UPDATE!  Ok, remember how I told you that my power cord was all fuckered up?  Well it appears as if the prong in the center of the power cord broke off in the laptop.  Groovy.  To say I was embarrssed when the my Genius, Tomas, told me what was wrong would be an understatement.  However, Tomas was very cool and said they had the parts to replace the power port and my power cord.  Too bad it’s going to set me back $115.  Sheesh!  But on the bright side, I left it there last night around 7pm, I got a call at 9am that it was fixed and ready to be picked up.  How groovy is that!

God bless Mac!


So I’m having computer problems, which totally and utterly blows.

I have a mac and let’s say my power cord has seen better days (currently wrapped in duck tape to keep from falling apart). But now it seems my damn laptop won’t hold a charge. So I have to take it in to the store to see if its, 1) the cord, 2) the laptop, or 3) the cord and the laptop.

Tonight, I have an appointment with the Genius bar at the Mac store in Clarendon. Generally speaking I find the genius bar to be, well… genius. You schedule an appointment online, you show up at the appointed time and you talk with a tech support export, they figure out whats wrong with your computer and either fix it on the spot if they can, or send it off and have it fixed.

It’s a wonderful idea! Except when it’s the last week before Christmas and I’m going to have to find parking in Clarendon and fight mad-middle aged women desperate to get their kid the newest ipod…

*sigh*… pray I survive the night.


Did anyone catch the Republican Debate yesterday?  It was at a weird time, 2pm hosted by the Iowa Registrar and broadcast by PBS.  Of course, being the last debate before the primary MSNBC and CNN picked it up as well so I had a little afternoon delight to view at work yesterday. And low and behold guess who I see among the sea of white men, but Alan Keys.  That’s right Alan FUCKING Keys.

You remember him don’t you?  Alan Keys as in the most conservative man in the United States?  Whiter than Strom Thurman and just as racist (which is confusing).  Father of a lesbian and spends his time spouting hate speech against our GLBT citizens?  Yeah THAT Alan Keys.

Yeah he was in the debate, and I don’t mean like jumping up to ask questions, he was on the God Damn stage!  Totally confused because I was almost sure we were finally rid or this whackjob on the national level I google Keys and Iowa.  Apparently anyone can get on the Caucus ballot in Iowa.  Seriously its so easy I’m considering signing up my dog just to see how many votes he can take away from Keys.  Keys is only on the ballot in Iowa, not really making him a national candidate but apparently he thinks he’s there to make a point and yell at the other candidates so Iowa was legally bound to let him participate.

Lucky me because I got myself a show yesterday.  Weird thing about Keys,  as conservative as he is, Keys has this way of talking like a Minister in an African American church, you know the type, like Jesse Jackson.  Except instead of rallying on justice, equality, and nondiscrimination, he spouts the opposite.  He continually got upset with the moderator a rather plump woman with sever hair and sort or emo glasses.  She was bitchy and would cut off the candidates reminding them of the time limit and if they continued to go over the time she would have to continue to cut their response allotment down.  She was bitchy, putting these old white guys in there places.

I liked her.

But Keys, he was having none of it, he interrupted accused her of skipping him and that she was rigging the debate to favor the front-runners, blah blah blah, wah wah wah.   She continued to chid him and kind of threatened to have him removed at one point.  It was hot, I can only imagine the rage he felt at having a woman assert her authority over him.  He continued to show his self-righteous indignation throughout the debate making a total and complete fool of himself.  But, as all good things do, the debate ended and I was forced back to my computer to pretend to work a little longer.

Keys got me thinking though, about a time in my life when I was a self-righteous indignant little shit.  A period in my life I call the age of 19.  I was such a prick at 19, as I suspect many of us were.  I thought I was so wise, educated, open-minded and mature.  The summer between my freshman and sophomore I rolled up to my parents’ house, it no longer being my house, no I was a woman of academia, the world was my home now; cock, arrogant, and immature.  I was such a dick to my folks that summer I’m amazed they still speak to me.

I was especially awful to my father.  My dad is old school, you know?  He grew up in a well-to-do wealthy southern family.  He learned early how to live in that world of privilege and expectation.  He’s a Republican, of course, with traditional values and feelings.  And at 19, I was an ultra-liberal feminist driving cross the state to participate in protests and threatening to get my nosed pierced.  I was outspoken, indignant, and actually quite angry.  Dad became my target.   Let me give you a picture, I think it will help illuminate our relationship.  I had returned from my crap summer retail job and was soaking in the hot tub out back.  My dad came out to join me and asked me about my day.  Of course I started bitching, I worked retail for Christ’s sake, there is nothing pleasant to say about that line of work.  The conversation goes a little like this:

Me: “I hate my boss.  She’s so rude to the college students because she knows we’re going to leave at the end of the summer.  She can be such a bitch sometimes.”

Dad:  “Now, DivaLizaB, is that a way a young lady talks?”

Me: “I don’t know father, how the fuck should a lady talk?”

I got out of the hot tub and didn’t speak to him for two weeks.  Many fights lead to me not speaking to my dad over the years.  I once went 8 months without speaking to him, asking for mother if he happened to answer the phone when I called home and avoiding him over the holidays.  I think it hurt my mother the most.  She was our go between both of us bitchy to her about how the other was completely inflexible, ignorant, and hateful.   I feel bad about that, I really do.

Since college,  my dad and I have gotten better.  I still wouldn’t say we are the best of pals, but  we get along and  understand each other a little better.  My father has stopped chiding me for not doing things the way he’d do it and I’ve stopped bringing home documentaries on gender reassignment (sex change) surgeries.

It’s a give and take.

I have been invited to a holiday reception at the Governor’s mansion this weekend.  I sit on a political committee that warranted my invitation and I was allowed to bring a guest.  Typically I would go to one of my stand by gays, I mean dates, but instead the first person I thought of was my dad.  Yes my gun loving, Republican father would get a kick out of meeting the governor.  When I called him to ask if he’d like to go, I could hear the pride in his voice when he accepted.  His daughter, hobnobbing with the governor.

I think he was always worried about me going into politics, engineering seemed a much stabler route.  And I think he pushed me because of that fear.  Who wants a deadbeat kid at 30 out championing silly causes and getting arrested at protests.  I can understand his fear, he grew up in the 70s when that shit happened all the time.  But I think he understands that there is a different side of politics, the side of policy, power, and change.  I think, well I hope at any rate, that he sees me as a part of that side of politics.  I’m not a dirty hippie making out with a girl named Fawn (although I’m not saying that isn’t a possibility, it just hasn’t occurred), I’m not burning a flag outside the White House, I’m not taking swings at cops trying to protect an old lot from being torn down.  His deepest fears unrealized.

Although, it’s been two years since I started leaving HRC literature in his bathroom and I have noticed that he doesn’t seem to flinch anymore when my gay roommates come by.  So even though he’s rubbed off on me, bringing some of that sense of properness to my edgeness.  But I think I’ve rubbed off on him too, afterall I got the man to vote for Tim Kaine, Jim Webb and vote No on the anti-family Constitutional Amendment  last year.  So maybe we are a good influence on each other after all these years.

Although he gets to drink with the governor and I get to help paint the new house, I really think he’s getting the better end of this deal.

Could have been the hot chocolate last night, or the conversation with good friends, but I’m not as crabby today.

That is all.  🙂

I like to laugh.  Strike that, I love to laugh. humor is my defense mechanism, my ice breaker, my way of being romantic, how I solidify relationships.  I honestly believe laughter is the key to a happy life.  I try to find humor in my hardships, recognizing that as bad as I think it is, someone is always worse off, so I might as well enjoy the ride.

But sometimes, like today, I just don’t feel funny.  I can’t find the humor in my life, and I find it difficult to laugh at jokes even.  It’s fat girl depression, I think.  It hits me every once and a while, usually triggered by some event; a comment from a skinny person about how fat they are, or a guy telling a story about a night at the bar with a buddy who wanted to score with the cute girl so he had to take one for the team with the fatty sidekick, a woman will comment on how cute I look in those shoes, earrings, makeup, but not my dress, pants, blouse.  It’s hearing that whisper when you reach for a holiday cookie “she doesn’t need that,” or being offered diet coke from the host. 

These are all little things not meant to hurt, yet the sting is deep.  My last post was about the excitement I felt about all the holiday parties I was going to experience, but after my experience on Saturday night, I may rethink my attendance.  I had not one, not two, but three people make gestures or comments about my weight in a two hour period.  It was surreal.  I had bought a cute little baby-doll velvet dress in the beautiful blue on Black-Friday.  I was proud of my purchase, it was a little daring for me but Tim Gunn says velvet is in this season so I took the leap. 

A close friend of mine, a woman I’ve known since before either of us hit puberty was my date, so to speak, to the party.  When she arrived at my door for the short jaunt across my apartment complex she had a wide-eyed expression on her face.  “You look smokin’ hot!” she said to me.  I beamed.  Especially since this friend happens to be a leggy, size 2 blonde with a nice rack.  I pale in comparison to that walking wet dream.  But I could tell she meant it, and that gave me the confidence to stick with the outfit and venture out.  The party was full of people I knew with a few people I didn’t mixed in.  Old friends were throwing this shindig so I felt pretty comfortable being there.  However, as I poured myself some wine and grabbed a piece of cheese from the tray I was shocked when I turned around to see a guy staring at me and sort of whispering to a girl next to him.  I could tell by the way he stared that it wasn’t one of those “where have you been all my life, beautiful,” stares.  No it was more like “what in Gods name is that, is that a person or some kind or primate?” stare. 

It was rude.  And it startled me, especially since I considered myself surrounded by friends.  I didn’t know this bloke, or the emaciated girl on his arm.  By the way, in case you were wondering, she wore a strapless mini dress in silver and black and had a pile of brown curls topped on her head, kind or like Fran Drescher in the early years of The Nanny.  When he noticed I was returning his look, he quickly turned away; obviously embarrassed I had caught him critiquing me.  I hadn’t even had a sip of my wine and some jackass has to go and ruin it for me. 

Annoyed, but determined to enjoy myself, this was my turf after all, I decided to completely ignore him and his whore, I mean woman, and make the best of the night.  Maybe three minutes later I was in the living room talking to my roommate J. and two of our friends from college, now married to each other.  They just bought a house and were telling us about the renovations.  The husband, let’s call him R. and I are old acquaintances but I wouldn’t say we are close.  I’m closer to his wife A, but R. and I have always been friendly.  However, I wouldn’t say we are close enough for him to say to me, “So DivaLizaB, I heard about your break-up, depression eating is the worst.  Have you tried exercise to get through it instead of food?”

My jaw dropped so far I accidentally kicked it with my shoe as I tried to leave the situation.  I had no words and I was filled with two feelings, 1) of being totally pissed off that this asshole would say such a rude and mean spirited thing to a woman that he pretty much knows only in passing and 2) totally and completely mortified that my weight was so heinous a man I barely knew felt obligated to point it out.  As I turned to leave the conversation, shaking my head slightly in disbelief but not saying anything I heard A. chide him and I could tell she was embarrassed.  My roommate tried to grab my arm, but I made a beeline for the front door.  I got halfway down the steps and out into the parking lot before remembering my keys and coat were behind the now locked front door I had just vacated.

I did the only logical thing a girl in my situation would do, I sat on the curb while contemplating how I could casually knock on the door and ask someone to fetch my things.  It was weird, my checks were hot with embarrassment and anger.  I could fear the tears behind my eyes but I willed them away.  I wanted to barge back in there and tell that prick off at the same time I wanted to sneak home, crawl under the covers and cry myself to sleep. 

I think I was out there for two minutes before my roommate came out with my leggy blonde friend N. and the asshole’s wife A.  J. put my coat around me and sat on the curb next to me, N. did the same.  A. apologized for her husband’s behavior and I could tell that she was sincere and actually quite embarrassed by the situation.  I thanked her for her apology and gave her a look that indicated I was genuine and that I’d like her to piss off.  Left in the cold with J. and N., I just sat there, feeling stupid.  After about five minutes N. asked if I wanted to leave.  I thought about it, I really did, but I had been looking forward to this party and I wanted to try and have a good memory of it.  So I went back in.  I didn’t make eye contact with A. or R. and went straight to the bar, poured myself a huge glass of Pinot and drank half before I made it out into the dinning room. 

Everything was fine…for about an hour.  At this point I was out on the balcony with the smokers.  I don’t smoke, but I used to, God did I used to… and I still love the smell even if I don’t partake.  I was leaning against the rail, kind of leaning backwards to look at the sky when I heard a voice in front of me.  “What a cute dress!,”  I snapped up a bit and saw a woman I sorta knew, she was a coworker of one of our hosts and we had met once before over the summer.  Before I could say, “thanks,” she continued with “is it a maternity dress?”  What the hell do you say to that?  Was she trying to ask me in a round about way if I was pregnant?  Did I look pregnant?  I didn’t think so, I was rockin a big chunky belt pulling in that section not to mention the control top panty hose AND the spanks I wore over them to make sure I was fully sucked in.  I stared at her for a second and said “no.” She looked confused, wondering why a pregnant woman was not wearing a maternity dress… and perhaps why she was chugging a glass of wine… I smiled obnoxiously and wiggled my glass indicating it was time to fill up and went in the house. 

Three separate events all dealing with my fat ass in less than an hour and a half. I wasn’t even midnight yet.  I went to the bar to pour myself more to drink but instead I threw my cup away and walked to the front bedroom to get my things.  Thank God I had walked, I didn’t have to worry about finding a DD and I was just buzzed enough that the alcohol was killing the pain in my feet from my wicked heels.  I didn’t bother to say anything to anyone, I just walked out of the bedroom, crossed the hall and walked out the front door.  About halfway home, I felt bad about leaving my friends, they were probably looking for me.  I sent a text message to N. simply telling her I was going home.  My phone rang about three seconds after I sent the text, I didn’t answer.  Then my roommate tried calling, I didn’t answer that one either. 

Finally N. texted me, “u want company?”
“no,” I sent back. 

I wanted to wallow.  Alone. With lots of Wine. 

I got home, immediately peeled off my heels by the front door, went to my room and changed into pjs and went to the kitchen to check on the dog.  He greeted me with a wagging tail and sloppy lick.  I poured myself some more wine, popped some popcorn and sat on the couch with the dog at my feet.  I watched a show on the Discovery channel about the Giant Squid, occasionally throwing a piece of popcorn down to the dog and drank myself silly.  Around 1 and put the dishes in sink, threw away the empty bottle of cab sav and went to bed.  My roommates and N. came in around 1:30, N. knocked on my door but I didn’t answer, pretending to be asleep.  I could hear them talking in the foyer, my roommates helping N. with her coat and wishing her a goodnight. 

“It’s ok,” I could hear my roommate P. say to N. “these kinds of things just happen sometimes, I’m sure she’ll be alright.” 

I thought about that for a long time.  These sort of things do happen sometimes, but does that make it ok?  Should I grin and bare it as just being a part of my life?  I’m fat so I should expect reproachful looks, rude comments, and ignorance?  I didn’t cry Saturday, I don’t like to cry and I rarely let myself shed tears, instead I lay in bed getting angrier and angrier cursing myself because all I wanted to do was make a late night run to Wendys and eat until I wasn’t upset anymore. 

I didn’t.  But I wanted to. 

Finally, after watching the Matrix on one of the movie channels, I finally went to sleep.  The next day was a little awkward but bless my roommates they didn’t say anything.  I blew off three commitments I had yesterday, to stay indoors and deal.  I just couldn’t go, I didn’t have the strength.  I went to bed early last night, just after Family Guy. I thought about my ex, for the first time in a long time.  He didn’t seem to mind my rotund ass and stomach full of rolls.  I wondered if I had blown an opportunity, an opportunity for happiness because what is the likelihood I’d find another man willing to love a fatty like me. 

I did cry last night.  For a few minutes, I really don’t like to do it, some weird psychological thing I have yet to figure out.  Afterwards I felt cathartic.  I know these feelings will pass, that I will again being jumping around with my friends tell inappropriate jokes and send funny emails around.  But now… today… I don’t.  And these feelings are just as real as the happy ones, so I’m going to embrace them and push through the week.   

I  don’t have really interesting to say today.   I’ve been traveling for business most of the week, which blows because I missed the snow.  I love snow.  Let me emphasize that correctly… I LOOOVE snow.  I love the smell, the taste, rolling in it, making snow men, watching the dog prance threw the deep parts… I love everything about it.  So its a little bit of an understatement to say I was disappointed to have missed the first snow of the season.

But , that being said, I am super stoked for all the up coming holiday parties.  I’ve got two this weekend. Tonight is a wine tasting party which will be really fun.  My friend has got an expert coming in to give us the low down on the different wines and what to pair them with.  And while all the info is groovy, I’m just looking forward to the massive amount of wine I’m going to consume tonight.  Nothing says happy holidays like a gallon of Pinot Noir.

Now the other tradition of the holidays is to try and out hot the rest of the patrons of the event.  There will be many different types of people at each of the parties, coworkers, friends, friends of friends, the guy in the green sweat you made out with last New Year’s… So you have to dress to impress.  This year I will fluctuate between a couple stand-by outfits, but I’m really stoked about my Black-Friday find of a beautiful blue velvet cocktail dress.  I’ve decided to pair it with black tights and a fierce belt.  As a bigger lady, we often left to hideous loud prints with antlers and Christmas trees laced across our asses.  It’s not pretty.  But, I must say I look phenomenal in this outfit.  My ass is high, my boobs are banging, and my curves are in all the right places.

Winter is the perfect season for big girls.  The fashion of the season emphasizes covering the body instead of showing off the parts of it.   We get to wear cute sweaters, fun accessories like scarves and hats, and dark colors are in which is oh so helpful on those rolls and thunder thighs.  I’m also super stoked that tights are in this season.  For us chunk-munks, tights serve dual roles, cute fashion accessory, and leg shaper.  Hence, our plentiful calves, full thighs, and rotund asses look proportioned, curvy, and pretty.  It is awesome.   In the spirit of the season, I’ll be rockin’ my dark dress and black tights as I eat my way through a rack of gingerbread cookies.

So, Eat your hearts out skinny bitches, the holidays belong to my people, the eaters, the one’s with cottage cheese thighs and sagging boobs.  This is our season.  The food line starts to the left.

I love this time of year. 

The leaves are falling, but there’s still a hint of color left.   The wind is blowing and the temperature has dropped to that perfect hot chocolate cold.  I’ve broken out my sweaters and I’m sleeping in long underwear again.  It’s perfect.

There’s something about the months of November and December that make me all warm and fuzzy inside.  Perhaps its Starbucks hawking their peppermint mochas, but the Holidays just get me in that mood.  You know that mood, the one that makes you want to string lights, hug your friends, and make promises to quit smoking or lose weight?  Oh, and of course, this mood also makes you want to eat every single piece of cake, cookie, and pie that enters any part of your vision.  While this eat-fest is indeed enjoyable, there are concerns about the massive amounts of poundage that will, undoubtedly, take refuge on my ass and thighs.

But fuck-it.  I don’t care about the impending weight of doom.  I’m too busy wearing thermal socks and drinking tea while watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  I’m wearing my favorite scarves and shopping for gifts for my loved ones.  It’s nice, fun, and comforting. 

Also around this time of year, the nostalgia is palpable.  I can’t tell you how many conversations I have begun with a phrase like “Oh this reminds of me of when…”  It’s a nice feeling, to remember the goods times.  It’s even not so bad to remember the not so good times.  They helped make me who I am; after all, even if they were painful at the time, I’m grateful for them.  In that spirit, I saw old friends this weekend.  It was nice to put my arms around them and joke with them, and fall asleep on the couch because I was so totally exhausted next to them.  Still, I wasn’t able to spend a lot of time with them because of my crazy insane schedule.  I do regret that sometimes.  But  it was fun to reminisce and  share memories again.    Still, I get sad when I think about how little I get to see some of them. 

But, moving on.  I don’t want to dwell on unpleasantness, because in fact, I have something happy to disclose.  I have a crush on a boy!  Since my last relationship ended (which reminds me I need to update my facebook page), I’ve been feeling kind or down, which I think is normal, and maybe a little bit like a failure.  But I discovered over the weekend that I have a little crush and I’m thrilled! 

I’ve known this boy for a short while, less than a year, but I consider us friends and I am happy he’s in my life.  But recently we’ve started talking more, mostly because of the organization we are both in, and I don’t know, I think he’s cute, and funny, and really smart, and genuine and just a really fantastic person. 

The interesting thing, if interesting is the right word, is that he is in a wheelchair; has been his whole life.  And while I have never considered myself discriminatory toward disabled people, I’ve never really found myself attracted to anyone physically disabled before.  But, this guy, let’s call him “S” gives me butterflies.  He’s charming, has killer eyes, and is hysterical.  And I am totally crushing on him.  It feels nice to be giddy again.  In fact, I caught myself flirting with him a little bit this weekend.  I think I’m going to continue the trend and bake some cookies to take to him, something girly and a little suggestive.  After all, what good are crushes if you can’t indulge a little in the process?

Ok, this ends my update.  Down side, slightly depressed and overwhelmed.  Plus side, happy nostalgia and new crush. 

I think it is the most wonderful time of the year. 


To Help celebrate your day, I decided to write you a little poem.   (I apologize in advance).

A Birthday Poem

Today is the anniversary of the day of your birth

And I just know, it will be filled with great mirth.


And to celebrate this most auspicious day,

I wrote this shitty poem,

So sorry for the dismay.


Yet, Even though I will miss tonight’s festivities,

Know that  I share in all your proclivities.

Which is why I shall return tomorrow afternoon,

To get you shit faced on beer and perhaps a little Boone. 

My best friend’s birthday is tomorrow; a big birthday, the 25th one.  She’s blogging about her thoughts on it over at unquietheart.com.  It’s funny, as I read her thoughts on the blahness I said out loud “me too,” to no one but my boss’ dog who just looked at me funny before giving his balls another tongue bath. 

Perhaps the weather is affecting me.  It’s been so wonky and I feel like fall was really short and I didn’t have a lot of time to adjust to the temperatures, early sunsets, or dry skin.  I haven’t felt quite right for several weeks now.  I thought going home to see my family for Thanksgiving would help, and it did, for a while, but again I find myself encompassed in the overwhelming feeling of… blah… 

A couple weeks ago, a very good friend of mine resigned from a position in an organization that we are both very involved in.  Upon his resignation, I took over the position and I’m effectively running the organization.  My feelings on this range from totally thrilled to completely overwhelmed, to content, to sad.  I’m sad my friend had to resign, I’m sad his feelings were hurt in the process.  I’m really sad he feel embracement or a sense of failure.  He’s my friend; I don’t like to see him hurt. 

On the other hand, I’m really excited about what I can do with this position.  I feel like I’ve already done a lot in the three weeks since I took over.  We’ve got a lot to do as an organization, but I feel like we’ve made some good early decisions that will help us get on track.  In my first week I was able to travel for a national meeting of all the state organizations.  I had a total blast!  I met some many interesting people, participated in a lot of activities, and I learned a shit-ton.  I wish I could tell you more, but if I told you what state-wide organization I served as president for, a quick google search would end my anonymity.  It was easier when I was the second in command; there was a lot more anonymity available to the chick behind the scenes. 

You know, now that I think of it, I’ve always been the chick behind the scenes; in my professional life and in my personal life.  I’m that girl, the one you can count on.  I’m used to ghost writing some else’s speech.  If there’s a big fancy meeting, rest assured I’ll be wearing a headset and mic as I give orders to the staff.  I take care of the details, make things happen, I’m dependable, the one always standing in the back of the crowd encouraging people to get closer to the stage.  And even in my personal life, I feel like I fill the role as the supporter, the one you go to when you need advice, the one you call when you need money (which is ironic since I have none), the girl you call when you have to do that big scary thing like get an HIV test or confront a signficant about unfair treatment.  I’ve been that girl for a long, long time. 

I am lucky, however,  that I do have great relationships with a few that are give and take, support-ful and supportive.  These relationships are very precious to me.  There are a handful of people in this world that I feel completely comfortable with.  There are people I want to hug all the time and sit up late into the night talking about years passed.  These people make my life easier, happier, more fulfilled, and I am thankful for them.   

Especially since now, things seem really different.  I’m the girl on stage.  I’m the one sending out press releases, headlining fundraisers, hobnobbing with the big-wigs.  It’s a very surreal place to be, especially if you’re not used to it.  I find that I’m doing ok, but I can get overwhelmed.  When I was in NH a few weeks ago, I spoke with the President of our national group (the REAL big dog of our organization which is made up of nearly 1 million members and has an operating budget of over 5 million a year).  I asked him for some advice, taking over midterm, feeling like a fish out of water, overwhelmed and wanting desperately to do a good job. 

“Surround yourself with people you can trust.  Everything will work itself out from there,” he said.     

Excellent advice, I think.  So I did.  I have fired people on my executive board (although I don’t know if you can fire people from a volunteer position, but whatever) and replaced them with people I trust, people who I can confide in.  And for two weeks, I was flying!  Decisions were made left and right, drafts where filling my inbox for programs we want to launch.  Conference calls followed conference calls on subjects spanning from campaign programs to chapter building to fundraising.  Three hour phone calls of brainstorming, TWO notebooks filled with thoughts, 15 emails a day on DIFFERENT subjects… I’m getting a lot done.  And then yesterday, I hit a wall.  Maybe I hit it two weeks ago and I’m just now starting to feel the affects of it. 

I feel lethargic.  I’m pretty stressed out and I know this, so I’m not completely in the dark about why I’m feel this way.  But things just don’t seem right.  Three nights ago, I had another of these really long conversations with one of my most trusted advisers in the org.  We came up with some pretty groovy plans to raise us some doe (we need it).  After the conversation I felt jazzed.  I had so much energy I was pacing (and talking to myself) trying to figure out who I needed to get in touch with about this particular project.  My roommates gave me a wide birth but I know I was behaving abnormal, even for me.  I made myself dinner and was able to carry on conversation with my roommates that did not involve the project I was working on, but I still felt all jittery and unable to relax.  To rectify this, I indulged in 2 glasses of wine.  I was not drunk (2 glasses, please!), I wouldn’t even say I was buzzed, but I did feel relaxed.  I was able to enjoy the rest of the evening (Chuck and Heroes on NBC if you must know) with my roommates and our friend B. without feeling like a crazy person. 

The next day I felt ok, but kind of blasé about things.  Work was hard that day, I had no motivation.  I thought it was the org. creeping into my mind, but I wasn’t particularly motivated to do anything with that (although I did).  That night I felt tired and stressed.  I made myself dinner again, did some work online, and tried to unwind by watching two episodes of House, I had DVR’d.  I went to bed around 11, a perfectly reasonable time and I slept fine. 

However, I woke up yesterday feeling just totally disinterested in everything.  I’m a morning person by nature, I know we are a rare and twisted breed, and generally speaking I’m pretty agreeable in the morning and I actually do a lot of my personal stuff (pay bills, email family members, write posts for this blog) in the morning before I leave for work.  But yesterday, I don’t know, just couldn’t find the motivation.  As my dad progressed I found myself bored, even though I had A LOT of things I could be working on.  I felt blah.  

Getting home from work is usually this pretty fun time.  My roommates are great and we always great each other warmly and swap stories about our days.  And of course, we have the most adorable dog on the planet, Mushoo (he’s a Shitzu, funny right?) who turns me into a melted pile of goo while I chant in my best baby voice “Who’s a good boy?”  We usually fight over who’s turn it is to walk him before making dinner together and sitting down for a relaxing evening.  I’m lucky to have them and I’m lucky for that time. 

Yesterday, I got home, mopped about, laid down on the couch to watch Jeopardy, and that’s it.  I just laid there.  Both my roommates asked if I was alright, if I was feeling ok, I was.  They asked if I was upset, not really.  Was I depressed, I don’t think so.  Did I need a hug, well I never turn down hugs.  But really, I couldn’t pin point a reason.  Somewhere around 9:15 I feel asleep on the couch and according to my roommate P. I snored through all the good scenes of Pushing Daisies.  I went to bed at 10:00 and feel asleep before I could change the channel to watch South Park.  Again, I woke up at my normal time and again I feel blah.  And I have no idea why. 

Am I too stressed out?  Maybe. 

Am I depressed about my failed relationship?  Yeah, a bit. 

Am I upset about eating the brownie for breakfast instead of something healthy?  Oh yeah. 

Am I disappointed that I have to miss my best friend’s 25th Birthday because of my new position?  Yes, very much so.  She’s very understanding, but I’m the best friend, I’m supposed to be at those things. 

Am I worried about finding a new job?  YES.  This really worries me actually. 

Maybe all these things are just too much for me.  Who knows.  I need to work some of that shit out.  Get my head clear.  And I need to shake off these blahs, I just can’t afford to feel this way. 


Eep!  My blog is barren; like the womb of of the Virgin Mary prior to God’s magic touch (or however that happened), I’ve got nothing in here!

Fact is, my life has been pretty hectic the last couple of weeks.  I can’t go into too much detail for the sake of anonymity, but I can tell you that spending Black Friday with my mother was traumatic enough I think the Hulk himself would have ended his day cowering in a corner.  Speaking of the Hulk, divorce?  Really?  This late in the game?  I mean after 27 years of marriage?  Guess we’re not going to get another season of Hogan Knows Best.   Strangely, I’m ok with that.

Ok in other news, I’m job hunting, and traveling a lot in these next weeks/ months, so bare with me as I get my proverbial shit together.

OHHH, by the way, I got my hair cut at Michael Hickman’s over the weekend, and it is fierce.  Eat your heart out Tyra!

Well, until I have something interesting to say, I’m going to have to leave it at this.  Sorry I’m so boring!  I promise to have something witty to say by the end of this week.  In case anyone didn’t now my BFF (did I just say BFF) JB over at unquietheart.com is having a birthday this Friday, so head over to her place and give her a shout.

The uber cool Kim, over at Kim’s Notebook made a Christmas list. I’m lame and totally lacking in the creativity department so I am totally stealing her idea and making it my own.

Thanks Kim!

EB’s Xmas Wish: i.e. Things Unlikely to Happen in my lifetime.

  • A night out with Tim Gunn. He’d take me to some cute little cafe that’s both trendy and down to earth and ply me with wine as he told me the secret to unlocking my inner beauty. *Sigh * I need a Papa-Gay like Tim.
  • A Lane Bryant shopping spree. When you’re a fatty, excuse me, when you’re a woman of size, it’s important to look good in the clothes you buy. Nothing makes me cringe like seeing a fellow chunk-monk sister walking down the street in tapered jeans and a mock-turtle neck (shudders). So if you want to look good, and you want the clothes to come in a size larger than Emaciated, you gotta go to Lane Bryant.
  • Two week trip to Prague. I’ve never been there and I just kind of want to see it. And I’d like to make out with someone who doesn’t speak English.
  • This totaly adorable necklace for Tiffany’s. Because what woman doesn’t like jewelry from Tiffany & Co?
  • The hot little Nikon SLR D40, cause even though I know nothing about photography, I’d like to pretend with expensive equipment.
  • An adorable retro espresso machine. I drink A LOT of coffee.
  • And like Kim, World Peace