Piling On

2006-03-07 - 2:55 p.m.

Sometimes, when you stop doing something because you're busy, it's hard to start up again. With blogging, I feel like I should be very clever or poignant or meaningful or entertaining. Which is silly, because the point of this in the first place was to write down what was going on with me for people I cared about to read and catch up.

But soon, with reading other people's diaries and sites, I realized that this medium could be more than just a dumping site. And I wanted to be one of the cool kids, too. Cool kids. Blogging. Sigh. Yeah, I know how it sounds.

So, to update those of you who actually read this:

My uncle is out of my grandparents' house. My grandfather lost his sense of smell, lost vision in one eye, and fell up the stairs in the basement and messed up his rotator cuff during my uncle's stay. My grandmother contracted shingles about a week after my uncle left. I miss them and I want to see them, but my grandmother is so strung out, it's hard to listen to her talk about neighbors I never knew. And I know a lot of her neighbors.

I just got rejected from the fellowship I had for this year. I'm completely depressed about this. I was thinking of not applying because of the pressure, but there's something about knowing that you're not good enough for something even if you didn't want it that stings. Especially when you know that you were good enough before.

This week is Spring Break. I'm going to get some papers done, take the car in for a tune up that will cost an arm and a leg, and I need to get some of the house in order and get my financial aid package done. We'll see how it all goes. This past weekend, the Boy and I helped out with a costume ball at school. It was good to see people and hang out. At the same time, I'm just... it's hard to know that you only have a few friends, that they're scattered around the country, and that some of them just don't know your husband well enough to feel comfortable around him. Heck, some of them haven't even met him yet.

I guess the big thing is this summer. Every time I think about it, I feel sick. I am so scared that I won't get an offer, that I'll have an impossible time with the grades I have now, that the Boy will have to support us no matter how hard I try. That everything I'm trying to do will never work out because I still have that cloud of mediocrity around me. I'm afraid that something is going to come up and take away everything I worked for alll over again, that the storm that came after my first job after college wasn't a one-time thing but what life is going to be like.

My lenten vow is to take better care of my body. Not "not eat sweets" or "exercise every day" but to make choices that will be better for me. Work out, drink more water, eat more vegetables. But without a "thou shalt not" so I don't beat myself up for not accomplishing what I set out to do. I need to take care of myself, but at the same time, I have very little interest in it. If we ever do get a dog, the Boy will have to walk it, because there is no way in hell I'll actually be good enough about doing that. Walking is the devil.

I've been doing a lot of work helping out a Brazilian family here in Pittsburgh. Their youngest child has a genetic disease common in the Amish, and they had to come here for treatment. Of course, because of all the lovely issues of getting jobs here in the U.S. as a non-citizen, and all the therapies and treatments the baby needs, it's been impossible for either the mom or dad to get a job. I've been doing what I can; I just feel like no one else is really helping, and I'm afraid of drowning in this.

Yeah, it's a depressed entry. I'll try to write a happier one soon.

Healing

2006-02-02 - 3:32 p.m.

Today we found out terrible news in the law school. One of the first year students took his life. Yes, I did know who he was. He might have known who I was. I won't say more than that on my side of things.

However, this person had a wife and a baby on the way.

When I was young, my best friend was my cousin. When he died, his dad took his life and left his wife with two more children and everything to cope with. This was the guy who reached out to me after his son died because I became so withdrawn. And then he was gone. No more rollercoasters or fireworks or birch beer with him. The family tried to keep it from me because they were worried how to explain all of this to an eight year old. Someone slipped a few months later. As the years went by, I watched people be hurt, confused, angry, depressed. I watched his family struggle through counseling and the other son feel rejected and guilty. He was younger than me when it happened; there was nothing he could have done or did do wrong. But it's still a pain that never goes away.

I watched a similar thing when I was in high school and the sweetest kid in my year took his life. His best friends couldn't understand. He just was so sweet and nice, and I still wish so many things about that situation to have been different.

I've had other people in my life die. There is something about someone taking their life that hurts more, like a wound that won't heal. I am praying for this man's wife and his baby that their family and friends back home (where she's going) will surround her with the support and love they both need. Unfortunately, I think they both will need it.

Hard to Handle

2006-01-30 - 10:29 p.m.

I just like song titles...

Anyway, I am actually pretty frustrated. I am, by nature, a listener. Hard to believe here, but for those of you who I read, you know I generally comment on your blogs more than I post. (Except Empty Nest, because I still can't post comments there, but you should read her, because she's swell.)

But for the most part, I talk about... crap. I could never really have a diary on reading or music or knitting or whatever. I don't have those interests, and I don't really like talking about things ad nauseum. I don't want to be an expert in much of anything. This may explain why I was never interested in anything in particular as a kid, never had a "compass" in life. What I find interesting is people. And their varied lives and what interests them, for the most part. Not the sports teams themselves, but what they mean to a friend. Not 24 or Lost, but how excited they are to share and what kind of character they like. And baby pictures. Lots and lots of baby pictures.

So I don't talk much. I listen. And sometimes I talk about what's going on with me, usually when something's a little too big for my brain.

But listening takes a lot sometimes. And when you care about the person you're listening to, that can take a lot out of you. And when that person wants you to obsess over something you have no interest in for the third conversation in a row, it can be too much. I am not interested in many subjects. I don't know a damned thing about what the Boy is studying. He's getting the Ph.D., not me. He doesn't know what I'm studying. He might know what classes I'm taking, but it's early in the semester, and I don't expect him to know. What I expect him to know is when I'm done with class or where I left the cell phone. Or how much I love him. That's what affects the both of us, and that's what matters to both of us. I'm not going to learn nuclear physics to better our relationship. I don't think it could better it. I might have to learn more about football someday, but I don't have to be an expert, nor does the Boy make me feel like I'm stupid for not knowing who's the best running back in the league.

A lot of friends I've had made me feel like I was less intelligent than they were. I probably am. At the same time, I don't think the smarter you are, the better friend you are. If that's the requirement, someone needs to explain it to me.

Six Months Sappy

2006-01-23 - 1:16 p.m.

Today, it has been six months of marriage. Go back, it's true.

Six months ago today, I was exhausted and tired and full of hairspray and makeup. I was corseted and sweaty and my feet hurt. I was hungry and did I mention tired and the air conditioner in the limo didn't work and

Absolutely happy.

I love you, Boy. You are the one thing in my life I know I can count on. You are always by my side, even if we don't know what the other is thinking. I know your heart is with me, and I want to tell you again that my heart is yours forever. You are the most wonderful gift God has given me this far, and I only hope someday our family will increase that gift to the rest of the world. I could not have asked for a more caring, more wonderful person in my life, and I am so proud to be your wife.

Sorry I'm still sick and icky.

Sick with a Cold

2006-01-21 - 5:08 p.m.

The Boy heard from the endocrinologist. All is well. As for me, I have a cold. I've had it since Tuesday, and I think that's enough being sick for 2006, thank you very much. I'm also a little freaked, because when you're sick, working makes you sicker. But the work doesn't go away in school (not that it doesn't go away when you're at work, but there are other people that will help you out). I have a ten page first draft due Monday, two applications due Friday, and a whole lot of reading. Woo!

I also lost an election for editor-in-chief. Unfortunately, I forgot that law school is like high school, and you have to bring all your friends to an election to win. Dammit. But I get more sleep this way,

I'm just worried that the firm I'm working for this summer will not be thrilled with my grades, and I really want to just have everything set up. Cos I'm anal and neurotic. Also, I'm just generally freaked. My grandfather fell up some stairs and hurt his shoulder, my uncle's STILL there at their house, and... You know when things just seem like they're on a downward spiral? Some things are going the same (like the Boy, I'm not forgetting my blessings), but nothing good's happened in a while.

Just in a funk. Bleah. Things will get better in a few days...

Minneapolis Monday - DC Monday - 2007-08-06
Okay - 2007-08-02
The End is Here - 2007-07-26
Two Years - 2007-07-23
Screaming to a Halt - 2007-07-21

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