This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums that were in 
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving 
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.
        

When D I first started dating, before we started sleeping together, I went to the local Planned Parenthood to get a birth control prescription and a fresh round of STD tests. When I went back to get my HIV test results* D drove me to the clinic and waited outside in the car.**

I had to wait a long time before the nurse called me back to give me my results and I remember being worried that D would think I had gotten bad news or that something was wrong. When I finally got my results (negative!) and went back out to the car I found him, seat reclining, writing the entirety of this poem to me via text.

*They had to give it to me in person, I'm not sure if that is still the case
**I'm not sure why he waited in the car but it must have been my choice, because I didn't (and don't) think it was a weird thing for him to do. Important information: I was not concerned that I had HIV (besides the low-grade what if terror that I think we all have) so neither one us was stressed about the results being bad. 
*** This is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams
****Image: Plums by Pierre Antoine Poiteau

One Bitter Cookie (or: Random Fault Post)

From Not So Humble Pie

The trait I hate most about myself - a trait that has reared its head once again today - is that I have a hard time not being bitter about other people's success. Wait, let me say this honestly - I am bitter about other people's success.

Let's say a nice couple about my age on House Hunters is looking for a $450,000 house and has a $80,000 down payment. I immediately pick them apart - who are they to have so much money? What the fuck kinds of jobs do they have, anyway? They don't seem smart or interesting. Maybe their fucking parents gave it to them.

Or maybe I'm reading a list of bios of people in my career field. I pick out the person with the fellowships, accolades, publications, etc. Or the one with the Ivy League pedigree. "What an asshole," my bitter self mutters, without me being able to control it.

The worst: one of my dearest, oldest* friends gets some very good news about a project she has been working on. Instead of being happy I am filled with anger. All I can think is reasons why she doesn't deserve it, or how unfair it is, or how upset it will make people who have worked harder for similar things, or how easy her life is. How hard I work and how little it is appreciated. I mean - this is one of my best friends.

Let's not even talk about wedding blogs.

What is this? What, do I think that I deserve more than everyone else in the world? Do I, in my heart of hearts, really think that I am that much better than everyone around me? Am I just insecure?

It's like I turn the successes of others into my own personal failures - like everything someone else gets or does is something I feel like I should have been doing or getting. Either I beat myself up for not being better (not going to an Ivy League, not having a PhD, not being a paid blogger or mandolin aficionado) or I create a list of reasons why my super unfair life and that persons super fucking unfairly easy life are conspiring against me. And I don't even want to go to an Ivy League or get a PhD.


I'd like to say that this only harms me - that the worst it does is makes me bitter and unhappy - but it harms the people around me, too. How would my friend feel if she heard me say those things? Why should that poor fellowship-winning person get 'tude from me? I am putting unfair negative energy out into the world, and that isn't good for anyone. Luckily I don't really do this to D,  but if we're being honest that is probably because any success he has will directly benefit me. Jesus Christ, that sounds so bad.

I'm trying really hard to be better, but its been really difficult so far. Bitterness is a hard habit to break.

All suggestions welcome.




*oldest as in been my friend for the longest. Not as as in elderly. 

16 tons

I went to get a massage this weekend (a gift from my step-mom who is a magical human being). The masseuse is a friend of my sister and since I felt weird about being nekkid around a friend-of-a-friend I asked her to concentrate on my head and shoulders, since that is where I hold my stress. About halfway through the massage I mentioned off-hand, "Oh yea - I think I clench my teeth pretty badly at night, so it might be good to massage my jaw a little."

That was it for the rest of the massage.

Before I left the masseuse told me that my jaw is in pretty bad shape. The instant she tried to massage it it clenched up insanely tight. This could be linked to my headaches and shoulder aches, not to mention the jaw-popping sounds.

What, me, stress?

*p.s. I really, really don't want to get a night mouth guard. I have no need to be that unsexy or to be reminded on a daily basis of how horribly the inside of my mouth actually smells. The masseuse say she can do a few sessions of jaw massage and that might help. Frankly, laying in a quiet room and having someone rub my face sounds a LOT better than making D$ sleep with the worlds weakest hockey player every night. Opinions? 
**Diamond Skill from Damien Hirst

I don't even LIKE that song

I'm on my own for the weekend - D$ is driving up to Washington to see a friend and I elected to stay home. Although I didn't really mean for this to happen I have planned a very stereotypically "girly" Saturday: massage-getting, face-waxing and shopping.

But that isn't even the reason I am writing this post. Nope, I am writing this post to tell you how Katy Perry (who I sorta hate) transformed my evening.

The afternoon started like this: volunteered for a few hours, went to happy hour with a friend, had a glass of wine, no biggie. Friend and I part ways and I'm feeling good but fairly low-key. Then I get in the car and as I drive back across town to my house Teenage Dream comes on the radio. Instead of changing the station...I turn it up a little. Aaaaand then I turn it up a lot. Suddenly, boosted by the wine and the weekend ahead of me and the suddenly-catchy teenage joy of the song I am singing at the top of my lungs and shaking my ass in the seat. When I have to stop at a light and pull up to another car I purse my lips and drums my hands while bursting with the desire to sing and shimmy and I will the light to change before the song ends. It doesn't, and the next song sucks, but the energetic mood sticks enough so that I appease myself with "Rocket Man" from the Oldies station until I get home. (Not the same vibe at all, but you can really belt out that chorus. Plus you can imagine Shatner's spoken word version, which makes the whole experience that much better).

I don't think I am ever happier than when I am car dancing alone. Here's to weekends by yourself when you need them, to tinted windows, and to pop music.*



*Shout out to the little lady I e-mailed today who once, with me and my sister, stopped the in the middle of nowhere simply to pump up the car volume and dance in the middle of the road.
**Amazing Cat GIF from Jezebel's Cat GIF Party

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

I think this might be the last time I apologize for my disappearances from the internet and the total irregularity of my posts. Let's face it: the only things I do regularly are eat, sleep, shit (thank GOD) and worry excessively. Love me, love my blog-slackerness.

Still, I figured I owe you at least a short list of reasons why my internet presence has been lamer than the GOP takeover (amiright?). So here you go:

1. My birthday.
2. My dad's birthday.
3. My best friend's birthday.
4. My best friend's mom's birthday. 
5. Halloween
6. These fucking guys. 

I've been watching a lot of basketball and going out to dinner more than is recommended by your average financial manager or dietician. I also went on the best overnight trip of my LIFE. 

In a nutshell - I've been living my life.  

I'll tell you all about it soon. For now...click on those links above to see the current men in my life. 

Love and alley-oops,

MWK

Images via NBA.com

Shhhhh

I'm not saying which one...but I might be in one of these photos.

p.s. Happy belated Halloween!

Slowly learning

The day before the housewarming party D and I had a huge fight. What started the fight was of course not really what the fight was about. At all. A small stupid incident set us both off and turned into a day-long battle - interspersed with us getting along for a few hours - that ended up with D storming out of the house and me furiously cleaning the bathroom while muttering to myself.

The fight was about money. Well, about how we treat each other about money. How my deep financial fears and penchant for projecting my insecurities onto him combine with his impatience and severe rationality to make us (mostly me) unable to make financial decisions without a lot of angst. Of course we didn't come to that nice conclusion right away. We had to endure lots of stupidity (on both our parts) before we got there.

The problems are many: First: numbers, to D$, are like the alphabet. Numbers, to me, are scary and make my brain turn off. Second: If I am going to make a decision I have to talk about it for a long time first.  I talk about is how the decision is making me feel - am I mad that I have to make the decision, what are my fears, etc. None of this is usually very logical but I have to get it out before I can make a rational decision. Example: when I needed to take out more student loans in order to pay off older and more expensive student loans, I spent several days saying, "I made pact to myself that I wouldn't take out any student loans for graduate school and so I don't want to take out any loans." I knew in the back of my head that it was stupid not to take out more loans - in fact I knew that I probably would take out more loans -  but the idea made me sick and upset and I had to talk about that before I could move on to the smart decision.

When D is faced with a decision he looks at the facts and decides. Done deal. So he thinks that all the talking I am doing is how I will make a choice -  that I will make a decision based purely on my emotions. During the student loan debacle he ran up some numbers for me (without walking me through it) and acted offended and contemptuous when I wouldn't readily admit that the loans were the best idea and go ahead with it. He thought I was going to refuse to take out loans, and end up spending more money in the long run, because I was upset at the ultimately meaningless act of taking out more loans.

Here is what happened (what happens): D$ feels like I don't trust him to look at the financial information and make the right choice even though crunching numbers is what he does all day long. I feel that D is treating me like I am stupid and is treating me as if I can't be trusted to make financial decisions. Massive hurt feelings ensue. It looks something like this:

MWK: This is how I feel

D$: These are the facts.

MWK: But this is how I feel.

D$: But there are the facts.

MWK: FEELINGS FEELINGS FEELINGS!

D$: FACTS FACTS FACTS!

Both: *#$@!*#@%!

After the last fight we were finally able to get to the bottom of some of this. I made D understand that my emotions are just as legitimate and necessary to me as his numbers. I think D understands that he needs to let me express my emotions and give me the time to emote without being impatient or treating me like a child. D$ told me how frustrated he gets when I won't listen to him on the numbers stuff and I understand now how hard it would be to have your wife doubt you on what is, to be sure, your greatest skill (that's math, folks. The man loves math).

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Last weekend, about a week after the party, we sat down to talk about money again and to make a budget. There were a few tense moments but mostly we were able to have a calm and civil conversation. We came to an understanding about our finances and how we want to handle them. It was by no means fun, but I am proud of us for getting through it.