when me and my boyfriend started throwing around the idea of a vacation to south america during the summer, the summer still seemed way off in the not-so-realistic distance, probably hanging out somewhere with the idea of getting a new job or the idea of us eating freshly harvested veggies from our newly planted (and at that point, dying) garden. there was a month-til-vacation mark in there somewhere; the thrill of realizing that we would in fact reach that point and the disappointment that it was in fact still a full month away and it was still unseasonably freezing cold in chicago when we should have been buzzing around like little springtime bumblebees.
now that someone flipped the summer switch and its suddenly 90 degrees outside and breath-suckingly humid in my apartment, the idea that we go on vacation tomorrow seems a little bit more real. not to mention that my outlook calendar just popped up with a reminder reading: COLOMBIA!!!!! (16 hrs).
everyone keeps asking if i am excited about my trip. i have trouble expressing excitement, but i can always count on my ability to stammer something brilliant out like "yes..." and tack on an endless number of bummers to that sentence. "yes, but i hope i don't forget my passport." "yes, but i didn't learn nearly enough spanish to survive if i'm lost in the tropical jungles of bogota." "yes, but i hope the plane doesn't crash on the way there." "yes, but who is going to water my plant at work while i'm gone?" "yes, but i wish i had gotten a hepatitis A vaccine." "yes, but i hope i'm not kidnapped and forced into the drug trade and come back with a belly full of heroin balloons which burst and kill me while four scary colombian guys in the states are breaking down my bathroom door to cut open my stomach and reclaim their prize." i think i saw some version of that last one on an episode of law&order.
i made the mistake this morning of looking up travel information for colombia. the US government doesn't currently recommend visiting colombia and, in fact, advises against it. it doesn't help that the book i've been reading, banana, mentions present-day colombia as a place filled with thieves and killers who are waiting, just waiting, for me to make it apparent that i am american so that they can steal me away to further their political agendas. taxi drivers will rob you. you should only go to ATMs in malls. don't go out after dark. terrorists will blow up the building you are in. its winter there right now and the temperatures aren't going over 70 degrees. wah wah wah.
i am a very cautious person. i have always been a very cautious person, in all aspects. i wear a seatbelt. i look both ways before crossing the street. i don't drink at all if i'm going to be driving in the next few hours. i take the elevator at my gym early in the morning to avoid lurkers in the stairwell. i don't overdraw my checking account, but just in case i ever do, it is tied to my savings account. there are lots of things i do not do or do not allow to happen. so what is little miss safety vest doing headed to the land of coffee and cocaine?
you have to jump every once in a while, i guess. i went to israel on birthright during college. talk about a place people are scared of going, am i right?? those charged with our safety made sure there were armed soldiers with us at all times but i don't remember ever feeling really unsafe there, even when we were finally allowed to roam free at markets and historial sites. even when we were eating cafeteria-style dinner at the hot springs and watching news coverage of a bombing in another city. come on, parents, it was miles away! we are fine! the worried grandmother inside me supposes most things happen when you're not feeling unsafe.
so, i'm jumping... and if you don't hear from me in two weeks, well, please do me a favor and alert the authorities to the situation in my bathroom.
6.24.2009
6.11.2009
on entries written last fall.
I had ordered ten binders and divider tabs to put together general information books for the staff, and each time I have opened a fresh new plastic-covered binder, the scent takes me right back to that magical time known as the first week of school.
I don’t know about normal people, but I always got bored about midway through the summer. I took voluntary summer school classes almost every year to pass the time, even when I got up into high school. When I was 8 and 9, I used to go to my grandparents’ house in Peoria for several weeks in the summer to take classes at Bradley University. Come on, who doesn’t want to spend their summer learning about chemistry, looking at slides of fossils, completing the Oregon Trail in a classroom environment, or building a model rocket? Who doesn’t want to speak (really) broken Spanish to the kid next to them in ceramics class when he doesn’t have a clue what the teacher is trying to explain?
But summer school could really only take up so much time and then it was back to sitting on my parents bed watching Eureka’s Castle and eating ravioli. Me and Chef Boyardee go way back. My next door neighbor was also one of my childhood best friends, so she could be counted on to create some sort of entertainment. She was a couple of years older than me and therefore much wiser. She taught me how to ride a bike. She taught me to climb trees. She was always good for an afternoon playing Barbies in my basement. When I got older, and moved to Florida, summers were spent trying to avoid being outside for an extended period of time unless we were walking somewhere. Then summer jobs. Then college.
But back to school time, man. That was always the best time. I would have an outfit picked out days in advance. My mom used to make book bags for my older sisters with whatever print they wanted and the year I got my own was an amazing milestone for me. Mine had fish on it. When I was old enough to start receiving a class schedule in the mail, I would be looking for it for weeks. The day it popped up in the mailbox was devoted to agonizing over having first period trigonometry and being stoked on getting the best AP English teacher. And then there was that week just prior to school starting. That one week leading up to it when you suddenly realized, for better or worse, that summer was over.
The first day I would get up early for the first time in months, shove my stuff into my backpack I’d had shoved into the back of my closet since summer school ended, and be on my way. And when first period came around, I’d crack open my brand new 2 inch binder and breathe in that plastic-y vinyl possibly toxic scent. A fresh binder and a fresh possibly toxic year.
As an adult, nothing really takes the place of that first day of school feeling. What else is there that is so central to your life the way that school was? We gain things and we lose things as we age, of course, but I sort of wish I could have retained that feeling for something. Maybe I just haven’t found my thing yet. Does it have to be a job? My roommate said the other day that he sees work as something he does between doing things he wants to do. I said maybe he needs another job. He said all jobs would be like that. The idealist in me would like to disagree, but the realist says he’s probably right. How many people find the perfect job that makes them spring out of bed in the morning, ready to face the day and excited about the challenges that await them? I spring out of bed all right but then I remember that I'm going to work. I more often than not have to remind myself that I only get one shot at the time I have and I should do what makes me happy instead of what is expected of me or what I expect from myself. So I am trying. I am looking. Try to be more assured. Try to be more right there. Try to be less uptight. Try to be more aware.
I don’t know about normal people, but I always got bored about midway through the summer. I took voluntary summer school classes almost every year to pass the time, even when I got up into high school. When I was 8 and 9, I used to go to my grandparents’ house in Peoria for several weeks in the summer to take classes at Bradley University. Come on, who doesn’t want to spend their summer learning about chemistry, looking at slides of fossils, completing the Oregon Trail in a classroom environment, or building a model rocket? Who doesn’t want to speak (really) broken Spanish to the kid next to them in ceramics class when he doesn’t have a clue what the teacher is trying to explain?
But summer school could really only take up so much time and then it was back to sitting on my parents bed watching Eureka’s Castle and eating ravioli. Me and Chef Boyardee go way back. My next door neighbor was also one of my childhood best friends, so she could be counted on to create some sort of entertainment. She was a couple of years older than me and therefore much wiser. She taught me how to ride a bike. She taught me to climb trees. She was always good for an afternoon playing Barbies in my basement. When I got older, and moved to Florida, summers were spent trying to avoid being outside for an extended period of time unless we were walking somewhere. Then summer jobs. Then college.
But back to school time, man. That was always the best time. I would have an outfit picked out days in advance. My mom used to make book bags for my older sisters with whatever print they wanted and the year I got my own was an amazing milestone for me. Mine had fish on it. When I was old enough to start receiving a class schedule in the mail, I would be looking for it for weeks. The day it popped up in the mailbox was devoted to agonizing over having first period trigonometry and being stoked on getting the best AP English teacher. And then there was that week just prior to school starting. That one week leading up to it when you suddenly realized, for better or worse, that summer was over.
The first day I would get up early for the first time in months, shove my stuff into my backpack I’d had shoved into the back of my closet since summer school ended, and be on my way. And when first period came around, I’d crack open my brand new 2 inch binder and breathe in that plastic-y vinyl possibly toxic scent. A fresh binder and a fresh possibly toxic year.
As an adult, nothing really takes the place of that first day of school feeling. What else is there that is so central to your life the way that school was? We gain things and we lose things as we age, of course, but I sort of wish I could have retained that feeling for something. Maybe I just haven’t found my thing yet. Does it have to be a job? My roommate said the other day that he sees work as something he does between doing things he wants to do. I said maybe he needs another job. He said all jobs would be like that. The idealist in me would like to disagree, but the realist says he’s probably right. How many people find the perfect job that makes them spring out of bed in the morning, ready to face the day and excited about the challenges that await them? I spring out of bed all right but then I remember that I'm going to work. I more often than not have to remind myself that I only get one shot at the time I have and I should do what makes me happy instead of what is expected of me or what I expect from myself. So I am trying. I am looking. Try to be more assured. Try to be more right there. Try to be less uptight. Try to be more aware.
4.13.2009
let my j.lyn go.
for the first time in many years, i have taken a step in the semitic direction. this year, i kept passover.
i'm not sure why i decided to go for it this year. since the very first time i realized i was accidentally consuming corn syrup in the form of cherry flavored nerds candy in high school, i have always felt a little bit of trademark guilt when i completely ignored this rather important holiday celebrating my people's exodus from egyptian slavery. it was not how i was brought up. we kept kosher, for goodness sake! it was not what my father wanted for me as he drunkenly banged his fist on our seder table going into his fourteenth chorus of diyenu at the end of the night. this was not what my sunday school teacher would have wanted after feeding us so many tasteless, crumbly parve cookies at snack time.
the obvious facts are these: keeping passover is inconvenient, weird to your friends and co-workers, hard to explain and can be a bummer. crispy-o's and matzo turkey sandwiches were meant to be endured, and in return we are given toasted coconut marshmallows, chocolate cherry macaroons and the privilege of being the chosen people. last week when i went to lunch with co-workers, i ate an apple while they all ate mexican food that looked and smelled good enough for me to bathe in. friday evening, after staying an hour late at work rewriting remarks at the very last possible moment (as usual) for my boss, my first thought was that going out for dinner would be amazing. on saturday night, a particularly foul mood gave me a wild hankering for chicago diner's vegan cheesecake. on sunday i actually felt angered by jack's refusal to eat a grilled cheese sandwich while we were watching old episodes of 'lost' on dvd. i've been eating a lot of matzo pizza. today is only monday and i still have a few days left. the good lord only knows what other temptations will be coming to my island.
so why is this year different from all other years? at first, it was a challenge to myself. i could go for a week without major food groups if i wanted to. i skipped junk food for a whole month! this should have been easy as pie. i could do this. but as the days have slowly ticked by (slowly, i repeat), it has become a different beast. it has become a vacation into my childhood, prior to my family’s spiral into secularity. it was telling my boyfriend how i used to call gefilte fish “dirty fish”, a story that’s probably never been repeated to anyone outside of my extended family. it has re-educated me in one of the many subjects i knew more about as an 8 year old girl than a 24 year old woman. it has sent me up to devon in search of kosher for passover cake mixes. my passover hasn't been perfect. everything i have eaten has not been marked with a kosher for passover "P" or its ridiculously high price tag (ten bucks for some cookies!), but i have followed the basics as well as i can. i have done a whole lot of box-flipping and ingredients-checking. a lot of sighing and placing food back on the shelf. i didn't sell or trash my chometz (i'm not made of money, you know), but i did put it on a reeeally high shelf in the cupboard. to be serious here for a moment, friends, deep down, i admit it: it has reconnected me with... me. whether that is judaism or faith or just nostalgia, i don't really know. i might not believe in god, but i do believe in thousands of years of history, culture and gut-wrenching oppression. i do believe in my relatives killed in the holocaust and stories about my mom going to crystal lake as a little girl and not being able to get a doctor to do a housecall when she or her brothers got sick because it was a jewish household. and i do know that i don't regret doing this. i do know that i would like to do it again next year. i do know that even though i am not a terribly observant jew (... sorry), i am a rather proud jew. and hopefully next year i will even be able to find a seder to attend.
don't get me wrong. i am already planning my post-passover chometz fest and it is going to be fucking fantastic. things i wouldn't even eat normally have been invading my thoughts. taco bell commercials are alluring and dunkin donuts look delicious. this afternoon, i swear to g, i smelled food in the staples office supply megamart while i was searching for 31-tab dividers. I have a bag full of easter candy in my bottom desk drawer given to me by my bunny-celebrating friends. i am glad that this holiday, like all things, shall pass. by this time next week, i will be eating heavily discounted jelly beans with the sort of glee i haven't felt since i was a teenager.
this year, i also ate gefilte fish. whitefish-pike, how i've missed thee! next year in jerusalem.
i'm not sure why i decided to go for it this year. since the very first time i realized i was accidentally consuming corn syrup in the form of cherry flavored nerds candy in high school, i have always felt a little bit of trademark guilt when i completely ignored this rather important holiday celebrating my people's exodus from egyptian slavery. it was not how i was brought up. we kept kosher, for goodness sake! it was not what my father wanted for me as he drunkenly banged his fist on our seder table going into his fourteenth chorus of diyenu at the end of the night. this was not what my sunday school teacher would have wanted after feeding us so many tasteless, crumbly parve cookies at snack time.
the obvious facts are these: keeping passover is inconvenient, weird to your friends and co-workers, hard to explain and can be a bummer. crispy-o's and matzo turkey sandwiches were meant to be endured, and in return we are given toasted coconut marshmallows, chocolate cherry macaroons and the privilege of being the chosen people. last week when i went to lunch with co-workers, i ate an apple while they all ate mexican food that looked and smelled good enough for me to bathe in. friday evening, after staying an hour late at work rewriting remarks at the very last possible moment (as usual) for my boss, my first thought was that going out for dinner would be amazing. on saturday night, a particularly foul mood gave me a wild hankering for chicago diner's vegan cheesecake. on sunday i actually felt angered by jack's refusal to eat a grilled cheese sandwich while we were watching old episodes of 'lost' on dvd. i've been eating a lot of matzo pizza. today is only monday and i still have a few days left. the good lord only knows what other temptations will be coming to my island.
so why is this year different from all other years? at first, it was a challenge to myself. i could go for a week without major food groups if i wanted to. i skipped junk food for a whole month! this should have been easy as pie. i could do this. but as the days have slowly ticked by (slowly, i repeat), it has become a different beast. it has become a vacation into my childhood, prior to my family’s spiral into secularity. it was telling my boyfriend how i used to call gefilte fish “dirty fish”, a story that’s probably never been repeated to anyone outside of my extended family. it has re-educated me in one of the many subjects i knew more about as an 8 year old girl than a 24 year old woman. it has sent me up to devon in search of kosher for passover cake mixes. my passover hasn't been perfect. everything i have eaten has not been marked with a kosher for passover "P" or its ridiculously high price tag (ten bucks for some cookies!), but i have followed the basics as well as i can. i have done a whole lot of box-flipping and ingredients-checking. a lot of sighing and placing food back on the shelf. i didn't sell or trash my chometz (i'm not made of money, you know), but i did put it on a reeeally high shelf in the cupboard. to be serious here for a moment, friends, deep down, i admit it: it has reconnected me with... me. whether that is judaism or faith or just nostalgia, i don't really know. i might not believe in god, but i do believe in thousands of years of history, culture and gut-wrenching oppression. i do believe in my relatives killed in the holocaust and stories about my mom going to crystal lake as a little girl and not being able to get a doctor to do a housecall when she or her brothers got sick because it was a jewish household. and i do know that i don't regret doing this. i do know that i would like to do it again next year. i do know that even though i am not a terribly observant jew (... sorry), i am a rather proud jew. and hopefully next year i will even be able to find a seder to attend.
don't get me wrong. i am already planning my post-passover chometz fest and it is going to be fucking fantastic. things i wouldn't even eat normally have been invading my thoughts. taco bell commercials are alluring and dunkin donuts look delicious. this afternoon, i swear to g, i smelled food in the staples office supply megamart while i was searching for 31-tab dividers. I have a bag full of easter candy in my bottom desk drawer given to me by my bunny-celebrating friends. i am glad that this holiday, like all things, shall pass. by this time next week, i will be eating heavily discounted jelly beans with the sort of glee i haven't felt since i was a teenager.
this year, i also ate gefilte fish. whitefish-pike, how i've missed thee! next year in jerusalem.
4.08.2009
its electric.
as winter is winding down and i am feeling the first glimmerings of a little spring fever, i am considering cutting back on the amount of television i watch.
this seems like a silly statement. dude, i don't even have cable. who "thinks about" cutting back on the amount of tv they watch? either do it or don't. if you like watching tv, why would you stop? if you don't like watching it in the first place, who cares if you watch less? yeah. well, the truth is that i "think about" doing things more often than normal people.
me and tv go way back. we used to watch tv while we ate dinner when i was a kid. our basement rec room was the site of secretive beavis & butthead viewings with my older sister. after school i would bound down the stairs to catch the end of ninja turtles. tiny toon adventures would follow and then maybe beetlejuice before i went outside to play till dusk. sick days were television days where my mom would call once in a while to make sure we were still alive and drinking orange juice. summers were spent hanging out on my parents bed watching nick junior and i love lucy reruns and eating canned ravioli. memories! i would peel back and detach the flat layer, eat that, carefully scoop out the brown beef product inside, eat that, then eat the molded shell. i don't know why. i had, and still have, very delicate and intricate ways that i prefer to eat some foods. i'm pretty sure that's a red flag for obsessive-compulsive behavior, but what the hey? that's a whole different issue. this is about my television watching.
i turn on the news first thing in the morning and listen to it as i get ready for work. it keeps me from falling back to sleep and makes me feel like i can actually communicate with people. when i get home i flip it on and watch while i eat dinner. then it usually stays on for the rest of the evening, background noise as i do other things. sometimes i fall asleep with it on, the timer set to turn off 40 minutes later. this is something i have always found comforting and relaxing. on the weekends there is nothing good on since i don't have cable, so the network viewing is less, but the watching of tv or movies in dvd form is greater. the boyfriend and i recently got hooked on a certain television series that i will not divulge here for fear of life ruiners who like to spoil things for everyone. some people listen to music all the time. some people waste all day and night on the internet. i watch television. i like it. i love it. i want some more of it.
and look dude, its not like i'm watching dancing with the stars. i watch informative (read: low budget) things on public television stations. since i can't afford the time or money to get the fuck out of here, travel shows can showcase what i'm missing. when cable is available, who doesn't like getting lost on the history or discovery channel for a few hours? the food network is always there for a snack, and i can change the channel when that dude from diners drive ins and dives comes on my screen. and sunday night noir on MEtv is the bomb. there is also a certain comraderie in frequent television watchers that i really love. there are few things more friendship and relationship building than the ability to bond over obscure television references. there are few things more disappointing than a reference gone undetected. there are those who can't date outside their musical genre. i can see where they are coming from.
so why cut back, right? well, in a way, its peer pressure. in another way, its an opportunity for personal growth.
watching tv allows for nothing else to really be done at the same time, save for running to the bathroom during commercial breaks. so no reading is done, no writing completed. dishes stay dirty, rooms stay messy, and phone calls are not returned. i pick up no new skills. my boyfriend actually hates watching television, which presents a problem. i feel a little tinge of guilt every time i turn on the tv while he's trying to sleep while i get ready for work. i feel a little tinge of guilt pretty much every time i turn it on in his presence, actually.
so i guess that's it. its mostly the mourning of things i could be doing instead.
so what to do, what to do? its hard to go cold turkey on such a huge part of your free time. hard to give up one hobby without having another to fill the void. wintertime thwarts most attempts at getting out of the house and there aren't many free things to do when you have to stay indoors. summer is coming though, and maybe i won't feel like such a fat, lazy shit when i'm able to get out of the house on the weekends. get out for a nice bike ride around the city, stop by the beach for a little tanning action, maybe up the lake path, do some window shopping at places i can't afford on halsted, and then scoot on back here and relax in front of the tube. that makes it just one minor little thing in a list of several... and that means that ain't half bad. i planted a garden on my back deck. i've got beans and sugar snap peas growing back there like weeds. i'm offsetting my television carbon footprint. what more do you want from me?
this seems like a silly statement. dude, i don't even have cable. who "thinks about" cutting back on the amount of tv they watch? either do it or don't. if you like watching tv, why would you stop? if you don't like watching it in the first place, who cares if you watch less? yeah. well, the truth is that i "think about" doing things more often than normal people.
me and tv go way back. we used to watch tv while we ate dinner when i was a kid. our basement rec room was the site of secretive beavis & butthead viewings with my older sister. after school i would bound down the stairs to catch the end of ninja turtles. tiny toon adventures would follow and then maybe beetlejuice before i went outside to play till dusk. sick days were television days where my mom would call once in a while to make sure we were still alive and drinking orange juice. summers were spent hanging out on my parents bed watching nick junior and i love lucy reruns and eating canned ravioli. memories! i would peel back and detach the flat layer, eat that, carefully scoop out the brown beef product inside, eat that, then eat the molded shell. i don't know why. i had, and still have, very delicate and intricate ways that i prefer to eat some foods. i'm pretty sure that's a red flag for obsessive-compulsive behavior, but what the hey? that's a whole different issue. this is about my television watching.
i turn on the news first thing in the morning and listen to it as i get ready for work. it keeps me from falling back to sleep and makes me feel like i can actually communicate with people. when i get home i flip it on and watch while i eat dinner. then it usually stays on for the rest of the evening, background noise as i do other things. sometimes i fall asleep with it on, the timer set to turn off 40 minutes later. this is something i have always found comforting and relaxing. on the weekends there is nothing good on since i don't have cable, so the network viewing is less, but the watching of tv or movies in dvd form is greater. the boyfriend and i recently got hooked on a certain television series that i will not divulge here for fear of life ruiners who like to spoil things for everyone. some people listen to music all the time. some people waste all day and night on the internet. i watch television. i like it. i love it. i want some more of it.
and look dude, its not like i'm watching dancing with the stars. i watch informative (read: low budget) things on public television stations. since i can't afford the time or money to get the fuck out of here, travel shows can showcase what i'm missing. when cable is available, who doesn't like getting lost on the history or discovery channel for a few hours? the food network is always there for a snack, and i can change the channel when that dude from diners drive ins and dives comes on my screen. and sunday night noir on MEtv is the bomb. there is also a certain comraderie in frequent television watchers that i really love. there are few things more friendship and relationship building than the ability to bond over obscure television references. there are few things more disappointing than a reference gone undetected. there are those who can't date outside their musical genre. i can see where they are coming from.
so why cut back, right? well, in a way, its peer pressure. in another way, its an opportunity for personal growth.
watching tv allows for nothing else to really be done at the same time, save for running to the bathroom during commercial breaks. so no reading is done, no writing completed. dishes stay dirty, rooms stay messy, and phone calls are not returned. i pick up no new skills. my boyfriend actually hates watching television, which presents a problem. i feel a little tinge of guilt every time i turn on the tv while he's trying to sleep while i get ready for work. i feel a little tinge of guilt pretty much every time i turn it on in his presence, actually.
so i guess that's it. its mostly the mourning of things i could be doing instead.
so what to do, what to do? its hard to go cold turkey on such a huge part of your free time. hard to give up one hobby without having another to fill the void. wintertime thwarts most attempts at getting out of the house and there aren't many free things to do when you have to stay indoors. summer is coming though, and maybe i won't feel like such a fat, lazy shit when i'm able to get out of the house on the weekends. get out for a nice bike ride around the city, stop by the beach for a little tanning action, maybe up the lake path, do some window shopping at places i can't afford on halsted, and then scoot on back here and relax in front of the tube. that makes it just one minor little thing in a list of several... and that means that ain't half bad. i planted a garden on my back deck. i've got beans and sugar snap peas growing back there like weeds. i'm offsetting my television carbon footprint. what more do you want from me?
2.03.2009
the noothgrush on my toothbrush.
while brushing my teeth last night i came to a sudden, but not very surprising realization; a slight tingle that i've felt for years but for some reason never put into actual words until just that moment: i hate this. i hate dental hygiene. oh, i brush my teeth, but i do it for only two reasons: fear and social obligation.
like all good irrational aversions, my distaste for dental care started early in life. i assume that all kids hated going to the dentist. mine really wasn't a bad guy, he had clouds painted on the ceiling and all sorts of cutesy posters. they had disney movies playing in the waiting room. he had a gentle voice and i was never afraid of him personally. what i was afraid of was what he represented. the dentist meant rubber gloves in my mouth and the pick pick scrape scrape of the metal hook and tiny mirror. he meant chalky paste applied with a whirring rubber-tipped instrument that leaked into the back of my throat and made me gag. i maintain even now that i don't want or need anything in my mouth that has to be plugged into the wall socket. my dentist appointment meant chewing up plaque candy and being held accountable for my poor brushing skills. good lord, look at the amount of pink crap on that girl's teeth, she must be a bad kid. it meant another oral battle with my nemesis, a little metal/plastic combo doo-dad that sucked all of the water from my mouth while the dentist did his dirty work - a demon my dentist (and probably every cutesy kid dentist worldwide) called "mr. thirsty." mr. thirsty had a nasty habit of grabbing onto the underside of my tongue and sucking my entire face into itself at lightning speed. at the time, it made me cry. mr. thirsty was an asshole.
and going to the dentist meant fear. that primal fear of dr. so-and-so clicking his teeth, sighing, and announcing that yes, you have a cavity. and no, we can't pretend i don't see it. you've really dropped the ball on this one.
i was not an easy patient to deal with, i suspect. i always needed my mother in the room with me and i always cried through the whole shebang. as i got older, the crying stopped but the anxiety didn't. i began to ask questions. what does that do? what will that do? when does this kick in? how does this work? i don't know if it was intended to soothe my distress or an attempt at distracting my doctor. maybe she will forget to do the pick scrape if i can engage her in a conversation about the history of toothpaste.
as an adult, i have wrestled with my phobias. while i know that good dental hygiene is important to general health in a multitude of ways, i still put off appointments as long as possible. i'm so so so busy, i can't possibly fit in a trip all the way to the dentist. sometimes at night i tell myself i am too tired to get up and brush my teeth before drifting off to sleep. one night won't make a difference, geez. i am a sneaky seven year old trying to fool my own conscience. in the end, visions of my own toothless grin dance like sugarplums and scare me enough to get me out of bed and into the bathroom, staring at myself in disgust, dimly lit as i foam at the mouth. brush brush spit. i hate this.
but i keep doing it. my grandmother had dentures and seeing her sans teeth always freaked me out. i spent a few summers at my grandparents' house in peoria where i attended classes at a gifted kids program at bradley university (yes, i went to summer school every year. because i wanted to. what a total nerd. that is a different entry.). every night after my bath i would see her little pink plastic snap-enclosed box and wonder what her dentures actually looked like outside of her mouth, but i could never bring myself to look inside. to this day i'm glad i didn't. my grandma was an amazing woman, and her pink and white rubberized smile floating around in a little tub isn't a memory i need to cherish.
no electric toothbrush excitement will assuage this (electric toothbrushes fall under my "plugged into a wall" rule), so just know that i'll never be someone who enjoys the sport of tooth brushing, but i will continue to do it. simply add it to the list of other weird things that i don't enjoy but engage in regularly: putting on lotion, blow drying my hair, washing my face, and brushing's evil half-brother, flossing. i do it for you. i do it for society. i do it for fear. i do it so i get to pick a new toothbrush out every few months. i'm thinking purple for the next one.
like all good irrational aversions, my distaste for dental care started early in life. i assume that all kids hated going to the dentist. mine really wasn't a bad guy, he had clouds painted on the ceiling and all sorts of cutesy posters. they had disney movies playing in the waiting room. he had a gentle voice and i was never afraid of him personally. what i was afraid of was what he represented. the dentist meant rubber gloves in my mouth and the pick pick scrape scrape of the metal hook and tiny mirror. he meant chalky paste applied with a whirring rubber-tipped instrument that leaked into the back of my throat and made me gag. i maintain even now that i don't want or need anything in my mouth that has to be plugged into the wall socket. my dentist appointment meant chewing up plaque candy and being held accountable for my poor brushing skills. good lord, look at the amount of pink crap on that girl's teeth, she must be a bad kid. it meant another oral battle with my nemesis, a little metal/plastic combo doo-dad that sucked all of the water from my mouth while the dentist did his dirty work - a demon my dentist (and probably every cutesy kid dentist worldwide) called "mr. thirsty." mr. thirsty had a nasty habit of grabbing onto the underside of my tongue and sucking my entire face into itself at lightning speed. at the time, it made me cry. mr. thirsty was an asshole.
and going to the dentist meant fear. that primal fear of dr. so-and-so clicking his teeth, sighing, and announcing that yes, you have a cavity. and no, we can't pretend i don't see it. you've really dropped the ball on this one.
i was not an easy patient to deal with, i suspect. i always needed my mother in the room with me and i always cried through the whole shebang. as i got older, the crying stopped but the anxiety didn't. i began to ask questions. what does that do? what will that do? when does this kick in? how does this work? i don't know if it was intended to soothe my distress or an attempt at distracting my doctor. maybe she will forget to do the pick scrape if i can engage her in a conversation about the history of toothpaste.
as an adult, i have wrestled with my phobias. while i know that good dental hygiene is important to general health in a multitude of ways, i still put off appointments as long as possible. i'm so so so busy, i can't possibly fit in a trip all the way to the dentist. sometimes at night i tell myself i am too tired to get up and brush my teeth before drifting off to sleep. one night won't make a difference, geez. i am a sneaky seven year old trying to fool my own conscience. in the end, visions of my own toothless grin dance like sugarplums and scare me enough to get me out of bed and into the bathroom, staring at myself in disgust, dimly lit as i foam at the mouth. brush brush spit. i hate this.
but i keep doing it. my grandmother had dentures and seeing her sans teeth always freaked me out. i spent a few summers at my grandparents' house in peoria where i attended classes at a gifted kids program at bradley university (yes, i went to summer school every year. because i wanted to. what a total nerd. that is a different entry.). every night after my bath i would see her little pink plastic snap-enclosed box and wonder what her dentures actually looked like outside of her mouth, but i could never bring myself to look inside. to this day i'm glad i didn't. my grandma was an amazing woman, and her pink and white rubberized smile floating around in a little tub isn't a memory i need to cherish.
no electric toothbrush excitement will assuage this (electric toothbrushes fall under my "plugged into a wall" rule), so just know that i'll never be someone who enjoys the sport of tooth brushing, but i will continue to do it. simply add it to the list of other weird things that i don't enjoy but engage in regularly: putting on lotion, blow drying my hair, washing my face, and brushing's evil half-brother, flossing. i do it for you. i do it for society. i do it for fear. i do it so i get to pick a new toothbrush out every few months. i'm thinking purple for the next one.
2.02.2009
debt alive.
did you hear the news? this country is in an economic crisis. let's all freak out because the banks are going under and the car companies are going under and starbucks had to sell its private jet. not the jet!
to be honest, the entire implosion of the economy has had absolutely no impact on me. i am simply an observer. i have no stocks or bonds, i have no 401k or similar important retirement-related savings dependant on the market, and i'm not currently trying to buy or sell a house, car, boat, or thankfully, a private jet (i hear the market is terrible). luckily, i am still plunking my keyboard every day at a job that produces nothing tangible or useful but considers me enough of an asset to keep me around. the trains still run and the grocery store still has food and i'm still going to florida at the end of this month for a much needed vacation.
i read again this morning that americans need to spend money in order to get us out of this mess. spending money got us into this mess. money is the root of all evil and everything that is good. when we get back up and running, then we all need to save our money. and in those banks, not in coffee cans on the top shelf of the cupboard. don't take the money out of circulation, just let it sit there for a little bit and rest. stop spending at just the right moment or we blow it. once we get our balls out of the sand, we need to hit the showers. ohhh, but not for too long or we'll ruin things again.
how confused is everyone now?
what weighs on me far more, what scares me, what has frozen me into inaction and rotated me into a routine, what has been making me feel helpless isn't what some greedy suits straight out of 1985 have been doing with their money. its what i've done with mine. what i do know about, my friends, is debt. i also keep reading articles about how americans have no idea how to save money. part of me says "yeah, that's because we're a bunch of boners", and the other part of me says "yeah, that's because they're a bunch of boners". i am an american. i have a job and income and i spend money and i contribute to the economy as much as the next dude. well, maybe not as much... and maybe that is the root of my ambivalence.
yes, i will admit it: i am a fucking cheapskate. even as a child i would hoard my income. when a crisp new twenty came in at the holidays, the money from my birthday was often still tucked in my mom's top right corner drawer. i had a "penny collection" that eventually expanded to any change i found anywhere at any time. i started my first of many crappy jobs at 15 and saved a little nest egg before heading off to college where i spent all of it in my first year and returned to part-time food-related income. i don't make a ton of money now by any means, especially for living in the third largest city in the country, but my expenses are covered and i usually have some paltry amount to put away into my trusty savings account to pay off my debt. there are always and will always be certain occasions that i live paycheck to paycheck. i am generous to the amount i am able to be. i live within my means because i don't understand why people live outside their means.
listen dude, i work. i have always worked. i have worked at crappy jobs (lots of them) and decent jobs (not very many). i have supported myself on $8/hr as an adult in chicago. i've had multiple crappy jobs at one time to pay them bills. i don't believe that anyone is "too good" for a job and honestly it pisses me off when i hear it from my friends or from anyone, really. someone needs to clean the grease trap. we all have respect for ourselves and no one dreams about emptying the trash at your office on the weekends. it all needs to be done and there is a paycheck in it for completion. isn't that sense of entitlement what got us into this mess?
what enrages me most, i think, are all of the ads i'm seeing on trains and busses and television claiming that we all deserve to be debt free. taking advantage of those who are in desperate situations, or worse, those who just think they are. smiling face, bright white, straight as an arrow teeth, perfect skin, nicely dressed. i wanna be on one of those posters! trade in your credit, integrity, pride and self-sufficiency and be debt freeeee! i would love to. i am working my ass off to be debt free. but do i deserve to be debt free? no. not at all. i earned this debt fair and square. going to college isn't a requirement or a right. i made the choice to take out loans to go to college right after high school. i could have gone to community college or worked to save enough money to go without loans. sure, it would have put off my higher education by several years, but i will be paying student debt for several years, so really what's the difference?
that said, the only debt i have is student debt. as i wrote in an entry about credit cards probably a year ago, i have one credit card to my name. it is a red plastic card from chase bank and i don't even know what brand it is. maybe a mastercard. not using it is a conscious choice. i could have nicer things if i wanted to go into more debt for them. i did a detailed cost-benefit analysis and decided hell no. it is incredibly frustrating to be in debt, but i am committed to paying off mine as soon as possible. i'm a cheap piece of crap because i'm twenty thousand dollars in debt. there, i said it.
so maybe not me, since i've always been self-deprecating anyway. what about you? does everyone else deserve to be debt free? nah. probably not. for every one person in debt from an unexpected loss of income or huge catastrophe (and for that, i feel for you and wish there was something that could be done to ease the situation), there are ten who are in debt from buying a new tv and blueray player on their best buy credit card. so does it all come down to materialism? that frightens me. you can't take that shit with you when you die, but you can pass your debt onto your loved ones, who will then be doubly hurting. you earned your debt just like i did. get your head out of your ass and pay it off. getting out is a long, slow process for most of us, but it is a process. i've been doing this for 2 years already. but i'm learning. i'm reading. i'm... well, i'm trying to understand what was until recently a bunch of gobbledegook punctuated with question marks and dollar signs. there are a lot of people and places that are willing to help you if you don't know what to do. ones that won't take advantage of you. there's no shortcut. there's no gastric bypass surgery for your finances.
and don't do it again, ya heard?
i'll make a facebook event for it. guests welcome and its BYOB (bring your own bills... god i'm hilarious.). there will be honey barbeque fritos and sour cream and cheddar baked lays. i'll even make peanut butter chip pumpkin oatmeal cookies (they don't have crumbs! its magical). let's do it together.
to be honest, the entire implosion of the economy has had absolutely no impact on me. i am simply an observer. i have no stocks or bonds, i have no 401k or similar important retirement-related savings dependant on the market, and i'm not currently trying to buy or sell a house, car, boat, or thankfully, a private jet (i hear the market is terrible). luckily, i am still plunking my keyboard every day at a job that produces nothing tangible or useful but considers me enough of an asset to keep me around. the trains still run and the grocery store still has food and i'm still going to florida at the end of this month for a much needed vacation.
i read again this morning that americans need to spend money in order to get us out of this mess. spending money got us into this mess. money is the root of all evil and everything that is good. when we get back up and running, then we all need to save our money. and in those banks, not in coffee cans on the top shelf of the cupboard. don't take the money out of circulation, just let it sit there for a little bit and rest. stop spending at just the right moment or we blow it. once we get our balls out of the sand, we need to hit the showers. ohhh, but not for too long or we'll ruin things again.
how confused is everyone now?
what weighs on me far more, what scares me, what has frozen me into inaction and rotated me into a routine, what has been making me feel helpless isn't what some greedy suits straight out of 1985 have been doing with their money. its what i've done with mine. what i do know about, my friends, is debt. i also keep reading articles about how americans have no idea how to save money. part of me says "yeah, that's because we're a bunch of boners", and the other part of me says "yeah, that's because they're a bunch of boners". i am an american. i have a job and income and i spend money and i contribute to the economy as much as the next dude. well, maybe not as much... and maybe that is the root of my ambivalence.
yes, i will admit it: i am a fucking cheapskate. even as a child i would hoard my income. when a crisp new twenty came in at the holidays, the money from my birthday was often still tucked in my mom's top right corner drawer. i had a "penny collection" that eventually expanded to any change i found anywhere at any time. i started my first of many crappy jobs at 15 and saved a little nest egg before heading off to college where i spent all of it in my first year and returned to part-time food-related income. i don't make a ton of money now by any means, especially for living in the third largest city in the country, but my expenses are covered and i usually have some paltry amount to put away into my trusty savings account to pay off my debt. there are always and will always be certain occasions that i live paycheck to paycheck. i am generous to the amount i am able to be. i live within my means because i don't understand why people live outside their means.
listen dude, i work. i have always worked. i have worked at crappy jobs (lots of them) and decent jobs (not very many). i have supported myself on $8/hr as an adult in chicago. i've had multiple crappy jobs at one time to pay them bills. i don't believe that anyone is "too good" for a job and honestly it pisses me off when i hear it from my friends or from anyone, really. someone needs to clean the grease trap. we all have respect for ourselves and no one dreams about emptying the trash at your office on the weekends. it all needs to be done and there is a paycheck in it for completion. isn't that sense of entitlement what got us into this mess?
what enrages me most, i think, are all of the ads i'm seeing on trains and busses and television claiming that we all deserve to be debt free. taking advantage of those who are in desperate situations, or worse, those who just think they are. smiling face, bright white, straight as an arrow teeth, perfect skin, nicely dressed. i wanna be on one of those posters! trade in your credit, integrity, pride and self-sufficiency and be debt freeeee! i would love to. i am working my ass off to be debt free. but do i deserve to be debt free? no. not at all. i earned this debt fair and square. going to college isn't a requirement or a right. i made the choice to take out loans to go to college right after high school. i could have gone to community college or worked to save enough money to go without loans. sure, it would have put off my higher education by several years, but i will be paying student debt for several years, so really what's the difference?
that said, the only debt i have is student debt. as i wrote in an entry about credit cards probably a year ago, i have one credit card to my name. it is a red plastic card from chase bank and i don't even know what brand it is. maybe a mastercard. not using it is a conscious choice. i could have nicer things if i wanted to go into more debt for them. i did a detailed cost-benefit analysis and decided hell no. it is incredibly frustrating to be in debt, but i am committed to paying off mine as soon as possible. i'm a cheap piece of crap because i'm twenty thousand dollars in debt. there, i said it.
so maybe not me, since i've always been self-deprecating anyway. what about you? does everyone else deserve to be debt free? nah. probably not. for every one person in debt from an unexpected loss of income or huge catastrophe (and for that, i feel for you and wish there was something that could be done to ease the situation), there are ten who are in debt from buying a new tv and blueray player on their best buy credit card. so does it all come down to materialism? that frightens me. you can't take that shit with you when you die, but you can pass your debt onto your loved ones, who will then be doubly hurting. you earned your debt just like i did. get your head out of your ass and pay it off. getting out is a long, slow process for most of us, but it is a process. i've been doing this for 2 years already. but i'm learning. i'm reading. i'm... well, i'm trying to understand what was until recently a bunch of gobbledegook punctuated with question marks and dollar signs. there are a lot of people and places that are willing to help you if you don't know what to do. ones that won't take advantage of you. there's no shortcut. there's no gastric bypass surgery for your finances.
and don't do it again, ya heard?
i'll make a facebook event for it. guests welcome and its BYOB (bring your own bills... god i'm hilarious.). there will be honey barbeque fritos and sour cream and cheddar baked lays. i'll even make peanut butter chip pumpkin oatmeal cookies (they don't have crumbs! its magical). let's do it together.
1.24.2009
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