I'm not sure if that title is grammatically correct, or if it even makes sense. Do the 'more' and 'less' cancel out each other? I don't know. English majors, help me out here.

Today at 3:45 I will be having more of my ear removed. The lab work from the first removal showed "moderate to severely abnormal" skin cells that extended to the edge of the sample they had, so the pathologist recommended removing more tissue to make sure they have it all.

A few people have asked me if I'm scared about cancer. The answer is no. The dermatologist said it wasn't cancer, but if left alone could become "more troublesome". I don't think doctors like to throw out the word cancer unless it's absolutely certain, which is understandable. The only reason I'm even nervous at all is I have no idea how much tissue they are removing and what my ear will look like when they're done. I'm hoping it won't look like Mike Tyson decided to gnaw on it for a while.

I'm also a little apprehensive because it's my left ear and I always sleep on my left side. Always. Even if I fall asleep on my back or right side I will wake up on my left side. I'm not quite sure how I'll keep myself from rolling over on it aside from waking up to throbbing pain if I do.

Other than that everything is fine. If you're worrying, don't. Seriously. There are way worse things happening to people. And who knows, maybe I'll start a new plastic surgery trend where people put notches in their ears.

Honeymoon photos are up at our flickr site. Enjoy!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/otisi/

This morning Otis and I went mountain biking before church. I only fell and maimed myself once! Then we successfully negated any caloric benefits from the ride by downing a plate of Texas Cheese Fries at Cheddar's. Yum. And seeing as how the mass quantities of fat and carbohydrates have lulled us into a catatonic state, we will now take a nap.

I love Sundays.

Today Otis and I have been married for 2 months, and I'm celebrating by re-writing job descriptions and editing our employee handbook. Woo hoo! Otis is celebrating by waiting to find out if he got a job in another department at work. I know. We're vicious party animals.

I'm sure you're expecting some comments about how married life is going, yada yada yada. I don't really feel like doing that, because truly, what could I say that would be any different from what every other married person has said 2 months down the road? I'll spare you the nauseating commentary and instead let you use your imagination. That's way more fun.

I realized I never gave my final update on the Scary Freckle, so here it is: they removed the remainder of the spot along with a bit of the cartilage on the rim of my ear. All labwork came back clear, showing they removed all of Scary Freckle's scary cells. The ear has healed quite nicely, and you really can't even tell anything was done.

Next weekend Otis and I will hit up Austin City Limits festival. It's hard to believe our lives together have come full circle. Last year this was the first major event we did together, and I'm excited that this year we'll be doing it married. (I know what you're thinking. Get your mind out of the gutter). And seeing as how this post and your imagination are digressing, I'll leave you with that.

Lately I've been thinking about what I'm actually accomplishing with my life and feeling guilty about the answer: nothing. Well, maybe not nothing, but nothing as great as what Jess or Amy are accomplishing. While I am feeling slightly guilty about doing nothing, I'm also enjoying being a little lazy. Five years ago (I can't beleive it's actually been that long) I was working 35-40 hours per week while taking 15 hours of classes and walking dangerously close to the line of absolute burnout. It was solely my drive to finish school and get that diploma that kept me going in my last year of college. That and the fact that I actually thought having a degree would get me a good job, but that's a topic for another post.

In the five years I've been out of school I have had no desire whatsoever to go back. I really can't think of anything that would motivate me enough to want to resume the lifestyle I had in undergrad multiplied by 100. But I really feel like I should be doing MORE with mylife than I am now, learning something that will push me to higher levels of thought, and maybe even higher levels of employment.

As far as my job goes, I'm pretty content. I'm learning a lot about Human Resources, and having the opportunity to develop HR practices from the ground up is actually really great experience. I finally have some HR mentors to help me in this process so I don't feel like I'm floundering out there on my own. And in talking to them I've realized I have a much better grasp on HR concepts than I realized. Apparently I'm not an idot, and I'm kind of good at this. Who knew?

Next spring I'm going to start working on getting my HR certification, which in the HR world means more than any masters degree. I've heard this process is pretty challenging and the certification test is more difficult than anyone ever expects it to be. I'm excited about this upcoming challenge and what it could mean for the future of my career. Maybe I'm doing more than I realize, and maybe my life doesn't have to assume some kind of insane pace in order for me to be accomplishing something.

To help prepare festival goers for last weekend's Austin City Limits Festival, the ACL Fest crew sent out a "top 10 things you should know" list, which included such valuable information as drink lots of water, how to get in and out of the festival, etc. While helpful, I think they left off a few important things:

#11 - ACL Fest is not a fashion show. We should not see you putting powder on your nose as you bake in the 95+ degree sun waiting for a show to start.

#12 - If you see a guy standing around with his arm permanently stuck in this position:

Do not be alarmed. He is merely suffering from Beer Arm Syndrome. It will go away as soon as he puts the beer down.

#13 - If you can't handle the smell of pot, you probably shouldn't come to ACL. You'll just look like an idiot with one of those white masks on your face.

#14 - Some of you just should not wear a bikini. You know who you are.

And while we're on the subject, I really think the people at ACL should know that Tag-A-Kid just sounds wrong.

I just got back from dessert at a quaint little French restaurant here in Austin. You know, one of those places that's overly expensive because the name is some French word nobody can pronounce. One of those places where you expect the food to be good precisely because it's expensive and you can't pronounce the name. I ordered creme brulee. It wasn't good. I also ordered some kind of coffee with alcohol in it. It wasn't good either. And as if the fact that I was paying $11 for coffee and dessert wasn't enough, there was a huge cockroach crawling on the wall behind me.

But the highlight of the night was the live piano player who provided the background music for our conversation. His setlist included such hits as "What If God Was One of Us" by Joan Osborne, "The Dance" by Garth Brooks, and "When a Man Loves a Woman" by Michael Bolton. I was doing ok with the music until I looked up and saw a couple at the bar sharing a romantic moment while the soft melodies of Marcy's Playground's "Sex and Candy" played in the background. That's when all conversation stopped.

Me: Is that Sex and Candy?
S: I think so. They wrote sheet music for that song?
Me: Apparently so. Do you think he takes requests?

I never went over and asked if he did, but if he had I totally would have requested "Beat It" by Michael Jackson. Let's see him tinker that one out on a piano.

Tonight I got the crazy whim to make some gluten-free bread. Maybe it's because I was bored, or maybe it's because I'm in pre-menstral carb hoarding syndrome. Whatever the case, I made some from a mix I've had in my pantry for at least a year, even though I was short an egg and didn't have the 9x5 inch loaf pan or "heavy duty mixer" it called for. My arm worked well enough. And now, an hour and a half later, I'm eating my my square, 8x8 inch bread (because that's the closest pan I had) and I gotta say I'm not impressed. If it tastes like anything - and it really doesn't - I would have to say it tastes like what I imagine paper would taste like, just less chewy. Which makes me realize it's totally not worth it to make my own bread. I'd rather spend the $6.99 on a tiny loaf of bread from Whole Foods that tastes like something that resembles bread and is in a shape I can actually make a sandwich out of.

For the last week I have been fighting a battle with Ragweed, and the only things that have kept me alive are the many, many medications I have been taking. I shall list them for you here:

Astelin - antihistamine nasal spray
Claritin - oral antihistamine
Patanol - antihistamine eye drops
Mucinex - decongestant
Echinacea - natural immune booster
Similasan - homeopathic allergy eye drops
Benadryl - oral antihistamine guaranteed to knock you unconscious in 30 minutes or less

As you can see, I really like antihistamines. They are my friend. The only problem with taking so many is that my mouth feels like the Sahara desert all the time, forcing me to consume abnormally large amounts of water, which in turn forces me to visit the restroom every hour or so. The other unforeseen side effect of taking all these medications (namely the benadryl) is the strange dreams. But it's either that or no sleep at all.

I don't think I'm actually going to win this battle. In fact, I know I won't. I'm really just doing what I can to survive until Ragweed's more fiece opponent - the cold weather - comes in and destroys it.

In an act of total and complete surrender to The Allergies, I left work early yesterday so I could go home and perhaps try to sleep them off. Anything other than consciousness is an improvement to my situation. It didn't work. I'm so hopped up on antihistamines right now I'm lucky I can even close my eyes. Some unforeseen side effects of all the meds have been taking are a twitch in my left eye and constipation. Totally didn't see that one coming. So now I'm not just Cranky -Itchy-Eyes Woman. I'm Cranky-Itchy-Eyes-Can't-Poo-And-Has-An-Eye-Twitch Woman. It's not pretty folks. And while your inclination may be to feel sorry for me, you should really feel sorry for Otis. He's the one that has to sleep next to me.

This morning I left the house at 6:45am to go to a 7am Pilates class, and I discovered there are a butt load of people on the road at 6:45 in the morning. I don't know why this surprised me. When I lived in Houston and was making the 30 mile commute from home to U of H, I would have to leave at 6:15 to make it to my 8:30 class on time because there were SO MANY people on the road at that ungodly time of the day. Now I live 3 miles and 5-7 minutes from a job that I don't have to be at until 9am. I consider myself very lucky. And if I have anything to do with it, I will NEVER live in the suburbs again. My philosophy: if you can help it, never live more than 10 minutes from work. The stress of commuting and the expense of gas pretty much negate any positives of living in that big fancy house that you could only afford in the burbs.

I haven't been blogging much of value lately, mostly because I would have to break my vows of what I won't write about on here if I were to write about what's really weighing on my mind. If this were a truly anonymous blog and I knew people reading it had no idea who I was, I'd probably feel a little more open to disobeying my own rules. But as it is, too many of my friends and family and, I'm afraid, people who have influence and/or contact with my employer read this site for me to openly spill whatever I please.

That's the kind of weird irony about blogging. At least for me. I originally started blogging 4 years ago so I could have an outlet to voice my opinions, frustrations, joys, etc. I will admit that the slightly narcissistic part of me liked the idea that there might be people who would want to read what I have to say. That part of me still exists. But over the years as blogging has progressed into a mainstream communication medium, and through some stupidly learned lessons of my own, I have learned that there are certain areas I must avoid.

Hopefully I will one day be able to write about what I am (I hope) ever so vaguely alluding to. Hopefully that day will come sooner rather than later, becuase I can not continue to live with the underlying stress and the ulcers this is causing me.

I leave you with this quote that I think best describes how I'm feeling right now:

The problem is that most folks, besides not believing they are special (a tragic oversight, by the way), are so dulled out or fatigued that their innate intelligence, creativity, and passion are encrusted with inertia and thereby rendered sluggish.

I'll leave the reasons why up to you.

Tonight Otis and I decided to veg out, cook some salmon, and drink some wine...one of our favorite evenings together. Here's what I learned:

1. Your risk of injuring yourself increases exponentially to the amount of wine you have drank. drunk? Screw it. I don't care.

2. Heroes is SO MUCH BETTER DRUNK.

3. You probably shouldn't pluck your husband's eyebrows after drinking three glasses of wine.

4. I probably shouldn't be blogging about this (see previous post).

Did you know that the Glory of the Lord is in the form of fried shrimp? I didn't until today. Or, I did as a child, but I haven't seen His Glory in nigh upon 14 years. But today. Today I TASTED the Glory of the Lord. And it was good.

I found the Glory of the Lord here. I encourage you to go experience it for yourself. Be prepared to be transformed.

As I sit here typing this in our dimly lit living room there is a gnat-like bug crawling across the screen. I keep trying shoo it away but I think it likes the blue glow of the iBook sceen.

Otis and I went camping last night at a little park on Lake Travis, about an hour outside of town. I think we ate practically every form of food you can roast on a stick over a campfire, including boudin, which actually doesn't roast too well on a stick. The casings are too thin and the insides end up exploding out and spilling all over the place. The Glory of the Lord did not shine down upon my stomach after eating all of that food.

Otis invented a new campfire dessert - S'mOreos. Roast a marshmallow and smush it between the two twisted apart ends of an oreo and you've got yourself a S'mOreo. It's your choice to eat the cream filling out or not. Otis preferred to leave the double stuff filling and just pile the roasted marshmallow on top. It might explain why he didn't sleep too well.

It was great to get away even if it was only for one night and we could hear the dull roar of cars zooming down 620 in the distance. It was a night filled with such adventures as running around on what is usually the water covered bed of Lake Travis, playing with fire, and narrowly avoiding the dog puking in the tent in the middle of the night. The best part is we were the only souls around, and we avoided paying the normal $15 camping fee since there were no park rangers around to pay. We definitely want to make a trip back there with a group of friends, and hopefully sooner rather than later.

Heard on SNL's Weekend Update:

"This week Ford announced that it would be discontinuing the Taurus after 20+ years of production, forcing millions of 30-somethings to find a new way to show the world they've given up on their dreams."

I guess now they'll have to settle for a Chevy Malibu.

I know what you're thinking. Three posts in one day?! What the heck! Let me explain - Otis is in Michigan until Thursday, so I have a lot of free time on my hands. A lot.

It's surprised me how much I miss him, and not in an "oh my God I'll never see him again" kind of way, but in an "I didn't realize how much he fills my life" kind of way. Otis left early yesterday morning. I had my day full with driving to Boerne and hanging out with the family for my brother's birthday, so I didn't think too much about it. But today. Today has been the first day since we got married that he wasn't there when I woke up. And it was weird. It's even weirder knowing he won't be coming home tonight and I'm left to my own devices to fill the void of time.

I guess I didn't realize how attached I'd grown to him in the three months since we got married. I am really freaking attached, people. I'm not complaining. Just surprised. And maybe a little scared/excited about the fact that I'll probably only grow more attached.

To the Juiceboxes, I have no idea how you did it this past summer. If there was an award for enduring the suckiness of being separated from your spouse, I'd nominate you.

Apparently the communication gods do not want me to speak with my husband while he's away. It's really pissing me off. I spent most of last night wondering why Otis didn't call me, and what was he doing that he can't even pick up the phone for five freaking seconds to call his wife and say hi?! Um, maybe I went a little psychotic. Maybe. A little.

I decided to call him one more time at 10:00 my time (11:00 his) to give him one last chance to redeem himself and be the good husband I know he is. That's when I found out he'd been trying to call me all evening and apparently my phone was going straight to voicemail. I totally blame this on Mr. Juicebox and his suggestion to update the software on my phone, which I did Monday night before going to bed. After making the discovery that Otis couldn't get through, I realized I hadn't received a call all day. (We won't go into the fact that not receiving a call all day did not surprise me. That's for another post, which I think I will entitle "PATHETIC LOSER".)

And now, NOW, Google Talk is freaking out and won't even let me sign in. Yet ANOTHER plot to keep me from communicating with my husband who is 1400 miles away. But the gods can't deter me. I still have e-mail, and if worse comes to worse, I'll send him a dang telegram! Stop.

Today was our monthly "Staff Chick Lunch" thing, in which all of the girls on staff get together, eat lunch, and talk about something. I promise it's really not as lame as it sounds. I actually really enjoy them. This month one of the girls/ladies/women (I don't know what to call them) made several different kinds of homemade soup for us all, and she asked those of us who had a Crock-Pot to bring it to keep the soup warm.

So, I brought the ginormous Crock-Pot we got for our wedding. The one with digital numbers and beepers and fancy gadgets. The one I bragged about and proudly proclaimed as mine when the other women asked who's it was. The one that has single-handedly turned me into a 60-year old lady at a Baptist potluck. I'm not sure if it's possible to recover from this condition, but I know if I am to recover, I'm pretty sure I will have to refrain from using a Crock-Pot for at least 20 years.

I have found the perfect case for my iPod earphones. An empty Altoids Chewing Gum case. It's cute, small, and now my earphones smell minty fresh!

Saturday night Otis and I attended Evans' Halloween party. Otis and I went as characters from the show "My Name is Earl". Can you guess which ones?

We won 'Most in Character' in the costume contest. Apparently I'm a natural at playing a low class, trashy white girl who lives in a trailer park. Considering my upbringing, that really doesn't surprise me.

A glass of really good red wine.

A plate full of tater tots.

Grey's Anatomy on the TV.

Things could definitely be worse.

Last night Otis and I went with the Juiceboxes to the state capital for the Aggie yell practice in preparations for today's UT/ Texas A&M game. As one of the few non-Aggies in a sea of maroon, it was quite an experience. It made me wish I'd gone to a school with so much spirit.

Anyway, that's not the point of this post. After one of the yells, Mrs. Juicebox leaned over and said "Rick Perry is standing right behind you". And sure enough, I turned around and there stood the Governor of the state of Texas. He is probably one of the most unmistakable faces out there. No question it was him. I felt like I should say something to him, but I was torn between "hi" and "I voted for Kinky", so I opted to stay silent. I would say this experience was a brush with greatness, but I don't think Rick Perry is really that great. So I'll just call it a brush with a man with really great hair.

I am clearly not smart (read nerdy) enough to even begin to understand this webcomic.

But I think my husband probably is

I will admit that I have always had a secret desire for my blog to be famous, a la Dooce. However, after reading her latest entry I think I'm glad it's not, because my skin is just not thick enough to deal with the amount of hate mail she receives on a regular basis.

Apparently she has received mass amounts of hate mail over this post about free range chicken broth, with people hurling insults at her because they clearly lack a sense of irony and are incapable of finding humor in even the simplest things in life. If a person can't enjoy a little joke among family about chicken broth, what have they got left?

This is what is wrong with the world. People are getting angry over chicken broth. CHICKEN BROTH, PEOPLE. If you have the energy to get this upset over something so trivial, then clearly you are not having enough sex. Please go have some. Now.

Venting over the internet. Guaranteed to destroy every relationship you have.

Last Wednesday night Otis and I hit the road for a 17 hour road trip to Knoxville, TN for my cousin's wedding in which I was the Matron Senora of Honor. I've decided to change it to Senora of Honor, because matron is just a horrible word. Nobody ever means that word in a nice way. When you say someone is matronly, you're not giving them a compliment.

About 3 hours into the road trip (10:45pm) I was trying to get some sleep so I could take the next shift, when all of a sudden Otis slammed on the brakes. I popped my head up to see what we were about to hit when I saw a flash of whitish-brown fur fly across the windshield and heard a thud from the drivers side of the car.

"What just happened?"

(Surprisingly calmly) "We hit a deer."

(Trying not to freak out) "ok. ok. ok."

Otis pulled the car off the road in the nearest safe spot he could find and we got out to inspect the car. Here's what we found:

We decided the car was undriveable and began our search for a place to stay, figuring it would be fairly challenging in the tiny East Texas town of Palestine. We finally found a Holiday Inn Express, but were quickly told by the weird front desk lady it was booked, probably with hunters judging by the number of trucks in the parking lot. East Texas is deer hunting country. Clearly the hunters need to try a little harder.

After finding out the hotel was full, we decided it would be best to try driving to a larger town that would have better lodging/car rental/body shop choices. So, we grabbed the iBook and headed back into the hotel to see if we could use their wireless internet to do some research.

Me: "Hi. It's us again. Can we use our laptop to connect to your wireless internet and find a place to stay?"

Weird hotel lady, as she points to the iBook: "Oh, do you have one of those windowless computers?"

Me: "Um, actually yes. And it's also wireless."

She reluctantly granted us permission to use the invisible internet connection on our "windowless" computer. Except it didn't work, so we gave up and used the old fashioned method of a road atlas and some luck, hoping we would find something 50 miles away in Tyler.

Turns out we didn't need technology after all. We found a hotel, body shop, and rental car place all within 2 miles of each other in Tyler. We ended up with a sweet 2007 VW Passat with leather until our car is fixed. The Mazda is getting fixed in Tyler, and the insurance is paying for it. So far the estimate is around $5000.

I'll leave you with some of the stupid questions we've received during this experience, and the answers I would have liked to give to them:

Q: Did you file a police report?
A: Um, no. Why? If I had who would you have charged? Because it was clearly the deer's fault. She ran into us, and we totally had the right of way.

Q: Who's insurance is this going on?
A: The deer's. It's totally going on the deer's.

Q: So, did you pick it (the deer) up and take it to a processing plant?
A: Um, no, because I could totally see a scene from Tommy Boy playing out in the back of our car if we had.

I'm sitting here sipping a Gin & Tonic after a long Christmas Eve day's work, listening to my new KT Tunstall CD, courtesy of Otis via my stocking. My life is good. Better than I could have ever planned, actually.

To all of my friends who have found the happiness they're looking for, I hope you're able to take some time to appreciate it this holiday season. And to all my friends who are still searching, may you find it this coming year. My prayer is for you to experience the same joy God has given me.

I love all of you. Merry Christmas!

This does not make the idea of being pregnant sound any less miserable than I already thought it was. I am growing more and more fond of the idea of adoption. And then we won't have to worry about passing on the head gear and pesky celiac disease.

The other day I, while I was waiting my turn at the chiropractor's office to get my back cracked, I overheard another couple's conversation that was so funny it took every fiber in my body not to laugh outloud. Even still I had to turn around so they wouldn't see the laughter rising up within me. English was clearly not their first language. I'm guessing they were from some South American country. But they were speaking English, I guess since they were filling out new patient forms in English. One of the forms asks a series of questions about your past and current medical history, and this was the subject of their conversation.

M: "Honey, what are painful menses?"
W: "Menses? Menses? I don't know."
M: "Do you think I've ever had painful menses?"
W: "I don't know."

I wanted to offer them help, to stop him before he said anymore, but how do you explain to someone who's first language isn't English what a mense is? And moreover, how do you explain it to a strange man without turning the color of a beet? I figured it would be a little more difficult than explaining what a fajita is to a bunch of Russians. Luckily the doctor walked out just then, so I left the receptionist, who I think was trying intently to pretend she wasn't hearing their conversation, to deal with the situation.

Otis and I have no water in our apartment, and haven't had any since I got home from work at about 4:30. It is now 11:45 and we're having to strategically plan our peeing. If we aren't able to flush soon, I'm going to have to start peeing in the woods just outside our building. Looks like the peeing in the woods shortly after getting engaged was training for married life and not just a very weird follow up to "Yes, I'll marry you."

Two weeks ago I started a class to get my PHR Certification; a class that is totally kicking my butt, by the way. Last week the instructor was sharing a story to illustrate something of relevance to the topic at hand. And while I can vividly remember the illustration, I can't remember what I was actually supposed to learn from it. This should clue you in to how well I'm doing.

Her illustration began with the question, "Have you ever seen a blind person bowl?" Being the sensitive, open-minded individual I am I laughed outloud because, seriously, who would take blind people bowling? This must be a completely hypothetical question and fictional illustration. All I could picture in my head was 8lb bowling balls flying through the air and, in the best case scenario, landing 4 lanes down. That was until she said she actually took some students from the Texas School for the Blind bowling one day and explained the process of helping a blind person bowl. It was about this point in the class that I wanted to crawl into a hole in the ground and disappear for all eternity, because nobody else, I mean NOBODY, made a sound. I don't think anyone else even cracked a smile. This completely astounds me. I know my reaction was a little insensitive and immature, and I'm willing to own that. But I also wonder if being an adult, being professional, means you can't laugh at something that strikes you as funny anymore. Doesn't the idea of letting people who can't see throw 8-10lb objects around a room sound just a little absurd?

I'd really like to know if you agree or disagree with me. Maybe you think I'm completely insensitive, and you probably wouldn't be alone. I'm sure there are 49 other people in my class who would agree with you. I've never had to deal with any disability on any personal level at all, and I would safely say this fact would tend to make me less sensitive than someone who's dealt with it on a regular basis. So, if you feel like giving your feedback and can refrain from personally attacking me, feel free to post your comments.

Recently Mrs. Juicebox asked me why I continue to stay in a situation that seems to be so difficult for me and which I often complain about (much like today). It's a fair question, and one that deserves to be asked by someone who has listened to me bemoan my situation countless times without any change. It made me think about a recent episode of Scrubs in which JD had the revelation that his friends were probably sick of listening to him complain about life's woes, and that he should just learn to suck it up and get on with life. It convicted me just a little.

In thinking about this, I've been trying to figure out what my next step of action should be. I mean, if I'm going to complain so much about something, I should at least try to change the situation in some way, right? But the reality is I don't feel like I'm supposed to change anything right now. No matter how crappy things may get, I really don't feel like it's the right time to change anything right now, at least as far as major situational changes go. I finally feel like I'm gaining some ground in some of the areas that have frustrated me so much, and I've kind of realized that if I wasn't fighting these battles here, I'd be fighting them somewhere else. And they'd probably be a lot harder.

So that's why I'm staying; why I fight the fight every day. Not because it's always great or uplifting or even slightly edifying. I do it because these are the battles I have to fight on this path, whether I like it or not. I could definitley be in much worse places to do it.

The older I get the more I think that by the age of 25-or-so we have experienced most of the emotional wounds we will ever experience in our lives, at least on some level. After that any future hurts merely open old wounds. However, this process can often be more painful than the original wound. Now we not only have to deal with the pain of the newly inflicted trauma, but we also have to deal with all of the pain from the original wound and any subsequent associated traumas. It can be a lot to deal with.

I was recently hurt pretty deeply by someone. I was actually surprised how much this person hurt me, especially considering I hardly know them. I’m over it now, but at the time it was truly one of the more painful things anyone has ever done to me. As I processed through my anger, hurt, and frustration, I realized that a lot of the pain I was feeling was associated with events from my past and how those events had hurt me. It also made me realize that there is still a lot of unresolved bitterness and anger in me over those events, and that I’m probably going to have to address that at some point (like now). It doesn’t mean this person wasn’t a total jerk towards me; it just means that my pain wasn’t solely from this one person’s actions.

It made me kind of mad to accept that a lot of what I was feeling had nothing to do with this person and their actions towards me, because I was really pissed off at them and wanted to blame their horribleness on how I was feeling. To have to shift some of the blame onto un-dealt with baggage from my past meant I had to take some of the responsibility for how I was feeling. It also meant that I had to accept that the saying “people can only hurt you as much as you allow them to” actually has some merit, which makes me even more mad because I think that statement is total crap. At least I did. Now I think it’s only partial crap. Just saying that pisses me off a little.

The reality is I did let this person hurt me as much as they did. I chose to be mad, and for quite some time. It even kept me from sleeping well that night. Eventually (by the next morning) I let it go and decided I wasn’t going to let one person’s crap-laden actions ruin any more of my life. I still don’t like thinking about what happened, and I have no desire to interact with this person if I can help it. But at least it’s not affecting how much I enjoy my day-to-day life, and on a day-to-day basis, that’s what really matters.

I decided to take a quick break from the incessant studying I've been doing for the last 3 days to prepare for my mid-term to share with you another self-realization. I've been having a lot of those lately, which is surprising considering I feel like I've hardly had time to think. If you don't care or are sick of my psychological perusings, feel free to move on to your next blog read. I recommend some of the ones to your right.

Ever since I signed up for this class I've been struggling to handle the extra load it's put on my schedule. Angry and frustrated is probably more appropriate. I think there's even been a childish tantrum or two somewhere along the way. I miss my free time, plain and simple.

Lately, though, I've been struggling with what I think other people must think of my struggles with this class, namely my seemingly complete lack of ability to cope with the load. The thoughts that have been running through my head have been along the lines of "she's such a loser, she can't even handle one class" and "they feel like I'm letting them down" and "they must want to strangle me for complaining about ONE CLASS". Tonight I realized that these feelings I've been thinking others have towards me...those are the feelings I really have about myself.

I do feel like a loser for feeling so overloaded by one class. I mean, this is ME. The one who worked full time and went to school full time and still managed to graduate with honors. I should be able to handle ONE LITTLE CLASS. And I do feel like an ass complaining to my friend who is preparing for the bar exam, and to my other friend who is currently writing her thesis on something that has something to do with RNA. My pressures can't even begin to compare with theirs.

But the reality is all of that crap I went through in undergrad? I never wanted to do it again. Ever. It burned me out, and I'm still burned out. Not to mention the fact that when I was in undergrad I had a job I could leave at work that had minimal responsibility and required little mental exhertion, and I did not have the pressures (self-inflicted, mind you) of maintaining a marriage in the midst of it all.

So, to all my friends, I apologize for putting all of my self-loathing on you. Unless you actually have been thinking some of those things, and then...well, know I'm already covering those bases for you.

My mid-term is over! And afterwards I was rewarded with a 2 hour lecture on employee compensation. What I really heard was something along the lines of Charlie Brown's teacher. "Wa-wa, wa-wa -wa, wa-wa." I totally didn't absorb any of what the instructor said, probably because by 8pm tonight my brain was completely incapable of letting any information in or out.

I am now chasing my mid-term down with a gin & tonic and a bowl of broccoli cheese rice. Partly because that's about all we have to eat in our house, and partly because broccoli cheese rice is TOTALLY AWESOME. Come on...it has rice, and broccoli, and CHEESE. The most fabulous edible substance in the world. The alcohol should be self-explanatory. If I have to explain the broccoli cheese rice any further, then obviously chocolate is your comfort food.

I just had to ask Otis if totally was spelled with one "l" or two. The gin & tonic is officially working.

Otis and I have recently decided we need more living things in our apartment. I'm talking about the green, inanimate types of living things. Nothing that has legs or can poop. God knows we don't need anymore of those living things in our home.

So, this week I'm heading over to Home Depot to purchase some herb and tomato plants, along with some some pretty pots to plant them in. This will not only fulfill the desire for more life in our home (and my secret desire to buy pretty pots), but it will also complete the 'making caprice salad from scratch' circle we started this weeke