Equinoctial Splendor

I love springtime and that feeling of renewal and rejuvenation it can bring. My garden is coming to life again: the French lavender, camellia tree, pear trees and fuchsia are bursting with new blossoms and my newly potted marigolds, pansies and ranunculus are happily drinking up whatever last bits of winter rain the sky throws at them. There are butterflies and hummingbirds flittering around, taunting my lazy cat who's taken up permanent residence in that perpetually sunny spot on the picnic table.

And a sort of sea change has come over me lately as well. Somehow it’s more than the cyclical reawakening I've come to expect year after year; more than the habitual exchange of comforts as I transition from one season to the next. It is yes. It is trying Kung Fu and sea kayaking for the first time. Yes. It is a leisurely hike out to Lands End (where I stumbled upon one of my all time favorite things) and running further than I have ever run in my life. Yes. It is taking the deepest pleasure in eating a juicy sweet clementine and in patiently watching as my new bouquet of tulips shyly opens on the windowsill. It is bestowing myself for the first time in a long time with the possibility of moving forward, of moving through, of moving on. All of it is yes, and so much more Yes.* And hopefully it won’t be as fickle and fleeting as this season has been known to be.

Oh my god! I almost forgot to say Happy Birthday Bruno! Probably the only friend I've ever had that would move across the country just to live with me. And I would happily, if belatedly, return the favor. Yay!

*Editor’s note: Please excuse the writer’s indiscreet filching from the hallowed tomes of Shakespeare and Joyce. She may have gotten a little carried away with herself.

Blogo Ergo Sum

I've been thinking lately. I know, that in itself is something worth blogging about. But I've been wondering what all this blogging business is really about; for me anyway. I don't presume to think I could ever answer that question for anyone else. I'm just wondering why it is I feel the need to expose myself in such an intimate, yet posturing manner, to the maybe 10 people who read this. Why have I never been as good at journaling or maintaining any sort of regular writing practice as when I began this blog two years ago? Why do I have a silent moment of glee when I learn that someone new is reading? Exibitionism? Maybe. Deep seated longing for acceptance and validation? Dunno. Maybe it's a cheap form of therapy. I get to babble on and on about whatever random thoughts are floating through my head and a few people write back to tell me how it is, yo. Maybe it's my cop out way of letting my once bright-eyed and enthusiastic dream of becoming a writer die a quietly ignoble death of anonymity, irrelevance, and mediocrity.

Whatever it is, I seem to keep coming back for more. And you, you poor sod, you do too. So here's to another two years together, to limitless inspiration, lots of laughs, a few tears, and hours of free therapy. Cheers.

It's the Cavity Creeps!

Yesterday at the dentist's office I got two fillings. I've never had a cavity before so it thoroughly crushed my great dream of following in my Mammaw's footsteps by never developing a single cavity and dying with all of my original teeth. Dream big, that's what I always say. And I have to go back tomorrow for two more! I'm telling you, when I screw it up, I like to screw it up big time! I would have had to get yet another two but, fortunately for me, they are living on my wisdom teeth, which I have to get taken out anyway. Whew! That was a close one. I've chosen to blame my recent oral misfortune on the brand of "all natural" toothpaste I've been using religiously for the last several years. Now I'm all about the Colgate Total Plus Whitening. I think it's the clock that tells me exactly which oral health problem it's fighting at each hour of the day that did it for me. I mean, that's around the clock protection people! Anyway, my favorite part of the whole filling process was definitely the numb tingly feeling I had over half of my face for the next couple of hours. Especially since I had the forethought to schedule an appointment with my therapist immediately afterward. That was interesting...

-"And how did that make you feel, Amanda?"
-"I gueth it mathe me feew thad."

Keepin' it real, ya'll...keepin' it real. Oh! I almost forgot to mention that C and I went to the 2nd anniversary anti-war demonstration this weekend in Dolores Park where we met up with rock star Hannah who was up on stage providing the sign language interpretation for the whole shebang. Not only is she a complete badass and lover of all things Thai, but she also introduced me to my new favorite bar, complete with billiards, shuffleboard, and ping pong; an amazing patio; and one of the best happy hours in town. And did I mention free oysters from Tomales Bay? Yeah, we love Hannah. (Also, please note my beau's adorable new fauxhawk.)

Losing It

This endless waiting is killing me. I can't seem to concentrate on anything but the thought that I'm not going to get accepted anywhere. I even had a dream about reading the rejection letter from one of my top choices last night (in Spanish for some reason). Though I took some comfort in the fact that it wasn't from my current dream school du jour (whom I called today just to double check that my application is, in fact, complete.) "It is complete and is currently being reviewed." Yeah, I'm a freak. I do actually recognize this. But in my defense, I have gotten requests for more information from like, three schools at this point. And then there's the one stupid stupid school that hasn't even processed my stupid application even though they've had it for three stupid weeks! But you knew that already.

At least I'm not fixated on being pregnant anymore. Now I realize that that was probably all some elaborately disguised subconscious diversion to help me buy some time. Wait...wait...wait. I think I'm developing asthma by the way. Or maybe that anxiety attack breathing problem thing is just back again. That would make sense. Have I mentioned how sick I am of working two jobs? I should probably say three, but I've secretly stopped returning phone calls and responding to emails from the other one. Shhhh. On the other hand though, I'm going to learn how to sea kayak in a couple of weeks for dirt cheap as a benefit of working at one of my jobs. So that's cool.

I just realized how truly pathetic I must sound right now. I am not good at waiting. I think I'm the most impatient person I know. Have you ever wished you could just power-off for a little while? Sort of like C3PO does in Star Wars Episode 4 when Obi-Wan and Luke are having their little meet and greet? Wow. When I decide to geek out I really go for it. I think it's best if I just stop talking now.

Stay Tuned for More Mindless Blather

Things have been a bit crazy lately. I got some really horrible news last week and have sort of been walking around in a daze ever since. In addition t0 that, work has been really hectic, I have to get my wisdom teeth taken out, I have about a bajillion cavities (which I've never experienced before) that need filling, C and I started doing our morning runs in the park again, and for no particular reason at all, last week I decided that I was pregnant and spent several days freaking out about it until I finally broke down and bought a test to learn that, obviously, I'm not...oh yeah, and I started therapy too. My new therapist seems very cool, but I will say no more about it at this time lest I jinx the whole thing entirely like so many other failed attempts at getting my head fixed. I've also spent a lot of time being stressed out and annoyed about the fact that my stupid first choice law school stupid hasn't even requested my stupid LSDAS file even though the stupids have had my application in their office for over three stupid weeks.

Sorry for the lack of scintillating material. Hopefully once things settle down a bit we can return to our regularly scheduled programming of less-than-slightly amusing anecdotes and self-involved rambling. Oh wait, we never left. But I came this close to mentioning how amazing the weather has been lately, so consider yourself lucky. Because when I do finally stoop to talking about the forecast we're all in trouble.

Cuckoo for Coco Puffs

A few years ago I decided to try the therapy thing for obvious reasons. It had been about a year and a half since my mom's death and I was still suffering from daily breakdowns, crippling dreams, and, well, depression. Though it's not like I didn't need it otherwise. I can't even count the number of times I've been told I need therapy, though that's probably not something I should go touting about. As Bruno would say, "You're so fucked up, you're the reason therapy was invented." And I would politely correct him, "Broken. I prefer the word broken." Though one might argue that most people would benefit from therapy it really depends on what country or generation you're from. I remember the maybe two times I mentioned to my mom that I might want to start seeing someone. "What for? You talk to Mama about the problem!" (insert endearing Thai accent)

I've heard the same thing from my Aunt Sharon, which is surprising considering she's always telling me to stop bottling things up. "You too quiet. You need to talk or you going to explode one of these days." (again with the accent)

Anyway, I decided to finally give seeing a shrink a go and ended up chatting with a woman who looked disturbingly like my stepmother. Only this lady had a knit sweater on with a big fuzzy teacup sewn onto the front. How the hell do you even begin to talk seriously with someone wearing a teacup? Nevertheless things went reasonably well until the end of our first session when she declared decisively that I had a touch of the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and needed to be medicated stat.

Therapist: "I think it's pretty clear that you have PTSD."
Me: "You mean from what happened to my mom?"
Therapist: "No, I mean from your whole life."
Me: "Oh...okay."

So...new appointment, new therapist. I certainly wasn't about to go back to 'happy diagnosis lady' who felt compelled to compare my psycho-emotional state to that of a Vietnam vet. The next lady seemed okay at first, though she had that weird eye thing where she's looking at you but her eye is focused on something else. But whatever, I could deal. That is of course, until she told me she thought I was clinically depressed and would need medication for the rest of my life. That and she wanted to check me into an institution.

Okay, now I feel the need to tell you that I'm really really not that messed up. Really. I swear. I am a perfectly normal, mostly happy, reasonably well-adjusted person. In fact, in highschool I was voted Most Likely to Successfully Overcome Paralyzing Childhood Trauma. Actually, that's not true. But that would be a good one.

Anyway, I recently decided to give therapy another shot. Don't look so shocked. After all I did mention recently that I've been a little blue. However, my attempts at finding someone who will let me pay them to listen to me gab about myself for an hour have been pathetically futile. As of now, I've had one therapist double book my appointment, but fail to cancel with me until I showed up at her office. I have to reveal how shallow I am by admitting that I was a little relieved when I actually saw her. She totally had the weird eye thing going on, only it was a lot worse. I mean, one eye couldn't open and the other one was really crossed. Okay, I'm evil, I admit that. But I just couldn't imagine not being completely distracted by trying to figure out exactly how/where to look at her. So...new appointment, new therapist. Only again, she cancelled on me an hour before my appointment. And this time she said she couldn't take me as a patient because she has some personal shit going on that she needs to attend to. I don't even know where to start with that one.

So now I'm thinking maybe this is a sign. Maybe therapy really isn't for me; a suspicion I've had all along. How do you get bad therapist karma in the first place? However, I went ahead and made yet another appointment with yet another therapist. Hopefully things will go smoothly and I'll be right as rain in a few weeks. That's how it's supposed to work, right?

Oops

Note to self: When a friend forwards you an email from someone else and it's so fantastically weird that you respond suggesting that that person might be smoking the crack, only your reply doesn't go to your friend, it goes to the original sender, it's funny, but it's also not that funny.