Explosions are bad...

...unless they are in action movies or something.  And even then people get taken out by shrapnel and such.

Yippee-ki- O GOD, IT'S HITTING THE CHILDREN!!!

So I'm reading this book recommended to me by a friend.  It's called "The Happiness Project" (no, I am totally not kidding).  Anyhow, I came across this section on how to fight well with spouses and friends and family and...really everyone, and it occurred to me that this might be an area of my life where I kind of suck.

I was a really passive kid.  I seriously think that some doormats were better at fighting back than I was.  I was terrified of conflict, terrified of new people, terrified of social situations...  My poor mother nearly lost her mind trying to make me stand up for myself (my mother is absolutely NOT a pushover).  If kids were mean to me I wouldn't say a word.  I would stand there silently, awkwardly smiling, and then burst into tears the second I got home.  If not for some incredibly patient friends, I might have resorted to becoming a school-library hermit just so I never had to deal with that stuff.

Not pictured: a social life.

By the time I got to high-school-ish and college age, I was pretty sick of being taken advantage of and feeling like I could never express it when I was upset.  I ended up swinging back the opposite direction...and maybe swinging a bit too far.  My reflex of letting things go when they upset me would kick in until it built up into a rage and I exploded like a coke bottle full of mentos.  I would unleash my anger and frustration and sarcasm on whoever had pushed me past the tipping point.  Instead of doormat, I became a land mine.  I'm sure that was really pleasant for all of you that got to deal with me in college.

 O, you're going to go off right now?  That's cool, I guess.

Anyhow, I developed this idea that expressing your emotions is healthy, so expressing them instantly and all the time must be super-healthy, right?  That way they are not getting suppressed and building up into a rage, right?  And don't therapists always talk about the dangers of suppressed feelings?

Turns out, that's totally wrong.  Research shows that giving your anger free range without pausing to think about the real causes of the anger just trains you to erupt more often.  Instead of dealing with it in a healthy way, it just makes you a more consistently angry person.  The whole "don't sleep on your anger" thing is actually wrong.  A lot of times, a little time and perspective can make the anger disappear and then you don't have to pick up the pieces from the explosion that you let loose.

Note: emotional devastation is more difficult to clean than this.

Because here's the thing.  While it might make me feel better or vindicated or strong or whatever to unload on anyone who makes me angry, it usually has the opposite effect.  Seconds later, I feel terrible and guilty about ripping into a fellow human being and they feel awful because, well, they just got caught in my out-of-balance cross hairs.

We are so used to watching tv shows and movies where the person we cheer for is the one who instantly comes up with withering one-liners and biting sarcasm to every offense.  In real life, those people don't have a lot of friends.  At least, not a lot of friends who aren't secretly terrified of ever offending them.  And how can that kind of friendship last?

 But Tyrion and I can still be buddies, right?

Maybe my real lesson here is that there is a balance between doormat and land mine.  Somewhere in the middle is a healthy response.  Now, I guess I am just off to find some middle ground.

And practice some one-liners.  Just in case I ever meet Tyrion.

Must be prepared.

I was going to say something about wedding bells...

...but no one really uses them any more.  I never really got that whole thing anyway.

I have been jokingly referring to this summer as "summer of the wedding".  This is largely due to the four weddings we have gone to and the many others that we were invited to but unable to go to.  Matrimony is catching, apparently.

Always be prepared.

However, attending these weddings made me even more sentimental at my own anniversary (ONE YEAR!  I totally qualify as an old married person now).  I guess seeing how these marriages are beginning, so filled with love and friends and family (and, in the best cases, some serious revelry) makes me happy.  Everyone is so excited and full of the incredible hope and optimism that comes with the beginning of anything new and I remember standing in that same place.

I remember a day filled with color and laughing and the people I love most.  I remember standing next to this boy who had been a stranger, a friend, a crush, a boyfriend, and a fiance (not to mention a whole plethora of other titles like "a resident music-expert" and "that kid with the 'fro and piercings who lives in the basement") and being so filled with all my nervous excitement and happiness and a little niggling terror that there was just no way we were grown-up enough for this sort of thing.  And then he held my hand at the altar and the terror left.  That whole day is filled with a million little moments that combine to make the beginning of something beautiful for me.  The sun hitting us through the leaves of the tree, grass and dance-floor beneath bare feet, sunglasses under a veil, toasts and laughter and tears, my dad's face as we got ready to walk down the aisle, the color and light on every table and in every face and surrounding us the whole night, the hugs and cheers and singing and dancing and dancing and dancing...

And dancing...

Of course, being married isn't all parties and dancing.  Sometimes it's cleaning and cooking and laundry - the boring stuff.  Sometimes it's the beautifully simple things, like enjoying a meal, watching a movie, reading our books, taking a walk, all of them somehow better because they are done together.  Sometimes it's arguing and frustrating each other and wondering why you can't seem to communicate the way you want to.  Sometimes, for me, it is standing back and wondering in total shock how I can possibly be so erratic and neurotic and combative.  And sometimes, it's just me being extremely grateful that he can still find ways to love me and make me laugh at the moments that I feel the least loveable.

He sees something adorably prickly when I am really just prickly.

In this year of marriage, I have learned some very important things.

1)  I am not a marriage expert.  If people ever ask me for relationship advice, I hope it's because I am a friend and not because they think marriage has made me some sort of expert.  Many days, all I am learning is that I really don't know what I am doing.  Tyler and I just have to suffer through trial-and-error together.

 I see where we went wrong here...

2)  Friends are important.  I don't care how much you love being with your honey-bun, or snookums, or whatever you call that person you're nuts about.  You are going to need someone else to hang out with sometimes.  Quite frankly, I hate being social.  It takes a ton of energy for me and I like saving all my energy for the relationship.  But that's not healthy.  How can I be a balanced person if all I do is hang out with one person?  Other people bring out different sides of a person's personality.  I love watching Tyler interact with other people because I get to see parts of who he is I don't always get when we are alone.  You need someone to be around when you just need a break from the other person.  On that note...

3)  You need breaks from each other.  One of the things I love about Tyler is that he doesn't treat our relationship like a skin graft.  He is perfectly aware that we are still two individuals and we need time away from each other.  He needs to go off and camp with the boys or play that madden game or do whatever else it is boys do.  I need to be able to watch a chick flick without defending it and read books and laugh about stupid celebrity gossip and top model.  I am aware of how stereotypically gendered those things sound, but the point is that somethings are fun for us to do without the other person.  Tyler wants to play his madden without my players running in circles or hopping in place on one side of the football field because I can't remember how to do anything else with the buttons.  I want to watch cheesy movies and catch up with my friends about things that just flat-out do not interest Tyler.  We enjoy lots of things together, but it's good to have things that are separate.

 Even with this design, Tyler is strangely resistant to having his toenails painted.

4)  Remind them that you are excited to be with them.  Seeing someone every day changes things from when you were dating.  I no longer panic about looking cute all the time because Tyler has seen me with bedhead.  Tyler doesn't feel like he needs to take me to the ballet for every date (yeah, he seriously did that).  But he still does a great job at making me feel like he's nuts about me.  The man cooks for me all the time.  He made me one of my favorite meals for our anniversary.  He sneakily does the laundry while I am at work because once (once!) I whined that I hated having to wait for the machines to be done.  He is a pro.

5)  Be aware that you are going to screw up.  No matter how hard I try, I am never going to be a perfect wife.  Some days, I am grouchy and whiny and lazy.  Sometimes I am completely oblivious to his moods.  Sometimes, I blow up and say mean things that I instantly wish I could take back.  Often I have no idea how to express to him that I love him or how to be more helpful, more productive, more social, more organized, more...more something.  I mess up.  I'm new at this.  He never seems to hold it against me though.  If anything, he somehow manages to see my hopelessly bumbling attempts at good wifery as kind of adorable.

I will be the BEST WIFE EVER!

6)  Be stubborn.  No, not about stupid things, like which Game of Thrones character should end up on top (it's obviously Shaggydog), but about being in your relationship.  I'm the kind of stubborn person where if I lock onto an idea, nothing is going to make me change my mind about it.  Tyler and I are staying together: locked in.  I will defend him to anyone: locked in.  I will always have his back: locked in.  I will start sneaky-doing the laundry while he is busy: ...we'll see.

I will be the ninja of laundry.

I still have a ridiculous amount to learn.  I can't even believe how good Tyler is at being a husband while I am still desperately trying to figure out how to be a wife (also, how to be a grown-up).  But I can say with absolute certainty that from the wedding to today, I have never had any second thoughts about the decision to marry my best friend.  It's been crazy and silly and wonderful and fun and chaotic and I wouldn't change a single minute of it.

I love you, Tyler.

**note to readers:  I apologize profusely for the sappiness.**

Today, I am not funny...

...just so I don't mislead you folks.

This is me today.  But I look more ridiculous and less badass.

Unfortunately for me, I have a sick tendency to focus on things that I am fully aware will just make me sad.  The past few days, my topic of choice has been "what the hell am I supposed to be doing with myself?"  It's a fairly depressing topic that has led to pessimistic reflection not only about myself, but about my entire generation.

I'm going to re-warn you: this may be both whiny and depressing.  Sorry.

I don't know what I am doing.  At all.  Now, I thought I had reached the point in my life where I would be comfortable with not really knowing what was going to happen or having a plan, but I am not.  I want there to be a plan.  I want to go back to when I was in school and I knew that after this year came another year of classes and learning things.  But school was all supposed to be preparation for the "real world", right?  Then WHY DO I SUCK AT BEING IN THE REAL WORLD!?!

  I am worse at being in the real world than this guy is at spelling.

I was good at school.  Life should not be this overwhelming or difficult for me.  And you know what?  Some days it's not.  Some days I am fine with where I am right now.  But then someone asks me what I am doing next year or what my future plans are or if I'm going back to school or what I want for my career and I completely panic.

I've got nothing.  I have no idea what I am doing.  I got married after college and, yes, that affected what I am currently doing.  If I am honest, though, I don't know what I would be doing with myself even if I hadn't gotten married.  I am checking insurance and making appointments in an office.  It's a great job.  I have great hours, work with good people, get good pay.  I am lucky to have a job in this economy, to be honest.  But I definitely do not want to keep doing this any longer than I have to.  And I think that might make me a horrifying combination of spoiled, disillusioned, apathetic, and naive.

Though, admittedly, that's still not as terrible a combination as the double-down.

Look, I am not trying to make this a session where I whine that it is all the world's fault for doing this to me.  I guess I am saying it's kind of my fault for buying into the idea that everyone will get into some career that they are passionate about and excited about working on every day.  If that was true, we wouldn't have receptionists.  Or janitors.  Or really any job that involves a cubicle.  And while those jobs are not fun to brag about, we do need them.

So why did I always assume that I would be an exception to that?  Because I have a ridiculous sense of entitlement ingrained in me that makes me believe the rules apply to everyone else.  I see this in others all the time and I always mock it.  My rudderless panic at having a perfectly respectable job seems to point out that I am the same way.  Damn.

I also like being able to say I am doing something that sounds meaningful or brave or just cool.  I want to say I am doing some job that helps change the world or that I am heading off to other countries or that I am doing anything besides what I am actually doing:  watching movies and tv, reading books, playing board games, making meals, hanging with friends, and only doing these things between the forty hours a week where I am at work.

Basically, I have grown up.  But not into a cool, rebellious adult.  Into an adult exactly like every other adult.

  Even we don't know why we still believe we are cool.

I think the most frustrating part is not even that the job I have now is not a kick-ass job that I want to do the rest of my life.  It's that I have no idea what I want to be doing.  I don't even have a goal.  Whenever people ask me what I'm doing I just say I might be going back to school, but what's the point of that if I don't know what I would go to school for or what I want to do once it's done?  I can't go to school forever.  It's just putting off the inevitable job-hunt while sinking lower into debt.  Not a solid life-plan. I don't want to become some sort of sad Peter-Pan figure stuck in adolescent limbo forever where I refuse to admit that life can't keep going the same way it was when I was a kid.  Responsibilities happen.  Life happens.  If I put off making a decision forever, eventually that becomes a decision to stay in a life I just don't care that much about.

Sweet Lord, that's depressing.

One perverse comfort I have in all of this is that I know other people are going through the same thing.  Tons of my friends are clueless and rudderless and freaked out as well.  These are not lazy friends, but intelligent, driven, terrific people with wicked senses of humor and completely functional social skills.  And none of us know what we are doing.

Generation X, you didn't go away.  We became you, just more neurotic.

In an effort to end this with something resembling happiness, I am composing a playlist for the lost.  Listen to it while you wallow in madness and maybe we will all eventually escape mediocrity together.

This music goes out to my generation.  We are stuck and tired and confused and clueless about everything we thought we should definitely know by now. We are freaked out and strung out and pulled out of the timelines and schedules and boxes we made for ourselves when we thought we could do anything.  We are angry without knowing what to be angry about, scared without knowing what it is we fear, feeling pointless and not knowing if there was ever a point to begin with.

Don't worry, guys.  The music will save us for a while.  And then, we will grow up and learn how to save ourselves.

Passion Pit - Sleepyhead

The National - Mistaken for Strangers

Snow Patrol - Open Your Eyes

Mumford & Sons - Lover of the Light

Florence + the Machines - Rabbit Heart

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Into My Arms

Bob Dylan - A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

Glen Hansard - Leave

Damien Rice - Cannonball

Regina Spektor - Human of the Year

David Ford - There is a Light that Never Goes Out

Gavin DeGraw - Meaning

Ingrid Michaelson and Sarah Bareilles - Winter Song

Eddie Vedder and Ben Harper - Indifference

Ben Folds - Still Fighting It

Adele - Hometown Glory

Bon Iver - Blood Bank

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - O Children

The Head and The Heart - Rivers and Roads

Thanks for sticking with me even when I am depressing.  I promise to be funny again next time.

I have a new obsession...

...and I am totally going to tell you all about it.

Ok, so, I have just completed the first season of "Game of Thrones".  For those of you unaware of the awesomeness contained in this, I will give a wildly incomplete summary:  it is a book following several noble families or folks and their fighting to rule this fantasy land.  They use trickery, and intrigue, and lots of sex, and a heaping helping of dead bodies to accomplish this goal.

 How odd that there would be bloodshed for a throne LITERALLY MADE OF SWORDS.

And it's awesome.

Now, presumably, this series will continue for a while because there are several books and George R. R. Martin keeps cranking out more.  Because I have a tendency to devote myself entirely to an obsession, I have to read the books.  Can't help it.  It's a compulsion.  Really.

Now that college is over and I no longer live in a convenient bubble where all my friends are just down a hall, I have no one to read along with me and listen to me freak out at the appropriate times and such.  This must be remedied.  So, in an attempt to share all of my geeking-outs, I am going to begin a go-along-with-my-reading blog.  In no way whatsoever do I mean this to be some sort of cheap copy of the deeply awesome and incredibly entertaining "Mark Reads" blog (which, if you have not read already, you really need to).  I mean, the man shares both my hatred of twilight and my love of Harry Potter.  He is brilliant.  But, because I am internet challenged, I could not find a way to contact him and make sure he knows I am not trying to rip him off and I give him full credit for using this read-along-blog idea before me (Mark, if for some random reason you read this, I really did try to contact you.  Please don't ban me from your site).

Anyway, I am making it a separate blog so that those who are mildly interested in Game of Thrones can follow along and those that would find it extremely difficult to care less about a random fantasy series and my reaction to it can avoid it entirely.

You guys are amazing.  I don't know why you put up with me.

But, anyway, the reading blog is called Book Freaks and the link is http://book-freaks.blogspot.com

Enjoy.

Such a bad idea...

...to leave me alone with myself.

Today is strange and I am low on sleep.  I am going to go ahead and see if a log of the confusing, ridiculous way that my mind works is even moderately amusing.  Or, you know, makes any sense at all.

Tyler is gone for the week, so I am left to my own devices.  It was never strange to be alone before I got married, but now I'm just so...so used to someone else being around.  It is a good thing.  It makes me censor my actions and such because I know someone else will see how I use my time.  I have no idea why I've decided to allow other humans to know how I spend my time when I'm alone, but there you go.

Ok, no more trying to explain myself.  I will let the day speak for itself.

3.30 am:  Tyler's devil-alarm goes off.  He rolls out of bed and starts actually doing getting-ready-to-go things.

3.33 am:  My satan-phone-alarm goes off, trying desperately to remind me that I also need to get out of bed.

3.42 am:  Tyler comes to gently remind me that getting out of bed requires motion.

3.43 am:  I roll out of bed (no, literally, a roll.  I tend to actually hit the floor when I do this).  Remember that people will not actually see me because I will be sitting in a car all morning and pull on the green boy-sweats.  Yank on hoodie.  Hood has forced all of my hair directly over my face.  I decide this does not matter because I can't see anyway.  Attempt to remedy my blindness by putting glasses on.  Forget to move hair out of the way of glasses.  Decide it does not matter.

(rough approximation)

3.44 am:  I grab small purse with phone, keys, and driver's license, and head towards the door.  Remember that shoes are important as I am halfway out the door and slip some on.  Tyler convinces me to grab a pillow from the couch  for the drive up to Spokane's Airport.  We are in the car.

3.45-51 am:  Sleep is not coming back to me.  It is dark, I am not driving, classical music is playing, and I am clutching the pillow to me like a short, squishy cuddle-buddy (dear lord, must find a different phrase.  Cuddle-buddy makes me want to die inside), but sleep remains elusive.

This is what came up in googleimages for "cuddle buddy".

Now I want to die inside even more.



3.52-5.12 am:  I spend the drive up singing loudly to the radio, observing the deer lurking around the side of the road, and making conversation (or completely unconnected statements) with Tyler.  I have no idea if any of my words made sense.

5.13 am:  We are right next to the Spokane Airport searching for a McDonald's.  I see no golden arches, so Tyler pulls into a Jack-In-The-Box to see if we can find some foods to put in our stomach.  I have a strong feeling that Tyler needs something to counteract the energy drink in his empty stomach.

5.14 am:  Don't get the meat breakfast burrito at Jack-In-The-Box.  Seriously.  Unless you're into imitation egg wrapped with a piece of ham and raw bacon.

5.16 am:  I drop off Tyler at the airport.  There is much hugging and such.  I get into the driver's seat and begin chugging one of those delicious lemonade-flavored rock stars that stay in my system like crack all day.  I can feel the caffeine trembling begin as I pull back onto the highway.

Behold my awesome power and tremble.

No, seriously, you won't be able to stop shaking.



5.19-6.42 am:  The progression of my thoughts on the drive home astounds even me.  The radio gets a serious workout.  Between frantically changing the stations and yelling at Rhianna to stop polluting the radio with things that make me uncomfortable, I start reviewing the plots and characters of various books and tv shows in my head and then rewriting them.  I am incredibly excited about my brilliance until I realize that I am basically creating fanfic.  I refuse to ever write this down and to never admit that this happened.  I am unaware that I will shortly be sharing all this information online.

6.43 am:  I climb the stairs to my apartment, slam the door behind me, and decide I should definitely try to sleep a little before work.  My library book that is sitting on the futon jumps into the edge of my vision as I make my way to the bedroom.  I decide to read "just a little" before I sleep, knowing that this will not end well.

6.44-7.32 am:  I read "just a little" and complete Northanger Abbey. 

7.33-7.48 am:  I start doing an exercise program I have taken from a fitness magazine.  Decide quickly that I hate fitness and never want to do another pushup for the rest of my life.  I am sleepy.  Remind myself that showers are important and decide being clean is probably a better plan than sleeping for all of fifteen minutes.

Yes, this thing is stronger than me.

7.49-8.04 am:  I get clean.

8.05-8.33 am:  Various drying and blow-drying and dressing and makeupping and such happens.

8.35 am:  I realize that I should bring lunch to work.  Search the fridge for something easily grab-able.  Find salad-spinner of cut lettuce and tomatoes and carrots.  Shove into tupperware and grab salad dressing.  Carefully balance library stuff, purse, and lunch things while trying to lock the apartment door.

8.59 am:  I arrive at work, depositing lunch things into the fridge and greeting various co-workers as I journey to my desk and clock in.

9.00-11.56 am:  Check insurances, confirm appointments, answer phones, and go through my recall list like a good worker.  I occasionally mix in some reading of various internet things as I work.

11.57 am:  I decide it is close enough to noon and that I will start openly weeping at my desk if I do not get some food in me right away.

11.58 am:  Consume salad-lunch in about thirty seconds.  I grab the bag of fruit snacks that I threw into my purse this morning and decide that sucking on the fruit snacks will trick my stomach into thinking it is consuming more food than it actually is.

Not to be used as actual food.

12.00 pm:  I find that my strategy was less than successful.  I heat up a mug of hot water and drink this at my desk.  I am unsure why I think this will help, but at least it makes my insides warm.

12.03-4.02 pm:  Pull files, scan documents, schedule appointments, and try to provide witty banter in office.  Realize that my leg has been jiggling up and down for an hour.  I suspect latent energy drink, but am powerless to do anything.  Decide to ignore it.  Drop the phone several times before I decide to blame my lack of coordination on the energy drink too.  Attempt to get through my massive pile of documents-to-scan, simultaneously enjoying rifftrax on youtube through my headphones.  Their banter causes me to snort several times in an attempt to hold in laughter and I believe it alarms my coworkers.  Continue efforts to stifle laughter.  I think I am going to choke on my own chuckles.

4.03 pm:  Leave work (successfully remembering my lunch container and salad dressing), get into vehicle, and drive to library.

4.09-4.48 pm:  Spend time wandering library, browsing their dvd selection, and getting new books, some of which I am far too embarrassed to actually post on goodreads.com.  Thank God for self-checkout.  I don't want the librarians to judge me.

Like this, but instead of Gaga it's me.  And instead of clothes, it's books.

Actually, maybe they judge my clothes too.



4.53 pm:  I am so consumed with hunger that I am actually getting light-headed.  Stop by Little Caesar's on the way home and buy a cheese pizza.

5.05 pm:  I carefully balance my library finds and my lunch supplies in piles on top of the pizza box and am able to lock my car and unlock my apartment without dropping anything.  I feel mighty.

5.06 pm:  Deposit items on table and floor.  Run to bedroom after realization that I can put my sweats on immediately because Tyler is not here, so I have no one to look attractive for.  I put a disc of "Friends" from the library into the dvd player (I am excited because I have not watched this since...pretty much my freshman year of college) and open the pizza box.

5.13 pm:  I realize that I have consumed four pieces of pizza in the first seven minutes of the episode.  I feel intense shame, but cannot yet bring myself to be sorry.  I decide to be a good person and wrap the rest of the pizza in tinfoil for lunch tomorrow.

7.31 pm:  Finish the first disc of "Friends" episodes.  And the remaining raspberry sorbet in our freezer.

7.32 pm:  Sit on the couch immersing myself in various pages of "Mark Reads".  Skim through his Harry Potter reviews, Twilight reviews, and Golden Compass reviews since I have already completed his Hunger Games reviews.  I remember that I could be reading an actual book.  This thought is promptly banished from my mind.  Continue reading reviews while I watch more "Friends".  O Chandler.  You comic relief, you.

Yes, comfort me with your humorous banter.

And your nineties fashion choices.



9.43 pm:  Debate whether to get ready for bed and catch up on sleep or watch something else.  Put in the Swedish "Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" dvd out of curiosity and excitement.

9.57 pm: Quickly realize that this was a terrible decision.  Turn off dvd and resolve to watch this only when there is full light outside.  I wander around the apartment double-checking the locks on all two doors and all the windows.  Cautiously get ready for bed, sending paranoid looks over my shoulder every few seconds.  Decide to calm myself down by bringing a thoroughly non-scary book to bed and reading for just a little bit.  Grab Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

10.53 pm:  I remember that I never, ever read anything for just a little bit.  Set my alarm and turn off the light.

10.59 pm:  Realize I am still doing the weird fanfic thing in my head.  Die inside a little.

To clarify, I started writing this between readings of  "Mark Reads" and finished it the next morning at work.

I don't know why I am clarifying, because no one asked.

Ta-da!  I do nothing productive when Tyler is away.  But I did promise I would clean the apartment while he was gone, so that is something productive that has to happen.

Alright, back to work for me.

Sleep is such a good thing.