This may be my last at-work written blog post for awhile, well at least this will be the last week I’m able to blog at work.  Not that I’ve been writing much lately anyway, but…

I’ve been ridiculously busy, with the ever impending wedding and the total lack of preparation on my part, with my multiple tasks with “yesterday,” or completely non-existent, deadlines, with a house that, 2 months after we moved in, is still in no way, shape, or form organized…or even completely unpacked, and with a new, short-ish notice transfer to a different department that I still haven’t gotten a straight answer on when it’s actually supposed to happen. 

While I am totally stoked about the transfer (it gives me multiple opportunities for learning new things, expanding my skill set, and therefore resume, and a promise of a pretty decent raise in the nearrrrrrr-ish future), I am not totally stoked about my office-mates’ reactions to my move.  Not everyone, mind you.  My actual friends are truly happy for me.  They share at least somewhat in my excitement, and at the very least support me in this whole thing.  My actual friends are, as always, wonderful.  But then there are those who I thought were my friends.  Silly me! 

Friend.  How do you define it?   Dictionary.com says:

Well, in regards to my current work-mates, 1 and 2 just go out the door.  3 is iffy on any given day.  4 is passable, and 5, well, let’s just leave 5 out of this.  In all honesty, I wouldn’t have previously called all of my work-mates “friends,” otherwise why would I refer to them as “work-mates?”  But I did previously call many of them friends, and those are the ones whose recent attitude, reaction, whatever is bothering me the most.  Are we really that far removed?  Is this comraderie that we share really that shallow?  Or is it simply petty immaturity?  Or maybe I’m being ridiculously oversensitive…NO!  That’s not even a possibility! 

Let me explain.  On-again-off-again friendships around here happen often.  Whatever.  It’s the nature of the beast.  But suddenly, coincidentally coinciding directly with the news of my move, I’m getting a severe case of the cold shoulders everywhere I turn.  There is no polite conversation.  There is no “how was your weekend.”  There isn’t even eye contact.  And I swear whenever I walk into a room, out to the smoke pit, towards an area where any group or individual is hovering, said group or individual scatters at my presence.  What the F is that about?  Really?  I’m going to a different office so now you have NOTHING to say to me?  We can’t be pseudo-friends?  You can’t even manage a polite “hello”?  I give up.

I’ve decided I’m past the point of caring…but really I’m not.  Not even a little.  It hurts, people.  These are people I’ve spend the most time with over the last 3 or so years.  These are the people I’ve had actual conversations with on a daily basis (til now).  Most of these people I thought I could depend on in a pinch, call if I was in trouble, reach out to for help…but yeah, apparently not so much.  I don’t make friends easily.  I don’t open up often.  I don’t trust many.  And for anyone that I consider a friend or that I open up to or trust, even a little, to suddenly, inexplicably just cut off all interaction…it feels like a punch to the gut.  And there are multiples of them. 

Ah, well…this too shall pass, right?  Moving on and moving up and all that other happy horse-shit.  No biggie.  I’m a big girl and I’ve lived through much worse in  my life than a few hurt feelings.  Hmmm…maybe there’s still time to save some money on the headcount for the wedding….

I have been desperately trying to map out some sort of career path for myself, oh, for the last 23 years or so, and so far? I have no idea!  In my younger days it was a teacher (of course), the president, a marine biologist.  I’ve dabbled more than once in the idea of being a cop or deputy sheriff.  In high school, when I actually gave some small amount of thought to my future (not very often), I vaguely remember an interest in psychology.  In college, I went down the ROTC path and wanted to be a pilot…oops, can’t due to my vision, so ok, how about a flight surgeon: the doctor in the Air Force who treats those on flying status.  But then I got pregnant, dropped out of college, had an abortion, went into a deep depression and enlisted in the Air Force instead, which brought me to my first real career direction: Air Traffic Controller.  Awesome job!  But various life choices have left me in a place that doesn’t suit Air Traffic Control well, military or civilian. 

Since separating, I’ve been falling  back on my military training as my “this is what I can do” thing.  The problem is, ATC training prepares you to be a controller…and not much else.  It’s not really a transferable skill set.  Sure, in college I did early childhood learning and data entry for an insurance company.  Since the Air Force, I spent a little over a year doing background investigations for a county public safety office (another fun interesting job).  But now I’m back in an ATC-ish job with a little light engineering and data processing on the side, and no expansion potential.  While the job is easy, and occasionally mildly rewarding, I’ve been struggling with the question: “is this really where I want to be?”  And I think I’ve determined the answer is a resounding “NO!”

But what do I want to do “when I grow up?”

My answer changes every month or so, it seems.  A year and a half ago when I was contracted to do some photography work, I thought, “this is it!  This is my in to a career I’ll really love!”  Yeah, no work since or besides that one job.  And would I really want to be a professional photographer?  Well, yes and no.  I would a la Ansel Adams.  Taking pictures of what I want, how I want, and selling them by the dozen to faceless masses?  That works for me.  Portrait work or anything that involves more than minimal interaction with actual people?  Not so much.  I don’t play well with others and it shows.  I’ve considered getting a math degree, but really, what do you do with that?  A physics or other science degree, but a research scientists (I would totally love that) gets paid basically nothing, and that’s if you can get in with a company like NASA (double love!).  Stay at home mom sounds better and better every day, but even with our recent jump in income, our equal jump in spending (yeah, we’re kind of retarded that way) has made that a total pipe dream.  So what to do?

First step is education, right?  I’ve achieved my Bachelor’s degree, albeit in a kind of BS way (no pun intended), but it doesn’t get me anything except a pretty piece of paper and a pat on the back.  So on to my Masters…but in what?  The smart choice is some sort of Management; Project Management, Business Management, Choose-Your-Own Management.  There are so many to choose from, but one problem is true to all: I would end up being a manager.  Did I mention I don’t play well with others?  While I can lead others, I am almost positive I don’t want to.  I like to be more hands on, more involved, and I like to work solo.  Depending on others is definitely not a strong suit with me.  Gee, don’t I just sound like a peach to work with?  So while I have achieved a BS BS degree, I really have no where to take it.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not totally BS.  It did educate me in the multiple facets of my current job, and after all, that is the goal of education, right?  To educate?  But it doesn’t move me forward.  It doesn’t open any doors of opportunity.  I learned stuff and got a feather in my hat.  Sweet.  Now what?

With a little bit of self-exploration (not that kind, you perv!), I think I may need to work on a second Bachelor’s rather than a Master’s, at least for now.  But options are limited by college offerings: must be all or mostly distance/online learning; by work intensity: I’m still working full time, commuting 1 1/2 hours a day total, and have two kids to worry about…oh, and I tend to go through lazy periods; and by financial feasibility: why spend the time and money on a degree that I can’t use to get a job after and that doesn’t even remotely apply to my current job? 

Top of the list at this very moment? Graphic Design.  Ok, so I may not be 100% familiar with all that Graphic Design is, but I think I would enjoy it.  And, ok, so I have no certainty at all that I will be able to find a decent paying job after, but I think I would enjoy it.  And, ok, so I’m only actually 60% sure that I would even enjoy working in that industry, but I think I would enjoy it.  I have a small amount of talent in design and art.  I enjoy artistic creation in almost all mediums.  And in an ideal world, I could work at home, with my family, on my beautiful Mac, and life would be all sunshine and roses…theoretically.  So I sent away for information from the Art Institute of America, and we shall see.  But, if any of you readers out there have some sort of experience or insight in this area of the career world that you are just dying to share…please feel free!  I could definitely use it. 

And in the meantime…more soul searching, self exploration, dreaming and hoping, while plodding along in this thing called my life until some sort of answer comes my way.  *sigh* and ho-hum.

Some people feel they must, or rather, have a very real need it seems to butt in where they don’t belong or are not wanted, or both.  Why?  Here are a couple key hints: when someone says “that’s not what I was talking about” and then goes back to their conversation totally leaving you and your unwelcome comment our of it, back off!  When someone says “I’ve got this” while holding up their hand in the international sign for stop talking and go away, give some serious thought to doing just that.  If someone seems to be a perfectly functioning human being probably fully capable of accomplishing some inane duty or another, leave them alone and later, if warranted by some momentous mistake, you may revel in their inabilities and ignorance.  Silently.  In your own head.  All in all, if you find yourself spontaneously drawn to events or conversations without invitation halfway through the progression of said event or conversation and are not typically met with sighs of relief or expressions of joy at your mere presence, reconsider opening your mouth at all, except maybe to eat or drink.  All necessary communication can be effectively achieved with occasional head nodding.  Thanks.

I’ve been playing hooky from my blog lately.  Not exactly sure why.  Maybe I’m tired of whining about how I feel.  Maybe I’m having some guilt about blogging when there are a MILLION other things I should be doing that I’m just not.  Maybe I’m being lazy.  Whatever it is, maybe I’m over it.  Maybe I’m not. 

So how do I feel I (don’t) hear you ask.  Well.  Lyme disease sucks.  It really does.  Physically, I have more bad days than good days.  There is pain, pretty much everywhere.  Some days it’s not so bad.  Some days it’s excruciating.  Think of a body part…yeah, it hurts there too.  So that’s fun.  Also, there is the “floaters,”  the harmless little black lines and spots everyone has in their eyes from time to time.  Only, mine are multiplying like horny rabbits and are always there.  Seriously, the words on my computer screen are dancing right now.  It makes reading anything very difficult.  And a new addition to the eye thing: now there are white, or bright spots along with the black spots.  It must be similar to what celebrities see after being flashed with a thousand flashbulbs on a regular basis.  My ears, constantly ringing.  Constantly.  It’s like after going to a really good rock concert, only I don’t get the perk of actually going to a really good rock concert.  It makes me very sensitive to sounds.  Annoying sounds are that much more annoying.  Loud sounds are that much louder and more grating.  Even whisper sounds drive me nuts.  I’m seriously craving a sensory deprivation chamber right about now, but all my problems are internal, so that probably wouldn’t work anyway.  I’m nauseous, and my appetite fluctuates between famished and I never want to eat again.  I almost always have a headache.  At the moment (I think) I am developing a nasty cold, since I’m stuffy about 50% of the time and there is a golfball-sized lump where my left lymph node should be in my neck.  My hands and feet swell randomly.  I’m tired and achy when I wake up in the morning, every morning.  After my shower (at $5 per shower thanks to needing a 6×6 tagaderm patch just to take a shower…gift ideas anyone?) and coffee, I am fairly awake for about 2 hours, then back to sheer exhaustion until I finally make it to bed at night.  I have cotton mouth pretty much all the time thanks to the pain meds, which don’t full work.  I get horrible stomach and muscle cramps thanks to the antibiotic infusions every 12 hours.  And now I’m on ADHD meds for the severe memory lapses and brain fog, so who knows what kind of side effects that will bring.  The antibiotics are also bringing about all the “normal” antibiotic side effects: candida, indigestion, digestive issues, upset stomach, etc, etc.  Probiotics are holding it off to a tolerable level, but then that just adds another couple pills a day to choke down.  Yea! 

Then there is the emotional stuff.  Long term pain = depression, of some sort or another.  I’m cranky most of the time, which I very unfairly take out on Mr. W (who is taking this all very well considering) and my kids, unfortunately.  (If only the ex-men would call more often to take the brunt of the crank!)  I’m feeling extremely unattractive, undesirable, un-everything thanks to a new, very short hair cut that I’m really  not liking (the showering thing, it only made sense to make my “getting ready” routine as easy as possible),  the bloat/weight gain that makes it difficult and uncomfortable to get dressed in anything but sweats, and, oh yeah, there’s the 4 inch long tube sticking out of my chest, just above my left boob, which requires wearing a sports bra to bed every night, and I’m already pretty flat in that area.  Like I need the extra compression.  My upper body has become a no fly zone, and with my flat-chested sports bra “lingerie” and my extremely short hair, I’m feeling more an more like a boy in the bedroom.  Not so great for the “mood,” at least on my part anyway.

Aren’t you glad you asked? 

Beyond the Lyme, I’m prepping for Christmas, which incidentally will be held over New Years in my house as the kidlets are with their dads this year.  Money is tight, but on-line shopping has provided me with some fantastic deals over the last couple months.  Yea for being proactive in something. 

Mr. W got a new job, starting just after Christmas.  Fortunately it’s like a 40% pay raise and in the field he loves.  Unfortunately, his office is about a 1 1/2 hour commute each way, even with public transportation, and his hours may be sporadic due to the type of work he will be doing.  So he won’t be home much during the week.  But we will be moving somewhere near the middle in the early Spring, and hopefully his new connections up there will throw out some info on jobs in my field of work and then we can move all the way up there.  I’m not planning on changing jobs any time soon…well at least until after I A) graduate, also early spring, and B) get the tube out of my chest and resolve all of my health issues.  “Nice to meet you on my first day of work.  By the way, I’m going to need to work a half day once a week so I can meet my home nurse, and I need at least 2 days off a month for doctors visits, and will probably average 1 other day off a week for just general sickness, and that doesn’t even touch any kid-related time off…thanks for the job.”  Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well with a new or potential employer. 

And speaking of new jobs, one of my best girlfriends is starting today at her new job, here, with me.  Yea!!  We met briefly in basic training (different squadrons there), and went on to Tech school together.  Although we were in different classes for the same career field, we had the same circle of friends and lived in the same hall.  We went to our first base together and managed to work out being roommates there.  Our friendship didn’t do so well in the dorm setting.  She was a party girl and I grew tired of that pretty fast as I was more interested in boys, and yes I do mean boys.  Looking back, I had pretty shitty taste in males!  I married ex #1, despite her loathing of him and warnings about him.  I even left her off the guest list to our wedding.    Anyway, we both eventually transferred and went on with our lives.  You know my story.  She went over-seas.  Grew up a lot.  Had a son.  Moved back stateside, and we reconnected about 5 years later, our friendship re-growing on a much more adult level.  Long story short, she was looking for more security for her and her boy, and my office was looking for more reliable new employees.  I introduced the two and wa-la.  She starts today.  All around, it’s great.  I have a close friend who is actually geographically close.  My kids and her son get along great, and they all have had a shortage of “at home” friends up to this point in their lives.  And she’s getting the security and benefits she needs for her and her son, while working decent hours.  I get a reliable, hard co-worker among a group of (mostly) assholes and slackers.  Win-win-win all around!

So that’s that.  I’m successfully dizzy from watching the letters dance on my screen, my fingers are starting to tingle from actually using them.  And I need a smoke and a coffee refill.  Oh, yeah, and I should probably get to at least one of those previously mentioned MILLION things I need to get done, like, yesterday.

Just in case I slack on the blog again for a while…

The so-called “honeymoon phase” of a relationship is a grand and wonderful thing.  Everything seems to fall away in the presence of, or even a mere thought of that new(ish) someone special.  One can easily pass hours, days, weeks without even realizing.  Time is easily filled with just being together.  *sigh* And how long does it last?  I guess it’s different for different people in different situations.  I suppose it could easily go on for years with a young couple in the prime of their lives and careers, with no kids or severe responsibilities.  When talking and love-making are all that’s really important. 

Someone recently told me “you can’t stop the Earth from spinning.”  It’s true.  You can’t.  I’ve tried.  Oh, to hold on to those honeymoon times forever.  To shed responsibility and live in the rapture that is new love.  It feels almost as if the Earth has stopped spinning for those moments…almost.  But in the end it all comes back into focus in jarring reality.  Life does in fact go on, and responsibilities still sit at your door and wait for you, no matter how long it takes for you to come out. 

Mr. W and I have a fantastic relationship.  In the beginning, we were fully enchanted with the honeymoon stages of things.  Responsibilities fell away and things like sleep just didn’t feel important.  Of course, this was also before the boy started school and my kids were still on the 2 weeks here, 2 weeks there rotation, so, no, I did not totally cast off all responsibility for a piece of ass, thank you very much.  Anyway.  Right around the time we moved in together and he left for Iraq, all that slowing of the Earth on its axis snapped back with full force and we’ve been struggling to recover ever since. 

There are: kid issues, health issues (oh, my are there health issues!), a need for sleep that can’t be ignored, insomnia (on both our parts), schedules with my exes, schedules with his ex, schedules with work, schedules with family, pets, holidays, time off, sick time, working, college, schools, housework, yard work, financial issues, stresses from all sides, creative transportation arranging (i.e. carting kids here and there), doctors appointments for 6 different people, dentist appointments, braces, learning to drive, buying a car, buying a house, selling a house, moving, storing, decluttering, organizing, Christmas shopping, dinners, lunches, groceries, cooking, planning, exercising, not exercising, great intentions and epic fails…the list of life goes on and on…and on.

It all seems to have come at once, knocking us square on our asses, struggling to regain our footing in the world, that damn spinning world.  But we are doing it together.  We are side by side in all of it, helping each other get a foothold here, dragging each other down as we slip there, but together through it all.  In the end, what more could you really ask for? 

I don’t think a successful relationship can be judged purely on happiness.  Seriously.  No one, no one in the world is 100% happy 100% of the time.  It’s not possible.  Unless they secretly found a way to stop the Earth from spinning and are happily living in one of their moments of happiness, but I highly doubt it.  The glory of life is it’s ups and downs.  How can you possibly know how good things are now if they’ve never been bad?  How can you know true happiness if you’ve never felt sadness?  How can you  know the true height of joy if you’ve never seen the true depth of despair?  Good and evil must coexist in order to be, so how could the same not hold true to the other pairs?  Mr. W and I have both been to the lowest of lows and have come out the other side fully ready to appreciate the high that is us.  We’ve had heartbreak and have mended each other’s hearts.  We’ve had despair and brought tears of joy to each other’s eyes.  We’ve been broken and have worked to put each other back together again.  That’s just how we roll. 

The best of the best?  We are just there.  Through the hard and the bad and the sad and the stressing, we are there.  No time in our relationship (so far) has been harder than now.  But we are still there.  All those things I listed above, all those responsibilities and “problems,”  yeah, we’ve got them.  Even without the added external stresses (kids, jobs, schools, etc, etc) we have quite literal “shit” going on just with us, or more to the point, me.  My Lyme disease = pain (physical for me, emotional for him), moodiness on both sides, stress, worry, and more stress, financial difficulty (yeah, doctors’ bills.  Gotta love ‘em!), and limits in just about everything, and really, who likes having limits?  But he’s there.  He’s here.  He stands by me.  Yes, sometimes he has trouble accepting his role of stand-next-to-er and tries to do that man thing of trying to fix everything.  But he’s working on that.  I can see where it’s hard to be helpless in all this.  To witness so much pain and suffering and not be able to do a thing about it.  I understand. 

And he tries. 

And we do it all together.  As best friends, as lovers, as soul-mates, as the most wonderful us we can be.  Together. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************** 

I’m getting my chest port/Groshong catheter put in on Friday morning.  I’m freaking the hell out!  He quit smoking already, for me, and for him, and for me.  He said he finally has a reason to want to live a long healthy life.  All together now: *awwww*    I’m quitting too, although not as abruptly, or successfully.  But it’s hard to quit when you are freaking the hell out about something less than a week away.  He gets it without my explanation.  He accepts my weakness and loves me still.  Would you still love me if I were 400lbs?  Would you still love me if I lost all my hair?  Will you still love me when I’m old?  Will you still love me with a 4″ long tube sticking out of my chest? 

Of course he will.  And I call him Mr. Wonderful!

So it’s been two whole months since that mystery pain crept in and turned my world on end, later becoming a diagnosis of Lyme disease, continuing into a whole habit-changing, pill-popping, symptom-tracking, I-hate-my-body-ing thing.  At this point, I’m so over the multiple daily inquiries on “how I’m feeling today” by all those around me, mostly because they don’t actually give a shitand are only asking out of some morbid fascination with other people’s pain combined with a lame attempt at being sympathetic, or interested in my life, or whatever.  Basically I’ve been putting on a happy face for everyone just so they will leave me the hell alone, and also stop looking at me like “ooh, there goes the sick girl.  She’s sick.  It’s a whole sicky thing over there.  It must suck to be sick.”  BLAH-BLAH-freaking-BLAH!

But really, how am I feeling?  Well…

The pain is lingering, but not constant.  I’m to the point where I can feel it creeping in and pop a pill before it becomes wince-worthy.  I’m not sleeping, like, AT ALL, so yeah, that sucks, but it’s not the first time in my life I’ve had an all out war with insomnia.  For some reason I wake up every morning dying of thirst.  Like seriously, DYING!  So thirsty that my morning coffee that I love OH SO MUCH just won’t go down because all I want is 15 gallons of water.  And as if that isn’t enough, my coffee affair is further sabotaged by nearly constant nausea.  It is so difficult to enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee with creamer when you feel like you are going to throw up any second.  And even harder when you actually do!  Work sucks all the way around for the lack of sleep, the annoyance of waking up at 5am (on no sleep), the uncomfortable semi-professional attire (when I would love nothing more than to slip into some nice comfy sweats and go back to sleep), the lack of coffee to counteract the lack of sleep and the getting up at 5am, and, yeah, the urge to suddenly up and chuck doesn’t mesh well with my  job description which calls for constant attention to my position for at least an hour at a time.  There are hot and cold flashes, headaches, both tension and sinus, did I mention the undying thirst? And of course the accompanying need to pee every. twenty. seconds.  And there are all the other little things: the brain fog, the sore back and joints, the “sensitive” stomach, the stiff neck, the lack of any kind of energy whatsoever, the occasional light depression…the list just goes on! 

But I’m keeping a happy face…trying…

With the weather turning I am now faced with the decision on whether or not to get not one, but two flu shots (you k now that H1N1 thing).  I haven’t had one in years.  Not since I separated from the military and thusly separated from the MANDITORY stamp put on every vaccine that came out.  (Anthrax, yellow fever, flu shots.  check, check, check.)  But now, I just don’t know.  Do I chance getting sick in my weakened immune state?  Or do I get the shot and chance getting something from the “weakened” virus in my weakened immune state?  And what about the kids?  Neither of them have gotten in for testing yet (for Lyme) which even if they did there is the great possibility it will come back negative even if they have it (yet another joy of being a Lymie).  My docs office is so backed up that I can’t get them in until next month and the girl’s father is just being, well, difficult about the whole thing.  What to do, what to do?  Taking sick leave for the flu, whether for myself or for the kids, just isn’t an option right now.  And I don’t think I have the physical strength to deal with getting the flu on top of everything else I’m feeling right now.  Arrgghh! 

And next Monday: the neurologist.  Do I have holes in my brain?  Do I have MS?  Am I going to go blind?  Have the little buggers that are causing the Lyme gotten in there?  Am I going to lose my mind (or have I already?)?  Or is everything perfectly normal?  (That last one was for Mr. W.  Love you, baby!) 

And now I think it may be time to vomit, get a gallon or so of water, take a couple dozen pills, and put on a happy face to resume work.  Cheers! 

Because I’m not actually in my head right now as it is so completely stuffed with whatever your head is stuffed with when you have a stuffy head, I give you a converstation (or possibly a couple conversations) going on in my office right now:

“We need to have an intervention.”

“…and he becomes the alpha male.”

“He, like, lived in someone’s trashcan.”

“Is it filled up with fuel?”

“Well, you could set up a hot dog stand.”

“There’s a dynamic balance involving the hot dog stand.”

“By all means.”

“I just got Farkled.”

“You’re about two days ahead of me.”

“It’s that bad Karma.”

“That’s just like running me over, then backing back over me to see if I’m alright.  Just slow the f#@& down.”

“Freakin’ Farkle!”

“It’s like taking the sucker right out of a kids hand.  He’s not even doing the bait and switch anymore.”

“I just Farkled out.”

Yeah, that’s where I work.

So I’m home sick again.  again.  again.  When will it end?  Yesterday I was nauseous all day, which led into me passing out on the couch (literally) when I got home, which led to me feeling (and sounding) like crap for the entire evening yet not being able to go to bed early because of said nap, which led to me feeling like more crap this morning.  Yea!

But sitting here today, I’ve been thinking:  How would it be to be a SAHM (Stay at home mom)?  I wonder if I would like it, or more to the point, if I could handle it.  I’ve been working pretty much constantly since I was 15 years old taking breaks only for 6 weeks following the birth of my kids and the occasional week or two for vacations.  Those second six weeks following the birth of my daughter had me firmly believing that I would never be a SAHM.  Never. I spent most of the time at ex#2′s parent’s house (chaos), dealing with post-partum that I hadn’t yet figured out, with two children who didn’t sleep through the night, one of them being really colicky (or maybe it was just her reacting to all the chaos and negativity around her), and my marriage was falling apart.  When I went back to work it was a heavenly escape from the absolute hell that was my home life.  But now things are different.

One concern I have is that I’m really lazy because I’m tired all the time. Or possibly I’m tired because I’m lazy…-but anyway.  The time that I have taken off work has historically been filled with a whole lot of nothing.  Well, there has been extended sleeping and naps, catching up on mindless tv and romantic comedies via On-Demand programming, and, yeah, that’s about it.  So if I was a SAHM, would my life slip even more into a endless pit of laziness, or is my laziness a product of my working 9 hours a day for the last 2 years and at least 6 hours a day, plus school, for the last 15 years.  (Or maybe I’m just lazy…)

But theoretically, if I wasn’t lazy, life could be great! First and foremost, I would easily have the girl full time, maybe even without the need to move.  I would be able to take care of my house properly.  Without the assistance of a maid (yeah, we still have her.  I know my previous justification was that Mr. W was gone, but I really hate cleaning bathrooms!  I’m sure the conversation is coming on dropping her services in the near future…).  I could take my kids to and from school.  We (as a family) would have more time and energy to do extracurriculars and I could actually take part in them (you know, the time and energy thing).  Now that the kids are in school, I could take time for myself as well.  I could work on my photography, maybe take a class, find some new material.  I could exercise during the day, work on my health, maybe take a yoga class a couple times a week.  With my recent sick-i-ness, I could use a little more time in my day to get adequate rest and work in some exercise, not really an option with my current schedule.  I’ve even played with the idea of taking a leave of absence from work and taking time off from school to work on my self…of course, that would mean no paycheck and no education assistance check from the VA, so, yeah, maybe not an option…

Yep, it all comes down to the fact that I/we desperately need to win the lottery. 

I think I may have picked the wrong career path.  I walk around my building, and half the time I have no freakin’ clue what the hell anyone is talking about!  My writing vocabulary is slightly larger than my verbal vocabulary, but words like parameters, metrics, instrumentation, etc aren’t in either.  Seriously.  Who walks around having conversations that involve these words?  Yeah, my fellow engineery types, that’s who.  Most of the time I just nod my head and smile as I watch the terms go sailing well over my head. 

My Junior year of high-school, I had a giant crush on a Senior.  His name was Jon (yeah, probably still is, but you get the point).  So Jon was tall, all muscle-y (swim jock…can you say Speedo?), and super-crazy smart.  There used to be a state-funded program that took the two smartest Seniors from each graduating class, state-wide (like two from the state, not two from each school) which gave them a full ride to any of the three state colleges, plus a one-year internship in Europe.  Yeah, he was one of the two.  Jon was (again, probably still is) of Chinese descent and, as was normal for the Chinese in my old community, was only allowed to date other Chinese.  Unfortunately for Jon, he wasn’t attracted to Chinese girls.  Or any Asian girls for that matter.  He preferred the more prominent-for-our-area Hispanic girls.  Lucky for me, I am a Chinese-mix who looks more on the Latin side.  I was so excited for our first date (and our last).  All went as normal first dates do.  He picked me up with gentlemanly politeness.  We drove in mostly awkward silence to the restaurant.  Lots of nervous laughter and smiles to start.  But then, as we got more comfortable with each other, the conversations started, and my crush ended.  He was one of those guys who sounds smart.  He used those words that, although I know their meaning and can quite effectively write with, I never use in everyday casual conversation.  Despite knowing I was on an equal playing field with him intelligence wise, he made me feel dumb, through no fault of his own.  I didn’t like it, and there ended our could-have-been…

I am surrounded by super-smart people every day.  I work in a building, in an environment full of engineers, scientists, mathematicians, and literal rocket scientists.  I do enjoy the company of the intelligent.  Most of my friends are quite intelligent, but the ones that I deal with most are the “normals” of the ”smarts.”  Intelligence doesn’t take the form of fancy vocabularies and lofty ideas.  It’s not quoting books or other scholarly folks.  It is the ability to think, to deduce, to problem-solve, to have an opinion and express it, and to be open to new thoughts and ideas.  I think we are so wrapped up in the percieved definition of “smarts” that we overlook the truly intelligent all around us. 

Of course, I’m the “cute” girl who was also recently described as “normal” in comparison to a co-worker’s female Computer Science classmates, so I may be a little biased in all this.  But truly, I don’t feel that big words make the brain.  Big ideas with the ability to back them up do.  But in my work-world of “super-smarts,” I’m left as just another “normal” being passed over and underestimated.  Yeah, maybe I should find a new career path…

What I’m wearing today: wide-leg dress pants, greyish-tan.  short-sleeve wrap shirt, tan and white striped. lace cami underneath, white. platform sandals, brown. 

This is how I like to dress for work.  Yes, sometimes it’s jeans and some simple top, but I prefer the above.  It may be a skirt, or simple dress (knee length, always)or even capris, but generally a little more dressed-up than down.  At home it’s generally jeans/shorts and t-shirts/tanks, so work is my opportunity to look nice.  I like to look nice.  I don’t go out, ever, so it’s not like I get to dress up any other time. 

Enter the creepy-guys…

Monday I wore a simple cotton sheath dress (Target: $12.98).  Yesterday it was a paisley-print sleeveless top with trouser jeans.  I don’t show much skin, at least I don’t think so.  I don’t wear my clothes that are way too tight, yet I get strange visits and leery looks.  It’s enough to make me want to stop bathing for a week and come to work in sweats!  (Reading this, I realize I may be coming off a little vain, but seriously, there are some creepyguys around my workplace!)  Monday (Target dress day) dude 1 came in to my office and sat with me for an hour, chatting, for no real reason.  We aren’t friends.  We aren’t even acquaintances.  He didn’t even have anything to say, really.  He just sat there and I forced conversation because that is slightly less creepy than him just sitting there.  Today, super-creepy dude 2, who doesn’t smoke, and has a broken foot or something so walks with a cane, slowly, painfully, followed me out to the smoking gazebo seemingly just to tell me how nice I looked Monday.  Oh, and how I always look nice, and nothing much else.  Yeah, nice, whatever.  But WTF, man! We are in a professional (ha!) working environment, and he’s following out of his way to express his feelings about my appearance?  Dude 2 has done this before, although not lately.  He once caught me coming out of the bathroom and had me cornered for about 10 minutes of serious discomfort on my part.  He has had similar run-ins (although more blatant) with other girls in the building, and has actually had a couple sexual-harassment complaints against him.  I guess that’s why he’s not so blatant, but still.  You think he’d get the idea.  Dude 1 has also pulled the randomly-sitting-near-me-and-being-weird routine before, but he’s a little socially inept and mostly harmless.

What makes men think that these things are ok?  I’ve experienced leering looks, wolf-whistles, and even drive-by kissy sounds out of passing car windows.  Seriously?!  Do they think that is the key to my heart?  Or more to the point, my pants?  Does that sort of thing ever work?  Is it just me?  These are questions I really want answers to!