1. Are you superstitious?
No, on a practical level I don’t believe in “all that stuff.” I am, however, much of a germophobe.
2. What extremes have you heard of someone going to in the name of superstition?
I can’t think of anything. I know when I was little we used to skip down the sidewalk, trying not to land on cracks.
3. Believer or not, what’s your favorite superstition?
Throwing salt over one’s shoulder seems… silly. Walking under ladders always makes me duck my head a little bit.
4. Do you believe in luck? If yes, do you have a lucky number/article of clothing/ritual?
No, I don’t believe in luck. I actually was part of a church that wouldn’t have potluck dinners because it used the word “luck,” so they had “Community Dinners” or something to that effect. I don’t have a favorite number (except when exaggerating, and then it’s usually 27 or 42), and I don’t have lucky clothes (although some definitely make me look cuter than others).
5. Do you believe in astrology? Why or why not?
I don’t. I used to read my horoscope all the time, and it never came true, and then it seemed to be a little… religious for me, so I stopped reading altogether. I just recently have allowed myself to read, in fun, a horoscope or two. They still don’t come true. I was supposed to meet a guy on the 8th of this month, and… NO.
They got engaged right before Christmas, wedding will be in July in the Chicago area. I’m a bridesmaid. Yay!
1. What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done?
Within 24 hours I decided to take a job in Arizona for the summer (from Minnesota) and left within 2 weeks.
2. What one thing would you like to try that your mother/friend/significant other would never approve of?
I’d really like a tattoo.
3. On a scale of 1-10, what’s your risk factor? (1=never take risks, 10=it’s a lifestyle)
I’m pretty cautious. Probably a 2.
4. What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you as a result of being bold/risky?
In Arizona I made some of the best friends I have. And I got over a guy while I was there. And had the chance to heal over getting fired.
5. … and what’s the worst?
I was really unprepared for that summer (and, to be honest, a little emotionally unstable).
So, some background before I go into this… Amanda & I got this book in the winter called Buy Book, Get Guy. And while it wasn’t a revolutionary book at all, nor did either of us get a guy afterwards (we weren’t expecting miracles), it was a decent read for the used book price I got it for. There was this one vital piece of information that we have since discussed at length over the past… 9 months. It’s this simple idea of making eye contact and smiling. At a guy. At the same time. I seem… incapable of doing it. I can make eye contact. Or I can smile. But not both at the same time. So, I can either be Strange Girl Who Stares, or Weird Girl Smiling To Herself. But I cannot be Cute Girl Interested In Hot Boy. This, I seen to be incapable of.
But, today, I did it! Maybe its the new drugs I’m on, ’cause I am feeling pretty good today. I’m walking to the bus stop (btw, caught the 8:46, could have caught the 8:35 but I thought it was the 8:31 so I didn’t rush, very proud of myself for getting up at 7:30 today; also have gone running 3 times this week! Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday! My therapist will be so proud of me!) and I walk past this park/playground, and there was this cute boy on one of those big industrial lawn mowers, and he was coming down the sidewalk towards me, so I hopped into the street, not desiring to become lawnmower food. He smiled at me as I passed, and I kinda looked, then looked away and smiled. But later, while I was waiting at the bus stop, he came driving down the street on his lawnmower, and as he passed me, he smiled and I looked at him and smiled. And as he continued down the road away from me, he kept looking back (arguably to remove the tree branch attached to the back of his lawnmower), I kept glancing at him and smiling. It was a lot of fun for me. So, yay me! Progress in my life!
Trying to not be freaked out, but, let’s be honest, I am. I had another appointment with my therapist, and we talked about getting put on meds, and he really seems to want me on them sooner rather than later. So I did the responsible thing today and called my gp to schedule an appointment. I just assumed, I guess, that I wouldn’t be able to get an appointment in the 24 hours until I leave for the big Chicago trip. But there were, like, 3 appointments all in the afternoon when I’m not at work. So I have an appointment at 2:20. A little freaked out now. I shouldn’t be, right? I mean, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. There have been times when I’ve felt like this was the only option, that I’d exhausted all the rest of my resources. So what’s the big deal? But yeah, it’s a big deal.
Mucho thanks to my friends who have been great help giving suggestions on how to further get to know Mr Wonderful from the other weekend. The consensus was that I could email him as a sort of thanks and let him take it from there. Avoid stalking (note – do NOT show up on Sunday morning at his church, even though he told you which one it was) at all costs! I walk a fine line.
I’ve been reading The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver at Amanda’s recommendation (warning, I might give away key factoids and plot-spoilers). I’m still not all the way finished with it and it’s been two weeks of reading it on the bus and staying up late. But it’s really good. And really difficult at the same time. It’s about a missionary family in the Congo starting in 1959. When I say difficult, I mean that the father is a southern baptist evangelist who decides to take his family to the Congo and his definition of his purpose there is to baptize everybody while totally ignoring all of their culture and way of life. He doesn’t even get to know people individually, just yells a lot about sin and repentance and damnation and baptism. It’s hard to take the, well, brutal honesty of the description of his mission – I know that for a long time many people treated missions like this, and sometimes I’d just rather forget about that. This morning as I was reading it, I was overwhelmed with the desire to hop into the book (or a boat across the ocean) and just go and hug people and sooth their pains and make everything all better. I’m not so much pulled to do the evangelism talking-about-God thing (although that could just be a result of my not having really talked to Him in quite some time, and also sometimes that just happens, I just get into conversations about Him without realizing it). I just get overwhelmed sometimes with grand dreams of compassion. Maybe… I don’t know. Like I have any clue about anything.
Well, the doctor’s stuff turned out… OK. I’m trying to be positive (well, I don’t really have to try that hard – maybe I just haven’t really thought about it that seriously). It’s not terminal or fatal, and it won’t really affect my day to day life very much at all. I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). It could be worse. I could be dying. I could have to have surgery. As it is, all I have to do is take a pill every day. That’s not that bad. I think I freaked the doctor out a little bit, because I didn’t have any questions and I didn’t seem too worried. It’s just that, well, I’ve always thought that I would adopt my kids and that I wouldn’t be able to give birth to them, and I’ve always wanted boy children (who are just carriers of this genetic disease). Mom said she always thought she would adopt too, but she didn’t.
I’ve got my Music from the Coffee Lands CD in – they’re singing in Spanish. This is what it sounds like to me:
el mismo cabon la forsfa /
el muna foralan porlna /
el pornas le preguntas /
soy entraboynadertandato /
estas la minongas cha cha cha /
I don’t think that’s what they’re saying. Still, it’s a good CD. I just don’t think I’m ever going to get Spanish. That could be a big hindrance to moving to Panama.
I no longer want to harm any of my roommates. Or their relatives or friends who call. Because, well, quite frankly, there are more important things in this world, and I’m tired. My labs came back – the nurse called and so I had to return the call when I got home from work yesterday. I spent easily five minutes being transferred around until they found the right nurse and then waited for her to come on the phone. She said my labs came back and they were, quote, WEIRD. Thanks so much for clearing that up. What does it mean? Oh, no need to get freaked out, we’re just going to send you to a specialist and let me transfer you to the receptionist right now to set that up. Great. Thanks so much for making it easy. But wait. That’s right. My appointment is in a week and I DON’T KNOW WHAT MY TEST RESULTS ACTUALLY WERE. Am I dying? I everything OK? (Obviously not) Am I broken? More importantly, am I fixable? Who is this yahoo that they’re sending me to? I went to the HealthPartners’ website to look him up and his bio said that he reads medical journals and likes to inform his patients of new things that are going on in the field. Yippee. I’m glad my doctor can read and might actually try to help me. That is not the kind of information I was looking for. His picture came up as a big box with a little red X in it. Thanks. So now I have to wait a week to see a doctor about whom I know nothing other than that he’s literate and I know nothing about why I’m even going there, other than my labs came back WEIRD. Pardon me if I’m a little high-strung about this. I am glad that I am a permanent employee now and don’t have to worry about health care costs for at least a while. That’s the only bright spot right now. And I have to call Mom tell her what’s going on (or at least the fact that something is going on but nobody knows what yet. Well, the nurse does. So does the doctor probably. But not me. The important one. Envision the world revolving around me right now.).
The doctor’s office called today – they got the results from my labs run last Friday. The nurse didn’t actually tell me what they were, just that they were weird. So they’re sending me to the endocrinologist. The 15th. I don’t want to wait that long. The nurse told me not to worry and that it all made sense (with me not getting my period), but still I’m anxious. I know I’ve said for a long time that it would be OK if I couldn’t give birth to kids. But, that was all theory. Granted, the reason why I went to the doctor was to try to “fix” things if possible while I’m still young and single. If I can’t get pregnant, I’d like to know that before getting married – that’s an important piece of the picture. I’m still scared. Maybe this’ll all be related with the depression? One can only hope to clear it all up in one fell swoop. I’m just nervous and worried, especially that I’m not really prepared for this.
So now I feel bad about being mean to the person on the phone yesterday. Somebody really was dead. A housemate’s stepmom. Long-term terminal, but still.
Can we talk about what should happen to people who call at 4:30 in the morning? This sort of thing should be outlawed. Three times, mind you, the phone rang. I had just gotten to sleep, after being lazy yesterday, skipping work, and sleeping in until noon. So logically I couldn’t fall asleep last night (thereby ruining all benefits of the previous day’s sleep and time off). Finally around 4:15 I drifted off into blissful sleep, only to be woken up by the phone ringing! First they left a message. So I fell right back to sleep. But then, ten minutes later, they called back again. Let the answering machine pick it up, but no, they hung up and CALLED RIGHT BACK!!! So I answered with a “What?!?” as rudely as possible, only to have it be a sibling of a roommate who was looking for them. Like I cared. All I have to say is, there better be somebody in the hospital or some similar sort of emergency that would warrant three 4:30 phone calls.