It's Only A Paper Rose

I've been saying to people lately that I wish I had one of those "It has been XX days since our last workplace accident" signs, modified to fit my mental health. For the record, it has been 09 days since my last full-blown anxiety episode, and only one of those days started with the quick-trigger adrenaline response that heralds a bad day. Luckily it was a workday, so I was able to breathe through it until I got to the spa and got into the swing of things. Hurrah for working in a field that requires mindfulness and focus. (My friend the yoga teacher/Instagram happiness guru was telling me that she enjoys teaching yoga for much the same reason, and we compared notes on the similarity of the experience. When you have to hold that space for someone else, somehow the effort seems much less than when you're trying to do it for your self. I wonder if some of that is our brains' well-known ability to downplay their own problems, or if it's yet another example of how it's so much easier to go the extra mile for others than for ourselves. Maybe both.)

It's hard not to feel like a little bit of a drama queen for saying "I feel better" - it's not like I've been nonfunctional. Life has been fine, what with work and hanging out with friends, and even enjoying myself here and there. There's just been a cyclically encroaching-and-receding-and-reencroaching cloud of dread hanging over a lot of it, which makes it hard to find that deep-seated gratitude and joy in life that marks the really good days. But despite the relative lack of difference from an outward perspective, I do feel deeply and fundamentally better of late, so I'm going to own that. It's good to be feeling better! Even this insane election hasn't managed to cast a pall; I'm not sure if that's the effects of the changing seasons (hurrah for fall!), or me getting better at accepting things, or what. But I'll take it.

Another potential contributor has been my latest project. To wit: after seeing this post on Facebook, I decided on a whim to gather supplies to make 100 bags to take down to the local homeless encampments. (Aside: I find the term "blessing bag" to be a little twee and condescending, but I haven't been able to think of anything to replace it with. Does anyone have suggestions? End of aside.) My gut told me that having something positive to focus on would help me regain some sense of control and contribution, and I was willing to trust that feeling, even if it wasn't likely to effect any real change in the grand scheme of things.

Unfortunately, my gut does not understand finances well, and initially I was worried that my plans had been far too over ambitious. Toothpaste, deodorant, toothbrushes, maxi pads, and even condoms are all relatively cheap in bulk, but stuff like high-quality granola bars and wool socks (winter is coming, after all) add up fast, and while I don't begrudge the money for the needy, there's only so much I can justify shelling out while still sticking to our saving-for-a-house budget. To my surprise, though, when I started spreading the word in hopes people would come over Sunday and help me assemble the bags, I got lots of offers of financial help as well. One friend found a great deal on the socks, another sent me a contribution that ended up almost perfectly covering the granola bars, and other folks have been sending smaller-but-cumulatively-helpful amounts as well, or ordering things off our Amazon list. All that, plus several folks have offered to come help assemble the bags, when originally I had expected maybe one or two. I feel a little bit like my life has turned into the Stone Soup parable; one of the contributors even thanked me for having the idea and putting things together so she could do something to help. I'm more than a little humbled by the experience. And I think Sunday's going to be a lot of fun.

...is that sooner or later, you have to actually start doing them, and it's scary as all hell.

I could sit here and be freaked out and upset and wonder how I was going to handle the next few weeks.

But I think right now rather hum something happy.

So - Mahna mahna!

I find myself wondering if, now that we've decided to leave, Juneau's decided to shower us with as much of its awe-inspiring weather as it can muster. Literally. This is the third huge rainstorm in as many days. Usually they're fairly short-lived, or only over one spot, but we just drove all the way downtown, had dinner, and came all the way back, and the whole time it was pelting down rain along the entire way.

Audi with heated seats for the win. (Not that I'm going to mind not needing those in the future.)

It was a quiet weekend, for all the general stress caused by the premonition of large-scale upsets. Friday night I had a lot of nervous energy, but an evening spent dancing and chatting with Andy helped quite a bit. Saturday we mostly hung around the house (the awful weather did nothing to encourage us to do otherwise), and I did a lot of cleaning. Sunday I got the grocery shopping done and we did laundry, which is always something of a mammoth task as both Brian and I tend to put it off until we're essentially laundering our entire wardrobes at once. I think (as my mother used to warn me would happen when I was younger and hated housework, and I never believed) the cleaning helped me stay calm and centered, which was a nice feeling to have. (Sadly, it doesn't seem to have lasted, as last night I was having a lot of trouble sleeping. Hopefully that won't be the case tonight as well - tea and bath ahoy!)

I don't think I ever got around to mentioning on here that about a week before getting married, Monica introduced me to a friend of hers at the Viking - a real, live Scotsman named Franky (he was even wearing a kilt when we met). He works on one of the cruise ships that shows up here once a week, and he's quite a sweetheart, so he and Brian and I have taken to hanging out on Sundays when he's in port. Last week he invited us for a meal aboard the ship, and holy crow - they feed you like royalty on those boats. I had some lovely roast lamb, Brian had a seven-ounce filet mignon (and that was the petite cut), and Franky had a ribeye that very nearly overflowed his plate. The side dishes were impressive, too; the asparagus was perfectly cooked with a rich butter sauce, and the sauteed mushrooms divine.

One of the things that I noticed really made the meal for me, however, was the presentation. I don't just mean the way it looked (although each dish was quite artistically designed and I applaud them for it), but the fact that each course was just the right size. The soup course was a tiny cup of a very rich and tasty bisque; the beefsteak-tomato salad I ordered was three (large) slices of tomato with vinegarette and associated garnish; the main course varied from medium to huge (depending on what you ordered) with side dishes that were just the right size to savor without filling up on them; and the dessert, while perhaps a bit larger than I would have picked, was delicious enough to be worth making the extra room for. I hadn't even realized how much the general restaurant trend of "serve gigantic portions rather than lowering prices" irks me until I sat down at a place that did it right - I can't tell you how lovely it was to be able to enjoy each course without wondering where I was going to find room for the next, and to be pleasantly full at the end of the meal without feeling like I was going to burst. (I suppose I can see the advantage of the gigantic-portion view from a marketing standpoint, but really, I would think that they would make more on the appetizers and desserts they could sell to a non-overstuffed clientele than the measly few dollars extra they can charge for a huge plate.)

Incidentally, I would be remiss in my praise if I didn't also describe the apéritif I ordered from the bar. Given the size of the cocktail selection, I couldn't very well let the opportunity to try something completely new slip by, so I ordered something called a "Starboard Peach Martini", which, according to the menu, was made from Grey Goose L'Orange, creme de peaches, pink grapefruit juice, and passion fruit syrup. It was quite possibly the girliest drink I have ever ordered at a bar, but here's the thing - it was excellent. Sweet, yes, but far from cloying or overpowering; fruity, but not artificially so; not harsh or boozy tasting at all; and a pleasant orange-pink color. Combine that with the uber-classy presentation - in a single-serving shaker, poured over a sugared orange peel - and I didn't feel like I was in Juneau anymore. (The most complicated cocktail I've ever ordered at the Viking was a cosmopolitan, which got me well vodka topped with that lethal red mix...served in a beer glass. Seriously.) Once we're settled down again I'm going to have to track down some of those ingredients and see if I can divine the magic behind it.

We're having Franky over here for dinner next week; we'll have to make him something super-nice in return. Fortunately he's one of the least judgmental people I've ever met (I can see why he and Monica get along), so as long as we have some good beer and something reasonably delicious on the menu I have a feeling he'll enjoy himself just as much as we did.

Funny how the longer one goes without updating one's journal, the more intimidating that blank "update" page becomes when you do pull it up. I think this is about the fifth time I've started an update in the past couple weeks. The last few have ended up unsaved for various reasons - too trivial-sounding, not interesting enough, or (and probably most truthfully) too personal and/or difficult to put down. But I'm determined to get something down now, trivial or personal or no.

To start, however, is something I promised everyone a while back (even though I doubt most of the folks who read this will actually care one way or the other, not having seen the movie in question) - my Final Theory (TM) on David Lynch's Mulholland Drive. It's probably not going to be as thorough as I'd hoped, but I'm going to put down the basics. I might get into it in more depth in a year or so, when I get the urge to watch the film again.

For those who haven't seen the film, I'm going to put a cut here because what follows is both extremely spoilerific and would likely be extremely boring/confusing (which isn't to say that the film itself isn't extremely confusing, but you get my point). However, if you like movies that really make you think, and that inspire discussion and dissection later, I highly recommend this film.

( Handeth me the razor, for lo, I hath promised my readers a cut. )

Hm. That went a heckuva lot longer and more in-depth than I figured, so it's probably a good thing that I added the cut. However, I may well post on it again in the future - that's kind of what happens with movies that require a ruminiant's digestive system to, y'know, digest.

Here in Juneau, we got our first snow this morning. It was pretty wussy - I'm pretty sure that by now it's almost all gone - but it did make everything very pretty this morning. And I'm finding that it's much easier to enjoy the snow when you've got a vehicle with state-of-the-art traction control and therefore aren't worried about plowing into a berm on the way home...

In other news, Brian and I have been having a bit of a problem with fruit flies. I'm not sure how they got in - apparently contaminated foods and ill-fitting/ripped window screens are prime candidates, and this is the time of year when they're most prevalent. While pesky, their presence has inspired some good changes on our part - cleaning the kitchen every night rather than twice a week, for instance, and wiping down the counters with bleach-water every night. We couldn't figure out for a while where they were coming from, but eventually I discovered a rotting potato crawling with the little buggers underneath a shelf - that was a fun mess to clean up, let me tell you. (Brian was conveniently in Sitka at the time.) Having removed all food sources and put up a couple of different traps, we've put a pretty significant dent in their numbers in the kitchen. Unfortunately, a lot of them seem to have moved into the bathroom. I really don't know what they could be eating in there, but if their numbers don't drop significantly in the next couple of days I'll have to clean out under the sink in there and see if there's anything organic that we've missed. Ah, well.

As for the more personal business...I'm trying to get going with my music again. Part of the problem is lack of direction; I wasn't really very interested in Tommy, which is the musical Perseverance is putting together this year, and it's not like there are a surfeit of bands looking for singers here in Juneau. However, I'm going to be investing in a decent microphone with the eventual goal of having a couple of songs recorded by the end of the month. Fortunately I have a friend who's willing to do some accompaniment, and Brian has a copy of Garage Band on his Mac, which is supposed to be a very easy program for recording and mixing tracks. So we'll see what comes of it all. I have an idea about what I want to do with the songs once they're recorded, but it's kind of a one-in-a-million lottery-esque thing, and what's important at this point is, I think, just getting something in a tangible format. It'll be a step in the right direction, anyway.

And that's really all the news from the last couple of weeks...

Given how awful it was the last time I went to the dentist two and a half years ago, perhaps it's not surprising I've put things off as long as I have. But I've been trying to change my evil ways, which includes brushing and flossing daily, using prescription-strength fluoride rinse and *sigh* getting my mouth patched up.

The prospect of this last has had me pretty darn nervous the last week or so - I was so stressed that I haven't been sleeping well, and woke up in the middle of one night with a tension headache. There's the financial aspect, for one - fortunately, I am possessed of some pretty good dental benefits, but there's always the question of whether what a particular dentist charges is within the "allowable rates" (hint: the "allowable rates" are BS numbers that these folks seem to pull out of a hat). There's also the whole "competent dentist" question, which was a bit more of a problem when I was up in Barrow and didn't have much in the way of choice. Fortunately, I seem to be covered on that score - I've been seeing Dr. Laskey, a very awesome dentist whom BD's lovely wife Connie referred me to. He has a very laid-back attitude (apparently he's a farm kid from some tiny town in Iowa or someplace), a very nice bedside manner, and (as Connie put it) "is very good with Novocaine and patience." Which is a bit of a relief, since God knows if there's anyone who needs a patient dentist it's me. His hygenist didn't even give me a half-hour lecture on the effects of not flossing/brushing regularly - she seemed to respect my intelligence enough to understand I could draw the connection myself when she told me that I had some pretty severe gingivitis and a chronically abscessed molar. So I'm trying to do my part and work on oral hygiene habits. I'm actually proud to say that I haven't missed a single day in the couple of weeks since my first appointment.

The last aspect that was stressing me out, however, was the actual dental work itself - I've had some pretty bad experiences with it in the past. Yesterday I had an appointment to get a temporary filling for my chipped premolar (the idea being that if all goes well, my tooth will have a chance to rebuild and in a year or two I can get a more permanent filling). I was pretty darn nervous about it all the day before and all that morning. (Since Brian and I had the day off work, he took me out to breakfast before my appointment that morning, which helped immensely - thanks, m'love.) I really didn't have any idea what the procedure was going to entail, though I figured that rebuilding a chipped tooth was going to be something semi-major, involving several Novocaine shots and various medieval-looking implements of heinous design. So the anticipation really sucked.

However, once I got there, it actually wasn't so bad. It didn't even live up to a tenth of my anticipation. Roughly speaking, I'd say it was about five minutes for two shots, five minutes to let them take effect (during which Dr. Laskey tilted the chair towards the window so I could look out over the Gastineau Channel, as well as pointed out an eagle who had taken up roost nearby), ten minutes of drilling, five minutes of scraping with only vaguely medievalesque instruments, ten minutes of applying some really nasty stuff that smelled like acetone, and ten minutes of cleanup/postprocedure advice. I was out of there in forty-five minutes with no sore jaw and a minimally numb face that wore off an hour afterward. I have to say I'm really impressed with the quality of the work, too - it looks and feels almost exactly like it did when I had a whole tooth there.

I've got another appointment next week to do pretty much the same thing on the other side of the mouth. It might be a little trickier since this one has an equally large hole but hasn't broken off yet (yay for more drilling), but if it's anywhere near as painless as this one I think I'll be okay with it. I'm still cringing a bit in anticipation of the financial aspects (I haven't gotten any paperwork back from the insurance company yet), but thanks to PFDs I've got a bit of cash socked away, so hopefully I'll be able to cover whatever they won't. And I'll probably get my two trashed molars extracted - my mouth's always been overcrowded anyway, and it's a heckuva lot cheaper (and less painful!) than a root canal. So that's on the plan for probably early next year (so I don't overstep the "maximum benefits" for the year...yay for more insurance hoops to jump through!)

Mostly, though, I've just been feeling better about my ability to cope with all this in general. It was something of a blow finding out how bad my mouth was, but everything I've read says that if I can keep up with the flossing and such there's no reason it'll get any worse. And I guess ten minutes a night isn't such a bad thing if it saves me thousands of dollars (not to mention hours of time, and pain) in dental work later on...

I've actually been somewhat surprised by how much I'm enjoying this fall. Normally it's a time that makes me feel sad that summer's over and yet another year is drawing to a close; today, however, the crisp air with hints of woodsmoke is stirring all sorts of happy, contented feelings. Maybe it's something about the fact that it's a gorgeous clear day - after the month straight of rain we've been having, it's a huge relief to see the blue sky again. Maybe it's the fact that I don't actually have any sort of school starting this year, so I can feel nostalgic about things like new notebooks and rulers and pencils without all the stress of actually having to attend school and the regret of summer vacation being over. Maybe it's that I've finally gotten over my loathing of cold, so I can enjoy the turning of the seasons without dreading the upcoming freezing weather...though I'm not betting too heavily on that last one.

Whatever the reason, though, it's a gorgeous day and every time I catch a whiff of the outside air I can't help but just feel...happy. And anticipatory - Halloween and Thanksgiving are both coming up. Yay for candy and good food!

In somewhat more mundane news, the new update of iTunes is pretty darn skookum (to use one of Brian's favorite words). I can't say as I've ever used their video functionality, so those updates haven't made much difference to me. But the new browse-by-album-art feature is fantastic - especially if you're old-fashioned like me and like to listen to music by album rather than your own uber-customized playlists. It took me a little while to get all the album art uploaded (iTunes will pull some of the covers from its own database but the rest you have to put in yourself), and the feature as a whole is still a bit on the buggy side, but it's so cool to be able to just go flip-flip-flip through the album covers until you find the one that you want.

And on a completely unrelated note, while Brian and I were doing grocery shopping yesterday it struck me that we go through an awful lot of cream in our cooking (pasta with al fredo sauce, hot chocolate, chicken pot pie, etc.). No wonder I haven't been losing much weight, despite my renewed interest in rock climbing...

Last night, when I looked in the mirror, I noticed something distressing. I have two grey hairs now.

It's not the first time I've found a grey hair, admittedly. I had my first one when I was 19 due to the incredibly stressful job I was working (and quit shortly thereafter - I figured getting a grey hair at 19 was a bad sign). I plucked it out and saved it, along with one of my regular hairs, just for comparison. However, this is the first time I've seen more than one (and the first time I've even seen that one again).

I'm not even sure why it's so distressing. Partially because I still think of myself as pretty young (I mean, heck, I'm not even 23 until this July), partially because it's a pretty undeniable sign that I will, in fact, get old someday...though I can still delude myself for a while into thinking that Time will make an exception for me and I'll be young forever - after all, isn't that what youth is all about?

I think mostly what's bothering me about it, however, is that it's a symbol of adulthood - which I know I've achieved for quite some time now, but still feels pretty new. After all, in addition to having a stable home and boyfriend and cats, I've got a new car now that I'm making payments on - that all sounds pretty adult to me.

Which isn't to say that I mind adulthood. Quite the opposite - the fears and restrictions of my teenage years are loosened or gone, I feel free to make my own choices and take responsibility for my own life, and I get nifty things like cats and new cars to play with (not to mention steady income sources). I'm not even sure why I have so much trouble thinking of myself as an adult. Maybe it's just that the majority of my life has been spent as a non-adult in one form or another.

In other news, it's looking like spring actually is here (miracle of miracles). The sun's out, it's at least a good forty degrees outside, the snow is all melting, and I was able to go outside without my coat (comfortably!) for the first time in a while. The weather forecast says tomorrow should be more of the same. I could certainly get used to this. Especially since today I got to drive with my new sunroof open for the very first time. =D

I'm going to visit my mother in Anchorage this weekend, and I'm starting to feel very glad that I am - this kind of weather invariably makes me want to go places, so having a recent memory of airport hassles and the like should help me feel content where I am this spring.

Last week took forever to go by, or so it felt like - I was feeling so braindead by the end of it I wondered if I'd ever feel happy or alive again.

This week seems to have gone by in a flash - I literally went "Wait a minute, it's the weekend again?"

There doesn't seem to be any accounting for it. Nothing particularly bad happened last week; and I'd certainly think the whole car issue might have made this week more tiring. Oddly enough, though, it's been the exact opposite. I've felt almost nothing but happy and content, car problems be damned. Even the $270 bill I racked up with towing charges and battery replacement didn't do anything to dampen my mood - I was glad to have the money, and happy to pay for it - I certainly got my money's worth.

It's times like this that really make me believe that there probably is something to the theories of astrology and whatnot. Yes, 99.99% of astrology is just simple BS, but if you zoom out to a macroscopic enough level, everything's made of the same matter. So it stands to reason that things like the phases of the moon and positions of the planets, while only distantly related on a physical level, can affect us profoundly on the quantum level. It's a variation on the whole butterfly-effect theory, I guess.

Meantime, life goes on as usual. Brian's mother had a raspberry bush out front with lots of ripe berries, so I picked a bunch and made a raspberry quick-bread/cake type loaf. Didn't come out too badly, flavor-wise, but the recipe was designed to be used with raisins (which absorb moisture) as opposed to fresh berries (which are full of moisture) so it ended up being a little soggy towards the bottom. I think I'll try it with 2/3 a cup of buttermilk next time.

I think I'm finally finished playing Knights of the Old Republic, and I'd highly recommend the game to anyone who enjoys RPGs or Star Wars in general. It's got that perfect mix of interesting characters and interesting plot that makes for a great story, and as a game it's also quite fun. I've played it through about two and a half times now (once as uber-light-side-Jedi, once as how I would play, and then the last bit as a dark side character just to see the alternate ending), and I still wish the story went on longer. It didn't surprise me to see that about 98% of the fanfiction in Fanfiction.net's "Games>Star Wars" catagory was KotOR-based, given what strong characters it had. I'm actually a bit tempted to write a piece of my own; the romance angle between the player character and Carth Onasi kind of intrigued me. I really liked Carth...I guess in a lot of ways he reminded me of Brian. Especially with how honorable and brave he was. And handsome. ;)

Amusingly enough, Brian's and my positions are almost exactly reversed from a week ago - he's spent most of the evening reading through Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, and I've been puttering around in the kitchen or on the computer or whatever, and occasionally getting him drinks and the like.

It's really nice to not be worrying about money or upset about my life or whatever. I have a job, I have a boyfriend, I have a (now) working car that will soon have fixed brakes, I have a home, and I have a warm, purring kitty in my lap - what more do I need to be happy?

The last week or so has been interesting for me, both in terms of a roller-coaster of sorts in mood swings and a study in how one aspect of my life can control my entire outlook on said life, if I let it.

It's been a week and a half since I got the no-job news from the library. (They ended up hiring Lana, who I'm sure will do fine; I'm not really that jealous, as both Lynn and Danél assured me that the interview scores were very close.) I was pretty crushed by the news, but I'd gotten over it by the next day and immediately started job-hunting again. I applied for the vet clinic and caviar receptionist jobs, it was all good. Over the next couple of days, no one calls me, I start to get nervous. I keep looking in the paper but nothing along the lines of what I want (receptionist-type, at least $10 an hour) shows up. I'm suddenly feeling desperate and start filling out other applications - the paper route, Wells Fargo teller, etc. - and get even more depressed because apparently nobody wants to hire me.

It all came to a head yesterday when I hadn't heard anything for more than a week; there wasn't anything in the paper that looked promising, nobody had called and I was about ready to give up on the receptionist idea and just head downtown and look for touristy work in one of the shops or apply at Fred Meyers or something. But once I'd gotten dressed up semi-nicely, I figured I'd give the vet clinic job (the one that I really wanted) one more try; they might give me an interview, and if not, the worst they can do is tell me "no", right? So I headed over there, asked for the office manager and asked if they'd done interviews yet, and she says, "No, but just one second and you can talk to Tracy." I read Cat Fancy for a couple of minutes and then get to meet Tracy, the woman I'd talked to on the phone before applying; she's very amused because apparently the two applicants she was most interested in (me and another guy named Brandon, I think) had shown up within five minutes of each other. She pretty much interviews and hires me there on the spot.

So I now have a job. It's been all of a week and a half since I started actively looking, and yet for much of that week and a half, it felt like I was going to be unemployed (and therefore, broke) forever, so it feels like it's been much longer. But this is pretty much the job I want - I get to be a nice friendly receptionist, I get to be around animals, I get to be in a pretty building with friendly people, and I start at $10 an hour - and even though it's only part time hours to start with, I'm pretty happy with it. (Ironically enough, Lana was somewhat jealous of me when I told her where I'd gotten hired - she apparently would really like to work there but doesn't have transportation.) And driving home I just felt on top of the world.

I think this goes to show that I need to have more faith in myself. If I feel overwhelmed it's usually because I'm focusing on the things I can't control. That kind of lessony-type thing. But hey - I've got a job that I'm pretty sure I'm going to like, I've got an apartment that I love, and a boyfriend who's the most wonderful person I've ever met. And I finally got my $200 security deposit back from the University, with an extra cent attached, no less.

I think I can stop being desperate and be happy about life, now.