Return of Saturn

Online dating...

2009-01-18T16:36:00.000-08:00

I have come up with a list of Dos and Don'ts when it comes to creating a profile for an online dating website:

Do not use ALL CAPS when you write your profile, or when you email me. Honestly, if you can't be bothered to extend your index finger to push the caps lock key, how can I trust that you will be able to extend your index finger when it comes to taking care of more important matters?

Do not type your profile like you're sending me a text message. It will make me not want to CU 2Nite or L8r.

There is a spell check built into Firefox--use it!

Do not post pictures of any of the following:

You wearing your hat sideways. It didn't look cool on Vanilla ice, and it definitely doesn't look cool on you.
You rubbing up against a fancy sports car or a giant truck. It's sad enough that you have a micro-penis without you having to announce it to the world.
You with a mustache. I have too many tickets to date a cop, and no desire to date a pornstar whose fame peaked the year I was born.
You surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad women. I do not wish to join your harem.
You posing in your bathroom mirror with no shirt on. Hell, even if you do have a shirt on...

I guess it's more list of don'ts, huh?

To Do List 2009 Edition

2008-12-31T20:59:00.000-08:00

Alright, here we go... in the spirit of David Letterman, I present my Top Ten list for 2009:

Stop self-sabotaging! When an opportunity presents itself, do not say "fuck you, opportunity!" by procrastinating, or doing other things that I know will result in bad-ness.
Finish last two classes and put forth a sincere effort to get into P.A. school. [Unnamed P.A. school] class of 2010, here I come!!
Run a mile without getting so winded that I am forced to stop after taking approx 15 steps.
Get my room into a state of presentability such that I do not become physically ill at the thought of someone seeing it.
Get all meds regulated so that I am once again of sound mind and body. Mostly so that I'm of sound mind.
Therapy, yo! All the cool kids are doing it.
Finances. Get them all squared away including paying back taxes (sorry, IRS) and tickets (sorry various law enforcement agencies). See how procrastination is bad? Yeah, me too.
Go diving at least once.
Date without fear.
Hell, while I'm at it, LIVE without fear.
I suppose living without fear should be better defined...but I'll know it when I see it!

Not as funny as Letterman's list, but certainly most beneficial to my existence.

With that, Happy New Year one and all!

Suspension Without Suspense

2008-12-21T21:40:00.001-08:00

Another year is almost over. Ten more days and it will be 2009. And then, 365 opportunities will have passed. Again.

I often think about where I could be, where I want to be. It's not here. It's funny because I truly, wholly, completely, 100% believe that we are responsible for our own happiness and for getting where we want to be. So, why the hell am I here?

Even though it's so cliche, I think I will post a list of resolutions. No, a list of goals for 2009. Maybe then I will feel slightly accountable to the people in the blogosphere and actually accomplish them?

I'm Baa-aack!

2007-11-11T00:37:00.000-08:00

So, clearly it's been a while since I've been here. I've been mulling over ideas for this blog recently, trying to come up with something other than whining about the sad state of my life to post about.
I was at Barnes and Noble today and I came across the book You Can Do It! by Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. Former Girl Scouts will be familiar with its concept. Essentially, it is a merit badge handbook for grown-up girls.

I thought it would be fun to post about earning various "badges" as I earn them, and perhaps I can encourage others to play along at home.

I'll Stick to Dollar Bills

2006-09-23T22:49:00.000-07:00

So, while perusing the ol' 'Net today, I came across this article. For those of you too lazy to click, I'll summarize for ya.

A doctor was recently busted for giving the hand of a cadaver to a stripper. WTF?! Apparently he crossed paths with the not-yet-dissected cadaver while in med school, and decided to procure the hand. And passed it on to a stripper? For a tip? How well does a severed hand fit into a g-string? It seems cumbersome...

I like to think that the story went down like this: This poor dude was slaving away in his first year of med school, and he decides to head to a strip club after a rough histology test. He gazes at Linda Kay--surely not her stage name! We'll call her..Luscious Linda--across the dimly lit, smoke filled room. The bass is thumping loudly, even the ice cubes in his drink are moving. He moves closer to the stage as Luscious Linda slowly slides down the pole. She slithers across the stage, over to him, and he stuffs a few bucks down her g-string. She moves even closer and presses her breasts against his face. He is elated. He has not known such joy since beginning medical school 10 months earlier. He reaches into his pocket for a few more dollars, and realizes, to his horror, his pocket is empty. So, to show his appreciation for Ms. Kay, err.. Luscious Linda he reaches into his other pocket, and withdraws the hand of a kindly old woman. With a wink and a smarmy grin, proceeds to stuff said hand into the g-string of Luscious Linda.

Not such great press for the University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey! The strip club patron in question could face up to 10 years in prison. Wow, that's a stiff penalty (heh).

I've thought about donating my corpse to a med school--it just may be the only way I end up there! I don't think I'd really mind if I knew this fate would eventually befall my hand. I mean, I don't need it anymore, and if it makes a stripper happy...

And That's Why I'm (Still) Single

2006-09-23T21:47:00.000-07:00

Ah, here it is... Another beautiful Saturday night here in Saturnville. It's still warm enough to be comfortable in a T-shirt and shorts once the sun goes down. The sky is clear (well, as clear as it can be when you live in the bustling smogtropolis that is Saturnville) and the stars are all twinkly. You might be wondering how a young and I've been told, attractive, single girl is spending the evening. You may suspect that I will be getting all sexed up to spend the evening at some cosmopolotin hot spot, chatting the night away with the beautiful people of this fair city. Or, perhaps I will be making my rounds at a party, getting to know all of the eligible single men in the room. Or will it be a girls' night out, a night spent laughing, drinking, and dancing?

No, actually, it's none of the above. I am sequestered here in my house and I'm watching Charlie's Angels...sigh. I kinda want to be a risk-taking super hero.

Never Forget

2006-09-10T22:04:00.000-07:00

Thomas J. Cahill was a 36-year-old securities trader who was working for Cantor Fitzgerald on September 11, 2001.

When I first sat down to write this blog, I thought about the best way to share who Thomas Cahill was. I began listing facts that I'd come across: He was a natural born athlete. He traveled near and far to enjoy his favorite sports including tennis, cycling, baseball, skiing, golf, and fishing. He loved life. He was kind hearted and giving. He loved his family and friends. He had a wicked sense of humor. He enjoyed having a cold beer and a cigar.

As I read the comments about Tom here, I began to get a picture of who he was. He was larger than life, and he left a positive mark on all he met. How many of us can really say that we love life? I mean, really love life on a day-to-day basis? In a New York Times tribute, his mother, Kathleen, shared that Tom really did love life and that though he was only here for a short time, he packed a lot of living into those 36 years.

I have quickly decided that Tom is someone that I wish I had gotten the opportunity to know. It seems as though he was the type of person that you not only wanted to be around, but also wanted to be like. I feel honored to be able to remember Thomas J. Cahill today.

No matter what I write here, I do not feel like I can pay tribute like Thomas, and all the others who lost their lives, deserve. So, as my way of paying tribute, I want to make the most sincere effort to be the sort of person that Tom was: To love life. It is so easy to get caught up in the trivialities we encounter. Traffic, rude people, the long line at Starbucks, getting cut off, etc. But, those things are all life. Embrace them! Take a different route to avoid the traffic, go to a small coffee house, forgive the person who cuts you off. It is difficult, but I am going to make a sincere effort to try. I didn't even know Tom, but it looks like he's touched my life as well.

Truth or Dare

2006-09-01T23:33:00.000-07:00

I don't remember the first time it happened. When I think back to my childhood, it feels like it was always a part of my life like breakfast, Christmas, and the dentist. And the secret shame I carried around was always there, too. Always feeling like a too-heavy backpack weighing on my shoulders. Except that unlike my backpack, it didn't come off when I got home from school.

When I think back to it, there are bits and pieces I remember. It is like a patchwork quilt sloppily sewn together in shapes of different sizes, textures, and smells. I remember a tall brown dresser with a small black and white TV on top, the rabbit ears reaching tall toward the ceiling. I remember the Atari system on the floor and the Star Wars sheets on the bed.

He was my cousin. He was 5 years older than me and he was oh-so-cool. I remember in the beginning, it started off as a game. Along with Atari, Monopoly, and Hide-N-Go-Seek, we played Truth or Dare.

The last time anything happened, I was 14; a Freshman in high school. It was Christmas and as was tradition, we'd finished opening all of our gifts shortly after breakfast. The family was mingling about already preparing for dinner, tinkering with new gifts, napping in the Lazy Boy... My younger brother had received a dart board for Christmas and my cousin suggested we set it up. The three of us went into his room, and found a spot for it on the wall. We began by taking turns throwing the darts. My brother, who did not really enjoy anything physical, quickly tired of the game and went to watch TV leaving me alone with my cousin.

I carefully aimed my last dart, squinting to line it up with the bull's eye, and threw it. I watched it fall to the floor, and as I bent over to pick it up, I felt his hand on me. I froze. I didn't know what to say. I stood up straight and just looked at him. He didn't speak either, instead he grabbed me and pulled me close to him his hands squeezing my butt. I pulled away and backed up a couple of steps, but I still did not leave the room.

He began cleaning up his room, dusting his dresser, adjusting the picture of his girlfriend, straightening his bedspread. And then he spoke, "Remember what we used to do when we were younger? I want to do it again. C'mon. If I stand here," he motioned to the door, "you can suck me off, and I'll be able to hear anyone coming." When I was younger, I never stopped it. I knew I had to stop it now. I finally spoke, "[cousin's name], we can't. It's not a good idea. What if we get caught? I could get pregnant..." He wasn't swayed. "Don't worry. I have condoms." I wouldn't be swayed, either. I didn't care if he was upset with me. My legs felt like jelly as I made an excuse and left his room.

Later, in the afternoon, my mom called me into the kitchen where cousin and aunt were also standing. I felt my face go red and hot. Had he told them? Was I in trouble? Did they know? "Honey, will you help [cousin's name]? He has to go pick some things up at the print shop for work." I had no idea what to say. I was sure they could see my heart beating through my sweater. I remember feeling like I had no choice. I'm a horrible liar, and I couldn't think of anything to say.

We set off in his powder blue volkswagen bug. I sat in silence staring out the window, my arms hugged close to my belly. The streets were void of any activity, and I wondered if the printers' office would even be open. I didn't feel scared, just uncomfortable. We drove in silence until arriving at Poor Richard's Press. I waited in the car, and he returned with several boxes. He explained that he had to drop them off at the college bookstore where he worked. When we arrived at the school, he asked if I would mind helping him carry the boxes. I took one, and followed him inside. He led me to the back office where he stacked the boxes. He motioned to the desk and said, "There's no one here. I brought condoms."

My heart sped up again. It suddenly dawned on me how isolated we were. The silence was deafening. I could hear my heart in my head. I was suddenly afraid. Would he use force as he had once before? "We've been gone a while. They're going to wonder what's taking us so long." What could I do? Run? No, that would be too much to explain to Family. "We can do it right here on this desk." I felt sick.

"No, you're my cousin. You have a girlfriend. We've been gone too long. It's almost time for dinner." He sighed and eventually gave up. It felt like we'd been in the office for hours even though it was probably a matter of minutes. Once again, we drove in silence.

I don't know why I was so afraid to simply say NO! To this day, when I find myself in situations with guys, and things are moving too quickly, I freeze. I don't know what to say.

I will save the second, and most painful part of this story for another post.

Plankton

2006-06-10T05:11:00.000-07:00

I've always been the sort of person to just go after what I wanted. I was the first girl in my high school to participate in a male-dominated sport. The first girl in my CIF division, even! I scored the opportunity to co-host a popular radio show in a major market with my favorite radio personality. (Even if it was for just one night!) When I became interested in a guy, I asked him out. And, I didn't let the fact that he was a real-live rock-n-roll star stop me. I became a vet-tech and was assisting with surgeries before I was 18. If there was something I wanted, I figured that with enough heart, persistence, and determination, I'd get it.

Then, something happened. In my second year of college I found myself in need of a job. Attempting to be somewhat pragmatic, I decided I'd look in my future career field so that I could gain some experience along the way. The only problem was: I wasn't sure what my future career field was. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up. Rather, I did know, but it suddenly seemed incredibly impractical. I'd always had a passion for medicine, whether it involved people or animals. But, while I enjoyed--and even excelled at--science, I lacked the confidence to get there. So, that's when I found myself floating along like plankton in the ocean.

Through the job line at my university, I found a job in [unnamed helping profession.] (Thanks, Feral Mom) The job entailed working with kids, which I not only loved, but was skilled at. This led to my finally declaring a major: psychology. A field I had never intended to study. I graduated college with a whole lot of luck. There were many lectures I never attended, many chapters I never read, and many projects that I didn't start until the last minute. "D means degreee!" I would chant to my friends.

It's been nearly 10 years since I checked that box to declare my major. I stayed in [unnamed helping profession] (thanks, Feral Mom) And even got a masters in the field, thanks to an opportunity presented to me at work. Well, I would have if I would have turned in the paperwork. For all intents and purposes, except the ones that matter, I have an M.S. [in field related to unnamed helping profession.]

I'm so dissatisfied with where I'm at, and I believe it's because for the last ten years, I've been floating along like plankton. Everything that I've achieved has been an opportunity that floated past me. It wasn't necessarily anything that I dreamt about, nothing I was passionate about. It was just something to do. I needed a job in college, I needed a major, I needed a job after college... Oh, a master's? Well, I guess I might as well...

Part II later.

Vine Ripened

2006-06-07T03:21:00.000-07:00

For the last two nights I've woken up at 3am. With a craving. For tomatoes. So, in case anyone else is having similar issues I suggest the following: Grab one medium sized tomato of the variety of your choosing, cut into 1/8ths, sprinkle with a healthy amount of Lawry's Season Salt, and enjoy.

With that, it's back to sleep.

Cathartic

2006-06-06T23:24:00.001-07:00

I'm starting to feel like Forrest Gump.

After I got home from work, I got dinner. But, before I ate, I went to the gym. Yep, that's day number 4! I forgot how much I love that sore feeling. It's a constant reminder of how much I'm challenging myself, and how much I'm actually rising to the challenge. I spent time on the treadmill as well since I've only got 12 days until the 5K. I hate the treadmill; cardio at the gym is so boring.

On the way home, I started to think about an ongoing situation involving an ex-boyfriend. (I, of course, will blog about this another day.) Initially, I was angry. And, as I was driving--sunroof open, radio on, music loud(ish)--I started to feel sad. Then, my eyes watered. As soon as the first tear popped out of my lacrimal duct, and slowly pooled in my eye, until it slid down my cheek, I just lost it. There was something about the way it felt. A tear so out of place on my cheek with the warm night and the loud(ish) music. The more I thought, the more it hurt and the more I cried. So, in the spirit of Forrest Gump, "I decided to go for a little run."

People are right about running. It does make you feel better. Suddenly, I realized I wasn't crying anymore. I was focusing on the feel of the mist on my face; thinking about how there's nothing like being alone, outside in the dark; meditating on my breath and the rhythm of my shoes on the concrete. I decided that the reason running works so well to make me feel better is that it's an incompatible response. Physiologically, it's really difficult to inhale enough air to remain upright when one's nose is filled with crying-induced snot. So, in order to avoid passing out, it's best to just quit thinking about stupid ex-boyfriends and run, Forrest, run!

The Wave of the Future?

2006-06-05T16:26:00.000-07:00

How precious is this face? So, it looks like I really have no excuse not to keep this blog up as this message is being sent from my cell phone to my blog via Mobile Blogger.

Scary!

The Starting Line

2006-06-05T10:19:00.000-07:00

OK, so this blogging thing isn't getting off to a great start considering it's been a month since I last posted. I read so many wonderful, funny, insightful blogs and I always think, "Hmm...I wish I could be that [insert adjective here]" So, instead of being so damn critical, I've decided I need to just write for me.

Starting in February, I found myself in this funk. No, that's too mild of a term. Without meaning to sound dramatic, it was more like a crushing, soul melting, depression. Something I've never experienced before, and never want to experience again. After a few months of messing around with meds--which is a whole 'nother frustrating situation I'll blog about another time--I feel like I'm finally starting to come out of it.

I used to work out several times a week. I was feeling pretty good. Then, when this funk-like thing hit, that stopped. Saturday, I forced myself to go to the gym though. This started the ball rolling! (Treadmill?) Sunday, I went for a 13 mile bike ride, stopped off at the gym, and then rode home. Today, after reading DoctorMama's blog, I went for a run, came home and signed up for a 5K.

Now, this 5K thing probably doesn't seem like a big deal to most runners. I mean, pshh...it's 3 miles! Well, I'm the girl who used to ask for the bathroom everyday during P.E. so I didn't have to run. And when the coach caught onto that, I'd just sneak away from the group. In junior high, I took the F for the 15 minute mile. When my parents forced me to play soccer, I was the goalie, and I insisted I had much more important goalie-girl things to be doing while the rest of the team ran during practice. So, the fact that I've signed up to run. Voluntarily. No one chasing me with a sharp object even. Well, I'm pretty damn proud of myself!

Saturn Return

2006-05-03T18:01:00.000-07:00

Lately I've spent a lot of time reading the blogs of others. Many that I've come across mention that the reason for beginning to blog is a need to vent and learn more about one's self. And, that is also why I'm here.

I am just another twenty-something who is rapidly aproaching thrity and dealing with all that enatils. Astrologers refer to this time in one's life as the saturn return. That, and the No Doubt album of the same name are why I chose to title my blog "Return of Saturn."