After eight and a half years at my cozy little apartment, the bf and I moved out together to a place more than twice the size of the old place and all the modern amenities. It all happened quickly and in the end it was easier and harder than I thought it would be to move on. It's been nearly 2 months and as with my new years resolutions and all other plans, I'm finally getting around to saying goodbye and acknowledging how important that place meant to me.
I grew up as an adult there. I learned to truly be by myself - alone on weekends, killing bugs I hated, and more aware for my own safety and well-being. I fell in love there, then got my heart broken. I dated guys I probably shouldn't have and had them stay over just because I could. Though it was small, I hosted all sorts of friends there, from overnight visits on my inflatable aerobed to huge parties of over fifty people crammed into the shared backyard space - back when we were all younger and poorer and no one minded sleeping on the floor atop an inflatable mattress or cramped around a firepit in the backyard for a party.
I switched decades somewhat gracefully there and traversed over a dozen countries, all the while knowing that that little apartment would always be the home base I'd come back to. I wrapped up job #1 and job #2 while living there - the only 2 permanent jobs I ever had since I finished college. I made some wonderful friends during my time there, and lost friends I thought would be around for a lifetime.
I met the bf while living there - my first serious relationship. And man did we have fights there. And tears. And kisses. And happiness and incredulousness when he decided to move in to the tiny abode barely enough for one person and a cat. Then more tears when we found out I had cancer.
I managed to cram a lot of stuff into a place with barely any storage space. I slowly shed most of the hand me down furniture piece by piece as I rearranged and refurnished the place several times. I learned to (somewhat) live within my means and accepted that this old place would never completely feel clean to my mother's or my own standards. As the years went by, I'm not sure when it happened, but I started calling it "home" instead of "the apartment" while my parent's home became "my parent's house" instead of "home." It served me well and I won't forget it. I'll miss the cheap rent and rent control, but I won't miss the lack of AC, washer and dryer, and space!
Friday, March 19, 2010
Saturday, March 06, 2010
It's All A Sham
A knock on my bathroom door as I finish brushing my teeth. The bf peeps his head in.
BF: I want some cookies.
Me: Um, ok. You want me to bake you some?
BF: :)
I wander over to the kitchen and whip out the frozen Otis Spunkmeyer cookie dough from Costco.
Me: You know, you can bake these yourself too.
BF: ???
Me: They're precut. You just plop them on the cookie tray with parchment paper.
BF: That's it?! And here I thought you baked them from scratch every time! I thought you were slaving over them.
Me: Uh no.... How did you think I was able to bake them so quickly every time?
BF: It was all a lie!
BF: I want some cookies.
Me: Um, ok. You want me to bake you some?
BF: :)
I wander over to the kitchen and whip out the frozen Otis Spunkmeyer cookie dough from Costco.
Me: You know, you can bake these yourself too.
BF: ???
Me: They're precut. You just plop them on the cookie tray with parchment paper.
BF: That's it?! And here I thought you baked them from scratch every time! I thought you were slaving over them.
Me: Uh no.... How did you think I was able to bake them so quickly every time?
BF: It was all a lie!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Rocking Your World and Then Some
Has this been the longest I've gone without blogging? I don't remember anymore. I swear to you, brain cells are dying off quickly as I type. There is a good reason for that and let's just say 34 has, well, kinda sucked. So much so that I've decided to devote an entirely new blog to that reason, over
I don't plan on completely abandoning this blog, but writing will be a bit sparser for the next half year to year. This blog is still my baby, and I'll update with stories and random thoughts as I see fit. In the meantime, as the new year comes upon us, I'll have to come up with new resolutions! Whoo hoo... I tend to do them around March but maybe this year I'll do them on time.
My latest thoughts as the bf and I have a lovely post Christmas spat over yet another lame reason... we have these crazy neighbors who don't seem to care that there's no sound proofing between our adjoining bathrooms. They have no qualms about cursing at each other horribly and calling each other names when they fight (which is at least once a week or more). I believe there were objects thrown near someone's head once. So much negativity. We often wonder when something bad will really happen. Often times, I want to leave an anonymous note to the she-neighbor and say "You can do better. Leave him." Or sometimes, the bf gets really fed up and just wants to yell "Shut the F UP!!! We can HEAR YOU!"
On the flip side, the bf and I are so paranoid about them hearing us, we're very quiet. Even when arguing. Or at least I think so. At least there's no obscenities hurled at each other. Even so, I wonder if they can hear us. And I wonder if they think the same things, like "why are those people together?!" God I hope not.
I don't plan on completely abandoning this blog, but writing will be a bit sparser for the next half year to year. This blog is still my baby, and I'll update with stories and random thoughts as I see fit. In the meantime, as the new year comes upon us, I'll have to come up with new resolutions! Whoo hoo... I tend to do them around March but maybe this year I'll do them on time.
My latest thoughts as the bf and I have a lovely post Christmas spat over yet another lame reason... we have these crazy neighbors who don't seem to care that there's no sound proofing between our adjoining bathrooms. They have no qualms about cursing at each other horribly and calling each other names when they fight (which is at least once a week or more). I believe there were objects thrown near someone's head once. So much negativity. We often wonder when something bad will really happen. Often times, I want to leave an anonymous note to the she-neighbor and say "You can do better. Leave him." Or sometimes, the bf gets really fed up and just wants to yell "Shut the F UP!!! We can HEAR YOU!"
On the flip side, the bf and I are so paranoid about them hearing us, we're very quiet. Even when arguing. Or at least I think so. At least there's no obscenities hurled at each other. Even so, I wonder if they can hear us. And I wonder if they think the same things, like "why are those people together?!" God I hope not.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Chest Deep in the Mid Thirties
It's my last day of being 33 and I spent more than half of it NOT working. heh heh... Unfortunately I also spent half of 33 being cursed with an undiagnosed illness which hopefully will be diagnosed next week when I'm 34. Huzzah.
I decided to pamper myself with an overpriced pedicure today but already managed to ruin it by stubbing my toe two minutes into shuffling around at home. That's me, Miss Twinkletoes.
The BF is also now unemployed, as today was his last day of work. He's napping soundly right now after weeks of long hours. At least we're going to Disneyland tomorrow! Wheeeee.....
All in all, a pretty quiet birthday eve thus far. I will continue to navel gaze and reflect on 33 and ponder what life has in store for 34 throughout the week!
I decided to pamper myself with an overpriced pedicure today but already managed to ruin it by stubbing my toe two minutes into shuffling around at home. That's me, Miss Twinkletoes.
The BF is also now unemployed, as today was his last day of work. He's napping soundly right now after weeks of long hours. At least we're going to Disneyland tomorrow! Wheeeee.....
All in all, a pretty quiet birthday eve thus far. I will continue to navel gaze and reflect on 33 and ponder what life has in store for 34 throughout the week!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Driving Encounters
As I drove to yet another doctor's appointment this morning, I was stuck behind this behemoth of a vehicle. This
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Encounters
Most afternoons, you'll find me at coffee houses these days, just so I don't sit at home and stare at the wall for hours. I may be good at not turning on the TV during daytime hours, but for some reason, staring at the wall seems to be ok.
Last week, I stopped by Tanner's Coffee after picking up my car from the mechanic down the street. It was an especially sweltering day and the internet was down at home. An iced latte at a (hopefully) air conditioned coffee house sounded perfect.
Unfortunately, Tanner's declined to turn on the AC and mainly relied on ceiling fans. Hey, at least there's still free wi-fi I thought, as I unpleasantly stuck to their leather couch. And then there was the guy sitting in front of me, with his bare feet propped up on the coffee table as if this were his personal living room. At least I can't smell him and he's not bothering me I thought, as I moved my coffee to the farthest edge of the table away from his feet.
Barefoot guy finally left after half an hour and a pleasant young man sat down instead.
"What do you do?" he asked me, though I had made no eye contact and was staring straight at my computer managing three IM chats at the same time.
Since he did seem like a pleasant young man, I made polite conversation while continuing to type away at my computer. I learned he was of Lebanese descent and an aspiring architect. Nothing screaming Stranger Danger! I continued to go about my business and let the conversation lull.
"You have pretty feet," he suddenly commented. Well that got my attention. I looked up and because manners have been so ingrained into me, I politely thanked him. Then made a mental note that actually, I really needed a pedicure and the guy must be blind. Five minutes later, I finished my coffee, peeled myself off the leather couch and bid farewell to the pleasant young man with the foot fetish.
Last week, I stopped by Tanner's Coffee after picking up my car from the mechanic down the street. It was an especially sweltering day and the internet was down at home. An iced latte at a (hopefully) air conditioned coffee house sounded perfect.
Unfortunately, Tanner's declined to turn on the AC and mainly relied on ceiling fans. Hey, at least there's still free wi-fi I thought, as I unpleasantly stuck to their leather couch. And then there was the guy sitting in front of me, with his bare feet propped up on the coffee table as if this were his personal living room. At least I can't smell him and he's not bothering me I thought, as I moved my coffee to the farthest edge of the table away from his feet.
Barefoot guy finally left after half an hour and a pleasant young man sat down instead.
"What do you do?" he asked me, though I had made no eye contact and was staring straight at my computer managing three IM chats at the same time.
Since he did seem like a pleasant young man, I made polite conversation while continuing to type away at my computer. I learned he was of Lebanese descent and an aspiring architect. Nothing screaming Stranger Danger! I continued to go about my business and let the conversation lull.
"You have pretty feet," he suddenly commented. Well that got my attention. I looked up and because manners have been so ingrained into me, I politely thanked him. Then made a mental note that actually, I really needed a pedicure and the guy must be blind. Five minutes later, I finished my coffee, peeled myself off the leather couch and bid farewell to the pleasant young man with the foot fetish.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
The Never Ending Virus - In Which I've Now Become a Drug Addict
SO, it's been 6 MONTHS since I got that little cold back in March. 5 MONTHS since they diagnosed me with sub acute thyroiditis.
It's never good when your doctor calls you a "medical mystery." It seems that after
It was back to the primary care physician who took a look at my even more swollen thyroid, lymph glands and bright red itchy neck and prescribed giant horse pill sized ibuprofen, Zantac to prevent my stomach from bleeding as a result of all that ibuprofen (yikes!) and then a Claritin for the HIVES that were apparently afflicting my neck as a result of all that irritation and inflammation. Does it ever end?
Everything seems to only stifle the pain and some of the inflammation, but nothing is FIXING it. My regular doctor shot down my request to continue with the herbal drinks from the acupuncturist/herbal doctor. However, two weeks of six pills a day did not do the job. Back to the endocrinologist who suggested a higher, longer dose of Prednisone. And a huge promise to taper the dosage down a lot slower so I wouldn't feel like dying when I got off the drugs.
Here I am three weeks later, still on a dose so high that my brain is speedy like a run-on sentence, singing songs, planning my schedule days ahead, worrying about every little minutiae... mainly during the wee hours of 12am-3am when I'd really like to sleep. When I tried to taper down after the first week per the doctor's plan, I could feel it. And then the chest pains started whenever I didn't make sure to have a steady stream of the medicine in my system. An hour late with the pills? Feels like someone punched me in the chest. So now I call every Monday to let him know how I'm doing (nothing changes, glands still swollen!) and he just keeps me on this dose.
I asked him a few weeks ago "What if this just doesn't get better?" Both he and my primary physician never even saw it as an option. "It'll eventually get better. It's just taking a lot longer than normal."
Last week, I decided to be more persistent. "I'm getting very frustrated. It doesn't seem like I'm getting any better no matter what medicine or dosage I'm taking. What happens if it doesn't get better and how long do we do this?"
Again the endocrinologist was not fazed. "We can stay on the Prednisone longer. We can do this for a few more months. The last resort is to remove your thyroid. But since it's surgery, that will be a last resort." This means having to take synthetic hormones for the rest of my life. I'm not really happy with the options.
Here's the kicker. For some reason, they only have Prednisone at a certain dose and only allot a certain amount of pills for each prescription. I'm not sure if it's the pharmacy's policy or my insurance policy. I have to take four pills a day and I need a refill every 2 weeks. Insurance only allows monthly refills. Imagine my displeasure when I went to the pharmacy Monday night to get a refill only to be told I didn't qualify for one until five days later.
All I could think of was how bad the withdrawal had been when I tried to stop taking the steroids at the lowest dose. To suddenly be cut off at the highest dose? Someone might have to die. And it might be me.
Hearing myself tell the pharmacist that I needed these pills tonight and that there would be WITHDRAWAL, felt like a new low in my life. Luckily, the lady took pity on me and called the insurance company to sort it out. And luckily, there was someone with power who still took calls for Blue Shield at 11:30pm on a Monday night to allow me to pick up these pills. When I got home and told the bf what happened, he looked at me sadly and said "Probably didn't help that you had dark circles under your eyes."
After much pressure from the parents and the bf, I'm currently seeking a second opinion. We'll see what happens...
It's never good when your doctor calls you a "medical mystery." It seems that after
It was back to the primary care physician who took a look at my even more swollen thyroid, lymph glands and bright red itchy neck and prescribed giant horse pill sized ibuprofen, Zantac to prevent my stomach from bleeding as a result of all that ibuprofen (yikes!) and then a Claritin for the HIVES that were apparently afflicting my neck as a result of all that irritation and inflammation. Does it ever end?
Everything seems to only stifle the pain and some of the inflammation, but nothing is FIXING it. My regular doctor shot down my request to continue with the herbal drinks from the acupuncturist/herbal doctor. However, two weeks of six pills a day did not do the job. Back to the endocrinologist who suggested a higher, longer dose of Prednisone. And a huge promise to taper the dosage down a lot slower so I wouldn't feel like dying when I got off the drugs.
Here I am three weeks later, still on a dose so high that my brain is speedy like a run-on sentence, singing songs, planning my schedule days ahead, worrying about every little minutiae... mainly during the wee hours of 12am-3am when I'd really like to sleep. When I tried to taper down after the first week per the doctor's plan, I could feel it. And then the chest pains started whenever I didn't make sure to have a steady stream of the medicine in my system. An hour late with the pills? Feels like someone punched me in the chest. So now I call every Monday to let him know how I'm doing (nothing changes, glands still swollen!) and he just keeps me on this dose.
I asked him a few weeks ago "What if this just doesn't get better?" Both he and my primary physician never even saw it as an option. "It'll eventually get better. It's just taking a lot longer than normal."
Last week, I decided to be more persistent. "I'm getting very frustrated. It doesn't seem like I'm getting any better no matter what medicine or dosage I'm taking. What happens if it doesn't get better and how long do we do this?"
Again the endocrinologist was not fazed. "We can stay on the Prednisone longer. We can do this for a few more months. The last resort is to remove your thyroid. But since it's surgery, that will be a last resort." This means having to take synthetic hormones for the rest of my life. I'm not really happy with the options.
Here's the kicker. For some reason, they only have Prednisone at a certain dose and only allot a certain amount of pills for each prescription. I'm not sure if it's the pharmacy's policy or my insurance policy. I have to take four pills a day and I need a refill every 2 weeks. Insurance only allows monthly refills. Imagine my displeasure when I went to the pharmacy Monday night to get a refill only to be told I didn't qualify for one until five days later.
All I could think of was how bad the withdrawal had been when I tried to stop taking the steroids at the lowest dose. To suddenly be cut off at the highest dose? Someone might have to die. And it might be me.
Hearing myself tell the pharmacist that I needed these pills tonight and that there would be WITHDRAWAL, felt like a new low in my life. Luckily, the lady took pity on me and called the insurance company to sort it out. And luckily, there was someone with power who still took calls for Blue Shield at 11:30pm on a Monday night to allow me to pick up these pills. When I got home and told the bf what happened, he looked at me sadly and said "Probably didn't help that you had dark circles under your eyes."
After much pressure from the parents and the bf, I'm currently seeking a second opinion. We'll see what happens...
Sunday, August 30, 2009
How To Know You're Not Ready For the Next Step
I was uncomfortably navigating the aisles of Babies R Us yesterday, looking for that hilarious
Thank goodness there's no pressure for rugrats yet...
Thank goodness there's no pressure for rugrats yet...
Thursday, August 20, 2009
My Thoughts Exactly...
I love bunnies. I love cartoons. I love this song. And as for the subject matter, so apropros. Sigh. Enough said.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Things You Don't Think You Need...
Until you actually need them.
This ranks up there as one of the best inventions ever. I haven't personally been sprayed by a wee baby boy, but I've heard stories of those unexpected fountains. Hopefully my cousin will be getting plenty of use/blockage from this cute little gift.
When I showed my brother, he was horrified.
"Dude, if a kid sprayed me while I was changing a diaper, I'd be like, 'I'm OUT! That's it. No mas."
My sentiments exactly.
This ranks up there as one of the best inventions ever. I haven't personally been sprayed by a wee baby boy, but I've heard stories of those unexpected fountains. Hopefully my cousin will be getting plenty of use/blockage from this cute little gift.
When I showed my brother, he was horrified.
"Dude, if a kid sprayed me while I was changing a diaper, I'd be like, 'I'm OUT! That's it. No mas."
My sentiments exactly.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The "Force" and My Hair
In an effort to save some money while being on the dole, I've started hitting up the library and borrowing books (despite my slight OCD about those books being "dirty" and offering to repair a few of the worn paperbacks I got), holding off on purchasing a new luscious Macbook, eating at home much much more, and attempting to redye the blue streaks in my hair without the help of a licensed professional.
All I can say is that before I started getting my hair professionally dyed years ago, I once attempted to do it myself at home. How hard could it be, I thought? There is still more blue dots all over my bathroom than there ever was on my hair from that attempt.
Anyway, on my last visit, I convinced my hairstylist to sell/give me the leftover professional blue dye so that I can try quick touch ups at home to save money. And, I'm a teensy bit ashamed to say that I swiped a pair of disposable latex gloves from the doctor's office this week after my umpteenth visit (more update on that later), figuring the copays I was forking over should balance it out. After carefully applying the blue dye on the front two segments of my hair, and folding it up in foil like I'd seen my hairstylist do, I managed to get very little dye on any other undesired surfaces. Success!!! As I walked out to the living room to grab a drink and wait for my hair to dry, the bf looked up and stared at me with the two patches of foil on each side of my head.
"You look like a metallic Princess Leia," he remarked sweetly. Star Wars reference. Double success!!!
All I can say is that before I started getting my hair professionally dyed years ago, I once attempted to do it myself at home. How hard could it be, I thought? There is still more blue dots all over my bathroom than there ever was on my hair from that attempt.
Anyway, on my last visit, I convinced my hairstylist to sell/give me the leftover professional blue dye so that I can try quick touch ups at home to save money. And, I'm a teensy bit ashamed to say that I swiped a pair of disposable latex gloves from the doctor's office this week after my umpteenth visit (more update on that later), figuring the copays I was forking over should balance it out. After carefully applying the blue dye on the front two segments of my hair, and folding it up in foil like I'd seen my hairstylist do, I managed to get very little dye on any other undesired surfaces. Success!!! As I walked out to the living room to grab a drink and wait for my hair to dry, the bf looked up and stared at me with the two patches of foil on each side of my head.
"You look like a metallic Princess Leia," he remarked sweetly. Star Wars reference. Double success!!!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Cupid's Cruel Arrows
One of my favorite indie movies this summer has been
The tag line: "Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love. Girl doesn't." Ouch. This kind of thing happens everyday, right? But rarely do they make a film highlighting this very common and painful phenomenon in such a unique yet matter of fact way.
I don't want to ruin the movie, but let's just say I could identify with the protagonist in the story. You think everything's going well. You want to believe it's going somewhere despite some obvious red flags. (Well at the time, the flags appear more like pale pink until hindsight adds a richer hue.) You want so much for your love to be enough for the both of you, but it's just not - leaving you with a sense of loss, confusion, anger, despair, and the eternal "WHY?!!!"
I wanted to hate the girl in the movie. She was so cool and too cute. However my friend pointed out that the girl was always upfront with the protagonist. He simply got too emotionally attached. The story is also entirely from the boy's point of view. We never get her side of the story or her perception of the relationship. They could probably remake the movie entirely from her point of view. It would be an equally interesting film but I doubt it would affect as many people in terms of connecting with that universal sense of heartbreak.
The beautiful thing about the film is that it resolves things much like life does. It doesn't necessarily end up the way you want, but it opens up other possibilities and you simply move on.
The tag line: "Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love. Girl doesn't." Ouch. This kind of thing happens everyday, right? But rarely do they make a film highlighting this very common and painful phenomenon in such a unique yet matter of fact way.
I don't want to ruin the movie, but let's just say I could identify with the protagonist in the story. You think everything's going well. You want to believe it's going somewhere despite some obvious red flags. (Well at the time, the flags appear more like pale pink until hindsight adds a richer hue.) You want so much for your love to be enough for the both of you, but it's just not - leaving you with a sense of loss, confusion, anger, despair, and the eternal "WHY?!!!"
I wanted to hate the girl in the movie. She was so cool and too cute. However my friend pointed out that the girl was always upfront with the protagonist. He simply got too emotionally attached. The story is also entirely from the boy's point of view. We never get her side of the story or her perception of the relationship. They could probably remake the movie entirely from her point of view. It would be an equally interesting film but I doubt it would affect as many people in terms of connecting with that universal sense of heartbreak.
The beautiful thing about the film is that it resolves things much like life does. It doesn't necessarily end up the way you want, but it opens up other possibilities and you simply move on.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Anger Issues
Don't judge me but I did something bad the other day. I keyed some woman's shiny silver Benz. Just a little bit.
I've always wanted to do something like that, talked about it many times after several encounters with rude drivers. But it was always just talk. That day, something snapped inside of me. Maybe it was years of frustration with doing the right thing and feeling that life was really just that unfair. Or maybe it was some latent rebellious streak striking out at the one millionth customer. Who knows. I think I'm just going to blame it on hormones.
Let me back up and explain. I was at one of those ubiquitous Chinese shopping plazas near my parents' house, stopping off to run an errand. I waited patiently for a couple to get into their car and pull out of their spot in the busy parking lot, my signal light flashing for all to see. Unfortunately, as their car pulls out, a shiny silver Benz pulls forward from the other side to take their spot. Completely irrational as she had a spot on the other side - no need to pull forward like that, especially as I was waiting there, gesturing to her to indicate this fact. Instead, the beeyotch stares at me, then shuts off the car and ignores me. To top it off, someone else has already pulled in behind her to take the other spot so that I'll have to continue to circle the lot.
After I found another spot, surprisingly near her car, I couldn't help sticking out my key near my hips as I brushed by her car. Call it a moment of devilish weakness as my id took over and knocked the ego over its head momentarily. She'll probably never notice it and likely has more than enough money to buff it out. She fit the mode of middle aged spoiled Asian housewife. Yes, sometimes the stereotypes are true. Asian women can't drive. Asian drivers are rude. And women are crazy. Especially nicely repressed Asian women. Have a nice day!
I've always wanted to do something like that, talked about it many times after several encounters with rude drivers. But it was always just talk. That day, something snapped inside of me. Maybe it was years of frustration with doing the right thing and feeling that life was really just that unfair. Or maybe it was some latent rebellious streak striking out at the one millionth customer. Who knows. I think I'm just going to blame it on hormones.
Let me back up and explain. I was at one of those ubiquitous Chinese shopping plazas near my parents' house, stopping off to run an errand. I waited patiently for a couple to get into their car and pull out of their spot in the busy parking lot, my signal light flashing for all to see. Unfortunately, as their car pulls out, a shiny silver Benz pulls forward from the other side to take their spot. Completely irrational as she had a spot on the other side - no need to pull forward like that, especially as I was waiting there, gesturing to her to indicate this fact. Instead, the beeyotch stares at me, then shuts off the car and ignores me. To top it off, someone else has already pulled in behind her to take the other spot so that I'll have to continue to circle the lot.
After I found another spot, surprisingly near her car, I couldn't help sticking out my key near my hips as I brushed by her car. Call it a moment of devilish weakness as my id took over and knocked the ego over its head momentarily. She'll probably never notice it and likely has more than enough money to buff it out. She fit the mode of middle aged spoiled Asian housewife. Yes, sometimes the stereotypes are true. Asian women can't drive. Asian drivers are rude. And women are crazy. Especially nicely repressed Asian women. Have a nice day!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Young Love
As I sat here torpidly on my couch trying to move as little as possible, a young couple just walked by arguing. I missed most of the argument, but this is what I caught from the oh so eloquent boy as he skateboarded by with his girl.
"That's what I was trying to explain to you and your thick ass f***in skull!"
*Mental note to self, do not use this line while fighting... Wonder if they'll last...
"That's what I was trying to explain to you and your thick ass f***in skull!"
*Mental note to self, do not use this line while fighting... Wonder if they'll last...
Friday, June 26, 2009
It's All About Me
I've become one of THOSE people. I have an armada of individuals focused on my health and well-being, like those crazy old rich ladies. Except that I'm not rich nor hopefully crazy and old.
Don't get me wrong. I LOVE my doctors and health care network. They check up on me, squeeze me in for appointments when I'm not feeling well especially often as of late, and for the most part don't ever make me feel like I'm constrained by the limitations of an HMO. All of them are worth the long drives and worth every penny.
But as I was counting how many different people I have in my heath care rolodex (physical, mental, and emotional well-being), I felt a bit self-indulgent:
1) Primary care physician
2) Nurse Practitioner/gynecologist
3) Dermatologist
4) Dentist
5) Podiatrist (only once every 3 years)
6) Endocrinologist (he's new, thanks to my ill tempered thyroid)
7) Masseuse (she's also become my friend, that's how much I love seeing her)
8) Chiropractor (also new thanks to the pain of swollen thyroid thrashing my head and neck)
9) Psychologist (thanks to the stresses of my old job, though tapering off)
a) Hairstylist
b) Brow lady
I put the last two separately since they technically don't contribute to my health. However, I believe that they contribute to my emotional well-being to look decent and feel good and should be considered part of Team Whatchamacalit.
I briefly considered adding an acupuncturist/herbal doctor to the team when I was desperate for anything to make my head and neck feel better from the thyroid. That has been put on hold pending how the drugs do their job over the next week and a half! Until then, holding strong at just under a dozen folks on the propping up of Whatchamacalit.
Don't get me wrong. I LOVE my doctors and health care network. They check up on me, squeeze me in for appointments when I'm not feeling well especially often as of late, and for the most part don't ever make me feel like I'm constrained by the limitations of an HMO. All of them are worth the long drives and worth every penny.
But as I was counting how many different people I have in my heath care rolodex (physical, mental, and emotional well-being), I felt a bit self-indulgent:
1) Primary care physician
2) Nurse Practitioner/gynecologist
3) Dermatologist
4) Dentist
5) Podiatrist (only once every 3 years)
6) Endocrinologist (he's new, thanks to my ill tempered thyroid)
7) Masseuse (she's also become my friend, that's how much I love seeing her)
8) Chiropractor (also new thanks to the pain of swollen thyroid thrashing my head and neck)
9) Psychologist (thanks to the stresses of my old job, though tapering off)
a) Hairstylist
b) Brow lady
I put the last two separately since they technically don't contribute to my health. However, I believe that they contribute to my emotional well-being to look decent and feel good and should be considered part of Team Whatchamacalit.
I briefly considered adding an acupuncturist/herbal doctor to the team when I was desperate for anything to make my head and neck feel better from the thyroid. That has been put on hold pending how the drugs do their job over the next week and a half! Until then, holding strong at just under a dozen folks on the propping up of Whatchamacalit.
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Never Ending Virus - The Bug Lives On...
"Guess what honey? I'm gonna be a dude!"
Thyroiditis - the itis that never ends. After a good month of Advil taking and slight improvements, the obstinate thyroid of mine took a turn for the worse about two weeks ago. It became flaming hot itchy and started swelling up again, just in time for a road trip up to San Francisco.
Back to the endocrinologist, who prescribed me steroids this time. Prednisone, which is supposed to be a super powerful anti-inflammatory drug that they use as a last resort for stubborn inflamed things. Apparently athletes use it. Then die at like age forty from heart failure.
The doctor gave me five days worth, hoping it would knock this thing out of my system for good. But as soon as I started tapering off the pills last weekend, my neck started swelling up again and the annoying itchiness came back. Back to two more weeks of super duper steroids!
So I don't think it's the type of steroids that'll make me a dude, but it was still fun to say that to the bf. Here's crossing my fingers that two weeks of 'roids will finally do the trick and kick this thyroid's ass.
Thyroiditis - the itis that never ends. After a good month of Advil taking and slight improvements, the obstinate thyroid of mine took a turn for the worse about two weeks ago. It became flaming hot itchy and started swelling up again, just in time for a road trip up to San Francisco.
Back to the endocrinologist, who prescribed me steroids this time. Prednisone, which is supposed to be a super powerful anti-inflammatory drug that they use as a last resort for stubborn inflamed things. Apparently athletes use it. Then die at like age forty from heart failure.
The doctor gave me five days worth, hoping it would knock this thing out of my system for good. But as soon as I started tapering off the pills last weekend, my neck started swelling up again and the annoying itchiness came back. Back to two more weeks of super duper steroids!
So I don't think it's the type of steroids that'll make me a dude, but it was still fun to say that to the bf. Here's crossing my fingers that two weeks of 'roids will finally do the trick and kick this thyroid's ass.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Walking in LA
No one walks in LA? I try to but sometimes it's just not convenient. Yesterday, however, I spotted two very odd people walking around in LA.
1) A bum in Marina del Rey holding a sign "Spaceship broken. Need new parts." I give him points for humor and creativity.
2) A white dude sporting a
1) A bum in Marina del Rey holding a sign "Spaceship broken. Need new parts." I give him points for humor and creativity.
2) A white dude sporting a
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Slackers, Generation X, Y, Z, or the Funemployed. Call It What You Will
To all those people who keep asking me in that disdainful tone of voice "So... what is it that you do all day?" or "are you looking for a job yet?"
Dude, I'm just part of a
My brother's retort? "Lazies."
Dude, I'm just part of a
My brother's retort? "Lazies."
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Instead Of Greener Grass, Maybe It Might Be Browner, Yuckier Grass?
The bf and I still bicker. Mostly over little stupid things. New things. Sometimes big things. Often cliched coupley things. Then there are the unique things only to us. Being that we're both neurotic, stubborn, impassioned people, it makes for some drama.
The other week as I was driving home from visiting the godchildren, I put on an old Garbage CD for the long drive and "A Cup of Coffee" came on.
This was the song to describe the utter depths of despair I felt during the dark periods of pining over
The other week as I was driving home from visiting the godchildren, I put on an old Garbage CD for the long drive and "A Cup of Coffee" came on.
This was the song to describe the utter depths of despair I felt during the dark periods of pining over
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A Letter From My Goddaughter
My goddaughter handed me this card before I left for the day, with clear instructions to not open it till I got home. She even tucked it into my purse for me as a special surprise.
You should click on the picture and see the letter for yourself because I can't do it justice. It's a combination of her curiosity, randomness, and cuteness all rolled into one. Them eight year olds sure are smart. And listen in to everything you talk about with their parents...
In case you can't read the letter very well, here's what it says:
Dear Auntie (Whatchamacalit),
Sorry for not writing to you for a long time. I am glad you came. Why did you want to get lade off.
Love, (Sweet, curious, eight year old goddaughter)
You should click on the picture and see the letter for yourself because I can't do it justice. It's a combination of her curiosity, randomness, and cuteness all rolled into one. Them eight year olds sure are smart. And listen in to everything you talk about with their parents...In case you can't read the letter very well, here's what it says:
Dear Auntie (Whatchamacalit),
Sorry for not writing to you for a long time. I am glad you came. Why did you want to get lade off.
Love, (Sweet, curious, eight year old goddaughter)
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