I don't recall having any violent or strange dreams last night. I did have a dream, however, that I was riding my favorite horse of all time, the horse I rode nearly 20 years ago now. I woke up feeling bittersweet. It was a lovely dream, but I also miss that horse dearly, and his memory still haunts me in a heartbreaking way.
Today I went to a party. I was only mildly successful in socializing. There was an old friend there. Or maybe you'd call him an acquaintance. I don't know, I spent more than one drunken night with him and sometimes in intimate settings. (Meaning, not very many people.) I can't say I ever got to know him exceedingly well, but I always liked him. He's a fun, likeable guy. For the last couple of years, whenever I run into him, I still feel comfortable around him, but I think he doesn't feel comfortable around me. I don't know why. He's polite and chats a bit but then he always finds an excuse to scoot away. I feel like he's avoiding me. It could be one of two things, I believe. 1.) Every time we hung out before, he was pretty blitzed. Since then he's sobered up a bit and quit smoking cigs. So maybe the situations I've encountered him in, he's just not as liquored up as he used to be, and is more socially awkward than I remember. Or 2.) I've somehow offended him in some way. Apparently, I am REALLY GOOD at accidentally offending people. Which is pretty ironic because I am so painfully self-conscious and always trying too hard not to do/say the wrong thing. Often I don't even find out about my accidental offenses until months or years later. Or never.
And of course one of our buddies who's all into kids tried to talk us into having some of our own. "These things are great!" That's his whole argument. He'd been carrying around someone else's kid in his arms for like two hours and the child had been completely silent the entire time, practically comatose. The thing started wailing the second he got near me. For a moment I thought my friend was going to try to hand me the kid and I involuntarily flinched.
Other than that it was the usual horseshoes, beers and leftover food. (We make it a point to be ultra-fashionably late.)
Is it bad if you don't feel like you've "gotten started" until the 5th beer?
Essentially I got nothing done today whatsoever.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Dehydration + Depression = 16 hour sleepfest
So yesterday I had a riding lesson in the hot, hot sun. I was doing fine, but when I jumped off, I realized... I think I'm going to faint. My heart was beating superfast and I felt like I couldn't catch my breath. I was boiling hot - I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust. I didn't faint, but I was awfully close. I realized I hadn't drank a lot of water that day, or the day before for that matter. I procured two Gatorades and drank both and felt less like I was going to die, but still pretty unwell. I spent the rest of the day and night on the couch.
I thought I felt better around 10 pm and decided to get up and join my fiance at a party. When I got there, though, I felt really antisocial and sat down in a corner. I was pretty sure I was emanating some pretty ugly vibes, but I figured my mood would improve after a beer or two and all would be well. But then some guy with a foreign accent who was like 50 or something came over and put his hand on my my shoulder. "Miss, you're alone." Um, yeah, thanks for pointing that out. "You allright?" Yes. Then he proceeded to say some stuff I couldn't understand. I gave him a weird look and pointed over towards my fiance and said "I'm fine, thank you" and he said some more stuff I couldn't understand and went away.
I don't know why but that really enraged me. First of all, why can't I sit alone for five minutes? I was reading an interesting article about Ernest Hemingway on my ipod. (I'm not cool enough or rich enough to have an actual smartphone.) Maybe wherever this guy comes from, women are not supposed to be unescorted and that's why he was so concerned? I don't fucking know. Yes, I tend to turn a lot of innocent situations into feminist arguments. Secondly, OK, let's say he just saw an opportunity of a young woman sitting alone. Why is it that only old, unattractive people approach me? Oh, and lesbians. I never get hit on by any cute, straight male anywhere near my age. This really fucks with my self-esteem. Thank god I'm engaged because I really don't know how single people manage.
Anyways, that was that and I decided I had to get out of there. My fiance was a bit taken aback that I was taking off five minutes after getting there but I just wasn't in the mood.
Turned out I didn't really want to go home, though. So for about 45 minutes I just drove around aimlessly. I felt as though I wanted to go somewhere different, go on an adventure. I realized that I spend 99% or more of my life in three places: Home, Work, and the bar. We never go anywhere do anything different. I cried for a while, feeling sorry for myself. I tried calling some people but I don't have a lot of friends and it was 1 am on a holiday weekend and no one answered.
For the last few days I've been feeling really anxious and depressed. I read an article about a guy who killed himself and in the days leading up to his death he told his parents "My world is shrinking." Somehow that phrase really resonated with me.
So eventually I went home, went to sleep, and proceeded to stay asleep or mostly asleep for about 16 hours. I got up at 5 pm.
Usually I feel pretty terrible when I do this. Terrible physically, and also despair over the fact that I do such things. I usually wail "I am sleeping my life away." But today I don't feel as much despair. Because I had a lot of dreams, and I enjoyed them. I kept waking up but kept going back to sleep because I was having more fun in my dreams than I do in my real life. I know I'm going to be awake all night, but that's OK because that's the best time to write. And I thought, this isn't a curse. It's just who I am. Perhaps this is just what I'm meant to do, this is how I'm meant to live. Sleep all day, write all night. It's what I would do naturally if I wasn't forced to adhere to a "proper" schedule.
Last night when I got the hell out of that party, I was reminded that I am naturally a solitary person. I do enjoy company, but in limited bursts, and I'm very picky about who it is.
Anyways, I had a lot of dreams and some of them were nice and some were pretty fucked up. I'm not going to be able to remember all of them but I'll forget them entirely if I'm don't write them down now.
********************************************************************************
I was running in a park, on nice wooded trails. There was someone I was trying to avoid, someone I didn't want to run into because it would be an awkward conversation. It was a physically vivid dream, and the running was effortless. I was so excited because for the first time since I'd started jogging/running, I had reached a fitness level where I felt like I could just keep running forever. I didn't have to stop after 3 minutes or 5 minutes or 10 minutes. I could sustain the running, and I just wanted to keep running.
I stopped when I saw some people standing around looking at something. They suspected a crime had taken place. We banded together to look around, and found an abandoned school. We ended up in some locker rooms, which we noticed were "gender neutral" locker rooms (how we knew that, I don't know) and we thought that was kind of odd, no one had ever heard of such a thing. The place was creepy indeed.
One clue led to another (that part is vague), and we ended up at a creepy old house. It was dusk, and the sky was overcast and had a weird color. We went inside and there were a bunch of people standing around in a circle. The walls of the house had that disgusting yellow look from cigarette smoking. The light inside was dim and the figures were muted silouettes. We wondered what they were all standing around looking at. They were ignoring us, so we got closer to look. They were standing around a bed. On one side lay a very old, sick woman. On the other side there was a crib or a washbin or something. It was full of water. There was a tall thin man standing next to the bed on the side with the bin. He was holding a baby, that was half-wrapped in swaddling. It's arms were free. The man was reciting some strange incantations, and then he put the baby in the washbin, and held it underwater. The baby struggled, his arms flailed, but he was of course totally helpless. The incantations continued. Only the man recited, the viewers were silent.
As the baby stopped struggling, a ball of light came out of his mouth, lifted up from the water, and floated over to the old woman. The light went into her mouth, and she gasped loudly and sat up. She still looked old, but she was much more lively and didn't look sick. Me and my newfound friends were just staring, mouths agape, and she looked right at us and said, "What? You never seen a witch before?"
******************************************************************************
I was at work, and closing up the office. I hadn't locked the front door yet though, and an old beat up Cadillac pulled up right next to the door. The person inside looked as though he was rummaging around for something. He probably needed to pay his account. I told my coworker I was going to shoo him away. I went to the front door to lock it and called out towards the car, "I'm sorry, sir, we're closed" and when he looked up it was Norm McDonald. (Apparently, in this dream, I was acquainted with him.) "Oh, hi Norm! Come on in!" He replied "really? You let old creepy old men in after you're closed? What kind of establishment is this?" I laughed and said, "Only a few certain creepy old men, Norm, we're very selective here."
We chatted as he paid his bill and that's when I realized that I had a bit of crush on Norm. I decided to be rather bold and asked him what he was doing afterwards. He was going to some kind of party and I basically invited myself. He looked really confused, and I was hoping that he was just surprised and flattered that I was hitting on him.
****************************************************************************
My fiance and I were on some kind of trip, riding on a coach bus. The bus was going through a small city, and started making a sharp turn. Then, something felt wrong. The bus was leaning really hard around the corner. Everyone started to gasp and then it felt like a tire blew out and it started tipping even more. My fiance said "We're going over!" and the bus started to fall onto its side. Luckily we were seat-belted, but not everyone was. The bus not only fell onto its side, but rolled a couple more times. People were falling every which way and screaming. I pressed my eyes shut, hoping that we would just come to a stop and not fall over a cliff or catch on fire or something. The bus eventually plopped to a stop. I called out for everyone to move carefully and slowly because we didn't know where we had landed. I inched towards a window and saw were high up in the sky. Apparently the bus had been makings its way to the top of a parking garage when it had flipped, and we had gone over the edge and landed on the roof of another building. People were hurt, so I had to go get help. I managed to get through an emergency door or an open window, and found myself inside an apartment building. A really sketchy one, filled with prostitutes and drug dealers. They were looking at me like I had two heads as I tried to find my way to a stairwell to get the hell down and out of there.
*******************************************************************************
Edited: Later today, I went for a walk/jog and thought about the dream where I'd been running easily. And in fact, today I did run way longer than I've ever been able to. It did feel pretty effortless, at least until about the 20 minute mark. I guess the dream was good for something. Either it foretold my newfound ability, or I was able to do it because I believed I could. Either way, I was pretty proud of myself, it was a quite a milestone for me. Pretty soon I'm going to be one of those annoying people you see jogging around looking all fit and trim. Is it wrong to WANT people to hate you?
I thought I felt better around 10 pm and decided to get up and join my fiance at a party. When I got there, though, I felt really antisocial and sat down in a corner. I was pretty sure I was emanating some pretty ugly vibes, but I figured my mood would improve after a beer or two and all would be well. But then some guy with a foreign accent who was like 50 or something came over and put his hand on my my shoulder. "Miss, you're alone." Um, yeah, thanks for pointing that out. "You allright?" Yes. Then he proceeded to say some stuff I couldn't understand. I gave him a weird look and pointed over towards my fiance and said "I'm fine, thank you" and he said some more stuff I couldn't understand and went away.
I don't know why but that really enraged me. First of all, why can't I sit alone for five minutes? I was reading an interesting article about Ernest Hemingway on my ipod. (I'm not cool enough or rich enough to have an actual smartphone.) Maybe wherever this guy comes from, women are not supposed to be unescorted and that's why he was so concerned? I don't fucking know. Yes, I tend to turn a lot of innocent situations into feminist arguments. Secondly, OK, let's say he just saw an opportunity of a young woman sitting alone. Why is it that only old, unattractive people approach me? Oh, and lesbians. I never get hit on by any cute, straight male anywhere near my age. This really fucks with my self-esteem. Thank god I'm engaged because I really don't know how single people manage.
Anyways, that was that and I decided I had to get out of there. My fiance was a bit taken aback that I was taking off five minutes after getting there but I just wasn't in the mood.
Turned out I didn't really want to go home, though. So for about 45 minutes I just drove around aimlessly. I felt as though I wanted to go somewhere different, go on an adventure. I realized that I spend 99% or more of my life in three places: Home, Work, and the bar. We never go anywhere do anything different. I cried for a while, feeling sorry for myself. I tried calling some people but I don't have a lot of friends and it was 1 am on a holiday weekend and no one answered.
For the last few days I've been feeling really anxious and depressed. I read an article about a guy who killed himself and in the days leading up to his death he told his parents "My world is shrinking." Somehow that phrase really resonated with me.
So eventually I went home, went to sleep, and proceeded to stay asleep or mostly asleep for about 16 hours. I got up at 5 pm.
Usually I feel pretty terrible when I do this. Terrible physically, and also despair over the fact that I do such things. I usually wail "I am sleeping my life away." But today I don't feel as much despair. Because I had a lot of dreams, and I enjoyed them. I kept waking up but kept going back to sleep because I was having more fun in my dreams than I do in my real life. I know I'm going to be awake all night, but that's OK because that's the best time to write. And I thought, this isn't a curse. It's just who I am. Perhaps this is just what I'm meant to do, this is how I'm meant to live. Sleep all day, write all night. It's what I would do naturally if I wasn't forced to adhere to a "proper" schedule.
Last night when I got the hell out of that party, I was reminded that I am naturally a solitary person. I do enjoy company, but in limited bursts, and I'm very picky about who it is.
Anyways, I had a lot of dreams and some of them were nice and some were pretty fucked up. I'm not going to be able to remember all of them but I'll forget them entirely if I'm don't write them down now.
********************************************************************************
I was running in a park, on nice wooded trails. There was someone I was trying to avoid, someone I didn't want to run into because it would be an awkward conversation. It was a physically vivid dream, and the running was effortless. I was so excited because for the first time since I'd started jogging/running, I had reached a fitness level where I felt like I could just keep running forever. I didn't have to stop after 3 minutes or 5 minutes or 10 minutes. I could sustain the running, and I just wanted to keep running.
I stopped when I saw some people standing around looking at something. They suspected a crime had taken place. We banded together to look around, and found an abandoned school. We ended up in some locker rooms, which we noticed were "gender neutral" locker rooms (how we knew that, I don't know) and we thought that was kind of odd, no one had ever heard of such a thing. The place was creepy indeed.
One clue led to another (that part is vague), and we ended up at a creepy old house. It was dusk, and the sky was overcast and had a weird color. We went inside and there were a bunch of people standing around in a circle. The walls of the house had that disgusting yellow look from cigarette smoking. The light inside was dim and the figures were muted silouettes. We wondered what they were all standing around looking at. They were ignoring us, so we got closer to look. They were standing around a bed. On one side lay a very old, sick woman. On the other side there was a crib or a washbin or something. It was full of water. There was a tall thin man standing next to the bed on the side with the bin. He was holding a baby, that was half-wrapped in swaddling. It's arms were free. The man was reciting some strange incantations, and then he put the baby in the washbin, and held it underwater. The baby struggled, his arms flailed, but he was of course totally helpless. The incantations continued. Only the man recited, the viewers were silent.
As the baby stopped struggling, a ball of light came out of his mouth, lifted up from the water, and floated over to the old woman. The light went into her mouth, and she gasped loudly and sat up. She still looked old, but she was much more lively and didn't look sick. Me and my newfound friends were just staring, mouths agape, and she looked right at us and said, "What? You never seen a witch before?"
******************************************************************************
I was at work, and closing up the office. I hadn't locked the front door yet though, and an old beat up Cadillac pulled up right next to the door. The person inside looked as though he was rummaging around for something. He probably needed to pay his account. I told my coworker I was going to shoo him away. I went to the front door to lock it and called out towards the car, "I'm sorry, sir, we're closed" and when he looked up it was Norm McDonald. (Apparently, in this dream, I was acquainted with him.) "Oh, hi Norm! Come on in!" He replied "really? You let old creepy old men in after you're closed? What kind of establishment is this?" I laughed and said, "Only a few certain creepy old men, Norm, we're very selective here."
We chatted as he paid his bill and that's when I realized that I had a bit of crush on Norm. I decided to be rather bold and asked him what he was doing afterwards. He was going to some kind of party and I basically invited myself. He looked really confused, and I was hoping that he was just surprised and flattered that I was hitting on him.
****************************************************************************
My fiance and I were on some kind of trip, riding on a coach bus. The bus was going through a small city, and started making a sharp turn. Then, something felt wrong. The bus was leaning really hard around the corner. Everyone started to gasp and then it felt like a tire blew out and it started tipping even more. My fiance said "We're going over!" and the bus started to fall onto its side. Luckily we were seat-belted, but not everyone was. The bus not only fell onto its side, but rolled a couple more times. People were falling every which way and screaming. I pressed my eyes shut, hoping that we would just come to a stop and not fall over a cliff or catch on fire or something. The bus eventually plopped to a stop. I called out for everyone to move carefully and slowly because we didn't know where we had landed. I inched towards a window and saw were high up in the sky. Apparently the bus had been makings its way to the top of a parking garage when it had flipped, and we had gone over the edge and landed on the roof of another building. People were hurt, so I had to go get help. I managed to get through an emergency door or an open window, and found myself inside an apartment building. A really sketchy one, filled with prostitutes and drug dealers. They were looking at me like I had two heads as I tried to find my way to a stairwell to get the hell down and out of there.
*******************************************************************************
Edited: Later today, I went for a walk/jog and thought about the dream where I'd been running easily. And in fact, today I did run way longer than I've ever been able to. It did feel pretty effortless, at least until about the 20 minute mark. I guess the dream was good for something. Either it foretold my newfound ability, or I was able to do it because I believed I could. Either way, I was pretty proud of myself, it was a quite a milestone for me. Pretty soon I'm going to be one of those annoying people you see jogging around looking all fit and trim. Is it wrong to WANT people to hate you?
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
CitiCash = CrapCash
If you're thinking about getting a Citi card because you think that "CitiCash" means cashback rewards, don't. It's not cashback. It's a craptastic program of measly "discounts" on junky stuff.
I have $1500 in CitiCash. You would think that I could get perhaps a gift card or something for free. Oh no. I could get a $50 gift card for $45 (of real money, charged to my credit card, and $5 deducted from my CitiCash balance.) Wowee Zowee!! I'm blown away by the "savings"!
I have a different Citi card that DOES have a cashback rewards program. It turned out not to be implemented very well. I don't use it often, but bought it with me on vacation earlier this year. I came home and paid off the balance. Later, I got notified that I had earned $1.67 in cashback rewards. After the credit sat on my account for a couple of months, they decided to send it to me in the form of a check. Never asked me, just did it. (And it was badly timed, too, because I happened to make a $1 charge and thought, great, my credit will cover this, I won't have to remember to make a payment! Nope, turns out Citi could sense that something was going to work out just right, and processed the refund the day before I made that $1 charge.)
You know, Citi, my bank account is linked to the Citi account for electronic withdrawl. Maybe you could have sent it me electronically? Now I get to make a special trip to the bank to deposit my $1.67. YAY!!!
And I also have to remember to log back in so I can initiate a $1 payment to cover that random little charge.
The amount of work I am doing over approximately a dollar is ridiculous.
I have $1500 in CitiCash. You would think that I could get perhaps a gift card or something for free. Oh no. I could get a $50 gift card for $45 (of real money, charged to my credit card, and $5 deducted from my CitiCash balance.) Wowee Zowee!! I'm blown away by the "savings"!
I have a different Citi card that DOES have a cashback rewards program. It turned out not to be implemented very well. I don't use it often, but bought it with me on vacation earlier this year. I came home and paid off the balance. Later, I got notified that I had earned $1.67 in cashback rewards. After the credit sat on my account for a couple of months, they decided to send it to me in the form of a check. Never asked me, just did it. (And it was badly timed, too, because I happened to make a $1 charge and thought, great, my credit will cover this, I won't have to remember to make a payment! Nope, turns out Citi could sense that something was going to work out just right, and processed the refund the day before I made that $1 charge.)
You know, Citi, my bank account is linked to the Citi account for electronic withdrawl. Maybe you could have sent it me electronically? Now I get to make a special trip to the bank to deposit my $1.67. YAY!!!
And I also have to remember to log back in so I can initiate a $1 payment to cover that random little charge.
The amount of work I am doing over approximately a dollar is ridiculous.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Not cool, Target. Not cool.
I have a love/hate relationship with Target.
Good stuff, good prices
Shoppers and employees are not scary (unlike at Walmart)
I get 5% off every purchase with my Target card
Hate:
They do a poor job of clearly pricing clearance items
I spend too much money in there
They are screwing with my credit rating
Yes, the irresistible pull of Target is messing with my credit score. Not because I spend too much, or because I can't pay the bill, but because they won't raise my credit limit.
Years ago, I had a Target Visa. This was a regular Visa card you could use anywhere. I didn't use it enough, and it got shut down for inactivity.
Last year when they rolled out the "save 5% with your Redcard" program, I signed up for a new card. They don't have the Visa card anymore, just a store-only card. Fine, whatever. But they gave me a piddly $500 credit limit.
Recently we had to replace our TV (bought a cheapie flatscreen for like $150), I had to get new eyeglasses (about $250) and plus our regular household shopping.... and whoops, I have only $20 in credit remaining.
This sucks. I have essentially maxed out this card, which is BAD for your credit rating. You should keep balances under 30% on each credit line. This means that I have to keep my Target balance under $150 if I want to maintain my credit score. That's crazy talk!
I have worked very, very hard at achieving an excellent credit score after discovering in my early 20's that my mom was right... having piss-poor credit really sucks. It took me eight years of determined effort to work up to a very good credit score. It was difficult and it took soooo long, but now I am proud to have very good credit. So I take this shit seriously.
So I called Target customer service and asked them to raise my credit limit. I explained that I very much enjoy giving Target my money and pointed out that I have excellent credit and I have always paid my Target bills in full, on time. The lady said that they don't review accounts individually for credit increases. The computer sometimes reviews accounts for increases and it will happen automatically.
Every other credit card out there will raise your credit limit if you ask and you have good reason and good credit. Not Target, or whatever bank is servicing Target's accounts.
That's crazy talk!
Target, you're shooting yourself in the foot on this one. I want to spend money at your store but from now on I'm going to have to be very careful at limiting myself because I don't want to hurt my credit score.
You might ask why I don't just use another card, like a cashback card such as Discover. Yeah, I have those. But I like getting 5% off the top at the register with the RedCard.
Come on, Target. Get with it. Don't punish your best customers.
Also, the quality of your bras really needs an upgrade.
Jack of all trades, master of T-rexes
I like differentiation, and list-making. I like compartmentalization. That's why I have a credit card for each kind of expense (gas, food, discretionary purchases, business stuff). It's why we have something like 9 different bank accounts. It's also why I used to try to maintain five different journals (dreams, writing notes, personal, fitness, and equine activities) and several different blogs (writing, finance, horses, art.)
But you know, at some point, this system that supposed to make things easier begins to implode under its own weight. It becomes an entirely new and Herculean task to manage all of these different things. So, screw that. I'm one person and so I'm going to have one blog. A mishmashed, no-point blog. So without further ado, here's last night's dream:
I had another T-rex dream. Ever since I saw Jurassic Park when I was about 13, I have had re-occurring dreams where I'm being chased or hunted by a T-rex. Although it's extremely silly, because obviously T-rexes are not something you need to worry about in your daily life, but the dreams themselves are quite terrifying. I have no idea what they mean, or what the T-rex represents. My other re-occurring dreams include but are not limited to: tornados, levitation, and winning fistfights with street hobos.
Last night I dreamnt that this one T-rex had been hanging around my house for quite some time and for some reason was particularly interested in me and not other people. I was safe in the house, but couldn't really venture outside because he would come out of nowhere and go after me. Since he didn't really bother other people, it wasn't much of a concern to anyone except me. Most people didn't believe me that the T-rex would come for me if I went outside. They thought I was exaggerating about how he was gunning for me. (Kind of like how people don't believe that bees are always out to get me even though THEY TOTALLY ARE.)
I was persuaded into going outside by my fiance, and was quite far out into the backyard when, lo and behold, the T-rex appears from behind from trees. He's stealthy and quiet, that one. So I start running for the safety of the house. It was wintertime, and my fiance was scooping up snowballs and throwing them, to distract the T-rex. Apparently that had worked in the past, but the T-rex had gotten wise to it. So he ignored the snowballs completely and was focused on me. He caught up to me and was opening his jaws wide to eat me and I knew it was now or never. I managed to get one skillful jab into his eye and he cried and lurched backwards. It bought me just enough time to get in the house and slam the door in his face.
The end.
But you know, at some point, this system that supposed to make things easier begins to implode under its own weight. It becomes an entirely new and Herculean task to manage all of these different things. So, screw that. I'm one person and so I'm going to have one blog. A mishmashed, no-point blog. So without further ado, here's last night's dream:
I had another T-rex dream. Ever since I saw Jurassic Park when I was about 13, I have had re-occurring dreams where I'm being chased or hunted by a T-rex. Although it's extremely silly, because obviously T-rexes are not something you need to worry about in your daily life, but the dreams themselves are quite terrifying. I have no idea what they mean, or what the T-rex represents. My other re-occurring dreams include but are not limited to: tornados, levitation, and winning fistfights with street hobos.
Last night I dreamnt that this one T-rex had been hanging around my house for quite some time and for some reason was particularly interested in me and not other people. I was safe in the house, but couldn't really venture outside because he would come out of nowhere and go after me. Since he didn't really bother other people, it wasn't much of a concern to anyone except me. Most people didn't believe me that the T-rex would come for me if I went outside. They thought I was exaggerating about how he was gunning for me. (Kind of like how people don't believe that bees are always out to get me even though THEY TOTALLY ARE.)
I was persuaded into going outside by my fiance, and was quite far out into the backyard when, lo and behold, the T-rex appears from behind from trees. He's stealthy and quiet, that one. So I start running for the safety of the house. It was wintertime, and my fiance was scooping up snowballs and throwing them, to distract the T-rex. Apparently that had worked in the past, but the T-rex had gotten wise to it. So he ignored the snowballs completely and was focused on me. He caught up to me and was opening his jaws wide to eat me and I knew it was now or never. I managed to get one skillful jab into his eye and he cried and lurched backwards. It bought me just enough time to get in the house and slam the door in his face.
The end.
Benefits of low expectations
Ignorance is bliss, and low expectations are a path to happiness.
Sort of.
The term "low expectations" is not a particularly positive one. Nobody thinks that kids should be taught to "aim low!" or "don't dream big, cause you'll only be disappointed!" That feels sad, doesn't it? That sounds like giving up. That sounds like loser talk.
But at the same time, optimism is encouraged. Looking at the glass as half full, and having low expectations, are not very different viewpoints. If you have low expectations, then you're thrilled and grateful that the glass is half full. If you're a high achiever and expect a lot out of life, the glass is unacceptably empty.
Wouldn't we be happier if we accepted ourselves the way we are, instead of striving to better ourselves? Wouldn't we more content if we just live within our means and keep the dead end job forever, instead of constantly struggling to move up a rung?
Yeah, I suppose so. Maybe temporarily, anyways. One of my greatest fears is getting to the end of my life and wondering what the hell I wasted it on. I don't want to be old and wonder why I never did anything special or great or interesting with my life. I don't want to be frail and infirm and cursing my young self for thinking I "couldn't" do something. Because the truth is, I can do a whole lot of stuff, but I need to raise my own bar. Happiness schmappiness.
For instance, I was pretty proud of myself this morning because I was able to successfully rouse myself in bed to be able to make it to work on time, even though I had several drinks the night before. I realized I was congratulating myself in the shower for having performed this feat. And then it hit me: that is a pretty low goal to achieve. Getting up for work does not get you a gold star. Had I, say, gotten up and worked out and gotten some shit accomplished early in the morning despite being hung over, that would be something worth congratulating myself.
And that's when I realized that I have some pretty low expectations for myself these days.
Oftentimes I just want to do something extreme. Like start working out every day, but not just 30 minutes a day or an hour a day, but like 4 hours a day. I like getting obsessed with stuff. I like feeling like I'm making a monumental change in my life. But lately I've been pretty content with "getting to work every day."
But at the same time, I've also felt pretty happy. I haven't been berating myself for not being Superwoman. I have been living a pretty enjoyable existence lately.
Do I really want to start torturing myself? I seem to have a problem weighing the pros and cons of working really hard at something. Anything. In the past, I've worked really hard on something for years and it never worked out. Now I don't try very hard at anything and my life is pretty good. Society has groomed me into the perfect automaton, a good little worker drone who is happy with working and consuming and sleeping and not doing much of anything else.
I wish I had a time machine right about now. I would go to the future and ask my old self what I did with my life and whether or not it was a good choice.
I could drop dead tomorrow... does that mean I should hurry up and start achieving something before I hit the dust, or does that mean I should enjoy myself?
Life is confusing.
Sort of.
The term "low expectations" is not a particularly positive one. Nobody thinks that kids should be taught to "aim low!" or "don't dream big, cause you'll only be disappointed!" That feels sad, doesn't it? That sounds like giving up. That sounds like loser talk.
But at the same time, optimism is encouraged. Looking at the glass as half full, and having low expectations, are not very different viewpoints. If you have low expectations, then you're thrilled and grateful that the glass is half full. If you're a high achiever and expect a lot out of life, the glass is unacceptably empty.
Wouldn't we be happier if we accepted ourselves the way we are, instead of striving to better ourselves? Wouldn't we more content if we just live within our means and keep the dead end job forever, instead of constantly struggling to move up a rung?
Yeah, I suppose so. Maybe temporarily, anyways. One of my greatest fears is getting to the end of my life and wondering what the hell I wasted it on. I don't want to be old and wonder why I never did anything special or great or interesting with my life. I don't want to be frail and infirm and cursing my young self for thinking I "couldn't" do something. Because the truth is, I can do a whole lot of stuff, but I need to raise my own bar. Happiness schmappiness.
For instance, I was pretty proud of myself this morning because I was able to successfully rouse myself in bed to be able to make it to work on time, even though I had several drinks the night before. I realized I was congratulating myself in the shower for having performed this feat. And then it hit me: that is a pretty low goal to achieve. Getting up for work does not get you a gold star. Had I, say, gotten up and worked out and gotten some shit accomplished early in the morning despite being hung over, that would be something worth congratulating myself.
And that's when I realized that I have some pretty low expectations for myself these days.
Oftentimes I just want to do something extreme. Like start working out every day, but not just 30 minutes a day or an hour a day, but like 4 hours a day. I like getting obsessed with stuff. I like feeling like I'm making a monumental change in my life. But lately I've been pretty content with "getting to work every day."
But at the same time, I've also felt pretty happy. I haven't been berating myself for not being Superwoman. I have been living a pretty enjoyable existence lately.
Do I really want to start torturing myself? I seem to have a problem weighing the pros and cons of working really hard at something. Anything. In the past, I've worked really hard on something for years and it never worked out. Now I don't try very hard at anything and my life is pretty good. Society has groomed me into the perfect automaton, a good little worker drone who is happy with working and consuming and sleeping and not doing much of anything else.
I wish I had a time machine right about now. I would go to the future and ask my old self what I did with my life and whether or not it was a good choice.
I could drop dead tomorrow... does that mean I should hurry up and start achieving something before I hit the dust, or does that mean I should enjoy myself?
Life is confusing.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Poverty Sucks
I had an idea today that I should, for the next year of my life, try not to buy anything.
This, of course, is impossible. I need to buy food, and utilities, and gasoline. But I mean discretionary purchases, and to some extent, those "basic needs" are discretionary also. I could probably stand to buy a lot less food, utilities and gasoline and still survive.
I have a spending problem. And I'm not a "big spender". The problem is that I think I spend very little... except that I spend very little on a lot of things.
I'm just so sick of working a job that is slowly sucking out my soul. I feel I need to make it worthwhile in some way. So for the next year, I would like to try to do a few things
1. Save as much money as possible
2. Be annoying frugal
3. See how much money I can make selling crap
"Crap" includes the crap around my house that I don't need, and also stuff like silly drawings and writings.
I won't take any money out of my "crap" account. I'll let it accumulate the entire year and see where it gets me. Maybe I'll make $5, or maybe I'll make $5000.
I need to make the distinction between "want" and "need". Like today I had a doctor's appointment and I had forgotten I needed to drink a bunch of water first. I thought "omigosh I need to stop and buy some bottled waters" which would have cost a few dollars, but instead I made a slight detour to stop at home to grab a Nalgene bottle and filled it up with tapwater. Easy, right? If I could save $5 a day with stuff like that, I could save $1825/year.
Every time I don't buy something I was gonna buy, I should transfer that money into the crap account.
I would be really amazed with myself if I actually stuck with something like this for a whole year.
This, of course, is impossible. I need to buy food, and utilities, and gasoline. But I mean discretionary purchases, and to some extent, those "basic needs" are discretionary also. I could probably stand to buy a lot less food, utilities and gasoline and still survive.
I have a spending problem. And I'm not a "big spender". The problem is that I think I spend very little... except that I spend very little on a lot of things.
I'm just so sick of working a job that is slowly sucking out my soul. I feel I need to make it worthwhile in some way. So for the next year, I would like to try to do a few things
1. Save as much money as possible
2. Be annoying frugal
3. See how much money I can make selling crap
"Crap" includes the crap around my house that I don't need, and also stuff like silly drawings and writings.
I won't take any money out of my "crap" account. I'll let it accumulate the entire year and see where it gets me. Maybe I'll make $5, or maybe I'll make $5000.
I need to make the distinction between "want" and "need". Like today I had a doctor's appointment and I had forgotten I needed to drink a bunch of water first. I thought "omigosh I need to stop and buy some bottled waters" which would have cost a few dollars, but instead I made a slight detour to stop at home to grab a Nalgene bottle and filled it up with tapwater. Easy, right? If I could save $5 a day with stuff like that, I could save $1825/year.
Every time I don't buy something I was gonna buy, I should transfer that money into the crap account.
I would be really amazed with myself if I actually stuck with something like this for a whole year.
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