I won!! I won!!

I won!! I won!! I won!! I am the proud owner of a Slice of Life "Bunnies" mug. It's an incredibly scarce piece -- I've only seen it on eBay once before. I won! I won! I won! I paid $28.99 plus shipping for a mug that retailed for $8.00 a few years ago!! Aren't I lucky?

Missing Moments

Other people have them. I know they do, I've caused a few of them myself. I gave Charles L. a "secret admirer" valentine in 5th grade. I bought S a couple of unexpected presents that made him cry. All my boyfriends got handmade Valentine's cards. I've given men chocolate, and flowers and compliments. I've made mix tapes. And written poetry.

In return I've received . . . nothing. No man has ever done anything even remotely romantic for me. I've never been serenaded, never had a love letter, never received a Valentine, not even a freaking Hershey's bar. I'm thirty-seven years old, and no one has ever bought me flowers.

I'm not a baby, I know life isn't fair, but you'd think just once someone would go all out for me. Everyone else gets this kind of treatment, even R who didn't want it. So why can't I? Just once?

Gods, I have VDay jealousy bad, and it's still two weeks away.

(10 PM)

E and I worked on Trig homework and then went to dinner. We discussed the huge upheavals in E's life, and my continued dating paralysis. E's take on my poor "why me" situation, on why I'm 37 and no man has ever bought me flowers, is interesting.

He said it's a little weird to go into a restaurant with me and have me open the door myself, march right up and announce how many people are in the party and whether we want smoking or non-smoking. And something about me ordering food wrong, but I can't remember what exactly. And I guess I should have let R buy dinner occasionally, though in retrospect I'm glad I didn't since all those dinners I was thrilled about didn't mean a damn thing to him.

It feels weird to me that people even notice that kind of stuff. Oh, I know the who-buys-dinner thing is still sensitive, but honestly, does it really matter who arranges the seating in a restaurant? And the first person to the freaking door should just freaking open it, so everyone can get into the restaurant a little quicker.

But then again I buy men flowers, so what the fuck do I know?

Ambition Blues

I've been working on a new organization system, and while I love the system (nice candy colors, incredibly slim, streamlined, and small) it has given me a bad case of the blues.

First off, why candy colors? Why an I so attracted to bright, cheerful colors? Me, with the black/brown/navy wardrobe, the pulled-back almost Victorian hair, and the sensible shoes? Why don't my insides match my outside, and should this worry me? Of course it is worrying me, whether or not it actually should. I'm afraid people really do see exactly what is in front of them -- middle-aged and boring -- instead of what I want them to see. I keep pretending my hair makes up for everything, but a constrained hairstyle = constrained personality.

And why am I attracted to slim, modern things? Based on appearances I should be all overstuffed chairs and quilts and baking recipes. I should have trouble using technology. I look comfortable, not discombobulated. Married, not single. I do not look like what I am.

Or maybe I don't really know what I am.

I'm also upset because my new organizational system has left me with eighteen things on my to-do list. OK, so that really isn't that much. It feels like a lot, especially since about half of those items are 1+ hours of critical thinking and writing. There really shouldn't be so many things, but I lost a full day working on the new organizational system.

And today an older colleague whose opinion I respect today pretty much told me I didn't have enough stuff on my to-do list. I'm not playing the Game enough to get what I want. I'm not going to training sessions, I'm not participating in leadership sessions, etc. Yes, I need to play the Game more, but I'm not good at the game. And playing the Game results in additional responsibilities that probably overshadow whatever gains I could make. And it's not like I can get a performance-based raise, and it's not like I want to move into administration.

The problem, I guess, is that I want to be a leader but I don't want to work at it. I'm jealous of the leaders. I don't know why, particularly, but I am. At least part of it is that the leaders get their agendas promoted, while I don't get anything promoted. I can't even get Animated Algebra to make. I tried being a leader when I was first hired full-time. I joined some power committees, I volunteered for District committees, and tried to get my voice heard.

But I'm lazy. I don't review every document I should read. I don't return all the phone calls, or stay on top of my email. I get wrapped up in stupid things like designing a candy-colored organizational system, and let the rest of the world hang until I'm finished. And I do what I want to do, not necessarily what needs to be done. Not exactly the trademarks of a leader.

I thought maybe switching jobs could make me happier, but I'd probably have these same issues wherever I go. Gods, I hate revelations like this. Now that I have all this information I have to actually do something with it.

Take Goddess Dazzling Love

Fat lot my fridge knows. Dazzling love. Humph.

Getting ready to start an "I Hate Firefox" campaign. I used to be a diehard Firefx advocate, but it won't let me cut-and-paste into Blackboard for stupid security reasons. There is a non-working workaround, but no real solution.

So I'm switching permanently to IE7. I can't believe I'm even contemplating IE, let alone actually upgrading.

Blue Man Cry Now

It's freezing outside, literally, with ice expected at any moment. Today's big event (so far) was going to the store for sandwich fixings, and forgetting the bread.

Guilt

I just did the most selfish thing I have ever done in my academic career. I cancelled a class with seven students. A class I could have saved and taught myself.

I feel guilty, but not guilty enough to teach the class. It's an 8 AM class meeting three days a week, and so far it looks like I'll be on campus at least three nights a week teaching night classes. I don't like what a morning/night split does to my schedule. I have to take a nap in the afternoon to be on my toes in the evening classes. That nap makes it harder to sleep at night, so I don't feel awake enough for the morning classes. Last semester I felt like a cat chasing its tail. So this semester I've chosen my own well-being over that of my students and cancelled the class.

I still feel guilty. And I'm going to miss the money I could have made on the class. But I think I need regular hours more than I need money.

(later)

Walked past the refrigerator this evening and was reminded of the day's fridge fortune: Today Evil Girl Stay. Yup, selfish.

Mass Grows to Occupy Space

It never fails. I leave my desk and my miserably low class counts, go upstairs to register for trigonometry, and when I get back to my desk the 8:00 AM class has made. It went from four students to ten in the space of two hours.

I'm not allowed to have a free semester, am I? Time off, the universe feels, is a bad thing.

Now if we can just get the adjunct's classes to make.

Power of Positive Thinking

Since I'm trying to find more signs in my life I asked facade.com's stichomancy program what would make me feel better this evening. Here is the response:

" . . . classical commentators on procedure do not dream of the possibility of revision in the case of acquittals, and yet, as Majno justly says, ``even if he has profited by false witness, forged documents, intimidation or corruption of a judge, or any other offence, the acquitted person calmly enjoys his boast, and can even plume himself on his own share in the business without fear of being put on his trial again.'' The Austrian and German codes of procedure admit revision in cases of acquittal; and the positive rule in this connection ought to be that a case should be re-heard when the sentence of condemnation or acquittal is evidently erroneous. "

I'm trying to find something in there to make me feel better, and the only part of it I can see is the part about boasting for a crime you've been acquitted for.

Here is my 'acquittal boast:'

MMmmm. I don't have one. I've been staring at a blank screen for about fifteen minutes. I don't think I've ever knowingly done anything like that, other than blaming the Internet for loosing emails I never sent.

This is such a dull entry. Why am I even bothering to post any longer?

(hours later)

I guess, too, that sometimes I try to blame R. for how I feel. He isn't the problem. I am.

Karma

After watching yet another Grey's Anatomy episode I've decided R is karma. He's the universe paying me back for my best friend MH, who fell in love with me but who I didn't love back, even though I tried. I knew M about three years, and I'm going on my third year of hell with R, so this all fits, doesn't it?

I'm babbling because I have to see R tomorrow. Seeing him makes me happy, and I DON'T WANT TO BE HAPPY!!! I don't want to start glowing, or hoping, or anything. I want to save all my happiness and all my heart for someone who actually wants them. Wants me.

School Blues

I had a horrible day at work. My dream class, Animated Algebra, was canceled. The eBay store project encountered a new roadblock. Three bread-and-butter classes aren't making, leaving me with a lighter-than-normal load, and (worse) I might have to lay off an adjunct.

Things are so bad that I'm considering taking trigonometry so I can go back to school and start a new career.

(sigh) This is all so stupid. I need to do something fun. OK, I think I'll go to the mall and try to see Casino Royale. Maybe, if I'm very careful, I won't mis-read the start time today.

I was going to write about my bedroom, but I just don't have the freaking energy.

(later)

Took a nap, missed the start of Casino Royale. Probably a good thing. I'd just imagine R. was with me while standing in line, and in reality even if we did end up seeing the same show at the same time he wouldn't think we should watch it together, let alone put his arm around me. I'll go this weekend, after the Saturday admissions session. Saturday in the spring is usually crazy, and I've picked up students by just being up in the admissions area.

So I'm working on the prints for the bedroom. How do you tell a color copier to re-size an image so it fits inside a 6 and 7/16" window mat? There has to be a way to do this. Three of my four Ruben Toledo bombshell pictures are just a little too big, so I need to size them down. There has to be a way to do this. I can remember big dial-like thing from my days at the newspaper, but that was someone else's job. I just took the photos, and never touched the layout boards.

Target Feels My Pain

Target knew all about it. Target knew I have a dead mouse somewhere in my house (again), and that I had planned to go to see Casino Royale by myself but misread the time and arrived at theater half an hour too late. Target knew I couldn't get into On The Border (45 minute wait). Target even know I sat in the parking lot of Cool River, daring myself to go in and have a drink or three, and that I lost the dare.

Target must have known. Knew I decided to buy (and then cry over) the second season of Gray's Anatomy. Knew I would be hitting their doors at a near run, promising to spend exactly five minutes in the store.

Why else would Target stock so many new things for me to look at? I was there over an hour. Good-bye Christmas! Good-bye hated bright red and dark green! Hello Waverly!! Cannot believe how sophisticated that new bedding line is! And hell-o Thomasville! I didn't even know you made picture frames. Loved the Valentine's Day stuff -- pink is such a pleasant change from Rudolph Red.

And best of all, especially for me -- this year's Global Bazaar. They were still stocking the shelves. I wanted to volunteer to help, just to stay and look at everything. A wonderland of silk and shells and inlay, ivory and exotic woods, enamel, and embroidery. So much to look at, so many beautiful colors, so many details and care. I love Global Bazaar. I especially like the week after Valentine's Day when they clearance the hell out of the stuff. I have my eye on a throw pillow from India.

Thank you, Target. Thanks for giving me something new to see. Visual stimulation, going straight into the blood stream, straight into my heart. I almost forgot to buy Grey's Anatomy. Almost. I did remember. After all, I'm a professional.

(later)

Damn, I do love Grey's Anatomy. Sorta. This whole Meredith/Derrick thing mirrors, at least to an extent, how I feel about R. Of course we never had sex, and R doesn't give a flying flip about me, but the professional aspect -- having to see him at work, even as occasionally as I see R -- is the same.

I've never gone through a pseudo-breakup like this. Hell, I've never . . . . there are so many unhappy firsts here. He's the first guy I've ever been interested in who hasn't been thrilled to be with me. (OK, not counting high school.) I know that sounds stupid, coming from someone who looks like me, but it's true. And he's the first man (and the last) I ever made a fool of myself over. Ever got drunk and cried about. He's the first (and last) crush I've ever tried to be friends with. Not that he was capable of that. And he's the first I was forced to see again after total rejection. I think I could have been over this if I didn't have to work with him. I really wish that job had panned out. I want an excuse to never see him again.

Gods, I so want to be over this. I want to never think about him again. I want to be happy. But I have to see him again, and I just can't make myself believe what he said. I wish I could believe he isn't interested. I wish all the sheer stupidity fueling my heart could instead fuel my head, and propel me in a new direction.

Ring Eastern Star Take

Another dud fortune, unless the ring has something to do with the game of ring-around-the-rosy I've been fighting all day.

Today's confusion centers around a jewelry storage/display unit from Pottery Barn Teen that I've been trying to copy. The plan was to make a grouping of these over the dresser in my bedroom, along with a mirror so I could try out different pieces without dancing back and forth between the dresser and my vanity.



I like the original PBTeen concept, pictured above, but wanted to perk it up some. (And I thought I could do it a little cheaper.) I think PBTeen had the right idea with neutral fabric (best to show off a wide range of jewelry) but I didn't like the white shabby chic frames, especially not up against my pale green bedroom walls. Hobby Lobby helped, with a nice eclectic selection of five frames in great colors.

After buying the frames (and the cork board and the fabric) I realized I had a problem. The frames were really too small for my jewelry. I don't wear dainty little bracelets and earrings like the photo shows. I'm into necklaces, and an occasional brooch. And since I have a thick neck, the necklaces are very long. So long that they can't be pinned within the frame's borders successfully. Damn.

I thought for a week, and decided that would be OK, provided I bought a long, skinny frame and let several necklaces cascade over its border. Good idea, except long, skinny frames started at $40 -- the cost of my other five frames combined! I went ahead and bought a frame anyway (since I had already invested so much in this project!) and came home to start working.

I wanted to get the placement nailed before I did much more work, so I pulled out some graph paper, measured everything, and started working. And damn it, nothing worked!!!!! Everything I tried looked boxy and ugly and all wrong. This, after $80 in frames, plus fabric ($5) plus cork board ($20).

I could cry.

I went back to the bedroom and opened a few of the dresser drawers to pull out some necklaces, and really started bawling. There, tucked away in a drawer, were the Ruben Toledo illustrations I removed from my copy of The Bombshell Manual of Style -- the ones I wanted to put above the dresser to begin with!! I've pasted the book's cover below. It might give you an idea of how fabulous the interior illustrations are.




So now I want to use the illustrations, but I also want to make the jewelry thing work. The problem is that I only have 72 inches of wall to play with. I don't have enough room to make everything happen, and I can't decide what to sacrifice.

It really boils down to what I want to happen in this room. Do I want to see these wonderful pictures, which make me smile every time I look at them? Or do I want to see my jewelry collection on display (as opposed to lost or broken or tangled) serving as a reminder that I should actually wear the stuff?

Am I romantic or am I practical? Do I want a place to dream, or a place to launch me into my day? And why, why, why can't I have both in 72 inches of wall????

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While surfing for Reuben Toledo illustrations I did find this wonderful limited edition Pleasures perfume bottle he designed for Estée Lauder. I don't buy much perfume, but this is very, very tempting. Maybe I need more perfume in my life. After all, the Bombshell Manual has a whole chapter on perfume.

Multitasking

Still trying to read, while waiting for my new video game to install. Found the ultimate nerd paragraph:

"I imagined that the stack of magazines under his bed was equal parts Playboy and National Geographic. I saw him playing Xbox before beginning his shift at the helm of a high-powered radio telescope. I pictured him pursuing the latest Spiderman comic book after giving a lecture on the untapped potential of inert space gas as an alternative fuel."

Wow. That pretty much says everything. Thank you, Libby Street!!

(five minutes later)

It gets better. The heroine is thinking positive:

"I am super sexy and fun. I am carefree and sowing my wild oats. I will admire your scientific exploits, and won't make you burn your collection of Star Wars action figures. . . . . I am easygoing and vivacious . . . and would adore your Lord of the Rings commemorative coin collection."

R-E-L-A-X

My name is Sharon, and I might be a workaholic.

I'm forcing myself to watch TV and read a book right this second. The problem is that I'm finding myself trying to do both at once. While checking email. And blogging.

I have four whole days left until I have to be back at school. Normally I would shop, but I've blown the budget until February. I'm trying to be normal and watch TV. That isn't working either. I'm about to start cleaning house since there isn't anything better to do.

I'm in real trouble, aren't I?

Green Pretty Heart Defy

Today's fortune, unlike yesterday's, is 100% on target. I knew what it meant the second I turned it over. In a nutshell it's saying "Young, pretty, romantic love just isn't in the cards for you, sweetie. Get over it."

Ouch. I've been reading a bunch of "spinster novels," all about aging women and their search for love. It's been pretty depressing. The best wisdom I gained from the books is that I need to quit thinking in terms of romance, and instead think of it all as a business. Less passion, more "lie back and think of England."

They're probably right. I have a date with my bookstore manager next weekend. I'm not crazy about him, but I think (at this point) that I could stand to have him on the other side of table for a lifetime. And it's better to be the person not so in love, right? Best to be clear-sighted and in control. Let him fall for me, let him do the work, let me reap the benefits.

Gods, I hate this.

Opportunity Big Forever Make

I'm sneezing and coughing my way around the house while wearing a form-fitting pale, pale pink satin cami sans bra and black yoga pants. I'm trying to pretend I'm sexy instead of just ill. Sadly it isn't working.

Today's fridge fortune -- Opportunity Big Forever Make -- is obviously a dud. What kind of live-changing opportunities can I find, stuck in my house and married to a Kleenex box? I desperately want to open a bottle of wine and mope, but I'm worried about how the wine will interact with Benedryl.

At least a guy actually asked for my number. I'm verging on feeling attractive. If he ever calls I might scare the cats by singing a few lines from "I Feel Pretty."

Now if I just thought he was attractive . . . but I don't. He wasn't nerdy at all. But my beloved nerds don't want to play, so I'll have to move on to . . . I don't know, middle managers and guys who like cars?