He's an ex for a reason

Are we required to have good reasons for all the decisions we made in our youth? I present the following conversation as an example:

me (referring to online pic of (now bald) ex-boyfriend with his new baby): I used to make out with that guy.
Joe: Why?
me: Dunno, seemed like a good idea at the time.

Also, I was about 15 when this happened. Besides the fact that I probably shouldn't have been making out with an 18-year-old when I was 15, am I expected to have a good answer for "why"?

• Because he was nice to me.
• Because 90210 was a repeat and I was bored.
• Because it was Tuesday.

Actually, those work just as well as the justifications I give for my actions now.

Joe: Why did you walk into that post?
me: Because it was there.
Joe: You didn't see it?
me: My eyes were closed.
Joe: While you're walking down the street?
me: The sun is bright.

Joe: Why did you use paprika instead of cinnamon on the toast?
me: Because it was dark.
Joe: Why didn't you turn the light on?
me: I'm conserving electricity like you're always talking about.

I don't understand why my reasons aren't good enough for him. He's hard to please, my husband...

Men are from Mars

Earlier tonight, I decided to share one of my favorite new shows with Joe since he rarely watches tv. About five minutes into The Mentalist, this happened:

Joe: That guy (referring to Simon Baker) looks fake.
me: Fake?
Joe: Yeah, fake.
me: Yeah, totally fake. As long as by "fake" you mean "completely and totally hot".
Joe: Umm, no.

This is the last time I bother sharing anything with Joe. There's absolutely no respect. Even though the conversation about The Mentalist took place only about an hour after this conversation about the movie Get Smart:

Joe: I think that chick in the movie was hot.
me: Anne Hathaway?
Joe: Mmm, yeah.
me: She's very pretty. I'm a big fan of hers. That's why I dragged you to see her other movie a couple of weeks ago.
Joe: She was in that other movie?
me: Rachel Getting Married? Yeah, she was in it. She was the lead.
Joe: Oh, I didn't notice.

Guess she wasn't hot enough for him in that one.

My tummy is rumbly

What's that weird feeling I'm experiencing? Nope, it's not Hardees-induced indigestion. Could it be... hope? Optimism?

It's been so long since I've felt hopeful, it's hard to recognize but I'm pretty sure that's what it is.

Yes, today, for the first time in a very long while, I feel hopeful. A few things seem to be going my way after everyone decided to rain on my parade all at once.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow - it'll be nice to have something to celebrate!

A brief boring status report

I feel like I should blog, preferably something entertaining, but I'm unfocused and unmotivated.

However, I did manage to go out to dinner with my husband last night. Not a big deal to anyone else on the planet but it's progress for me. My anxiety had reached such levels that I couldn't even go out for a casual meal with Joe without having a panic attack, becoming sick, and just picking at my food while I waited for him to finish and the waiter to bring me a box.

Last night, I had a wave of panic while purusing the menu. Who knew Kaiser rolls could be so trauma-inducing? I closed my eyes, took a breath, and pleaded with myself to relax. Which I did after about 5 seconds that felt more like an hour.

The food came, the $2.75 pints came, and we enjoyed our meal. First time that's happened in months.

Baby steps. I'm still working on it.

Properly Aligned

Regarding my zombie status:

me: think i'm gonna dump my therapist tonight
so that's woohoo good times
SomeMonkey: so you're gonna be on the prowl again?
me: i'm gonna just run amuck for awhile
i don't believe i'm a danger to myself or society at large
SomeMonkey: except for falling asleep at the wheel
me: that's why i just had an alignment on my car
less likely to swerve off the road now
SomeMonkey: i don't think proper alignment can save sleep driving
me: but it can't hurt the situation any!

Don't try this at home, kids!

Zombie

Main Entry: zom·bie
Pronunciation:\ˈzäm-bē\
Function: noun

1. a person who appears to be lifeless, apathetic, or totally lacking in independent judgment
2. a corpse brought to life by witchcraft

3. Or me, recently, on my meds. That first definition is, pardon the pun, dead on.

I feel very muddled, like I'm moving through quicksand and the wheels in my brain are stuck in mud. I've been told I have a dirty mind before but this is ridiculous! By 2pm most days, I'm literally falling asleep at my desk.

So what I'm wondering is if taking my meds at night instead will help me sleep (note: I'm not actually having problems sleeping) or if they'll just keep me from any chance of waking up on time. My boss would define that as an inconvenience bad thing fireable offense. Of course, I don't know if this would be better or worse in his eyes than the whole napping-at-my-desk-with-my-head-propped-up-on-a-water-bottle thing.

On a positive note, my anxiety issues haven't been as bad lately. Mostly because I'm too tired to care. Is that how they're supposed to work? I thought the doctor explained something about seratonin reuptake but what she must've meant was "you'll be in a catatonic state that will render you incapable of giving a damn if you're speaking in front of a crowd or if someone has set your house on fire".

Zombies don't care about that kind of stuff. Because they're dead. It must be really good to be a zombie. Minus the smell.

In your head, in your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie,
Hey, hey, hey.
What's in your head,
In your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie?

PS: How do you spell "fireable"? Because spellcheck hates everything and nobody responded to my tweet. Which makes me afraid it's another word I've made up. Like unprobable. Or snoosh.

Better door than a window

I just returned home from a hockey game, which my team won in a shootout. For those of you who unfamiliar with hockey, this means it was tied, we played OT and remained tied, and then we all just randomly shoot pucks at the net til someone is declared the winner. Or something.

Anyways, we won, so yay! However, this is the third game I've been to and it appears the guy in front of me is going to be at all the same games. Either he bought a full-season plan or the same partial-season plan.

My seat has an awesome view even though it's in the nosebleeds. Or, at least, it should. Behold my view:

Seriously. I can kinda look around him by craning my neck out at an unnatural angle to the right. But every time play comes to our end of the ice, this guy gets excited and stands up. He's like a linebacker. With spiky hair. I have this urge to mess up that stupid spiky hair. He's too old for that crap anyways.

But, yay, my team won. And still I find a reason to be angry. Issues, I clearly have them.

Sundays are for snoozing

I think if they really wanted you to go to church, services would be on Saturday instead of Sunday.

Yesterday morning, I was awake at 6am. This is typical for me on Saturdays. And leads to me being completely exhausted by Saturday night. Sunday mornings, my body desires to sleep in. Way in. Which generally means sleeping through church (as opposed to sleeping at church).

Oops.

These days, you can't even trust popcorn

I should preface this with something witty. Or at least make an attempt. But I don't want to and you can't make me.

me (listening to Crocodile Rock): naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

lalalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

lalalalaaaaaaaaa

lalalalaaaaaa

that loses something in translation

also, i'm feeling tired/lazy, otherwise i'd go change the cd

SomeMonkey: lol

me: i'm not nearly as perky as this

SomeMonkey: you sure you didn't drink at the movie?

me: only diet coke

not sure what Joe sprinkled on the popcorn though

told him to choose

and who REALLY knows what's in those things

SomeMonkey: fairy dust

me: unattended white powder, great idea!

yes, more of that please!

SomeMonkey: i swear, it's not of the "don't check your mail" variety! it's awesome on popcorn!

me: and in brownies?

SomeMonkey: however you want to give it to your politician is great

And yes, our indie theatre does sell alcoholic beverages so Monkey wasn't necessarily asking a silly question. She rarely does.

This is a test

This is only a test.  Had this been an actual post, I'd like to think it would be at least a little more interesting.

Or maybe not.

This concludes our test.  Stay tuned for further instruction.

Beggars

I've finally put my finger on what bothers me about the church we regularly sometimes occasionally attend:

See it? "Make a Pledge" comes before "Welcome". It's like "give us your money and then we'll welcome you". The priorities seem clear.

To be fair, the church and its people have been very warm and welcoming. But the cynical part of me remembers growing up in a small town where everyone at the church was constantly in your business. That part of me is always waiting for the shine to wear off.

In this case, the shine wore off mostly around money issues. We were welcomed first but since then it's been a steady stream of asking for cash. Donations to the capital campaign. Annual pledges. This special event, that special cause, this group, that project.

And of course once you're involved enough to start getting a feel for how the church is spending that money, you start thinking about how you'd do it differently. Or, more accurately, how you think they're doing it wrong.

For example, last week we received something in the mail from the church on 4 out of 6 days. It ranged from newsletters to brochures in envelopes to glossy full-color postcards. When I consider the money they're spending/wasting on printing and postage, it makes me angry and less inspired to donate to them. Also, Joe and I are fairly environmentally friendly folks so the crazy amount of paper (a lot of which isn't recyclable) really makes us nuts.

Anyways, I'm just feeling cranky about it all I think. I do understand that churches need money to run. But while the specifics may vary from church to church, the constant remains that church politics always obscure the positives of the experience for me eventually.

Which is a large reason I'm more inclined to give to other charitable organizations. Like the SPCA and George Costanza Human Fund.

SWYMM: Baby Edtion

Say What You Mean Mondays - actual quotes from actual people. People who often have at least one foot in their mouth.

This week, several quotes on the topic of babies!

"Short term disability is for pregnancy and other illnesses." The obviously pregnant HR lady explaining benefits at my new job.

"This medication is safe if you decide to have a baby for some reason." My doctor, discussing my happy pills.

"You don't exactly seem like the nurturing type." Obnoxious co-worker, to me, when I said I was going to see my sister's new baby.

PS: Must be I have quite the reputation because then this happened:

me: I started a new post while you were gone
about babies!!!

SomeMonkey: and how you eat them?

me: no, don't be silly

i don't eat babies

i kick them

Can't imagine WHY I have this reputation. Totally undeserved.

What's the point?

Like everything else in life, it appears I have my horse before the cart, posting entries before I've even formally introduced myself or the purpose of the blog. And yet, this is a pretty apt representation of who I am.

Everything I do, it needs to have some purpose. I'm not just randomly blogging about any old thing. Well, it actually is about any old thing. I have another blog that's a basic boring diary of my life. Very factual and very vanilla. The purpose of this blog is to allow me the freedom I can't have in the other one to post things that wouldn't be appreciated by my very conservative family and coworkers. Also, some things are none of their business (like religion and anxiety issues and politics). This blog is about having some anonymity. Not that anonymity = license to be a jerk. Just an outlet to be a little more honest and creative.

At the same time, I often find myself jumping into projects head-first before I've really thought them out and organized them thoroughly. This isn't necessarily as contradictory as it sounds. I usually know WHY I'm doing something, I just haven't thought through the HOW. Which is why it will be somewhat about "any old thing".

So, I guess a bit bizarrely, my more anonymous blog is actually the place where I feel I can be the most open and true to who I am. Hence the name I chose, Show My Face.

By way of a less abstract introduction, you can call me Cate. I have a husband, two cats, no babies, and a boring job. As I mentioned in my survey post awhile back, I'm a former Yankee girl now living in the South. I hate ignorance and do my best to ignore hate. My free time is spent mostly reading, writing, running, or meditating (more accurately, breathing - I'm a big fan of breathing).

There, the niceties are out of the way. More babble, incoming!

Like a big girl

Tonight, I did something that most folks wouldn't think twice about. But for me, it was a big deal.

First, a teensy bit of background. The condensed version is that I have a lot of anxiety issues. And by "a lot", I mean therapist and medication levels of anxiety. Most of my issues deal with breaking out of my routine and pushing beyond my comfort/familiarity zone. Basically, your every day agoraphobia with a side of claustrophobia and a sprinkling of general panic.

Anyways, back to tonight.

I went to a hockey game. By myself. Without Joe. And did not have an anxiety attack. Or die. This is a major accomplishment for me.

The arena is very near home and we've been to games many times. In fact, that's how I ended up going tonight - we actually have a mini-plan (about a dozen games spread throughout season) that included this game. Joe had to be out of town and didn't sell the tickets before he left so my option was either to completely waste both tickets or go by myself.

I caught a ride with a friend of Joe's that has seats a few sections over and off I went. Since the game wasn't sold out, I was able to move over with the friend after the first intermission.

Lessons I learned:

1. A large (24 oz?) beer is too much for me. I usually split it with Joe and apparently he drinks most of it.
2. Without someone to hold your beer for you, you can't take off to the ladies' room. Until you finish your beer. Which makes you have to pee even more. 24 oz in one 20 minute hockey period is a lot!
3. I'm not the jinx for our team, Joe is. When we both went to a game a week ago, they lost. This time, they won.
4. Not only did attending the game without Joe NOT kill me, it was actually fun!

Why am I sharing this here? Because, as I said, Joe is out of town. And when I tried to share my accomplishment with him on the phone, well, the satisfaction level was fairly low due to other shiny objects requiring his attention. So I'm proud, even if it's a dumb and small thing, and I felt the need to fully share somewhere. Consider yourself blessed. You're my new BFF.

Sound of silence

The day after. Votes have been counted, speeches given, parties partied. Congratulations President-Elect Obama.

And I woke up to a world that feels somehow empty.

Some magical fairy came overnight and took down all of the signs in our neighborhood for the various winning and losing candidates. The streets are bare.

Also, the house is eerily quiet. The phone has only rung once and it was Joe. No matter how many times I put us on the Do Not Call registry, he still manages to call here.

Still, there's a sense of "now what?". This campaign season built up for two years until it recently became so all-encompassing that it seemed we ate and drank election news. Especially living in a battleground state.

Now that everyone has spoken, the silence is deafening.

*crickets*

PS: Not silent? Me, chatting away while watching the results come in last night. However, at one point I had to go upstairs to discipline an unruly Republicat and Democat. I left my laptop with Joe and came back to find the following in my chat window:

[22:10] KarmaChameleon: *sighs*
[22:11] CallMeCate: this is not Cate
[22:11] CallMeCate: is her man
[22:11] CallMeCate: wazzzup?
[22:12] KarmaChameleon: Hi joe
[22:12] CallMeCate: gobama
[22:12] KarmaChameleon: indeed
[22:12] CallMeCate: ftw

Guess that gives away who Joe voted for. Also, he is no longer allowed to hold my laptop when he's drunk.

An election day update

Yesterday morning, I made a discovery that I was sure would make Joe's day. So I called him on my way to work:

me: I'm going to get your day off to a great start by telling you something that will bring you extreme joy. Ready?
Joe (mumbling because he is not quite awake): Huh? Yeah, sure, ok.
me: You know how the neighbors had two signs up for Team A and they were making you crazy? Well, they both blew down overnight. And one of them is in OUR yard! Which is officially litter so you can throw it away.
Joe: What?
me: You get to trash one of those yard signs! They won't be able to put it back up!
Joe: That's what you called to tell me?
me: You're welcome.

First - I hate that there's no way to slam a cell phone when you disconnect. If someone wants to come out with that feature, I'm first in line to purchase.

Second - How can my husband be so ungrateful? Given all the anger and drama those signs caused, I thought he'd be overjoyed at the idea of throwing one away. His lack of enthusiasm was appalling.

Third - And after all that? I found out that he actually returned the sign to the neighbors' porch. I KNOW!!! And they promptly returned it to their front yard. At least there's only one sign up now instead of two.

PS: It's election day, folks. Make sure you go vote!

Average Joe

Two facts about my husband:

1. He has a very common name (Joe)
2. He has a great and well-deserved sense of self-confidence (depending on the day and my mood, I might instead say he has a big head)
   

Because "Joe" is such a common name, he often finds himself in groups where he is not the only one. In these situations, some sort of differentiating nickname is often used when discussing the various Joes. He has been Tall Joe, Running Joe, Joe from New York, Joe the Programmer, Joe Momma (don't ask).

No, he is NOT Joe the Plumber. Totally different Joe, thankyouverymuch.

This past week, Joe was at a conference for work and there was, of course, another Joe. The chosen differentiation by his colleagues? Refer to the other Joe as "Important Joe".

I asked what that made him. Unimportant Joe? Average Joe? Loser Joe?

"No, just Joe".

Is it unwifely of me to be somewhat tickled that there was an Important Joe that was not him? You know it had to burn a little...

Redundant

Main Entry: re·dun·dant

Pronunciation: \ri-ˈdən-dən(t)\

Function: adjective

not the fact that you have TWO Obama stickers on your Prius so much as the fact that you felt the need to put an Obama sticker on your Prius at all

Seriously, it's assumed. If you drive a Prius and you're voting for McCain, THAT's worthy of a sticker!