I suffer from paranoia, claustrophobia, and sociophobia (and it looks like half of agoraphobia). However, I would call the first two “acute” because they only exist due to the last: my aversion to people. I suppose they’re all “acute” because I can get by. I always feel like people are looking at me, and it occasionally prevents me from going places. With the claustrophobia, it’s not so much that I’m afraid to be in small places as I’m afraid of places made small by people. Is there a fear of crowds? (My sociophobia is different from my distaste for morons, just so you know.)

There are several who don’t believe me, and a general observer probably wouldn’t either, but outside sources don’t have access to my mind. (That is, incidentally, why I dislike psychiatrists so much.) (Originally, I began that insert with the word “which” but I changed it to “that” because while writing in Word [because there’s little Internet at the franch], it was underlined in green. And we all know what that means.) (Is anyone else amused that my inserts have taken up more space in this paragraph than actual content?) I can’t count how many times I’ve been told I’m a people person. After the rest of this entry, you may be more inclined to believe that I don’t know myself very well.

I started a new job Monday. I take public transportation to get there. Monday and Tuesday were horrible. I got home and went straight to bed both nights. Wednesday got a little better, and I opted to go to church because I thought I could make it. Thursday and Friday were infinitely better. However, that change may have been chemical as I decided to start taking B12 again on Wednesday morning.

I’m like a mental patient. I feel better, so I stop taking it. I know better than that – I know that if I stop taking it, I stop being better. So, this is an encouragement for everyone to take care of their bodies. You are what you eat - you aren’t what you don’t. It’s not always mind over matter (as with my phobias), if you don’t take care of your body, it won’t work for you.

I don’t know how to behave in a professional setting. I mean, there’s intuition, but I don’t know about rules of conduct for superiors, etc. I’ve been working at a corporately owned coffee shop for a year and a half (superiors??)! And before that, I worked from home! I tend to speak in a normal tone, walk into anyone’s office, and ask a lot of questions. It works for me. However, there are two other fairly new women in the office who may find my behavior a little scandalous – they’re soft spoken, they whisper to me a lot when I’ve done something unorthodox, and I see they’re trying to make me more appropriate. (This is the part where you scoff and tell me I’m a people person.) One incident that particularly amused me: I just finished delivering mail and one of the ladies whisper-asks me, “Did you find out where he likes his mail put?” and I thought maybe she was going to tell me. When I said no and she looked at me with disappointment, I continued, “I’ve just been handing it to him,” and she looked at me like I’d offended royalty. It made me giggle in my head, like… like I was in The Devil Wears Prada and I had to go through some ritual just to avoid touching someone who keeps kosher. (Wait, what’s the religion where priests can’t touch infidels?)

Also, these women don’t know that I’m the daughter of someone who is actually in the office a lot. I look forward to when that clicks.

Jenni reassured me that moving from a mindless-er, um, coffee shop to a desk job is quite an adjustment. It is. However, I find myself doing some of the same things, and I find that some things are true and do not change. Namely, men can’t load the dishwasher. Whether they are your family or ones you work with, they just need help. (If you’re a man who can load the dishwasher, congratulations to you. Whatever.) I seem to be stocking the “condiment bar” a lot. I understand it’s my job, and I don’t have a problem with it, but I’m fairly certain that if I didn’t, men would stand in the kitchen and not know what to do without a stir stick. (Joking, but only a little.) I was at a wedding shower on Saturday where various wives were talking about their husbands cooking. A seasoned woman piped up with, “Dinner is a mystery to my husband. As far as he’s concerned, it just appears.”

That’s fine. I can’t carry heavy things. I must be sexist. In fact, I’m pretty sure I am.

I’m pretty sure I’m racist, a bigot, and politically incorrect, too. Let’s add radical to the list.

Friday, I became aware that it was my duty to order lunch for people. Mostly this came about when people started walking by my desk and asking, “What’s for lunch?” Well I don’t know, probably whatever you brought. But it turned out well, and I suppose it’ll help me get to know the area better.

Did you know that you can actually hire a service that will come to your office, pick up a large stack of paper, and go copy it for you? Yeah, that’s ridiculous. And after my two years going to the PO every day, why didn’t I know how easy and useful postage machines are? I wouldn’t have had to talk to the creepy PO guys every day!

When I get on public transportation in the morning, it’s never very full, but by the time we get closer to the city, there are people standing. I’ve wondered if I should get up and let someone else have my seat. Friday, I came home pretty late due to an event I’ll talk about later, but it was the one time I was so wired that I wanted to stand up on the ride. But, nobody would let me. Of course, that may have had something to do with the homeless man who followed me onto the train. Don’t tell my mother. She asked me to call her that night to let her know I’d gotten home safely, and I forgot. When she called me close to midnight, I didn’t mention the fan. I dunno, I feel camaraderie with people on the train – like 9/11. Like, if anyone tried funny business on the train, he’d be dogpiled. Maybe I’m wrong.

I went to the farm for one measly day this weekend. I had to go, though. Not only was my laundry piled up, but I had such a long week and I needed to get some rest. The farm has become like a weekend house for me. (I think I’m phasing out “franch.”) Well… boy am I glad I went because as I pulled up the long drive, I looked for Henry (as I always do), and I had a little heart attack as I saw something foreign in the pen.

Kip.

As I was in the drive, I called mom and probably yelled, “You didn’t tell me Hilde had the baby!” She didn’t know. I discovered baby Kip! What’s funny is that we had just resigned to the fact that Hilde certainly wasn’t pregnant. She was sold as “pregnant,” but never got as big as Buffy and Henry’s been around since Labor Day, so… But now Hilde is smug with her own baby. We don’t even know the sex because she’s basically said, “Forget you guys, I have my own baby now.”

So, this was weeks ago, but worth mentioning anyway. I don’t think I’ve told this story yet, but stop me if I have.

A couple of weeks ago, I determined to go out to a nameless coffee shop and sit between two of the neatest business owners/creators/genius’ probably nearly almost ever. (plug:nectar) As I was sitting, listening to a little borrowed Ray (forgive me for not already owning it), this British guy comes out of nowhere and starts talking about music.

Apparently he’d been doing it all night, but this was the first time I’d seen him.

In the midst of his talking, he looks at my book (The Host by Stephenie Meyer) and comments something to the effect of, “I can’t stand those books!” (By those, he obviously meant the series that has nothing to do with the book I’m still reading.) “She’s so negative about women! Makes them out to be good for nothing but having babies and depending on men!” Oh? Now, the company I was keeping has known me a while, and while I’m staring at this British guy as he babbles about nonsense, they’re laughing a bit. (Well, one is laughing a lot.) The British guy probably thought they were laughing in agreement with what he thought was clearly ridiculous. “All this Bella girl does is have this guy’s kid. Doesn’t even go to college!” When he’s done with his feminist spiel, he says, “Am I right?”

To which I replied, “NO!”

Almost that loudly, too.

After a moment of stunned silence on his part, I had to explain to him that he had just bashed everything I wanted for myself. Then, he went on to explain how his father is a loser and his mother had to scrape to take care of him and his brother. My company gallantly defended the chivalrous nature of gentlemen (and also how interesting it was that he chose to bring this up to probably the only conservative woman he’s ever met).

Um, the end.

One lesson I specifically remember my mom teaching me is that, when you type, you’re to leave two spaces between the concluding punctuation and the beginning of the next sentence. I’ve applied this to text messages. However, yesterday I noticed that if I only leave one space, my phone will automatically make that first letter a capital. My life is so much easier now.

Last week, when I went to the franch, the kittens were not as eager to see me as they were before. It was like two weeks is too long to remember me. They were skittish, and I was afraid my mom was right: it’s time to put them in the barn. But as the weekend wore on, they warmed up quickly.

And I have the claw marks to prove it.

Mom puts them in the barn during the day now, but I’m thankful to the vet who will not vaccinate them for rabies until they’re 3 months or fix them until the 4th. They’re still babies! (Oh yeah, and both girls.)

…babies who’ve grown out of their blue eyes acquired the reflective green ones. KC kept blue eyes. He was a good cat. He also only drank bottled water.

I finally conceded and got myself a new pair of glasses this week. I figured since I’ll be working in an office every day now, I should get another pair just in case. Choosing the glasses wasn’t as much fun as I’d remembered. But interestingly, my prescription this time around is slightly better than when I was 16. I don’t know what that’s about. I guess eye glasses aren’t an exact science. Nevertheless, I don’t have them in yet. But I like them enough.

To wear them when I read.

I made some oatmeal cookies. Did I talk about how I made these, yet? I like them better than chocolate chip. In fact, oatmeal is my favorite cookie. I don’t really care for oatmeal, and after my bout with the GF berry stellas, the mere thought of oatmeal makes me gag. However! These were the first oatmeal cookies made since the introduction of Celiac Disease into my life. They were successful the first try and I love them.

I’ve also taken to putting sprinkles in everything. Who doesn’t like sprinkles? I put them in some of those (GF) Cheerio/peanut butter/M&M/marshmallow square things tonight. What do you call those things? They’re not Rice Krispy Treats, and a little more complicated than Cheerio Treats. Oh well.

Went to see the King Tut exhibit at the DMA on Thursday. It’s good, much better than Hatshepsut. But, go in the Spring when everyone who wants to see it has already been. My favorites were the “animal print” chairs and the canopic jars.

I’m so excited about going to the Canton market again! In addition to the introduction (to me) of amethyst depression glass…

…I also learned you can buy vintage Tupperware!

1) Do I like the amethyst better than the pink? I think I probably do. What is the likelihood of finding a whole set? Or even making a whole set… eventually? I need to settle on a color. Even the jade is nice. But considering purple is my favorite color, and pink is pretty, well, girly and froufrou and entices girls to screech, “Ahh, pink! I love this!” I’m leaning towards not pink.

Oh, and my mom can’t say the word “amethyst”. She says AM ES THIST. What in the world.

2) Grandma uses those canisters for flour, sugar, and stuff, but hers are yellow. This Tupperware dealer had dark blue! A whole set! I’m crazed. If they’re not available next time, I’ll be disappointed.

Speaking of words mispronounced, I learned a new way to say “compromising.” COM. PROMISING. What? That’s right, some guy I work with was talking about how we don’t have any “com promising” standards. I said, “Excuse me, that word is compromising.”

It reminded me of explaining my vocabulary to my Hawaiian coworkers.

Speaking of coworkers and jobs and customers, I’m used to being told I look like someone else. At both of the previous stores I’ve worked at, people would tell me daily, “You look just like Audrey Hepburn!” or whoever else they pictured that day. But I’ve been working at this store for about three months or so and no one has said anything. The closest I’ve come was yesterday when one of my coworkers offhandedly said, “Blah blah blah, you look like that girl from Pirates of the Caribbean.”

Speaking of old customers, people have been getting around lately. This guy from my first store who drives an M6 showed up a couple of weeks ago. Then, a couple of days ago, I’m ringing this woman up and she says, “Didn’t you used to work at (insert name here)?” How did you know that? “I just remember you.” ie. She worked at the nail salon around the corner. ie. Asian women have a frightening attraction to me.

Speaking of Asian women, my last day at this nameless coffee house, I’m going to get a manicure to celebrate the lift of the ban on nail painting! If anyone wants to come, you’re welcome. It’ll be a sight to see. Mostly because I don’t enjoy manicures… But a year and a half of scalding, nasty, milky water seeping into my nail bed needs to be filed away.

There are 4 months worth of Living magazines sitting on my floor that I haven’t looked at. All those ideas just sitting there wasting. I’ve been busy. I also haven’t put my trash out by the curb for 3 weeks. I keep forgetting, and I don’t generate enough trash for it to matter much.

Wow, I could probably waste my whole life away listening through songs iTunes Genius has recommended me.

Buy Ron Paul shirts for your friends for Christmas so that more people know who he is. Maybe do it again next year, too, for when Obama shows his true colors and liberals are looking for someone who can fix the mess (that Obama won’t be solely responsible for, but probably knows nothing about).

How stupid are we?

ps. And I just realized you can buy dark blue vintage Tupperware on eBay much cheaper than from the Tupperware man. Oh well, I’m still excited about it.

Optimistic, Radiohead (or Hanson, if you prefer)

I’ve spent my whole life waiting.

…for whatever I think is going to happen.

Tonight on the way home from church, I stopped at a coffee shop and got a solo short, no whip, half inch of room Signature Hot Chocolate, and ran into a good friend. I sat down for a minute and he told me that he was just reading one of his friend’s blogs who wrote about the neon sign that everyone has above their head. You know, what your presence is saying to the world.

Mine is, “Is it over yet?” or, “Are we done yet?”

Over the years, this has meant a lot of different things. Recently it’s been meaning 1) “Am I done with this ridiculous job yet?” 2) “Isn’t this election over yet?” and 3) “Hasn’t the economy crashed so I can move to the country yet?”

This is probably not a good way to live my life, but I’ve never lived in the moment. Oh well.

grandma: “Do you remember the calves? We had sheep, too, but that was before you were born. April only had them one at a time. Can you still call them sheep then? You can’t call it a shep… Sheep doesn’t sound right.”

I went to Kabab for lunch! I haven’t been since Uncle Keith’s meeting. I walked in and this strange man tried to seat me. I gave him a funny look, then walked to my usual seat. Then I saw the owner’s son and asked about him, and he said this guy has been around a while. I guess I just haven’t seen him.

That was kind of a boring story, huh?

But gasp! I ate there by myself, and read my book. :)

I’ve been watching a new Dugger Family special on TLC tonight. That family’s so neat. Going on 18 kids, I believe.

6 Degrees of Separation from the Dugger’s: me, my dad, Edwin Viera, Meredith Viera, The Duggers!

This weekend (among other things I did) I fulfilled life-long dream #2 (#1 being the 4th of July thing) of going to a haunted house! I’ve never been because my lame friends won’t go with me. (That’s right, lame, like an old horse.) But James did, and it was awesome!

Not so much scary, but fun. I think I want to be in one next year. I wonder how I can pull that off.

(Okay, so I went one other time at FC, but that doesn’t count because FC is alternate reality.)

Wii Music! Neat!

ps. I’m sorry, Jenny. I, uh, meant to call you. But I, uh, drowned my phone. That last part is true.

Today, I watched a video of a keynote speaker as he presented on passion (and personal branding, but that doesn’t have anything to do with this). I’m not going to link it because there was profanity in it that I don’t think is cool. (Kids, profanity is not cool. It’s stupid and it makes you look stupid.)

This guy said stop doing what doesn’t make you happy, because you can waste just as much money doing what makes you happy.

This in itself is not the revelation, because I’ve been saying this basically my whole life. Every human does at some point - it’s nature to want what you want. But my mom says, “Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to.”

No you don’t.

You only have to if you’re a sellout.

Revelation: I’m a sellout.

I’m tired of working a stupid job that makes me miserable. (I know! Only you can determine how you feel. Whatever.) I want to quilt. I want to paint. I’m good at it.

This keynote speaker said (paraphrase), “We’re starting businesses! We’re not partying!” I.E. word hard. This is a basic principle; I know this, my parents taught me this, even if they think I squandered the lesson.

Another revelation: It’s not news to me that school is not important, but it occurred to me: No one I know is working in the field they went to school for.

(Of course, this fell apart when I though of Jenny, so don’t nitpick.)

(Can I use two colons in one sentence?)

Conclusion: I’m giving up sleep.

ps. This post brought to you by the phenomenon known as Midnight Genius.

“I’m sorry,” I replied miserably to a customer, “I’m reading a new book and it’s affecting my mood.”

I finished said book late this morning. It’s pretty much all I can think about, and now I’m onto the next one in the series. But, not before forcing myself to wait three hours while I knotted some more strings on a quilt I’m going to owe Sharon this weekend.

In fact, I didn’t dog-ear anything until I paused at page 216 to get icecream for dinner (and write this blog).

I should mention, one of my crabs died and I discovered it today. It was my new female. I’m going to attribute it to PPS (post purchase shock… or syndrome?) which is what all the crab-heads talk about. It’s too bad. I hadn’t given her a name yet, but she was nice and blue.

I kind of think I’m going to be an unpleasant person to be around for a year or so after I finish these books. Maybe that’s why I stopped reading. And going to movies.

Ben Folds says, “Won’t you let me walk away sometimes?”

I don’t live in a constant state of reality, so when I have a moment of clarity, I often think, “This is my life? How did I get here?”

I went to the franch (see: farm) the (long for me) weekend of my Uncle Keith’s meeting at church. A “neighbor” had been wanting to get her horses exercised, so I decided to ride. Now… I haven’t ridden in four years or more. And, Buddy hadn’t been ridden in eight months or more. And, I’m not exactly a Western rider. But hey, anything to get on a horse.

In fact, Cowboy Cory said, “I could tell you rode English from the second you got on. You were sittin pretty straight.”

See, the first saddle is what I was using. The second is what I’m used to. Granted, while you’re riding English, your stirrups aren’t up that high (that’s for storage), but I just don’t know what to do with my dangling useless feet in those big, clunky western stirrups! And all I’ll say about reigning is: horses seem to respond much better to English reins than Western.

I’m not saying one way is better than the other, I’m just saying I’m better at one way and both Buddy and I were very confused. After about an hour, he leaned against the round pin and I opted to get off and take him in, rather than have him crush my leg.

Anyway, I’m looking forward to this weekend, when I can do it again.

Speaking of Uncle Keith, his meeting was wonderful. Words cannot express. Well, here’s some: Even though I had to get up every morning at 4:30 and I did not get a nap, I was still there every night. I even went to another meeting this weekend and was mostly disgruntled, and I think it’s Keith’s fault. That’s probably not appropriate to say. No, I know it’s not his fault. The rest is probably not appropriate either.

I know, only I can decide how I feel.

Dad has determined that I need to keep gas in my car and keep a gas can full with me. I’ve determined I need my own girl-friendly gas can because the ones in the garage have too many rules, and they’re gross. Can you buy a gas can at Lowe’s?

I roasted some pumpkin seeds, and burned them, so I won’t show pictures. I remember these being delicious, though. My hermit crabs seemed to enjoy them.

Speaking of Uncle Keith, Grandma got her neighbor to host an impromptu photo shoot over the weekend. Here’s some lovely highlights: (link to Family 2008 set)

I chose these not because they’re “portrait”, but because they’re real and interesting. I’d be okay if I never saw another portrait as long as I lived. Thanks, Alex Garza for being awesome (no, he was not the photographer here).

Started reading Twilight on Friday. I’m half way done. I’ve decided that Stephanie Meyer is not a great writer. In fact, she’s a fairly mundane writer. However, that never stopped J.K. Rowling, either. Meyer’s story, though, is pretty enthralling and I’m able to forgo the writing style and enjoy it. Sadly, these books give me the same depression that seeing an excellent movie gives me.

Alas.

I will admit, the more I waste time reading from stepheniemeyer.com, the more I like her. (Better than JK, who I was never fond of.) I like even more that she offers a playlist for each book (anybody who uses that much Muse must be okay). That’s something I would do. If I were to ever finish anything. My mom was right.

Last but not least, this week is not my last week at my stupid “wear a hat” store, as originally intended. I’m pretty annoyed about that. I’m also pretty annoyed that the creepy guy I interviewed with called me today and said, “Um, I’ve been getting calls from other stores telling me you’re working there,” as if I told him I was going to work at his store… Which I did not, for the very reason that he is creepy. “Thanks for telling me! Ugh!” I did. I did!

Oh well. In the whole thing, obviously the Lord’s will is being done in that I’m not leaving my store yet. Ugh is right, Creepy Guy. What do I have to do to get Evan graduated so I can be he paralegal, huh?

Oh yeah, and this is currently my song that makes all other songs obsolete - aka why have other songs?