I think I've forgotten what normal feels like. I'm currently fist pumping like a champ because my fever is down to 101! That's practically normal, amIright?
Now, I know I complain a lot when I'm sick. This here blog won't really let me forget that. (Evidence here, here, here, here, and here. It's been a bad couple of years for my immune system.) BUT. This has legit been the worst couple of days of recent memory. I've caught the flu before, but I've never had it cause nausea and vomiting. According to the source of all wisdom, Wikipedia, this happens mostly with children. And Lorraine.
Lorraine Says: Today I'm Gonna Dance
I’ve decided that at the ripe, old age of 25 I am still too immature for public restrooms. I walked into one of the bathrooms at my job yesterday and it smelled really rude. This always freaks me out, and not for the obvious reason. I just worry that someone is going to walk in while I’m walking out and assume I made the smell happen. I know they're judging me.
I probably get this horrid fear of being judged from being incredibly curious and just a little judgmental myself. Mostly curious. Or, at least that's what I tell myself every night before bed.
There is this guy who stands on a cross street two blocks from where I work. Well, he doesn’t stand there- he dances there. Every day the sun is out, you’ll find him with his iPod, dancing on the corner to some music only he can hear. I’m 99% sure it’s hip hop, though, or else he’s found a very unique way to express himself to classical music.
There is no sign asking for money. There is no ready explanation. He just dances.
Guys, I need to know why.
I probably get this horrid fear of being judged from being incredibly curious and just a little judgmental myself. Mostly curious. Or, at least that's what I tell myself every night before bed.
There is this guy who stands on a cross street two blocks from where I work. Well, he doesn’t stand there- he dances there. Every day the sun is out, you’ll find him with his iPod, dancing on the corner to some music only he can hear. I’m 99% sure it’s hip hop, though, or else he’s found a very unique way to express himself to classical music.
There is no sign asking for money. There is no ready explanation. He just dances.
Guys, I need to know why.
Lorraine Says: Hey, Want This Snake to Kill You?
I keep telling myself that I’m going to get around to blogging about my sister’s pregnancy, specifically the situation surrounding how she ended up pregnant. I’ve been hesitant because it’s a story we’ve only shared with very close family and friends. She wanted it that way, and I ultimately have to respect her decision. And, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about anonymous blogging is that there is no such thing as anonymous blogging.
Still. There are so many things I’ve wanted to say about the reactions we’ve encountered, about blame, cause, effect and how difficult it all is, but not in the big, in-your-face way you’d expect. It’s all about a thousand little things that changed in one instant, and what it means to constantly deal with these things.
One day, I will blog about this all. Today, though, I’m going to tell you about one of those thousand little changes:
Still. There are so many things I’ve wanted to say about the reactions we’ve encountered, about blame, cause, effect and how difficult it all is, but not in the big, in-your-face way you’d expect. It’s all about a thousand little things that changed in one instant, and what it means to constantly deal with these things.
One day, I will blog about this all. Today, though, I’m going to tell you about one of those thousand little changes:
Lorraine Says: Yes, I'm Going to Mention the Quater Life Crisis
On my drive back to work today, after lunch, I thought about feeding money into a meter, just so I could park closer to the main entrance. It was already starting to drizzle, and the odds were that by time six o’clock rolled around, it would be downright storming. I opened my change holder in the middle console of my car and was greeted by the sight of a rather flimsy five dollar bill.
YES.
I actually picked up the bill and said, “yay! Money!” I then promptly put in back in the change dish and closed the lid. Maybe I’ll need it later or maybe I’ll see it again some day in the future when I could use a found-money-pick-me-up.
Because it will pick me up. That’s just the way finding something that was yours all along works. You never knew you lost it, but you sure are glad you found it.
YES.
I actually picked up the bill and said, “yay! Money!” I then promptly put in back in the change dish and closed the lid. Maybe I’ll need it later or maybe I’ll see it again some day in the future when I could use a found-money-pick-me-up.
Because it will pick me up. That’s just the way finding something that was yours all along works. You never knew you lost it, but you sure are glad you found it.
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Lorraine Says: The Weird Girl at the Lunch Table. Of Life.
I’m working very hard to keep my new co-workers from thinking I am weird. It’s hard when I spend so much time: bouncing around in my office chair, drumming my fingers on the desk, making funny faces at my computer screen and jumping from here to high heaven whenever someone looks over the wall of my cube to talk to me.
Also, yesterday, my new boss Long introduced me officially at the ops meeting and asked me to talk about myself and what I liked to do outside of the office.
Answers I don’t usually like to lead with: nail polish shopping, zebra cake eating, blogging, blogging, or more blogging. So, I went with the safe, “I like long walks on the beach.”
JUST KIDDING. I said movie watching and book reading and friend... hanging... with. (I actually said that exact sentence. Winner, winner.)
And so, of course, my boss asked me what I’m currently reading.
Actual answer: Fifty Shades of Grey.
Lorraine Says: Hand Placement
Sometimes it seems to me that life is a series of wanting what you don’t have.
Yesterday, when I finally got home after my first day of work, visiting my nieces, dance class, and a trip to outright abuse an M&M McFlurry, I felt the satisfaction that settles after a long day. I was tired, yes, but in a good way. It felt like I’d earned the right to shower, remain pantsless, and settle into bed. It was nice.
This morning, when my alarm clock went off, telling me it was time to do it all over again, I felt a wash of nostalgia. Remember a few weeks ago, I thought to myself, when you sat around a lot and ate tons of Pop-Tarts, barely combed your hair and slept as much as you wanted? Why did you give that up again?
Except I forgot that when I was sitting around, eating Pop-Tarts, having my three year old niece tell me I should fix my hair, all I wanted was activity, and the satisfaction of a long day.
There is no cure, really, for the longing. It’s an equal curse to never be satisfied and to never want more. The mission in these upcoming day, should I force myself to accept it, will be to live in the moment. And I’ve started already. I nearly skipped into work this morning, settling into my oddly proportioned cube, and thanked God for what I have in the right now. Because whether I remember this fact at seven o’clock in the morning or not, this is what I wanted. I’m going to enjoy every bit of it until it’s time to want something more. Not something past; something new.
Yesterday, when I finally got home after my first day of work, visiting my nieces, dance class, and a trip to outright abuse an M&M McFlurry, I felt the satisfaction that settles after a long day. I was tired, yes, but in a good way. It felt like I’d earned the right to shower, remain pantsless, and settle into bed. It was nice.
This morning, when my alarm clock went off, telling me it was time to do it all over again, I felt a wash of nostalgia. Remember a few weeks ago, I thought to myself, when you sat around a lot and ate tons of Pop-Tarts, barely combed your hair and slept as much as you wanted? Why did you give that up again?
Except I forgot that when I was sitting around, eating Pop-Tarts, having my three year old niece tell me I should fix my hair, all I wanted was activity, and the satisfaction of a long day.
There is no cure, really, for the longing. It’s an equal curse to never be satisfied and to never want more. The mission in these upcoming day, should I force myself to accept it, will be to live in the moment. And I’ve started already. I nearly skipped into work this morning, settling into my oddly proportioned cube, and thanked God for what I have in the right now. Because whether I remember this fact at seven o’clock in the morning or not, this is what I wanted. I’m going to enjoy every bit of it until it’s time to want something more. Not something past; something new.
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Lorraine Says: Just Kidding Guys!
I got a job everyone! Babysitting Her Nieces Lorraine is no more and now here comes HayCarumba Lorraine, because that is in fact the company that hired me.
I know you are all very happy, mostly because now I can stop whining about interviews and unemployment. I'm okay if that's why you are happy. I can accept that.
Truth is, I'm happy to be employed, and it's a good job, better money, better benefits and a good position, where as before I was an assistant. I'm mostly listing these things for myself because I can't for the life of me get excited about working at this place. I don't know what it is about going to work again, after only three months, that is intimidating the crap out of me. And I just want to punch myself in the teeth because this is what I wanted! Isn't it? ISN'T IT.
I know this will pass, because all things do and that's something blogging continually teaches me things. There's nothing like having things stored in cache to remind you of the transitory nature of life.
On Monday I was entertained because I realized that I knew that Gailey-bird's favorite song to sing while on the potty is "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." I know this about her! She's her own little personality and it's amazing. Then, on Tuesday I was accepting a job and making an office supply wishlist. In the midst of a constantly changing story, I just sometimes wish I could tag on a "just kidding" on certain things and have everyone laugh and brush it off.
Cutting off all my hair and looking something like Tootie from The Facts of Life a few years ago? JUST KIDDING.
Those multicolored braces I used to rock in middle school? JUST KIDDING.
Picking pharmacy as my major out of high school? JUST KIDDING.
Back to back vacations in 2009 while I was unemployed? JUST KIDDING.
A Twix and a soda for lunch every day for a year in high school? JUST KIDDING.
Wasting so much time during this stint of unemployment even though I swore I wouldn't? SUPER JUST KIDDING.
But alas, no such luck my dear friends. I'm just kidding about just kidding, too. That's totally immature.
My second interview last week was really strange. It was with the president of HayCarumba and because I was seriously not serious about landing this job, I was probably more relaxed than I should've been.
He scanned my resume and immediately noticed that I'd worked for Velveeta Crap Watches. "Oh, so you know the Crap family then?" he asked. I smiled and said that I did. He asked me what I thought of them and in my head I thought two things: this is a trap. I knew this would eventually happen.
I knew someone would eventually recognize them. Anyways, I told him they were kind people, because "kind" was the first positive word that popped into my head when I was really thinking, "selfish! rude! evil! liars! condescending! mean!" It's a miracle I didn't say something like, "they is good" and drool on myself.
He just looked at me with a look that said, "bull shit, my friend," and I kept smiling because there was no way I was going to talk bad about my former employer with a potential employer.
"Kind is not the word I'd use," he said. "From where I know them from, they are known as anything but."
And I just kept smiling like a freakin' toddler in a tiara, guys.
But he's right. They aren't kind.
And then I read a book this week where the main character has this realization about herself (that she isn't especially kind) I started wonder if I was.
I'm not sure that I'm especially kind at all.
My mother was telling a story to my aunts last week, about how she used to scold me for being overly affectionate. I used to want to hug my teachers and classmates and just about everyone, basically. She would tell me not to hug people unless they hugged me first, because you never know who wanted to be touched.
She was telling this story in lament, because she blames herself for over correcting me into, well, me. We'll just say I'm more affection selective now-a-days.
I'm not entirely sure where this whole story came from. I just connected a bunch of stuff in my head. Ta-da! Blog post.
My dear readers, thank you for all your support during these last few months. Really. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. I also extend these two questions to you: what life event would you like to stick a "just kidding" after? And do you consider yourself kind?
Or, you know, tell me how glad you are that I won't be complaining anymore.
It's alright. I still like all of your faces.
I know you are all very happy, mostly because now I can stop whining about interviews and unemployment. I'm okay if that's why you are happy. I can accept that.
Truth is, I'm happy to be employed, and it's a good job, better money, better benefits and a good position, where as before I was an assistant. I'm mostly listing these things for myself because I can't for the life of me get excited about working at this place. I don't know what it is about going to work again, after only three months, that is intimidating the crap out of me. And I just want to punch myself in the teeth because this is what I wanted! Isn't it? ISN'T IT.
I know this will pass, because all things do and that's something blogging continually teaches me things. There's nothing like having things stored in cache to remind you of the transitory nature of life.
On Monday I was entertained because I realized that I knew that Gailey-bird's favorite song to sing while on the potty is "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." I know this about her! She's her own little personality and it's amazing. Then, on Tuesday I was accepting a job and making an office supply wishlist. In the midst of a constantly changing story, I just sometimes wish I could tag on a "just kidding" on certain things and have everyone laugh and brush it off.
Cutting off all my hair and looking something like Tootie from The Facts of Life a few years ago? JUST KIDDING.
Those multicolored braces I used to rock in middle school? JUST KIDDING.
Picking pharmacy as my major out of high school? JUST KIDDING.
Back to back vacations in 2009 while I was unemployed? JUST KIDDING.
A Twix and a soda for lunch every day for a year in high school? JUST KIDDING.
Wasting so much time during this stint of unemployment even though I swore I wouldn't? SUPER JUST KIDDING.
But alas, no such luck my dear friends. I'm just kidding about just kidding, too. That's totally immature.
My second interview last week was really strange. It was with the president of HayCarumba and because I was seriously not serious about landing this job, I was probably more relaxed than I should've been.
He scanned my resume and immediately noticed that I'd worked for Velveeta Crap Watches. "Oh, so you know the Crap family then?" he asked. I smiled and said that I did. He asked me what I thought of them and in my head I thought two things: this is a trap. I knew this would eventually happen.
I knew someone would eventually recognize them. Anyways, I told him they were kind people, because "kind" was the first positive word that popped into my head when I was really thinking, "selfish! rude! evil! liars! condescending! mean!" It's a miracle I didn't say something like, "they is good" and drool on myself.
He just looked at me with a look that said, "bull shit, my friend," and I kept smiling because there was no way I was going to talk bad about my former employer with a potential employer.
"Kind is not the word I'd use," he said. "From where I know them from, they are known as anything but."
And I just kept smiling like a freakin' toddler in a tiara, guys.
But he's right. They aren't kind.
And then I read a book this week where the main character has this realization about herself (that she isn't especially kind) I started wonder if I was.
I'm not sure that I'm especially kind at all.
My mother was telling a story to my aunts last week, about how she used to scold me for being overly affectionate. I used to want to hug my teachers and classmates and just about everyone, basically. She would tell me not to hug people unless they hugged me first, because you never know who wanted to be touched.
She was telling this story in lament, because she blames herself for over correcting me into, well, me. We'll just say I'm more affection selective now-a-days.
I'm not entirely sure where this whole story came from. I just connected a bunch of stuff in my head. Ta-da! Blog post.
My dear readers, thank you for all your support during these last few months. Really. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know. I also extend these two questions to you: what life event would you like to stick a "just kidding" after? And do you consider yourself kind?
Or, you know, tell me how glad you are that I won't be complaining anymore.
It's alright. I still like all of your faces.
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