(this is the part wherein I pretend I've not been silent for nearly a month after a rant)
You know what I thought I was past? Dating. Dating you say? What happened to PC you say?
PC and I are fine. We're really fine. Admittedly some bumps along the way due to the utter upheaval of our lives to move across the country and away from everything we know...add to that the joy of him getting laid off last month and the stressors (financial and mental) that go along with that.
But aside from that, we're really quite good.
So, back to the dating? I've discovered the next closest thing to hell after dating. It's called "Couple dating".
My God kill me the hell now! It's like regular dating, but actually worse. Who knew there could be something worse?
Ah yes, as if it was not hard enough to find one person you're willing to spend time with on a regular basis. Now trying to find 4 people (i.e., two couples) that all get along. Because, there's nothing quite as tough as finding a single friend and then feeling guilty that you're dragging along your significant other.*
P.s., We're sucking at couple dating.
Date 1: I'm friends with this girl at work. I really like her. Her husband is in a field kind of, but not totally, related to PC's. Work Friend and husband live within a mile of us, which is a completely walking city. We live near lots of cool restaurants. We accidentally run into Work Friend and her husband at a sports bar, get invited to join them at their table, and find all sorts of things in common. PC and I are completely 'in crush' with this couple. They suggest we get together another time, we agree, and then silence. I see Work Friend almost daily, I have suggested a couple things to do together...but nothing.
It's just like that amazing date you go on where you're pretty sure you've met the person you're going to marry...and then they never call you again and you have NO CLUE why.
Date 2: We attend this couple meetup. No, not that kind of meetup. A meetup wherein several couples got together (all of us strangers to each other) for a pot luck dinner and board games. Personally, I hate board games and pot luck almost never works out. But alas. We go. Neither of us excited, but like regular dating we know if you don't show up, you're not going to meet anyone.
Everyone pretty much sucks for one reason or another. The main reasons being we're the oldest by a good 5 years (which are apparently an important 5 years) and somehow the most educated (probably because the 5 years in age difference were spent in grad school...but I digress). Which, don't get me wrong, it's not that we're snobby about our degrees so much as we're in careers and worrying about things like taxes and mortgages and student loans and these people are just out of college and moving out of their parents houses for the first time.
With that in mind. One of the couples, we're kind of drawn to. They're the closest to our age, they're on the verge of buying a house, and they seem to have some sort of career objective. And, they think we're funny. And, they like to go to nice restaurants.
They offer to drive us home since we'd taken the metro there (blush) and on the way home they suggest we get together for dinner the following weekend.
Email exchanges between the two females of the couples...it's set. We meet there, though they offer to pick us up. You know how you don't want to risk taking one car if the date doesn't go well...
Dinner was good. Conversation was awkward. We decided they're too vanilla. I don't know exactly what that means, but basically, we're kinda eh about them. We all ended the night saying we should do this again sometime...but none of us have called.
Yeah, just like dating. I HATE dating.
* Not because I feel bad for the single person per se but rather I feel like a schmuck that I can't drag myself away from my significant other.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
Price of a dream job
You know what's hard?
Telling the person you love who's on this side of being layed off to take a job (should it be offered) that on the outside is known to suck, have high turnover, and involve a lot of travel. Oh, and it doesn't pay well and there's no chance of promotion.
If you knew what I did for a living, you'd know why this is especially hard for me to say to someone.
But the trade off is it's in the same type of organization as mine that offers job security nearly for life, is low pressure usually, and is a stepping stone to other positions in the same type of organization.
In the meantime, having had a job I hated for nearly two years to gain the same stepping stone opportunities that PC will gain from this position, I dread dread dread watching him suffer through it. I suppose it is the price you pay for the benefits. We just didn't think the price would continue to be so very high once we got our degrees. It seems we were sold a bill of goods about getting a PhD that it would be worth it on the other side, that it would open doors.
Who knew that opening doors doesn't mean that you want what's behind door number one. Sometimes, you have to open several doors successively to be able to get the dream vacation. Or, in this case, the dream job.
Telling the person you love who's on this side of being layed off to take a job (should it be offered) that on the outside is known to suck, have high turnover, and involve a lot of travel. Oh, and it doesn't pay well and there's no chance of promotion.
If you knew what I did for a living, you'd know why this is especially hard for me to say to someone.
But the trade off is it's in the same type of organization as mine that offers job security nearly for life, is low pressure usually, and is a stepping stone to other positions in the same type of organization.
In the meantime, having had a job I hated for nearly two years to gain the same stepping stone opportunities that PC will gain from this position, I dread dread dread watching him suffer through it. I suppose it is the price you pay for the benefits. We just didn't think the price would continue to be so very high once we got our degrees. It seems we were sold a bill of goods about getting a PhD that it would be worth it on the other side, that it would open doors.
Who knew that opening doors doesn't mean that you want what's behind door number one. Sometimes, you have to open several doors successively to be able to get the dream vacation. Or, in this case, the dream job.
Don't talk to strangers
Today is my mother's birthday. It will also be nearly 9 months since I last spoke to my mother, by choice. The child in my head knows that to not call might be about as awful as not returning her call for Christmas. And, that at some point I will receive the call in which my mother is no longer alive - whether for natural or unnatural reasons. And that child feels guilty and scared of being on the other side of her being gone and having never forgiven her.
The adult in my head knows I have spent my entire adulthood trying to find a way to be in a positive healthy relationship with her - some of my attempts have been better than others - and it has turned out to be impossible. Impossible because it hurts to see where she is in life, it hurts to say no when she asks for money, it hurts when she says hateful things, it hurts when she says nice things because you know they will be followed by mean things, it hurts when she takes credit for my successes. It hurts to watch someone self destruct and hope to god you don't follow that path.
Aside from the hurt is my disgust for her utter lack of concern for anyone or anything around her. It might be silly, but I'm pissed she doesn't pay her bills, doesn't pay taxes, and lives off of our government services. But you know what? I think even more than hurt and pissed, I'm embarrassed. Embarrassed that I am the daughter of someone who plays the system (and unfortunately is successful at it). This embarassment recently came to a head.
It was about 5 am on a weekday...only 30 minutes before I was scheduled to get up...when I got a knock on the door. It was my doorman. Very appologetically, he said he was very sorry to disturb me at this hour but that there was someone downstairs who was here to reposess my car.
At 5 am, awoken from a dead sleep, I will admit I wasn't in my usual quick form. I repeatedly said "But I OWN my car". And then he said the two magic words.
My mother's name.
Having lived here for not even two months, most of the people I want to find me cannot. And so, I knew it was trouble. I immediately wondered if somehow my mother had put debt into my name or filed against my car. Though none of that makes sense, I cannot be held accountable for what happens at 5 am when your doorman says "Repossess."
The short of a long story is that it wasn't my car they were looking for, it was my mom's.* The Repo Man said words like "State police are on their way" and "The title of the car is in my name and whomever is found driving the car will be immediately arrested" and "What do you mean you don't know where your mother lives"
I responded with, "Take any car you'd like with that description" and "Best of luck".
When I returned to my apartment I did what any good daughter would do who was called upon by a repo guy at 5 am in her luxury apartment by her doorman. I called my mother. I left her a message in a voice in which you could actually hear the hate eminating. I told her someone came looking for her car at my door, that I'd NEVER been so embarrassed, and that she'd be arrested if they found her. Her email response was that she didn't give them my address since she doesn't know where I live (jabby little knife, thanks!) and that she's sorry for the inconvenience.
Now I know that "Sorry for the inconvenience" sounds polite, but it really meant "Sorry that you're too rich to understand what us poor folks have to go through to survive and that I dirtied your carpet."
But you know what I think? I think, if you want to screw up your life. Go for it. Until it effects someone else. Namely me. Namely someone whose job depends on her keeping her nose clean and staying out of debt. Because if I lose my clean name...I lose my job. And when I lose my job...I lose my dream job and a lifetime of job security.
And, I might just lose my shit.
With that, I tell the child in my head who thinks perhaps it would be best if I called to say happy birthday or at least send an e-card: "we don't walk to strangers."
*Somehow, my name was linked to hers though I don't know how given we have to different last names - she hasn't used mine for over 20 years. I'm also lucky enough to be the only family member whose name links to her.
The adult in my head knows I have spent my entire adulthood trying to find a way to be in a positive healthy relationship with her - some of my attempts have been better than others - and it has turned out to be impossible. Impossible because it hurts to see where she is in life, it hurts to say no when she asks for money, it hurts when she says hateful things, it hurts when she says nice things because you know they will be followed by mean things, it hurts when she takes credit for my successes. It hurts to watch someone self destruct and hope to god you don't follow that path.
Aside from the hurt is my disgust for her utter lack of concern for anyone or anything around her. It might be silly, but I'm pissed she doesn't pay her bills, doesn't pay taxes, and lives off of our government services. But you know what? I think even more than hurt and pissed, I'm embarrassed. Embarrassed that I am the daughter of someone who plays the system (and unfortunately is successful at it). This embarassment recently came to a head.
It was about 5 am on a weekday...only 30 minutes before I was scheduled to get up...when I got a knock on the door. It was my doorman. Very appologetically, he said he was very sorry to disturb me at this hour but that there was someone downstairs who was here to reposess my car.
At 5 am, awoken from a dead sleep, I will admit I wasn't in my usual quick form. I repeatedly said "But I OWN my car". And then he said the two magic words.
My mother's name.
Having lived here for not even two months, most of the people I want to find me cannot. And so, I knew it was trouble. I immediately wondered if somehow my mother had put debt into my name or filed against my car. Though none of that makes sense, I cannot be held accountable for what happens at 5 am when your doorman says "Repossess."
The short of a long story is that it wasn't my car they were looking for, it was my mom's.* The Repo Man said words like "State police are on their way" and "The title of the car is in my name and whomever is found driving the car will be immediately arrested" and "What do you mean you don't know where your mother lives"
I responded with, "Take any car you'd like with that description" and "Best of luck".
When I returned to my apartment I did what any good daughter would do who was called upon by a repo guy at 5 am in her luxury apartment by her doorman. I called my mother. I left her a message in a voice in which you could actually hear the hate eminating. I told her someone came looking for her car at my door, that I'd NEVER been so embarrassed, and that she'd be arrested if they found her. Her email response was that she didn't give them my address since she doesn't know where I live (jabby little knife, thanks!) and that she's sorry for the inconvenience.
Now I know that "Sorry for the inconvenience" sounds polite, but it really meant "Sorry that you're too rich to understand what us poor folks have to go through to survive and that I dirtied your carpet."
But you know what I think? I think, if you want to screw up your life. Go for it. Until it effects someone else. Namely me. Namely someone whose job depends on her keeping her nose clean and staying out of debt. Because if I lose my clean name...I lose my job. And when I lose my job...I lose my dream job and a lifetime of job security.
And, I might just lose my shit.
With that, I tell the child in my head who thinks perhaps it would be best if I called to say happy birthday or at least send an e-card: "we don't walk to strangers."
*Somehow, my name was linked to hers though I don't know how given we have to different last names - she hasn't used mine for over 20 years. I'm also lucky enough to be the only family member whose name links to her.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Loving all things winter
Since the move to Dream State, I have to say. I love all things winter. I've adapted to the cold wherein I find anything in the 30's to be quite reasonable. I love the falling of snow, the crunch of snow, the winter wonderland, the tapping of sleet on the windows, the look of frozen plants under ice, scarves and gloves, jackets, booties...I even find the dirty snow banks amusing as I've decided they look toasted marshmallows.
We've sadly been missed by most of the snow in the past week, but I've benefited from my organization keeping it safe and allowing us to telecommute in case the snow fell as bad as it did over the rest of the country.
Seriously? In case of snow telecommuting? Way better than hurricane days.
I've recently realized some potential negative outcomes of my new snow love. In my exploration of snow and ice, I have nearly fallen on my ass from sneaky ice. That is ice that looked like dew but nearly caused me to land on my tuchas. And the dog is not nearly as thrilled with it as we'd been promised. She kind of stands there and waits for us to be done. And, she's not super thrilled about pooing on snow so it often ends up on cleared sidewalks. I also seem completely unable to keep track of head coverings - I've lost two of three hats purchased within a week of buying them.
More importantly, I discovered my big toe is also sore - which seemed correlated with the snow arrival. I thought - well I can't possibly have arthritis in my toe. And then, this past weekend as PC and I were walking through the city and I took my periodic detours to walk on the remaining ice and to kick the piles of snow that had been cleared onto the edges of the street...I discovered why my toe hurt.
Toes do not like being jammed into solid ice.
Weird.
We've sadly been missed by most of the snow in the past week, but I've benefited from my organization keeping it safe and allowing us to telecommute in case the snow fell as bad as it did over the rest of the country.
Seriously? In case of snow telecommuting? Way better than hurricane days.
I've recently realized some potential negative outcomes of my new snow love. In my exploration of snow and ice, I have nearly fallen on my ass from sneaky ice. That is ice that looked like dew but nearly caused me to land on my tuchas. And the dog is not nearly as thrilled with it as we'd been promised. She kind of stands there and waits for us to be done. And, she's not super thrilled about pooing on snow so it often ends up on cleared sidewalks. I also seem completely unable to keep track of head coverings - I've lost two of three hats purchased within a week of buying them.
More importantly, I discovered my big toe is also sore - which seemed correlated with the snow arrival. I thought - well I can't possibly have arthritis in my toe. And then, this past weekend as PC and I were walking through the city and I took my periodic detours to walk on the remaining ice and to kick the piles of snow that had been cleared onto the edges of the street...I discovered why my toe hurt.
Toes do not like being jammed into solid ice.
Weird.
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