People are strange

I had the wierdest experience at work the other day. It wasn't really weird, but it threw into sharp relief the difference in how I interpret information and how other people view the same information.

I was talking to a co-worker about something, and she mentioned that our COO said something about the case, basically that we shouldn't offer job coaching which is the current plan. When I heard that I thought we should talk to her about her concerns because it might point out other issues that we hadn't thought of yet. The co-worker, on the other hand, felt really attacked and scared. She couldn't say anything because it's the COO and basically we're so low we can't even see her on the ladder. She also felt like her autonomy to help her clients how she saw fit was being threatened.

It's so totally all in how you take things isn't it? That was no big deal for me, but for someone else it's like the end of the world.

Feeling Crazy

I'm feeling crazy. Not the good, wild kind of crazy where I could wind up with a new guy or anything. I'm feeling the anxious crazieness of someone who is worrying but really shouldn't be.

I just moved into a house this week. I was cleaning last night and discovered an unused razor blade that had been left by the previous occupant. I discovered it when it sliced through my thumb. It was a deep cut and bled more than I would have liked. I ran from the bathroom to get a wet paper towel and wrapped my hand in it. Then I sat down on the ground, held my hand above my head, applied pressure to the cut, and kick my feet up over the side of the bathtub. There was a lot of blood and I was taking no chances. I had to make sure every part of my body possible was above my heart.

Several red papertowels later, the bleeding stopped. I didn't have alcohol or neosporin so I washed out the cut with antibacterial soap and then put on a bandaid and a lot of medical tape.

Today, I stapled one of my fingers. I was only prepared for the amount of blood I saw today because of the razor incident last night . Although, this time I was at work and the papertowels were a lot farther away. When I came back to the room I was setting up I saw a trail of blood down the hallway.

Tongiht I was telling my Dad what happened and he asked if I was going to get a tetanus shot. I had one last year. I'm getting conflicting information. I used to hear every time you get a bad cut, get a shot, but I also see only get the booster every 5 to 10 years so I don't develop an alergy to the vaccine. What the fuck?

Sorry, but now I'm going to worry that I'll be one of the 100 people who will develop tetanus in the US this year, while worrying that if I do go get a tetanus shot it'll be more than I can afford, and I'm totally annoyed that I don't have health insurance.

I'm worrying a lot about this. I'm worrying more than is normal. I'm aware of it, but it's not helping. Nothing helps. I feel like I am going nuts. I'm just anxious. Although, writing is sort of making this better. Writing is such a wonderful thing, it's therapy without the bills, available any time, and almost always helps.

Loving my blog and my clean kitchen

I cleaned my kitchen today, disinfected it really. It took me forever. First, I had to take the shelves out of all the cabinents, then I had to bleach the cabinents, the shelves, and the drawers. Once that dried, I contact papered the shelves and drawers. I didn't get to the bottom cabinents because I ran out of contact paper. Next, I cleaned the counter tops and the closet. Last, the floor.

Then, I got to the really fun part. I put dishes away, and put my food away. I'm so excited to have my kitchen put away. I'm so excited to have it clean. I also ran the dishwasher. The sink backs up when it runs. It regurgitates what just went down the drain and since the last thing down the drain was the bleach water I used to clean the cabinents, that was pretty foul.

So, I just had texas toast for dinner. I'm thinking about cherries next but I wanted to check in, and possibly sleep.

What it feels like to write

I decided I should write again after talking to a friend of mine on the phone. She said that she has her own blog now, and that she likes to write. I decided after the trauma of moving, that I'd try anything.

In the Peace Corps, one of the doctors (who was a hottie by the way), said that journaling is really healthy and it's almost exclusively an American thing. People in most other countries don't do that. I thought that was pretty cool. Of course it would be an American thing really. Wanting to capture every moment of your life because it may be important, and other people will care about it. No one else is that arrogant.

Thinking of how foreigners view Americans... Remember the line in Finding Nemo about the diver taking Nemo for his tank. 'Stupid humans, thinking they own the ocean' or something. And then the other fish says "yeah, but it was an American". I saw Finding Nemo in the theater and I absolutely loved this line. It made me laugh out loud but I think it sailed over many people's heads.

My longer absence and why moving sucks...

I have been away forever. I have missed you.

Yesterday, I moved into a condo in Minneapolis. It was stressful. It's still being stressful actually. I still have to move an office chair, an arm chair, a foot stool (ottoman for those of you who didn't grow up in Cincinnati), a bicycle and my bed. Mostly I'm dreading my bed since I haven't worked out how to move it.

Moving is stressful. I got into the condo with a carload of cleaning supplies. It's a good thing I did because no one has lived here in about four months and it's foul and disgusting in here. Mostly the cabinents and closets need attention because the wood has turned white there's so much dust on it. I only just got started cleaning when Kelly called me to pick her up from the bus stop. When I got to Kelly, Amanda called me and asked if we could have dinner first. At this point, I was really starting to freak out, as all big moves make me do. But luckily, Amanda and Kelly kind of took charge of the evening. It was a relief because I was about to have a nervous breakdown.

Why would I have a nervous breakdown? This is the question my mother asks me. Seriously... Well, it's just the way I am for one. Secondly, I think moving and things are too much on my senses at once. It's a lot of dirt which I have issues with, a lot of grime, there's a different smell to this place than where I lived before, different noises, different parking... Everything. So, it's just information overload and it's all I can do not to freak out.

The different parking line made me realize I have to go move my car... I'll write more later.