Random Wonderings

Lately, I have been having a lot of random thoughts that I keep wanting to write down but before I can, I forget them.

I decided something for myself - a resolution of sorts but one that I'm so excited about that I didn't want to wait for a new year to put it into action. I've always said I wanted to go to more Red Sox games than I actually go to, and why? What is the reason why I don't? There really isn't a good reason. It's 2 hours away, I know how to get in and out, I can get standing room tickets for like 20 or 30 bucks. So here's the bottom line. I WILL go to one Red Sox game a month for the duration of the season - more if possible. There's really no reason why I can't... and I really WANT to so there you go. I'm doing it.

Today, I wondered how much I give to the Salvation Army every Christmas season...not because I want to quantify my charitable giving, just because I'm curious. If a person gives a little bit, every SINGLE time they see a Salvation Army bucket, how much would that be? Sometimes, you have cash and you want to put in a couple dollars or sometimes you don't have any cash and only like 17 cents in your wallet but you still do it every time. How much would that be? I'm gonna try to keep track, but more importantly, I'm gonna make it a point to not walk past a Salvation Army bucket without putting something in it.

I randomly got the urge to change my bedroom around on Friday. After everything that's happened in the last 6 months, I needed to see it in a different way, maybe hoping that that will change the memories or at least move them aside, lessen their weight. Friday, I took my bed apart, moved it around and remade it in a new spot. It's like I have a brand-new room. It's been exactly the same since the day I moved in and I've never really had a reason to change it but I'm so glad I listened to my instincts this time. It feels like a completely different place and that's exactly what I wanted.

Switchy, switchy. Changey, changey.

Gut Check Time

Time to reset.

Introspective moment

I wish I was one of those people who could take a sick day without being sick and not feel guilty. Instead, I'm the kind of person who would (and has) drag myself off my deathbed to go in just so my duties aren't uncovered or covered by someone who doesn't know the system. I'd rather do a crappy job myself because I feel like shit than let someone else come in and do a crappy job because they don't know any better. I've been told multiple times by multiple people, if you're sick, if you need a mental health day, take a day off. So why can't I do that? Why is that sense of guilt so crippling?

If I could figure that out, maybe I could explain why I have 43 sick days saved up. I accumulate 1.5 a month so how many months is that that I haven't taken a sick day. It's 28 and 2/3 months...divided by 9-month school calendars - that's more than 3 years. I could probably count on 2 hands the number of sick days I've taken in 3 and 1/2 years. That's good. Dedication. Yes, for the most part it is dedication... What part of it isn't dedication is guilt and fear that I'll be percieved as someone who isn't a team player, who's not tough. But here's the thing, it's okay to not be tough enough to go to work sick or take the occasional mental health day. It IS okay... I know that. So what's the hang up? I would encourage anyone else to do it but somehow, in my head, it's not okay for me. I don't deserve the same rest that other people do. What IS that?

Why are my legs so sore?

Okay, maybe I know why but they shouldn't still feel like this a week later.

It's shocking how quickly a month can pass before you realize you haven't seen people you're used to seeing at least once a week. I don't like it. I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen again. I got to hang out with the Domer-Shanks twice this week and it was like... a sigh of relief. Ahhh, okay, things are fine.

In the last couple weeks, I've been really throwing myself into taking a lot of pictures. I've always been the one with the camera but the difference now is that I'm trying to use a little more artistry in the shots that I take. I'm trying different angles, different shutter speeds, different settings on the camera to see what kind of different looks I can get. I am finding some new purposefullness in this and I really like it.

There's no kind of sense this could make

Add getting spat at and on to the list of things I absolutely cannot handle.

I'm in a weird spot where I don't feel content with anything and that bugs me. I've been 25 for like 7 months; is that what this is? Quarter-life crisis?

"Tell the Devil I said 'hey' when you get back to where you're from"

Once in a great while, a song will come along that just puts everything into perspective and clears all the clouds away. I found such a song today and I legit cannot stop listening to it. It's basically been on repeat since I got home this weekend from a fabulous weekend in Ohio.

Grenade by Bruno Mars. I can't explain it really without sitting down with you and playing the song and talking over it annoyingly and every once in a while stopping it and being like "Now, did you hear that part?" or "See the beat there?" - it's everything. It's the lyrics that are a little harsh but still really clever and pointed. It's the beat under the song, kind of like this galloping pace that makes the song sound... urgent, in a way. It's the background vocals that are in perfect sync and harmony that add so much more dimension to the song. It's the emotion that he sings with that makes me feel like he really means what he's saying. You can hear the pain, anger, resentment, and this weird sense of resignation, commitment under duress. I don't think there's a music video for this song but I can picture one in my head that I think would fit it so well. Dark desert plains with a lightning storm behind him and his band while he plays the crap out of the song. Maybe some flamenco dancers to the side. I can see it perfectly in my head. Close your eyes and you can see it too.

This song is just hitting me in a way that I can't explain and I love it when that happens. It makes me feel like there IS someone else who gets it.

Someone please explain it to me.

Because I do. not. get. it.

Stop calling yourself a Teen Activist.

I'm REALLY loving Dancing with the Stars. I'm surprised how much I'm enjoying this cast because when it was announced, I thought to myself, "Wow, this is gonna be crap. These people are terrible choices." Wrong, Dane. They're awesome.

Here's the thing though. Bristol Palin. Even though she is growing on me, it bugs me to no end that she calls herself a teen activist. She's advocating abstinence, which to me seems insanely hypocritical. You HAVE a baby out of wedlock, how can you NOW say, Yeah, don't have sex. Why not advocate for contraception instead? Clearly, she didn't have the presence of mind to take her own advice, so why not be realistic. Slash - is she, by advocating abstinence, indirectly saying that she wishes she had abstained and therefore wishes her life could be sans child? You already have the baby, doesn't really seem like the time or circumstance to be preaching "don't have sex."

What is this?

I'm having a weird moment right now. It's 10:20, I know I have to turn the iTunes off, put on the red sox game from earlier today, turn off my lights and go to sleep but I have this weird feeling in my chest like... I can't do it. I can't. I won't. What is this?

I don't even know

I don't understand people who lie. Obviously, I've lied before, but about things are that unimportant in the grand scheme of things. I don't think I've ever lied with the intention of hurting someone. At this point in life, at this age, lying just seems like more energy that it's worth.

There's a team on the Amazing Race that are A Cappella singers from Harvard and they make the rest of us look terrible. I just want the world to know that not all A Cappella singers are colassal geeks like these two guys. No one would be sitting in the back of a cab would SING "please drive faster." Stupid.

It's also set in Ghana and that makes me miss Clyde.

What does that MEAN?!?!

Last night, I had a dream where I quite literally had to jump ship and I've been thinking about it all day.

I was on a big ship, kind of like I was in Titanic, but not ON Titanic...it was more like a Carnival Cruise ship. It was evening, it was dark-ish and there was something wrong with the ship that caused it to go full speed ahead and even though there was nothing out ahead of the ship but open ocean, people were jumping off the back into the wake as though that was clearly the safest thing to do. They're treading water and yelling at me, "Dana! You HAVE TO JUMP! JUST JUMP! QUICKLY!!" and I'm yelling back, "I HAVE TO MAKE SURE EVERYONE ELSE IS OFF THE SHIP" so I do a lap around the top deck and there's no one else there so I go to the back of the ship and the last thing I remember is standing on the back, looking at the ocean, littered with people who are safe in the water, telling me to jump, and realizing that I'm actually gonna have to do this. I have to jump.

And then, I woke up.

Four words ...... WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???

Irritation on top of irritation followed by irritation

I have to start this by saying this whole thing I'm about to complain about is something I shouldn't even be whining about because it starts with me taking for granted that my mom usually does at least part of my laundry for me. But I'm gonna complain anyway because I'm mad.

I started a big load of laundry at home and put it in the dryer before I left for the afternoon, assuming that because it happens every. other. time., that my mom would at least take my clothes out when the dryer buzzed and then I would fold them when I came back to get them later. So I go down to get my clothes when I get home again, hours after putting them in the dryer, and everything is still wet. Annoyed. It's already 7 and after being out all day, I just wanna get back to my apartment, like immediately. It's just what I want. So, I put the clothes back in, start it up again and go to the Chinese restaurant to get myself dinner since obviously, I have another hour to wait at home before I can get my clothes. Tonight, the food was not good. It was like... you know you're gonna get sick as you eat it... so I stopped eating and threw it out. Annoyed again. Finally, I hear the buzz of the dryer and go back downstairs to get my stuff. IT IS STILL WET. WHY??? WHY TONIGHT?? Why right now when all I wanna do is go home? WHY??? Oh, because the belt on the drum snapped and is therefore unfixable tonight. FanFREAKINGtastic.

The thing that makes me really mad is that I have to hang up all my clothes at 8 at night on the clothesline in the basement and ergo cannot take them home and hang them up in my closet in rainbow order like I do EVERY Sunday night and feel ready for the week. Instead, I have to go back to the house tomorrow at 4:30 when cheerleading is over and take them down and fold them and probably let Racer out because he'll have to go and that will take an extra 10 minutes and then bring my clothes home and scramble to put them away and do everything else I need to do before the plans I have at night and I don't like that. I hate having to scramble.

Here's where I don't have a right to complain but that is not going to stop me. ALL of this could have been avoided if my mom had just checked the dryer when she came home like she does every. single. other. time I do laundry at home. She would have checked them, felt they were still wet, tried them again, realized something was wrong with the dryer and probably hung them up on the line hours before I did it and they probably would have been dry enough for me to take home tonight. It's not that I expect her to do it FOR me so that I don't have to, it's that if someone else had checked earlier, it all could have been avoided and I couldn't be that person because I wasn't there. If I had been, I WOULD have done it myself.

SO irritated and I don't care if it's wrong.

Maybe it only happens in the movies...

Someday, I would love to come home from somewhere and have someone waiting for me at my apartment...sitting on the stairs, just waiting for me to come home. I very rarely get surprised in general and the times that someone really pulled one over on me, it was amazing. I wish it happened more. I wish it would happen like that. Maybe it's an unrealistic hope, like something out of a movie, but a girl can dream.

"Did you hear a plane crashed into the World Trade Center?"

When I was junior in high school, third period English had just started, the bell had just rung, when Matt Dietz said aloud to my class - Did you hear a plane just crashed into the World Trade Center? Half the class looked at him in disgust... Dude, that's not funny. Why in the hell would you say that? Not five minutes later, the principal came over the loudspeaker and said "Stop what you're doing, and put on the TV in your classroom. If students need to make phone calls, let them."

It would be a lie to say the rest of the day was a blur, I remember every, single second of it. I remember watching the news in 3rd period as the second plane hit and not knowing if it was a new plane hitting or a replay of the first plane. I remember panicking about where my dad was that day because I knew sometimes he went to New York for deliveries and finally talking to my mom and her saying, "Dana, he's okay. He's not there." - I remember sitting in the dark, in Mr. Patrina's room, my 4th period AP U.S. History class combining with another, to watch as the Towers fell. I remember sitting next to Cara and her whispering to me that she was scared about the Sears Tower in Chicago because that's where her family was. I remember answering a room phone because my teacher wasn't there to a request for another kid in my class to go to the office immediately. His dad made it out alive. I remember being afraid to go outside for lunch that day.

Even after 9 years, there's not a single second of that day that isn't scorched into my brain. I spent most of today watching 9/11 documentaries on the History Channel, more out of respect because I don't know how else to honor that day. It seems silly to me that I feel like I'm doing something in honor of it and all I'm doing is watching TV but I've been thinking about it all day long. How can I ever complain about anything after remembering that day?

I can't believe I ever let it get like that

WHO IS THAT???? Lately, as I've lost more and more weight, I've been looking at pictures of me from college, mostly senior year and I truly don't recognize myself. It makes me sad. I really do think of college as one of the happiest times in my life but I look at myself in these pictures and think, "How could I have been happy looking like that?" I'm not doing this to show off. I don't really consider it something that deserves congratulations...it feels more like.. a wrong that I righted. It's embarrassing. I just can't believe the difference. That doesn't even look like me. Who IS that girl? She's smiling, she's surrounded by people, but she can't really be happy in that body, that face. After all this work, allllll those pounds, I'm happy now - as an ex-fatty.

I don't think it's a good thing when...

--My dentist calls me juicy. That is bad. It's a very polite way of saying, "Damn, girl. You drool a LOT."

"Cujo" is on tv tonight. Part of me is wondering if it's really as scary as I've heard it is so I'm recording it but I'm by myself tonight so I'm thinking it's probably not the best idea to try and watch it alone. I think I'd watch a lot more scary movies if there was someone next to me for me to burrow into when things got rough.

There are pregnant people EVERYWHERE. Seriously, you're taking over the world.

As the novocaine is wearing off and half of my mouth is pins and needles, I'm wondering what it would be like to kiss when your mouth feels this way. I kinda feel like it might be a little sloppy because you can't necessarily feel what you're doing but I also think it'd be kind of awesome.

I'm disappointed in the Red Sox. It doesn't seem like they've been trying very hard lately and that pisses me off. I would LOVE to know how many bases-loaded walks they've given out between Sunday, Monday and Tuesday's games. It's gotta be close to, if not more than, ten. Fight for it, you bastards. This is not impossible. It's highly unlikely, yes, but so was coming back down 3 games to the Yankees in 2004. I would say this is less impossible than that. At least LOOK like you're trying.

There is no flow to this at all. That only slightly bothers me tonight. I turned the edit button in my brain off... well the 'edit for content" button at least.

At least I can make a damn good pie.

Sometimes, I feel like I could count on one hand the things I do really well.

I know, realistically, that this isn't the case but there's no accounting for feelings or their sometimes unknown origins. One thing that is always among those things I count myself good at is making apple pie. So today, that's what I did. And yes, it is delicious.

Things I love:
Follow through
Consistency
Paychecks
Skype


Things I hate:
Getting to work before anyone else
Being the only para with a student
20-minute lunches
Being ignored
Red Sox off days
Being alone
Being in the kind of mood where all I want to do is complain and being able to do nothing about it.

Epiphany

I just had an amazing epiphany that I don't know what to do with and don't want to forget.

It wasn't even like it was something I was mulling over for a long time and eventually came to this conclusion - it was like I had the end-resulting a ha! moment first and then worked backwards from it to see if I was correct. The epiphany (which, surprisingly, is a very difficult word to type) is this: Literally anyone I consider to be a friend, a real true friend, not a "facebook" friend, can be designated to one of three different subgroups: A) is/was married. B) pregnant or a current parent or C) moving/living far away from me.

You don't believe me? Try it. If you're reading this and you're not my mom (which would still count because she fits into group A and group B), you fall into one (sometimes 2 and even in a few cases, 3) of these 3 categories. Rachel is moving - group C. Kate is married and lives in Texas - group a and group c. Cara is married and lives in Washington - group a and group c. Jenn is married, pregnant and living in Oregon - groups a,b and c. Vanessa lives in Boston - group c. Allie lives in Boston - group c. J.Rho has kids and once was married - a and b. Bena is married and has 4 kids - groups a and b. You see what I mean? And I could keep going. Want me to list every friend I have? I could do it.

I have NO idea what this means, or if it even means anything at all. Like I said, the a ha moment came first and the analysis came after. I can't even rightly call it analysis, it's more of like... fact-checking. Yep, I'm right about that one, that one, that one. This epiphany didn't come out of self-pity, bitterness, loneliness - honestly, I don't know where it came from but there it is, nonetheless.

Back to life, back to reality

Aaaand suddenly, August is gone. Now, I have to look forward, get myself ready to start work again (thank GOD,) get myself back on a regular schedule and dive back into real life. I'm actually really excited about this. This summer has been a confusing one, to say the least. I haven't known what it's like to not work at least 10 hours a day every day of the summer, for at least four years so I knew this summer would be one of adjustment. That's not to say I haven't enjoyed it. I wouldn't have been able to do any of the things I did if I'd been working at camp. - Trip to Newport for 4th of July? Nope. Beach Day with Liz? Nope. Two John Mayer concerts on back to back nights? Nope. Weeklong Cruise? BIG Nope.

Last night, we went to a Red Sox game and for 20 bucks, we got awesome standing room tickets, right against the rail and wound up being only about 30 rows back of home plate to see the 11th inning walk off home run Jed Lowrie hit after having dropped a foul ball he SHOULD have caught for an out in the top of the inning. Amazing. And also, something I probably wouldn't have even thought to do if I'd been working at camp.

So, in the end, it was an excellent summer that hit me some big milestones and I've loved it... buttttt I'm 100% ready to go back to work. Check back in like 2 weeks when I'll be begging for summer.

"I may as well watch while you lose my money."

Normally, I would have a problem getting up at 4 a.m. on a Saturday. Even on this day, I kinda had a problem with it. Two things softened the blow. A) Racer was sleeping next to me. B) The reason I was getting up at 4 a.m. was to go to the airport to fly to Miami for a cruise. By 6 a.m., we were on the plane, flying directly to Florida and straight to our ship. We landed at 9 and were shuttled to our ship before noon even though we weren't set to depart until 5 p.m.

The last time I tried this, my flights were delayed to the point of entertaining the idea of Cara going by herself. To not have to rush this time, to actually have hours and hours to spare, was kinda nice albeit a little boring. We went up to the Lido Deck, the 9th floor, and hit the buffet for lunch, one of many frustrating waits in a line of people who don't know how to follow the leader. Before the ship left, we had to do what they called a "safety briefing", which meant they lined every, single passenger up in rows on the 4th deck to tell us what to do in case of any number of emergent situations. What it felt like to me and every other person standing in those lines was standing in a pressure cooker. I've never sweated so much from simply standing upright and still. I had sweat in places I didn't know could sweat. Yes, it was hot. It was disgusting, in fact. What I don't understand is what the people behind me thought they would accomplish by complaining a little too loudly about the heat, the moisture and the length of the "safety briefing." Do they think that if they say "It's HOT AS BALLS OUT HERE, THIS IS RIDICULOUS." a little bit louder that the life jacket demonstrator in front of us, who is most likely a waiter or a room steward or some of run of the mill staff member, is going to say "You know what, you're right. This IS ridiculous. I am calling off this whole drill. Y'all don't need to know what to do if the ship SINKS. Let's go do some drinkin!!"

At night, we went to dinner, where the food was not only delicious but beautiful. I almost didn't want to eat because I'd have messed up the presentation. After that, we went to the Palladium, this beautiful lounge/theater where we spent a lot of our time to see different shows, play game shows and Bingo, and watch other ship guests play game and humiliate themselves. That night, I was one number, B-11, away from winning $500.

On our third day, we docked in Ocho Rios, Jamaica at about 9 in the morning. We went to Dolphin Cove for an encounter with a dolphin named Mitch. I miss him already. I need to have a pet dolphin at some point in my life. We got to kiss him, pet him and throw a ring for him to retrieve. The only thing I would have changed about it was that I would have made it longer. I could have played with Mitch all day long. As we sat on the dock, in the distance we saw lightning and heard thunder booming out across the ocean. As we all know, I LOVE thunderstorms so the idea of getting caught in one in Jamaica was very exciting to me and let me say this, watching a storm develop over the open ocean is an entirely different experience than watching one on land. You can see hear everything, see everything and it seems more powerful somehow. Totally ate it up.

After the dolphin encounter, we were taken to Dunn's River Falls, a 600-foot river waterfall carved out of the side of a mountain that comes all the way down to the beach. Let me point out that this excursion was my mom's idea. "It looks fun," she said when we looked at the pictures on the computer. Standing at the bottom of a 600-foot waterfall, in the middle of a monsoon that is pelting us with rain, thunder and lightning crashing around us, slippery rocks forming hills and valleys and narrows paths all leading straight up, it did not look so fun to her. As we started our climb, holding hands with each other and others we didn't know, she looked back at me, already on her first step up, and said "I don't wanna do this." Sorry, lady. As hard as it looked from the bottom and as difficult as it was to maintain balance with only your feet because we were instructed to hold hands, Mom made it about 80% of the way. There was never any question that I was going all the way to the top and it was AWESOME. I've never done anything like that before, I wish I could do it again. The problem arose when we tried to get out of the park and back to the bus. We somehow got separated from our group and several very nice (because they wanted us to buy their stuff) Jamaican guys who said we were pretty, are you married, la la la, converged on us. When I asked how to get to the bus, one of them said "Oh it's right here, and let us into a tent. No, I don't think this is where the EXIT is. When we finally (for the 10th time) said we did not want to buy anything and just needed help getting back to the bus, SUDDENLY, there was no help to be found but at least it was nice to be left alone. At night, we caught some gameshows in the Palladium, including Sail & Sign Wipeout Bingo, which cleared out the winner's onboard account balance. The best part of the night was The Game of Love - a variation of the Newlywed Game where they pulled 3 couples up to the stage and asked them all questions ranging from "What holiday describes your night last night?" to "Who your husband's last girlfriend and how would you describe her?" The three couples had been married 2 days, 20 years and 51 years respectively. At the end, the husbands, who had been backstage the whole time, came out wearing ridiculous underwear, even the oldest guy, who couldn't have been younger than 70.

Day 4 was Grand Cayman. We walked around shopping for awhile and then we went parasailing. The boat was manned by two guys and one of them turned out to be from Granby. Only I would have to go all the way to Grand Cayman to meet a dude from a town over. He was my age too, so we knew a ton of the same people. Parasailing was amazing, but like the dolphin encounter, too short. It was surprisingly peaceful and very quiet that high up. I could have stayed up there for hours. That night, after an amazing dinner and a show in the palladium about Paris that was really lame, I could tell Mom wanted to go to bed but I wanted to gamble. I had an itchy slot finger. I only had $28.50 on my card but I felt like something was going to happen. I said, "Mom, if you want to, you can go to bed. I know you're tired." - Her response, and I love looking back on it, the "if she only knew" of that moment. She says to me, "I may as well WATCH while you lose my money." - Fair enough. Maybe 4 spins in - TRIPLE FLAMING 7s. That is 1,000 credits. WHAT'S UP, $250??? It just kept dinging and dinging. How great is this? How can this get any better?? --- THIS is how - 4 minutes later - Triple 7's again - $100. OH MY GOD. That has to be it, right? WRONG. Two more $50 dollar jackpots after that - at the end of the night, I had won $373,.58 - I played down 23, stopped at $350 and left $50 on my card to play with the next day. Not bad for 45 minutes at the slot machine, huh?

Our last day was a day at sea. By that time, we were both exhausted and seen everything we thought we wanted to see. The day was fairly uneventful until dinner. We did the same dinner and a show (which was lame again.) as the night before. This time, I was the one ready to pack it in early since we were planning on getting up at 6:30 to leave the ship in Miami. Mom pulls out a 20 and says one more time. Just twenty bucks. So we went to the same machine, as if we'd go to any other one in the place, she sat down and within a few minutes, we heard that same, familiar ding ding ding ding ding ding over and over - 1,000 credits. And then another! and then ANOTHER! Mom cashed out with just under $300 of her own and we walked away.

Since our flight home wasn't until 8:40 on Thursday night and we docked at 8 a.m., we had all day to spend in Miami. We decided to do a Seaquarium excursion which was fun, because really, who doesn't love the aquarium. After lunch and hours and hours of waiting at the airport, we finally landed. Long week but filled with stuff I'm not ever going to forget. What an awesome vacation!!!

Ugh, Creepy Pete... stop being Creepy.

Yesterday, as I was waiting to pull out of my complex, Creepy Pete was pulling in and solidified his new nickname with one little motion. Instead of waving at me like a normal person with an open hand, Creepy Pete took his thumb and his index finger and tapped them together like a lobster claw... THAT was how he waved at me. That is not how a normal person waves at someone they've spoken to three whole times. That is how a CREEPY person waves. Creepete.

Okay, enough of this.

I'm killing Operation Shhh. It was not fun. Liz said experiments like this should only last as long as you want them to and I agree. All I did was prove to myself how many friends I have that I don't have access to if I don't use chat or text... there are a LOT and I miss them too much to not talk to them in an effort to try and deny what's in my nature. I'm a talker. There. Thank you, Captain Obvious. I made it two whole days, fantastic.

As part of Summer Ready Set Go, my student gets two weeks of "camp", and we're in the middle of the first week right now. I put the word camp in quotation marks because the only similarities it has to the definition of Camp that I know is that there is swimming involved and they sometimes play outside. This camp goes from 9-12 and an hour of that is taken up by swimming, changing and walking to the Apple Barn.. then it's snack, chalk time (which actually means the kids draw with chalk on the pavement while the "counselors" sit around the edges and don't interact with the kids at all.) and then a story (which, I'm sorry, it's the middle of summer, there is no reason why kids should be inside listening to poorly read stories when they could be playing outside.) When we finally do get outside, it's to play freeze tag...umm..hmm, what should we play next... maybe...blob tag....then um...hmm...should we read another story? Yeah, let's go BACK inside and read another story because we don't know what else to do....and then, umm.. a craft. A craft? Yeah, they can color for awhile.. and then, Oh! Time to go home.

Today, they put two jump ropes parallel to each other about a foot apart, had the kids stand in two lines to run and jump over the ropes and called it Jump The Bay. Because the game was so poorly explained and, let's just say it, lame... half of the kids just ran through "the bay". They would systematically move the ropes further apart but there was no element of competition or gamesmanship to keep the kids engaged. If you just ran over the ropes without jumping, that was totally fine. You can stay in and keep playing it inappropriately. In my head, I was screaming, "THIS IS NOT A GAME." Then after that exciting activity... hm... oh, yeah let's do the Limbo... which will be SUPERexcitin because obviously, if the kids just ran in circles OVER a rope, the next thing they'll be DYING to do is run UNDER the same rope, again with no outs and no clearly stated rules so the kids know what to do. If I hadn't had a kid to keep involved, it would have been comical. As it was, I was frustrated because I can't blame my little guy for being bored or disengaged because I was too.

I know my standards for how a camp is run or how activities are planned are insanely high because of all my years at Camp Chase but I don't think it's too much to ask for a few activities that are planned out a little more than..."umm, that didn't last as long as I thought, what should we do now?" I find myself wondering, "How is this 3-hour camp day TOO EFFING LONG??"... easy answer... it's boring as shit.

Why? Why would you? Why?

Okay, let's get down to it. First full day of Operation Shhh... marginally successful. It's unrealistic to think that I can keep myself completely separated from technology but my participation has been kept to a minimal level, which I'm very proud of.

Texts Recieved: 9
Texts Sent (in response only): 5
Texts Sent First: Only 1 and I had to do it because my bartender friend's wife had their first baby today and I had to tell Rachel.
Times I cheated and jumped on Facebook: I totally lost count sometime this afternoon but I didn't do anything; I just looked.

I'm starting to realize that this experiment might evolve into just kind of keeping track of how often I turn to virtual as opposed to real. To my credit - I did make 3 phone calls today that would have otherwise been texts.

The increase in productivity continued today: I made myself a real lunch and made enough for me to eat tomorrow, I took a 2-mile walk while talking on the phone, I went to Michael's and got myself a Prism Designs book, which basically is just a glorified coloring book and I'm not ashamed. Who says adults aren't allowed to color for pleasure? I did one of the pages in it and you know what, it looks great and it took me like an hour and a half.

I had a couple of weird dreams last night. One I wish was true, one I woke up from thinking "no effing way."

My neighbor who I wrote about earlier today, I actually had a conversation with, at the end of which he said, "We should have a drink sometime." and then he called me "Sweetie." Why? Why would you do that? Do you realize that my ability to make polite conversation does not in any way demonstrate a desire to drink with you so you can call me Sweetie some more? Sorry, Pete. Ain't gonna happen.

Man or Woman?

I have one neighbor next to me in my building and two downstairs. The guy across the hall's name is Peter. For months, no one lived in that apartment and I was kinda lonely, which is silly because I never socialized (or even met) the people that lived there before this new guy moved in. When he moved in, I said to myself, okay, I am going to meet and befriend this person. This person who from behind looked like he was about my age, based on how he dressed and the noises that I heard coming from his apartment. So one morning, I'm on my way out and I hear him telling someone his birthday over the phone - "1/15/70" - SEVENTY??? AS IN NINETEEN-SEVENTY? AS IN, YOU ARE FORTY YEARS OLD?

Well Peter, if this is the case, a little advice. Dress age-appropriately. The only 40-year-olds I know who wear saggy shorts, vans and polo shirts and wear backwards berets....oh, wait, I don't know any forty-year-olds that do that.

The other thing is that his voice is shockingly high for a man. I come home and I can hear a voice and my first instinct is "Oh, he must have a girl in there." but today, after hearing him through the door, I realized... nope, that is just him.... and his helium tank.

He is perfectly nice and I am picking on him for no reason. I blame Operation Shhh.

Operation Shhh

I think if this is going to be a real thing, it needs a name and that is it: Operation Shhh. If only to make me laugh at how ridiculous I'm being. Cuz, come on, how easy is it to make me be quiet? Really?

So if we're calling this Night One - here are the stats.
Texts Recieved - 6
Texts Sent - 4 (in response only.)
Times I've cheated and jumped on facebook (but not done anything, just looked): 10-ish. Balls.

Baby steps.

I also went through my email history and deleted a ton of old spams and emails from people I don't think I'll ever talk to again... because today for some reason, I am all about purging the clutter. It's remarkable the productivity I've enjoyed this afternoon. I took Racer for a walk AND a swim (until he got attacked by a stupid dog which is a whole nother story that ends with poor, little Bubs having a bite on his left ear :(, cleaned all the windows in my car, which turned the paper towels I was using black but hey, all the fingerprints are gone, took out the trash, cleaned the bathroom, went grocery shopping, called my mom and took a shower. And by the time all that was done, it was only 8. This is the issue that I'm having - what do I do for the last 3 hours before I go to bed.

I feel like Ross in that episode of Friends when he is forced into taking a sabbactical from work because he goes crazy over his boss eating his sandwich and, while living with Joey & Chandler, does a whole week's worth of stuff (according to Joey) in one morning. I'd love ideas for what to do with all this extra time.

I need a book. A really good book, a really good book that is like 1,000 pages. Or some other form of entertainment. Is it too early to start reading the dictionary?

Experiment

Yesterday, I started thinking about all the things I do on a consistent basis in terms of social networking, things for which I've earned a reputation.. like taking pictures of the sky, clouds, rainbows, etc., long-arm pictures, being signed into AIM, facebook, gchat and almost any other chat venue all the time, being only a text away... texting when I have literally nothing to say. Essentially, being in contact with one or more people in a virtual setting in a constant bid for interaction. Once, and this was like 5 years ago and I still have not lived it down, I texted Reed to tell him that I was eating cheetos.

I get crap for doing all of these things... but I started to think yesterday what people's perceptions would be if I just suddenly stopped doing them. What if an entire week went by without me sending a text or posting a status or picture or being signed into a chat engine. What would happen? People would probably think something had happened to me.

Here's the thing though... in this day and age, it's kind of impossible to have interactions with other people without these options. If I limited myself even just to phone calls, that cuts out probably everyone except my mom and the few friends I would need to call to make actual plans to visit. I want to try this but, for me especially, it's a big sacrifice. No... big is not the word. Huge. Mammoth. I feel like staying away from facebook would be difficult but it's less necessary for day to day plan-making. And there would have to be rules. Can I respond to texts that are sent by others first? Can I send texts that are for the sole purpose of making plans? No. That would totally defeat the purpose. Can I get on facebook through my phone just to check up on people? No.

Here's another thing? Who is going to monitor my progress? If you think I'm strong enough to do this on my own with no supervision, you must not know me very well. Without someone watching me to make sure I don't cheat, I'd make it maybe a day. But then if I do enlist someone to watch me, wouldn't it have to be someone I see in person? Because I can't very well have someone TEXTING me to make sure I'm not texting, or writing on my wall to make sure I'm not cheating on facebook, can I? No... I'm actually asking... can I do that?

And then what would I do with all these hours that would otherwise be spent at a computer or texting quickly with my thumb? What the hell would I do with myself? I can already tell you that I'd want to be with people out doing something. I rarely if ever feel a need to be completely by myself and have quiet. I don't like quiet. Even now as I sit here, there's music playing. What would I do?

Maybe what I should do is just start small. No facebook feels almost like an unattainable goal. How do I limit myself in that way? I think I could handle not sending texts; I'll just conveniently leave my phone where I don't have access to it. But then what if a day or two goes by and no one is looking for me. What if it doesn't worry anyone that my facebook status hasn't been updated in more than a day or two days. Is the fear of a non-reaction why I haven't tried this before? Ew. Dane. Come on, girl.

Okay so here's how it's gonna go. No AIM, which will suck. No facebook, which will ALSO suck. Only responding to texts initiated by others but only as a means of minimally necessary communication. Ugh, I already don't like it.

I just reread this and I feel like it makes me seem a little crazy. I promise I'm not. Merely curious. So please don't text me.... but if you like me.... text me anyway.

Slow down, Summer!

I can't believe it's late July already. I find myself in kind of a paradoxical situation because there are days and hours where I feel like time is not moving at all but then I look at the calendar and it's July 23? How the hell did that happen? There are four and a half weeks until school starts again and I know that I have a lot planned, I just hope the time passes at the right pace.

I have a goal for August 14 - to be under a certain weight and I need to remind myself of that. Constantly. It's completely doable; I just need a reminder every day. Before I crack that beer or reach for the oreos. The end. The end is in sight.

I got to feel a baby kick from the inside for the first time yesterday and there are no words to describe it but I'll try. I honestly don't know how I, baby-lover that I am, have gone my whole life without ever feeling a baby kick before. I went to lunch with Jenn, who I haven't seen in 3 years but it was like no time had passed - well, minus the fact that she's 7 months pregnant, and after we were done eating, she put her hand on her belly and was like, "Wow, he's kicking up a storm." She let me feel and he stopped. So we're sitting there, my arm outstretched across the table and pressed into her stomach, going "come on...come on..." and BAM. It's so cliche to say but it really did feel like an alien... punching at me from inside like, "HEY GET OFF ME." It was amazing.

It's kind of funny how immune to "I want this" disease I'm able to stay while I'm surrounded by friends who are all getting married and pregnant. I am SO happy for every single one of them and some day, I can't wait to experience that all myself but the more I see it, the more I think to myself - there is no way I could handle a baby right now... I mean, I would if I had no other choice but for now, being Auntie Dana is perfectly fine for me... and so is being a bridesmaid.

Simply because I'm so excited about things coming: Beach with Liz, Larkyn's 2nd Birthday Party, John Mayer in Mass., John Mayer at the Meadows, Cruise to Jamaica, Red Sox game. Whew.

People say things to me and I believe them. I'm starting to think this maybe isn't the way to go.

On the plus side - I'm about 8 lbs from another HUGE milestone. HUGE. I have to focus on the things that I can control and this is one of the big ones. Onward and downward.

Sidenote

PS - Down 28 since January. 18 to go. Hollaaaa

I'm so BORED

As long as I've worked at camp, 8 years, I've complained about having no downtime on either end of the summer between camp and whatever job or school experience bookends it. How STUPID was I?

For the first time in 8 years, I'm not working at camp and while I do miss it, I don't miss it enough to go back. What I miss is being occupied. Since school ended on June 21st, I have not worked and I am BORED OUT OF MY FREAKING MIND. I can't imagine how annoying I've been to my friends, who are mostly adults with families of their own, with the constant texting. "Hey, wanna hang out?", "Whatcha doin?", "You workin today?", "Wanna go for a walk?" Blah Blah Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Put me back to work.

Having all this time to "relax" is stressing me out. I know I didn't work full-time to begin with at school but at least my days were somewhat full. Now, I have to actively work to make plans so that I'm not sitting my apartment alone, twiddling my thumbs and watching "Saved By the Bell" reruns... which, yes, are still going strong.

Inspiration

I think I need to start watching "The Biggest Loser" every day. I seem to fall into a bit of a rut after every "Modular Challenge" weigh-in. Call it cockiness, call it giving myself a break. What I realize is that I need to not give myself a break or get lazy or cocky. I'm not done. I watch The Biggest Loser and I cry and I think about much harder they're working than I do and what they're getting out of it and I want that but I have to do it myself and I get inspired. They're all saying "Don't ever go back." Duly noted.

Back on track...

Down 17 since Jan. 11. 38 to go. And you know what's crazy, it doesn't feel impossible. Onward and downward.

DWTS, how could you do this to me?

From the very beginning of Dancing with the Stars, when it was just a 10-week stop-gap show so that ABC wouldn't have dead air in the middle of the summer, I have loved it. Every season, there are have been people who were awesome and people who sucked. Over the seasons, natural stereotypes emerged and they've been played into more and more each year. I'm sad to say that this season, from the announcement of the cast and with half an hour left to go in the premiere, this is without doubt the most disappointing season yet. I might even say it's the only time I've been disappointed.

Kate Gosselin is the one I have the most against. I loved Jon & Kate Plus 8 when it was just about a family and not about all the free stuff they could hoard while explointing their fame. She is a recently divorced mother of EIGHT. EIGHT kids under the age of 10. What the HELL is she doing throwing herself into a competition that could last 3 months with 8 hours of practice a day. What the hell is she thinking?? I can tell you... She's thinking "Cha CHING." Money grubbing whore.

The whole thing just pisses me off and the fact that I'm now complaining about what used to be the one thing a week I looked forward to pisses me off even more. GRRRRRR.

Girl Scout Cookies are the DEV-IL.

Shitballs. I was doing so well with the girl scout cookies and now, bam. I am sitting here, in an exercise in stupidity and self-destructiveness, watching The Biggest Loser WHILE eating tagalongs out of the tray. Dana. You're an idiot. Really, a huge idiot. March has not been such a good month - no, okay, let me rephrase, I have not been good in March. Not March's fault. I have this idea in my head that because it's my birthday month, that I'm allowed to slip back into my old ways. Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I think now I'm just turning to damage control. I know I'm not winning the modular challenge this month. I need to get rid of these cookies and just completely start over again. Restart all my rules and not waver. I think I have to ground myself from The Olive again. Balls. I really missed The Olive.

No posts in 2010?

Until J.Rho asked me why I haven't posted in 2010, I didn't realize that I hadn't posted since I did that "Year in Review" one and here it is, the Middle of March already. Sorry, I'm so slow!!

So far, 2010 is going pretty well. Work was really difficult for awhile because I was cruising along with my little wonderchild, starting to read and write and BAM, "congratulations," you're getting switched to a much more difficult and much more physically aggressive kid because you're doing "such a good job." I've seen it before, I've experienced it before but that doesn't make it any easier. At camp, we do it to the best counselors. The logic is this: You're so capable and you're doing such a great job that we are going to load you up with the most difficult kids to manage because we know YOU can do it and our confidence in your peers is less so. Really, this is a reward. What it feels like is a punishment. It's a pat on the back complete with new procedures that are constantly changing to adapt to new behaviors and bruises. Congrats and watch your face for the headbutts. Yay. For a while, I had a huge chip on my shoulder about it but I can see improvement. I can see that even though it's not great, it's getting better every day... because of my effort.

Two nights ago, I had a dream that my dad died. I remember parts of it and planning the funeral and being at the funeral and feeling the loss and being devastated. When I woke up, I still had that sick feeling and I had to remind myself that it wasn't real. When I got on facebook later, I saw that my friend's dad had passed away overnight. The worst loss I've experienced in my life was when Max died and it physically makes me feel a pit in my stomach when I think about it. I still get teary talking about it. I can't imagine feeling that loss as it relates to a family member, a parent especially. I know the two events aren't related in the least, but I do find it kind of eerie that I had that dream about my dad and then woke up to find out that someone else had just lost theirs.

Tonight on TLC, there are specials on Hoarding and they're breaking my heart. This one lady just seems so sad and ashamed and out of control. I can't imagine that feeling. Hearing her talk about having to move things around because she has a mental block about throwing anything away and hear the shame, it just hurts me. It's making me tear up. What she must feel, it kind of seems like an actual tightness or squeezing coming from inside, a physical reaction around this mental state. Ugh. It hurts.

I've lost about 14 lbs in the last 7 or 8 weeks. After New Years, looking at the pictures of myself, I was like uh oh, not again. I could see that double chin creeping back. Time to do something. I specifically asked my brother for Biggest Loser workout DVDs for Christmas because I know that I don't have money to spend on the gym and the fact is, I wouldn't go even if I did. Working out is something I need to do by myself or with one other person. But I can see improvement, I've gone down a pants size, I need new clothes, and I have goals that I'm working towards. The thing I'm learning more and more is that setting of goals is really important. Even if I don't completely reach my goal, the idea of working toward something is purpose enough to keep going. Slowly but surely, it's working. Since I graduated from college, I've lost 40 lbs... awesome, right? Yes, it is, but the less awesome thing is that I still have 40 more to go. It's not awesome but now, I know I can do it. Dammit, I will do it.

I'm gonna do it.