Calm The Fuck Down

This is what I need to tell myself on a far more regular basis.

And possibly post more anteater pictures...

Anyone reading this somewhat regularly since... well, I started, knows that I was loosely diagnosed with eczema. I'm still not 100% convinced this is what it is, especially since my symptoms are pretty much all wrong. The only thing that still makes it look and act like eczema is the all over itchy rash that makes me want to claw my skin off.

Anyway, I've discovered that whatever it is is stress induced. I've been to Planned Parenthood a few times this year alone issues that could be tied to whatever skin rash I have. The last time I went she asked me if I felt stressed or worried in my relationship (resounding no) or in life. I said, "well, I'm always stressed," in a nonchalant, this-is-typical-for-me way. Because it's true. There's always fucking something.

This time I've got it pared down: started a new job (3 month probationary period, looking at it like an extended interview, trying to be the best); sometimes I feel totally overwhelmed in my new job because I'm surrounded by some really smart people who know what they're doing and who are giving me very real responsibilities; some jackwad ran into my car and caused me $800 worth of repairs that my full coverage insurance won't cover; and the cherry on top is some other jackwad stuck a business card on my car window which slipped into the door frame as I rolled the window down because I didn't notice until it was there until it was too late. Boom, stress rash. And then I freak the fuck out and try to figure out if it is in fact eczema by looking at photos and descriptions online, which just makes me itch more.

But I honestly shouldn't be that stressed, definitely not enough to cause a rash to break out on my arms and legs. I did just get back from a very lovely vacation; I'm very happy in my job and mostly unworried about the probationary period because they seem to like me a bunch and the fact that they are giving me big responsibilities is telling; even though I sometimes feel overwhelmed the very next day I feel like I have a handle on things and that I'm just as smart as my coworkers; I can afford my car repairs (I'm just mad that I have them); taking on a very small bit of debt when I have a steady income shouldn't freak me out.

HA!

The vast, vast majority of my worry and stress stems from money (thanks, mom and dad). I know what makes me happy and I've pretty much got everything I need and want: my cat who sometimes loves me, a job that fulfills me, a boyfriend who adores me, an apartment I'm going to be sad to leave, a roommate I'm friends with, an easy 10 minute walking commute, a neighborhood and city I belong in, and dozens of opportunities every week to satisfy my little desires. But I just wrapped up debt and started to save up for things I want, rather than just the things I need, before being unemployed for a brief period, which added to a vacation did give me back some credit card debt, which I had been happy to be rid of. Add to that my new car repairs and the car insurance I still haven't finished paying off (all thanks to timing) and I've got myself some saving to do. Plus, there are the things I've wanted for a long time that I would much rather not postpone anymore: a new bed, my own apartment, and (maybe) an iPhone. As long as I wait until mid-November and know I'm secure in my position I think it'd be OK to take on a little debt (famous last words, right?). Fortunately, I make enough to save that money in a few months as long as I stick to the frugal lifestyle I adopted in college and never really grew out of. By the new year I should be debt free again and able to start saving for my next vacation, build up a security savings for when the next something happens (because it always does), and start paying down my car faster.

And in the meantime, tell myself to just calm the fuck down. I got this. I really do.

Letting Go of Tradition

An example of a tradition that's gone through a lot of change...

Easily one of the biggest hardships I felt in the aftermath of my parent's divorce was the loss of tradition. They tried to keep it the same, but because we now had two houses to go to for every holiday and birthday the traditions got split up between parents: one did brunch while the other took care of dinner, we still got stockings at Christmas and baskets at Easter and one parent did a birthday dinner while the other maybe did a party the weekend before. It worked for a while, but when we got older and lives got more complicated the traditions started dropping. It was hard on me and I felt like I was the only one who cared. Truth be told I shouldn't have cared because I was too old for most of that anyway, but so much had changed during the previous years that I just wanted the traditions to feel normal.

But I'm getting better in my old age. And honestly I don't know what to attribute that to... am I really maturing? Do I just not care anymore? Has there been so much change that I've given up? A combination? Maybe. But I think it has a lot more to do with my relationships with my family members than anything. For a while I was working a tourist job and it was easy enough to stay in San Diego and work, allowing my coworkers to spend time with their families and earning some extra money I was desperate for... and I did feel a little like it might just be easier on everyone if I just didn't go for the holidays, which were always stressful enough on their own, and I couldn't seem to keep my mouth shut around certain people or situations. Now that everyone's a little bit older and has gone through their own personal ordeals they're letting me be myself as much as I'm letting them do the same and we're all getting through the holidays a bit easier. And at least we still have the same food traditions: Easter just wouldn't be the same without the lamb cake or buttercreams, just like we can't have Christmas without fudge and start every holiday with "holiday food" (most people call it eggs benedict). 

I have, however, noticed that it's been a lot easier for me the last year or so because I really like who my sister is dating and my other sister and mom haven't had anyone serious enough to make a big deal of. And since Thanksgiving I've had someone I'm excited to bring home, someone they seem to actually love, someone that makes me visibly happy. And I don't really know why but it makes me more excited for holidays because I'm bringing someone who's so accepted by my family. It's exciting in a way I haven't felt towards the holidays in over a decade. It's always wonderful to spend time with them, but knowing that they not only accept but like and welcome someone who's so important to me makes me the happiest of campers around the holidays. 

Now, if only I could get the cat to get along with the dogs...

Two Thousand Eleven

After the disappointment that was 2010 I decided 2011 was going to be better. It so fucking was.

First, it was a year overwhelmingly full of love. I fell in love with San Diego all over again, discovered a love for running (which I'm working on rekindling as the year closes), and fell ridiculously crazy in love with a wonderful friend who I absolutely cannot wait to spend the next year with. I love my neighborhood, my brat of a cat, my apartment with the bars on the windows, and my new car. I loved seeing my friends move on in adulthood and succeed, paying off the debt I'd carried around since graduation (one of my favorite accomplishments), and seeing my sister get serious with someone who's great for her.

I started off the year by participating in a flash mob. I enjoyed it a ton, even though my roommate got really sick the days leading up to it and wasn't able to do it with me and now that flash mobs are so last year, I can at least say I participated in one. For silliness.

Easily my biggest accomplishment for 2011 was finishing 3 half marathons, 2 5Ks and a 4 mile race for a total of 49.3 racing miles and who knows how many training miles. I bought two new pairs of running shoes, several pairs of dry wicking socks, a running jacket, shorts and an iPod and send a few hundred dollars on entry fees and transportation. I have a small stack of bibs, 3 finisher medals (one of which glows in the dark!), a bunch of safety pins and more technical t-shirts than I know what to do with. It's a good feeling, and when I continue in 2012 I'm gonna try to beat that 2 hour mark.

Probably my second biggest accomplishment for 2011 was not moving. That's right, I had the same address for a full year, something which seriously doesn't happen very often for me. One of my goals for 2012 (a ridiculously easy goal, at that) is to make this address the one I live in the longest in San Diego. I have absolutely no intentions of moving, and unless my roommate decides to buy a place she doesn't either. North Park certainly feels a lot more like home now, and I've learned to appreciate what it offers.

I also was able to find a job in my area, one in which I'm using my degree (and, for the most part, need it) and making a higher rate than I ever have, which, now that there's a car payment, still seems like I'm just getting by. My commute is short, my hours are good, my coworkers are a lot of fun to be around and my boss can be pretty generous when he wants to be. It may not be my dream job, and one goal for 2012 will be to find my dream job, but it's good for right now, and it's helping me learn a lot that's going to help me in the future.

This year was not without it's down moments, however. In a coincidental yet poetic turn of events, the day before my birthday, which just so happened to be a day before the 1 year anniversary of my dad officially cutting me out of his life, I went to his house and gathered the last of my belongings there. It was civil and very quick and I'm glad to have gotten it over with, but it has made the last few months extra full of anger and resentment. Every time I see an older woman with red hair I feel incredible hatred towards these perfect strangers. It's becoming difficult to understand how such hatred can exist in the same place as such incredible love.

It was also not a good year for electronics. My camera battery is 99% dead, and the minute or so that it holds a charge really isn't long enough to take and download even one picture. Also unfortunately, I don't think they make those camera batteries anymore (at 4 years old it might as well be ancient) so it looks like I might have to buy a new one. Lucky for me, however, I have my own personal photographer (ok, he's not my own personal photographer) who is usually willing to take my pictures for me, so buying a camera isn't an immediate need. My computer also took a turn for the worse- a laptop without a working screen isn't good for much. The weird thing is after all the shit I put that machine through it still works perfectly and is way faster than the one I've been borrowing for the last few months, except for the screen. A new MacBook Pro is very, very high on my list of things to buy once I pay taxes. Finally, though this isn't really an electronic, my trusty Hyundai Accent died, forcing me to buy a new car.

Other events this year included two cousin's weddings, a trip to Disneyland, discovering goodies at my farmer's market, the rapture, the return of 90s TV shows, learning to drive stick shift, paragliding, getting my 6th piercing, not cutting my hair (it's super long!), a power outage, and getting more fish. It's been a very full year, and I'm proud to say I achieved the goals I set for myself at the beginning. I'm also happy to be looking forward to 2012, taking steps to accomplish my new goals, and sitting with my boyfriend and a bucket of popcorn as we watch people flip out over the Mayan calendar prediction.

I Was In Love With The Place

I don't hate the number 4 so much now.

Before I lived in my studio in Banker's Hill, San Diego didn't feel much like my city. I moved all the time, changing zip codes as if it was nothing. I never felt at home. Community, and living alone for the first time in my life, changed that. In that quirky, old and crooked apartment I fell in love with San Diego.

Living two blocks from Balboa Park, an easy stroll from Hillcrest and an $8 cab ride from downtown connected me to the city. There was so much to do and experience, always people around, always someone doing what you're doing which makes a person living alone feel not so alone. For once, since moving out of our home the summer before my senior year of high school after my parent's divorce, I felt like I belonged. That space was mine to do with as I pleased, to cook what and when I wanted, to have whoever I desired over, to clean as often and as obsessively as I needed. My cat was no longer harassed, I no longer worried about who would be up when I came home, and sharing evenings with my neighbors made me happy to be social again.

But I also fell out of love in that apartment. With this newfound love for my city, and especially for my neighborhood and my job, my heart started leaking the love I had for my relationship. That love was suddenly no longer as important. My cat, my life, my city and my passion were all so much more deserving of love so I let the other one go. Looking back I mourn the temporary nature of my job and that I had to leave that apartment and that neighborhood, but I don't mourn the loss of my relationship.

Finally, that apartment was where the seeds of a future love were laid. Weeks, possibly days, before I packed up and left I was falling asleep when the person whose arms were comfortably wrapped around me whispered "I love you." I wasn't meant to hear those words so I pretended to be asleep. Those words weren't exactly real at the time, but they did mean there was more than just companionship. I wasn't ready to be in love with another person then, and because of that the following months were a roller coaster of disappointments. Now those seeds that were planted just before I left that place have sprouted and they feel like they're in full bloom.

Maybe it's all in my mind, just like the song:

I was in love with the place in my mind, in my mind

I made a lot of mistakes in my mind, in my mind

It's hard to think of certain things as mistakes though. I don't like that I don't live in Banker's Hill, but I can't afford it; I don't like that I'm not in love, but I wasn't ready when it was offered. In a perfect world I'll live in my old neighborhood again and the one I want will be nearby, and I'll just be the happiest girl in San Diego. Maybe it's time for me to make more of an effort at getting what I want.

Pay My Bills!

Though it feels really good to see my credit card statement below $3k, my savings over $1k, enough in my checking account to cover rent and another paycheck on the way, I do sometimes wish I wasn't spending my nights working a second job. Sometimes I wish I had parents giving me money every month to live. Sometimes I wish I had a boyfriend who paid my rent.

I've made choices the last few years that got me where I am now. If I moved back in with one of my parents when I graduated college I could have lived rent free until I found a job and built up savings. Or if I moved in with The Ex (not that he would have agreed...) when I was laid off I could have lived cheaply. Or if I found a full time job at a desk somewhere I could have a consistent paycheck and probably have my card paid off by now.

I chose to stay in San Diego when I graduated. I chose to live alone. I chose to work at a non-profit, outside, doing something I love. But when I'm working nights driving students to PB or downtown, when they're all dressed up and smelling nice, to go have fun is kind of depressing. I've never really had the cute clothes, nice perfume, or sexy shoes like other girls have, and rarely did I ever have the money to go out drinking and dancing. Oh, there was a time when I was working a lot at shuttles and went out and bought fancy foods, but that was a short time that seems so far away now. And it's not that I really care about dressing up and going out every week, because I don't. I just want to not count every dollar I spend on the rare night I can go out. I knew when I graduated that I wouldn't be making much money, and now I know it's more important to my overall happiness that I enjoy what I do for a living rather than be able to buy nice things. I just hate the worry and the penny pinching.

Since Blogger decided about an hour into me having ads that I abused the privilege (before the ads were even up... thanks Google) I'm not making any money from this blog. So, I am accepting cash donations to My Personal Fund. Money will go towards paying rent for myself and the kitty, providing us both with sustenance, fueling my car so I can continue making my own money, and maybe occasionally buying a pair of jeans (I have 2 that fit) or a t-shirt that hasn't been through the wash ten dozen times. Leave me a comment and I'll direct you to my bank account. Thanks!

So There's This Boy...

He's sweet, respectful, cute, adores me, likes my cat, likes my friends and is liked in return. The catch? He doesn't live in San Diego.

What's a girl to do with a potentially great, yet long distance, boyfriend? This lady is really, really not a fan of those sorts of relationships, especially since I'm pretty darn broke and whoring myself out for any available shift, which means being too afraid to leave the San Diego area for longer than a day. I've also tried long distance before and let's just say it wasn't the best year I've ever had.

I like this boy. But is it worth starting a relationship knowing the only way we'd see each other more than once every month (or two) is if he spends the time, money and effort coming to San Diego when I can't promise even one work-free day to spend with him? I can't justify getting into a relationship that one-sided, and I'm in no place to make any promises or plans now, especially with the busy season right around the corner.

If I were more romantic and prone to give in to my heart's every desire we'd already be all official and shit. But (obviously) I'm not all that romantic. I'm a realist, a cynic and a severe skeptic. Sure we might work well together and might be very happy but the long distance thing is a blinking stop sign I can't ignore.

When in doubt, post pictures of animals.

That, and it's been just over 6 months since the end of my last (very serious) relationship... I'm not so sure I'm ready for a new one. Especially around Valentine's Day. This time I want to be single. Hellooo single ladies, it's time for chocolate and champagne!

Goodbye, Banker's Hill.

My studio apartment, number 4.

Today I'm officially no longer a Community resident. It was a little depressing doing my final walk-through, cleaning and turning in my keys. That apartment was mine. All mine. My first own apartment. The first place I've ever lived that I could do whatever I wanted with and not worry about someone else's opinion. I could walk around naked, come and go at any hour, bring anyone home at any time, keep anything in the fridge, know that the cleaning I did was because of my messes, and watch Planet Earth every night without feeling like a super nerd.

I did a lot of growing up in that apartment. I became single for the first time in 7 years. I made friends with (...and made out with) my neighbors. I stayed in one place for a year, a whole lease. I bought curtains and dishes and I refinished the counter. I had a window planter for herbs and a fish tank. The mail coming in was all for me (except sometimes it was for my neighbor in #14) and I was there long enough for the non-profits I used to donate money to find me. I got jury duty and rode the old-fashioned lime green Community bike downtown. I had a running path in Balboa Park, waved to the same bums every time and could walk to at least 2 Starbucks, 2 damn fine pizza places, and the Zoo. I escaped arguably the most unhealthy living situation and gave Chloe a space free of other cats (except for the one time I tried introducing her to my neighbor's cat), where she wouldn't be forced to live under my bed. I lived through unemployment and found strength deep enough to end my relationship. I had sleepovers with friends and family and broke my post-breakup dry spell. I loved that apartment like it was a best friend.

Fortunately I'm really liking my new apartment. It helps a lot that my cat is so happy with all the new space and carpet (she never did learn to run on hardwood with her claws retracted) and I have a roommate I already liked and got along with. I was slightly worried that after a year of living alone I would feel less adult by moving in with a roommate but he's so responsible (and clean!) that this is a completely different experience from what I had in the past. It's OK that I'm not in my favorite part of San Diego anymore; I can always go back. And sometimes it's just worth it to leave, even if it will be terribly missed.

In Which People Tend to Resemble Their Pets

This is not news.

Studies, stories, and certain stereotypes surround the concept of inter-species look-a-likes. Consensus has long been that married couples begin to look alike, and Rachel Toor combined both concepts by pointing out how her pets resembled her husbands and lovers in The Pig and I, cleverly capitalizing on the theory.

A couple of days ago one of my clearance fish died and the survivor was listless. After being frustrated with PetsMart for telling me plants would be in Wednesday... no, Tuesday... no, Monday, and not having plants for three weeks I bought plants and a few small fish (elsewhere) to keep my clearance fish company. As soon as I got the new fish in there he started swimming around them, but curiously didn't join their mini school. It was enough company just to know they were in the tank with him, and he stayed nearby, keeping a tiny distance. Most of the time I know that my friends are nearby and I can see them any time I want to, and contentedly live alone the rest of the time. However, this weekend it seems most of my friends are gone: off on spring break, on a camping trip, or generally too busy on weekends to get together. I feel kind of like my clearance fish felt before he got companions.*

No, we just don't like him.

Chloe, on the other hand, is both very much like me and very much not. Her tolerance for company is painfully limited; she prefers solitude, but when she wants attention she's rather enjoyable. You don't go to her, she comes to you. Of course, sometimes she's plain crazy and will attack your ankle simply for walking past her. Lucky she's cute enough to get away with almost anything, except standing in the potted plants, which happens to be her new favorite flavor or mischief.

Sure, she's cute now.

*EDIT: Clearance fish #2 died Sunday. Figures.