Wednesday, May 6, 2009

She Lives...For Better or Worse

Oh, for crying in a bucket. Even I'm tired of looking at this old post. Geez, Louise. You'd think I'd dropped off the face of the planet. If only I had an excuse that good.

So, here's what I've been up to since January 8th (my last post):

  • I did indeed have Lasik surgery (see photo). I am now seeing clearly out of my very own eyes! Well, my right one anyway. The left one is coming along nicely, but it had more work done on it so it's taking longer to catch up. I highly recommend this procedure, surgery is really too strong a word for a 34 second encounter with a laser. Run don't walk to your nearest trusted Lasik center now, unless of course you're happy with your vision.
  • I got a new job! I now work at the Best Place Ever! I'm the Transition Coordinator for an alternative school in NoPo. I work with high school seniors and help them figure out what comes next, 'cuz graduation is not an ending, it's really a new beginning. gack.
  • Six weeks later I was asked to fill in for someone on maternity leave. So for the last 12 weeks of the school year I'm a Career and Academic Advisor in Career Services at the Best Place Ever!
  • Six weeks later they gave my Transition Coordinator position to someone else during the restructuring process without even letting me apply for my own position like everyone else had, er, got to do. Umm...hey...I was uh, I was the Transition Coordinator. Didja not notice that? Well, they did notice that and they love me and so they're trying to scrape together enough money to come up with a full-time job for me starting in July. So everything could turn out perfectly with a full-time tailor-made job starting in July, when the pregnant lady comes back, OR I could be out of work and unable to pay rent. I'm holding out for Option A, but if you know of a good job for me, do let me know. I'm fabulous. Trust me.
  • In March, at the one year mark of the day I left my husband and started the emotional rollercoaster that is an intentional separation, he called me a day before our agreed upon State of the Union Address and said, "Are you happier? Because you seem happier." I sheepishly replied that I was and he said, "Then I guess we don't really have anything to talk about." So he filed taxes and I said I would file for divorce, but I haven't yet. I don't like the word divorce as it relates to me. I haven't been able to start calling him "my ex" either. These terms have such negative connotations that don't really apply here. I'm proud of us for navigating these uncharted waters without breaking a single dish, bankrupting ourselves and keeping our friendship intact. I think it's pretty impressive. And now I shall utter the words of my father, words I shudder to utter (har har) (changed slightly to reflect the appropriate gender), "I love him, but I just can't live with him." Damn. I have become my father. Ack. Phift.
  • I have become pretty good at drinking, but have discovered that I suck at singing karaoke, although that hasn't stopped me from trying and having tons of fun.
  • I'm a horrendous bowler, although, thankfully, bowling does not require skill to be fun.
  • I've reunited with a whole host of old high school friends through Facebook, duh, which has been more fun that it has a right to be. There's something powerful about hanging out with people who've known you since you were a kid. We're having a great time saying things like, "Oh, you were so hot in HS. I so should've done you back then." Followed by, "Really? You thought I was hot?" Followed by, "OMG, duh!" We get together every month now, except for David and Sol and Amy who NEVER SHOW UP! Whuck's up with that?!!! The only problem is, everyone is married and therefore presumably unavailable, which I lament because I would very much like to be having tons and tons of sex.
  • I have perfected my Joey Tribiani, "How you doin'?" look. It is evidently so powerful that it caused a tall, shiny black Cubano in a bar to make out with me on the dance floor. And then another time it caused a nicely dressed black man on a passing train to get off at the next stop, wait for me and then hand me his phone number as soon as the door to my train opened. I must use the force wisely, so great is its power.
  • I have begun to believe, for the second time ever, that I am beautiful and attractive and sexy and fun, nevermind my weight or age. I say very little about this, but it is the biggest, most monumental change I've encountered thus far. I must note that Mr. Karin always adored me, treated me like a princess, praised the virtues of my ample hips and thighs, seemed unphased by my sad little breasts and loved to kiss that spot between them. So, I cannot properly explain why self-appreciation of my figure is only happening now. Feel free to offer your theories in the comments.
  • I am happy. Most of the time I am happy. When I do get in a funk, which happens, I notice that my funks are less funky and they subside quickly.