Little anxieties

I've been to a psychiatrist once in my life.  It was about two years ago when I was on Accutane. After seeing a barrage of commercials which linked Accutane use to potential increase in suicide risk, John wanted me to see somebody. In retrospect, it would be humorous if those Accutane/suicide link commercials were something created by the pharmaceuticial makers and American Psychiatry Association---some kind of conspiracy to further increase the amount of Americans on meds.

The psychiatrist... His dark-framed glasses and sweater stand out in my memory; I can't recall if the sweater featured elbow patches, but I wouldn't doubt it. At the end of the session, during which I cried profusely in regard to hatred toward my mother, he gave me a prescription---for another therapist. He concluded that I did not need to be medicated but that, indeed, I definitely would benefit from talking my problems out with someone.

I still have the prescription on my fridge, just because I thought it was hilarious---getting a prescription to see someone else.

Anxiety. Although my constantly low blood pressure might make it seem like I have little anxiety, that's absolutely false. I just try to avoid situations where I know I will be anxious (rush hour traffic, "peak" times at stores and shopping centers, communicating with my mother, etc).

When I feel anxious, there are a few common reactions: crying hysterically and biting my nails.

We're having the New Year's party on Saturday and I am definitely feeling stressed. I've been trying to clean the rooms of the house, all of which contains pile of MY stuff. I found some items that could be classified as "historic": my 2004 teacher ID card, an ice cream store gift certificate from 2007 (I WILL be going and checking the gift card's validity sometime soon), souvenirs that I bought for friends on my 2006 trip to Montana, and so on.

Most of all, I found tons of photo frames, about a dozen--all unfilled. I filled the frames and then felt anxiety about displaying them and hanging them up. This is a commonality with me--I have this odd anxiety about hanging stuff up on the wall. I guess it comes down to not wanting to hang something in the wrong spot and then leave a hole behind. So, in other words, I am fucking crazy:)

I did hang up a few things, include the custom-made watercolor painting of the Flash (comic hero, not our former cat) that John had his friend make.

And I didn't hysterically cry or bite my nails while hanging things up...Anxiety over hanging things up---seems ridiculously lame when I read over my typed words...

Progress. Progress.....

Hoarders also host parties

So, we are hosting a New Year's Eve party this Saturday. My friend Jen asked, "What's your menu,?" to which I replied, "Pizza and beer." I'll have more items beyond that but, honestly, my friends are not Hoboken yuppies who are expecting homemade sushi and complicated cocktails. Food for the event is fairly easy. Decorations are definitely easy--and something I actually am looking forward to.

There does remain one stumbling block though: a clutter-free house.

When I watch episodes of Hoarders, I sometimes do see a little bit of myself within the people on the show. I too don't always throw boxes away because, hey, you may need them sometime. The 2 bucks you'd have to pay for a USPS box dominates over the space that boxes will take up in one's home. Also, I definitely do hold onto some items for sentimental reasons. It took about 3 times of playing trash-tug-of-war before I finally threw out my black Converse shoes. They were filthy and the laces were shredded to pieces, but my reason for wanting to keep them was that I wore them on my honeymoon and they had "red dirt" from Kaui on them. Kind of ridiculous reasoning, when I think in retrospect.

Today, I ALMOST threw out my red/black patterned sarong style skirt. I have had this skirt for about 9 years and haven't worn it because it is "wrap style" and I fear having a wardrobe malfunction while wearing it. However, I want to keep it because I like the pattern and...that's about it.

John is taking our myriad of boxes to the recycling center today. I am going to work on organizing a bag of clothing and books for Good Will. One step at a time, as they say...

Fuck it-I'll donate the sarong skirt. I've owned the skirt for 1/3 of my life and have never worn it...it needs to be donated:)

But...here's a photo...for posterity. Actually, now that I look at the pattern, it's definitely matronly... not what I want to look like in my life, at this point.

Mall Men

The past two days have been thoroughly entertaining, from a sociological standpoint. Going to the mall, Walmart, and various other shopping venues, I have been amused by the different shopping methods of males and females.

When it comes to shopping, women "graze." Even if we wait until the last minute, our last minute is at least 7 days before Christmas. We tend to scope out the various gift options, going from store to store, but not immediately buying anything. We take several days to get the git buying task complete and then go on the quest for little trinkets or doodads to add to the gifts when we wrap them. We'll go into a gigantic store to buy a single hologram ribbon or some other "individualized" item.

When it comes to shopping, men wait until the last possible moment. Conceptually, they attempt to get as many gifts in as few stores as possible. Many of them have a blank look across their faces, comparable to the ubiquitous "deer in the headlights" look. Whereas women will shop around for the best possible prices, men will frantically grab items off the shelves, willing to pay whatever they have to pay because they realize they procrastinated. Most interesting is the line inside various jewelry stores. I know nothing about jewelry, but I'd think that buying jewelry in a smaller town store would be significantly better than some chain store like Helzberg. If you walk past mall jewelry stores, you see men huddled inside... carefully deciding between which piece of jewelry to get. Inevitably, about 50% of the men will just succumb to buying the trendy "love" necklace of the season. A few years ago it was the "past, present, future" diamonds. Then the "infinity circle" arrived. More recently was the half-heart pendant, which our family dubbed "the turd necklace." I've always said I have wanted a heart locket necklace, but something tells me that in reality I would find that gift monumentally cheesy and lackluster.

There's also always the amusement of the stone-faced men who have been dragged along on shopping ventures with their wives or girlfriends. These men look like they are being put through some modern-day form of punishment. Best are the men who sit in the "comfy" chairs while their spouses try on clothing.

Secret Santa Sucks

Every year, we have Secret Santa at work. This is the third year I have participated; it's also the third year that I have been disappointed with the final gift. All three years have ended with the final gift being a gift card. One year was a Kohl's card, the next was Barnes and Noble, and this year was Dunkin' Donuts. I filled out the Secret Santa likes/dislikes list pretty well---not too thoroughly to seem like a pain in the ass---but just enough information so that someone could have fun shopping for me. Each year, the activity ends in the same result: I get chocolates, gummi bears, FOOD, and a final gift card that says (in my mind), "You're a pain to shop for."

When I think about people shopping for me, I don't think I am that difficult of a person to shop for. I do have some quirks with clothing, but I do have some other terrain where there is utmost freedom. The quirks with clothing include a few things that I immensely dislike. I hate white anything. I dislike brand names being on the outer part of clothing. I only like pants that have pockets on the ass, work pants included. Pants sans ass pockets just make me feel like I look heavier. I also dislike pink, yellow, and anything light colored. Basically, I am an insecure emo kid.

My likes are fun though---wacky earrings ---I'll wear anything on my ears... Any scarf will suffice too. Scarves and earrings of any kind...that's a broad range of things.

And I end up with the Dunkin Donuts card... Agh. I spend time for Secret Santa, composing "clue poems" and making sure to buy actual gifts... and in return, end up with someone basically saying, "Hey, go get yourself some coffee and doughnuts."

Also... the lamest part...this year's Secret Santa was the vice-principal...

Join the masses

Typically, my Sundays do not feature a huge list of errands to do. However, no matter how little I have to accomplish, crowds always seem to be part of the day.

Today I have to go food shopping at Costco (sheer madness--- John generally goes midweek--- to go food shopping on a Sunday is pure masochism). I have to finish Amy's Christmas gift, a photo album of tons of pictures of us. This requires me to go to Walmart or another "discount store" and use their photo machine. Places like that are PACKED today. Furthermore, the photo copy kiosks tend to get crowded around this time of the year. I have 10, maximum, photos to copy. Other people will be standing at the machine, printing out photos from the dawn of time. I also have to go to Michael's to get some minor crafting supplies for making ornaments.

None of the above tasks are particularly time-consuming, but the fact that the masses are out today is what makes the tasks significantly more miserable.

I have always said that it is not as if I am claustrophobic or anything, but I just really detest crowds. Guess it makes perfect sense that I continue to live my life in the nation's most densely populated state.....

Roving eyes, but otherwise civil behavior

I went to the school's chorus concert tonight. The crowd's behavior was definitely better than it was during last week's band concert. I, however, was in the 4th row this time, whereas last time, I was among the (what is seemed) dregs of society in the back of the gym.

There was one point during the show when some of the dancers from a previous number came back out onto the risers, to sing with the rest of the chorus. A few of these girls had on extremely short skirts. The short skirts were black and contrasted with the either tan legs (from ladylike leggings or stockings) or bare, pale legs. As the girls, got onto the risers to perform the next song, I could see a small group of 8th grade boys' eyes moving with the girls' bodies.

I had a "mom moment" too; all I kept thinking was, If my daughter wore something like that and, simultaneously, If my son's eyes roved like that. At least, the eye roving seems more natural and "acceptable." I can't take the inappropriate clothing.

I guess I should just assume, at this juncture, that John and I will have an only child who is socially awkward and probably needs to be homeschooled because her mother will be nuts:)

Me VS. Pink

For as long as I can remember, I've disliked the color pink. I can't really pinpoint a specific reason for my detest of the color, but I can pinpoint three specific instances in which I experienced actual detest.

1. The pink Easter dress--- in third grade, I recall an instance where my mother was purchasing Easter dresses for Amy and me. This was when we still had some semblance of religious beliefs and before I was smart enough to ask, "If there is a god, why would he make such horrible things happen to people?" We were in Kmart, I recall that specifically. I wanted this knee length dress; it had satin material and lace material over the satin layer. There was a thick satin ribbon in the middle of the dress that tied around the back. I loved that dress...in pale blue. My mother allowed me to get the dress, but I had to get it in the pink shade. I truly think this experience simultaneously cemented my hatred for pink and for my mother.

2. The bubble gum sweatsuit--- Maybe it was because I was a fat child and buying elastic waisted pants and cotton tops are easier than "regular" clothes. Maybe it was because someone in the family thought the outfit was "cute." For a Christmas gift, I received a sweatsuit set. The top portion was a pink sweatshirt with a gumball machine smack dab in the middle. The pants were also pink with brightly colored gumballs up and down the legs. This sweatsuit was horrible --- comparable to the pink bunny outfit that Ralphie has to wear in Christmas Story. I'd say that someone else out there must be able to relate, but surely no one else has family members that would buy her such an atrocious outfit...and embarrassing too...I was in 5th grade!

3. Bedroom walls--- Since childhood, the bedroom walls of the house where I grew up were a shade of pink. The walls were technically a pale mauve, but the shade was close enough to pink to warrant my loathing. When I was in high school, I loved the black and white magazine ads that were trendy for brands like Guess and Calvin Klein. My bedroom walls were covered with various photos, artistic advertisements, and anything else that would shroud the pink underneath.  Most of the photos were of male models. In retrospect, my bedroom must have been a frightening place for any teenage boy...not that there were many in my bedroom...just one.

Adulthood has made me accept pink a slight bit more. Hot pink is okay for 80s concerts, but for any other occasion...it's still dreadful.

Long haired guys

I guess I quite like long-haired men. One would never know it because every guy I have dated has had regular length hair, however, long hair usually is reserved for specific groups of men: earthy hippies and musicians...neither of which I have technically dated.

Clay Matthews. Gigantic beastly build with huge arms. That's not what gets me though. The long blonde hair. It's just awesome. I don't think I would "look good" with a guy that looked like Matthews, but I guess in the realm of fantasizing or "crushin' " that appearance compatibility does not matter.

Last night, we went to see Kyuss Lives. One of the opening bands was a doom metal band called Sword. I didn't like the music too much--- a bit too loud for my tastes (which translates into "please lower the thrashing guitars and increase the nice drum beat")---but I was entranced by the guitarist. I only realized he was the guitarist after Googling the band; last night, I was stuck as to whether he was the bassist or guitarist. I don't know the difference.

Anyway, the guitarist was tall and had a medium build. He had a SLIGHT paunch, but nothing too noticeable. Obviously, he is the type of guy who does not have to work out, but still keeps a fairly good build. His hair was long and blonde, flipping back and forth in front of his face as he played. I was awed by how the swaying hair did not break his concentration. I mean, if you're in the middle of playing doom metal, I guess strands of hair in your face do not affect you...but I was just all the more entranced.

After the band played, John asked what I thought of them. I replied, "Eh, they were ok, but the guitar player with the long hair was hot." He had no idea who I was talking about, despite the fact that ALL of the other band members had shoulder length and shorter hair. He was entranced by the music more than the musicians' looks:)

On the way to the parking garage, we actually saw the guitarist on the streets of Montclair. John complimented him on his band's performance and the guy nodded his head, acknowledging the praise. As he walked further away, John yelled down the street, "My wife thinks you're hot too!"

:)

Decline of Civilization

Last night, I went to the school's band concert. Walking into the gym area (where the "stage" was set up) was a bit of a downer. Only about 50% of the chairs were filled. I arrived just as the "Star Spangled Banner" was playing; I entered by the gym's back entrance and sat in one of back rows. I basically occupied the last "person-filled"row. Behind me, there was about 20 other empty rows.

Apparently, during school band concerts, the back area of the gym is representative of the utter decline of civilization. A few rows ahead a little girl swayed back and forth, while standing, on an aluminum chair. I kept worrying about her falling over. Moreso, I worried how I would have to react since I was sitting so nearby. I am not too effective in emergency situations.

On the bleachers sat a child without a parent in sight. He was playing on a portable video game device. Rude enough, yes, but the game's volume was actually quite high. I could hear the PSP's noise even over the band's rendition of "Iron Man."

Also, a few rows near me, there was a woman who seemed to be rubbing the back of her son's head. She kept rubbing his head and seemed to be intertwining strands of his hair. There seemed to exist two possibilities explaining her odd behavior. She was either braiding small strands of his hair OR checking his hair for insects or parasites, much like a tribal member of yore. 

Additionally, there was this man, thin and with a small moustache, who kept frantically waving to one of the children in the band. At one point, this man did some pseudo-sign language and gestured toward himself, mouthing, "I love you" with great emphasis. 

Furthermore, throughout the concert, there was continuously some sort of noise or background chatter going on. 

It's just disturbing...and this behavior from a supposed "affluent" community. Affluence is obviously not synonymous with civility or class.

New Ad Slogans

During Christmas time, stores' inventories are overwrought with utter junk. The person who has room for a quesadilla maker, panini maker, waffle iron, and other kitchen accoutrements surely lives in a mansion and does not need those things because he/she has maid service.  Any other person does not need those items because he/she does not have the room for them.

There are some phenomenally stupid gift ideas this Christmas. Somehow, whenever I have seen or heard advertisements for these items, my own carefully crafted alternate ad slogans have instead entered my mind:

1. Pajamagram- what to get for the spouse you no longer want to have sex with

2. Babycakes Cupcake Maker- for the stupid person in your life

3. Vitamin and aloe infused socks- really?

4. Genie Bra- when you're too lazy to put on a real bra

I can't make too much fun of the Genie bra... we had "twin day" at work and a colleague and I dressed up. We decided to wear white shirts, gray cardigans, black pants, black shoes, and green/blue plaid scarves. In other words, we were dressed up as conservative white women. I needed "flesh tone" for under the white shirt, so went and purchased the Genie bra. It's pretty awesome...like a sports bra, but makes it actually look like you have breasts. However, yes, I am too lazy to put on "real" undergarments with hooks and straps.

Livestrong

I spazzed out at John yesterday. The onslaught of words went something like this : "Yeah, I know I gained weight and I'll never be a smaller weight. And your whole family always says, 'John, you look great,' but you're a 32 year old majoring in Exercise Science so of course you will strive to look your best. Your cousin is healthy and is a marathon runner, but that's only because she is a former drug addict and needs something new to get addicted to."

Kind of a stream of consciousness....

I affirmed that I eat healthy, but eat huge portions. I also said that since I have felt crummy lately, I have basically taken healthy things and desecrated them by adding butter and sugar and/or cooking with copious amounts of canola oil.

We went onto the livestrong website and tracked my eating for the past two days. Breakfast and lunch were fine, but dinner was the bulk of my daily caloric intake. Dinner also featured large amounts of carbs. Fat intake was high, but mainly due to uncontrolled amounts of almonds.

John mapped out a food plan for me that makes it so I have more frequent snacks in the mid-day, thus (hopefully) off-setting my crazy night meals.

Today is day one. I have stuck to the breakfast meal plan. I'm even trying coffee without sugar.....

We'll see.