I can’t decide if my advancing years are making me more conservative, or they’re just bringing out my feminist side. Maybe, it’s neither – and it’s simply a measure of my strengthening character that allows me to recognize stupidities and address them.

See, I’m a big fan of fark.com. I think the site is a great deal of fun, the stories are often quite interesting, and it’s great to see other people recognize the same absurdities or stupidities in the news or stories that I sometimes see (the DB gets annoyed with me when I’m in one of those particular moods, and wind up telling off all of the commercials).

I’m also a member of totalfark, which is the paid membership area that allows you access to all kinds of ridiculous conversational threads, and some genuinely helpful advice. I’ve gone for computer solutions on a few occasions, and the other members are a great resource, if you can take the snark in stride (sometimes more, sometimes less).

But, like any internet community, there can be a real downside. And of course, I recognize that some people create persona for themselves online, and they get to pretty much role play a character that isn’t their own, and I can respect that. The problem, however, arises when the misogyny gets so thick you can choke on it – and that seems to happen regularly, even in threads that start out having nothing to do with gender relations.

As one example, there was a news-masquerading-as-an-ad article recently (yeah, I read Drew Curtis’ book, and this article personifies said category), wherein a young girl was being promoted as the next J.K. Rowling, based on nothing but her publicists’ hype – the book hadn’t even had a release or anything else, it was all hyperbole to try to drum up advance excitement about the book and get people out to buy it. However, aside from a few commenters focusing on the article’s stupidity, most of the posters were all about whether or not they’d hit the girl – sleep with, that is. The thread degenerated (if I may say so) into a discussion of the girl’s looks, and nothing more.

Now sure, I’m petty enough that I can enjoy this when they’re doing it to celebrities I dislike, but at the same time, I recognize that it’s just kinda sick. Normally I ignore it, or I stop reading the thread, but that day, it just really started to depress me.

I recognize that human beings judge one another based on looks pretty much 100% of the time. I did it when I started my new job – saw all of the attractive people here, all the girls/women who weigh next to nothing, and felt a little envious. I like to think that I don’t treat someone differently if they don’t fit my personal notion of what constitutes attractive, but speaking realistically, I’m sure on some level I do. I’m sure I get treated differently for the same reasons, and that’s just human nature.

But… to be solely reduced to whether or not I’m fuckable is just depressing. Yet I was on many dating sites for a long time, and I’m sure that was the main basis for whether many of the guys contacted me – would they fuck me. Sure, I chose whether or not I would respond to the guys based on whether or not I found them attractive, but interesting ranked up there just as highly. If I couldn’t have a conversation with them, I couldn’t be arsed to continue talking to them.

But I’m drifting. I was not a particularly attractive child. I was fairly shy (shut up, I still very much can be), I was smart, I was insecure, my best friend became one of the pretty, popular ones, and I got picked on – which totally helped the insecurity, I tell you. I wasn’t into sports, and I was always a bit bigger than many of my friends – or maybe I weighed the same as them, but because I was short, it was more noticeable.

Whatever, that was then, right? Now, I’m older, I’m smarter, I’m usually less shy, I’m fairly attractive though definitely not by society’s standards, I’m insecure, I’m not that into sports, and I’m still not in shape – in fact, I can definitely stand to lose weight now. I’ve had people comment that they’re impressed by my self-confidence, but so much of it is put on that I don’t always know where I end and the fake begins.

But it seems to work. In some situations, like job interviews, I have lots of confidence. At work? Well, I have a lot more now that I’m out from under my last boss’ thumb. In my personal life, I’ve been with a great guy for over a year, and it looks like it’s going to carry on being just as strong a relationship as it has been, and that’s great.

And yet… some of my biggest insecurities have come out while we’ve been together. It seems as though the more I like someone, the more insecure I get when I’m with them. How does that make sense? I guess it’s a byproduct of caring – if I care about losing them or whatever, then I’m more paranoid about things.

That said, I do trust the DB, and ultimately, I’m not concerned that he’s going to leave me or cheat on me or any of those things. I’m just apparently rather analytical, and I know I overthink things, and that gets me to where I am now.

I wasn’t a pretty popular girl in elementary school or high school. I have never been overly concerned about fashion, and I definitely don’t have the ‘ideal’ body – too much stomach, hips and thighs. I’ve been told by one ex- that a great deal of my attractiveness stems from my personality – I’m reasonably certain he meant it as a compliment. For the most part, I like my personality and I like who I am.

But sometimes, when I’m surrounded by skinny people, or attractive people, or bombarded with things like that fark thread, I get depressed, and I get frustrated, and the self-doubts and the insecurities come out. I know it’s unrealistic, but sometimes I want that romantic ideal I’ve read so much about, where I am someone’s everything, and they are my everything.

And sometimes I have to back up and short of shake out my brain. Why? Because while I can find someone else attractive or interesting or smart or funny or whatever, I still want to come home to the DB. Why should I assume he feels differently? Perhaps because in my past I dated guys for whom I was a convenience instead of a desired partner. Of course, throw in the strip club lapdance debate and my insecurity level rises exponentially, but…

I don’t know. I know I have unrealistic desires, but that’s the joy of being rational and emotional – my emotions want one thing, and my brain keeps telling them they’re being ridiculous. Like, I’d love it if I could be somewhere where women – or people in general – didn’t have their hittability factor as paramount.

*sigh* I don’t know where I’m going with all of this. At this point, I think I’m just rambling incoherently.

Anyhow, life is still good-ish. Some stress about school, some waiting on job news… otherwise, it carries on. Though I think I finally got my phone working fully, so that’s nice.

Hokay. Time for a life update before I get into the introspective emo stuff.

First, a few weeks ago, the DB and I visited his little nephew, and nephew’s parents (i.e., his brother and sister-in-law). We had a lovely visit, the nephew, aged a whole 3 ½ weeks at the time, was very cute and very easy-going, and I spent lots of time, along with everyone else, holding him and talking stupid to him, and all of that. The DB’s parents were also present (Mamère and Papère were very happy to see their first grandchild), and Papère said to DB at one point that he’d best watch out – this was upon seeing me with little nephew sleeping on my chest while I was stretched out on the couch. I assured him that my biological clock only ticks about once a year at this point, and while yes, it was ticking now, there was no strong urging going on. Babies are cute, right now I think kittens are cuter, and I’m quite happy to have neither.

We flew back in on a Tuesday night, to the tune of a screaming child for the length of the 4 hour flight. Any biological clock I might’ve had going on was very quickly turned off as a result. Arrived around midnight, greeted the kitties, off to bed.

Cue Wednesday morning, where I started my new job. This was what I was alluding to previously – new job. Free from the shackles of the past and all that, chances to form new opinions, get treated with respect, be appreciated, etc., etc., etc. I almost don’t recognize myself anymore, in that I’m not angry, I’m not tense and paranoid, and I don’t hate nearly everyone in my eyesight. It’s amazing how things can turn around.

That first week, despite being only three days long, was a fairly long one, not aided by the lack of sleep, major PMS and migraines I was experiencing, and the general stress of a new job.

Wednesday night I arrived home, had a bit of time to greet the DB, and then just took it easy for awhile. I did notice however that Venus was acting oddly. She wasn’t really responding to being pet – not moving into it or away from it, not purring, nothing – and she had no appetite, would stay still when held, would stay in one place if you set her down there, and so on. I, in my ever-rational state of mind, particularly as it concerns my kitties, went from being somewhat concerned to being convinced that she was dying of cancer.

The DB came home, and I expressed my concerns (and at this point, I had cried a little but was holding it together), and he tried to soothe me by saying that maybe she was just feeling quiet or some such. When I told him she wouldn’t even take chicken, her absolute favourite treat in the world, he also showed some concern.

I went upstairs to bed, and took Venus with me, placing her on the bed. She ended up curled up on the DB’s side, while I tried to curl up near her, but not crowding her. I also bawled my eyes out for maybe a half hour, repeating my belief that my cat was dying of cancer or some other fatal disease, and so on. Rational to a fault, I am.

When the DB came to bed, he managed to make some space for himself, moving her slightly – she ended up stretched out between us – but couldn’t get enough covers. So he went downstairs to sleep on the couch so that the kitties and I could have the bed for ourselves. I’m still using this story to illustrate that he’s incredible, even if he drives me mental, and will probably do so for some time to come.

When I got up the next morning, the DB stole back into the bed, and Venus stayed there with him. We were both able to get some purrs out of her, so I felt better. I went to work, booked her a vet appointment for Friday just in case, and picked up some baby food on my way home to try to tempt her. The DB was off the rest of the week, so he was able to keep her company.

She ate some baby food, she ate some kitty food, she made her point that she was pissed at me for being away and then not having a weekend or something to pamper her upon my return. I’m still not sure quite what happened, but she was back to herself a day or two later. Little bugger.

Thena, incidentally, is perfectly fine and her usual goofy self. The two of them have been struggling a little – much like the people in the house – with the heat, but there’s a possibility that they figured out last night that sleeping in the basement is cooler. I know they were both down there in the morning when I got up, but that might’ve just been because they have to watch me in the morning, lest I try to sneak out without feeding them. They have their priorities – and they’re valid concerns, given that I have left without feeding them once or twice.

As far as everything else in life is concerned, there’s nothing too major going on. The DB and I have recently started talking about buying a house together, and I raised the issue of how this represents a major commitment, and maybe we should talk about the other major commitment. He asked me which one, with a grin on his face, and I said I was concerned we might have the sex, and that would change things. Men.

So no, no rings, no babies, no mortgages… yet. We’ve talked in the past of how he doesn’t like to be pushed, how he does think about the same things I do but doesn’t necessarily bring them up (which was evidenced when he started telling people that he’d been looking at condo listings with the idea of renting them out to pay the mortgage), and how I usually am the one to bring things up before he does – though he still thinks of them, too. What this means for future commitments, I don’t know. At this stage, there are still things that I’m biting my tongue on, but I’m thinking that’ll have to stop soon. After all, few people get far in life sitting around waiting for good things to happen.

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So yeah, a post a month seems a pretty reasonable number compared to before. Right? Yeah, right.

It's not like I don't have things to say -- my brain is filled on a regular basis with inane rants and trivialities with which to entertain my (one?) reader(s). But yet after spending all day in front of a computer, trying to look busy and thrilled with the tasks I've been given, I seem to have a hard time doing the same when I get home -- especially when there are things like baby blankets to finish knitting, video games that require playing, and cats that don't understand "get out of my lap Mommy's busy." Oh, I can't wait until I have kids.

All of that said and done, here I am. One of the major factors in my not updating lately has been insane amounts of stress and frustration associated with my place of employment. And since I long ago instituted a policy of not discussing my work in anything but the most general terms online, well, it really left me with very little to say -- other than perhaps stupid little cryptic comments that led the world to believe that I was still alive. Voila, a contribution.

However, the light at the end of the tunnel appears to be a positive one, for a change, instead of the oncoming train. I can't say much at this point, since I don't yet have the concrete details in place, but I should have a good announcement to make possibly even later today.

On the personal front, the Dear Boyfriend and I are a week away from our one year anniversary -- which also marks six months of cohabitation. There have been tears, and swears, and other complaints at times, but there's also been the joy of getting to go to bed beside someone I like somewhat on a regular basis, which overrides the rest of it -- except when it's 4 a.m. and I'm lying there awake listening to his weird irregular sleep breathing wondering if I'm ever going to be able to fall asleep again... however, he claims I snore (though in a delicate, feminine manner), so I guess I get him back sometimes. We've been discussing how we'd like to celebrate our anniversary, and we have a bit of a one and a half-day thing planned; he's suggesting paintball on the Sunday (the actual date), and it's up to me to pick the Saturday activities. So far, my suggestion has been dinner and a comedy club, or Iron Man, which opens that weekend. We are truly too cool for school.

The kitties continue to do well. Now that the snow has finally abated (I guess my offers of anal sex were tempting after all), the backyard is pretty clear, though a bit damp, and Thena is able to enjoy the outdoors on pretty much a daily basis. On one of the nice days, I set out a canvas folding chair -- for me, originally -- and now that's Thena's regular perch when she goes outside. No one would say my cats are spoiled, for certain.

I've had some interesting conversations on relationships as of late as a result of a number of different things going on, some of which are mine to discuss and some aren't. I realized the other night that it's been over 6 years since JJ and I dated, and he's getting married very shortly, which is great. The guys have gone to the strip clubs the past two weeks, which has resulted in my doing some introspection on where I stand on strip clubs and how they can affect relationships -- and it's led me to realize that on some issues, I'm just not as progressive as I like to think I am.

In principle, and in a relationship, I have no issue with strip clubs. I'd have a problem with it if my significant other was interested in going on a weekly basis, for example, but as a once-in-awhile thing, no big deal. Let's face it, I have excellent high speed internet access in my house; if someone wants to look at naked ladies, they don't have to go out to a club to do so.

Where my issues come into play is in the arena of lap dances. Now see, I've never had a lap dance myself, either from a male or female dancer (and yes, I've been to both kinds of clubs). Again, on principle, I have no issue with lap dances. I understand that's where the bulk of a dancer's take-home pay/salary originates. Where I start getting uncomfortable is the area of another woman touching my significant other, and/or him touching another woman -- as it's been told to me that it's pretty much a free-for-all as far as touching goes, though some places will say only the girls may touch the guys. I wouldn't enjoy my significant other touching another woman (or another woman touching my significant other, especially with the intention of arousing him) outside of a strip club, so why it is suddenly supposed to be acceptable to me when money changes hands?

Which leads me to the next point -- my irrational brain, when presented with the idea of my significant other purchasing a lap dance, turns the notion into, "I find this girl attractive and would like to spend my money to have access to her boobs and have her grind on me," and I don't particularly care for that notion. I like to delude myself that I'm the one that he finds attractive and none other, so...

And I know that last point isn't a fair one; after all, there are guys I encounter that I find attractive, so I don't expect my significant other to be blind to the charms of other women. Hell, in the last year alone, I've met two different guys that, had it not been for the Dear Boyfriend, I would've been interested in pursuing. I hardly claim to be a saint, and I think the blogs I've written attest to that fact. But, because I care about the DB and have no interest in pursuing something different, it's a non-issue to me. They were very lovely guys whose company I greatly enjoyed, and it certainly didn't hurt that they were both quite easy on the eyes.

That said, this is not a trust issue with me in the least. I trust the Dear Boyfriend implicitly, and even in my insane moments of paranoia (of which this was not one), I know that he cares about me and would not cheat on me. It's simply that I would like his hands to be on my body and not that of someone else's, especially if it's in a sexual environment.

And this is a sentiment that goes both ways. In our discussion on this subject (I'm sure you can tell this lengthy diatribe stemmed from one, or is practically a transcription of one), I stated that I had no problem with him going to strip clubs, and I would never ask him not to go to one, or even not to get a lap dance; I just didn't have to enjoy the idea of it, and asked how he'd feel in the reverse situation. We've both acknowledged there are things that the other does that aren't the most comfortable for one another -- my semi on-going friendship with an ex- being his example -- but we wouldn't ask the other to stop the behaviour, as we trust one another and know that isn't the issue.

I was asked if I'd rather he had lied about it, and I told him no. I would rather know the truth and know that I can trust that what he said to me was the truth, rather than have him try to spare my feelings. I can always come up with something worse than the reality, so I've always wanted to know even the bad news to its fullest extent.

I also realized that in my past dating history (extensive as it certainly is), I've had relationships where I probably wouldn't have cared if the boyfriend in question had lap dances or not. Hell, I'm fairly certain that towards the end of my relationship with the UBFM, he was cheating on me, and I really don't care at this point (yeah, yeah, especially as it ended nearly ten years ago -- even then, it was pride that was involved, nothing more). It seems as though when I genuinely care about someone, that's when I care about their actions. Maybe this is when I should trust them more, which I do, but I just don't seem the type of person to be dismissive of the 'intimacy' of lap dances and other things like that, much as maybe I should be, given my progressive nature in many other areas of life.

It's been an interesting time, learning about myself through living with someone else. For example, I learned that at my last place, I was a borderline slob as far as the cat hair everywhere went. We discussed it before we moved in together, and as he wanted the place vacuumed on a near-daily basis (or three times a week, which realistically translates into once a week), the Dear Boyfriend took on that role. But don't worry, I do the bulk of the cooking as compensation -- with the resulting dish cleaning. He takes out the trash, I get the mail and bring the trash cans back in usually. I'm trying to wean him away from doing laundry, as it often results in disaster (such as him washing his passport about a week after our return from Cuba), but so far no luck. It's mainly because he has fewer clothes than me, so needs them more often -- whereas, in combination with my stocked freezers and pantry, I could outlast nuclear winter with my clothes.

Anyhow, speaking of laundry, I meant to get some started, so I think I'll head off for that now. Exciting things are on the horizon (other than laundry, I mean), and right now, I'm in denial about them.

I really hate when I'm being stupid and/or hypocritical, and I know it rationally, and yet... same goes with passive-aggressiveness. I hate it in other people, yet I know I can be just as prone to it, and I hate it when I do it.

Maybe that's why I hate it so much in other people -- because it's a trait I recognize within myself that I hate.

Argh. I hate being an idiot.

I laughed at this -- and it's not a RickRoll.

Dear Mother Nature,

Saturday morning, when I went out to shovel the 15cm of snow you’d granted us Friday evening, I was considering offering you anal sex as a way of convincing you to stop. That’s a pretty big deal, you see, especially since the Dear Boyfriend and I don’t practice anal sex.

However, by the time I completed my shovelling – then went back to shovel some of what you were giving me as I was shovelling – I felt as though I’d already been anally-raped by you, and was feeling a bit less generous. That was with me having to go back over some of what I’d done when I first started. Then the Dear Boyfriend shovelled that evening when he got home from work. Then we got snowed in at his cousin’s place, and came home to… well, you know.

I confess, I cried when I tried to get through a lot of it. I couldn’t figure out where to put the snow, on snowbanks already above my head. I couldn’t figure out how to deal with having no place to stand to start on the walkway or the driveway, beyond the patio that I’d already cleared. I didn’t enjoy the novelty of standing in snow that was well past my knees, especially as I knew I had to move that snow somewhere. And I didn’t enjoy the fact that my back hurt, I was exhausted, and coming down with a cold from the plague twins at my office.

But I managed. I managed to clear a one-shovel-width path from our front door to the driveway. I even managed to clear a wider than one-shovel-width path from the top of our driveway to the foot. As the DB was at work, dealing with the lack of staff, I made the executive decision to start piling the snow against the garage. It seemed to work, in that it wasn’t under my feet anymore.

This morning, when I went to catch my bus to work, I was heartened at the fact that a path seemed to have been stomped for me already, as the city hasn’t yet seen fit to clear the path properly. However, that path turned right, towards the shopping complex; only brave and hearty souls had ventured forward, towards the bus stop – which, curiously enough, had a higher snowbank than anywhere else along that road. Granted, it was a novelty to stand six feet in the air and try to decide whether or not to cross the street for the bus (it loops around near me), or stay where I was… but I was also afraid that any moment, I’d sink into the snow below me and wind up with a boot, sock and pantleg full of the miserable stuff.

So, thank you Mother Nature, for your bounty and blessing. If this has anything to do with me leaving you behind when I went to Cuba, I apologize. I did miss you, if only because I assumed you’d be taking your winter wonderland away and blessing us once more with summer, or at the very least, spring. I brought you back some presents, but I’m afraid that since, at the moment, we don’t appear to be speaking – for some reason, I feel as though you’re upset with me – I’m not sure they’ll be properly appreciated. I do hope you’ll see fit towards forgiving me soon, as I do enjoy your company… and especially your sense of humour.

Love,
jen

I don't know what to think when it comes to you.

Okay, I vaguely remember what this place looks like.

Gah. I keep setting updating goals for myself, and then I start a post full of awesome stories about my cats and how much I adore them and how adorable they are and all that other stuff you love to read, and then I get sidetracked, or I get given work to do, of all things, and the post either languishes in the 'draft' folder or it just doesn't look as good anymore, or I can't put the words on paper.

Screen, whatever.

I'm taking two classes right now in an attempt to get back into my school mode (and move from the thesis option to the research paper), and I've written three papers so far for the class. The first was just a critique of some readings we did, but the second was a research proposal that I completed on Thursday, and the last was a discussion of trends in the alternative dispute resolution field that I wrote in an hour and a half. It's probably crap, but they're all done and turned in, which is the important thing.

All of this to say that between the turbo writing for school and some writing/re-writing I'm doing for work, I seem to once again be getting unblocked. I know pretty much every post I write lately seems to consist of the same thing, but there it is.

Anyhow, one of the other reasons I wanted to update today is because I'm leaving for Cuba in about 8 hours, and I'm not expecting to have any kind of internet access while I'm away -- but there will be photos and so on galore upon my return, especially since the DB has purchased a digital camera of his own, and I'm bringing mine. Of course, I may be too busy sleeping on the beach to be willing to rouse myself for pictures, but I'll make the effort. :)

Otherwise, I don't seem to think there's much to say. The kitties are funny, Venus has finally started to relax again around the house and boss us around. She likes to have her little freak outs around 11:30 at night, when we're either both occupied with computer/television, or I'm trying to get ready for bed. She's back to being talkative and demanding, and as annoying as it can be at times, I'm really pleased to see it. Thena has reverted to her kitten habits of waking me up 20 minutes before my alarm is set to go off, if she hasn't already done it sometime in the middle of the night. *sigh*

I realized yesterday that it had officially been four years ago that I brought Thena home -- Valentine's Day in my first apartment. She was a tiny little bundle of fluff that nuzzled my chin and purred and rolled around on my chest as I laughed and cried out of happiness for my new little kitten. I'd debated naming her Valentine and calling her Tiny for short, but I waited to see what personality would emerge, and I wanted to go with something Greek-themed. I liked the name Thena (from Athena, if you've never picked up on it), and while I didn't initially pick it for the warrior goddess associations, it certainly proved to be true. :P Thena Demon Beast is her extended name, when she's annoying me.

One of these days I'll get around to updating my flickr account with the photos that are currently in my buzznet account, but today is not the day for that.

Anyhow, I'm going to wrap this up here. I'll be back in a week, full of pictures, Cuban food, possibly a sunburn, and lots of booze. Enjoy the cold and snow. ;)

Dear people of the world:

If you put it on the Internet, it's not private. This applies to everything from UseNet to blogs to Livejournal to Facebook to picturesofmyass.com. If you choose to make information publically available, even if your definition of 'public' is 'one other person,' if it involves the Internet in any way, you have thereby given up all rights or expectations to privacy.

If you're worried about people googling your name and turning up nefarious activities, don't use your real name. If someone writes in the "How do you know this person?" section of Facebook something that implies you two have had sex and you don't want the world to know, don't accept it. Or, perhaps, don't add them as a friend. Or get over your prudish self. Or something, I don't know. But if you put it online or allow it to happen, get over yourself when someone else finds out.

Signed,
Someone who's tired of explaining this over and over again.

Secondly, things I learned at Microplay (a used video game store):
It's not always necessary to buy the largest memory card available for use in your PSP. For example, as long as you're not downloading tonnes of music or saving UMDs (universal media discs -- game/movie cartridges used in the PSP) directly to your memory card, a 1 gig will more than likely be plenty large for you. For example, if you look at this here game, you can see that it only requires 512kb -- that's kigabytes -- worth of space to save. There's one hundred kigabytes in a megabyte, and either a hundred or a thousand megabytes to a gigabyte... so it'll be quite awhile before you use it up.

Fortunately, she wasn't addressing this to me, and I was too amused and apathetic to jump in and correct her.

Okay, so I've already blown my semi-serious intention of updating more regularly; go me.

Christmas went well at the homestead, with a nice combination of hectic and quiet. I did a lot of housework (this is where friends and coworkers alike have said I'm turning into a good housewife/domestic person/Martha Stewart, though where they're getting that last one I'll never know), and I snuggled the kitties, did some crafts and spent time with friends. Maybe not as much as I might've liked, but it was good to see Andrea and the Arrogant Bastard (not together), and later Heather and a few other faces, new and recognized.

I'm starting back up classes this semester, and tomorrow is actually my first class. For those not in the know, I pancaked on my thesis portion of the masters' degree, so now I'm picking up two more classes and going back to work on a research paper. By the fall, or end of fall semester (i.e., by this time next year), I should have my masters degree. If not, well, I fail ultimately.

Merry Christmas and happy other holidays, everyone!

(A picture of the kitties and us will hopefully be here later. For now, prepping for the next few days/hours of craziness must ensue).

With lots of additional love from ^..^ & ^..^

Canadian revenge:

This idiot's been parked at the end of our driveway for a few days. There's been an overnight parking ban in effect. I think most of this is the plow, but I don't think the DB made too much of an effort to avoid piling snow on his car as he shovelled our driveway.

I'm thinking of printing out the overnight parking regulations and leaving them on his windshield, just to rub it in a little.

Normally I don't care much at all about celebrities, but this is pretty upsetting:

Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's.

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I’m going to write something that’s going to come off as extremely arrogant, and there really doesn’t seem to be a better way to express it.

I’m a relatively intelligent person. This has its advantages and disadvantages, one of the chief among them being that sometimes, I smart myself out of doing things – like fad diets (for the most part; I did try South Beach for two weeks), or other potentially self-destructive actions.

One of these self-destructive actions happens to be passive-aggressive behaviour. It’s interesting when I can see myself contemplating something that I recognize to be passive-aggressive, and having to fight the urge to follow through with it. Sometimes, I’m successful – other times, I give in, even when I know the whole time that it’s stupid.

I know this would be more exciting with examples, but the best I can really do is something like not talking to someone because I’m mad at them, or doing something deliberately to upset someone – I really don’t have anything juicy to relate at this moment, unfortunately. It’s just something that came up recently where I was irrationally upset with the DB for something likely stupid and didn’t really speak to him for a few hours as a result. As a general rule, I will speak up when something upsets me, because I don’t want to let frustrations fester, and this is a behaviour I’ve been practicing for a number of years.

Other times, I bottle things up (hello, work!), and then get annoyed to pieces except when I vent to other coworkers. Case in point? If my boss announces to anyone one more time that I’m going to be the next person on our floor who’s pregnant (although that’s already passed, so hah!), I’m going to tell her… I don’t know what. One coworker said that I should tell her to stay out of my vajayjay, which then became my vajenjen. *sigh* I want to tell her that I/the DB is sterile, that we’re against children, that he’s Catholic and so doesn’t believe in sex before marriage… my mom pointed out that most religions are the same way, but I told her that since I’m not religious that it doesn’t really carry the same weight. Maybe I’ll just tell her I’m not having kids until after I’m married; given that she and her husband aren’t actually married (and she generally avoids calling him her husband as a consequence), maybe that’ll get her off the subject.

In other news, I’m actually completely and totally done my Christmas shopping. I’ve given my aunt the gifts for the Nova Scotia branch of the family, my mom has the gifts for my New Brunswick relatives (i.e., my nanny), the family gifts are at my parents’ place, and everything is purchased for the DB and his folks. I still have to finish the scarf for his mom, and I’d like to knit up something for his brother and sister-in-law, but that’s really it. If you’d like to receive a Christmas card (I have to mail out *something* on the 24th, after all!), feel free to contact me via email (litterboxjen at yahoo dot ca) to get a card. I have a selection of cat cards, and this year’s new acquisition (and theme, it seems): penguin cards. Oooh! I promise not to use your mailing address to sign you up for anything *too* awful.

I haven't the faintest what I did on Saturday, but I borked my ankle something nice. It looks fine, but feels horrid -- keeping it elevated is about the only thing that keeps it from aching (and even that, not all the time), and trying to straighten it or turn it to the side sucks. *sigh*

What did I do on Saturday? I got up at 10, ran around getting myself ready, had a massage for an hour, then went home and played video games all afternoon. Granted, I'm incompetent enough that I can get a sliver from dried chocolate, but seriously, a borked-out ankle from sitting on a couch all afternoon? It's about time to give up on my body, 'cause I think it's thrown in the towel.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about various relationship-related issues over the last few days. I had dinner with the AB the other night; it was the first time we'd seen each other in about 8 months. Oddly... the evening went fairly well, but it's left me with various memories and other thoughts over the last few days. Good memories, but... hrm.

Several months ago, the DB had a dream that I was cheating on him, and it bothered him when he woke up. Understandable; I've had some crappy dreams myself. Well, sometime last week, I had a dream that he was being hard-core pursued by a nursing student, who hated me because I was with him -- and he was considering leaving me for her (which he told me in the dream). Often when I wake up, he wakes up too, and so I shared this dream with him. His response? "Only one? Nursing students always travel in packs of four." Yeah, we have different methods of reassuring each other. :P

Although, to be honest, I'm the one regularly sticking my foot in my mouth. I had a cold last week, and now the DB's dealing with it. Coincidentally, the AB has a cold as well -- so I told DB last night that if it made him feel better, the AB had a cold too, and I was claiming responsibility. Apparently, telling your boyfriend that you're claiming responsibility for an ex-boyfriend's cold isn't all that reassuring. Who knew?

I have to admit, I'm impressed with myself a bit this year. I've managed to finish pretty much all of my Christmas shopping, and I spent time yesterday wrapping everything. I still have to pick up a gift card for the DB's father, finish the scarf I'm working on for the DB's mom, and get some keychains for my uncle, but I'm miles ahead of where I normally am this time of year. Many of the gifts that I'm giving people came from the two craft shows I went to (including the citrus sea salt that I bought for the DB and gave to him early). I don't feel that I have any real "wow" gift for the DB, but I'm just going to have to accept that I might not find something of the sort -- especially since he's being no help whatsoever for ideas ("I don't want anything; save the money you'd spend on my gift for our trip"). Ah well.

In other news, work is driving me insane, bit by bit. I make a practice of not discussing work on my blog so as to minimize any kinds of problems, but let's just drop one big hint that sort of summarizes things: one of my coworkers (who pulls shit like this daily), went into my boss' office, crying, because she disagreed with how I'd placed commas and hyphens in a document that she had originated and I'd edited for web-posting/completeness.

Oh, how I wish I were kidding... god, some days I seriously miss retail.

It takes a special person to give themselves a splinter from dried chocolate.

Fortunately for me, I am that special person.