and so it goes

I haven’t written a blog post in about a month (actually, that’s a lie. I wrote one and wordpress deleted it before it was published it and I was too irritated to rewrite it…) and have written a grand total of three posts since April. Usually, I would offer some kind of apology and a promise to be more diligent in the future. I’m not feeling that today. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about unproductive emotions and I’ve realized that my self-imposed guilt is one thing that needs to go. So no guilt, just an update about how I’ve lived my life outside of the internet realm.

Something slightly less than employment

I spent most of April and all of May putting in some major hours at work. That’s the old news. The new news is that my company informed me in mid-June that they’ve decided to close down their Denver branch. When people ask me how I’m doing, my automatic response is usually along the lines of “it took me a bit to get over the shock, but now I’m fine.” This is partially a lie. I am fine, but the shock still hits me every morning on the way into work. It has largely turned from a self-centered “I can’t believe they dropped me the day after we finished our project, of which I poured heart and soul and about 500 of hours into” to “I can’t believe how incredibly gracious, composed, and wonderful my co-workers have been throughout this process.” By comparison, I have it easy. I have no family to take care of, I have no major fixed expenses (this is one of the few times in life one can feel smug about their decision to live at home… :) , entry level jobs are still an option for me, and I’ve only been with the company for 10 months as opposed to 20+ years. I still have moments when I get a little indignant, but it’s now on behalf of other people who deserved better. But deserve is another one of those unproductive emotions because it’s a perspective that’s rarely reciprocated.

And while I am excited to try something new, I am terribly overwhelmed by the prospect of job hunting. I’m looking forward to finding a job I am more passionate about and preferably an employer that is not so exacting in its required hours. I still have a month or so to figure out what I’m doing next. There is some fear. There is frustration – I hate doing things on other people’s terms, and it turns out leaving a company is no exception. There is relief and a sense of possibility. Above all, there is change. And no matter what I feel or want, it is this that I’ve come to accept. Everything else will come with time.

Family Vacation

I had already planned a vacation for the week of the 4th of July and it seemed the trip would be a much-needed escape from ‘reality.’ I was fortunate enough to spend a fantastic week clearing my head and remembering what’s supposed to be important. Things like sunrises, the ocean lapping at your feet, sandcastles, family dinners, and a kayaking misadventure that will certainly become our family’s epic vacation story for years to come. Being in love with life, drinking in the scenery, and spending time with the people you love – why was I excluding these things from my daily version of ‘reality’? I realized that ever since college graduation, I have associated ‘the real world’ with drudgery. How sad is that? I think this is the very definition of an unproductive emotion, or at least an unproductive perspective. I refuse to accept that my life will be long, draining days, and I’m changing my reality. I am looking forward to a real world full of happiness, love, and daily adventures.

Best of all, I got to feel my first little niece kick. If that doesn’t put things in perspective, I don’t know what does.

sunrise

the greatest

The guy who picked me up from morning kindergarten and would agree to walk home really fast so I could watch the second half of Sesame Street while we ate lunch. The guy who sat through years of hot stuffy gymnastics meets with a camcorder. The guy who took me to the Ninja Turtles Movie and let me sit in the front row of an empty theater. The guy who did hundreds of ‘underducks’ on the swings at the park. The guy (the over six foot guy) who hid behind a foot and a half tall shoe rack to win at hide and seek. The guy who taught me the rules to all the major sports while we sat snuggled on the couch watching games. The guy who would always read movie introductions and subtitles out loud just to make sure everyone could keep up. The guy who survived my middle school eye-rolling stage. The guy who waited for me in the rain outside the main office to pick me up from my first school dance. The guy who kept his cool after I ran into the garage three times during high school. The guy who always slipped me a twenty when he came to visit me at school and told me to get a treat on him. The guy who welcomed me back home after college and doesn’t complain that I still haven’t left.

The guy who has a birthday tomorrow.

Love you, Dad!

March Madness Self-Observations

  1. Highlighting and crossing out my bracket is one of the best parts of the whole tournament.  Even for the online pools, I write out my bracket so I can cross things off.  (I should physically write out my to-do lists more often, I think.  I’m pretty sure I’d get more done.)
  2. When I don’t know who to pick, I choose the team who’s name is either shortest or easiest to abbreviate so my handwritten bracket can stay neat.  This is my entire motivation behind Drake’s win over Western Kentucky.  I briefly considered a Georgetown loss to UMBC.
  3. Despite this philosophy, I am convinced I have picked a winning bracket.  (I think this every year.)
  4. Somehow I have been unconsiously indoctrinated in bracketology while growing up.  After having filled out our brackets separately and with minimal NCAA discussion, my dad and I had picked not only the same winner out of 64 teams, but also the same final two teams as well as the same final four.
  5. More evidence of #3: the only year I’ve ever picked the winning team was my freshman year of college.  However, even then I didn’t win my family pool because my sister in Connecticut and my dad at home had also picked UConn to take it all.  (We seriously don’t discuss our brackets beforehand, I promise…) It was a hollow victory.
  6. If I’m right about #3, then I think I might be bound for a #5 repeat… Either that or we’re all going down together.

I’m a little late blogging this, but

I’M AN AUNT!

Okay, not quite. I guess it’s not officially until October 1st (or there about). I’ve already started shopping for baby clothes (as such, I really hope it’s a girl because the girl clothes are much much cuter) and I think I will put in a strong showing for “Favorite Aunt” despite the disadvantage of distance. I am very excited about this development – I think I’m going to be very good at this. (:

I foresee a lot of trips out east coming my way soon!

when did that happen?

I’m not sure at what point I turned into my dad, but somewhere along the line I have picked up the habit of compulsively saving the Ziploc sandwich bags from my lunches at work so I can bring them home, wash them out, and reuse them. Growing up, I swore that “if I have to wash another Ziploc bag, I’m going to <insert some nebulous overly-dramatic teenage threat>!!!” Now it pains me to throw them away.

I am puzzled by this turn of events.

Haircut Optimization

Email from me to my mom, earlier this week:

I’m getting my haircut today after work. Want to hear some of my ideas about the whole thing? Yes? Oh good.

Years of experience has shown that the amount of times between haircuts for me is fairly constant, meaning that time has demonstrated that good haircut or bad, too short and hard to deal with or too long and annoying, I still only get it cut about twice, maybe three times a year. So I spend a little while loving my haircut, most of my time tolerating it, and some time hating it.

So if you think of your optimal hair length as a bell curve, the perfect haircut would be at the top, the tolerating would be one standard deviation out, the hating another deviation after that, and then just disgusting would be the tails.

Thus this begs the question: why do I get my hair cut to the optimal length?! If I consistently wait about a deviation and a half to cut my hair, why do I cut it so that I’m guaranteed to spend time in the “hating deviation.” Logic says that I should cut it too short so that I can spend all of my time in the “tolerating deviations” that surround the optimal length.

Now I recognize that maybe there is a flaw. Maybe too short hair is less tolerable than too long hair? But what is the ratio of irritation? I don’t know. But I’m hypothesizing that as long as the too short still fits in a ponytail that the difference is minimal. Let’s say it’s twice as irritating. In which case I should get my haircut maybe a half deviation below optimal to try to keep my level of satisfaction relatively consistent on both sides of the perfect haircut.

My Mom’s response:

Just another thought — more frequent haircuts? It really is a rather pleasant experience, especially if you see Michael….

Me:

More frequent??? Pish posh. That just seems like a waste of money when you can get effective results with some statistical reasoning…

Mom:

It may not be a bell curve. Given the fact that your haircut schedule is a rare event and unpredictable, we may be Poisson territory here. So think about that. And if it is bell, narrowing the interval with more frequent cuts is reasonable.

Conclusions:

  1. Isn’t my mom awesome?! Seroiusly, throwing out Poisson distributions…it still makes me ridiculously happy. Yay for statistics!
  2. I am a nerd.  (the apple didn’t fall far from the tree?)
  3. I hate doing my hair.

It turns out that I decided to chop it all off, not so much of statistics but because I feel like I’ve had the same haircut for about 5 years and I wanted a change. It doesn’t fit in a ponytail anymore and I am STRUGGLING. But I do like it a lot, even if I now have to blowdry every day.

cowabunga

When I was in kindergarten, my dad took me to go see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in the movie theaters for my birthday.  We went in the afternoon after school and I remember being so excited the whole car ride there because HELLO! the half hour tv shows were the best and how could an entire movie NOT be even more awesome?!  However, the rest of the people in our immediate vicinity did not seem to share that excitement because we were some of the only people in the whole place (I believe there were about three girls in the back, if my memory serves me correctly.)  Basically, we had our pick of seats and somehow my 5-year old self was convinced that the best thing would be to sit right in the very front.  I mentioned this to my dad and he very sportingly agreed to watch the entire movie from the front row of a virtually empty movie theater.  For Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

To this day, it is one of my most vivid memories from that time in my life and one of the birthday presents that I remember the most.  I seriously thought it was the coolest thing.  Looking back, it was really just that I had the coolest dad.

(As a side note, I’m slightly worried about this movie karma I’ve created because I’m fairly certain I’m not going to be as amiable about it as my dad was…)

If I ever got a tattoo, it would say “Mom”

…or I also think that it would be very entertaining to get a tattoo of a squished bug on palm of my hand so that I could be sitting somewhere and randomly pretend to start swatting for gnats and see if anyone around me freaks out when I show them my success… (Mom. Dead bug. Either/Or. It’s a tough call.)

Just kidding. Hey Mom! Happy birthday! I love you tons and I’m so glad you’re part of (and by ‘part of’ I mean ‘the cause of’) my life. You are wonderful! Yay you!

mom likes me best

Do you remember when you were a kid and your parents would go on a date and leave you with a babysitter? Despite the fact that both my parents worked, that was always a tramatic experience. Even when they picked babysitters I liked. Why? Because it was hard to imagine that Mom and Dad wanted to do something that didn’t involve me. I could not fathom what they could possibly be doing that was more fun than hanging out with me.

Now that I’m older, I have a better idea as to why they maybe didn’t want to constantly hang out at home with a 5 year old (adorable though I was) and at least “some” concept of what it is that they might have been doing without me. And I feel a little guilty for all those impositions.

So thanks for putting up with all those Saturday mornings when I climbed in bed with you to “fix your hair” by adding as many barrettes as possible when I’m sure all you wanted was for me to go back to sleep. And sorry for all the date nights that resulted in waterworks on my part. Mom and Dad, this one’s for you.

the way it could be…

6 (66) reasons why it categorically sucks to share a bathroom

with your 10 year old brother

The Way It Should Be

  1. Aiming issues. Have you ever seen Gung Hu with Michael Keaton? He has a line that goes something along lines of, “Come to the game. We get drunk and then pee for distance.” The boss responds, “Uh, we pee for accuracy.” Man, I wish brothers were more like bosses.
  2. Toilet seat mechanics. Now, the problem here is not leaving the seat up. I’m not one to get upset about that, because if boys can be expected to lift the seat then I should also be expected to be able to move it back into position. The issue is the non-movement of the seat in conjunction with problems concerning the above mentioned #1.
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