Whatever, brick wall

Don't have a whole lot to say today. Just wanted to post something before the day was done. I thought I'd add a couple of random pictures I found when I was looking through my iPhoto folder tonight.

Yo Gobble Gobble

"I think about you all the time"...

That is what I said to my Anniefesto home page when I pulled it up for the first time in months today. I know I have been an absent lover, but I can honestly say that I think about this blog every day, and I have missed it terribly. I don't know what's been wrong, but I'm pretty sure it's getting better and I promise to make a concerted effort to keep Anniefesto going.
I had a pretty crummy holiday weekend to think things over and it made me realize that I need to write as badly as I need to exercise. It's like strength training, but for my brain.
So I thought I'd tell you a witty little ditty about my Thanksgiving break, just to welcome you back into my crazy, messed up mind. Hope you enjoy!

Last week sucked. Four day weekends are typically something to look forward to, but for some reason, this year Thanksgiving had my stomach all twisted up into knots. As many of you know, Thanksgiving, or Turkey Day, is basically more religious than Easter to those of us from the wonderful town of Webster Groves. People here get drunk off of the spirit of football, school spirit, bonfires and seeing long lost friends for these 4 days in autumn. Webster Groves on Thanksgiving could charm even the Grinch himself (I know I'm mixing up my holidays, but who cares). But this year, for some reason, Turkey Day sent me into a downward spiral of depression and despair. Maybe it's because:

~My stomach decided to revolt on me 2 days before the holiday and wouldn't let me leave the bathroom for more than an hour at a time. Gross, but true.
~I 'joined' Eharmony on Wednesday night and discovered that reading internet dating profiles are just as cringe-worthy as I thought it would be. One guy looked very promising until the part where he wrote "I adore Glenn Beck." That made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. (P.S. I DESPISE Glenn Beck. ABORE him.)
~My family went to Kansas City for Thanksgiving, and I had to skip it b/c of an upset stomach and dogsitting duties. I got as far as St. Peters in my car before I realized it was a bad idea to try to make the trip there and back in less than 24 hours. I basically had a nervous breakdown in my car while I was turning around to head home. The ugly cry was present, I assure you.
~I woke up at 4am on Black Friday and spent more money at Target before the sun was up than I've spent there in the last year...and I put it on my credit card.
~My Gilmore Girls marathon was charming enough until the middle of season 3 when I started to wonder 'Why didn't I go to Yale like Rory Gilmore? How come Lorelai can eat like a prize pig, but all I have to do is look at a cracker and I gain weight? Where is my Logan Huntzberger?!' I kept muttering to myself 'I coulda been somebody. I coulda been a contender!' The dogs must think I'm a crazy person.
~The two times people did call to invite me out, I was in the middle of 'natural colonic' and didn't feel suitable for company.
~I chose to skip church on Sunday, even though I've been trying not to do that anymore, and missed Fred, Marsha & Jon Bonham leading worship and my friend Ryan preaching the sermon. I skipped it to add another 2 hours to my 12 hour marathon of sleep. Lame.
~They don't even show General Hospital at all on Thanksgiving weekend. I have really been wanting to watch Sam & Jason do battle with James Franco (whose character is named 'Franco'), but instead all they were showing was college football. Boo.

Since I like to think of myself as a 'glass half full' kind of person, I should mention that there were a few bright points to the weekend:

~I finally got that TV that was meant to be my birthday present (I was born in July, FYI). It's HD and pretty and receives all 5 major networks with nothing more than a $10 antenna.
~I got to spend Thanksgiving with all of the Schawackers. They fed me stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie AND Mary gave me an early Christmas present despite the fact that I crashed her family holiday with 3 hours notice.
~All of Annie the Nanny's Christmas shopping is finished. And since 3 of the Fagan kids have a birthday within the next month, I knocked those presents out of the way as well. Score.
~I bought a pretty new dress and when I tried it on, I realized that I needed it in a smaller size than usual.
~I spent a lot of time thinking about how much I miss my blog and worked up the courage to get back on that horse again.

That's all I've got for now. I'll write more later, I swear. I've been dying to get down on paper (figuratively) the inner monologue that runs through my mind while I'm at work. I've even made notes of the ridiculous things that I think about while filing or processing check requests. I think that I've got the title for my first book all worked out, just from the time spent reflecting on my awkward social interactions at my job. 'I Think There's Something Wrong With Me' by Anne Simon. It's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?

Yin v. Yang

Good things about my new job:
7.5 hours a day, and they're flexible.
A fresh start.
Department meetings.
New people to befriend.
Challenges for my brain.
8 straight hours of Coldplay on Pandora.
Lunch breaks.
Microsoft Outlook (don't ask me why, I just love it).
Health insurance. Good health insurance.
My team, because they're fantastic.
Bake Sales. 5 bake sales since August 1rst, because RECares.
Riverport sound checks.
All of my co-workers born before 2000 and none of them wear diapers (I don't think)
Diet Dr. Pepper fountain drinks...all day long.
Morning work outs.
Annual pay raises.

Bad things about my job:
I can't make a Target run count as work time, no matter how hard I try.
Candy machines.
Already found spider veins from sitting for too long.
Everyone knows how often I have to pee. It's frequent.
My awkwardness is not charming yet, just a little strange.
The amount of time I spend on highways numbered -70.
They are old friends, but I'm the new girl.
Actually, I'm not so much a girl. 29 is old in my office, especially for an EA (editorial assistant)
Bake Sales. 5 bake sales since August 1rst. RECares, but not about my diet.
No one there knows how funny I am, which contributes to the awkwardness.

Altogether, the good far outweighs the bad. But the bad is funnier.

FYI: I did a report on South Korea in 5th grade, which is when I first learned about the yinYang.
Your Welcome.

If you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need

Elsevier, the world's largest publisher of medical and scientific literature, forms part of the Reed Elsevier group. Based in Amsterdam, the company has substantial operations in the United Kingdom, USA and elsewhere.

Did you catch that? Substantial operations in the UNITED KINGDOM! Actually, they have offices on the Strand. In London. Next to the National Gallery. Up the street from Westminster. Round the bend from Buckingham Palace.

I'm so moving back to London, even if it means I have to start writing textbooks on surgical technology or diagnostic microbiology. Can you hear that? I believe it's London, calling.

Editorial Assistant

So, I've got this new job....
I've been temping 2 days a week at a health and science educational publisher here in town for the past 3 months or so and yesterday my supervisor told me that they would be hiring an editorial assistant soon and she'd like me to apply.
I was so excited. Then I was scared. Then I realized it doesn't pay anymore than I make now. Then I was excited about the prospect of having a job where raises and promotions are an option. Then I started freaking out. Then, I got excited again.
I haven't even told my parents yet. Part of me is resisting admitting that this is really happening because, while it is wonderful, it is not what I wanted. It might be better than what I wanted (and let's face it, I can't actually define what that is anymore), but proofreading chapters on scabies and festering ulcers was not on my radar.
I LOVE the people I work with. The team I'm on is small and I cannot say enough nice things about the editors I've been assisting. I'm oddly shy when I'm there, which I think kind of makes me come off as a bitch, but for right now I'm just trying to not screw up too bad.
So that's where I'm at. I basically decided not to worry about what would happen in August, when my nanny job ends and my paycheck goes with it, and the good Lord has worked this out on my behalf. I am struggling to be grateful, but it's a good kind of struggle. It's forced me to take a good look at my selfishness, my propensity for delusion. Let me just say that it has not been easy but it has been good. Why do people resist counseling? It's so illuminating.
While I still dream of winning the lottery so that I can spend years abroad, I am happy to say I no longer live in the fucked up mindset of believing that it might actually happen. And as much as it kills me to write this, I am very much looking forward to building a 401k (once I figure out what that actually means)! I have a lot of peace about being single, adore my rent-free apartment, am more than halfway done with paying off my credit cards and have begun saving for my Dirty 30 trip to Europe next summer.
Life is good!

Carpe Diem

From Wikipedia:

Carpe diem is a phrase from a latin poem by Horace. It is popularly translated as "seize the day". In Horace, the phrase is part of the longer Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero – "seize the day and place no trust in tomorrow", and the ode says that the future is unknowable, and that instead one should scale back one's hopes to a brief future, and drink one's wine. Compare with the Biblical "eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die", with emphasis on making the most of current opportunities because life is short and time is fleeting – an existential caution.

I should tell you, I should tell you. I should tell you, I've got baggage.
-Rent

For most of my life, I've swung pendulum style between the past and the future, carefully avoiding too much 'living in the moment' crap. I can recount many a story about growing up using my flair for embellishment; I can speculate on the amazing possibilities that are still before me. And I think this is part of my weight problem. I forget what I ate earlier, don't plan for what to eat tomorrow, and put anything I want into my mouth in the moment.

I find it very difficult, almost impossible at times, to properly identify my feelings about the present. I'm not sure why I feel this way, or even when it all started, but recently I have come face-to-face with my supreme disassociation skills and I'm finding it very interesting.
Though I'm hesitant to admit it, I'm a whole lot like my dad. When we were little he told us great tales of his own childhood; from delivering my grandparent's WWII love letters into all the neighbors mailboxes during a particularly exciting game of 'Mailman', to busting his lip open on a cookie that was really a dried starfish because his friend Fathead dared him to eat it, to point blank asking his teacher (who was also a habited nun) 'Why do you have a mustache? I thought only boys could get those.'

My dad is a great storyteller. I didn't know half of his material was bullshit until I hit my twenties. These days he likes to talk about how he is going to move to Montana, run a ranch and write the great american novel as soon as he retires. He is also extremely sentimental and most nights he can be found indulging himself with whiskey and old photo albums in his Men Den, reminiscing about the 'good old days'. It can be charming...sometimes. But mostly, he sucks at being present in our lives. His life is mostly spent looking back or looking forward, with a whole lot of drinking to distract him from the here and now. I don't know why it's so easy to feel anger or pity while detailing his life when I am so clearly cut from the same cloth.

The good news is that I have been made aware of this tendency (see, counseling is totally worth it) and now I am able to resist my incliniation to 'simply survive' as opposed to 'carpe diem'. So this July, as I end my time as a nanny and move into a more grown-up job, I will live somewhere between the past and the future. No day but today!

P.S. Don't think this means that I won't wax poetic on my last day of work. But I will be seizing THAT moment, not regressing, I swear.

Long time, no see