Friday, March 15, 2013

when the stewardess is near, do not show any fear

Stolen from [Search Results], the brotha who will smother your mother and make your sista think he love her.  (She will get the reference.  Perhaps you will too...IF YOU'RE COOL LIKE US.)

What’s one thing you have worked very hard to overcome?

I almost said "shyness" here, but I haven't tried to overcome it very hard at all.  It's been a barrier to a lot of things in my life, but it's also served as an excellent filter, because the people who patiently chipped through my shell almost invariably proved to be friends of the highest quality.

So let's see...I guess I would have to say that I've worked very hard to stop giving a shit what other people think about me.  Obviously there are exceptions; I care about what G thinks about me, and my friends and family, and I have to care what my boss thinks about me, of course.  But if some random stranger in the car next to me gives me side eye because they caught me singing along to the radio?  Or if a coworker quirks an eyebrow when they see me taking a whole blueberry muffin (gasp!) off the treat table instead of painstakingly slicing it into four pieces and then taking the smallest one and shaking it to release any errant caloriffic crumbs?  Well, frankly, I don't give a fuck.

Life's too goddamn short.  Sing to the radio, eat the whole fucking muffin, stop caring about what total randos think about you.  It's not easy, and I do relapse every once in a while ("That woman in the next stall over knows I'm pooping!  I AM A MONSTER"), but it's so worth it.

Name at least one in each category: A book, a movie and a musical group/musician you secretly, negatively judge others for not liking and/or not knowing about.

BOOK:  As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann.  I know several people who have read this and been all "meh", including G and my honorary brother-in-law, and they're generally awesome people so I won't judge them.  But it's my favorite book ever and I've read it at least five times all the way through and my god, it utterly destroys me every.  Single.  Fucking.  Time.  If I ever win the lottery, I will commission Maria McCann to write a sequel, or even just a short story with the same character(s). 

MOVIE:  The Fall.  One of the most gorgeous movies I've ever seen, acted to perfection by Lee Pace and Catinca Untaru, life affirming and heartbreaking and just oh my god please see it now if you haven't already. 

GROUP/MUSICIAN:  Sparks (as evidenced by the entry title) and Magnetic Fields.

What made you believe or not believe in God?

I had been wavering in my faith for a long time before my mom got sick, but her long debilitating illness and death completely wiped it out because I could not and did not want to believe in any god that would allow a beautiful, loving woman like that suffer so greatly.  And believe me, I wanted to believe that she went to a better place where she would be rewarded for her pain with kittens and babies to cuddle and long slow dances with young Elvis, but I was there when she died and...well, I don't want to talk about it anymore.  Still too raw, almost 16 years later.

Describe the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

Walking through Kyoto under the cherry trees, with their petals falling like fragrant snow around me.

Besides yourself, who do you love the most, and why do you love them?

G, because he's funny and brilliant and handsome and loving.  He not only tolerates my weirdness, he cherishes it.  He brought me Gatorade and crackers and helped me get in and out of bed after my surgery.  He's washed puke out of my hair.  He's not afraid to "awwww" over cute animals.  He's a zombie killing machine.  He gave me a second family and new and amazing friends.  We have an almost alarming number of interests in common, though we will never agree on travel (he hates it) or football (not my thing).  We have our own language and secret jokes and whenever I see him, I am filled with an almost painful rush of love.  I could go on forever, but it can be summed up like this:  he's my everything for all evertime.

Who are your pets? Include pictures, if applicable. If you don't have pets, what pets would you have if you had to have them?

Unfortunately, I can't have pets where I'm currently living.  This will not surprise any of you, but if I could have pets, I would want cats.  Two of 'em, to be precise, so they could keep each other company.  I have a major weakness for British shorthairs and Abyssinians, but when I finally get cats, I will try to do the right thing and adopt from a shelter.  

What separates you from people who have shittier lives than yours?

Well, I sure do bitch a lot, but I genuinely don't have much cause to do so.  Some of the things I have that millions, or even billions, of people don't:  enough money to pay my expenses and have some left over to indulge in the occasional treat.  The love of a good man and my family and friends.  A steady job.  Health insurance.  A reliable car.  A roof over my head.  Food.  Clean water.  Literacy.  General good health.

What are the ingredients in your perfect salad?

I don't eat anything green unless it's a Skittle or an M&M, so.

What do you think happens to you after you die?

I don't think there's anything after this life, which is both unsettling and a comfort.  The shell stays behind, and what you might think of as your soul is what you leave in the hearts and minds of the people you knew. 

Now share an upbeat song. Any song you like. Either a link or a video. It must be peppy.


Wednesday, March 06, 2013

like a surgeon (hey!)

On Monday, I had my follow up appointment with Dr. S, my surgeon.  He's a genial sort who looks like an Aryan John Ritter and prone to making goofy jokes ("Hey, you ready for another operation?"), but I like him.

When I sat down, I said, "I really wish I had kept my gallstones."

"Oops...did you ask me to save them and I forgot?"

"No, I'm the one who forgot.  My boyfriend got really squicked out by the idea, but I thought it would be cool to keep them because they were like my body's pearls."

Dr. S blinked at me, momentarily at a loss for words, and then he burst into laughter.  "I'm going to remember that one!  Okay, so I'm guessing you're not easily grossed out?"

"Not really."

"Wanna see your innards?"

I nodded, and he flipped open a folder with a flourish and passed me two sheets of glossy photographs.  "I gotta say, you have a gorgeous liver."  He pointed at the picture, which was indeed a pretty liver as far as livers go, and said, "That is a TEXTBOOK liver.  You obviously take good care of yourself..."

(Here I mentally chortled, remembering mac 'n' cheeseburgers of days gone by)

"...and you were easy to operate on because you're so skinny.  Not a lot of fat to move around."


Anyway, so everything looked good: no signs of cancer in the gallbladder or surrounding area, incisions healing nicely with no signs of infection.  "If the surgical glue is bothering you, you can pick it off, or you can just let it fall off naturally."

"Yeah, I'm going with the latter option."

"And if you see a stitch coming out of your navel, just pull it out."

Okay, I retract what I said about not being easily grossed out because

Noticing my look of horror, Dr. S said, "Or you could come in and I'll do it for you, but it'll be like picking a loose thread off a shirt."

(dear god please stop I retract my marriage proposal)

"And if it won't come out easily, then you need to come see me."

He signed the form authorizing me to go back to work on Tuesday, and I sadly bid adieu to my week of recuperation.  No more epic naps or reading five books in one week or computer mah jongg marathons.  No more lounging around the house in my ugly but super comfortable nightgown with no decisions to make other than whether I should nap on the couch or in bed.  Back to a constantly ringing phone and irritating coworkers and paperwork coming out my ass and shifting every two seconds because sitting down for long periods of time makes the waistband of my jeans rub against my navel incision and that's a fat cup of ow.

Le sigh.