I was trying to catch up on my reading and sneak in a little royal wedding coverage.
I was just a few pages into a new book when I glanced down to see my cat, Boo, asleep. He looks like he’s embracing my book.
We think I have bronchitis, but in an hour or so I’ll find out. By “we” I mean my mom, my friend Abby and WebMD.
You’ve heard enough of the girl with no job and no money saga (aka me) so I won’t bore you anymore with that, but I’ve been trying to make it until my first paycheck without any major expenses. Having health issues suddenly becomes one of those major expenses. Why? I’m uninsured, like many in America.
Thankfully, my college days brought me some schooling on not just an English degree but also on how our public health system works. Sometimes, if you have no monies, you can see a doctor for free or for very cheap.
So I’m at urgent care right now because I nearly died yesterday (an exaggeration, yes, but I’ve had the sickness from hell) and in my sickness and drug induced state, the light finally came on and I Googled ‘public health’ and ‘free clinic’.
This clinic is fancy. They are playing Shrek. Over and over and over. But hey, there’s a tv. So yay.
And the wait is only two hours, which in clinic time really isn’t that long.
So, let’s hope for the best and lots of drugs. I’ve got a job to go to Monday and I need to be all better-not crying like a big baby, saying, “I want my mommy,” which did, in fact, happen last night. You can ask my boyfriend.
It’s not a big deal. Drinking is really common in what I like to call “The Real World.” But for the very religious–which I used to be–drinking is synonymous with sin. I “sin” for fun these days because I don’t believe in the concept of sin. I think sin is a concept that’s used to bring guilt and fear into a lot of religious people’s lives. These days I don’t feel guilty. I feel happy. So, I’m drinking a Shock Top, Belgian White beer and later tonight we’re going to a bar called The Griffin and I’m going to drink their fabulous strawberry beer. Beer doesn’t really make me drunk, but if I want to get drunk (and I do), I go for Vodka. Just one or two and I’m good and drunk. And then I want to have sex.
And that’s why I like to sin. Because sin is fun and sin is a myth.
Um, let’s all drink with this: Mr. Beer Beer of the Month Club Receive everything you need to keep you brewing great tasting beer all year long. Sounds fun, right?
I was so moody today that I freaked out and bought a pregnancy test. Yeah, it wasn’t a pregnancy that made me feel moody. That was negative and honestly there’s really no chance I am pregnant. But I couldn’t think of any other reason I would feel this terrible. There had to be a real reason, right?
So it’s no stranger to any of you that I have anxiety and sometimes anxiety is characterized by an over-thinking quality. So when the pregnancy test was negative, which I was sure it would’ve been, I started worrying the test was wrong.
Oh shit, I thought. What am I going to do with a baby? Or will I have an abortion? What if I don’t want to? But I don’t want to wake up and change diapers.
So there’s the created dilemma. I’m worried about a problem I don’t have.
And I will totally laugh about this tomorrow. In fact, if I didn’t sound so crazy I’d be laughing now.
I spent the day crying and moody, and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. THEN, it dawned on me. Pills! Yes! That’s what the problem was. I take this medicine and if I skip it it messes with my moods. Woo-hoo! For sure not pregnant. Now I realize that my moods are sort of a temporary side effect and life is good again.
Sometimes I get to the point that I feel like I share way too much information on the Internet. This is one of those days. But you have to realize, I’m a confessional type of person. I’m a real talker. I like jabbering, mostly about myself. Since I was a child, I did that. Ask my mom.
Speaking of moms and babies and pregnancies, I’m almost 31 years old. I’m sort of excited to eventually do the motherhood thing, for real. Like the diaper bag and go shopping for a stroller kind of motherhood. Then I’ll have a real Mommy Blog. 🙂 I might even stop the profanity and sex talk on the blog. Or would that be bad?
No matter how excited I am to actually do the motherhood thing, I’m terrified of it. What if I’m terrible at it? What if I don’t choose the right partner? What if my babies are sick or handicap when they’re born? What if I don’t make enough money to support my kids?
These are normal questions, right?
To all of you who think I’m crazy, or over the top, or a witch or a heathen, I’m not writing for you.
I’m writing for me.
I write for myself–to explore what questions I have, the uncertainty inside, and the discovery of what answers and questions the world offers me.
I’m not writing for power because power isn’t what I’m looking for. I already have power. I’ve had it since I was a child: the power to Be, the power to Do, the power to Love.
While I may not have answers for you, what I can offer you is friendship along the way. Many of my readers have found me on Facebook (where I’m at everyday) and we’ve become friends. Some of us are as close to best friends as two people can get. Some give me a laugh when things are tough. Some of them enlighten me to ways of thinking and books and blogs that I never knew before. We’re all growing and learning together. We’re a community, not a hierarchy or a totalitarian regime.
I’m not your pastor, your leader or your Old Testament God.
I may not be your pastor, your leader or your Old Testament God but I am a Bitch, a Feminist, a Sexual Being. I am a strong woman; I am empowered; I am contemplative; I am smart. But (those of you who call me a heathen/witch), I’m not yours for you to dictate who I am, what I should live like, or what I should believe in. Those decisions are just not yours. A person’s beliefs or lack of beliefs are his or her own. They’re none of your goddamned business.
And so it is with people’s personalities: we’re not here for you to change. My friends here are who they are and they’re amazing human beings. They’re not here for you to try to bully or badger or misunderstand. Here, we have an open community, but we also have rules in place to make sure people feel safe.
So, in the fashion of the past months, Fuck You Troll. If you’re trying to convert us (from our de-conversion or liberation), you can just leave.
For those of you who are out of the cult, you’ll probably be familiar with a TV show called South Park. If you’re not, here’s a video clip of Whale Whores, Season 13, Episode 11. The reason I’m showing you this is because my boyfriend has gotten the phrase “Fuck You Dolphin” stuck in my head. So, then when I say “Fuck You Troll”, I’m of course saying it in the South Park Japanese Dolphin Killer’s voice. And no one is going to think this is as funny as I do, but Fuck You Dolphin.
Life is good. I wake up as late as I can, brew some coffee and read the news. The coastal breeze blows through my windows cooling me off. The day is open to any possibilities, and I lavish in the fact that I don’t have to do anything or ask permission to leave my house.
Life is good.
This weekend, my mom, sister and I were at Disneyland. A Saturday in May at Disneyland is the worst day to choose to go to Disneyland–lines are long and the weather is warm.
Have no fear, though: my mom, sister and I have a game we play in line to keep us entertained. It’s where we people watch (usually my mom starts) and come up with a storyline for the chosen set of people’s lives based on something we notice about the group.
For example, we were in a long line for Space Mountain and there were two 50-ish year old couples in front of us. My mom spotted a rip in one of the men’s shorts, which he had crudely tried to fix with two safety pins. He did a poor job fixing the rip and we could see his chonies (underwear).
Based on that one observation and the body language of the couples in that mans group for the entire hour long wait, we concocted the following three scenarios.
Possible Scenario 1:
The man with the torn shorts is either newly divorced or widowed. He has no wife to notice that his underwear are showing in front of all of Disneyland, or at least in the lines for the rides.
Possible Scenario 2:
The man in the torn shorts just cheated on his wife. She’s pissed off at him, so she’s giving him the cold shoulder in line–and at home. This is why his pants weren’t fixed, or why he was able to wear them outside without anyone telling him to change.
Possible Scenario 3:
The wife of the man with the torn shorts just cheated on him and is trying to conceal it, but doing a poor job of it. Since she’s so preoccupied in her mind about her affair, she didn’t pay attention to his shorts in the morning and he made a crude attempt at fixing them.
This whole people watching guessing game really stemmed an entirely related conversation about cheating, mostly because you couldn’t tell the two couples were married to each other (we assume they were) as they were really cold to each other. My mom is at the age where a lot of her friends have had a spouse cheat on them or has had women flirting with my dad for months at a time, etc.
We argued all kinds of possibilities as to what makes married men and women (even happily married men and women) cheat on their spouses. We mostly focused on long time married couples. We never came up with a definitive answer, but a compilation of answers:
Do you have any theories as to why people cheat, even in long term or happy marriages?
Arnold Schwarzenegger and Maria Shriver are getting a divorce because Arnold kept his secret “love child” from her for ten years. They were married about twenty five years ago. I’d consider that a long term marriage, and we (the public) and Maria are only now finding out. How is that possible? It was a child he had with someone in his own household staff!
The Post quoted Political consultant James Carville who “called it ‘stunning’ that this never bubbled up. “I would not be surprised if a lot of money changed hands,” he told [the Post].”
A lot of money? It takes a lot of money to shut the mouths of some people when its such a high profile relationship, but what keeps couples that have affairs who aren’t rich from talking? What’s the big deal about being honest? I know, I know, that’s the morally upstanding answer–Just Be Honest. But isn’t it time that people just be honest about wanting out of a marriage, instead of ruining it?
I just got back from a girls weekend with my mom and sister. I took off work Friday and my mom and I drove down to Anaheim Thursday night where we met my sister at a nearby hotel.
Thursday night we went to the Cheesecake Factory, where we ate tons of food (and I had one of my new favorite beers, Blue Moon). If you have ever been to Cheesecake Factory, you know they have HUGE portions. It’s so good but I feel like I’ve eaten way too much every time I go.
Friday we had a special Disneyland Park tour (I’ll upload pics later) that took us all around the park, showing us special places Walt Disney used to live and work in the park, as well as personal stories about Walt.
I’m so looking forward to this weekend at the L.A. Times Festival of Books. Chris and I plan to go to a panel Dave Eggars is on (that’s Chris’ favorite writer). Eggars has written several books, including, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (Simon & Schuster, 2000).
I’m hoping to see some friends there and might go to Sunday’s events too, since my favorite writer Jennifer Weiner is going to be there. Weiner writes chick-lit, one of my favorite genres. Her books Good in Bed and In Her Shoes are my favorites.
What are your favorite books and writers?
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