11 minutes too long

I shit you not, my Korean friend sent me this tonight. Along with a political email and complaining about taxes and another email about globalization that was miraculously racist.
Please, shut off the tv, put the kids to bed, and really enjoy. You deserve it.

Confessions of a Teenage Overachiever

Yes, it's true. I once based all my self worth on how well I did in school. I learned my lesson and stopped all that crap in college but, I am willing to admit, it again reared its ugly head. That heart-sink feeling, that 'wow, I typed 11 pages for my study guide' and studied for two weeks and finished in 39 minutes and wrote two pages for a 5pt essay...and I got a C.

Now, to be fair, he misworded a question, which brought me to a B and misread my essay which could mean getting an A. But still, that ugly little part of me that says "you're not good enough! you're not smart enough! you don't study enough!" still rears his little head every once in awhile.

Yes, I know being bummed out about a B is misplaced. Yes, I know it's not the end of the world. I just feel like I work so goddamn hard and, well, I wasn't expecting it. I know I set high standards and that when I don't meet them, I tend to punish myself. I'm working on it.

In other news, lots of fun things happening this weekend. Jarret's pumpkin carving party. Todd and I are dressing as Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers. Yes, that is how he dresses all the time. Yes, I do wish I could have pink hair all the time. There's also a public service women's event hosted by my college and I'm getting my hair did and we are going to see PETER PAN at the Performing Arts Center! Lots of wonderful stuff to look forward to. Also, Starf*cker is playing at Detroit tonight and we may head over if we can be awake for it. I have a sore back and rug burns on my knees...I know what you're thinking but it's from decorating our conference room for Halloween. Getting too old for hard manual labor!

No-no-notorious

It just never stops.

Last night in class I realized that I had a friend who may work with the ladies who attended my unfortunate lunch at the Korean BBQ. I said: "Hey Rene? Do you know a lot of other people who work at your organization?" His reply: "Yah..." "Do you know Fran and Megan?" "Yah, really well, actually Megan  took me to lunch for my birthday last....[GASP]....that was you!!!!!" Realizing, of course, that I am the scared vegetarian.

Apparently my name is being spread at a large organization in a less-than-flattering manner.

In other news, I am tired and cranky. But not as cranky as this guy who will not be getting my vote, mostly because he is insane.

Oh, you fancy huh?

I am perenially fascinated by men who dress better than me. Maybe it's because men in my family have an odd propensity for shorts (short shorts, sweat shorts, light-colored jean shorts). Maybe it's because last week when the husband was getting ready for work I noticed he was putting a shirt on he'd worn two days earlier and when I confronted him he promised it was over a fresh undershirt, like that was somehow better? Maybe it's because I dress like a sexy grandma. Regardless, that Charles Phoenix is a snappy dresser. Though, I'm fairly sure in the wrong neighborhoods he'd get beat up for it but man, he is a sight.

A group went out Saturday night for a good old-fashioned 3-D slideshow and were regaled with stories and visuals from Phoenix. Of note is that he was nicely dressed not once but twice during the show. He first emerged from backstage with an ironic suit on that was actually two suits, one red and one blue, sewn together (Get it? Like 3-D glasses). The second suit was red and white gingham print and featured a Colonel Sanders necktie that was BEDAZZLED. It made me feel shameful for being a jewelry designer who is always too tired to accessorize.

I was relieved because I'm never sure if these things will fascinate the husband like they do me but apparently 3-D photographers have two preferred subjects: cars and boobs. The retro 3-D slide show turned out to be very heterosexual. Of course, whe we were looking at the lighted stereoscope boxes with a series of photos in the lobby, the husband said "aw, did you see the bunny?" and I said, "WOW, so many naked ladies!"

I finished paper #4 of 5 for my org theory class and I can't wait to get it out of my hands. Only one more paper and then I can coast until December.

Tomorrow is mom's 49th birthday and I am very sad to be in another state. I wish I was picking her up for brunch, a massage, some nail art from my favorite nail shop, and an afternoon of antique shopping. The bad news is that we're not doing that tomorrow. The good news is that we ARE doing that on November 12, 13, 14 when I will have all my homework done ahead of the weekend so we can just have fun. Please raise your glass to the smartest, warmest, most jubilant and wonderful woman I know, my mom.

Hired a new nutritionist, feeling very nourished

The call finally came, my friend from the Korean association. I'd been telling myself I needed to call and just say hello since I departed so rapidly from the uncomfortable lunch last week but I just couldn't bring myself to do that. Instead, I waited. Here is as close to an actual recording as I can get:

Me: Hello? [Guess what? I know his number.]
Him: Hi! Jessica! I've been meaning to call you!
Me:.....[panic at potentially having to explain sexism to this man]...
Him: Yeah, you did not eat very much last week and....I have been very worried
Me: Why??
Him: Well, I am just worried you are not getting proper nutrition...you may be undernourished...
Me: [in the most positive, upbeat, totally-not-uncomfortable voice possible] OH! You don't need to worry about that! I'm fine! I just don't eat very much! Thanks for your concern! Have a great weekend!
Him: OK, bye.

It struck me that I was protecting this man from the truth. First, that I hated the lunch; second, that I hate talking politics with...well, anyone; third, that I felt alone there and like I wasn't ready for the responsibility; fourth, that I thought he was a raging sexist; fifth, that if he was joking, he didn't know me well enough to do so.

But my mom taught me a long time ago that people don't just change. You can't convince an old Korean man that Loretta Sanchez is rad or that hunks of steaming meat are not rad. He's just going to do his thing and I'm going to have to do mine. Confrontation is pointless and the best plan for me is to make it ok so I can just do my job. A friend reminded me, brilliantly, that in the future it's "against company policy" to accept any meals from clients.

But it was really hard to not say: "BITCH PLEASE! I'm overweight by like 40 pounds!" Yes, I understand you can be overweight and not be getting the proper nutrients but it does look pretty ridiculous for him to tell someone 15 inches and 75 pounds more than him that he's worried I'm "undernourished."

In other news, Charles Phoenix is tomorrow and I am so excited. Charles holds a special little place in my heart. I hope to post pictures this weekend from that event.

Glad the week is over. Decided to write a term paper on this instead of my perception that all women executives at my work are embarrassingly underpaid when compared to their more penis-enabled cohorts. It just made me feel too much like burning a bra. This is more timely and makes me feel like eating hummus so I can let my friend know I am a-ok on the nutrition front.

p.s. Don't tell the cats we're taking them to get microchipped tomorrow morning. I'm tired of worrying about them getting out because they insist on being naked (read:collarless).

Can't stop the craft

First, updates.

Food crisis was averted at Joe's by a slim margin. No one ordered a bucket of torture and my salad was all right. They did however bring it out first with bacon and then remedied that quickly. I mean, I know you're a seafood restaurant and all and perhaps not familiar with more traditional meats but bacon, as it turns out, comes from an animal. Someone at the table said "well, bacon is more like meat candy", which I liked.

Had my first midterm last night. Class began at 7pm and I was out the door at 7:39pm, home by 8:00pm. This sounds promising however, for whatever reason, I could not fall asleep. My mind was racing with ideas and solutions for the Halloween conference room competition that I was not going to participate in.

You see, people get a whif of someone who can MacGyver some newspaper into a papier-mache mask and they target you like a fat zebra. Someone sent an email out about coordinating the decorations for the conference room and added at the bottom: "Jessica! I hear you have a talent for this stuff!" so I was immediately thrown on a committee, pressed for ideas and committed to winning the competition. Unfortunately, I swore up and down when I was promoted that I would remove myself from all frivilous tasks. No more decorations, no more planning lunches, no more Halloween coordination, nothing that could make people see me as anything less than a professional. Well, all that's gone to shit. My cube is decorated with sparkly skulls and spider web, I planned my boss' birthday lunch and conceived the idea for our Halloween event. Craft is like crack and I can never get enough.

Side note: I work with a lot of operations folks who tend to be a bit like engineers: dry, prompt, a little off. When I completed my decorations one middle-aged man walked by, took it all in and said "Yeah, I assumed you would be one of those." Hilarious.

When I told the husband that I was participating in Halloween despite my vehement declarations that I would not, under any circumstances, participate, he laughed and said that I'm having some serious withdrawls and that there is an embossing tool-sized hole in my heart now that school's in session. Truth!

Our company craft fair is in a few weeks and I am holding myself back. I have some rings leftover from a summer craft fair so I may try and hawk a few for some Christmas money. The husband has placed an advanced order for a PS3 because apparently 5 gaming systems aren't enough...says the woman with an entire drawer of rubber stamps.

Ready! Set! Crab!

I normally don't pay much attention to not eating meat but this week is rife with uncomfortable meat experiences, so please accept my apology for unintentionally flaunting my superiority...I mean vegetarianism.

An interesting phenomenon occurs when you tell people you are a vegetarian. It is sometimes akin to telling people you're gay. If they don't know any vegetarians, they are uncomfortable. Sometimes people accept it with a brief explanation that is normally something like: 'think about whatever you eat, and subtract meat - that's what we eat.' Sometimes it makes people angry. Though, admittedly I've never been persecuted for not eating meat, so maybe it's not the same.

I am reminded of one such occassion when I spent my first Thanksgiving when Todd and I were dating with his extended family. One cranky aunt quipped, when we didn't accept turkey, "WHY DON'T YOU GIVE ME A LIST OF WHAT YOU CAN EAT THEN!" Ouch lady, calm down and pass the mashed potatoes.

This week my new team decided we would honor the boss with a trip to Joe's Crab Shack. Have you been there? If not, let me explain why it belongs in one of the inner circles of hell.

First, I do not like to be humilated while I eat. I don't even like the threat of people potentially humiliating me while I eat. I also do not like to see servers, people who are forced to pick up people's disgusting leftovers, take shit from all sorts of customers, and all for lousy pay and marginal tips, be expected to dance like trained bears for the people who are short-tipping and making their lives miserable. It's barbaric.

Second, I'm ok with you eating meat. I really, honestly, don't care. Eat a hamburger! Cut that steak! But I really don't need to see you rip carcass apart. The tables at "le shack' are used as plates. They give you a giant bucket for dead fish to rip apart with your grubby little hands. Again, barbaric.

I am dreading this. It's worse that it makes me look like a crappy member of the team so I have to smile and order a side salad and pretend that I am super full (please pass the bread!!). A friend suggested I order dessert for lunch, which is tempting.

Third, I am going to be expected to pay for a lunch that I didn't eat. Joe's Crab Shack will charge me for a salad as though it had meat on it. Do you know how much lettuce costs? Basically nothing.

Well, off to fit into my new department. Looks like someone will be stopping by Chipotle on their way to class!

Korean BBQ, not for me

So I started a new job and grad school within 3 weeks. I can handle it but it's been a challenge. The new job is sorta sink or swim, grad school is sorta sink or swim. I am swimming but in an old timey bathing suit with a classy handlebar mustache.

For the new job, I had to go to a lunch with a Korean association who receives grant money from my program. They made me tour the facility they refuse to air condition and then they made me go to lunch.

First, coffee. We all use the same spoon which we dip in the creamer and then in the coffee, then in the brown sugar, then in the coffee. The third person who did this LICKED THE SPOON. It got me thinking...During coffee they talked politics while I politely declined to state my political affiliation. They were looking forward to the day that Republicans ruled again (except for Sarah Palin, they HATE her, which made me laugh out loud). The bummer is that I am a flaming liberal but I was wearing my Nancy Regan suit that day and pearl earrings which makes me look like, you guessed it, Will Ferrell as Janet Reno (was she a Republican? well, she looked like one anyway*).

Then, a photo. They blew up the grant check really large and made me take a photo with them as though I was the benefactor, which made my tummy hurt. It's all about perception. I'm also 5'11" with no shoes on and have flaming red hair...picture me and 5 Koreans. Are you picturing this?

Then onto KOREAN BBQ. I'm a vegetarian. I took some salad and what appeared to be spicy bok choy and ate quietly, slowly, as my favorite suit soaked up the steam from liver, stomach, bacon, beef, chicken etc. I got a little nauseous and then excused myself promptly after this comment:
"Boy, your husband must really love you...you eat so little....you don't cost him very much to keep."

And so ends my tolerance for other cultures.

*upon further research, homegirl was a democrat and had a very unfortunate middle name: Wood.

Shoes

One way I've found myself unwinding from a long day lately is buying shoes online. The first pair was purchased after I realized my current leopard print shoes were...moulting, I guess is the word. They looked like they needed to be taken to pasture. Which is sad. They were a Target find $29 and pointy with a Betsey-Johnson esque patent leather bow. Sigh.

So I bought a replacement pair from Nordstrom and the experience was like fifteen thousand back massages. I bought them online and chose "pick up in store" and they were waiting for me at the customer service counter less than 12 hours later all packaged and beautiful.

Then I decided, hmm, all my black heels smell like stinky feet. Time for a new pair! I'd been eyeing a pair at Aerosoles and bought them on 10/8/10. I was charged $75 on 10/8, another $75 on 10/9, and ANOTHER $75 on 10/11 for ONE PAIR OF SHOES. I called 10/12, they told me they'd refund but that it would take a day or two. It took more than 2. Then they never told me they weren't available from the warehouse so they had to ship from NYC. THEN they never told me they shipped. I called to complain, something I hardly ever do. The girl just said "umm.......hold on" and made me hold for several minutes only to come back and tell me she'd send it to her manager. OK. What the hell are they going to do?

Anyway, they arrived today and they are.....ugly. Yep. They look like shoes my mom had in the 80s. I look like a very classy 80s secretary.

Now I have to try and return these behemoths and I just don't wanna. Taking them to the store tomorrow. So much for therapy.

Graduate school is mostly tiring

It is true that students get older but it never gets less "high school." There are cliques, labels, and there is a marked return to the most fearful part of school: that no one likes you.

After almost every class, someone asks: "Did I talk to much? Do you think people are upset because we kept them there longer?" Admittedly, this person is often me but I can find comfort in asking it that the other responses are often "I thought I was talking too much too!"

I find myself looking at people's shoes, judging. We make fun of one another like siblings. Everyone sits in the same place every class. One day a row of guys who always sit next to one another wore the exact same blue button-up shirt and black pants. You can imagine how well that went. 

Right now I am studying for a midterm and writing my 4th paper in 8 weeks. It's rather slow-going. Paper is about NASA, namely the Challenger and Columbia explosions and the internal workings at NASA that allowed people to knowingly overlook safety issues. 

Midterm is for an HR class wherein the professor gave us a study guide and even revealed what the essay will be on: motivation. I don't think it's more than 30 questions long. Someone urged him to create a word bank and I think he agreed. Isn't that bizarre? I mean, we are not in 7th grade. We're supposed to be learning this stuff so we can be in these professions and use this theory to run departments, right? But then again, my husband has been calling me "The Hermoine Grainger of the MPA program." Touche.