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I stole this from Miss Zoot. It requires no tagging or being tagged. Enjoy!
The Meme of Us
How long have you been together? Well, I suppose that depends. I wasn’t aware that we were dating until my friend Jenn told me so. Apparently, Jas had told her a couple days after our first kiss that we’d started dating, but he’d never said anything about it to me. We decided our official date of being "together" would be September 10, 2000. It’s been 7.5 years so far.
How long did you date? We got married June 18, 2005, so we were dating almost 5 years before the wedding. (We would have been married on September 10, 2005, as it was a Saturday that year, but the place we wanted the wedding was booked. Dammit.)
How old is he? He just turned 30 February 13th. So him!
Who eats more? Jas does. The man can pack away food like no one I’ve ever met.
Who said ‘i love you’ first? He did. I was too nervous, as we hadn’t been dating very long when I realized I did love him.
Who is taller? He is 9" taller than me, but his jeans are only 3" longer than mine. Go legs!
Who is smarter? Again, that depends. He is much book smarter than I am (as you can tell by my grammar), but I am much better with logic puzzles and common sense type smarts. It irritates him that I scored MUCH better on the LSAT practice exams, and yet he has better grades than I do.
Who does the laundry? Both of us. Laundry is constantly going in our apartment. The washer is TINY, so we can’t do a lot at a time. He does his own laundry, and I do mine plus the linens usually.
Who does the dishes? Huge bone of contention here. I shall skip this one.
Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? If you’re standing at the foot board looking at the pillows, then Jas sleeps on the right. It used to be reversed, but I hate cold air being blown on me, so we switched in the summer when the A/C was on all the time. I want to switch back, since he sleeps on his right, thereby snoring directly into my ear.
Who pays the bills? I do. He pays insurance. I pay everything else.
Who mows the lawn? We have no lawn. He cleans off Mia’s porch more often than I do, even though it’s supposed to be my job.
Who cooks dinner? We don’t often eat together, and even when we do, we usually make our own food. I’ve tried cooking for both of us more recently, but stopped due to the aforementioned dishes issue.
Who is more stubborn? We’re both pretty stubborn, but I’m more open about my stubbornness. Jas likes to think he’s pretty easy going. He can be, but when his mind is made up about something, trying to change it is like moving a concrete block with a toothpick.
Who kissed who first? He kissed me first. I’d gone over to his new place to help him unpack, and we ended up watching Anaconda with Jennifer Lopez. As the credits rolled, I turned to tell him I was going home, and he kissed me! Shocked the heck out of me.
Who asked who out? Well, since he started telling people we were going out before he bothered to tell me, I’m going to say he asked me out.
Who proposed? Jas did. My favorite holiday is the 4th of July, so he took me to see the fireworks at Anaheim Stadium. Except the place we watched them from was right UNDER the fireworks. Ashes and embers rained down on us the entire time. He decided that wasn’t the ideal proposal situation, so he drove me down to the beach where we first really spent time together (before we’d even started dating) and proposed. I still say he proposed on the 4th, but since it was 12:05AM on the 5th, he tells everyone he proposed on the 5th.
Who is more sensitive? Me. Hands down, no contest.
Who has more friends? What a strange question. Well, I’d say he does, if we’re counting actual real life face-to-face people. He’s very social and can talk with anyone about anything for hours. I, however, am very anti-social. I am not comfortable in large groups, even if it’s people I know. If, however, we are counting friends that include online people, I have far more than he does. He doesn’t believe you can be friends with someone you’ve never met face-to-face. His loss!
Yesterday was the very last time I had to be at UCLA for testing before the Big Show on the 19th. Kelly and I had to be there at 7am to get blood drawn, so we drove up there Sunday night and got a hotel room. At 6:15 Monday morning the alarm went off and we both glared at it. We shuffled off to the hospital and finally got to the lab about 7:10. They made us wait almost an hour to get blood drawn, and then we were sent upstairs to meet with the nephrologists who will be doing our surgery. We both met with her surgeon, who looked like a nerdy version of Bob Saget. He didn’t really have much to say to me, since I’m not his patient. Then we met with the director of the transplant program. The best thing I can say about him is that he could use a little lesson in tact.
Now, I might come off as a bit of a hypocrite here, as I’ve had my tactless moments, but I can honestly say that 99% of the time I DO make an effort to exercise tact when I speak, even if I don’t when I think. The director was looking over my charts, noted my height and weight, and asked me if I’d lost any weight since the last time I was there. I answered honestly, no, but I have lost inches. He says to me "Well, you’re a little bit of a fat girl, and <something about losing weight>" I was so shocked that I missed the second half of the sentence. Look, I’m overweight. I’ve openly admitted that from the beginning. But where the hell does he get off telling me I’m a "little bit of a fat girl?" I really wanted to come back with "Well, my surgeon says I’m ‘skinny on the inside’, so fuck off," but I didn’t think that would go over well. The last thing I wanted was to have to go out to the waiting room and tell Kelly the surgery was off because I mouthed off to the transplant director. So I sat there cursing him in my head while he explained that he wants me to lose weight even after surgery because overweight people have a higher risk of kidney disease. Fine. That makes sense. But for pity’s sake, don’t call me fat.
It took me a while to get over that (and while writing this more than 36 hours later, it appears I’m not quite over it). I realize now that he probably (I hope) didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I told everyone at work about it, because I thought that if we joked about it, the hurt I felt would go away. Didn’t seem to work much. It shouldn’t bother me. I’m trying very hard not to let it bother me. But the guy just came right out and said I was fat. Jackass.
Someone being me saved the day and asked me to tell about why I chose my degree and if I use it for work. So yay! An informational post today!
When I first went to college right out of high school, I was majoring in Astronomy. I loved going star gazing, and was always out in the desert during meteor showers. I didn’t realize, however, that there was a lot more to Astronomy than looking at stars. I got a C in my first and only Astronomy class, and promptly changed my major back to Undecided. Since I didn’t want to be in college anyway, I sorta stopped going to class. San Diego State informed me that I was "academically disqualified," which was their polite way of saying I’d failed out of school. Yay me!
I went back to school a couple years later at the same community college that Jason was going to. I took a Psychology class as an elective, and loved it. I decided that I would change my major to Psychology, once I transferred to the University. I hadn’t yet started at my current job, and thought that I would like to be a Psychologist someday. The more psych classes I took, the more I liked the subject. When I transferred to Cal Poly Pomona, I kept Psychology as my major. I got about 75% of the way finished with my degree when I decided that I didn’t really like people much, and that I couldn’t sit in an office and listen to people whine about their problems. I mean, I don’t mind listening to my friends, and trying to help them figure out ways to solve their problems. But I can’t listen to someone come in time after time, and have them complain about the same problems, but then never do anything to solve them. At that point I was a little torn. I knew I’d never use the degree, because I loved my job and a Psychology degree wouldn’t do anything to help me. But on the other hand, I didn’t want to throw away all the work I’d done on the degree. The other problem I was having was getting the classes I needed to complete the degree. Cal Poly has an EXCELLENT selection of classes offered at night, for those students who work full time during the day. But there were two classes that weren’t offered any later than 4pm, and I needed classes that were offered at 6pm or later. I met with my advisor, and she told me that Cal Poly has a major called Behavioral Sciences, which is sort of a combination of Psychology and Sociology. The best part was that the two classes I was having trouble getting into were not required for the degree. I jumped at the chance, and immediately changed my major. A short year later, I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Behavioral Science, which I affectionately call my B.A. in B.S.
People always ask me if I’m going to use my degree for anything. I say it’s going to make a great dust collector on my wall once I put it up. It’ll be something to fall back on if I ever need it, but it’s not something I can use at work. Someday I might go back and get a degree in business or computers, but that’s a long long way off.
I suppose if I want to keep people reading this blog I should post more often than once a week. It drives me nuts when my favorite bloggers go more than a day without posting something new for me to read. And yet I find that I just don’t have that much to say lately. Nothing of interest to any of you, at least. I’m still going to the gym, still working out with my trainer, still frustrated about not losing weight. I’m still donating a kidney next month, still scared about doing it, still just wanting to get it over with. I could tell you about the stupids I encounter on the freeway everyday, but everyone has heard that one.
So, I’ll ask you all for some help. What do you want to know about me? Ask me questions either via e-mail or comments, and I’ll answer them in another post! Maybe one of them will inspire me to write something brilliant for you all.
When I started this blog, I decided that I was going to be as honest about my life as possible, but there were a few topics that were going to be off-limits. Work, for example, was something I’d decided not to talk about in specifics, since we have a fairly small office and any griping I did about coworkers would inevitably get back to them. I’m breaking my own rule today, because something wonderful has happened, and I want to share it with you all.
A few weeks ago I was told that I was going to be part of a 3 day Dale Carnegie class that the bosses were sending all our sales reps to. I looked up the class on the Dale Carnegie website, and interpreted it as an Attitude Adjustment Seminar. I was really pissed that they thought I needed an attitude adjustment. (Of course my first reaction should have been perfect evidence as to WHY I was needing an attitude adjustment, but I didn’t see it that way.) At the same time, they asked me to go to the management training seminar being held a couple weeks before the attitude adjustment class. I was boggled. They want me to get an attitude adjustment, and at the same time become management? Huh? It just made no sense to me.
So I went to the management training with 3 bosses and a sales rep. It was interesting, but a lot of what was covered pertained to someone who was actually in management, and I am not. It wasn’t the kind of training you take to be management. It’s more the kind of training you take to become better at what you already do. The class was being taught by Dale Carnegie students, who were studying to be trainers. It was a little rough, and they weren’t that great. But if you had to grade them on enthusiasm, they’d all get A’s. Even if they weren’t the best presenters, they made up for it in being excited about the concepts. Overall, the class wasn’t all that grand, but I at least learned a little from it.
Based on that class, I wasn’t at all looking forward to the next seminar. Especially when I heard that we were going to have to stand up in front of the group and speak. I abhor public speaking. I’d rather ram needles under my fingernails than stand in front of people and speak. Plus, I had to be at work at 8am. Three days in a row. I’m lucky if I’m there by 9, so getting there at 8 was going to be a stretch. I was just OOZING with excitement about this course. No, really.
The course turned out to be one of the greatest things I’ve ever done. I learned different ways of speaking to people, how to listen better, how to remember things easily, and best of all, how to speak in front of people without freaking out. In addition, I learned a ton about the people I’ve been working with for 5+ years. There was lots of getting in front of the group and talking about something you’re passionate about, or acting out a commercial jingle, or telling about a memorable event in your life, but I did it! It sucked, and I hated every second of being up there. But I did it! I was so proud of myself for doing it with no little griping about it. The first time was rough. I felt queasy and shaky and I was sure I was bright red while I was talking. My hands were so shaky that I kept fidgeting with them to try and mask it. I know I talked too fast, but I wanted nothing more than to run back to my seat. By Friday I was much more comfortable. I still spent the whole time wringing my hands, but I didn’t feel flushed or shaky or queasy. I didn’t feel like I did a great job, but everyone else said they saw a huge improvement in my presentations. So either I’m getting better at presenting, or I’m getting better at hiding my fear. Either way works for me.
I’ve tried using the techniques that we learned in the seminar, and so far they’re working. I’m more productive, my personal and business relationships are better, and I’m feeling less stressed. If you ever have the opportunity to take a course of this kind, whether it be through Dale Carnegie, or any other company, I strongly suggest you check it out. It can’t hurt!
Holy cow! It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve posted. So much has happened in the last week, I’m not even sure where to begin. I suppose I should go chronologically.
Wednesday was Jason’s 30th birthday, so we tried to go to our favorite Italian place. The wait was over an hour. So we went down the street to the Cheesecake Factory. Same wait. On a Wednesday. Craziness! We finally ended up at BJ’s Restaurant & Brewery. They have Pizookies, which are the BEST DESSERT EVER! (Love you, Tessa). It turned out to be a nice dinner, even though I’d had a really long day, and my head was pounding. Jas has a tendency to try and be very tough and strong, and never admit that he has weaknesses. During dinner he admitted that getting older and hitting the big Three Oh was a little intimidating and scary to him. It was kind of sweet to see him actually act human. 
Jas doesn’t do Valentine’s Day. He never has, and I’m guessing never will. He tells me it’s a Hallmark holiday and totally sexist. If you love someone, I’m told, you should show them all year long, not just one specific day. That last part I can agree with. However, why can’t you show them all year long AND on Valentine’s Day? Wouldn’t that make everyone happy? So I went to dinner with some of my coworkers, and we had a very good time. Of course, we had to go to 4 different restaurants before we could get a table. And where does a restaurant get off charging $85 for a 3 course meal that would cost $24 any other night of the year? That sickened me.
When Jas got home from school that night, I talked him into going to BJ’s (yes, again) so I could have another Pizookie. There didn’t seem to be a lot of couples in the restaurant that night, but I did notice lots of large groups (8+) all eating together. And they sure looked like they were having a lot more fun than the couples did. Perhaps they’ve found the secret to enjoying Valentine’s day. Don’t just celebrate with the one special person you love, celebrate with everyone you love! I’m thinking I might try that strategy next year. Just invite everyone I know out to dinner and have a blast, instead of moping about the fact that my husband is anti-valentine’s day. Yes! That is my plan!
Friday night was pretty exciting! Jas subbed for one of the guys on my bowling team. The first game he shot 298! For those of you who don’t know bowling, a perfect game (all strikes) is a 300. Jas had the first 11 strikes, and then left 2 pins on the last ball. It sucked that he just missed the perfect game, but it was still awesome that he did what he did. I think I was more nervous than he was. I could hardly look every time he was up. On th last ball I was hiding behind my friend Jenn, because I was too scared to watch. I didn’t even see the ball hit, I just heard everyone else’s reaction. But I was super proud of him, even if it wasn’t perfect!
In addition to all those fun things, I had a 3 day training course at work, that turned out to be one of the best things I’ve ever done. It also left me freaking exhausted every day after work. I can’t wait to tell you all about it, but my pizza has just arrived and it is calling my name! Until later then!
Last April, after my original testing for donation, I had a very strange dream. I dreamt that I was in surgery, but the doctors had made a mistake. Instead of taking my kidney, they took my left lung. And instead of closing me up, they left a big gaping hole in my back that just oozed blood everywhere. It left a very scary visual in my head, but the concept was hilarious to me. It looked a little bit like a cannon ball had been shot into my back, and I just never noticed. I’m not entirely sure why that was funny, but it cracked me up.
That dream came back last night, only this time it wasn’t so funny. This time it included pain and screaming, and doctors laughing at me. I jolted awake and had a really rough time falling back asleep. I think I’m more scared of this donation that I’m admitting. Which is doubly frightening, since I thought I was being pretty forthcoming about how terrified I am. Obviously, my subconscious feels differently. It’s ok to be scared. I know that. I’m not ashamed of being scared at all. I just wish I could be scared and not have nightmares about it. Or that I could find a healthy way to express my fear, rather than internalizing it and having it show up in nightmares. Apparently, blogging and/or talking about it isn’t helping, like I thought it would.
I know there have been some new readers to this blog lately, so I’m wondering if any of you (or any of my regulars. I still love you!) have donated an organ, or know someone who donated. How did you/they handle the fear? How did family and friends feel about the donation? If you feel uncomfortable posting a comment for all the world to see, please feel free to e-mail me privately at thedenora at gmail dot com.
LL tagged me for a meme again, which is perfect since I’m having writers block! Have I mentioned how much I love her?
THE RULES:
** Post about the meme and link back to the person that tagged you.
** Go back to your archives and link to your five favorite posts.
Link One: must be about family
Link Two: must be about friends
Link Three: must be about yourself
Link Four: must be about something you love
Link Five: can be anything you choose
** Tag five other people (at least two must be new acquaintances so that you can get to know them better).
Family: Ok so my post about family would be this one, although it’s not the most flattering familial post ever. But honesty is the best policy, and all that jazz. A post about my immediate family would be “Baby Babbling,” though that’s more wishful family thinking. (And you’ll all pretend that you didn’t notice I’m cheating with more than one pick. Now you’re accomplices to my cheating!)
Friends: “Ashamed” is probably my most heartfelt post on this blog. And if you’d like some lighter reading, try this one, coincidently entitled “Friends.”
Me: The post about myself is hard, because I talk about me all the time. I’ll go with “And so it begins…” for now, just because people seem to think it’s interesting. I’ll also throw in “Just One Person” since it’s a follow up, and was probably the hardest post for me to write (other than the aforementioned Baby Babbling).
Things I Love: I love lots of things, but it seems like I never blog about them. So I shall make a commitment to whine less and blog about things I love more. “Obsession: How I love thee” is a small look into my head. “Happy New Year!” has a lot of things I love, like friends, food, and theater.
Random: Hmm, anything I choose. Well, this one is good as a snippet of things about me, for new readers (also my first and only other meme, compliments of the fabulous LL!). “Emotional Roller Coaster” explains my current tagline. And “The Denora: A History” is just one of my favorite posts I’ve written.
And now that I’ve cheated on every category, I decree the following people shall be tagged:
-NGS over at Neurotic Grad Student, because she’s hysterical, and I love reading what she writes. (Nevermind that she has a fiancee, school, and 3 jobs to juggle, and probably doesn’t need a blog assignment).
-Lisa at Dream for an Insomniac because she’s taking a writing class, so I’m SURE she needs yet another thing to write about
-Kate at Silly Little Girl because her style of writing is very much like my style of thinking. She just says it better. And she could probably use a distraction right about now.
-and now I’m out of people to tag, because Someone being me already tagged LL, who in turn tagged me. So if you’re new here Hi! You’ve been tagged!
I am a bad person. I am a bad evil person who (if I wasn’t atheist) is on a fast track to hell. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and sometimes other bystanders find these bad things hilarious. I’m not saying any names, but there may or may not have been an incident at a gym somewhere, where a girl on a treadmill made a fantastically horrible stumbling bumbling trip and fall mess of herself. And while the aforementioned bystander stopped both their own, and the stumbler’s treadmills, and made sure the stumbler was ok, the bystander may or may not have caught a fit of giggles as the stumbler walked away (though she was able to maintain long enough for the stumbler to be out of earshot). In my the bystander’s defense, it was quite a mess. It wasn’t just a slip and fall. It was a good long 10 seconds of valiant effort to regain any control she might have had, followed by a faceplant in which she could have broken her nose. It was like a scene from a Jim Carrey movie, or America’s Funniest Home Videos. Lucky for her, she was all the way at the end of the row, and almost no one saw.
So, yeah. I’m a bad person. I laugh at other’s mishaps. Hell bound, and stuff. But points for honesty, right? And making sure she was ok? Please?
It’s 3am, and I can’t sleep. I know I fell asleep shortly after 1am, because Bull Durham had just come on TV, and Jas made a comment about it as I was drifting off. At 2:33, a large hand smacked down directly on my forehead and jarred me awake. This is not the first time this has happened to me, and let me assure you, it doesn’t get less frustrating as time goes on. I tried going back to sleep, but my brain is awake and feeling chatty. A swarm of random thoughts (turtles, dinos, and DUCKS, Allie!) are keeping me awake, and rather than lay in bed trying to get to sleep in my usual futile fashion, I thought I’d get some of it out here, and then go back to bed. (Keep the time in mind in case sentences make no sense)
March 19 is the date that has been set for the kidney donation surgery. That is 43 days from today (I only waited about 37 seconds after I had the date to whip out a calendar and count). I had been eagerly looking forward to receiving a date, so I could schedule my life around it. I now wish I didn’t have a date yet. From the moment Kelly called me to tell me when we’re scheduled, I’ve had a pit in my stomach. I am scared to death. I was pretty scared before, but was able to calmly and logically remind myself that the positives largely outweigh the negatives, and that I’d be fine. Calm and logic have now left the building. I am terrified, and can’t seem to talk myself down from the ledge. Before it was just “Oh I have surgery sometime in March.” Now there’s a specific date and time and it’s all very very real. When I first posted about donating, I was very very hard on “Lisa” and how she handled backing out of the surgery. I still think how she went about it was really wrong (a voicemail? are you serious?), but I’m becoming much more understanding of why she did it. I remember being a little upset at a commenter who suggested forgiveness might be something to keep in mind. How could I forgive someone who did that to my friend? Now I have a little more perspective, and I think the commenter was right. Lisa didn’t have the support system that I have, as her family was very vocal about their opposition to her decision. That can’t have been easy for her. Add to that the enormity of this decision, and all the emotions that come along for the ride. At the time, all I could see was how she had hurt Kelly, and I reacted without considering how she must have felt. So I apologize for the not-so-nice way I responded to that commenter in my head. I didn’t really mean what I thought (be glad you weren’t privy to it), and thank you for making me think about my reaction now. It’s 2 months later, but better late than never, right?
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