I have my own work email address.
Woot.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
I got scrunchii-ed
...But first I should explain what it menas to be scrunchii-ed.
The one and only time that my husband and I sat down and watched an episode of 'Sex in the City' together was one in which Carrie was dating a writer named Bergman. He had just completed his new novel and sent a copy to Carrie for her to read. When they got together the first thing she said was that the main character in his book would nevre wear a scrunchii, because she was from New York. Then she went on about how she loved the book, but because the first thing she had said was negative, Berger was upset. Since watching the episode, whenever Ben and I are excited to share something to tell something to the other one, we make sure to try to leave the negative critique until later. Or if we don't and we just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, or our first argument with whatever said good news is, then we effectively have 'scrunchii-ed' each other.
Last night I worked really hard on this flyer of Christmas specials for work. The owner had given us the layout and the things she wanted on the flyer and someone had said 'Give it to Emily, she's creative, she'll make it look neat.' Well, I found a neat font online that was Christmas-y but readable, spaced out the flyer so it was easy to read, put the important parts in bold, and I was even cute with my wording. I mean, come one, I am an English major so I have to have some skills in writing, right?
So thenm after I had printed one out and left it on my supervisor's desk I come in today and there are flyers up, but they certainly aren't mine, and they certainly aren't as cute or as well-worded. And when I asked about it saying 'Oh...those are nice' I got full-on, hard-core scrunchii-ed:
'Well, your wasn't readable and it was too wordy and this just makes it simple I think, and no one is going to sit down and read that,and oh,.....yours was cute and would work well for a mailer....but these just were easier for the last minute shopper to understand.'
To which I cry 'Bull!'
And my feelings were hurt.
Silly, I know.
But man, mine was way better.
And I didn't scrunchii anyone in the process.
The one and only time that my husband and I sat down and watched an episode of 'Sex in the City' together was one in which Carrie was dating a writer named Bergman. He had just completed his new novel and sent a copy to Carrie for her to read. When they got together the first thing she said was that the main character in his book would nevre wear a scrunchii, because she was from New York. Then she went on about how she loved the book, but because the first thing she had said was negative, Berger was upset. Since watching the episode, whenever Ben and I are excited to share something to tell something to the other one, we make sure to try to leave the negative critique until later. Or if we don't and we just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, or our first argument with whatever said good news is, then we effectively have 'scrunchii-ed' each other.
Last night I worked really hard on this flyer of Christmas specials for work. The owner had given us the layout and the things she wanted on the flyer and someone had said 'Give it to Emily, she's creative, she'll make it look neat.' Well, I found a neat font online that was Christmas-y but readable, spaced out the flyer so it was easy to read, put the important parts in bold, and I was even cute with my wording. I mean, come one, I am an English major so I have to have some skills in writing, right?
So thenm after I had printed one out and left it on my supervisor's desk I come in today and there are flyers up, but they certainly aren't mine, and they certainly aren't as cute or as well-worded. And when I asked about it saying 'Oh...those are nice' I got full-on, hard-core scrunchii-ed:
'Well, your wasn't readable and it was too wordy and this just makes it simple I think, and no one is going to sit down and read that,and oh,.....yours was cute and would work well for a mailer....but these just were easier for the last minute shopper to understand.'
To which I cry 'Bull!'
And my feelings were hurt.
Silly, I know.
But man, mine was way better.
And I didn't scrunchii anyone in the process.
Monday, November 12, 2007
I can't even write about the Regina Spektor concert right now.
...But I will, oh how will write about the gloriousness that was tonight. But first this just in: Kansas City Chiefs' fans prove themselves asses by booing own team at game!
Seriously, KC, let's not be those fans. Okay? The kind of fans that get pissy when we don't get our way, when our monday quarterbacking isn't being listened to, when our coach isn't personally consulting us on every move he makes.
Today when Damon Huard came back on the field after a particularly hard to watch three and out, we booed. That's right, we friggin' booed our own team in our own stadium. The whole offense, even when the beef was with the quarterback decision.
Booing accomplishes nothing except making us look like little kids that throw temper tantrums. We're not going to change Herm's mind. Heck, even Herm can't get Herm to change his own mind at this point. So suck it up, and support the team at the game and then do your complaining at home.
You know the other tem was eating up. I mean really, it's Denver. They thrive on the controversy, they loved the fact that the loyal KC fans turned against the team. They were estatic that we, as fans, took ourselves out of the game.
Way to go kids. Like Regina would say (I'll get to her later) 'so classy!'.
Seriously, KC, let's not be those fans. Okay? The kind of fans that get pissy when we don't get our way, when our monday quarterbacking isn't being listened to, when our coach isn't personally consulting us on every move he makes.
Today when Damon Huard came back on the field after a particularly hard to watch three and out, we booed. That's right, we friggin' booed our own team in our own stadium. The whole offense, even when the beef was with the quarterback decision.
Booing accomplishes nothing except making us look like little kids that throw temper tantrums. We're not going to change Herm's mind. Heck, even Herm can't get Herm to change his own mind at this point. So suck it up, and support the team at the game and then do your complaining at home.
You know the other tem was eating up. I mean really, it's Denver. They thrive on the controversy, they loved the fact that the loyal KC fans turned against the team. They were estatic that we, as fans, took ourselves out of the game.
Way to go kids. Like Regina would say (I'll get to her later) 'so classy!'.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Simon and Garfunkel might be proud
I have gotten comfortable with silence. Not all the time, and certainly not completely one hundred percent comfortable, but it's a lot easier than it used to be. In fact, as I sit her typing right now, there is no itunes playlist, no TV droning in the other room, and even my cats are asleep in the sun. And I'm okay with it all.
Two days ago I came home from work and played with my cats for a while, then read and ate dinner, and eventually realized that not only had I done all of that in relative silence (except for Ollie, who makes a lot of noise) but that I hadn't made a conscious decision to be that way. I just simply was. I was being. I was living, I was hanging out with myself, and I was okay while I was doing it.
It's a pretty big change for me, someone who struggles with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and OCD, to change up my routines. I used to be so afraid all the time, that when I came home, somenone would be in my house. Or that all the little noises I heard were bad, scary, and meant no good. No matter how many times my mother used to tell me that 'the house was just settling' I never believed that houses made noises all on their own. I was convinced that noises menat scary people out to get me. Pretty silly, right? And yet, I have to embrace fully just how much in fear I would live for this week to be so monumental.
In my parents house, in my dorm room, and in my first house I lived in with friends in college if I came home by myself, I would have to check every single nook and cranny before I could settle in for the time being. I checked closets, I checked basements, under beds, pulled back shower curatins. Only once I was sure that I was alone, would I feel good about staying and continuing on with my day. This included turning on the TV immediately, and maybe a CD or two to have noise going. I didn't feel alone when I had noise, and I wasn't quite as scared. Plus, after I checked things, if I heard a noise I knew it was the TV, or the music and I could brush it off. Therefore: Silence= bad, because it meant I could be scared.
The house that we live in now I can thankfully say that I have always felt safe, ever since we moved in in July. I was so afraid that I would have to struggle to feel at home, and the stragest peace has just settled in my heart in this house. The Lord is truly, truly good and amazing. I haven't once stayed awake at night listening for weird noises, or shifts in the wind. I haven't been afraid to walk by the basement door when I am alone in the house. I have slept without Ben a couple times (but not without Becca,our housemate, one step at a time, people!)
All of this, and I don't have to check the nooks and crannies of the house when I come home. Granted, I'm sure that Prozac has helped a lot as far as shifting my mind off their compulsive tracks, but there are times when I come home where it doesn't even cross my mind to check the bathroom closet in the first place.
And Silence. Silence has become okay. People have always extolled the virtues of silence and meditation for people with anxiety, or high stress. But I could never get anybody to understand that noise, yes, was probably overstimulating, but also somehow was connceted to being safe in my head. And realyy, that's what OCD is really all about anyway. Picking up little repetitive behavious that make you feel safe from your scariest thoughts. But it seems I can do it now. At least a little bit. And it's not scary, it's actually quite lovely.
I am just being. I am living in the present truly. I can sit and listen for the important things. Life , for now, is in an upward swing. And without being silent, I might never have noticed it at all.
Praise the Lord, oh my soul, Praise the Lord.
Two days ago I came home from work and played with my cats for a while, then read and ate dinner, and eventually realized that not only had I done all of that in relative silence (except for Ollie, who makes a lot of noise) but that I hadn't made a conscious decision to be that way. I just simply was. I was being. I was living, I was hanging out with myself, and I was okay while I was doing it.
It's a pretty big change for me, someone who struggles with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and OCD, to change up my routines. I used to be so afraid all the time, that when I came home, somenone would be in my house. Or that all the little noises I heard were bad, scary, and meant no good. No matter how many times my mother used to tell me that 'the house was just settling' I never believed that houses made noises all on their own. I was convinced that noises menat scary people out to get me. Pretty silly, right? And yet, I have to embrace fully just how much in fear I would live for this week to be so monumental.
In my parents house, in my dorm room, and in my first house I lived in with friends in college if I came home by myself, I would have to check every single nook and cranny before I could settle in for the time being. I checked closets, I checked basements, under beds, pulled back shower curatins. Only once I was sure that I was alone, would I feel good about staying and continuing on with my day. This included turning on the TV immediately, and maybe a CD or two to have noise going. I didn't feel alone when I had noise, and I wasn't quite as scared. Plus, after I checked things, if I heard a noise I knew it was the TV, or the music and I could brush it off. Therefore: Silence= bad, because it meant I could be scared.
The house that we live in now I can thankfully say that I have always felt safe, ever since we moved in in July. I was so afraid that I would have to struggle to feel at home, and the stragest peace has just settled in my heart in this house. The Lord is truly, truly good and amazing. I haven't once stayed awake at night listening for weird noises, or shifts in the wind. I haven't been afraid to walk by the basement door when I am alone in the house. I have slept without Ben a couple times (but not without Becca,our housemate, one step at a time, people!)
All of this, and I don't have to check the nooks and crannies of the house when I come home. Granted, I'm sure that Prozac has helped a lot as far as shifting my mind off their compulsive tracks, but there are times when I come home where it doesn't even cross my mind to check the bathroom closet in the first place.
And Silence. Silence has become okay. People have always extolled the virtues of silence and meditation for people with anxiety, or high stress. But I could never get anybody to understand that noise, yes, was probably overstimulating, but also somehow was connceted to being safe in my head. And realyy, that's what OCD is really all about anyway. Picking up little repetitive behavious that make you feel safe from your scariest thoughts. But it seems I can do it now. At least a little bit. And it's not scary, it's actually quite lovely.
I am just being. I am living in the present truly. I can sit and listen for the important things. Life , for now, is in an upward swing. And without being silent, I might never have noticed it at all.
Praise the Lord, oh my soul, Praise the Lord.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
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