What Is Boredom?

It has been way too long since I last blogged. To say I'm busy is too cliche (because really, who isn't?). But in all honesty, I have been up to all kinds of things lately - not to mention, I have moved into a new apartment and have yet to set up my Internet!

When I was little, I used to complain to my mom all the time that I was bored. After playing bookstore by myself for hours (yes, I played bookstore with all of my Babysitter's Club books sprawled out and a book light that I used as a price scanner) and dressing my American Girls doll in a new outfit, my to-do list was complete. My mom's response to my complaining? "I don't even know what being bored is like!" And oh, how I understand the meaning of that now.

Don't get me wrong - this is a good thing. In my last job, I would finish the day on the dot at 4:30, make myself dinner, do Zumba if I felt so inclined and head to bed at a decent hour. It's nice to have free time after work to get things done, but I also felt I had plateaued mentally. Was I getting dumber? Each day was the same - predictable, fairly easy and monotonous. Without something to push me every day, I wasn't being challenged. So now that I've moved on to to my job at a big time agency, my need for a challenge has been met to the 10th degree. No more monotony. No more cooking dinner every night. And my membership to go to Zumba has been cancelled due to lack of usage. My last year has been mostly taken over by this new job.

Recently, a friend of mine who used to do PR told me how much she doesn't envy my crazy work schedule (and by crazy, I mean not taking lunches, sometimes forgetting to go to the bathroom as I'm chained to my desk, and typically working straight through the day with no breaks and very little breaths). It's a lot more fast-paced than I'd anticipated, but there are others who work even longer hours, check their BlackBerrys at night and regularly work weekends. I have to draw the line somewhere, or I'll really lose my mind. Still, my work schedule is more demanding than most of my friends'.

Call me defensive, but although my friend told me how glad she's not working a crazy job like me and is instead working somewhere with a more flexible schedule, I'd rather be in my shoes. I like this crazy train I'm on where the deadlines are fast and ever-present, the client demands increase by the day, and my brain/patience/mental stability are tested constantly.

The old adage "no pain, no gain" is true. This "boot camp" of a career path is what I need. It's a fire lit under me that has taught me to be a better worker, better communicator and better professional. Sure, do I sometimes wish to trade places with people who make more money and/or work less hours? Definitely.

But this is good for me. I need this discipline. I've only been at this job for a year, and I've grown by leaps and bounds. Who knows where I'll be in 2, 5 or 10 years from now? If it's anything like it is now, I'll still have no clue what boredom is.

While I do love my job, it doesn't mean I've given up my life outside of it (thankfully!). I'm loving my new place, which is in the old neighborhood I grew up in as a kid. Sure, this hood has more stabbings than the bubble I lived in out in the 'burbs, and my apartment complex is sandwiched between Section 8 hell and a halfway house for those fresh out of the looney bin, but it has character. And Ty literally lives down the street, so it's nice knowing he's a 30-second walk away. Plus, my commute to work is so much better!

Also, in other news, I was recently asked to be the Maid of Honor in my friend's wedding in Portland next year. Wow, what an (for lack of a better word) honor. Along with feeling flattered, I'm also apprehensive if I'll be able to live up to the expectation of being the bride's right hand woman. I'm not exactly what you'd call bridal - I don't have a Pinterest account with gobs of photos for inspiration for my big day, and I'm seriously considering eloping when I'm ready to get married. But my friend chose me for a reason, and if that means getting her the best stripper money can buy for her bachelorette party, then dammit I will rise to the occasion!

All in all, life is pretty grand. I hope to order Internet for my new place soon (it's been more than a month, after all), so maybe then I'll be more on top of blogging. Stay tuned!

One Year

Last week Ty and I celebrated our one year.

Holy moly!

This might not seem like a big deal to most (particularly given how the majority of my friends have gone well past that one year mark - many of them doing so in frickin' high school), but it's a huge milestone for me on many levels.

Our first photo taken as a couple - July 2011.

First, I've never made it to one full year without breaking up with a guy. I think I've made it about 6 months before the Honeymoon Phase starts to fade. Then I end it, regret it a day later and beg my way back into the relationship, usually stealing lines from "Dawson's Creek" (the early years, when Joey was still trying to "find herself" at 15).

Second, there was a brief moment there where I was worried about where Ty and I were going. I was questioning it all, and I figured it just meant things were on the outs.

But thankfully, things went back to good. We found a way to work it out. This is a huge step for me - as driven as I am, I'm a bit of a quitter. If things aren't going well, I want to pack my bags and head for the hills (or, rather, my side of the creek). It's not a very good trait, but I'm incredibly proud of myself for recognizing what was wrong (mostly my outlook and attitude) and fixing it! So elementary, yet such a big deal to me. I didn't quit this time, and boy, did it pay off. I've found my Pacey Witter!

It's been one crazy year - falling in love, starting a new job and now moving into a new apartment in a new neighborhood. I've had to let go of some things, make room for new things and basically just settle into this new phase in life - that time when college is even more distant in the past, yet you're not completely "settled down" and falling asleep to the sound of your ticking biological clock. It's a strange, in-between phase, the mid-20s. But so far, it's been pretty grand.

What can I say about my year with Ty? He has inspired me to be a happier person - not because my happiness relies on him, but because he looks at life and appreciates all things big and small. He's taught me that happiness is a choice - it's how you view things and not take them for granted. He enjoys every bite and sip of life, and I want to do the same!

So here we are, a year later. We've figured out the basics of how the other operates, and I feel like we've got a stellar foundation under us.

What's next?

Well, that remains to be seen. I see another year of date nights, outdoor adventures, family extravaganzas and living literally down the street from one another (I call it Living Together with Training Wheels). I am hopeful for many more years together. If they're anything like this last one, then it's a good life!

Obligation

Coming from a Catholic background, I am very accustomed to the feeling of guilt.

I feel guilty on the regular - guilty for watching "The Bachelorette" instead of going to the gym. Guilty for leaving work at 5:45 instead of 6:45 like so many of my colleagues. Guilty for relaxing on my weekends instead of getting every single chore done.

It's exhausting, to say the least.

Today, Ty told me to not be so hard on myself. I've been feeling a bit blue today and beating up on myself for not doing this and that. It's difficult to be pulled in so many directions. It's one of the reasons I hate making decisions and having too many choices - I loathe feeling like I'm missing out on something else I should be doing.

This whole obligation issue makes me quite the doormat at times. I can't count how many times I've done things I don't want to do, simply out of obligation. I wish I could be carefree enough to take care of myself and not worry about the aftermath, but then I just feel selfish. Where is the middle ground? When do you take care of you while also pleasing others?

I think this might just have to be an aspect of my personality that I have to deal with. I'm a people pleaser, plain and simple. It sure comes in handy when it comes to work - pleasing co-workers, pleasing the boss, pleasing clients. I'm very good at taking direction - I just hope this won't hinder me in the future by giving me the reputation as someone who will always be the "doer" and the follower, not the leader.

There's my self-reflecting rant for the day! I just did some yoga, which helped for sure. And writing this all out makes me feel loads better. Here's to another week - hopefully obligation and guilt-free.

Perspective

Ever the complainer, I tend to moan and groan over trivial things. It's been that way since I was a kid, and I don't like that about myself. But sometimes, you just get stuck in your bubble, and small things become big things.

And then someone in your family gets stage 4 lung cancer. And then has a stroke. And then your grandma has hip surgery, goes to rehab and has to learn how to walk again at 86 years old.

Talk about putting things in perspective.

These last few weeks have been a bit tough. I was bitching about small health ailments I was experiencing, dreading my pending move to a new apartment and stressing over the pressures of work. But none of that matters in the grand scheme of things. My family is #1 to me, and if anyone is hurting or struggling, I immediately feel petty and ridiculous over sweating the small stuff.

So now, while my Grams has improved and those minor annoyances in my life have subsided, I still have a family member who will not be with us much longer. It's awful.

Thankfully, my family has so much strength. And I no longer need to stress over irrelevant things. It's the big stuff - family - that matters.

Honesty Is Not Always the Best Policy

I love my boyfriend dearly - quirks, idiosyncrasies, strange habits included. He's loyal, he's thoughtful, he's attentive, he's honest.

And therein lies the problem. This fool is a little too honest.

Last weekend, he and I headed to the East Bay to visit his best friend Matt and Matt's girlfriend Kim. On the drive into town, Ty says, "I know a girl who lives around here that I tried really, really hard to hook up with back in college."

Okay. Moving on.

We drive a little closer to Matt and Kim's place.

"Yeah, that girl I know - she works in a restaurant here. Her name's Kate."

All righty. Swell.

I didn't think anything of it because frankly, college was a bagillion years ago.

We got to Matt and Kim's, and they took us out for beers. The place we went to was great, and after we finished up, we decided to walk to another bar down the street. As we near the bar, what happens to be right next door to it? Yep, that's right - the restaurant Ty's little college friend works at.

"I'm going to go see if she's there and say hi," he says. Fine. Again, not stressing at this point because what are the chances this chick still works at the same restaurant? Plus, Ty is Mr. Friendly with everyone, so nothing unusual there.

But of course, while Matt, Kim and I are sitting in the bar, who walks up to us with Ty in tow? Good ol' college hook up Kate. W. T. F.

Apparently, by some miracle (misfortune?) she still works there, and instead of looking through the window, confirming employment and heading back to the bar, Ty thought it was a smart idea to go in with a welcome wagon. I guess when he told her he was hanging next door with his girlfriend and some friends, she got the grand idea to pop on over to say hi.

Not only did this chick have a lip ring, but she genuinely used the term "hyphy" in a sentence. W. T. F.

These are the types of women my boyfriend was so hung up on?!? Not like my past doesn't have its share of train wrecks, but lordy. Why did he try so hard with Hyphy?

Immediately my irritation kicked in, and I gave some serious attitude to Ty. I was not in the mood to be the "cool" girlfriend that puts on my chipper face and introduces herself, acting completely care-free. Uh uh. Nope. Not gonna do it.

Instead I went the green monster route - I gave her the cold shoulder, barely acknowledged her presence and subsequently downed 3 shots of whiskey. She didn't hang for long, but the effect of the Jameson sure did.

Needless to say, the evening was a bust. I was annoyed with Ty (albeit nicely drunk and annoyed), and I'm sure I looked like a psycho, insecure bitch to his friends. In the end, he and I talked it out and are totally fine now. I'm still trying to decipher why I reacted the way I did when I'm not at all worried about Ty liking anyone else. I'm very secure in what we have, but for some reason, seeing her struck some kind of chord.

My guess is that it was your typical not-feeling-your-best kind of weekend for me - my hair was frizzed to the max, and I had no makeup on (hey, it was the weekend and I'm lazy). So for some reason, maybe my fleeting low self-esteem got the best of me.

Ty and I finally came up with a solution so this won't happen again (and no, it's not me taming my 'fro better and slapping on more rouge) - he said he's not going to be so blunt when it comes to talking about his past. If he had said she was a college friend, I don't think I would have had the same reaction. He's got plenty of female friends, which is no biggie.

But really, sometimes it's okay to not be so honest. I know honesty is super important in every relationship, but geez - I don't need a play-by-play of every past conquest this dude has had (for the record, this blog post intentionally left out additional details shared by my too-honest-for-his-own-good boyfriend. He may like to share it all, but I have a pretty good filter).

We'll see if that does it. And if not, there's always Jameson and getting hyphy.

Thanks a Lot, Ted Bundy

I made the mistake last weekend of watching a movie on Ted Bundy.

I watched it with Ty on Sunday and went home that evening. It was almost 9 p.m. and I was in the middle of cleaning up yet another pile of cat vomit (Cammie likes to remind me who's boss when I spend time away from my apartment), when I heard a knock at the door.

Not expecting anyone, I was instantly on high alert. I tiptoed to my door and peeked through the peephole. It was some young guy in a plaid shirt. Still weary from watching a movie on a serial killer, I immediately assumed this guy was donning a fake cast, would guilt me into "helping" him carry something and then bludgeon me to death. Oh and then do awful things post mortem.

The logical side of me told me the chances of this were slim, but I was still completely freaked out! Living alone is sometimes not all it's cracked up to be. And the worst part? That little ass knocked on my door TWO more times! Really?!? It's almost 9 p.m., you bastard. Some of us are grandmas and like to hit the hay early.

It wasn't very grandma-like what I did after he left, though. I quickly threw together some stuff, frantically called Ty and headed back over to his house for the night. I didn't want to stay home because I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, even though the guy was gone (and most likely one of the pesky salespeople that plague my complex often), my door has a double deadbolt and, more importantly, I'm 26 freakin' years old.

I was so relieved when I arrived at Ty's house (and happy to catch up on some "Boardwalk Empire"). I may have taken self defense in college, but there's a certain security that comes with having a guy around (I know, I know. Revoke my Feminist Card now).

It's moments like those that remind me that I don't have to resist relying on people so much. I'm always trying so hard to be Miss Independent and not feel reliant on anyone but me. Those girls that turn to their significant others always disturbed me, and I've vowed to never be that damsel in distress.

And yet, having Ty around at that time to calm my fears (rational or not) made me see that it's OK to turn to a guy sometimes. It doesn't mean I'm not independent or incapable of being alone. I just like to feel safe, and in that moment, he made me feel that way.

Pretty weird, huh?

To Compare or Not to Compare

I'm generally pretty satisfied with myself and confident in my abilities, but I know it's human nature to question yourself from time to time.

Unfortunately, I recently started to compare myself to other people, which leads to no good.

Career Comparison
There are some people who can be the first to the office and last to leave. I am not one of these people, yet seeing their willingness to continue working until the wee hours of the evening makes me start to question my work ethic. Do I work hard enough? Am I not doing enough if I'm able to leave at 5:30 or 6? Also, why do certain people hold certain titles in the office? And why are some of the office "cliques" difficult to penetrate? I don't want to compare myself to others at work - it's too exhausting, and I have a job to do. All I can really do is continue doing my best, so that's what I've resolved. You gotta stay out of office politics or you'll go crazy!

Couple Comparison
You know those insanely happy-seeming people who boast about their love constantly? Yeah, they bug me too. But part of me envies their certainty (as I blogged about before) and ability to just let go and get mushy. Now, I'm not about to start using baby voices with Ty and tweeting every sweet thing he does for me, but I do start to compare my relationship to others when I see other people pouring their hearts out. Are Ty and I not happy enough if I'm not turning into a love-sick teenager? Are we doomed because I don't constantly tell people he's "The One"? Honestly, I think every relationship is different, and people show their love in different ways. Sure, I show my feelings and wear my heart on my sleeve, but I'm not about to post the lyrics to a Jason Mraz song on Ty's Facebook wall. I show I care by telling him I appreciate him and surprising him with his favorite beer. He shows his love by steam cleaning my carpets for me when I'm out of town (seriously! Best. Gift. Ever.) and letting me rant for hours about my feminist beliefs. It's the little things that count. So I just have to always remind myself of that every time I start to question if our relationship is "good enough."

Countenance Comparison
As big as my hair is and as much as I love to eat sweets, I'm pretty secure with my looks. I've never been one to diet, wear a lot of makeup or go crazy with my wardrobe. I'm a plain jane, but a comfortable plain jane at that. That said - I naturally have moments of low self esteem, such as the other night at the Sacramento Kings game. The dancers came out, and lo and behold, one of them is an ex of Ty's. He "nonchalantly" looked through his binoculars and claimed he was "looking for his friend in the stands." Riiiight. One look at this girl, and I instantly regretted that hot dog, pretzel and jumbo-sized beer I'd downed at the beginning of the game. Not to mention, my Casper skin tone was extra apparent at that moment. Of course, Ty tells me he prefers my looks (and brain!) to anyone he's ever dated, so I know that these bouts of body insecurity are juvenile. (Side note: apparently, this girl's IQ gave Snooki's a run for her money. Yes, I know this is irrelevant since she is long gone from Ty's life, but the mean girl in me can't help but feel a little smug).

I know I'm not perfect and there's always room for improvement, but comparing myself to others is not the way to get there. I just need to stay focused on the things I can control and block out that part of my mind that starts to compare. My new motto is to just "do me." Oh, wait....that came out wrong.

In Defense of Sluts

With all this hubbub going on over Rush Limbaugh unjustifiably calling a college student a "slut" and "prostitute" when she testified before a Congressional committee on why health insurance should cover birth control, I feel the need to respond to the outrage.

I rarely, if ever, take Rush seriously. He's an entertainer, not the voice of reason. So am I surprised he used such epithets? Absolutely not.

What gets my goat is this outpouring of people completely offended by him using the term "slut" toward a woman, and subsequently demanding that businesses pull their advertising from his show.

Why would a feminist be more upset over these people "defending" the college student than with Rush himself? Here's why: I don't even believe the idea of "sluttiness" exists. Nor do I believe we should continue to turn a woman's supposed sexual promiscuity into a pejorative.

It's the same idea as calling men out for "being like a girl" or "acting gay/like a fairy/[insert more homophobia here]." Why is it offensive to be a girl? And why is it such an insult to be gay? That's right - it's not.

So in that same way, who cares if a woman (or a man, for that matter) likes to get frisky from time to time? It's certainly none of my business what other people do (although I'm nosy, so I like to hear details anyway). I'm FED UP with women being judged by their sexual experience. It has no bearing on who women are as people, and one's private sexual behavior should not determine whether they are worthy of being loved, getting respect or being taken seriously. We ALL deserve respect, whether we're the Virgin Mary or Heidi Fleiss (well, maybe I won't go that far).

Now to get personal (but not too personal - my parents read this!): I was deemed a "late bloomer" by my peers when it came to getting my first kiss as a teenager. At the ripe old age of 15, I finally experienced this rite of passage behind my fence, braces and all. Before that, I was more than happy to share with people that I hadn't done that yet. There was nothing to be ashamed of! So what happened? I got called "prude" numerous times for years. Seriously?!

Fast forward to my 20s. One time I hooked up with 2 guys who were friends, each episode just a week apart. So what happened? I got called "dirty" and "easy" by a couple friends of mine (yes, not very good friends at the time, but both people have since apologized).

How is it that I can be judged for not doing things and then for doing things - you can't win either way! And therein lies the problem - I shouldn't be judged for acting one way or the other. I'm still a good person, a hard worker and a family girl. Who I am behind closed doors has no bearing on my worth.

So, whether you're a "prude" or a "slut," I say - wear it proudly! Ain't nothing wrong with it either way. That is, of course, unless you're partaking in any sort of sexual romping with Rush Limbaugh. Then yeah, you're a major whore.

Certain Certainty

In third grade, my friends and I were crushing hard on this guy Brian. He was an older man (fourth grader) and had dreamy blue eyes.

Not only that, but he had a way with words.

"Yo Tracy...you're ugly!"

And so began our love story. Soon after our first exchange of words, we began dating (clearly his "wooing" of me was an indicator that my self esteem was nonexistent). Our long, tenuous relationship (three days) eventually ended when I broke it off (a.k.a. I told a friend to tell one of his friends to tell him that we were no longer "going out").

I spent the rest of third grade, and even a part of fourth grade, wondering if I'd made the right choice.

Fast forward 17 years, and I still have issues sticking with relationships and being decisive.

Ty and I are happy - it's been 9 months, so we're still "new," and we're enjoying getting to know each other as time goes on. But inevitably, the question of "Will this last?" pops into my head, and doubt settles in.

I constantly worry about making the right choices in life, and my relationship choices are no different. At 26, I'm seeing friends get engaged, move in with their significant others, pop out kids (well, I'm not literally seeing the kids being born - ahh!). It's an age where society has this unwritten expectation that you "get serious" and figure out what you're going to do with your life forever and who you want it to be with.

That is daunting to me because I never like to feel "stuck." I mean, look at me - it took me forever to finally buy a car (and submit to car payments), and I plan on being an apartment/house renter for the foreseeable future. The permanence of certain choices is scary. I get nervous about taking a misstep and committing to something I'm not ready for.

So, here I am. In a 9-month relationship. We aren't close to moving in together, and we aren't close to getting engaged. So why does the idea of permanence freak me out? I think it's mostly a fear that comes from seeing others so certain.

I hear a lot of people say "Oh, I just knew he was the one" or "I have no doubts in mind that this is it". I was once someone who said those things - only to get my heart broken months later.

That conviction and certainty are something I have yet to get back, as much as I care about Ty. I don't think this really has to do with him - insert any guy into his position, and I'd still feel fearful. Thankfully, I don't receive direct pressure from anyone to take our relationship to the next level. We are both content with where it's at, and my parents aren't hounding me to produce grandkids anytime soon.

And my fears are calmed (for the time being) every time I remind myself that 1) I'm 26, not 86, and 2) I have the power to change anything I want at anytime. Nothing is really ever permanent. And that's something I'm certain of.

The F-Word

I think it's pretty safe to say I've been a feminist all my life.

Growing up in a progressive household, I always felt like I could do whatever I wanted and be whatever I wanted. It also helped that early on, my feminist beliefs were validated by the Spice Girls, so I proudly displayed various items emblazoned with "Girl Power," such as a t-shirt and a sparkly keychain on my mini-backpack.

Unfortunately, not everyone gets to grow up with that encouragement, and this, along with our culture's obsession with genderizing everything, is why people today think "feminism" is a bad word.

I've explained to numerous people, mostly guys, that "feminist" is simply a term for someone who believes in gender equality. Plain and simple. We aren't man haters, and we're not trying to take over the world and make men obsolete (although ask me on a day when I'm arguing with the boyfriend or witnessing the macho bravado of all the tools that live in Roseville - then I might be singing a different tune).

Feminism to me is just common sense. Men and women are equal and not limited to certain roles strictly based on gender. You want to be a stay-at-home mom or dad? Great! You want to go work full time and be a go-getter? Lovely. It's not all about women running around braless and lashing out at women who decide to stay at home. It's about choice and getting to be whatever we choose.

I feel like with my busy job, I've gotten away from being more in tune with what's going on. Not to mention, I've stopped volunteering for my domestic violence/sexual assault causes. Ugh, it makes me feel awful because I thoroughly enjoyed it, but this new schedule leaves me little time to even go to the bathroom, let alone lend a hand to others (I know, I know. Excuses!).

Fear not, because I am still the feminist I ever was - I get my feminist magazine, read my feminist blogs, buy feminist books, spout my feminist rhetoric to anyone who will listen (my cat). It is in no way a bad word - I'm a feminist and proud of it!

Busy Bee

The last couple months have been the busiest I've ever had. Let's see:

1) 2 people left my agency, meaning I'm now doing my job plus someone else's, plus a couple added items. Not to mention, someone has been on vacation this week, and I'm covering for her. I'm not quite sure who I am these days.

2) I bought a new car! Finally. No more hoopty for me.

 

3) I turned the big 2-6! I spent the day working, but I went to dinner that night with Ty at one of my fave places - Burgers & Brew. Then he showered me with several gifts (mainly practical stuff), followed by one last gift later in the night that he "forgot" to give me. It was a box of See's candy, and he insisted I open it so we could enjoy some chocolate. Oh, there was something in there worth much more than chocolate - not one but TWO of these awesome bracelets I've been wanting! I was inspired to get them after seeing Skyler from "Breaking Bad" wear them, and now I'm a proud owner of 2 Liquid Metal bracelets (Ty, who already racks up brownie points daily, went off the charts with this surprise).

My birthday continued on - I took that Friday off, and Ty & I headed to his Truckee cabin for some R&R, as well as a cooked dinner with my parents, sister and her boyfriend. BBQ chicken, BBQ veggies and potatoes, and a bundt cake with cream cheese frosting = perfection! Best of all, I got to be with my family. And the funny part was - my mom got me another Liquid Metal bracelet! I guess I wasn't as subtle about my wanting these bracelets after all. Thankfully, we can exchange it for a necklace I also like on the website. Woohoo!

4) Did I mention work is crazy? I've been dreaming about this major project for the last 3 nights in a row. Seriously - who dreams about conference logistics, binders and IT logins? This gal, that's who. This is actually just what I signed up for! All of this hard work will be channeled into a big event I get to go to for work next week - in Nashville!!! I'm staying at the Opryland Hotel for a blogger conference, and work aside, Rascal Flatts is going to be there! Oh, and one of the Jonas Brothers. But like I said, Rascal Flatts! I've got my boots and plaid shirt ready to go.

99 Problems

"If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son. I got 99 problems and a bitch ain't one."

Ahhh, the lyric geniusness of Jay-Z.

I'm with Jay on this one these days. I've got some issues going on, but thankfully my love life isn't one of them. And I don't really have 99 problems. More like 2.

First off, I went to the doctor this past week for an annoying issue that I won't go into details about. Let's just say I've been dealing with this pain for a long time, and it's super uncomfortable. After being poked and prodded by my doc, she referred me to a specialist. Oy. That's when you know it's something tricky to cure when you have to see a specialist. So, I'm seeing this new doc next week. Fun!

You know, I can't really complain about this because this is a minor medical problem, and it could be so much worse - like an unwanted pregnancy or cancer. I know I'll be good as new in no time, but it's still quite frustrating to have to work through the pain and then take time off of work to figure things out. I'm hoping this doesn't require surgery because taking a couple days off will get me off my groove. And I'm really kicking ass at work, I feel like!

The second problem arose the same week as my doctor's appointment, of course. My car started driving funny, making a weird noise and my Check Engine light started flashing. Umm, I think my hoopty is on her last leg (or tire, rather). I was planning to car shop in February and was hoping she'd hold up until then, but nope. She has a mind of her own, that little bitch.

Thankfully, I'll be car shopping this weekend, so if all works out well, this problem will be no longer! I can finally not hold my breath every time I start my car, praying that it starts. I can't wait for that peace of mind every day when I commute to work.

So that's the latest! Hoping these 2 issues are solved soon. Until then, I just need to keep on truckin' - well, I can't literally, of course :)

Being Happy = Writer's Block

These last few months have been pretty tough on me in regards to blogging material.

For one thing - I'm trying to remain somewhat professional since I decided to friend my co-workers (and bosses) on Facebook, and they can easily discover my blog since it's listed on my profile. Sure, I'll throw a curse word in my posts every now and again, but those fly around freely at our staff meetings, so no problems there. Still - maybe this is contributing a bit to my being less candid on here?

Another reason - and this is probably the main one - I'm freakin' happy. OK, so it's not like I was ever unhappy (well, there was a strange phase in my life in early 2008 where I got somewhat emo), but this last year has been absolutely magical. And no one wants to read about pleasantness. It either comes off like I'm bragging (like all those people who bug on Facebook when they update their statuses constantly about how perfect their boyfriends/friends/meals/dogs/cocktails are.....*cringe!*) or it just sounds like I have no life outside of my job or boyfriend, considering those two things take up a considerable amount of real estate in my head.

I'm not a traitor to all of the great things that have happened in my life (because lord knows, I'm not missing unhappiness), but I have to admit it's a lot easier to blog when I have some built up tension or resentment. These days? It's pretty smooth sailing. And no one wants to read about that.

So my apologies to my 5 readers for being completely boring lately. I guess being happy comes with a price - I no longer have crazy dating stories, and my job is basically the same kind of fabulousness every day. Maybe I'm more inspired when I'm sad or angry....who knows?

Well, maybe I just need to suck it up and blog anyway. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm nowhere close to being job- or boyfriend-obsessed, so I guess I just need to get over my fear of appearing that way. And really - there's nothing wrong with being happy! I guess it's just weird to get used to :)

Speaking of happy, this weekend my food connections at work are reaping a new benefit - a free meal! I'm going to be reviewing a super nice restaurant in Old Sacramento for our blog at work, and Ty gets to come with me! So yes, there really are all kinds of free perks that come with working in PR.

Did I mention I'm addicted to meth now? Whooooooaaaa, now wouldn't that be one hell of a confession to make on a public forum? Actually, I'm just addicted to a show about meth now. It's called "Breaking Bad," and Ty and I decided to get hooked (sadly, pun intended) over New Year's weekend. While most people were spending the last hours of 2011 getting hammered, throwing confetti and making out with randoms, the BF and I were on a "Breaking Bad" binge. This show is ammmmmaaaazzzzing! I guess all of the sitting on the couch really wore us out because we fell asleep at 11 on New Year's Eve. So I rang in 2012 snoring away and dreaming of cooking crystal. Ahhh, just how every New Year's should be.

Happy 2012!