Well, checking in once every blue moon just isn’t cutting the mustard!
I am truly very busy with school. This class is taking a lot more of my free time than I thought it would. I have to attend tons of plays, as well as class every week and writing papers. I’m so not complaining though…just trying to give you an idea of where I’ve been. The last play I saw was The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui and it was the best thing I saw all season. Really amazing. I’m going to make this play the focus of my final paper, so next week, when I don’t have the Dude, I’m going back to watch it again and again. My mom may try to see it as well. I want everyone I know to see this play. I want the Dude to be old enough to see this play. Amazing. If you are in the vicinity of the University of Delaware, get thee to the REP box office and score some tickets. Oh, but please wait until after I’ve bought all mine, okay?
The X finally removed himself from my auto insurance, so I gladly called the office to see what my new monthly payment would be. Well, first they wouldn’t give me the new payment until I gave them my new checking account number, then they said they had to call back with the info I needed. My insurance payment went up! I paid off my vehicle, moved to a safer area in the city; stopped parking in the street, and my payment was increased. Oh, hell no. I called MetLife and got a completely charming representative who helped me get a new policy drawn up. Because my company has an associate discount plan, they quoted me literally half of what the unnamed bastards wanted to charge for the Exact. Same. Policy. Thank you, Stephen. Thank you, MetLife. Smooches!
The divorce looms; papers get filed the first of July. It seems to strange that so much time has passed. I looked over the EZ divorce packet, and my head was swimming. I think I may have a mental block or two going on, so thank heavens I have an attorney uncle to walk me through.
That’s it for today, but I promise regular updates from now on! Things are in motion, so I should have much better stories for the future!
TTFN, K.J.
05 May 2010
01 April 2010
A simple case of mistaken identity.
I like Facebook. I'm not crazy about Facebook, spending my time farming animals and shooting gangsters, but I like to meet up with people I went to school with and see what they are up to. Anyway, I added this guy I went to high school with. He was so much fun and we used to hang out all the time. He taught me how to pack my cigarettes and french inhale. He wore Birks when guys didn't wear Birks. Yeah, I had a little boy-crush, so what? Moving on. His kid sister went to school with us and would sometimes come to parties. I always felt bad for her because she had really bad acne and a great personality. Basically a dating death sentence for a high school girl. Sometimes she would tag along to parties but never really got into the party scene. I always figured she would turn out great, much more together than, say, my "inhaling" funnel-slamming self. After I friended this guy, naturally I went looking for his sister to see what she was up to. Found her! She looked great! She had traveled all over the world, let her hair grow out, fixed up her skin, moved out of Delaware. Everything I thought she would do. I was so proud.
Until last night.
When I noticed someone commenting on old high school pictures of my friends. This person had a surprisingly familiar face. Oh, dear. THIS is the girl I thought I had friended months ago. I had been sending a complete stranger winks, "likes," and comments. The other girl had been so gracious, never once saying, "Umm, who are you?" I never knew. And, while I'm glad to have the actual girl added as a friend, I'm going to be sad to remove the wrong girl. You see, the actual girl hasn't traveled all over the world, let her hair grow out, or moved out of Delaware. It's kind of like I'm hanging on to what I think this girl should be. I am completely hung up on someone I have never met.
I may need therapy. Or to get laid. Most likely both.
Until last night.
When I noticed someone commenting on old high school pictures of my friends. This person had a surprisingly familiar face. Oh, dear. THIS is the girl I thought I had friended months ago. I had been sending a complete stranger winks, "likes," and comments. The other girl had been so gracious, never once saying, "Umm, who are you?" I never knew. And, while I'm glad to have the actual girl added as a friend, I'm going to be sad to remove the wrong girl. You see, the actual girl hasn't traveled all over the world, let her hair grow out, or moved out of Delaware. It's kind of like I'm hanging on to what I think this girl should be. I am completely hung up on someone I have never met.
I may need therapy. Or to get laid. Most likely both.
04 March 2010
The Intimidation Factor
I have a paper due on Tuesday. I thought I had a topic and I thought I would be able to jam it out, like in the good old days, but I'm beginning to think I must have made those days up because I am struggling. It's pretty bad when I am looking around my room thinking of something else I can clean rather than write. I also have to do my nails. And clean my truck. Oh, and fly to Chile and help with the disaster relief.
I sat here for over two hours last night trying to write an outline. All I accomplished was a burning sensation that my topic was just awful. The pits. What the hell is wrong with me? I used to be able to write this kind of paper in between classes and parties. 30 minutes, max. Three pages, bang it out, a few editorial changes, turn it in for the A...or at the very least, a B.
I've been trying to figure out my major malfunction all day and this is what I came up with. I'm intimidated. I am so preoccupied with writing a grad level paper that I can't focus on the paper itself. I have to come to terms with the fact that I could do really well on this paper, or I could do terribly. This is the first of many and there is no way to know what I'm doing right or wrong until I get this first paper graded. I really hate that. I need to know what to expect. I don't want to take a bad score just because I don't have a feel for things yet. This sucks.
To hell with it. I'm just going to get it written and do the best I can.
I sat here for over two hours last night trying to write an outline. All I accomplished was a burning sensation that my topic was just awful. The pits. What the hell is wrong with me? I used to be able to write this kind of paper in between classes and parties. 30 minutes, max. Three pages, bang it out, a few editorial changes, turn it in for the A...or at the very least, a B.
I've been trying to figure out my major malfunction all day and this is what I came up with. I'm intimidated. I am so preoccupied with writing a grad level paper that I can't focus on the paper itself. I have to come to terms with the fact that I could do really well on this paper, or I could do terribly. This is the first of many and there is no way to know what I'm doing right or wrong until I get this first paper graded. I really hate that. I need to know what to expect. I don't want to take a bad score just because I don't have a feel for things yet. This sucks.
To hell with it. I'm just going to get it written and do the best I can.
19 February 2010
Thoughts while waiting for the play to start last night.
These student seats are just terrible. I had no idea the front row of orchestra seating meant I would be sitting under the stage.
I am the oldest person in this row.
I am no longer the oldest person in this row. Grandma Moses and I make up the entire adult ed population.
The two kids sitting to my left keep looking for Paul. Paul's dad has an apartment in the city that he only uses when he has to work in the city that would be perfect for a party. Paul is supposed to be bringing his girlfriend. Paul is finally spotted, in a balcony seat. I would really like to meet Paul.
The girls sitting to my right skipped dinner. They are eating a little bag of Cheez-Its like fugitives so they don't get caught eating in the theater.
The play begins....It is magnificent.
Intermission.
The kids to my left have decided not to stay. They are only here for extra credit after all, and they have already seen the required six characters.
The starving girls to my right have abandoned the Cheez-Its bag on the floor. I wonder if I should say something.
The Cheez-It girl just took out her birth control pills and took one. What a strange time to be thinking about birth control pills. Then again, the lead actor is gorgeous.
The play continues...Act two is even more magnificent than act one.
The evening ends with Q&A with the actors. The lead actor is not as hot without his Victorian ponytail. Disappointing.
On the ride home, I reflect on a few things. I love this theater company. I should never try to do this on a work night again. I will pay the extra money to stay out of the student seating.
I am the oldest person in this row.
I am no longer the oldest person in this row. Grandma Moses and I make up the entire adult ed population.
The two kids sitting to my left keep looking for Paul. Paul's dad has an apartment in the city that he only uses when he has to work in the city that would be perfect for a party. Paul is supposed to be bringing his girlfriend. Paul is finally spotted, in a balcony seat. I would really like to meet Paul.
The girls sitting to my right skipped dinner. They are eating a little bag of Cheez-Its like fugitives so they don't get caught eating in the theater.
The play begins....It is magnificent.
Intermission.
The kids to my left have decided not to stay. They are only here for extra credit after all, and they have already seen the required six characters.
The starving girls to my right have abandoned the Cheez-Its bag on the floor. I wonder if I should say something.
The Cheez-It girl just took out her birth control pills and took one. What a strange time to be thinking about birth control pills. Then again, the lead actor is gorgeous.
The play continues...Act two is even more magnificent than act one.
The evening ends with Q&A with the actors. The lead actor is not as hot without his Victorian ponytail. Disappointing.
On the ride home, I reflect on a few things. I love this theater company. I should never try to do this on a work night again. I will pay the extra money to stay out of the student seating.
11 February 2010
08 February 2010
She’s got legs; she knows how to use them.
Dear Fellow Office Employees,
What is up with the leggings trend? It has to stop. Well, it has to stop in the office environment where no one wants to see exactly how many squats you do in your spare time. Furthermore, we really don’t want to see how few squats you are doing in your spare time.
I knew when our dress code was altered to include jeans and sandals that we may have a problem. The very next day, someone showed up with skintight jeans and Pam Anderson boots. While I am all for self-expression and I love freedom of speech, this does not belong in a corporate office. If you feel the requirement to wear clothes that fit is restricting who you are inside, then you need to consider a different career. Let’s not even discuss what careers encourage your current fashion statement.
Heart cutouts that run down the sides of your jeans are no longer in style (if they ever really were), and the stiletto booties you are wearing with them make you look cheap. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but it looks like no one else has the cajones to tell you that you look like a walking felony.
And I don’t want to see your boobies. I’m just saying.
A side note to the fellows: Gentlemen, a polo shirt under your sports team sweatshirt does not make said sweatshirt acceptable office attire. I know the dress code indicates that you must have a collared shirt under your sweater, but we have to draw the line somewhere. And stop tight-rolling your jeans cuffs so you can show off your awesome hiking boots that are in no way the sneakers that you’re not allowed to wear (wink, wink). In fact, while we’re talking about shoes, stop wearing ankle high white sweat socks with your dress shoes. Ankle high black sweat socks are also not okay. While we’re on the subject, is it really that hard to put on an undershirt? I don’t want to see your chest hair peeking through your white dress shirt. YOUR TIE IS NOT HIDING ANYTHING.
In conclusion, let me say this; I know how hard it is to get up in the morning and face the world without something in your life to make you smile. I realize that, as corporate office employees, sometimes we rely on that new pair of shoes or the occasional mall binge to bring a little sunshine into a dreary, vitamin D deficient existence, but please, please consider what you are showing the world. Make sure the pants fit in the butt, make sure the shirt buttons flat over the chest (or belly, I mean really, EWW), make sure the socks match the shoes, and make sure the shoes match your ambitions in life. If you have to get creative why not give exciting panties a try, and no one else has to suffer.
With Love,
KJ
What is up with the leggings trend? It has to stop. Well, it has to stop in the office environment where no one wants to see exactly how many squats you do in your spare time. Furthermore, we really don’t want to see how few squats you are doing in your spare time.
I knew when our dress code was altered to include jeans and sandals that we may have a problem. The very next day, someone showed up with skintight jeans and Pam Anderson boots. While I am all for self-expression and I love freedom of speech, this does not belong in a corporate office. If you feel the requirement to wear clothes that fit is restricting who you are inside, then you need to consider a different career. Let’s not even discuss what careers encourage your current fashion statement.
Heart cutouts that run down the sides of your jeans are no longer in style (if they ever really were), and the stiletto booties you are wearing with them make you look cheap. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but it looks like no one else has the cajones to tell you that you look like a walking felony.
And I don’t want to see your boobies. I’m just saying.
A side note to the fellows: Gentlemen, a polo shirt under your sports team sweatshirt does not make said sweatshirt acceptable office attire. I know the dress code indicates that you must have a collared shirt under your sweater, but we have to draw the line somewhere. And stop tight-rolling your jeans cuffs so you can show off your awesome hiking boots that are in no way the sneakers that you’re not allowed to wear (wink, wink). In fact, while we’re talking about shoes, stop wearing ankle high white sweat socks with your dress shoes. Ankle high black sweat socks are also not okay. While we’re on the subject, is it really that hard to put on an undershirt? I don’t want to see your chest hair peeking through your white dress shirt. YOUR TIE IS NOT HIDING ANYTHING.
In conclusion, let me say this; I know how hard it is to get up in the morning and face the world without something in your life to make you smile. I realize that, as corporate office employees, sometimes we rely on that new pair of shoes or the occasional mall binge to bring a little sunshine into a dreary, vitamin D deficient existence, but please, please consider what you are showing the world. Make sure the pants fit in the butt, make sure the shirt buttons flat over the chest (or belly, I mean really, EWW), make sure the socks match the shoes, and make sure the shoes match your ambitions in life. If you have to get creative why not give exciting panties a try, and no one else has to suffer.
With Love,
KJ
04 February 2010
I'll show you mine...
I had a really interesting conversation with a coworker yesterday. She was divorced last year and is really struggling making ends meet. Now, granted, she has a seriously bigger fish to fry than I do, what with having to raise three kids and make a mortgage payment on her part-time salary. These were bills that were paid with her husband’s two jobs and her salary before, and now she’s making it on her own. He pays child support, exactly to the penny of the court order and nothing more. It doesn’t seem to matter to him that she is paying for cheerleading classes, gymnastics, daycare, orthodontics, and medical benefits. What a prince.
Anyway, it occurred to me that we really aren’t open to each other as women in this society. I mean, this has been going on with her for at least a year now, and I have had my troubles for a few months, we have been workmates for three years and never mentioned our trouble to each other. Yesterday I was discussing medical bills and just came out with the information that I am a credit nightmare and it’s going to take me years to rebuild…and out came her story. Amazing that we never thought to share with each other and seek comfort and guidance. This morning it was like we were two different people. We had stories about ex-spouse drama, bills, and the most diplomatic ways to handle terrible situations. (Well, when we can hold our tempers long enough to be diplomatic. Admittedly, this sometimes doesn’t happen.)
I wonder sometimes how much better we would feel if we just let it out. I think this must take a huge amount of trust, though. I mean, what if I spill my guts about some crazy thing that is going on in my life…and the person I share it with doesn’t tell me anything about herself? Instead, she makes mental notes about my suffering and decides to make me the next big gossip topic or looks down on me for the rest of our friendship? There are people that would do that, people who use your trouble to make themselves feel superior. When do we start to trust each other? Or do we keep paying a c-note to our therapist for the privilege of getting something off our chests?
Anyway, it occurred to me that we really aren’t open to each other as women in this society. I mean, this has been going on with her for at least a year now, and I have had my troubles for a few months, we have been workmates for three years and never mentioned our trouble to each other. Yesterday I was discussing medical bills and just came out with the information that I am a credit nightmare and it’s going to take me years to rebuild…and out came her story. Amazing that we never thought to share with each other and seek comfort and guidance. This morning it was like we were two different people. We had stories about ex-spouse drama, bills, and the most diplomatic ways to handle terrible situations. (Well, when we can hold our tempers long enough to be diplomatic. Admittedly, this sometimes doesn’t happen.)
I wonder sometimes how much better we would feel if we just let it out. I think this must take a huge amount of trust, though. I mean, what if I spill my guts about some crazy thing that is going on in my life…and the person I share it with doesn’t tell me anything about herself? Instead, she makes mental notes about my suffering and decides to make me the next big gossip topic or looks down on me for the rest of our friendship? There are people that would do that, people who use your trouble to make themselves feel superior. When do we start to trust each other? Or do we keep paying a c-note to our therapist for the privilege of getting something off our chests?
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