While we were on the road, my boss started talking about the stigma/silence surrounding miscarriages. It had proper context, but I've forgotten what it was now. We were boarding a plane at the time, so this conversation was within earshot of others.
Boss: I'm glad you were open with your thing. You know, there is all this weird stigma about talking about, you know...it.
Me: Yes, apparently so much stigma that you can't even say "miscarriage" out loud.
He really didn't want to say it, though. It was weird.
For dinner my co-workers and I went to an Irish Pub right by the hotel.
We sat down next to an old couple that eats there every week and has for 20-some years.
They're native New Yorkers living in Boston after meeting in San Francisco and they'd been married 58 years.
The husband asked us where we were from.
Co-worker: I'm from California and these guys are from Minnesota.
Husband: [Referring to me] Oh yeah, she looks like she's from Minnesota.
Co-worker (sarcastic): Really. How can you tell?
Husband: She looks so...healthy.
I think co-worker expected the old dude to say "Scandinavian" or blonde or something. Newp. I am a picture of Minnesotan health.
I don't even know what that's supposed to mean.
The other day I was talking about D&D with someone and it made me think of an old friend of mine. We haven't been in touch in maybe 10 years. I have no idea where he is or what he's doing. So I thought I'd try to look him up.
Unfortunately, his name is SUPER generic and we've been out of touch so long (through multiple computers, emails, phones) that I have nothing to go on and NO clue as to what he could be doing. I don't think we have any current friends in common, either.
Seriously. His name is Chris Anderson. Try googling THAT and finding the One Specific Dude you actually want to find. It's pretty much impossible.
I've been streaming old episodes of Queer as Folk (US version) while scanning family photos in the massive Family Scanning Photo Martyrdom Project (I kid...but fuck does it eat up a lot of time...and I can't really do anything else while scanning).
This fulfills two photo-scanning-TV requirements. 1. It's not something D is interested in watching with me and 2. It doesn't require my full attention.
Plus, watching hot guys dancing shirtless and having sex (well, TV-sex) with each other is a nice bonus.
1. Maaaan. Overall the show is pretty lame/cheesy in a way I didn't realize watching it the first way around. I find myself thinking, multiple times, "Dude, a real person would never act that way ever..." Of course, it's meant to be over-the-top, potato-chip TV, so... I take it for what it's worth. Dramaaaaa!
2. I'm pretty impatient w/r/t gay rights. Older friends constantly remind me how quickly the gay rights movement is progressing and tease me for being so impatient (fuck progress and small victories, it should be better NOW because how can people even feel any other way?!?). However, seeing the restrictions and "issues" brought up by QaF highlights how far we've come and how quickly it's happened. In, what, 2000? 2001? the prevailing opinion on the show was that gay people would never, ever, ever be able to get "real"-married. It was mentioned as a total pipe-dream. There was no reality in the whole world where that would happen. And now look at us. It's not perfect and it's not universal, but gay people can get married in MN.
Progress! Small victories!
I was chatting about social anxiety with my boss. (It was in a specific context--I wasn't just randomly whining.) He said to me:
"You got to realize something, Missy... no one really gives enough of a shit about you to spend their time judging you."
Which is ... oddly comforting?
Last night I went to a book launch party that was only partially dull (free wine saved it). It ended quite early and we decided to skip down to Bar La Grassa for dinner. I'd never been. But I'd heard good things.
We got a seat immediately at the pasta bar and ordered prosciutto for an appetizer. Now I know that "grassa" means fat so we weren't getting a healthy meal here, but they garnished the prosciutto WITH CURLS OF BUTTER. Curls of butter, for fuck's sake.
Our pasta dishes were like 15 minutes late so the manager comped them. Frankly we didn't mind, notice, or ask. It would have been worse if we were staaaaarving, but we had already taken the edge off with some BUTTER CURL prosciutto.
Dude. That's just weird.
Not that it wasn't darned tasty. :D
Aaaaand now I'm gonna run like a million miles tonight.
I think a good lesson to learn in life is to not be harder on yourself than you are on other people*.
I've been slowly learning it. My last week's post about my own body image was eye-opening to me: I would NEVER say or *think* the negative, awful, bullyish things that I say to myself to/about other people. Wouldn't dream of it. Don't do it. Don't even think it. Doesn't enter my mind. Nor would I stand idly by while someone else said those things to another person**. So why would I allow myself to say those things to ME? I mean, I'm allowed to indulge in insecurities sometimes--everyone does it--but what is the point in the harshness?
It's the same with job/career worries. I've had mounting anxiety over the past week due to a few different minor and relatively insignificant triggers. If someone else were to ask me for advice, I'd reassure them and tell them to examine the triggers that made them feel that way and ask themselves if the triggers justified the anxiety.
I give other people good advice and support--and I mean it. I want other people to succeed. I think a lot of other people are way too hard on themselves. Yet I do the same thing.
But beating yourself up and sending yourself into anxiety and insecurity spirals gets you nowhere. No other GOOD, kind person in the world would ever do that to you. Why should you do that to yourself?
There are some times when everything feels awful and wrong and NO GOOD AT ALL. It feels like it will never get better in those moments. I would tell someone else to step back and examine why things feel that way. I've gotten much better at doing this myself (it happens most when I'm overly tired...and I can't think myself out of the spiral). It doesn't help the feeling in the moment--because it's rarely based on rational thought--but it helps me to know that that feeling will end soon and if I can ride it out things will inevitably be better soonish.
I think it's really important to remember to be kind to yourself.
It sounds like a stupid affirmation, and it is a bit, but it's still important.
*Let's assume that you're not a total dick to other people.
**In fact, one of two times in my life I told my grandmother to shut the hell up was when she was constantly berating my (still developing 9 year old cousin) about his weight. (He is now a totally normal, healthy 21 year old with no weight issues whatsoever.) The other time was when my other little cousin (his older brother) refused to take a yucky-tasting medicine and my grandmother wanted to deal with the situation by completely tearing him down...calling him a "bad boy" and saying things like "this was just how he was, and he was such an awful child etc."...he was 6.
Hey! Play this with your daughter! It'll be totally fun. "Here honey, this is all there is to look forward to in life. Your accomplishments are measured in laundry and low-calorie lunches!" Oh 1963.
We have a girl-bathroom and a boy-bathroom at work. Saint Paul requires two bathrooms for a certain size office space.
The "girl" bathroom is all mine. I'm the only girl who works here. It has a picture of Peggy Olsen and Pippi Longstocking on it. (The boy bathroom has Ernest Hemingway in a bathtub and Don Draper.) When we have a large number of guests, both bathrooms get used by both sexes.
Which is fine. Because I think sex-differentiated bathrooms in such a small space is kind of a silly thing anyway, and I don't much care about unisex bathrooms as long as they're clean.
We have an artist here (my favorite kinda-stoner who laughs at all my stupid jokes and I need to set up with someone because he's ADORABLE times a million) doing some work on a project. He insists--when both bathrooms are open--on using the girl bathroom.
Which, again, is totally fine by me....except that he WILL NOT put the toilet seat back down. Will not. Ever.
For some reason this irritates me more than it should. I mean...use the other bathroom or put the toilet seat down when you're done. I talked to him about it, but he just forgets. I put post-its under the seat and on the mirror. I duct-taped off the bathroom entrance. And still. He's totally just doing it to fuck with me now.
This is just not something I've had to deal with before. I never, ever, ever have to remind D about the toilet seat. Ever. It always shocks me when his dad or brother visit and leave the seat up...because it makes me wonder where D learned to just put it back down automatically. It also reaffirms my belief that I married the most awesome D-boy. As if I had any doubts (I didn't).
Apparently: "Oh! [Boss]! I didn't know you were inviting your little friends over to play 'business'!" is not the proper way to address the group when you find that your boss is hosting his board meeting at your office space.
But it *is* the funny way.
I should go in with a tray of fruit snacks or something. "Are you boys having fun? Do your companies know you're staying for lunch?"
You guys. The last time my grandma made these hamburger cookies (with Nilla wagers, thin mints, frosting and coconut) I was about 10. These cookies are 20 years old. Right there in the cupboard. My dad: "Oh my god. Do not even open that."
Also, a critical boob update:
And then there were two.
We found a gopher skull today. It was in with dollhouse furniture.
I worked late last night, finishing up a few presentations. I ran my battery to near-zero.
This morning, upon starting up, I was greeted by this:
Over and over again. This computer is less than a year old, by the way.
To the genius bar it goes. Um. So. I do back it up...but not very often. Most of my work work is backed up in multiple places.
But I was also using this computer to scan all the pictures from my grandma's old albums. I have (without exaggeration) days and days of very tedious work on there. Not backed up. Oh, I thought about it last Saturday, but didn't want to fuss with it at the time. Of course.
Fuuuuuuck. Well, let's hope that they can get it to boot back up without wiping my drive. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
Poetry is often inaccessible and obtuse. It's one of those things that you must be in the right head-space to tolerate, unless you're particularly poetically inclined.
Today The Emperor of Ice-Cream popped into my head (I get random phrase-poppings, I don't know why) and I realized how long it's been since I've really taken the time to appreciate ANY poetry and I remembered how much I really enjoy some of it.
The Emperor of Ice-Cream
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
D and I watched "Hunger Games: Catching Fire" on Saturday night. Sunday morning, I heard the news that Phillip Seymour Hoffman (Plutarch Heavensbee in HG) was dead.
Me (to D): Time to play: guess which actor in the movie we watched last night is now dead?
D: That Peeta Mellark guy? (Josh Hutcherson).
Me: No. Think drug overdose, not car accident.
D: Jennifer Lawrence?
Me: ?! How, in a movie with Woody Harrelson and Donald Sutherland and Phillip Seymour Hoffman, is your first guess for drug overdose Jennifer Lawrence?!
D: I dunno. Is it Woody Harrelson?
I don't typically get weird about actor deaths or anything, but there's this strange sense of "Oh, I just saw him!" since we just watched HG.
For some reason I cannot explain, Deadeye Dick's "New Age Girl" popped into my head, unbidden. Or, I should say, the part I remembered from middle school popped into my head: "She loves me so, she hates to be alone...she don't eat meat, but she sure likes the bone... ... Mary Mooooooooon..."
I haven't heard the song in its entirety since I was maybe 11 or 12. I remember thinking it was SO NAUGHTY because SEX innuendo! So of course all my friends and I would sing it on the bus. All the time. That and Salt-n-Pepa's "Shoop" (which we sang incessantly and memorized entirely...I'm pretty sure I could still recite a good bit of it from memory if pressed).
I had to look the former up on YouTube, of course. To my surprise, it was not named "Mary Moon".
Man, what a stupid song. SO 1990s. Exactly the type of song a bunch of middle schoolers would love.
I (we) have two episodes of Breaking Bad left in the whole show.
My spoiler-free assessment of the series? MAN is it difficult to watch. It's totally unique in that I feel compelled to continue watching (because I want to know what happens) and yet I do not actually enjoy the experience. It's not the violence; it's that people keep doing shitty things all the time and there is no redemption. It's the old anti-hero conceit times a million. You want the protagonist to get away with something, but you hate him too. You want the police to catch him a little bit, but you hate the police guy.
I suppose it says something that I get so invested in the characters that I care what happens to them, but it's wholly unpleasant 90% of the time. I multitask.
I'm trying to think of a series where I have consistently wanted to know what happened next. Where I've been eager to see the next episode, almost always. Doctor Who (new) was one of those for a while. Orphan Black was like that (but it's not always hard to do that with a single season). Pushing Daisies. The first few seasons of Archer. Game of Thrones (though that's difficult to watch in its own way). Rome. There are probably more, but I can't think of them at the moment.
The last bit of Buffy was a slog--but only because we watched it in such a concentrated period of time. We had to take a break before starting in on Angel...and at first it was NoFun, so we took a longer break and now it's better. Weeds was ultra-compelling at first but the last few seasons were very not. We finished it anyway.
I've never seen some things that have been like that for other people. Lost. Heroes. The Sopranos.
I still have to watch Babylon 5. Once Upon a Time. Lots of things. There is so much media out there.
With any business you develop a language and vernacular unique to the profession. It's easy to forget that the terms you use every day--and are industry-standard--sound really weird to the outside ear.
In the AV/Event industry, for instance, VOG is used all the time. It stands for "Voice of God". It's the term for the voiceover that announces things like, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the event will begin in 5 minutes...please take your seats" or the names of the next presenters. Occasionally people actually do use VOA (Voice of Allah), but mostly just to be smartasses.
SDSU Videos are also common. SDSU is "Sit Down, Shut Up". They are the videos that companies play at the opening of general sessions to cue the audience to take their seats and be quiet. My client was kind of appalled by this term. But it's totally standard.
COC is Client on Com. AV crews pretty much talk smack, make fun of presenters, tell dirty jokes, etc., over the communication headsets ALL THE TIME during the show. When it's COC time, everyone has to be good.
Dude, in other news, this show totally beat the shit out of me. Using fitbit sleep tracking I got 5.01 hours of sleep over THREE nights. That is less than I would normally get in one night. I should get myself a present or something. Boss says I can work from home for the next week if I want. I guess a few 22 hour days are worth that. After this, I go to New Jersey.
Glamor, I tell you, the life I lead is all glamor.
My body is beautiful and strong. It does amazing things. I like it.
I need to remember this the next time I'm feeling awful about my body. I won't, of course, but it would be nice if I could.
I have had 3 large cups of coffee, a diet coke, a pack of Sprees and a grapefruit.
Only 30 or so more pages of script to format into the teleprompter. It is time-consuming, but not difficult. The tedium. It burns. Call time is 6:45 Orlando. Whee! Whee!
The thing is? I could EASILY fall asleep right now. I have my alarm set at hour intervals just in case. Caffeine and sugar, man. They are a limited arsenal against nature.