Posted in !General Musings, !Memories

Just Me and My Rambles

I remember having a conversation with a former cellphone provider that, from his perspective, might’ve been a wee bit on the edge of crazy. It was the day I realized I couldn’t make calls back home, to PR, where my mother lives, whom I called on a daily basis because I had just recently left home and couldn’t adult properly. That poor agent (wherever you are, sir, I promise, startling you was not my intent) was not prepared for the adult having a near panic attack because she couldn’t call home. He most certainly was not.

I called, explained the situation (in my usual signature rambly way of, “Is there a reason why I can’t make calls to PR? Because I’m pretty sure I should be able to. I signed up for this because you guys provided me the thing. I don’t have the thing. I need to be able to call home. I need the thing.”) and bless, the agent (after stammering, possibly trying not to laugh) told me he’d check on that for me and see what he can do to get things going for me. Mind you, I didn’t yell at him, so he was good humored about the whole thing, but I was rambly.

When I go rambly, I resemble a five year old asking why there’s a Wa Ta in the kitchen of the Chinese restaurant.

Fun Fact: As a kid, there was this really good Chinese restaurant mom would take us to (oh, eggrolls, how I miss thee). I was a kid. I had recently watched a film involving a form of martial arts. Naturally, when I see someone that resembles an actor that does said fighting in said film, I don’t have the adult knowledge of, “Oh, hey, they look like they might be the same nationality, but this man is not a character in a film, he is the glorious cook that is going to serve me mah eggrolls.” Nope, instead, in the vocabulary of a child, I tug at my mom’s arm and say, “Mom, look, it’s a Wa Ta!” (No, I was not saying water, I was saying the sound they make when they fight. Snort.)

But all was right in the world, in the end, because they fixed what it was. Someone had accidentally removed the feature on my account. Why? Who knows. I didn’t fuss, though. Sometimes we fart and shit happens. I was just happy to have my feature back ’cause ET needs to phone home, thanksverymuch. And it’s for good reason. My mother is full of wisdom, funny moments and has an ability to prod your common sense that is absolutely epic. Granted, my common sense sometimes takes a vacation and then I get to hear the goold ol’, “I told ya so.”

I’ve stopped minding hearing the “I told you so”s, though. Masochistic as it may sound, I just smile, because it’s something I need to hear, it’s something I need to learn. I wouldn’t give that up for pride or whatever other reason people avoid being wrong. If I’m wrong, I’d rather know it, than live my life thinking I’m right, y’know? And who better to tell me than someone I care about?

There are some words of wisdom that I remember fondly, not from my mum this time, but a former boss who taught me a lot more than just her words of wisdom (…she also taught me about subject verb agreement because she was my English professor. Grammar is not easy, friends, but it is made simple when your professor is both brilliant and patient). She actually met my mother. They liked each other. I worried I was outnumbered considering they were both good at the “I told you so” trend (my common sense takes a vacation… a lot?)

My boss would often be witness to my hectic college schedule which involved: wake up, class, work, class, work, class again, homework, project, blogging, writing, sleep somewhere in there, rinse and repeat. There were times when she said, “Ani, take a break. Your boss is telling you to take a break.”

She’d ask me about my day, what I was doing (if it wasn’t something she already knew because she asked me to do it a few minutes ago) and how classes were going. One day she asked me about my out-of-work/out-of-school plans. I told her I had none. She asked when was the last time I went out (…in her book, trips to the bookstore did not count…she was my favorite boss and that’s why I didn’t shout blasphemer right then and there, mmm’kay?)

She then realized her employee didn’t have much of a social life. Sure, I had friends who, occasionally, could talk me into going somewhere, but they could only really bribe me with birthdays, which only come once a year, so, limited supply of bribes. Now, she understood that I was a bit of a hermit, understood I was perfectly content with a video game or a book, but what she didn’t fully applaud was the fact that I spent more time on work and school than any time I spent on myself.

I almost caught myself doing the math, years later (because you know I did it even after I stopped working under her. Sometimes “I told you so”s have a delayed reveal for me), thinking how much we spend working whatever job we have at the time versus getting the time to do what you enjoy, and that’s when I understood something my then boss told me (something she probably saw/read somewhere).

Work to live, don’t live to work.

Delayed “I told you so” indeed. I used to once work in an environment that, not only took over forty hours a week of my life that I couldn’t get back, but I’d stress about the job, I couldn’t eat lunch because I was so stressed. It was so toxic that even a raise and a promotion wrapped in a hug didn’t save the situation.

Sometimes, you have to ask yourself, is this really my only choice? Do I really have to make myself sit through misery with a smile stapled on my face because I have absolutely no other choice? And really think about it, clear the cobwebs of your mind and identify fear as what it is, an obstacle, but it’s not a wall. There’s no such thing as a room with no doors – well, there might be, if a person sits and waits as someone builds the walls around them.

I found another choice. It wasn’t easy. I was unemployed for some months, but I got lucky. I wasn’t alone. I had my sweetie, who was very supportive (and relieved when I stopped being so bitter and miserable at the end of every work day) throughout the whole ordeal. It’s been, possibly, close to three years since that time? I’m glad for it, though. It was a change I didn’t know I needed.

Things have improved a whole lot since then and I finally have the ability to work to live, rather than the other way around. Although I do work from home, I don’t take my work with me. The best thing I found that helps, my work computer is solely for work, and I have my Chromebook for writing, or my desktop, if I don’t mind being in the office. Where I do my writing helps me differentiate what I’m doing it for: for work or for me.

It’s a small thing, but it makes all the difference.

Posted in !CRHappenstances, !General Musings, !My Sweetie

What May Be An Amusing Teacup Sighting

Before we go any further, allow me to at least do the courtesy of explaining that my sense of humor is wacky. It’s weird. It’s nonsensical. I love it. I’ve tried to live like the quote, “Laugh at your problems and you’ll never run out of things to laugh about.” And I also laugh at everything else, so in the end, it’s still balances out.

My sweetie is a wonderfully amusing person to stare at (and yes, I am that creeper in an anime who just staaaares. Then there’s a 60% chance I’ll laugh. Okay, fine, 80%.) The reason he’s amusing is because he can pull off stoic like no one can. Stoic, silent, pensive, he can do it all, but my favorite has to be…his morning face.

His morning face is the kind of face that would make the effects of ex-lax happen almost instantaneously on a person. It is a scary face. It is a murdery face, made even more murdery by the fact that he’ll just sit there and stare for a bit until he actually wakes up.

Now I’m generally good at reading faces, possibly because I’ve made many faces faces myself:

I’m Dying Face (brought to you by the flu), Do I Need a Throat? (brought to you by strep throat), What Am I Doing? (brought by any day in the kitchen), Do I Even Have to Go? (brought to you by any time I look at my closet), I Want Pillows with My Coffee (brought to you by mornings), but I’ve never had a face like my sweetie has when he just wakes up.

And it’s adorable because I know he’s one of the sweetest and funniest people I’ve met, but ooooh, scary face, I want to poke it!

Or, maybe, I want to crack it?

Not too long ago, I loaded up the dishwasher (during this time, he’s asleep. He has to wake up earlier than me for work and, well, I tend write better at night – who knows why.) I was missing just one tiny space filler. Just one more thing, and I could run the thing. I look around the dining room and living room…and there is his teacup. Just calling to me.

And, as expected, it has leftover tea because he never drinks his tea in one go. He leaves a bit so he can drink some when he wakes up. So, I pour the leftover tea in a very obvious and tall plastic cup (rather than the reasonably sized teacups we use). And knowing him, he’ll notice (…I’ve tried to hide things before. I leave puzzle post-its! Poor puzzle post-its. Sigh. He always figures it out, but he’s grown up with riddles, so makes sense, I suppose).

When he notices, I’m going to be curious as to whether it’ll crack that face. The kind of face that even Wednesday Adams would be proud of.

And we all know even Wednesday Adams smiled.

Side Note: The day after, I inquired as to whether he noticed anything different. Apparently, he hadn’t, due to waking up with his alarm rather than before his alarm (…and this is why I can’t be the Mastermind in Leverage. I forgot that bit also tends to happen, though not as often). Sigh. I should’ve used a post-it (…and yes, I have stacks of them. For random shenanigans.)