I hate the GD Central Valley! Yes, more bitching...

My teeth hurt, my ears itch, my skin is red and I can't stop sneezing. GODDAMNED ALLERGIES!
I'm having reactions that I didn't know were possible.
It's amazing. John Steinbeck wrote about this part of the world in "East of Eden," he didn't mention that Eden antagonized allergies like no other place in the world. I used to dream about these fertile green valleys, now I curse them.
As an allergy sufferer I am given the opportunity to choose between two evils...pure suffering (see above) or an anti-histamine haze (I've been know to misspell my own name under the influence of Benadryl). I choose the former, but begrudgingly.
*itch* *scratch* *sneeze* *swear*
I hate this time of the year.

And my heel is getting worse. It's time to shake down Kaiser for a visit to a specialist. I went to buy special inserts for my shoes today and cringed when I read the packaging materials. At 26, NOTHING in my life should be advertised as "orthopedic." *sigh*

While at the sports shop buying my old lady inserts, I ran into EK, a classmate of mine from high school. She was married, thin, and a homeowner. I was grungy, fat, single, and by default, singing the praises of my affordable rental situation. This was not the reunion I hoped for.
To be fair, EK and I never hung out in high school and only associated with one another through student government. I was the school president and she was a cheerleader so pep rallies, football games, and the senior sorority (she was in it, I got them booted off campus) provided us with some common ground in those days. However, this afternoon there was no heartwarming reunion, just an uncomfortable update of current situations. She gave me the condensed version of her life and I whipped out my crimson *L* and we parted ways. Needless to say, I felt like hell the rest of the day and punished myself accordingly.
I ate everything in sight (I swear I spent $20 on just food today). And now, now I feel worse.

Went to visit D in his new apartment. He hates it and I can't blame him--the place does suck, but there is a certain comfort in knowing that he's finally settled somewhere. I don't think he has the energy to find a new place (the vacancy rate here is 1%), but I know that he's going to be miserable with his choice. Why does the place suck? What's my offering of empirical evidence? The complex is slightly run down, the neighbors are just this side of trashy, the apartment itself is small and dingy, and the parking lot screams "break into my car." I don't suspect that I'll be spending that much time there. How amusing would it be if the final nail in the coffin of our relationship was his choice of residence? God I sound shallow.
And speaking of shallow...D got FAT living at my place, OMG. Since he's been here we've gone out to eat for almost every shared meal and it shows. He's still appealing as ever but now there's a bohemoth belly added to the equation. If he's gained that much within the last month, I fear for the numbers that will welcome me when I step on the scale. Crap.

Eep.

Hrm, what else, what else? I watched Outside Providence tonight on Carl's recommendation. What a miserable movie with only a soundtrack to redeem it.

Ick.

(no subject)

Stolen from posthaste....

1. What do you most want to be remembered for?
It sounds like a cliched answer, but for making a difference in the world in that "giving a voice to those who have no voice" sort of way. Where and when? I've yet to figure that out...

2. What quotation best fits your outlook on life?
Today? "There is nothing to be done and everything to be endured." --Matthew Arnold. You gotta love those British fatalists.

3. What single achievement are you most proud of in the past year?
Um, er, this is terrible...not a thing. I was almost proud of graduating and getting all As last term but that didn't quite happen...gd incomplete and my stupid hang-ups.

4. What about the past ten years?
Growing up. I did it without the financial and emotional support of my family and I'm damned proud that I've fared as well as I have.

5. If you were asked to give a child a single piece of advice to guide them through life, what would you say?
I'd forward the advice of a beloved professor and advisor, "Don't select yourself for failure, there's plenty of people who will do that for you."

"There's the wind and the rain and the mercy of the fallen,
Who say they have no claim to know what's right."
-Dar Williams

Of Human Bondage...

"It seemed to him that all his life he had followed the ideals that other people, by their words or their writings, had instilled into him, and never by the desires of his own heart. Always his course had been swayed by what he thought he should do and never by what he wanted with his whole soul to do...He had lived always in the future, and the present always, always had slipped through his fingers. His ideals? He thought of his desire to make a design, intricate and beautiful, out of the myriad, meaningless facts of life; had he not seen also that the simplest pattern, that in which a man was born, worked, married, had children, and died was likewise the most perfect? It might be that to surrender to happiness was to accept defeat, but it was as defeat better than many victories."
--William Somerset Maugham

Ever remember reading something that changed your life? It may have been a phrase or a story, but it held a power that changed something fundamentally inside of you. What was it if "it" ever presented itself to you? This was my moment...the words that changed the course of many things for me, not necessarily for the better.

When I was younger, every choice I made in my life was perceived to be a potential crisis with failure looming behind every "wrong" decision. I needed a life that was extraordinary and that life would be painstakingly crafted. I was going to be "more." In those days, "more" never really felt "right" even when I was able to achieve it. I loved the accolades but was at a loss for what to do when the applause died down and I was left with the spoils of the victor.
And then I read Of Human Bondage and I saw myself in Philip. This final passage begged the question "why" and I slowed down to consider it. Was I happy? Not really. Were the things that I so eagerly sought out the desires of my own heart? Not in the least. Could I rest comfortably in the arms of a happy, albeit "less extraordinary" life? The odds were very good.

And so I slowed down, sought out fewer things, accepted less, tried to be more gentle with myself and more content with the simpler things in life.

It's gotten me nowhere.

*sigh*

And just for popular culture kicks, I like this one too...

Wear Sunscreen.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97: Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.
The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas
the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering
experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But
trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in
a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how
fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The
real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your
worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who
are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're
behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in
doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do
with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still
don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're
gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you
won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on
your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself
too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are
everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what
other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be
nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people
most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should
hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because
the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were
young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in
Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will
philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that
when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and
children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund.
Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one
might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past
from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and
recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

By Mary Schmich
The Chicago Tribune
Originally published: Sunday, June 1, 1997