If you know me at all, you probably know that there are many, many things in this world that annoy me. Well, I just found another one. (I’ll save your time and not try to list a sampling of the stuff I already know about, but feel free to add into the comments your observations.)

The coworker I have who sits directly across from me is a halfway decent person, all things considered. He has quite a few annoying habits, but honestly, none are as bad as some of the other people here (including the woman with significant b.o. issues, so bad you can barely walk past her office without noticing it). One of them is that he will look over here, figure out what project I’m working on via the computer screen, and then comment about it. Usually, it’s some project that I’m not so happy to be doing, like the flow chart I was working on a few minutes ago. However, I’m not crabby about it until he says something like, “oh, working on that again,” or “I know how much you like that project.” Then, of course, I want to throttle him. Not making it any better, little man.

And then if I get crabby, he acts as if that’s some huge character flaw of mine, as if I’m not allowed to be in an ill mood whenever I feel like it. You know, I’m going to be crabby a lot this week, and if you figure that out, I’ll give you a piece of chocolate. I’m entitled.

popularity: 10%

1. You’ve got a friend:: in me
2. Immigration:: services
3. Waitress:: diner
4. Snickers:: bar
5. Recognize:: you better
6. Concept:: car
7. Birthday:: cake
8. Told you so:: I
9. Unlikely:: event
10. Extension:: U of M

popularity: 10%

I finally found what I’d written on Monday, so it is now posted there. You should be able to find it just below this post (or a few scrolls down).

As a bonus for having ignored this blog for so long, I will now post a picture of myself that is completely ridiculous. Thanks to for sending it to me. I have no idea what the back story on this is.

popularity: 11%

I’m really not ignoring my blog. Honest. In fact, Monday while I was off work, I wrote a nice little piece, on actual paper. I have since lost it and not been creative enough to replicate it. Perhaps tonight, while doing ungodly amounts of laundry, I will find it.

Honestly, though, there’s nothing to write about. The only reason I’m even here now is that I’m waiting for a file to print before I can go home, and I can’t turn off my computer till its done.

got a job, so yay! But my life is extremely boring. Sorry.

If you know me, however, on a personal, face-to-face basis, we’re planning a party for Memorial Day. The excuse? The departure of yours truly from . Its a great excuse, at least. Barbecuing, beer (perhaps a pitcher of margaritas for my friends - self - that would prefer them), the upstairs neighbors, and anyone that could vaguely be considered a friend to round things out. I’ll keep you posted. For now, keep your calendar clear that day!

popularity: 10%

1. Dirty work:: get someone to do yours
2. Shopkeeper:: Gordon (from Sesame Street)
3. Goodness:: gracious, great balls of fire!
4. Yearning:: filled with
5. Show and tell:: Mondays
6. Trapped:: in a loveless marriage (no, I’m not, it just came first)
7. Malcolm:: in the Middle (I hate this show, btw)
8. Season:: of love
9. Bestseller:: overhyped
10. Desk:: Set (was on PBS this weekend - great movie!)

popularity: 10%

To: State of Minnesota
Thanks for the day off. It was just what I needed.

To: City of St Paul
Re: Snow Emergency
First of all, 6 inches is not an emergency. Secondly, there have been two snow “emergencies” this season, and both have meant that on days I wouldn’t normally have to get up early (one Saturday and one holiday), I’ve had to trudge out in the snow before 8 am to move my car. If the next snow emergency could be on a day I’d have to get up on anyways, that’d be great.

To: The check-out guy at Office Max
Thank you for flirting with me as I purchased legal pads and pens. It made me feel sexy the rest of the day.

To: Dr Barry Sears, creator of the Zone Diet
Could you please create some recipes with flavor?

popularity: 14%

No, I did not celebrate Valentine’s Day. Well, that’s not completely true. I stayed late at work, toiling away on my Federal taxes. After dinner, I loaded up my car with the huge stack of junk to donate to Goodwill that’s been sitting in our front room for going on two months now, and then drove it over there. On the way back, I stopped by the co-op and bought eggs, whipping cream, and chocolate chips. I then made a cake. Chocolate layer, with German-chocolate frosting in the center, with a nice chocolate glaze decorated with white chocolate drizzle. I then stayed up late playing solitaire on my iPaq (what an ironic game to play on Valentine’s Day), and fell asleep well past one a.m.

I do have to admit that I watched quite a few TV shows that were focused around the holiday, including two different episodes of Girlfriends. Other shows involving a positive love theme? The second half of Las Vegas. I guess that’s about it. Becker had his stereotypical cynical view on the day. I missed most of CSI: Miami while decorating the cake. Will and Grace involved Will breaking up with his boyfriend who refused to come out of the closet.

Is it sad that I remember that much from last night’s TV? At least it means I wasn’t drunk out of my mind over the thought of spending Valentine’s Day alone.

To be perfectly honest, my favorite way to celebrate this holiday has gone the way of days past. Every year, used to give and me underwear. This was something her mom had done for her children as well. Last year stopped doing this. I don’t know why - perhaps underwear is just getting too expensive. This year I did get a very nice mug that coordinates nicely with one I had bought myself at Cocoon last summer.

The old mug:

The new mug:

It was an especially inspiring message to get, as I am on the cusp of a “big dream,” namely starting graduate school to pursue a different career. And while I never expected my family to be anything less than supportive of this career change, since and both have their teaching licenses, it is always nice to be secure in that knowledge and feel… uplifted in that.

In all honesty, getting back to the earlier discussion, I have only had one Valentine’s Day where I have done anything close to “celebrating.” Freshman year of college I was dating when Valentine’s Day rolled around. In fact, we had only been dating two weeks when it rolled around. He got a female friend (no boys allowed in girls dorms, you know) to sneak into my room and placed a flower and a cute stuffed dog, which I have to this day (the dog, not the flower). I do love that stuffed dog - he’s white with black splotches, has a red bow-tie on, red silk lining his floppy ears, and best of all, red silk hearts on the soles of his feet. I also believe that there was a poem he wrote. I’d have to delve into the huge box of “to be scrapbooked” in order to find it, so don’t look for it anytime soon.

The story doesn’t end nicely there, as it could. Instead, I broke up with him the next day. I know. Aren’t I horrible? In fact, it was the gift itself that brought me to the realization that he liked me way more than I liked him. I also realized that God didn’t want us together. Both of these items were protested by him. He did give me some space and we did break up, though he was friends with all my friends so he was still around. For two weeks I argued in my head about what to do. I’ve got a picture of the two of us sitting in a little practice room in the basement of my freshman dorm, on the bench in front of an electric piano (also something I’d have to dig up). I think it was that night that I wanted to get back together with him.

That piano was definitely a humorous point in our relationship, I do have to say. Shortly after our first date (which was dinner which he was too hungry to eat, maybe a movie, and then watching Saturday Night Live in his dorm room), we went down into that practice room and he played something for me - I don’t remember what exactly. I remember that he was good enough at it. The problem was that he didn’t ask me if I knew how to play the piano before he attempted to show off for me. But after he played, he asked me, and then asked me to play something, and I promptly showed him up big time. I’m sure if I had any awareness about me at the time, I wouldn’t have done so, but this was only my second boyfriend and I just really didn’t know things like that.

After the second piano incident, I told him that I still liked him and we started going out again. This was, perhaps, my stupidest action in the whole story. I still knew that we weren’t meant to be together. I didn’t see myself with him. When we started going out, we both agreed that it would be fun. Somewhere in there, it changed from fun, and it became serious, at least for him, which made it… not fun for me. He kissed me right before Spring Break (I realized, consequently, that I was not attracted to him and felt like throwing up when I understood this meant I would have to break up with him again). He tried to kiss me one more time, but only got my hair. We had to have a little talk after that, merely about me not wanting to kiss anybody at this point in my life, etc. Miraculously he took this very well, and was willing to wait until whenever I felt it was right.

Still, before the end of the semester, I did break up with him. It was, arguably, cruel to have let it go on so long. I was misleading him, and only caused him more harm the longer we stayed together. We argued for most of that summer about whether or not we were supposed to be together, both claiming that God had told us opposite things. We did eventually stay friends, which considering he was my best friend’s best guy friend and roommate, was pretty much a necessity. He went on to date another youth ministry major with my same name, got engaged to another girl (also a youth ministry major), dated a fourth youth ministry major and married her. Last I heard they were living happily in Indiana. They probably have a kid or two by now.

So, you can see why Valentine’s Day, and the idea of spending it alone, is not such a big deal to me. I would like to have a good V-Day some time in the future, but I’m not holding my breath.

popularity: 10%

You know how certain things make you feel… uncomfortable? Like that person on the bus who smells, or the coworker who stands too close, or… fill in the blank.

Well, yesterday and today, I have been having significant… underwear issues. That’s right, I said it. I suggest reading no further.

Yesterday, I wore this cute skirt, and since it was a little clingy, required the use of a thong. I don’t know what was wrong with the one I picked out, but clearly it only was meant to invoke pain. There must be a reason I don’t normally wear that one.

And then today, the choice was boy-cut shorts, because they’re fun, and I was feeling fun. I am not feeling fun right now. They have ridden up. They continue to ride up, despite my attempts to… relieve the situation.

At this point, I’m ready to go commando.

See, I told you you didn’t want to keep reading.

popularity: 9%

1. Judge:: advocate
2. Detroit:: Michigan
3. Hyphen:: ated
4. Get it right:: buster
5. Pulsating:: throb
6. Yoga:: instructor
7. Memorable:: date
8. Financial advisor:: unnecessary
9. Ten million:: dollars
10. I:: need a vacation

popularity: 10%

Did you know that, in the recorded history of mankind, over 104 million people have been killed via genocide? That doesn’t include the numerous incidents where the number killed wasn’t counted, such as the Hebrews in Egypt (biblical-era), or Constantine.

To put that in perspective, that’s:

• 1/3 of the US population
• ALL of Mexico
• 3 times Canada
• ALL of Middle Africa
• 2 times South Africa
• More than the populations of France, UK, Northern Europe (16 countries), separately
• 4 times Australia and New Zealand
• 334 times the deaths caused by the recent Tsunami in Indonesia
• 34,000 times the deaths in the 9/11 WTC attacks

That’s kind of a downer for a Friday, huh? Just doing some research for youth group.

popularity: 21%

Do you ever wonder if you’re irreparably damaged? That’s the question I was meaning to get to weeks ago when I wrote about John Mayer’s “Daughters.” (BTW, the video for this was quite disappointing to me - the song lends itself so well to a music video in story form, since the song is quite story-esque. Of course, so are most country music songs, and their videos don’t follow the lyrics either, as far as I can tell.)

I got to thinking, I wonder if I’m permanently damaged, at least in relation to men. All throughout high school, I was an unabashed male-basher. Why, I’m not quite sure. It couldn’t have been just that I wasn’t asked out on many dates. But my memory seems unable to pinpoint any incident(s) that would cause me to feel this way, and since I can’t perform hypno-therapy on myself, we’ll just have to leave it in the unknown.

High school and college saw me have lots of good guy friends (OK, well, “lots” is relative to the total number of friends I’d ever have at any one time, which, for me, is smaller than most people). I never did date much, though that didn’t mean my love life was uninteresting (as proven through posts on this site).

And though my parents’ divorce hit hard, both and I pulled through that and learned a lot about love and life, and for the positive.

So why is it that when I’m around guys my own age (or relatively so), whether or not I’m attracted to them, as long as they’re single, I feel like a 12-year-old girl? An awkward, gangly, braces-wearing, bad eighties hair, clumsy, unbrilliant 12-year-old. It’s not a giggly-cute-nervous deal. It’s actually quite… well, awkward sums it up pretty good.

I can’t seem to make eye contact with strangers, unless they’re providing a service like giving me my mocha or ringing up my groceries. I could blame that on my time spent on the reservation, since eye contact was not exactly encouraged there, or on my time spent in San Francisco, when eye contact on the street was avoided so you didn’t accidentally send someone the wrong message.

I have some body-image issues, I’ll admit, but those are entirely related to the media and what American culture has determined is “beautiful” for women these days. Some people, I’m sure, would like to beat me senseless for having body-image issues, but seriously folks, we all have our own demons, right?

What is it that is getting in the way of me but me? If I can’t pinpoint an exact moment, incident, or even an era that has caused me some sort of harm in this area, I can’t actually be damaged, right? In that case, I was just… messed up from the beginning. That doesn’t seem right.

If you know me, could you give me some insight please?

popularity: 12%

Long hair is now finally seeming a possibility. The week before I moved to Minnesota I made the mistake of over-processing my hair, and consequently it had to be cut off. All of it. For a while, I had about 1/2 inch of hair on my head (some of which was later cut off because it too was damaged, but the girl who cut my hair didn’t want me to be bald, so she left it on originally). Then I moved to Minnesota, December 1, 2001.

Now, a little over three years later, my hair may actually get there. It no longer just brushes the nape of my neck - it now has an undeniable presence, and threatens to get tucked into the necks of shirts soon. I only have a few errant strays when I pull it up. According to , who I don’t think has ever had her hair longer than her ears, my hair is long. My goal? Middle of my back. It’s never been that long. It was shoulder-blade length for a long time. My current youth group kids laugh at pictures of me pre-Minnesota, and think I look funny with long hair. I tell them that’s how I looked for the first 23 years of my life. Not entirely true, but I won’t go into the entire history of my hair here. Not that I couldn’t - it is my blog.

But I’ll let it be for now.

Suffice it to say, I’m happy with my hair length. Now if I could only get the styling products I like in the stores that are easiest to travel to, that’d be great.

popularity: 12%

It’s bad enough when something is going on in your personal life that makes you want to cry while you’re at work.

It’s worse if you want to cry at work because of… work. That’s the kind of day I’ve had.

Yesterday I was greeted by both of my bosses with work before I hit my cubicle, while my coat was on, and my headphones were playing. But today, even though both of them were gone, I came in to a cube full of work, and the most horrific tasks one could imagine support staff having to do. I can’t even explain it, for fear of having flashbacks.

By lunch, I’d made it my goal to finish all the horrible stuff today so that tomorrow wouldn’t suck. Friday’s shouldn’t be that way. I have a little more than an hour left, and I think I might actually make my goal.

popularity: 9%

So last night I went to Hamline for an information session on their MAT (Master of Arts in Teaching for Initial Licensure) program. After watching the video (trying to sell us on Hamline, which, quite frankly, since they’re the only school I know of that offers a master’s for initial licensure, I didn’t need to be sold), they split us up into groups for what we were interested in. The MAT group (there were others, like for people who already had their license, people looking for a doctorate, people interested in ESL, etc) was by far the largest, though I’m pretty sure most of the people there were looking to start in the fall, which gives me a little bit of a head start. The professor leading the group had us pair up with someone we didn’t know (pretty easy for me, since I didn’t know anyone there) and just learn a little bit about them, why they were considering teaching, why Hamline, whatever.

So this guy next to me turned around and we introduced ourselves. Gotta admit, he was a decent-looking guy, 20-something, and generally not creepy. Found out he had gone to another local school for his undergrad (in Religious Studies, graduated just a few years ago, after me but not too much) and shared why I was there. No big deal. Then we had to introduce each other to the group (would have been nice if we’d been told we were going to do that before the interviewing began, but whatever). Then there was a long dissemination of information about the program. To be honest, I probably didn’t need to have gone to the information session. I would have been fine just applying and then getting my questions answered by my adviser, since none of them really would be answerable until after I was accepted.

Finally the professor stopped talking and started taking questions. A guy from the front row got up to leave, and so then the professor wanted to pass out some handouts before he left (which I saw as a great time to leave myself). Through the handout process, found out that the guy I’d interviewed was interested in teaching the same subject matter as myself.

I’d spent a lot of the Q&A time convincing myself that I could say, it was nice to meet you, to this guy (I have issues, I’ll freely admit). However, when the time came, I felt in a huge rush, and just threw my coat on, grabbed my stuff, and ran out without making eye contact with anyone. While walking out (berating myself for not saying goodbye to cute guy), I figured out that I could have slipped him my number if I had thought about it. Stupid girl, I am sometimes.

So, getting to my epiphany… I am single because, while I meet very few guys my age at all anyways, the ones I do meet I run away from. What the h*** is my problem? I have no problem with pre-existing guy friends, and sometimes even friends-of-friends are OK. Definitely guys who are in serious relationships or married are no problem.

I’m never going to get married, am I? Or at least, not without serious therapy.

popularity: 9%

I have been both super-busy and bored at work. Amazing. I don’t like being super-busy. I don’t have time to catch up on the blogs I read, or Dilbert, or just surf the web a little. And my work is suffering terribly.

I need a haircut, too.

popularity: 7%