It's Been 10 Months Since My Last Depression...

Please accept my sincere apologies for not posting this weekend. With the exception of Sunday, my weekend was rough. It's not really because I was DD at a party on Friday, or even because our canoe became infested with ants on Saturday (ew ew ew Ew EW!). Mainly it was rough because I was experiencing many of the symptoms I have experienced in the past: Those of clinical depression.

Now, I have been debating as to whether or not I should bring up this part of my life in this blog, but it is a huge part of who I am, and I cannot simply ignore it. Part of the reason I hesitate is that Heather Armstrong, the writer of Dooce.com and one of my writing heroes, became known for writing about her own postpartum depression. I'm certainly not trying to be a "copy cat (plus, I'd much rather be a copy-dog or a copy-bunny!)." However, this is something I dealt with for years (and something I think about every. single. day. of. my. life. Literally, every day). Also, I didn't want to bring anyone down by writing about something that isn't fun or funny. But this is important to me, and this weekend was scary because I felt like I was going through something really hard again.

I was diagnosed with clinical depression at the beginning of my senior year of college. I had been suffering for probably two years prior to that. It came on gradually; I did not wake up one day and just feel bad. I was too stubborn and afraid to get help. I just thought the misery I felt had to do with a flaw in myself that I had to try to fix all alone. I didn't want to admit defeat by asking for help. I felt helpless, useless, sad, worthless, guilty, lonely, miserable, and completely hopeless. I was the girl at the party crying in the corner. I was the girl who took every little thing "the wrong way." My sense of humor became incredibly narrow, and I was incapable at laughing at myself.

The thing that finally got me to a counselor was Chris telling me "I want you to go see someone." I was shocked and initially hurt at the time, but I was single-handedly making his life miserable along with my own. So, I went to counseling and was, by senior year diagnosed with depression and put on meds.

The title of this post refers to the fact that I've officially been off of meds (after more than two years on them) for about 10 months. A lot of hard work went into getting myself into a better place, and the meds helped me calm down enough to alter my behavior and get used to new, healthier habits.

Though I feel so much better, I still panic any time I feel bad. I realize it is normal to have good moods and bad moods, but every time I'm down I can't help but think that maybe I'm spiraling into the depths of depression once more. And I freak out.

Chris and I watched a documentary the other day called Depression: Out of the Shadows, which explored the facts and research surrounding clinical depression. All kinds of different people from all different walks of life are stricken with the same thing I was stricken with, though at varying degrees. I think about those other people in a general way all the time. How they are having the same kind of hard time I had. How they are the one at the party feeling alone, freakish, and panic-stricken. How they too feel the guilt I felt. The guilt at not being completely happy when I already had it so much better than so many people on this planet. The guilt from feeling like I disappointed everyone who ever cared about me.

Well, though this post wasn't particularly clever or funny, it was at least a little cathartic. I need to get past this "speedbump" I've been dealing with (Thanks, Chris. He called it a "speedbump" to help me visualize the idea that this is a short setback and not a scary, end-all descent), and I plan to kick it in the butt.

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: Josh Ritter's album Hello Starling. It is so good. Particularly of note are the songs "Kathleen" and "Snow is Gone."

Reading: Chesapeake by James Michener

Watching: Bones, Season 1. Chris and I love this! We have an unspoken rule that we have to watch it together.

Working Out: 30-Day Shred. Exercising is the best natural antidepressant. Part of why I think I have been having a hard time lately is that I haven't been exercising as regularly. Moving, new living situations, and a busy life have made it harder lately. But I plan on fixing that to keep myself mentally and physically healthy.

My Dream Job

Seeking: Beach Bum

This is an exciting and challenging full-time employment opportunity for a an unqualified candidate with no experience.

Candidate must be hard work-averse and have a strong background in procrastination and slackerdom.

Education Requirements:
-Candidate must have either been the class daydreamer or class clown.
-College education discouraged, but a useless degree will be considered (English, History, Music, Philosophy...) if candidate is otherwise qualified.

Responsibilities will include:
-Rarely setting foot indoors
-Attaining brown, leathery skin and callused feet
-Aimless wandering
-Making temporary friends with the vacationers
-Naming the seagulls and sharing lunch with them
-Listening to an unhealthy amount of Bob Marley and Jimmy Buffett
-Forgetting how to use a computer
-Napping in the afternoon
-Collecting seashells and left-behind beach items
-Drinking booze out of a brown paper bag
-Singing to oneself

Professional dress is forbidden and is grounds for termination.

Compensation: based on lack of experience
Location: Onthewater, VA

Please send messy, hand-written cover letter and blank resume to:

Bob Dunnadoanythin
That Beat Up Boat by That Dock
Onthewater, VA 00000

I would be so good at this.

HAPPY FRIDAY EVERYONE!

Showing up for my first day of work.

Why I Wish People Were More Like Bunnies

Some of you may know that I am a proud Bunny-Mommy. I adopted sweet, cute, little Coltrane from the SPCA a couple years ago, and he is awesome. Just look:

My little (slightly chubby) bun!

So, here are a few reasons why I wish people were more like bunnies:

1. Bunnies dance when they're happy. It's called a "binky" when a bunny jumps and spins in the air out of pure joy. Wouldn't it be great if people did this? I can't help but smile and laugh when Coltrane binkies, so imagine how full of joy people would be to see their friends and loved ones literally "jumping for joy?"

2. Bunnies build trust over time (with people, with other bunnies) and "bond" with others. A rabbit makes it very clear when they don't trust you, and a lot of work and time goes into building a mutual trust and respect. Once that bond is established, the relationship is meaningful and special. I wish people were up-front about who they do and do not trust. It'd make things so much simpler.

3. It doesn't take much to make a bunny happy. Enough food, a treat here and there, and the space to run around. Coltrane is sometimes more excited about getting to run around the house than he is to get fed.

4. Once you learn bunny body-language, it is pretty easy to figure out what's going on with them. People hide what they're thinking and feeling and manipulate their own body-language to communicate what others want to see. Once you learn what means what, a bunny is easy to read. When Coltrane's ears are smushed together and pushed back, that means he's irritated, mad, etc and stop doing what you're doing. Simple. No mind games.

5. Rabbits' poop doesn't smell. Think of how pleasant rest stop bathrooms would be if people's poop didn't smell!

6. There's a reason they say "going at it like rabbits."

7. There is no such thing as an ugly bunny.

You have my permission to make fun of me. I get hell all the time from people about being a "bunny person." Here is a great reason to pick on me... *binky*

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: I got an email from my mom this morning telling me she just watched The Last Waltz again and loved it. I have been listening to The Band most of the day as a result. I don't think it will ever get old. Considering my mom and my dad especially still love it after having it in their lives since the movie came out on the big screen in 1978 (movie was filmed in 1976), I'd say it will probably stay relevant to me for years to come.

Reading: Chesapeake. What? It's like 900 pages! And I'm busy and stuff.

Watching: Bones. My sister has been trying to get me to watch this show for forever. Now that Chris and I have Netflix Instant right on our TV, we've started becomming obsessed. We're on the first season.

Working Out: Some things have gotten in the way this week, but 30 Day Shred tomorrow.

White Trash Anniversary

Chris and I have been together for 5 years today. Our day can only be described as a "white trash" anniversary celebration (I do have West BY GOD! Virginia blood in me). It started with us getting up at the last possible second before having to leave the house. We both pulled on shorts and t-shirts without having showered and got in the car.

Our new place came with washer/dryer hookups sans washer/dryer (We were secretly hoping the previous tenants would leave theirs, but, alas, no such luck). So, after scouring craigslist, we found an ad for a washer/dyer set for FIFTY DOLLARS. That's Five-Oh dollars for both a washer and a dryer. Pretty hard to pass up, eh? We set out for Waynesboro (about a 40-minute drive) this morning. This lady lives out in the booooo-hooooo-nies. We got lost on the way there. But, eventually, we pulled into a gas station to ask for directions. One of those really nice country folk was working the cash register and he gave us great directions to get where we needed to go. You know the type: Flannel-wearing, extremely kind and polite, counts your change back to you when you buy something ("that's five, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and sixty-five cents makes fifteen"), thanks you profusely and wishes you well.

Anyways, we got to the house. Now, for fifty dollars we both expected these appliances to be total pieces of shit.  Much to our surprise, they seemed to be in extremely good condition. Like, much nicer than many of the washer/dryers we saw for hundreds of dollars. Woo! We had a bit of a time getting the washer and dryer into the car, but did (call me Superwoman, please).

Now comes the really redneck part of our anniversary day. We headed to the Shoneys for lunch. For breakfast for lunch. Ha, don't you love how, when you get out into the country, everything has a "the" in front of it? "I'm going to THE Shoneys." "I'm going to THE Walmart." As if there are no other Shoneys or Walmarts anywhere, ever. So Chris ate his chicken-fried steak (EW) and I ate my eggs, grits, and bacon. Classy couple, we are. And Shoneys is as white-trash as you get! Chris pointed out that I was the skinniest person in the restaurant. We ate, I drank the bad coffee, and we headed out (Happy annie-versary babey!).

And then the day got even more white-trashy; cuz we stopped by THE Walmart. We got a bookshelf and a few other odds and ends.

We got home with our new loot, and Chris started trying to hook up our new (old!) washer/dryer set. The hoses kept leaking, so we went to Lowes to get new ones. THEN, the hot water hose kept leaking. Um, sucky. We decided to just keep the cold water hooked up, and then, we went to plug in the dryer. ANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNND more shit: Our dryer is newer than our house, and, apparently, they (I have no clue who "they" are) changed dryer cords in 1996 (I was nine). So, the shit didn't fit. The male parts didn't go into the female parts (bow, chicka bow wow, oh.). SO, we had to go back. to. Lowes. Chris (call him Superman) rewired our dryer and got it working. Hallelujah!!!!!!!!! Two loads of laundry done bitches! Sorry, you're not bitches. Just got excited.

After the debacle, we went to the grocery store and then the liquor store. We spent over $75 to start our "liquor collection (yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww!)"

Now, that's a white trash anniverary (love you babey).

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magentic Zeros. A Charlottesville radio station called WNRN plays this song all the time. It's awesome. And crazy weird. Oh yeah, and awesome.

Reading: Chesapeake. Really like this book, ya'll.

Watching: Sex and the City, Season 4. I am drinking a homemade Cosmopolitan (yeah, liquor cabinet) while watching Sex and the City. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm yes.

Working Out: I had a doctor's appointment last week. It's official: I've lost 30-lbs in about 9 months. In fact, I've sort of accidentally done down a size past where I meant to. So, it's eating yummy stuff and working out. Great combo really. Doing 30-Day Shred a few times a week.

Sleeping with the Enemy

I think I may have mentioned (more than once!) that I love to read Heather Armstrong's blog at Dooce.com. Her site has been a big part of what inspired me to start writing a personal blog. I've been slowly making my way through her archives when I have time. I'm up to December of 2006 and I ran across this post. Heather writes a newsletter to her daughter every month, and this one mentions her daughter's obsession with purses. She then goes on to detail how her daughter brings everything she likes into the crib with her. She says "This month your fascination with purses has turned into a full-blown obsession, and sometimes when we leave the house you have to bring three or four of them with you, one around your neck, two hung over your right shoulder, one clutched in your hand. You also like to sleep with them."

Now, I nearly spit out my pinor noir laughing when I read this, not because of Heather's daughter, but beacuse of me and my Mama Faye.

My Mama Faye was my mom's mom. She died when I was five, but I have all these incredibly vivid memories of her. Now, first let me pause to address something important. Mama is pronounced "Maw-maw" where my family comes from (West BY-GOD! Virginia). I can't stand to think of any of you reading this and thinking "Mah-mah" or any of that crap to yourselves. Not ok. Not right. Don't do it. Stop it.

There are several ridiculous stories that have been retold hundreds of times regarding my Mama, but this particular one is probably one of the most hilarious and telling:

Backstory: I used to HAVE TO sleep with my Bert and Ernie dolls. Stop snickering, this was no menage a trois (that's Three! Three people in bed! Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Lightning and Thunder!). This stemmed from my pure love of Sesame Street, especially Bert and Ernie. So, this one time when I was probably 3 or 4, I went to spend the night at my Mama's house but I FORGOT. ERNIE. AND. BERT. This was not something that was a small problem. I refused to go to bed without them. Eventually, my Mama decided she had to get me bed somehow. So, she started digging through her closets to try to find a stuffed animal.

Ok, so there were no stuffed animals. And what comes next is totally absurd. Mama found this purple, sparkly, plastic clutch purse. And she convinced me to sleep with it in lieu of Ernie and Bert. Yeah. For REAL. I cuddled a cheapy plastic purse and slept soundly all night. Perhaps this is why I dragged my heels for years before I bought a purse. I was a pockets girl all the way until college. This may also have to do with my fear of femininity. Anyways, that's my sleeping-with-a-purse story. I have this vivid picture in my mind of what the purse looked like. I scoured google images for something similar, but didn't find what I was looking for to show you. Here's the closest I got:

It was sort of combination of this:

And this:

That's stylish right there. So that's my sleeping with accessories story. I wonder if my Mama laughed to herself on that one. She must have. Cuz that's funny. Ok, it's late. I'm going to bed. With my Rosetti.

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: The Band. Which is like, THE BAND. Awesome.

Reading: Chesapeake.

Working Out: 30-Day Shred. Worked out 3 times with week despite a crazy busy schedule and the new place. I feel pretty good about that!

Watching: Sex and the City Season 4.

The Palace Part Deux

Whew. Man, we've been working hard on this house and it still isn't all put together yet! It's unbelievalbe to me that I own so. much. stuff. Actually, it's not that unbelievable. I'm a bit of a pack rat. I hate throwing things away. I think I had every birthday card I ever received until I went off to college. I went through my desk to throw things away (something I do every 20 years or so) and found all these cards from like my 8th birthday and stuff. I even found a $20 bill in one! Happy happy happy belated birthday to me! I also love to collect things like books, cds, records, etc. You know, heavy things. Things that make moving totally suck.

Examples of my Pack-rat-itude

Anyways, the house is going to look great once we have everything set up and unpacked. Except for the linoleum. I think I may have mentioned the linoleum. Here are a few promised pictures:

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwww!

Mmmmmk, now that that is out of the way, let me give some props to my boyfriend Chris. In one day, he was here to meet the cable/internet guy, the electrician, the other maintenance man, and the guys who came to replace the screens (who thought residents weren't in the place yet. When Chris answered the door, the guy apparently nearly wet himself). Anyways, that's a lot of stuff (thanks babe!). He also got a lot of our stuff set up, including what will be our music room. How sweet to have the space to even think about being able to have a whole room dedicated to music. Woo!

The ground floor is a lot more put together than the upstairs, so I've added some pics for your viewing pleasure. Welcome to The Palace (inside joke between Chris and I. Don't worry your pretty little heads about it):

Above is part of our living room space. We have our TV all set up (Chris and I have purchased two major things together: a canoe and this TV). Notice Chris's new Xbox 360, aka, his new girlfriend. I know it looks messy, but that's just because it is. My goal is to have things looking presentable by Saturday, when my mom is coming to visit. I doubt I'll have everything on the walls, but, I'm hoping to have the boxes unpacked and things put away. 

Here is another view so you can see the fireplace (fire!) and the sliding glass door. I bought the curtains (or so I thought) at Kmart for what I thought was a great deal. Turns out, it was only ONE panel of the two panel set. Chris had to go get ANOTHER one. Um, screw you Kmart. The picture showed two. Pictures should not lie. I'm too busy to read the packaging!

Here is the bunny's part of the living room. Yes, I realize he has a lot of space. Despite what many people think, rabbits actually do not do well cooped up all the time. You wouldn't either! Don't make me test you.

The kitchen. Looks pretty good... except for that floor! Notice the daisies Chris got me yesterday because I had a shitty/stressful day. I'm pretty lucky.

Well, that's a lot of pictures, but I'll have more when things start getting put together. We have some things to figure out still, mainly that Chris is coughing and sneezing a lot, even after we changed the air filters. Suggestions welcome!

Oh, and PS, I had another Ryan the Girl moment today on the phone at work. Someone kept saying they were looking for Ryan, and didn't get that that was ME. Took awhile to get him to comprehend that "this is she" means "THIS.IS.SHE."

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: Miles Davis. Actually, I'm getting ready to listen to Miles Davis here soon. Kind of Blue is still my favorite (and yes, I realize how cliche it is to like this particular album best but I do not care).

Reading: Chesapeake. Some crazay shit goin' down on the colonial eastern shore. Fo shizzle.

Working Out: Back to doing 30 Day Shred! Yay!

Watching: SNL Commericals on Netflix Instant on the Xbox! Technology is cool. Sometimes.

Our Palace

It's official. Chris and I are in our new (rented) house. We're sort-of camping right now, as most of the furniture is in storage until tomorrow (when we shall pick it up in a moving truck). We've blown up the blow-up mattress and pushed it next to Chris's single bed mattress on the floor of the master bedroom. It kind of feels like being at a sleep over or something.

The house is a two-floor, three-bedroom, 1&1/2-bath duplex (side-by-side style. I've never understood why people just don't call them townhouses). We plan on having a music room/office and a workshop in the two extra rooms. The house has lots of space, and we're really excited.

It is not, however, "perfect." The ugliest linoleum ever manufactured lives in the foyer and kitchen. Not only is it completely hideous, but it's scratched up and old. It seriously looks like someone went to a flooring store and said "I would like such-and-such square feet of your butt-ugliest flooring, please" and then took it home and punished it for being so frickin' disgusting-looking. Anyways, I'm sure it is there because it was dirt cheap to put in. Pictures will follow, don't worry. I haven't taken the time to dig my camera up out of the piles of stuff currently strewn about the place. One other thing is that the house is a weird orange color. Yeah, kinda gross, but it's not like we're living in the yard and always looking at it.

After we get settled in and put the furniture where we want it, I will go around the house to take some pics (in case you want to see it). We have a fireplace (! Fire is fun!), a small yard, and a few other cool things.

Yay for us!

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: "At Last" by Etta James. So good.
Reading: Chesapeake by James Michener, http://www.dooce.com/ by Heather Armstrong.
Watching: NOTHING, because the TV is not set up yet!
Working Out: Monday is the day I will finally be able to get back into my lovely routine. Can't wait.

Random Goings On

Whew, the past few days have been completely exhausting. I’m actually asleep right now. Pretty impressive how I can type and sleep at the same time, yes (call the circus!)? Lots to report:

My band had a couple gigs this weekend. One of them was a show at a local pub, which we do on a monthly basis. This time there was some guy who was totally trashed who kept yelling “play that again!” after every song (are you sure you don’t wanna hear maybe the next song instead?). We were talking about how it would have been funny to keep playing the same song over and over, but then decided he would be the only there not to notice. The other was at Presidents Park in Williamsburg. We played for about 7 bored people and 43 giant presidents (Obama has not been built yet!). The park is a winding sidewalk with 18-foot busts of every president for the public’s viewing pleasure, and is a sincerely strange place.

I was also woken up early every single day after a bunch of very late nights in a row. This morning I nearly punted my rabbit out the window when he woke me up at 7:30 (kidding. Instead I gave him treats. I’m such a good bunny mommy).


Let’s see, oh yeah, I got put on an antibiotic on Thursday (It’s hard to decide what the boundaries should be when it comes to writing a blog, but, I’ve made the call on this one, which is to say, “you don’t wanna know.” Mainly because I’m pretty sure you don’t). Anyhow, the reason I’m even mentioning it is that the bottle says not only “do not drink alcoholic beverages when taking this medication,” but also “check all medicine or food labels to help avoid hidden sources of alcohol.” Um? Sounds like my Metronidazole is telling me that a government conspiracy is afoot. Is The Man secretly injecting alcohol into our food? Does the FDA know about these “hidden sources?” Are they in on it? Will I get drunk if I eat enough processed food? Are they trying to keep the population in a stupor so we don’t rise up against them?


Also, I found my toothbrush cup in the dishwasher here in Grandma’s House World (told ya!). But, the same day, my toothpaste disappeared. So, I searched everywhere and found it in the makeup basket on top of the clothes dryer. Apparently my stuff is being spirited away by the Cleaning Fairy, who is the second-cousin-once-removed of the Tooth Fairy.


T minus 60 hours or so until I Chris and I get the keys to our new place. Things are going to cray-zay again, so I apologize if I can’t post as often.

RYAN’S RECOMMENDATIONS:


Listening: Check out the song “All for Leyna” by Billy Joel if you haven’t already. It’s freakin’ awesome.


Reading: Chesapeake. Jamestown, The Eastern Shore, indentured servants, canoes, mosquitoes, greatness.

Watching: Chris and I just watched the movie The Runaways, which is about Joan Jett’s first band. It’s about chicks who rock, what can I say?

Working out: Being bad.

Farfels and Three-Legged Ducks

Today was one of those days where I got my ass kicked by life. I just wanted to sit on the floor and throw my hands in the air and say “I give up.” But, on the bright side, I only cried twice (go me!). One thing that helped was today’s post on my favorite blog site, dooce.com. I literally laughed hysterically at my desk. I worship the writer, Heather Armstrong. She’s a total badass, and a professional blogger at that. Sometimes you just need a good laugh (and other times you need a good drink, but I was at work so what was I to do?).

When I got back to Grandma’s House World, I was still feeling pretty down. So, after dinner I went for a run (exercising makes me feel better when I’m having a crap day). Ok, I realize that running right after eating is not advisable (can you say hello dinner?). I usually workout before I have dinner, however, I’m not trying to make my grandma wait to eat, so I’ve been eating dinner with her as soon as I get home. I was going to wait about an hour before I ran, but the weather person was howling about huge, scary thunderstorms coming our way. So, I reckoned, the only way to get a run in was to go right then. So I did. Mmmmm, lasagna burps.

Part of why exercising when I’m down helps is that I have a second to clear my head of all the stressful elements of the day. Usually, the space once occupied by scary-bad-stressful shit gets overtaken by completely random, weird, useless, silly, fun things. And this is good. Today while running, for whatever reason, I started thinking about some things my mother taught my sister and I.

Now, I’m not talking mother-daughter advice or anything like that. I’m talking about how my mom taught my sister and me incorrect things ON PURPOSE. Pause for reaction. Allow me to paint a picture (with words; you saw my half-assed attempts at visual art here): I’m a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (squirrel?) college freshman English major hanging out with my newly acquired friends. As I’m getting to the bottom of the bag of chips we are all sharing, I politely ask if anyone wants the farfels at the bottom of the bag. That’s right, “farfels.” What, you ask, is a “farfel?” Well, “farfel” is a word my mother made up and taught my sister and I. Of course, I somehow made it 18-years without knowing this wasn’t a word! Farfels are the little crumbs at the bottom of the bag, or the little fuzzies that come off your socks, or the things that make you want to die on-the-spot of embarrassment. They’re just little bits of stuff, basically. But, how is it that a girl who was 18 and majoring in English (words are my thing!) could sincerely grow up to think that a word that is not a word is a word (word yo)? The answer is that my mom is sneaky and has a very silly sense of humor. Oh, and she got my dad in on it. He still says “farfel.” I just imagine my mom stepping aside every so often to laugh evilly in private at sending her kid to college armed with an arsenal of false information. (A PS- There is some argument amongst us about how the “word” farfel is spelled. The way it is presented here is my spelling. My sister insists that such a ridiculous, fake word should be spelled pharphal).

The other famous related incident happened with my sister (thank god. Not sure I could have dealt with two of these). For whatever reason, my mom thought it would be funny to teach her that ducks have three legs. Why ducks? I have no freakin’ clue. But, my sister went to preschool sincerely believing that ducks have three legs. When you’re 4 you believe the things your parents teach you! So, when my sister drew a duck with three legs in class one day, and the teacher asked her why she would do such a thing, my sister most certainly gave her the are-you-stupid? look. “Um, because ducks have three legs, you dumbass.” So, once the teacher discerned that Kathleen sincerely believed ducks to have three legs and that this was something her mom taught her, she called home to chide my mother for teaching her children things that weren’t true. Hil-ar-i-ous, no?

This duck was born in China. So my sister WAS right...

Anyways, some parents might be horrified, but I think this is incredibly funny. People need to stop taking themselves and their kids so seriously! Although, sometimes I still do wonder what else I have been doing or saying that is totally wrong…

(Hi mom!)

Also, one Grandma’s House World moment of panic today: I went to brush my teeth and the plastic cup I keep my toothbrush in had mysteriously disappeared. My toothbrush was put in another cup with MAKEUP BRUSHES (ew). I suspect I will find my cup being held hostage by the dishwasher.

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: Back on a Joni Mitchell kick at the moment. For the Roses, and right now I'm loving "You Turn Me On, I'm a Radio." What a great track.

Reading: Chesapeake. Seriously, I'm ready to read all of Michener's books.

Working Out: As I mentioned above, I've been running, walking, etc. My exercise DVDs are all packed. Frowny face.

(Parentheses)

Whew, it has been a long, grey day (and if you’re cringing at my use of “grey” with an “e,” then stop it and just deal with it- It’s correct and I like the way it looks and it reminds me of mustard). Is it me, or has it been grey for like a whole week now?

It has been brought to my attention that I use parentheses ( ) a lot in my writing (this may or may not be true). ) I was trying to figure out why I do this, and I think I found an answer (and the answer was right under my nose)). The answer is this: I like to write in a conversational tone (ok, that may not be en(tirely clear, so let me elaborate). () I write like (I) speak. When I’m carrying on a conversation, I speak in run-on sentences ((((and constantly add asides)))). So, when I write informally ((which is the same way I speak)), in o)rder to avoid using horribly long sentences with ten commas and thirteen thoughts, I add the asides in (parentheses).(!) ((()(((((()))))((())))(()()()()()()()(((((((((((((((0))))))((()()()()()()())(()()()(0 Woo!

Here is the definition according to Karlonia.com: "Parentheses are punctuation marks that enclose supplementary material such as explanations, clarifications, or afterthoughts within the text of a sentence or paragraph. In standard English prose, an enclosed parenthetical expression provides the reader with information that is interesting to know but does not change the meaning of a sentence in which it is included."

This means I'm using them correctly (right?). (((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

(So, if you’re ) irritated with them pop(ping up everywhere all the time, then please accept my humble apology (and then get used to them).

Look what else you can do with parentheses(!):

Hoo (?)

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:
 
Reading: I'm about 40 pages into Chesapeake by James Michener. So far the story follows a young man named Pentaquod who leaves his village and tribe and canoes down the river to The Chesapeake Bay. I feel like I'm experiencing tasting oysters and goose for the first time with him.
 
Listening: My friend Galen is performing in town tomorrow so I've been listening to his album Some Perspective again in the car. Support local music and download it or buy the CD (if you like it!)

Make...Believe

Not much to report over here in Grandma's House World today. Though, I must say, living in a gated community is so weird. Again, like another planet. Of course, I took a long walk this evening, and, in this highly-monitored environment, I still had some jerk yelling things at me from his car while I was strolling down the street. If I was Spaceman Spiff, I would have set my lazer gun to "kill-me-a-dumbass." Made me wonder how much members pay to feel "safe" in their community. Sigh. I always fantasize about coming up with the perfect response to these people, but it never seems to come out of my mouth. All this talk of Spaceman Spiff if making me wish my Calvin and Hobbes books weren't in storage.

Anyways, earlier today, my grandma told me that, if I wanted, I could put my makeup in this basket in the bathroom. And, I was like, "um, I don't actually wear makeup," and my grandma gave me the does-not-compute look and just said, "oh." So I started thinking about makeup and my lack thereof. I was trying to remember how old I was when my friends started wearing it, and I came up with 7th grade. So, the girls who started wearing makeup when they were 13 have 11 years of makeup wearing experience on me. Wow. Actually, I tried eye shadow in 7th grade for a hot minute. I remember putting a shitton of blue, green, or brown eye shadow on and then trying to get out of the house without getting crap from anyone. And  I also remember being stopped by my parents for "looking like a hooker" and then being made to wipe it off. I wanted to look that way (like a hooker) SO BADLY. When you're in 7th grade, you want to do everything everyone else is doing SO BADLY. And if you're not allowed, it's NOT FAIR! I HATE YOU! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! And it's the end of the world as you know it. I remembering wanting "flared" jeans so badly it physically hurt. Anyways, I also once got my makeup done in New York City on my 16th birthday. Looking back at the pictures, I would say that I looked like a total clown. So, I went to a Broadway show like this:

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!

I'm not trying to offend people who wear makeup, but I just don't get it. Why do we need to cover up our beautiful faces? And why should women, not men, be especially expected to wear it? And what the hell do 13-year-olds with babies' butts for skin need with frickin' makeup?????? Like, for seroius! A 13-year-old needs makeup like a fat kid needs a second piece of cake (yes, I'm going to hell). I also remember playing soccer in high school with this one girl who was totally obsessed with makeup. She would "do" her makeup before playing a soccer game. Um? And, rumor had it, she "did" her makeup before GOING TO SLEEP. In case someone decided to photograph her while she slept? In case there was a fire and she had to run outside (and had to look perfect)? SOMEONE EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!

Anywho, I don't wear makeup. Ever. Neither does my sister. Maybe we just have good genes? (: I really don't want to. And I don't want to "have" to like some women say they do.

Anyways, I'd love to hear from some women who do wear makeup and like it. Get the other side of things. I sincerely just don't get it!

And yes, I realize I failed Girl 101.

RYAN'S RECOMMENDATIONS:

Listening: My stepmom recommended Firecracker by The Wailin' Jennys to me. I haven't listened to it yet, but I've heard great things about the band.

Reading: Chesapeake by James Michener. Only 20 pages in, but I'm really enjoying his writing style and the first main character, Pentaquod.

Working Out: I went for a long walk today (as I mentioned above). It was mentally relaxing. If you are unable to do high impact exercise, walk walk walk.