Reason #987 why I am single

An actual conversation I had yesterday...

CO-WORKER: Oh, look! There's a speed-dating event tonight. Want to go?

ME: Oh, no thanks. Tonight I have to finish up a disk of Battlestar Galactica.

On Hipsters

What was the hipster?: "Inside the US, pretending to be white trash only works in a city where white trash doesn’t exist. Otherwise you’re bearing the stigma of America’s deep-seated classism. "

Women's Work

I'm going through my own internal recession, I think; I've recognized that my personal resources (time, energy, happiness) are limited and am cutting back, reviewing what's necessary, laying off what's not.

I have finally accepted that I can't do everything. My limit seems to be two jobs, although I actually hold 4 permanent ones: housekeeper, mom, project assistant (this is the one that pays), cook.

This means that I constantly have to choose which two are going to get the focus. This week cook and housekeeper stepped back so that I could motor though my lengthy to-do list at work and navigate Daughter's schedule. But that means I only made dinner once, and it was from the freezer, and the dishes are taking over the counter.

I'm ok with that.

I could also probably also add to the "unpaid" or category:

• chauffeur
• laundress
• nutritionist
• child psychologist
• nursing assistant
• researcher
• freelance writer
• publicist
• gardener
• pet care specialist

(Hmm... is there a job for people who update their facebook statuses a lot? I'd have that one too.)

But my mental health seriously depends on being able to have reasonable expectations of what I can do. Jobs I have recently discarded:

• extreme environmentalist
• gourmet chef
• best.mom.ever
• literary genius

It's a relief to trim down my internal resume. I have always tended to be an overachiever (thanks, alcoholic parent!), and put pressure on myself to be the best at everything... which led to me not enjoying anything.

Being healthier has led to changes in my life that are far more radical than any of the politics in the days when I was marching in demonstrations every week. Liking myself, for example. Having a strong relationship with my kid. Enjoying being alive.

It's totally worth it, even with an internal pay cut.

Dear Portland Press Herald

What's the difference is between "a transient" and a person with "no fixed address?" Is it just reporter preference? Because one sounds a little more pejorative to me.

Happy Spring!

The city of Portland is offering discounted compost bins for residents. They're the nice ones too...

The home compost bins and how-to guide are available at a reduced cost of $40. The bin has a 10-year warranty and is made of 100 percent recycled plastic. Kitchen waste pails for kitchen food scraps cost $8, and the wingdigger compost turner costs $17. For the first time, people can also purchase a 55-gallon rain barrel for $55.

(pressherald)

But you gotta call public works to get 'em: 874-8801 or
http://publicworks.portlandmaine.gov

UPDATE: You only have until May 1 to get in your order forms for these sweet, sweet items. The order form is here.

Me, Nonplussed

Daughter was anxious for me to see this video. I saw it. I can't say that watching it helped.

A place I should not visit

More to hold on to

I wrote before about how I am recovering from a depression that was so long-lasting that I didn't even know I was depressed... And while I am feeling better, there have been some unintended consequences of recovery.

Food tastes really damn good, for example. And my appetite has returned. This, as you might be guessing, has led to some weight gain.

So I'm trying to be make friends with my new love handles. The last time I can remember feeling this good emotionally was in high school, and my weight then was about fifteen to twenty pounds more than my norm over the past few years (pregnancy year excluded). So maybe this is my "happy weight?" That's the current theory, anyway.

And I am less horrified than the woman-sculpture there would suggest. Less horrified than she is, anyway.

My biggest problem is another unintended consequence: I need a new wardrobe, since I am down to just a few pairs of pants. And shopping is a whole other kind of trauma...

Babies! Animals!

For your Thursday afternoon enjoyment, a photo that is so cute that when I saw it I was forced to make incomprehensible cutsie noises until I ran out of breath and COUGHED.Well, cute and a little disturbing and wierdly dirty. But CUTE!

OMFG... I'm in <3

Just wanted to prove that I'm hip with the know and the txt talk and all that...*

And also, to share this with you.

Do you know what it is?

DEEP FRIED CHICKEN SKIN!!!

As happens so often, I am simultaneously horrified and fascinated (and a little hungry).

(Thx, Paul Constant. I want to be you when I grow up.)

*Obviously a lie, since, as a mom, I am no longer allowed to be hip. In fact, the fact that I know anything automatically determines that it is not cool. This is a law of nature.

Poor & female & queer

Last week (one week ago tomorrow, actually, when I was just starting to have a sense that I might be sick) I participated in a local history project of Sisters, the dyke bar (RIP). The project is being conducted through a series of interviews by Clare Forstie, a graduate student at USM. I was thrilled to help--and, to be honest, a little jealous that I hadn't thought of the idea first.

During the interview I talked a bit about why Sisters closed. I have always thought that a lesbian-oriented venture will have a harder road because women are, in general, poorer than men, and lesbians are poorer than women in general. This is something I've observed, and something I know to be true, but now there's proof.

About 24 percent of lesbians and bisexual women are poor, compared to 19 percent of straight women, the study says. About 15 percent of gay and bisexual men are living in poverty, a rate that’s akin to the 13 percent of straight men who are poor, the report says.
(Washington Blade, via)

I can't wait to go read the whole thing, and you can too, here.

(h/t to Sarah)

Unrelatedly

Dan Savage for mayor of Seattle!

Cough, cough

This has been the weeks of the sickness(es). Somehow I ended up missing seven days of work out of the past ten, for a series of completely unrelated events. I keep telling myself that I must be making a huge karmic down payment on something really excellent...

You can see some of the evidence on my flickr, but the most intense part has been the flu that I caught (probably at the doctor's office while having my toes x-rayed, and despite the flu shot I got in the fall). I can't remember the last time I was this sick, and I've never had the flu before. I can understand why meaner strains of it killed people.

In fact, most of the week is lost in a hot blur. Since I couldn't sustain concentration to read, I watched a lot of TV (including an obscene amount of Roseanne and many births on Discovery) and slept and drank tea and ate soy yogurt. I had a breakdown of sorts on Tuesday afternoon when I realized how sick I actually was, and had to call in the reinforcements so that I could get away to go to the urgent care clinic, but my friends came to the rescue.

This weekend my folks are taking Daughter so that I can sleep and sleep and sleep. And probably watch more Roseanne.

I will not be at all sorry to see this week go.

Triumphant Return

A friend commented to me the other day that I didn't really write much here any more, and I realized that she's right. Partly it's easier to facebook, and twitter, but there's a bigger reason.

The problem is that the things going on in my personal life are just not the kind of thing you blog about. Or, rather, not the kind of thing I blog about. Because I've been uncomfortable with, you know, feelings and stuff, and I also reject the idea of blog as journal. AND I needed a little time to put this whole thing into perspective. Nonetheless, I will try to describe without being cheesy. You may want to skip the rest of this if you're not into feelings and processing and personal self-development.

OK. So, you know that I got laid off last June and spent the summer unemployed. You may also know that a couple of important relationships ended rather abruptly during that period of unemployment.

As far as I can tell, these events, in combination with a probable genetic inheritance and a rather heavy load of personal baggage from traumatic life experiences, blah blah blah, left me what you might call despondent.

Wearing-elastic-waist-pants, not-getting-haircuts, eating-junk-food-and-watching-WE blue, if you know what I mean.

I was (barely, luckily) able to get my shit together and get an excellent job, and this development made me realize how weird and out of balance the rest of my life was. I was a stranger in my own life, disconnected from my feelings and my body, anxious beyond all reasoning. I'd been in therapy for a year, and was making progress but still feeling generally bad. And with winter coming on, I was a little scared.

So I started taking medication.

Friends, if I had known how much better medication would make me feel, I would have started it a decade ago. I have been morally opposed to medication in the past, arguing that the same effect could be had by a combination of exercise, good nutrition, plenty of sunshine, and solid emotional support.

My problem was that I couldn't get to any of those things because I was too damn depressed. I couldn't drag myself off the couch, couldn't afford the healthiest food (or summon the energy to cook it), the days were closing in, and I was such a mess that I couldn't really sustain a friendship.

When the meds started to kick in it was like waking up in the night and seeing the grey windows that announce that dawn is imminent. And then I started exercising, and seeing a holistic doctor, and taking my vitamins, and suddenly it was full mid-morning summer sunlight.

If this is how people usually feel, I think I've been depressed for over a decade.

NEXT POST: More processing and feelings.

OK, now I'm excited

Got this email today.....

EDIT 3/6: (Removed the picture, which wasn't really working out. Sorry)

Red's Dairy Freeze (since 1952) is opening in just a few days for its 57th season. You too can receive these fantastic updates by emailing redsclub@gmail.com.

Red's Dairy Freeze | 167 Cottage Road | South Portland | ME | 04106

Gasp

It's so many memes at once, I can barely breathe. Thank you McSweeney's, for once again completely exploding my brain.

Tweets for Today

• 08:21 High radio drama last night: the host's guest didn't call in, and was unreachable. It was the best 30 mins of complete improv I've seen. #

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Tweets for Today

• 09:02 My V-Day plans are kidtastic: hangin with my sis & niece & nephew, and babysitting my friend's infant. I can't wait for all that baby time! #

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Tech Envy

I'm having some tech envy. This could tip the scale towards an iPhone on my next cell phone upgrade: they've added Oregon Trail as an app. Some of my happiest elementary school time was spent figuring out--on the school's single Commodore 64--how many sacks of flour my hardy band of pioneers would need.

Now if they'd just add Lemonade Stand, I might have to go out and get one tomorrow.

Travelin

Yesterday I took a one-day trip to Washington DC to attend a conference for work. It was held at a crazy giant hotel that had an outdoor shopping plaza--with trees and flowers and picnic tables and the works--inside the hotel! I felt kind of like ma kettle, standing there gaping with my cell phone camera held high. Unfortunately the pictures didn't come out, but you can see other people's pictures of the hotel here.

This trip was a landmark for a couple of reasons. First, it was the farthest I've traveled by myself, and only the second time I've been to DC. Second, it's only the second time I've flown. I was pretty proud of myself that I managed it all, and also acted like an adult the entire time (ie no screaming, crying, or urinating in my pants).

The best part was the flight, though. I was completely enchanted by the view, and I hope that I always am. On the way, I saw the sun rise from 32,000 feet, and on the way home I saw all of the East Coast cities lit up like jewelry. There was a guy sitting next to me on the flight home, and I kept wanting to nudge him and point out the window, but he was too busy working on a powerpoint about fatty bone marrow. Fatty bone marrow may be important, but it's not pretty.