OMFG my BF iz uberl33t

His birthday is actually tomorrow, but I figured I'd post it today since no one reads this blog after five. I think?

Nox is thirty as of midnight and looks damn good. So...

30 things I love about my thirty year old man ( in no particular order) :
NOTE: PLEASE SKIP IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED IN SAPPINESS

1. Perfect blend of humble and arrogant.
2. Creative mind that is warped along the edges.
3. Listens.
4. No, I mean like really listens, remembers and asks follow up questions.
5. Talks. About how he feels. Amazing.
6. Is not an optimist.
7. Deeply geeky.
8. Gorgeous. To me. Which is all that matters, really.
9. Has no compunctions about tickling me until I scream.
10. Honest. Sometimes to a fault.
11. Dedicated and loyal.
12. Always has time for a friend in need.
13. Wants either a gaggle of kids or none at all, depends on the day.
14. Does not offer a strong opinion if he doesn't have one.
15. Will debate a point with me just for fun and to watch my eyes go cross.
16. Does not mind clingy girlfriend.
17. Is physical beyond the bedroom.
18. Respects all women even his mother who is occasionally a Pain.
19. Opens my car door. Every. Time.
20. Always ready for a good laugh.
21. Accepts compliments grudgingly.
22. Thinks I'm hot. V. important that one.
23. Teases, but doesn't insult.
24. Is continually startled by my use of the word Jew in a negative context, no matter how many times I explain that I get to throw it around because I am one.
25. Still very much in touch with his inner child. They watch Transformers together.
26. Beats me at Risk every time.
27. Accepts defeat gracefully at Monopoly.
28. Biggest Flirt Ever...with boys. So Freakin' Cute.
29. Can still blush though he swears he is nearly 100% unflappable.
30. Calls me/texts me just to say he loves me too.

Wow, I think I just gave myself a cavity. Happy birthday, my dear!

Tough Choices and Tough Love

Well the job offer came in. They aren't going to match my salary. The difference isn't much and it'll probably make itself up between cheaper insurance and not having to pay tolls (commute is in the oppisote direction). I think I'll accept it.

I thought I would be happier. But thanks in part to my own baggage and the pleasentries of my parents, I'm just tired and sad today.

I love my parents and when we spoke last night, I know they spoke out of love for me.

But telling me that this career is never going to support me and that if I have a family what am I going to do? And we didn't pay all this money for your education for you to pay beans...


It made me feel like shit. This is not the first time that my parents have done this to me and it probably won't be the last. Money is a huge priority for them (read mostly my mother, but dad too).

I respect them a lot. I love that they provided me so much for my education, but last night they made me feel like I had failed.

....

Real time posting.

I just met one on one with a patron. I knew was coming and forced myself to suck up all my overbrewed emotion. He was lovely, very sweet and ambitious and we talked about some of his options for attaining his goals.

It made me remember that goals are not something we meet all at once. My parents don't realistically think that I will be a millionaire. They want me to be safe and happy. They know our economy is tanking and what that can mean for people making less then steller salaries.

But I think I am starting to become enough a grown up to know what's right for me. I live under my parents roof which can make it difficult for me to see myself as an adult. Even when I'm on my own I still feel immature. It doesn't help that people frequently comment about how young 23 is and that I have so much time to make decisions.

I'm not playing in a sandbox dreaming any more, but I'm not preganant, married and with a mortgage either.

I'm going to take this new job and do it with a balls to the walls attitude. In the meantime, to appease the part of me that feels like I need to do more, I think once I've settled in, I will commit to an online program.

To be honest, it isn't just my parents who are disappointed in my earning capacity. I want to make the kind of salary that makes buying a reasonably sized home not impossible dream. That may mean leaving librarnship behind completely or moderating what kind of work I do.

What I do know is that I am way to young to have all the answers. I'm still ignorant as pig shit about a lot of things.

Anyway, it's a cop out to blame my parents about my mixed emotions. A decrease in salary is fucking depressing. But VSL and I are just not compatible. I've gained weight and an irritable attitude here. A lot of people thrive here, but then again, they aren't shoved in the basement.

Does any of this make sense? I know you guys are out there, I can see you as red dots on my statcounter hits.

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL

SVU, I love you

I do watch a great deal of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. I have no interest in the original or Criminal Intent.

But something bothered me in an episode I saw last night. It was one of the more twisty ones with the plot doubling back on itself. The first twist was that the dead body ( a teenage boy) was thought to be a woman's son. She had reported him missing a decade before and was wrongly convinced that it was a sexual felon recently released from prison who nabbed him. There was no evidence that this was the case and the police dismissed her. The teenager is found in the same neighborhood as the felon and she identifies the boy as her son. She weeps thinking that he was alive and being tortured by the felon all this time.

Except she is wrong. The boy isn't her son. Right after she identifies him, someone else comes in and identifies him as a friend.

The case goes from there and never goes back to her.

That's what bothered me. I mean, I don't blame the show. They were trying to tell a story, that was a twist and they left it at that. There is only so much drama you can pack into an hour. But there's this woman, living under a delusion for ten years that this man killed her son.

No on tries to correct her or protect the sex offender. I'm not saying that a sex offender deserves protection. It is clearly stated that he raped a young boy and I don't have any sympathy for him. I just wonder about this woman. Clearly, she has suffered and has spent her life channeling her guilt into hounding this man.

Why couldn't they have spared two lines to make sure she got some help that she needed?

I know, I know, I'm taking television too personally again, but I think what we watch is very often a reflection on our culture. This woman was gravely ill. She was losing her life fighting against someone that may have had nothing to do with her son's disappearance. But she wasn't dangerous so we can't spend the time on her.

Food for thought?

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL

Caving into Apathy

Oh sweet sweet Apathy, you are every my faithful lover.

To be fair, what I usually indulge in is not true apathy. When I become anxious, I tend to jettison the things that are making me nervous. It goes beyond procrastination. I just pretend that I don't care and will avoid the thought if it entirely. This never ever works. Instead, whatever I am pushing away lurks just beneath the surface until I get it done.

As an upshot starting in college, I dedicated myself to becoming anal. I am not naturally organized, but I was ruthless and found it made my life a lot easier. I still backslide occasionally and probably will for the rest of my life, just as I deal with my anxiety for the rest of my life.

In any case, the good news is that this afternoon I am going to get a job offer. I don't know if I'll take it because I have a feeling they are going to try to low ball me salary wise. I think that is why they've waited so long.

I found out about this meeting on Friday night. Monday, I came in and got a lot of work done. I just pounded through it. The same yesterday and this morning. Usually, I push things off as long as possible at VSL. I expected that hearing about the offer would send me into a tailspin of apathy.

The truth is, I am a people pleaser. I know that some people may laugh who know me well enough when they hear that. But its true. I hate hate hate when I offend someone or make someone angry. I get physically ill with stomach cramps.

Resigning from VSL would make a lot of people angry. When my boss left here about a year ago, she was petrified to even go to social gatherings after she handed in her resignation. I thought that was ridiculous, but now that I may be doing that, it does seem weird. I will be leaving them in a not so great position: empty library.

As a result, I've been working extra hard, even though for all I know I will be staying here another year. I just want to make things right. I also don't want to screw over the next person.

I wish I could feel more apathetic.

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL

Attack of the Killer Cold

Apparently one can have a 24-hour cold. Yesterday, my head felt like it was going to explode, I was easily confused and everything hurt. Also, snot. And snot with blood! Wait...where are you going?

Anyway, I'm still a little snotty, but already the aches are pretty much gone and I'm not more easily confused then usual. Which isn't saying much.

Of course these days of general ickiness occurred on the two days of the year where there is no way on God's green earth that I couldn't go to work because otherwise, THE APOCALYPSE WOULD BE UPON THEE. I did it for the kittens.

In other news, I planned to look at apartments this week to show my blase attitude about stupid other interview thing that will clearly come to nothing. So of course, they contacted me and want to talk to me a week from tomorrow. I'm pleased, but also lord how many times must they talk to me before they make a decision? This would make the fourth interview. FOUR. REEEDECULOOS.

And it means that the area I was looking at to live in may become less doable. Awesome.

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL

Ms. Manners Gives a Beat Down

Not really, but wouldn't that be awsome?

NO! ::punch to the face:: Elbows! ::kick to the groin:: On The! ::roundhouse kick:: Table! ::grinding of high heel into the stomach::

As I may have mentioned before my patrons are sometimes a little...special. See Redrum, Redrum two posts back (exciting update: stains still present and someone peed GREEN all over a seat, not sure what STD causes that).

I have had a few manners issues, some of the doozies including knocking on my cage walls instead of the doors, being cursed out for not providing more printer paper quickly enough and someone sticking pieces of packing tape on my car door. To be fair, I don't think the last was personal as none of the patrons know which car is mine.

In any case, I think one of my favorite small manner mishaps is when they borrow something from me then complain about the quality. I love this. "These scissors are dull! What do you mean you only have paperclips? Why can't I have a stapler? This stapler is crappy!"

Yes. I will get right on that. The funny thing is that these are not spoiled rich people. They in fact come from fairly low income neighborhoods. Yet, whenever the least one of their demands is not met there is an instant hissy fit.

Ms. Manners needs to get on those karate lessons stat.

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL

Spontaneous Moments of Joy

Last night as Nox and I were locked in a competitive tickle battle for the ages, I contemplated moments of spontaneous joy. Well, actually I was fighting for my over ticklish feet, but I thought about it later.

And for some reason it uncovered one of my favorite childhood memories which was gathering dust:

My mother and I were going to plant a garden on the side of my house. This was when my mother was in her gardening phase. I think we had around seven on our half acre property. Anyway, I was helping since even at eight I loved mud

It was probably a bad idea because storm clouds were gathering, but my mother is extremely impulsive and so out we went. Sure enough just as we got the soil good and tilled, the sky opened up. I thought this was the most hilarious thing in the world and started building mud piles. My mom actually joined in. We built an entire flooded town with rivers and buildings with stick flags.

It's all too easy to complain about my mother. We're very different people and sometimes it seems like we speak a different language. Remembering those moments reminds me why I love her beyond the obvious 'she's your mother, idiot'.

The point being that even in the midst of pressure from work ( AND STILL MORE WAITING HOLY FLYING FUCKNUGGET), it's better to let go and enjoy the people in our lives who want to tickle our feet until we scream.

Or something.

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL

Redrum! Redrum!

This week has been so awesome, I might stick my head in an oven for fun! Sylvia did it...it must be cool!

The bad is work related and therefore I no talkly on the bloggy about it.

Except for one thing.

Bathroom cleanliness is dubious at my office because many people use the facilities over the course of the day and the two person janitorial staff is trying to keep up with ten bathrooms all the time.

That's fine. I am not a squeamish bathroom girl. I sit directly on the seat, even forgoing the tissue thin seat cover unless the seat is so gross I have no other choice.

But even I was grossed out by the menstrual blood spattering the stall door. I'm not even sure how one could physically do that unless they were performing some kind of modern interpretive tampon dance.

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL

P.S. Still !@#$%^&* waiting.

Throwing Pots

Ever since I was little I have found mud incredibly soothing. Just ask my despairing mother of two decades ago as she dutifully packed a spare change of clothes for my inevitable mud bath.

There's something wonderfully grounding about making something from dirt. My parents enrolled me in a pottery class when I was thirteen and all that remains of my efforts is a ceramic cat, all facial features long ago washed away.

I started again in the spring of this year when the monotony of my work was starting to get to me. It was just like I remembered it. Running hands through thick cool earth and forming into dilapidated bowls of unknown usage.

I'm never going to be very good at it. I've long ago accepted that my hands were just not made to create pretty, delicate things. They are large hands with bent fingers. They are meant to garden, cup my breasts obscenely in public and baffle ring makers. I hope one day they will be hands that hold a new born's head. I think I'd like to do that.

But I'd like to make a bowl that I can eat cereal out of first. Priorities, people.


Catch you on the flipside,
CGL

P.S. Yes, still waiting

Waiting

Had a third interview and they said they would be done by the end of the day with their decision. That was yesterday. Waaaaiting is the hardest part.

I consider myself a fairly patient person. I'm not a 'are we there yet?' sort of gal. But this is sort of...massively important and I think they are trying to torture me. Even if it is bad news, I just want to know already so I can get on with my life i.e. apartment hunting.