wrong way.
For the past 2 years, I’ve had a membership at Massage Envy, that chain massage place where you pay $49 a month for a massage. My experience there has been touch-and-go: The first year, I found a therapist I loved. Then he left, probably to open his own place and make more money. Since then, I haven’t found someone who rubs me the right way.
I’ve decided to quit my membership for a few reasons.
First, I’m not going often enough to justify $50 a month. I have four unused massages sitting in my account right now.
Second, no one is clicking with me.Did I mention the very overweight therapist I’ve gotten stuck with who SWEATED on me during treatment? Or the guy with bad cigarette breath?
Third, the therapists have time management issues when it comes to sessions longer than 50 minutes. For example, last month I had a 90 minute massage, during which the therapist spent a ton of time on my lower back, then lost track of time and had to rush through the rest of it. Since I’m so bad at using my membership, I tend to do 90 and 120 minute massages. See first.
Fourth: Each massage room has a sign suggesting the tip. In general, I think that’s rude. It makes your customers think tipping is required, or that if they don’t tip they’re a schmuck. (I do tip every time; I just don’t like being told to do it.) In addition, the tip card suggests tips on the “industry standard” rates of $65 for an hour massage or $95 for 90 minutes.
I’m sorry, but that’s like saying to a restaurant guest, you know, we decided as a marketing ploy to charge a regular price of $50 for your steak, but across the street you’d pay $95 for the same thing, so why don’t you tip the waiter on the amount you’d pay across the street. Call me petty, but this bugs the shit out of me to the point that I think about the tip the whole time I’m being massaged.
Final Straw: Sunday. I signed up for a two-hour massage, and got booked with a new therapist. She was nice, and we chatted a bit to get started. She did a great job of working my arms, hands and wrists for about 10 minutes total, which is much longer than anyone ever works those areas. Then, she started on my shoulders. And stayed on them — and particularly on two silver-dollar-sized sections on the front of my shoulder joint — to the point where it hurt and I had to ask her to move on. And she kept coming back to those points. I had asked for full body massage. I had asked her to move on. I was naked under a sheet. I was in a vulnerable position. I couldn’t exactly get mad out loud now could I? So I lay there and seethed. And winced.
In the end, she spent more than an hour and 10 minutes rubbing my shoulders and neck, and then rushed the rest of the massage. She hit every raw nerve in my body. It was like she was massaging my bones instead of my muscles. (I know these people are certified by law in Colorado, but this person must have barely passed.) And then, the time was up and I had to tip. I gave her $20 and was pissed (see Fourth, above). For the rest of the day, I was sick, and sore, and headachey, and nauseous. Yesterday morning, I saw the bruises: two black and blue points on the fronts of my shoulders. I am pissed. It’s the last straw, so I’m quitting.
I’ll have 30 days to use up my remaining 4 massages, but I guarantee I’ll to them in 4 50 minute sessions. Talk about rubbing me the wrong way.