When Monday has its way with you

Here are my thoughts for today:

1. change is scary
2. I am particularly bad with change
3. I want a puggle

The week ahead seems exhausting, so apparently my brain is conserving all resources in preparation.

Now that you mention it...

On Friday while in NJ for Thanksgiving, BF and I went to see The Fountain. After the movie as we pulled up outside my parents' house and parked, BF turned to me. "Don't die of a brain tumor, okay?" (This makes more sense if you've seen the movie but if you haven't don't worry, I didn't give away any secrets you won't learn in the first 5 minutes.)

"You've got nothing to worry about, love. I'm fine, so you're stuck with me for a while," I assured him.

Ah, the power of suggestion.

At dinner, I began to panic. Brain tumor, brain tumor. Hmmmm. I have had a hard time finding the right words lately. Mixing up words. Misplacing objects. I always walk into things. No spacial acuity. I'd spilled my Sprite Zero all over the table just minutes before - things were slipping out of my grip - weakness in my extremities. Brain tumor, brain tumor, brain tumor.

Finally, when there was a break in the table conversation, I blurted out my symptoms and asked my mother for her diagnosis. She said I don't have a brain tumor.

Whew.

Ah, the power of mom.

Addictions, gossip, and fat camp: A ponderance of the meaning of life

Over the weekend BF and I somehow started talking about addiction, addictive personalities, and kids. I'm not sure how, but most likely the leap was made in reference to one of my many addictive habits. I could have been talking about practically anything - I'm addicted to lots of stuff. Just not substances.

Tonight I'm addicted to Alias. I love that show. It's getting less and less quality as I fly through season after season, but that seems to be par for the course with any television series.

When I was stuck in the airport with my EC kids, we spent at least an hour flipping through People and OK (this was before I slapped the no-speaking edict on them). Some of my kids thought that Jennifer Garner is ugly! I should have demanded silence after that comment. They also thought that Tom Cruise has gotten fat, but hey, that's true.

Isn't he supposed to be getting married? It's too bad he'll be fat for his wedding day - he should have gone to bridal boot camp. Except for grooms. Is there such a thing? It's interesting to me that wedding days inspire lifestyle changes never made before, all to appear flawless in the poofy white dress. You'd think this frenzy would come in the early dating stages, when he'll first see you naked. I'd rather be primed for the unveiling of the naked than for the unveiling of the veil. But that's just me. Naked has always made me more nervous than beaded silk and taffeta.

I'm just gonna put it out there: I hated it

I think Mookie hit the nail on the head when he expressed his dislike for Borat. He compared him to Robin Williams. A relentless, look-at-me attention monger who never shuts up. He has no off switch. As long as there's an audience, he's full throttle. "It's like he grabs you by the lapels and won't let go until you laugh."

Yup, that pretty much sums it up.

The score

Everytime I get a graded exam or assignment back from my nutrition class, I'm reminded of just how achievement-oriented I am. I've always known this about myself - I like to be the best. It's an elusive pursuit.

Yesterday was my 1/2 birthday. I forgot all about it, but BF got me a cute card, painted me a beautiful picture, and made me cupcakes. This morning when we woke up, he asked me if I felt any older. The funny thing is, I do. Not because of my 1/2 birthday. This year I feel older, wiser, and suddenly in possession of a vague sense of universal perspective.

When my Grandma died, it slammed things into focus for me. I understand my life in a way I never did before. I can honestly say that I have a very accurate conception of what is, and is not, important.

But grades are my weakness. One number that symbolizes where you stand on something. 100% perfection. It's the kind of canned validation that I can't resist. I wish grades didn't matter to me because I get that, in reality, they don't matter. But it's just too easy. Grades are like an island in the midst of a murky and vast sea. A tangible haven when you just want a place to touch your feet down.

Stick a fork in me. Almost.

How I know I'm all grown up:
1. My students called me "mom" on our trip to California. (Probably because I'm nurturing and bossy in equal parts.)
2. I've taken on my Grandma's burden of keeping the family together. Along with the burdens of remembering who's out of town and for how long, finding out who's sick and checking up on them, and bridging communication gaps.
3. I'm in charge a lot. That's weird.

How I know I've still got a little ways to go:
1. I paint my toenails at work and stick my feet by the space heater to dry.
2. I oversleep.
3. I'm quite irrational.
4. My ex drunk dialed my work voicemail at 2am. I'm pretty sure if you're on the receiving end of a drunk dial you've not quite reached full maturation.

Chapter 1

BF had emergency knee surgery on Tuesday. I woke up at 5am and spent the morning and afternoon at MGH in the surgical waiting room. Then I spent the evening on the recovery unit, caring for my suffering other half. BF was really sick from the anesthesia and the morphine, and was pale as a ghost. Poor thing. Lucky for him I've got a pretty good bedside manner.

I've taken the week off of work to care for BF post-surgery. Despite the fact that Halloween has passed, my friends and coworkers have suggested I take this opportunity to play out my dirty Halloween fantasies á la Naughty Nurse. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say BF's not really in a good place to appreciate that. Right now he appreciates Percocet. Fin.

My three days of duty have been interesting. Here's what I've learned so far:

March of the Penguins is THE MOST BORING MOVIE I've ever seen. We watched it this morning. I feel like a bad person for saying that, because it's all about penguins, partnership, and baby penguins. But my god. I actually fell asleep at one point. Bor-ing.

That's all I have right now. Kill Bill Vol 2 is on in the background and someone just nailed Uma into a coffin. My worst nightmare. I need to go to another room now and put on earmuffs while I read my nutrition book. Quentin is too hardcore for my delicate sensibilities.

I always thought BF secretly liked the chick flicks and Disney movies I make him sit through. That's another thing I've learned. When he's left to his own devices, the Netflix queue starts to take a very different turn.