In Which I Make A Trimphant Return to Blogging

Well, kids, you asked for it.  I am back, hopefully consistently.

I took a break from blogging because my most popular posts were about my dating disasters, and now that I am no longer dating I felt like I didn't have a lot to write about.

But the universe has blessed me with a job which I believe will be endless blog fodder, so I am going to document it.  We'll see how it goes.

So for those that don't know, I got a part-time temporary job working for the Man in the capacity of one who will be taking demographic information of those who reside in my community in an event that happens every ten years.  To avoid people finding my blog by searching for the actual name of this operation, I will not be using it.

This week was the training week.  So far training has gone about as expected.  It has been pretty disorganized and I have spent a lot of time reading my book.  The people in my training group are overwhelmingly middle-aged white men.  You work in your neighborhood, and this demographic is pretty consistent with the overall demographic of my neighborhood so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.  But I know I am not going to be good friends with anyone.  I should note here for people who read my blog, but don't know me or haven't been updated since my last post - I have since moved out of the ghetto in Brooklyn  to lower Manhattan in a more middle/upper-middle class neighborhood. 

Today was the last day of sitting-in-a-room training, which is good because if I had to listen to this one obnoxious guy ask one more moronic question my head was going to asplode.

The story for the purpose of today's blog is about one of the middle-aged white guys in my training, named William.  William's MO throughout the training has been to talk too loudly about how no one is going to a) answer their doors to us b) be nice to us when we come by or c) give us any information that might help us.  William also had come up with several nonsense hypothetical scenarios that took up immense amounts of discussion time and would then complain that things were dragging on.  I had decided that I think that William's feelings about how others will act is more of a reflection on how he himself would act were someone with our job to come to his home.  And I was proved right in the following exchange in which I decided for some unknown reason to strike up a conversation with him.

William had mentioned that a local VIP lived on the same floor as him in his building.  During a break I made a little comment about this local VIP and somehow ended up mentioning which apartment complex I live in. William started off friendly and said "Oh I live in that complex too!" And I said, oh really? What building? And he answered that he lives in building X.  And I said "oh that's funny, I've never seen you, I live in Building X too!"  (This is not out of the ordinary.  The building has 35 floors and I probably have only seen a fraction of the people who live there.)

But this is where it turns weird.  It was like I could see on William's face that he was really wishing that this conversation would be over, but I couldn't really understand why. I plodded on and asked what floor he lived on and told him what floor I live on.  William got even more uncomfortable and said "that's secret."  "Ok", I said, "but when I see you on the elevator, I will know."  William just shrugged and it was clear that we both wanted this conversation to end.  I kind of half-continued to conversation with a weak discussion about development in the area, even though I should just have left him to himself, but I felt like I couldn't leave it at his weird rebuffal.

For some reason, I am still thinking about this conversation because it just felt so strange to me.  But, it proved my original assumption - William is expecting everyone else to be weird, cagey, and assholes because those are all true of himself.

There was a brief moment today when I thought I would end up paired up with him to practice going door-to-door, but mercifully that didn't take place because I was almost in tears at the prospect of two hours of that miserable conversation.  I am sure William feels the same way.

Actual door-to-door is on Sunday...updates then.
 In fun news, local VIP lives in my buidling...although I may never know on which floor.

I'm not big on social graces

So the new thing that really annoys me is being polite. Specifically, polite conversation...things that you're supposed to say that no one really cares about wanting to say but does anyway. Today I noticed that this woman at my work had on two walking casts. Now, I don't really ever interact with her, she's perfectly pleasant, but honestly she knows I don't care how she hurt herself and she doesn't want to explain it to me. However, when I passed her I asked her how her feet were and she said that they were getting better (from what? how long have they been hurt? guess what!? i don't really care!). As I was rounding the corner I overheard another coworker ask her, verbatim, the same thing I just had and she gave, verbatim, the same answer. So I get that you have to ask it...how bad would I feel if I was limping around all over the place and no one said anything. But, I would really only want people I actually care about talking about it with to ask me. I hate the small-talk kind of polite inquiry.

Last night I took my laundry to my boyfriend's because he has laundry in his building. I spent the night so I brought my duffle bag full of laundry to work (yes I realize that when all is said and done it is actually less convenient than just going to the laundromat, but I am trying to break the addiction). Anyway I have a duffle bag in my office so people keep coming by and then asking me where I'm going. So then I have to explain how and why I have a bag full of my laundry in my office. Uuuugh. But people have to say it...otherwise it's rude to just ignore the fact that I might be going on vacation.
I also hate when I see myself asking small-talk questions and all I can think about is how I don't really care and the person doesn't want to tell me. The other day I rode my bike to work and I had my helmet in my hand while I was waiting for the elevator and another coworker noticed and asked if I had ridden my bike and then asked how far. I scoffed and said, "like two miles"...not like she would have any idea where I live. And then there was this weird silence where it was like I could fill it with some dumb talk about how I don't live too far and it's faster to bike than take the train blah blah blah. And she'll feign interest and then I'll talk more than is necessary, but it would have filled up the elevator time with something other than that pause that ends with an intake of breath like you're going to start talking but then don't. Is that what is called a heavy pause?
That said, when people don't make polite conversation they end up in this blog labeled with Asperger's....so no one can really win I guess.

In other awkward news, the situation with Mute Guy is really getting out of hand. I bought a new bike right after mine got stolen because I needed one right away for the five borough bike tour. So I saw Mute Guy shortly after that and he seemed to be pleased that I had gotten a new bike, and I kept it in the downstairs hall, but locked to itself this time. And then it was going to be rainy for like a week so I went ahead and moved it upstairs, and Mute Guy may or may not have asked me about it and I told him that it was upstairs. THEN I moved it back downstairs. So one day I was going to take it and he came up from his basement and started going on and on and I have no idea what he was talking about. I don't know why he thinks I can understand him and it's getting increasingly unpleasant. I kept saying "I don't understand" and "I'm confused" but I am beginning to think he may also be deaf. As far as I could tell, he may not really trust the people who live in the apartment on the 1st floor...they may have been smoking marijuana...possibly having sex, or looking through the peephole, or he saw them having sex through the peep hole. It may have been an orgy because he seemed to be indicating that he heard people coming and going while he was sleeping. Maybe they are drug dealers? Anyway, the gist seemed to be that I should keep my bike upstairs, even though I have been locking it to itself. So then I spent the next several days being really bitter about Mute Guy telling me to keep my bike upstairs because I live on the third floor and it's a pain in the ass. So finally yesterday I locked it to itself back on the first floor....and if I run into Mute Guy I am going to have some paper handy so he can write down whatever the hell his problem is. And if he was just making polite conversation, I am going to push him down the stairs into his basement.

Updates and Thoughts

1. In one month and three days I will be on my way to Hawaii with my boyfriend, his brother, and his brother's girlfriend. How excited am I?! Especially since all I have to pay for is my airfare...and, you know, everything else...but no hotel!

2. I am working on getting in bikini shape for the next month, which will be good. Apparently when I decided to postpone my duathlon, I also gave myself permission to binge eat and nap excessively and it's gotten out of control.

3. As part of bikini-shape plan, I have been riding my new bike. Which I am very excited about. It's a road bike, so a lot lighter and faster than my old bike, which is fun.

4. Bea Arthur: Ok, so it's too bad that she died and all, even though she was 86 and it's not really that surprising, but for some reason keep acting shocked...but I kind of think the outpouring of grief among people I know and in blogs I read is kind of ridiculous. Seriously, look at the imdb...except for a few guests spots she hasn't been in anything since Golden Girls ended. So, it's not like it's going to be a big loss and that her career has ended in its prime and the tv world is now going to be bereft of all of the new and amazing works that Bea Arthur would have produced. So, if for some reason you were some huge Bea Arthur fan, she will still be on Lifetime for an hour a day in a mediocre show from the late 80's about single middle-aged women that for some reason has become a cult phenomenon in the 21st century. Plus, Maude is actually way cooler. She had an abortion! Like, only a few years after they quit having couples on tv sleep in seperate beds!

5. When I was little we watched MASH as a family a lot, and I always liked the character Radar because he was gentle and nerdy and had a teddy bear. Big Bird's teddy bear was also named Radar, and because I watched both shows around the same era I always associated MASH Radar with Big Bird's Radar. Turns out, that wasn't a coincidence. From the Sesame Street Wiki: The stuffed bear was named by Big Bird's performer Caroll Spinney as a tribute to actor Gary Burghoff, who played Walter "Radar" O'Reilly on M*A*S*H.^[2] The two met at a taping of Hollywood Squares, and the bear's name is a dual tribute, reflecting Burghoff's Radar character, who brought a teddy bear to Korea, and the fact that in his private life, Burghoff is known as a painter of birds and an activist for bird preservation.
Fun!

6. I also learned from the Sesame Street Wiki that this is what the original Snuffy looked like:
Scary!

Notice to Chivalrous Men

OK, you're not being helpful when you hold a door open for me like this:
Notice how this man is essentially blocking the entire entrance to the doorway? Not useful. Now, if you had let the door slam in my face what I can easily go ahead and do is just open it back up. When you are standing there with your body blocking 3/4 of the doorway I cannot just push you to the side. You force an awkward situation where I have to take the door from you or squeeze past you and it's dumb.
If I am going the opposite way from you in a doorway and you really feel compelled to hold the goddamn door open, the best thing you can do is completely exit out of the door, stand parallel to the door to hold it open from the end rather than the doorjamb side, thus allowing me easy access through the door passageway. As exhibited below. Also, please remove your hat in the presence of a lady. Thx.

Words I would like to be retired

Snark/Snarky
Hipster (esp. hipster as used derogatorily because it is infinitely more annoying than actual hipsters)
Recessionista
Really anything "ista"
Really anything coupled with recession, i.e. recession diet, recession chic
Huzzah -- this isn't one you hear all that often, but it makes me feel really awkward when people say it.
aks instead of ask (apparently Chaucer used this?)
Baby Bump -- I can never emphasize enough how much I dislike this phrase
Any celeb combo name
Any perversion of the word texting, i.e sexting, textual harrassment, etc.
Guesstimate - it's estimate, yo.
Expresso -- it's espresso, yo.
Schadenfreude -- love the concept, tired of the word
Tweet - as referring to posts to Twitter. I know this is, like, the actual word for it. I think it is dumb.

That's all I can think of for now.

sports theater

So, I am planning on doing a duathalon in April, assuming I don't psych myself out. But I keep running into mucho problemas, some of them legitimate and some of them that are more or less self-created.
Problem number one is I have an overuse injury. How awesome is that!? My calves were getting really sore when I was running, to the point that I had to stop because it was too painful. So I started doing all the stuff that running websites tell you to do -- I got an ice pack, I did stretches, I got tiger balm, I got heel inserts for my shoes, I got new shoes -- but it wasn't really helping. So the other thing you can do is get a brace for your shin/calf. So after trying everything else I, being me, went the dramatic route and got the brace. So now I wear it at the gym and I feel kind of bad ass because I look like a legitimate athlete.
Problem number two is it's fucking cold which presents two problems. 2a is that I am worried that I won't have enough outside training time, so I use that to psych myself out thinking that maybe I should wait because I won't be ready in time. 2b is that it I'm not always all that motivated to walk 15 minutes each way to the gym in 20 degree wind chill weather.
Problem three is that my gym is way too crowded after work. Normally if I go right after work if I get off at 5, it's not too bad. I went today and it was insanity. I waited around for a machine and finally gave up, telling myself that I will come back, which there is probably a 25% chance of me actually doing.
I considered joining the gym next door to my work, but then I was reading reviews of it and one person said they had been to better gyms in Beirut. So I am not going to pay twice as much for a third world gym, which is probably just as crowded.
So until April 5th I plan on limping around with my brace on, moaning about interferences to my "training schedule" and generally being extra dramatic. And hopefully I won't talk myself out of the duathlon.

Like coming off the pill that you take to stay happy

I am a full two weeks back on anti-depressants, and it pisses me off to tell you that they are working.
Goddamn mental stability!
It pisses me off mostly at myself for thinking that I could stop them, when it was a particularly bad time to try to do so. It pisses me off because I feel like I wasted my summer being depressed because I was too stubborn to take medication.
This summer was the longest I've been off anti-depressants since I started taking them over 10 years ago. And I'm not sure that my life will ever be stable enough for me to go off them again....not like I plan on being some vagabond for the rest of my life, but we always have stuff going on that can be hard and it turns out I can't deal.
I have certainly been depressed while on anti-depressants...usually then I just change the meds or change the dose or whatever. But being on anti-depressants doesn't make me happy. I think I have written before about how much I hate it when people call prozac a "happy pill". I am not an especially happy person. I will never be a happy person. Prozac lets me funtion. Depression is a little cocoon for me. It's actually comforting. On anti-depressants I can actually feel myself coming out of my little depression nest....it's like getting out of bed. There are days when being curled up in bed is pleasant and relaxing, and forcing yourself to throw those covers off and expose yourself to the air makes you feel vulnerable. I really feel like I don't have a blanket over me when I'm not depressed.

Anyway, it's making my life a lot better. Things are going better at my job and it feels more manageable. I get less frustrated with my supervisor, and I don't cry every time I am frustrated.

My roommates make me laugh more than anything. Stoner and her dyke friend were having a burping contest yesterday. That was awesome to listen to.

I threw away another empty bag of cheese that someone left in the fridge.

Tomorrow I am buying toilet paper to keep in my room because I have bought a substantial amount-at least 9 rolls-twice in a row. We are now down to the last roll and someone has brought in a single roll of Scott. Fuck that shit. Charmin's in my room, bitches.

Asperger's has these really short shorts she likes to wear around the house. Like you can see the bottom part of her ass when she wears them. But it's getting cold and we don't have heat. Some people, like myself, stop wearing their around-the-house shorts when it gets that cold. But not Asperger's. She apparently can't give up those fucking shorts. The other day she comes barrelling out of her room like she does and she is wearing the short shorts and what could best be described as thigh-high gym socks. The kind with a couple horizontal stripes around the top except the top part is at the top of her thigh instead of, say, the lower part of a calf. So she stomps through the living room with her asperger's gait and it's: short shorts, little bit of ass, and then thigh high gym sock on down.
I laughed as she was walking by. Fortunately her disorder prevents her from paying attention to her surroundings. She and I watched two episodes of the new duggar show today. I have a lot to say about the Duggars, but that is for next time.

the pleasures of the first world

I moved today. And, as I wrote about before, I am still nervous about this apartment. I think a few decor changes and a good scrub down will fix it right up. But the room I think is the smallest I have ever lived in, maybe not including dorm rooms. And the apartment has a funny smell, which, again, I think could be remedied by some cleaning and some candles.

Meanwhile, Hurricane Gustav looks like it's about to demolish New Orleans (again). And I can't read about this stuff. Because then how can I legitimately feel sorry for myself..."oohh waaah....my apartment that is not about to be destroyed is too smaaallll" "booohooo...my back hurts from moving all of my possessions, and not even just the ones that mean the most to me." Other people and their catastrophes really rain on my self-indulgent pity parade.

The movers were two hours late coming and they did not call. I was pissed because I was aready at the storage unit and just had to sit on the sidewalk with all my stuff like an abandoned kid. For two hours. It wasn't like I was at home and could dick around finishing stuff or plug the tv back in or something. After they were done moving and I paid them, the mover had the gall to ask me for a tip. Are you kidding me? You're gonna ask me that after you were two hours late. What a jackass. Irreminded him that they were two hours late. So then he whines, "you're on the third floor. I got all sweaty"
That's right asshole, cuz you're a MOVER....you MOVE things....and when one moves, one gets sweaty. Deal. I did not give him a tip. My tolerance for being ripped off is pretty much nil at this point.

Oooh my life is so saaaddd...I had to argue with a guy to not tip him the equivalent of the average monthly income in Ethioooopia.

Boo to social consciousness.

Thwarted by technology

Thursday morning I got a text from a dude that I have been trying to cut out of my life. Later that morning, I accidentally spilled water all over my phone, frying it and impeding my ability to text. I would have texted back, because I have no self control, so it was clearly the universe intervening before I created further heartache for myself.

The universe wasn't thinking ahead though, and I emailed the dude while I was at work. Then I spent all Thursday and Friday and also Saturday being irritated, that although we had emailed back and forth a couple times, it wasn't to the degree I would have liked. So I was all mopey.

Friday night the dude called me and left a message (EVEN THOUGH I had said my phone was broken. Fucking moron). I can see phone calls and texts, but I can't reply or call back. A few of the keys on my phone still work though, including the one that gets me to voicemail, but not the numbers in my password (side note, I really hate having to have a voicemail password. I don't give a shit who listens to my voicemail. Oh you want to listen to my mom calling to tell me to remind her to tell me a funny story about what happened at the market? Be my guest.). So I go to the website to change my password to numbers that work on my phone. The message that I got was "Invalid Mtn." Which, a websearch tells me does not mean I have an invalid mountain, but in fact an invalid mobile telephone number. Which is bullshit, the website enters it for you and it is actually my phone number. No dice there, can't listen to the voicemail. I would probably have emailed the dude, but...

Saturday night my roommate got drunk and spilled crap all over our cable modem. No more internet. I am in Starbucks paying 6 dollars for an hour...although a hobo just told me there's a free place down the street.
Awesome.
Why was a hobo in Starbucks?

A lot of posts tagged "fail" recently. Things are a little rough for Caitlin right now.

mini-update.

I am obsessed with this blog One D at a time.
She posted today about the Schappell twins, and I highly recommend you read the post. Everything she writes about these twins is stuff I would say, and thus I believe provides immense insight into the core of my being. Seriously. I don't even know how to articulate that I think that my interest in freaks is possibly one of my most defining characteristics. Also, I just enjoy the blog in general so you should read it.
I have too many thoughts to blog about...but yes, the rumors are true, I am done with graduate school. Mostly I am just drained and confused and looking for a job, and there is too much to say about all of it blog about.
So I will write about my embarrassing political ignorance. Obama won the caucus in Guam. Guam has a caucus? Does that mean they have an election? Do they have electorates? They are not a state...does that mean Puerto Rico votes too? I do not understand. I am so woefully ignorant about all of this that it's shameful. This is the same thing that happened when I realized I could name all of the Duggar children and no one on the supreme court. I know all of this information about these conjoined twins and apparently nothing about our democratic process.
Ugh.
Also, I have a commentary about message board speak. Recently I have become personally offended by words I dislike (baby bump, snark, etc.). It turns out that that includes message board speak. I enjoy a LOLcat as much as the next girl. I can even slightly deal with things like "Pwned" etc. What I do not like are terms that they use on the weight watchers message boards as well as other message boards I have seen. DH=dear husband. DD=Dear daughter and so on. wtf? who would say that in real life. I think it makes the people who write that seem condescending and obnoxious. I'm getting angry just thinking about the type of person I imagine who would ever refer to their spouse as "my dear husband". I just got a little nauseous thinking that some people probably even say "dear hubby". Sick. I can't handle it. Why is it so distressing to me? No idea.
In happy news....blog readers will be pleased to note that because I am done with school and placement that I have re-entered unemployment. Can we look forward to another 6 months where Caitlin does nothing but watch cartoons, make crafts and write blogs about her thoughts?! We can only hope. But I think we would all agree that my blogs are best when I don't have a job, so get geared up.