well, hello there...

Hi. I think I’ll dust off my blog again and see what happens. To all of my reader who messaged me a few times asking me to start er’ up…well, thanks! Here goes:

I…well...ok so I don’t really have anything to say and I don’t know why I chose tonight to get going again. Um…I could just update you and we’ll start from there.

Let’s see…um…my job and school are stressful, I have too many pets and a baby is moving in with me on Saturday…like pretty much almost perminantly-ish. I’m like almost a mom-type person. Which is pretty much a bad idea. I still fall asleep with my contacts in, curse at the television when the Bears play, leave the iron on, forget to pay my cable bill, think that writing papers while drinking is ok, hate cleaning, HATE my alarm clock, love the wrong people, have holes in my socks, am raising a puppy (and by raising it I mean yelling at it for pooping on the floor b/c I need to wait until the Gilmore Girls rerun I’ve seen several times and have on dvd is over before I take him out) and am planning on faking my death and moving to Tuscany to avoid paying back my student loans. But I love baby…so I guess I’ll do…ok(???) Let’s see…what else, I’m a vegetarian again. I even hate my own self for that. But it gives me room to make sure people know how much better I am than them. Now instead of telling people who smoke that smoking can kill them, I can tell people who eat meat about the meat industry and how meat was once alive. I find it to be a real eye opener. Most people have no idea that their steak came from a cow. I do what I can, you know; saving the world one pretentious, passive-aggressive comment at a time.

I’m dating someone. We get along and don’t think the other person is always lying to us. I guess that’s pretty good. I found out my ex HATES me. Whatever. The CTA has gotten worse. The hope for the country’s future has gotten better. Soy turkey is surprisingly good. Jewel coffee is unsurprisingly bad (I bought the economy size and am going to attempt to anonymously leave it in my office kitchen). I got a bowflex. I haven’t used it. I’ve decided that law students are intolerable. My brother turned one this week. I left my mittens in the bathroom and Nordstrom’s and am REALLY pissed about it. My friend’s are pretty cool. They got baby lots of stuff. I’m a happy person. I think that’s pretty strange but I’m going with it. I am over all of my ex’s. Either b/c they are fucking assholes who can’t get over themselves, or b/c I don’t really give a crap about them. Mostly the former. AANNND that’s it. We’re up to speed. So this week I will start er’ up for real. Thanks for the emails. I’ll try to go well with your morning coffee ;-)

"Why don't you ever blog anymore?"

Hey there.
Ok, so I've gotten a fair number of texts/IMs/emails/actual voice comments in conversations (i didn't know people still did that) asking me why I don't blog anymore or asking me when I'm going to blog again, and variations of the sort. First of all, thanks. That's super nice that anyone would ask me stuff about me and what I'm doing.

Second, I'm busy (for the record, when I first typed that I wrote "busty". I think that's funny.

And finally (I think we're on third) and most importantly, I don't really have anything to say. I don't have a blog that keeps people informed (like fannie, grace, and garvey). I have a "let me tell you what I think and feel" blog. Like Brita. I don't really feel all that interested in sharing my thoughts and feelings anymore. It works for some people. It most certainly does not work for me. I think I feel safest (smartest) when I keep those to myself. If that changes and I want to write something I will let all my reader know by putting my link under my IM name. Email me if you want my IM and don't have it.

Thanks,
rem

Comments?

Does anyone know where my comment thinggie is on my blog? I can't find it. I played with settings and now stuff is funky. I accept that I'm stupid. Now someone tell me the answer.

Humble Pie

I am a social worker. Like many professions we are governed by a code of ethics and we take an oath. It’s long, so I’ll just give you the gist. It a little diddy that goes a lil’ somethin’ like this:

“…The primary mission of the social work profession is to enhance human well-being and help meet the basic human needs of all people, with particular attention to the needs and empowerment of people who are vulnerable, oppressed, and living in poverty. A historic and defining feature of social work is the profession's focus on individual well-being in a social context and the well-being of society. Fundamental to social work is attention to the environmental forces that create, contribute to, and address problems in living…”

M’kay. So that’s my job and I guess I take it seriously or whatever. They call it a “helping profession.” Oh. So I guess I help people. In theory. But what about being helped? I must say that until recently I never really thought about it. I mean, why would anyone help me? For starters, I don’t need help. Further…well I can’t really imagine who’d want to help me. I’m very…average, and have been proven to be easily dismissed and disposable by people who I was sure cared for me. Cue the violins, right? Wrong. I’m actually a very content human being who really doesn’t think about that sorta thing unless asked to do so.
I have a point, I swear.

This leads me to my story. I must preface this with saying that I am seriously embarrassed to talk about this. It’s far too sharey. But I’m working on my humility, which ties into this story, so here goes.

Those of you who know me know that I am in my final year of graduate school. I decided to take a summer course. Like many I rely on student loans to get through school and when things go wrong with them…well as I have recently learned, that can be a bad thing. Not, “oh man there’s nothing on but Two and a Half Men reruns” bad. but like, “Oh man. My period is three weeks late” bad.

I’m going to make a VERY long story short so I can get to what matters here. My school fucked up my summer loan package so badly that my loan are now four weeks late and I am told won’t be here for another 6 days. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. I’ve been out of food for a while and so have my pets. We’ve actually been sharing what’s been left of my food. I’ve told a couple of close friends and was over-heard by one of my co-workers talking to my best friend from home, practically in tears. Now before this sounds like a pity-party, let’s get down to what’s really going on here.

This is not a story about my temporary poverty or my not so sharp financial aid dept. at school. So, starting about a week ago a few people found out about how bad this whole thing has gotten (for me. There are people in this world who are far worse off and it is not temporary, as my situation is. That is important to note.). And in the past week, this is what has happened:

Last week a co-worker dropped a month CTA pass on my desk and $15.00 and said in a deep Bosnian-war surviving-mom voice, “take this and don’t say a word. You will buy some food.” I peed a little. She’s scary and sounds like Dracula…and is one of the most loving humans I’ve ever met. My birthday was 2 days ago and the Saturday prior friends took me to eat and refused to let me pitch in a nickel (good. I don’t have one). On my birthday I got into work and there was a gift on my desk and a birthday note…and cookies. A different co-worker handed me money and said, “I didn’t have time to get your gift. Take this. Go buy pet food. It’s your birthday, you can’t say no.” Then my co-workers took me to lunch near my house, stuffed me and sent me home…I worked only two hrs that day. The night of my birthday my friends (one of whom is a relative of an ex and doesn’t even need to acknowledge me, let alone spoil and love me) got me pizza and cup cakes and watched my favorite dvds with me while we stared at the most perfect birthday gift ever, that they got me. Yesterday, my co-workers found another lame-ass excuse to take me to lunch despite my protests. My friend Anne sent me a birthday card with a note in it that made me feel for the 1st time in as long as I can remember that I might be worth being loved even though I fuck up so, SO much. I feel confident in saying that she is my friend and she loves me. And I don’t feel weird saying that. Yesterday my friend Donna took me to the movies and got me my favorite movie snack for a post-birthday, friend-date. Tonight my friend Kim took me for birthday drinks because she missed my birthday. But here is the kicker…I got a sudden knock on my door tonight and when I opened it there was my friend MSG and her gf with bags of groceries for me and my pets. Like, for real.

I didn’t ask a single one of these people to help me. I didn’t expect any of them to care that I felt frustrated and fearful. They just…helped me. I spend a lot of time thinking about who doesn’t love me and I risk missing the people who do. I don’t really think this was that good of a story, but it’s a true story. People helped me b/c they wanted to and because maybe some people think I matter. I didn’t know that. I hope I deserve it. So that’s my story about humble pie. Maybe it was more for me than it was for you. And yes. I cried when I wrote this. Maybe I’m getting old. I’m not sure what I think, but I do know that I’m catching myself in the middle of almost knowing something. I’ll let you know when I figure out what that is. Maybe it’s just a matter of trying to maintain whomever it is that those people think I am that compelled them to want to make me feel safe. Ok. I’m out of thoughts now. I’m going to bed. Wait. One more. I don’t remember the last time I told someone I loved them who’s not a baby or an animal. I…yeah. That’s all I got so far.

**POINT OF INTEREST: I was not drunk when I wrote this.

How I Deal With Car Doors

Now typically, as in pretty much always, wisdom and skill are bestowed upon me by those who are smarter, more experienced, more worldly, more talented, and just plain better than me. But today my friends; TODAY I get to give back. Today I will bestow upon you a gift from my bag of goodies. Ladies, gentlemen, and Garvey...I present to you…THE DE-DOORING URBAN-BIKER SIDEKICK.

Allow me to explain…

I have spent most of my life practicing martial arts. I have formally studied under some of the finest and highest ranked teachers in the United States and the world. I have trained and competed in Korean, Thai, and most recently Japanese styles. Now why am I telling you all of this (besides wanting everyone to think I'm super-duper awesome and wish they were me)? Due to this extensive training I have found that I have many physical reactions to situations that are immediate and automatic at this point. It's as though they are innate (and yes everyone smarter than me ((all of you)) I know it's not ACTUALLY innate. As in I wasn't born with it. But my point is it almost feels that way.). This most recently became evident in my urban commute. I live on the north side of the city. My route is Clark (starting @ around 5300 N.) to Halsted, and then east on Lake. It takes about 45 minutes each way. And besides the inhalation of truck, construction, and other assorted industrial fumes that are surely killing me, it's a lovely ride. With one exception. CAR. DOORS. Yes, those commuters who have furiously rushed to work (but of course had time to stop and get their quadruple vente, no foam, soy latte…one splenda ((no please or thank you.)), latte in one hand, cell phone in the other…texting, who are SOOOO important that they needn't think of anyone but themselves when rushing from their vehicle to their cubicle so that they can keep their jobs and make just enough money to make their $600.00 a month car payment (precisely twice the amount of their student loan payment and ¾ of the amount of the their Illini wall covered, Lincoln Park apartment. Well, ¾ of their portion of the rent. Their three roommates cover the other portion. Super expensive but it's totally worth it because it's within walking distance of BOTH Duffy's AND Durkin's! SCORE!) on their new convertible Saab. Smell trouble? Me too. But not for me! For him/her! That's right. Armed with the power of the DE-DOORING URBAN-BIKER SIDEKICK I'll respond in an instant! No need to stop…or really even slow, if you time it properly. I'll continue on my way while the weekend warrior is left massaging his shin for the next 10 minutes to be followed by an insta-bruise and swelling that makes him ask, "Do you think I should go to the ER? (His inner-monologue: " Oooh! Miller Lite and Vicodin…"). You too can defend yourself against these boils on the butt of humanity (random Steal Magnolia's shout-out!!)

Let me break it down for you:

1. You must first gage the height of the car/car door. Since you've been paying attention all along, you'll already know what you're dealing with by the time it happens.

2. The height of the vehicle will determine whether or not you can stay seated or if you need to rise and balance on your leg that remains on the pedal.

3. Once that is determined you will put your weight on the leg furthest away from the car while at the same time bringing your knee closest to the car up toward your chest.

4. Lean slightly forward at the waist and focus on pivoting your inside hip so that if you were to now extend your leg out to your side your shoulder and your heel would be aligned . I will explain why this is important in a later step.

5. Now that your knee is cocked (pulled toward your chest), you're leaning forward slightly, and your hip it rotated forward, your hips should be open, giving you the power and the positioning that you need to execute your strike swiftly and efficiently.

6. The moment you see the door beside you begin to open you should be in this position.

7. Then SNAP the leg out to the side. The following is CRUCIAL for your success: The striking foot must be flexed with the toes pulled back. The heel MUST be over the ball of the foot with your big toe pointing at, let's say 7:00-ish. Do the best you can (if your hip is properly rotated forward as previously instructed, this should already be the position of your heel.). If you are directly beside the car you are to strike with the outer-ridge of the foot. If the door is slightly behind you, you are to use your heel to strike. This is technically a "back-kick" and not a side-kick. But it is equally useful and appropriate in this circumstance. And Finally, AS SOON as you strike the vehicle you are to IMMEDIATELY retract your kick to your starting position.

8. Shout expletive of your choice.

*NOTE* In the event that the door has been completely opened in front of you and you haven't the option of going around and are forced to stop, deliver this technique to the knee/shin/stomach/chest/face (whatever flexibility allows) of the impeding driver. Then, shout expletive.

I hope this has been useful. I wish you luck. Remember this technique will require practice. I suggest "borrowing" the keys to a friend's car who surely won't mind that you're practicing on their door. I suggest Garvey. She's very generous…and humble. In fact, so much so that she'd be embarrassed if you even asked first before you took her keys. She'd rather you just take them and not make a big deal.If you'd like me to clear up any of this technique or further explain, please don't hesitate to contact me.

Happy Commuting/saving the environment/saving money/not playing into the hands of the big oil companies!!!

Yours,

rem

**the original posting of this can be found at thechainlink.org**

How To Cut Costs During A Gas And Mortgage Crisis; every little bit counts

Dear Aime Bergeron and Sameer Herrera,

Thank you for your near daily emails informing me that I can get "Viagra and many other items" for only $1. ONE DOLLAR!? What a deal! Normally filling my Viagra prescription breaks the bank! In a time where gas is nearly five bucks a gallon and the mortgage crisis has us by the balls, every little bit counts!
Thanks again,
rem

Point of interest:
Things I don't have/own:

1. A car


2. A condo/mortgage


3. Balls

What's Love Got To Do With It?

Love \n\ 1: strong affection 2: warm attachment 3: attraction based on sexual desire 4: a beloved person 5: unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for others 6: a score of zero in tennis.

Hmmm…ok. Moving on…

Love vb Loved; Lov-ing 1: to value highly : CHERISH 2: go feel a lover’s passion, devotion, or tenderness for 3: to touch or stroke lightly in an endearing manner: CARESS 4: to like or desire actively

Ok…right. So then…

Loved adj : held dear

Gotcha. So what’s with all the questions? Being in my late twenties (as in 30 in less than a month) THIS seems to be the topic of conversation among many of my friends…both male and female. What is love? How do you know if you’re IN-love? The difference between love and IN-love. How do you show someone you love them? When are you allowed to tell them you love them, if/when you’ve decided you do? How do you know if they love you? What makes it work? What makes it not work? Blah, blah, blah…

It’s all very complicated…apparently. In an age where if you can’t google the answer it doesn’t exist, there seems to be a tone of frustration about this big ol’ mystery…normally we’re content to allow Merriam-Webster to define things. But I guess not with this topic, my friends. Despite the definitions offered above, well…it seems as though this is very hard to agree upon.

So, I’ve spent the last couple of weeks doing some research. Confused myself, I decided that I’d stop tuning out when these discussions happen (every time I’m out with friends for the last 5 years, in one way or another) and I’d start tuning in. At 1st not contributing, but rather collecting data through observation. Like Jane Goodall (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jane_Goodall), I watched my friends and their significant others in their natural habitats.

Then I stated to put in my two cents here and there, but only in small pieces. I feared judgment. I thought I had a pretty good idea, but if I was way off I didn’t think my ego could handle the pointing and laughing.
Here is my close circle (of coupled people): A married couple…with twins. THREE engaged couples (I guess we’re at that age). A living in sin couple…scratch that…two of those. A newly dating couple where he doesn’t want to say girlfriend and she’s offering his sweats at backyard bbqs. One of my best friends who recently moved away who fell in love with a man the 1st time they hung out…and he with her. Two lesbian couples, one of which does several things together and several things apart, and then VOLUNTARILY take interest in the other person’s apart things and then go home and cook each other things while they play with their dogs, listen to music, read, and then cuddle while they watch tv while planning their next fabulous vacation, occasionally pitying me and agreeing to tolerate me for an evening so I can be the foster child of mommy and mommy. This? How can I compete with this? So, I kept my mouth shut and I watched (rare).

Now, it must be said that I have made A LOT of dating mistakes. Those of you who know me personally are sitting there rolling your eyes at my understatement. Don’t feel bad. So am I. BUT I really feel I’ve learned from many of them. I’d list my lessons, but I think that’d be boring and this post is already seeming pretty boring. If you’d like to know, just ask. I asked many of them (the ones who wouldn’t ask me if I was drunk because I asked or think I was up no good), separately and together, “what’s love to you and how do you know if you’re doing it right?” Each of them looked at me weird and then realized that this is totally something rem would ask, and just answered me as honestly as they could.

NONE of them said the same thing about the former part of the question, but ALL of them said the same thing about the latter. They all defined love differently, but said (and I paraphrase) they didn’t really know if they were doing it right. They just knew they were trying their best. To which I asked, “But why? Why now with this person are you trying your best?” And they looked at me like I was stupid (because it appears that I very well may be) and said, “Because I love him/her.”

????I thought you weren’t supposed to define something by using the word itself????

I just went back to watching. There was little for me to learn by asking. Despite my single status, I didn’t feel all that different from the rest of them. They just seemed to be trying their best to show one person out of the rest of us that they mattered a little more than everyone else in the room (though I’m sure we all love each other…in our own ways) and that they were willing to do a little extra to keep them safe and feel strong (though I can remember each of us doing that for each other from time to time…pretty much when ever we let each others know we needed it).

But HERE, was the kicker…or the point…or…well here was the thing that made it seem to work. Everyone I mentioned in my close circle who I’ve had the chance to observe during this two week or so study, WANTED the other person to love them. Merriam-Webster should mention that. Like, if a tree falls in the woods and there’s nobody there to hear it, does it make a sound? And if a girl/guy falls in the city and there’s nobody there who wants to hear it, should she/he make a sound? Or does she/he keep it to her/himself? And in that sense, did it actually happen? The love, that is. Is one-sided love actually love or does it get a different name? And if it does get a different name does the word already exist or do we get to make it up right here? On MY blog (this could be BIG!)? I asked some friends, all of whom jokingly said things like, pathetic, sad, and pointless. So yeah, I guess all of those words already exist. But they seem sort of yucky. Yet I’m not committed to NOT agreeing with them…yet.

So let’s take it back to the place where we began. Defining love and all its parts and actions. All of the love questions at the beginning that have been tossed my way over the last several years. Did Merriam-Webster do a good job in helping us to understand (scroll up)? Correct me if I’m wrong (no. really. Do it.) but, no. Not really. Those are just words. THAT I learned through my observation. I can’t really tell you what loves got to do with it…but I can tell you it has very little to do with just words. So that answers all of those questions…sorta. Ok, no it doesn’t. Not even a little. Guess there is no answer. But what about the other ones? These: “And if a girl/guy falls in the city and there’s nobody there who wants to hear it, should she/he make a sound? Or does she/he keep it to her/himself? And in that sense, did it actually happen? The love, that is. Is one-sided love actually love or does it get a different name? And if it does get a different name does the word already exist or do we get to make it up right here?”

Just wondering.