Today, after 72 hours of solitude I ventured out to engage in human contact. I went to my old office to pick up some Surfer girl dresses a girlfriend had purchased for me. Seemingly mundane and non-blog worthy, I know. Read on.
At her suggestion, I take the clothes to the bathroom to try on…just in case. Certain, these mediums will fit me, I am normally a small/size 6. The first one, the Blue, Swell, Tunic Dress shirt fits like a charm. Onto the O’Neill Bombay Dress in multi, a triangle halter top with nylon rope straps and uber cute. A wee bit tight as I pull it over my shoulders but once it is on it looks really good. I think I’ll keep it. Time to try on the Lucy Love Almost Famous Maxi Dress. Oh, wait this isn’t coming off. Crap. I succeed in my struggle to get it past my chest. Oh no, my shoulders, though not broad, are wider than my chest. I think I am trapped in this dress. I may have to cut it off my body. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? Ok, get Christine. Embarrassed, I don’t want to…she will see my boobs. She’s a mother, though not old enough to be my mom, she will know what to do. Pull it down, tie it up and head out to find help. I locate her in the copier room. “I need you help getting out of this dress,” I inform her. “Let me look, you didn’t tie it here,” she suggests. “Tying is not going to help me get out of the dress!” “Ok let’s get you out of this dress.” “Let’s go to the bathroom.” “Oh you are right, not here.”
Back to the bathroom/fitting room we go. Christine asks me if I have tried untying it, I tell her I am not am idiot. Oh, dear she declares. Can you kneel? I will do whatever it takes to get out of this dress, it’s pretty but I do not want to wear this all summer. Of course I can kneel. I am now on my knees while she is pulling the dress over my head, “Oh dear, ok, suck in you breasts. Now suck in you shoulders. What just ripped? We are taking this back!” Now the dress is off me. I am standing in the bathroom of my former workplace with a friend braless and afraid to try on anymore clothes.
I have not had human contact in three days and my first outing ends up with me topless, after being trapped in a dress, in the bathroom of my ex-employer with my good friend. Does this shit happen to other people? I suspect, not so much.
Here is my question. Who is wearing this dress? I am a small/size six. My breasts are diminutive (though perfect and perky) in size. Blessed I am, I am able to buy anything off the rack or online and have it fit me. The only person who could wear this is a ten year old with boobs.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
He's not a Jerk....He Just Cannot Do Two Things at Once
Frustrated in line at a coffee shop, everything was annoying me. The slowness of the server, the fact that the girl in front ordered a soy something or other, then she is digging for exact change. The barista is holding the cup for the drip coffee while he stands idly waiting on soy something or other girl. The café manager in me silently screams, you idiot pour the coffee while she savages for 11 cents. WAKE UP you have a line forming. Be efficient. I am 2 seconds from an audible and disempowering sigh accompanied with an eye roll when it occurs to me…he is a man and can only do one thing at a time. They can only hunt one animal at a time and they can only produce one result at a time.
I have heard for years that men are single focused. I never truly knew what that meant until that moment.
Later that evening I am chatting on Facebook, I notice that the chat with men is contemplative, slow and systematic compared to the women who are firing off messages like life depends on it and covering three topics in one thread. Single focus.
So many times, I jump to unfavorable conclusions sitting in a bar feeling ignored while the guy I am with watches the game NOT talking to me, “Is something wrong?” “Just watching the game” Huh? I can watch the TV and have a discussion at the same time. Must just be an excuse for NOT conversing with me. I pout and what had been a pleasant outing takes a turn for the worst. Football finished, he finally notices my sour mood asking, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I retort thinking let’s play tit for tat. Sadly, we were not playing anything until I started it. Men cannot simultaneously watch baseball and disregard me because that would be doing two things.
When I turned 28, my dad forgot phone me to wish me a Happy Birthday. He knew it was my birthday when he left the house but forgot while he was driving to Detroit for the day. I was baffled.
So many times I have not understood when a man says, “Sorry, I couldn’t call you back I was doing blah blah blah….” Yeah, right. You couldn’t stop doing blah blah blah and call me? If you really cared you would call me. You must not love me. No. He is a hunter and if he doesn’t kill that animal (blah blah blah) the entire village could die or he wouldn’t be able to provide.
Understanding this clarifies why men think I am nuts when I jump to unfavorable conclusions which to the female brain make sense. The coven always validates my point of view. “If my boyfriend did that, I would break up with him!” “What a jerk!” “You believe him?” “He could have called.”
Men are not complicated; however, I have been making them outright sinister creating uncalled for conflict. This destructive direction of thinking turns me, a usually confident woman, into a needy, insecure, whiney teenage girl. When I am like that I am neither attractive to men or myself.
The barista provided me with coffee but a practical example of single focus. He led me to an inquiry which has much of my relationships with men make sense. In the long run, the server’s inability to multitask will prevent fights and the ugliness that ensues.
I have heard for years that men are single focused. I never truly knew what that meant until that moment.
Later that evening I am chatting on Facebook, I notice that the chat with men is contemplative, slow and systematic compared to the women who are firing off messages like life depends on it and covering three topics in one thread. Single focus.
So many times, I jump to unfavorable conclusions sitting in a bar feeling ignored while the guy I am with watches the game NOT talking to me, “Is something wrong?” “Just watching the game” Huh? I can watch the TV and have a discussion at the same time. Must just be an excuse for NOT conversing with me. I pout and what had been a pleasant outing takes a turn for the worst. Football finished, he finally notices my sour mood asking, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I retort thinking let’s play tit for tat. Sadly, we were not playing anything until I started it. Men cannot simultaneously watch baseball and disregard me because that would be doing two things.
When I turned 28, my dad forgot phone me to wish me a Happy Birthday. He knew it was my birthday when he left the house but forgot while he was driving to Detroit for the day. I was baffled.
So many times I have not understood when a man says, “Sorry, I couldn’t call you back I was doing blah blah blah….” Yeah, right. You couldn’t stop doing blah blah blah and call me? If you really cared you would call me. You must not love me. No. He is a hunter and if he doesn’t kill that animal (blah blah blah) the entire village could die or he wouldn’t be able to provide.
Understanding this clarifies why men think I am nuts when I jump to unfavorable conclusions which to the female brain make sense. The coven always validates my point of view. “If my boyfriend did that, I would break up with him!” “What a jerk!” “You believe him?” “He could have called.”
Men are not complicated; however, I have been making them outright sinister creating uncalled for conflict. This destructive direction of thinking turns me, a usually confident woman, into a needy, insecure, whiney teenage girl. When I am like that I am neither attractive to men or myself.
The barista provided me with coffee but a practical example of single focus. He led me to an inquiry which has much of my relationships with men make sense. In the long run, the server’s inability to multitask will prevent fights and the ugliness that ensues.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Let Men be Men
In my early twenties, I looked after a lovely little boy named Charlie. I started to baby-sit him at age 3 and continued to take care of him until his family moved right prior to him starting first grade. The little prince, small for his age with a mop of naturally curly sandy blonde hair that he hated, was all boy and the sweetest one at that. Upon my entering his house he would say, “Awyssa, you wook so pretty today.” He would proceed to grab the first available object and give it to me stating, “I maded this for you.” Once we were going to his friends’ house for dinner and he very somber sat me down, holding my hand, to notify me, “I might tawk to my friends more that you. Don’t be sad. We will spend time together water.” I would tuck him in at night and he would say, “I wanna cuddle.” I remember sitting with my friend Amy and her very active toddle Jack. We had a conversation with him about how he was never going to be disrespectful towards women. How do these little boys start out so sweet? What happens to them in puberty?
It isn’t puberty. It’s women. We disempower these little heroes to the point where they become the men we complain about as adults. No mother, aunt, grandmother, babystitter, teacher or girlfriend intends to do this but by the time they are in their college years they are so afraid of getting in trouble, yelled at, eliminated by a women that they became the creatures we hoped they would never be. We take princes and turn them into frogs. We are frog farmers.
I literally collect of frogs. An abundance of little frogs—candles, figurines, flannel and cotton nightshirts. I once had underwear with frogs on them. I have Peter Gabriel singing, “Kiss that Frog” live in my Itunes. All to remind me, you have to kiss an excruciating number of frogs to locate your prince. Why would you kiss them if you didn’t think they were a prince in the first place?
How many times have you started a new relationship and you knew you were dating an attentive, affectionate, thoughtful, peaceful prince yet as the relationship progressed he turned into a frog? I have farmed many frogs in my lifetime. Complaining, whining, withholding, mothering, taking over what they are doing, disappoving (including rolling your eyes and the curt “fine”), ignoring, interrupting, comparing them to other men or boys, and trying to be the better man is just a sampling of the fertalizer available to launch a frog farm. Who doesn’t do that right? How are you going to get men to do what you want them to do? Well, did you do those things when you first started dating? Probably not, because we don’t do those things to princes.
Exploring my significantly disastrous dating life, I realize the reason for breakdowns in my relationships is I have not allowed men be men. Convinced they are going to screw me over, not desire me, or find someone better I attempt to disempower them so that I don’t get my heartbroken. From my first love to the current relationship I notice this to be true. The problem begins the moment we, as women, unknowingly, lay the fertilizer for a frog farm given men cannot win which considering their competitive nature they are not going to play a game that they cannot succeed. For the average woman this clarifies why it looks like they take their ball and go home.
As women, a man dismays us when he fails to do what we, as females, would do in that situation. Men are not women. Men are men. DNA does not allow them to do what we would do. Let men be men and boys be boys and see what opens up for you.
To all the healthy, honorable men I have dated, I am sorry for making you a product of my frog farm.
It isn’t puberty. It’s women. We disempower these little heroes to the point where they become the men we complain about as adults. No mother, aunt, grandmother, babystitter, teacher or girlfriend intends to do this but by the time they are in their college years they are so afraid of getting in trouble, yelled at, eliminated by a women that they became the creatures we hoped they would never be. We take princes and turn them into frogs. We are frog farmers.
I literally collect of frogs. An abundance of little frogs—candles, figurines, flannel and cotton nightshirts. I once had underwear with frogs on them. I have Peter Gabriel singing, “Kiss that Frog” live in my Itunes. All to remind me, you have to kiss an excruciating number of frogs to locate your prince. Why would you kiss them if you didn’t think they were a prince in the first place?
How many times have you started a new relationship and you knew you were dating an attentive, affectionate, thoughtful, peaceful prince yet as the relationship progressed he turned into a frog? I have farmed many frogs in my lifetime. Complaining, whining, withholding, mothering, taking over what they are doing, disappoving (including rolling your eyes and the curt “fine”), ignoring, interrupting, comparing them to other men or boys, and trying to be the better man is just a sampling of the fertalizer available to launch a frog farm. Who doesn’t do that right? How are you going to get men to do what you want them to do? Well, did you do those things when you first started dating? Probably not, because we don’t do those things to princes.
Exploring my significantly disastrous dating life, I realize the reason for breakdowns in my relationships is I have not allowed men be men. Convinced they are going to screw me over, not desire me, or find someone better I attempt to disempower them so that I don’t get my heartbroken. From my first love to the current relationship I notice this to be true. The problem begins the moment we, as women, unknowingly, lay the fertilizer for a frog farm given men cannot win which considering their competitive nature they are not going to play a game that they cannot succeed. For the average woman this clarifies why it looks like they take their ball and go home.
As women, a man dismays us when he fails to do what we, as females, would do in that situation. Men are not women. Men are men. DNA does not allow them to do what we would do. Let men be men and boys be boys and see what opens up for you.
To all the healthy, honorable men I have dated, I am sorry for making you a product of my frog farm.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
How I Spent my Weekend.....or What Men Really Want
When I was asked what I wanted to accomplish out of participating in Celebrating Men Satisfying Women the response came quickly. I wanted to stop disempowering men, learn what it means to be feminine, be more trusting and secure in my relationship, and understand why men do what they do. Admittedly, I was somewhat skeptical as I have taken a lot of courses and these issues had never been handled. Nevertheless, I had been hearing about the course for years. I had friends who took it whenit was still offered in Chicago. Then when it wasn’t, I had friends who flew to New York to participate. Furthermore, it seems now more people in my social circle have done it than those who haven’t. Every woman raves about it and I trust them so what do I have to lose. They have a money back guarantee and I have time on my hands.
Through the years, men have told me that a woman has everything to say about how a relationship goes. Really, I date strong men and they seem to want a say too? They would tell me, “men really want the women in their life to be happy.” Um, then why do they willingly keep doing things that they know will make me unhappy? They’d say, “Men are simple.” How simple can they be when I don’t understand why they do over half of what they do? They couldn’t answer my why questions? If men cannot answer my questions about men then why should I believe what they say? I will go to my faithful female friends, otherwise known as the coven. Men are clueless they would verify. He’s an asshole they would affirm. I wouldn’t put up with that shit they would announce. They would proceed tell me how they would address the situation, which I would act up. Things never ever ever turned out well. Fights and breakups often ensued.
So as more and more of my friends participated in this class they started to reiterate what men had been telling me for years. How could this be? Maybe I should check it out. So all things being right in the universe I registered for the class.
OMG! Why did I wait so long? If I had know what I was missing I would have flown from Chicago to New York YEARS ago. However, I think now is the perfect time for me to do this course. All my training and development not only added to, but also allowed for, me being ready for what this workshop taught. Out of my participation, I was able to pinpoint those ways of thinking, acting and being that had my relationships with men work and those that really really did not. I know that my unique skill set only made the experience richer.
What makes this program exceptional in that it is written by a woman and delivered by a woman. The only people who participate are women. The content is based on interviewing thousands upon thousands of men. The course is not an uniformed women talking about what they thing men want. It is relaying what men have said they want and how they think. My mind was blown by how men think, operate and relate to the world.
Throughout the class, I had about 100,000 moments when I understood why my life with men looked the way it did. Including the good, the bad and the ugly.
I will blog more about the specifics. I acquired everything I wanted and so so soooooo much more. Now it is possible for me is being satisfied with my relationships and not having to be in man-mode to produce a result.
So stay tuned. Men, I want to know from you what your thoughts are about this. What relationship advice can you give? What do you want women to know about men? Women who have done this program pipe in! Coven members, who have not, speak up too!
I love you all…
Through the years, men have told me that a woman has everything to say about how a relationship goes. Really, I date strong men and they seem to want a say too? They would tell me, “men really want the women in their life to be happy.” Um, then why do they willingly keep doing things that they know will make me unhappy? They’d say, “Men are simple.” How simple can they be when I don’t understand why they do over half of what they do? They couldn’t answer my why questions? If men cannot answer my questions about men then why should I believe what they say? I will go to my faithful female friends, otherwise known as the coven. Men are clueless they would verify. He’s an asshole they would affirm. I wouldn’t put up with that shit they would announce. They would proceed tell me how they would address the situation, which I would act up. Things never ever ever turned out well. Fights and breakups often ensued.
So as more and more of my friends participated in this class they started to reiterate what men had been telling me for years. How could this be? Maybe I should check it out. So all things being right in the universe I registered for the class.
OMG! Why did I wait so long? If I had know what I was missing I would have flown from Chicago to New York YEARS ago. However, I think now is the perfect time for me to do this course. All my training and development not only added to, but also allowed for, me being ready for what this workshop taught. Out of my participation, I was able to pinpoint those ways of thinking, acting and being that had my relationships with men work and those that really really did not. I know that my unique skill set only made the experience richer.
What makes this program exceptional in that it is written by a woman and delivered by a woman. The only people who participate are women. The content is based on interviewing thousands upon thousands of men. The course is not an uniformed women talking about what they thing men want. It is relaying what men have said they want and how they think. My mind was blown by how men think, operate and relate to the world.
Throughout the class, I had about 100,000 moments when I understood why my life with men looked the way it did. Including the good, the bad and the ugly.
I will blog more about the specifics. I acquired everything I wanted and so so soooooo much more. Now it is possible for me is being satisfied with my relationships and not having to be in man-mode to produce a result.
So stay tuned. Men, I want to know from you what your thoughts are about this. What relationship advice can you give? What do you want women to know about men? Women who have done this program pipe in! Coven members, who have not, speak up too!
I love you all…
Friday, March 26, 2010
Every Itunes Tells a Story
In January I visited Chicago. I returned from my short trip not knowing who I was anymore. After living in Chicago for 15 years I have a rich set of memories in which I played many roles ranging from student (I have a BFA in Theatre from DePaul University), intern, barista, assistant, friend, lover, fundraiser…you get the picture.
My plane landed at John Wayne Airport (yes that is the name of the OC airport) and I felt lost in every area of my life.
A little over a year and half ago my company offered me a promotion in Newport Beach, CA. I moved brimming with possibility and the idea that I could reinvent myself. I had not played any part...except I relocated for the role I had been cast which was my job. I became my job. My identity was my job and very little else. I let my job dictate to me who I was. To be responsible I never committed to living in California presently so I put very little effort building or creating a life. Moreover, I stopped doing the things that nurtured me like knitting and reading.
By January, my anxiety was getting the better of me. As side symptom of ADD, I get anxious and sometimes have full blown panic attacks. I felt disconnected from myself. I had to do something. I wanted to be peaceful.
Step number one was to take care of myself. I started to demand of myself that I get no less than 7 hours of sleep a night.
The next thing was to make a doctors appointment and start medication for my ADD.
In taking those two actions, the fog started to lift. I began to become present to all the unworkablity around me that I had either caused or ignored. I wanted to be peaceful.
Here we are in March and I have the opportunity to take the next step in my path to self-discovery. I am no longer working so I am no longer my job. I now sit in my apartment with a lot of free time asking myself questions like who am I and what is next for me? What do I want? When should I eat lunch?
Strangely related to this inquiry is for the first time in over 2 years I have access to my Itunes music library. Music has always been something I relate to a time, a memory and/or a feeling. For New Years 2004, I created a five hour-long play list chronologically retelling the year through song. I am personally attached to my collection. Today, I spent hours cleaning it up and discovering what’s there. Doing so it is like reading (or rather listening to) my biography. Air Supply’s Making Love Out of Nothing At All reminds me of my friend Amy and my History Teacher Walt Gawkowski, who had a freakish obsession with the band. I have two versions of Desperado (Linda Ronstadt and The Eagles) and You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away (The Beetles and Eddie Vedder) from the years I was “sorta seeing” a commitment challenged, Pearl Jam loving, trader (and yes I wrote years). I ripped Ani DiFranco’s Fixing Her Hair, Bette Midler’s The Girl in Onto You, and I’ll Never Fall in Love Again (Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharack) when that train wreck of a relationship concluded. I downloaded Wish You Were Here because it reminds me of Redmond’s, an establishment I went to my first year at DePaul. I purchased Maggie May for my roommate and her significantly younger boyfriend. Each song tells my history and evokes a recollection of the past. It brings me a little closer to who I was. And it is a giant missing that I haven’t had access or added to it in over 2 years. It is like I have musical amnesia. So now is the time to take all those unknown pieces of me and create a new play list telling the tale of life in 2010. I made some additions to my Itunes today which include songs that remind me of laying by my pool last summer (Kid Rock, Pink and Beyonce), or the people I have met along the way (Bringing Sexy Back for Abbie), or my boyfriend (Toes by the Zac Brown Band).
In order to know where you are going you need to know where you came from.
For the weekend Project Organize Itunes is put on hold while I attend Celebrating Men, Satisfying Women with the intention of stopping emasculating men and learing what it means to feminine. www.effectivewomen.com
I will blog about the seminar. In the meantime, I have a few questions for you. What does your ipod say about you? What story does it tell?
My plane landed at John Wayne Airport (yes that is the name of the OC airport) and I felt lost in every area of my life.
A little over a year and half ago my company offered me a promotion in Newport Beach, CA. I moved brimming with possibility and the idea that I could reinvent myself. I had not played any part...except I relocated for the role I had been cast which was my job. I became my job. My identity was my job and very little else. I let my job dictate to me who I was. To be responsible I never committed to living in California presently so I put very little effort building or creating a life. Moreover, I stopped doing the things that nurtured me like knitting and reading.
By January, my anxiety was getting the better of me. As side symptom of ADD, I get anxious and sometimes have full blown panic attacks. I felt disconnected from myself. I had to do something. I wanted to be peaceful.
Step number one was to take care of myself. I started to demand of myself that I get no less than 7 hours of sleep a night.
The next thing was to make a doctors appointment and start medication for my ADD.
In taking those two actions, the fog started to lift. I began to become present to all the unworkablity around me that I had either caused or ignored. I wanted to be peaceful.
Here we are in March and I have the opportunity to take the next step in my path to self-discovery. I am no longer working so I am no longer my job. I now sit in my apartment with a lot of free time asking myself questions like who am I and what is next for me? What do I want? When should I eat lunch?
Strangely related to this inquiry is for the first time in over 2 years I have access to my Itunes music library. Music has always been something I relate to a time, a memory and/or a feeling. For New Years 2004, I created a five hour-long play list chronologically retelling the year through song. I am personally attached to my collection. Today, I spent hours cleaning it up and discovering what’s there. Doing so it is like reading (or rather listening to) my biography. Air Supply’s Making Love Out of Nothing At All reminds me of my friend Amy and my History Teacher Walt Gawkowski, who had a freakish obsession with the band. I have two versions of Desperado (Linda Ronstadt and The Eagles) and You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away (The Beetles and Eddie Vedder) from the years I was “sorta seeing” a commitment challenged, Pearl Jam loving, trader (and yes I wrote years). I ripped Ani DiFranco’s Fixing Her Hair, Bette Midler’s The Girl in Onto You, and I’ll Never Fall in Love Again (Elvis Costello and Burt Bacharack) when that train wreck of a relationship concluded. I downloaded Wish You Were Here because it reminds me of Redmond’s, an establishment I went to my first year at DePaul. I purchased Maggie May for my roommate and her significantly younger boyfriend. Each song tells my history and evokes a recollection of the past. It brings me a little closer to who I was. And it is a giant missing that I haven’t had access or added to it in over 2 years. It is like I have musical amnesia. So now is the time to take all those unknown pieces of me and create a new play list telling the tale of life in 2010. I made some additions to my Itunes today which include songs that remind me of laying by my pool last summer (Kid Rock, Pink and Beyonce), or the people I have met along the way (Bringing Sexy Back for Abbie), or my boyfriend (Toes by the Zac Brown Band).
In order to know where you are going you need to know where you came from.
For the weekend Project Organize Itunes is put on hold while I attend Celebrating Men, Satisfying Women with the intention of stopping emasculating men and learing what it means to feminine. www.effectivewomen.com
I will blog about the seminar. In the meantime, I have a few questions for you. What does your ipod say about you? What story does it tell?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Cold Beers and Diet Coke as well as Frozen Pizza
I bought a black-market refrigerator. Or it might as well be.
Landlords in So Cal do not supply refrigerators. Huh? Yep, odd but true. Even stranger is people native to this area think it is normal to have to move the large necessary appliance. I have heard of people in Manhattan who’s showers are located in their kitchen...that seems more normal than renters have to furnish their own fridge.
When I moved to OC I had many concerns. One of which was a refrigerator. How was I going to keep my beer and diet coke chilled and my pizza frozen when I wanted to buy a new couch but I might be stuck having to purchase a large cooling device. So I went to my favorite website at the time Craigslist Orange County and typed in Fridge as an item to purchase. I was stunned by the results. So many to choose from in make, model, size, and price point. Literally, hundreds of used refrigerator which put my mind at ease that I would not have to head to the nearest Sears. For example, today I did the same search and stopped counting at 36 posted today.
Finally it is move in day from my new apartment. I run over to get the keys and sign for the delivery of my red leather couch. I opted not to buy a fridge until I had residence of the apartment because most vendors on Craigslist seem to have an urgency to make the deal. Also, for $30 a month I can rent one. I once again search the available items and find a unit for $100 that must be sold that day. I call the college student who is cleaning out her storage unit and arrange pick up. I call my coworker Rob who has a Pickup truck and a refrigerator dolly. Having to move a fridge is such a common occurrence that people own dollies. Rob gets lost coming to pick me up and we are on a time crunch to get to the place before it closes. We make it there with minutes to spare. I hand the girl cash as we load my purchase and off we go. Mind you, I did not even check to see if it worked just handed some lady my money and took the goods. It was a nice fairly new fridge pretty, she was moving in with her boyfriend and they did not need two of them. She seemed honest.
We head back to my place to unload the fridge. Everything is going great. We measure the opening. We are sliding the fridge in but then it seems to get stuck. We push. And push some more. The fridge stops moving. The wall must be bowed. Great, now there is a large hole in the wall. Nice. And I do not have a way to keep my beer and diet coke chilled and pizza frozen. Oh and there is a fridge in the middle of my teeny tiny kitchen. Lovely.
That was on Sunday.
Back to Craigslist I go to buy another used refrigerator and sell the one I have. Oh, this poster is buying and selling. This might be the ticket, as he appears to be a fridge broker. I contact him. He calls me back. I tell him I have a good fridge but it doesn’t fit and I am interested in the 18 inch. He will sell me a “new” one that fits the criteria, buy mine drop off and pick up for $75.00. I am paying him to downgrade to a smaller older appliance. But beers and diet coke have got to be cool and pizza has to be frozen.
A rainy Thursday Night in December, the underground Kenmore salesman calls me. It is time to make the drop. I start to get worried because really who sells/purchases large kitchen items at 11:00 at night in the rain in a geographical location where rain is rare. What do I really know about this person? This could be a front for some sort of serial killer. I better bring Rob. Everything was legit (as legit as a Fridgidaire purchase and a Whirlpool sale from the back of a pick up truck can be).
All is well. I now have a lovely, no frills Hotpoint fridge with coils in the back. I think my mom and dad might have owned it in their first apartment. I am not energy efficient and probably pay through the nose to electricity but at least the beer and diet coke is cool and the pizza is frozen.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Sunday was not Funday
Today, I got inspired to tackle tasks I have been avoiding. Primarily transfer my Itunes from my old computer and pictures from my digital camera onto my laptop. In order to do this I have to get on a bus and go the Staples, which is ok because I really need a case for the computer too. I dig out the coupons they gave me when I purchased it. I finally make it to the store. Ooh, pens. I need pens. I really like Uniballs. Staples is a big store and I will not bore you with my ADD aisle by aisle however, I never knew that Staples could offer such an outlet for impulse shopping. They make these cute little skins for like everything. At one point I had to go back and get a basket because I could not hold everything in my arms. I make my way to the cable aisle…I ask the guy what I need. I explain to him that I need to move the Itunes from my old computer that I bought in 2000 to my new laptop. After a few questions I learn that Belkin makes any easy transfer cable that allows one to move things from XP to Windows 7. Easy Peasy. Check out time. In line I decide that the wireless mouse can wait which means I don’t need the mouse pad. And I don’t need the case and the skin. The skin is cute but the bag is more practical. I still need the pens.
Back home. Soon I will have access to my 5000 plus songs. Crap. I have to download software on to the OLD computer. I don’t have a monitor. I don’t know if it is possible to tether it to my laptop. If it is possible I have no idea how to do that. Oy Vey. This is supposed to be easy. I will have to call my friend Brian tomorrow to see what I need to do. I really wanted to be able to do this myself. Such is life. Ok, well all is not lost. I still have the camera. Find camera. Check. Find USB cable for camera. Check. Download the software. Hold. Not compatible with Windows 7. Crap. Wait, all might not be lost I just bought a cable to transfer things from XP to 7. Oh, did I download the software on that computer? I don’t know. Well, if I did not I will have to hope someone has a solution. I don’t even know where the disk is.
So here I sit with more cords attached to my computer than ICU patient. A large CPU circa 2000 which has a drive for floppies and is nothing more than a large storage for my music. No Itunes and no pictures. I know that it will all get resolved but it is more than a average annoyance.
As I have mentioned in pervious blogs, I have ADD and partially finished projects drive me nuts. Every unfinished chore brings up a swell of memories and validates my disempowering conversation about myself that I am a screw up (again this is a family friendly blog). On the surface it seems like an innocent minor breakdown. To me it is a validation of every crummy thing educators and the like said to and about me when I was growing up. I am reminded of getting yelled at for not doing my homework or not doing it correctly. Mostly, I just feel like a big failure because I cannot complete something that seems so simple.
Back home. Soon I will have access to my 5000 plus songs. Crap. I have to download software on to the OLD computer. I don’t have a monitor. I don’t know if it is possible to tether it to my laptop. If it is possible I have no idea how to do that. Oy Vey. This is supposed to be easy. I will have to call my friend Brian tomorrow to see what I need to do. I really wanted to be able to do this myself. Such is life. Ok, well all is not lost. I still have the camera. Find camera. Check. Find USB cable for camera. Check. Download the software. Hold. Not compatible with Windows 7. Crap. Wait, all might not be lost I just bought a cable to transfer things from XP to 7. Oh, did I download the software on that computer? I don’t know. Well, if I did not I will have to hope someone has a solution. I don’t even know where the disk is.
So here I sit with more cords attached to my computer than ICU patient. A large CPU circa 2000 which has a drive for floppies and is nothing more than a large storage for my music. No Itunes and no pictures. I know that it will all get resolved but it is more than a average annoyance.
As I have mentioned in pervious blogs, I have ADD and partially finished projects drive me nuts. Every unfinished chore brings up a swell of memories and validates my disempowering conversation about myself that I am a screw up (again this is a family friendly blog). On the surface it seems like an innocent minor breakdown. To me it is a validation of every crummy thing educators and the like said to and about me when I was growing up. I am reminded of getting yelled at for not doing my homework or not doing it correctly. Mostly, I just feel like a big failure because I cannot complete something that seems so simple.
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