I’m always that person who takes charge of a group project when people are slacking… this time, I bulldozed a Captain.
In my defence, not a single person on the team was offering anything up, and I have charities that mean a shit-ton to me.
FRC is attempting a new format for racery - teams of five people randomly chosen, a fundraising component, and all the shenanigans we’ve grown to love.
I’m really looking forward to this one. The last few just haven’t been fun because people talk offline and make teams full of super cappers. They take off and are impossible to catch… but, with random people creating teams? We might actually have a chance to have fun this go ‘round.
So any way - I wanted to choose Cobblestone for our charity, but that didn’t work out. (Cobblestone hooked us up with with our trip to Lviv, sent us the most amazing tour guide ever, and now are helping support his family through donations. I donate as much as I can, when I can.) Unfortunately, Cobblestone isn’t a registered charity in Canada yet.
I asked if we could fundraise for Razom for Ukraine. This is a better known charity and absolutely massive. I’d rather donate to them, if I can’t directly donate to Ukrainians hurt by the lack of tourism.
Razom is the transliterated version of разом - the Ukrainian word for together. (It’s pronounced “rah-zom”)
The team ran with the word, brainstormed different ways to use razom in the team name, and we settled on razoomies, because, well, we’ll zoom.
Razombies was also thrown out there. I loved that one, too.
Our team colours were also chosen for us. The Ukrainian flag serving as inspiration.
I know it’s trendy right now to care about Ukraine, but - of course - this means so much to me, personally.
I’ve been crying on and off, I’ve been so touched by the interest.
I have bunch of hashtags chosen for the race itself and I’m so excited to use them.
If we’re friends on Facebook, you’re about to get sick of the relentless posts sending you to the racery fundraising link. And I’d apologise, but sorry, not sorry.
And I devoured that fucker in between bouts of swearing at iTunes / Apple Music / whatever the fuck Apple is calling it now. DEVOURED.
YES. IT IS SO GOOD IT DESERVES SOME SERIOUS ALL CAPS LOVING. AND THE REALLY GOOD LUBE.
There is something amazing about her writing, and whether it’s Steter / Stetopher / original characters, she always delivers. I think the majority of my AO3 Teen Wolf bookmarks are her stories.
I don’t remember how I found out about it, but now I see that she’s co-written an entire series of LGBTQIA+ stories with Discontented Winter. (And - rabbit hole alert! - this just made my entire fucking, um, 15 minutes.)
I’m going to need to get a tumblr account again just to follow those two.
Just like I had to get a new twitter account for the balloon ladies tracker.
Every time I think it’s OK to get rid of an orphaned account, AS SOON AS I HIT “DELETE MY ACCOUNT”, shit happens.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
An entire lifetime ago, when I bought the new MBP, I decided to shelve the old iMac. I didn’t need two computers on my desk; not when one of them basically served as a jukebox.
I took my little LaCie drive that had my iTunes library on it, (bought a FUCKING ADAPTER. For fuck’s sake, Apple. STOP IT.), and fired up the Music app.
Holy Jesus motherfucking crispy Christ on a fucking bike.
I had multiple versions of songs. And I don’t mean twelve different versions of R.E.M.‘s “It’s the End of the World…” - I have twelve of those because it’s on Best Ofs, bootlegs, and studio albums.
I mean I have six different “Spin, Spin, Sugar” files in my hard drive, each one sitting happily as a line in the iTunes song listing.
Apparently, the app made a habit of creating a music folder when 1) it downloaded a song and 2) every time it decided / forced me to “organize” my library.
So, I had music folders in music folders in music folders in music folders in.. you get the gist, yes?
And every single one of those folders held MY ENTIRE MUSIC LIBRARY.
I filled up a massive external hard drive with music because Apple decided to duplicate my music folder every fucking time it felt like it.
I’ve been cleaning it up in bits and pieces because when you have a dozen files named “01_Intro” you have to be VERY FUCKING CAREFUL. (Why do bootleggers all name their files like this?!?! I mean, I love the consistency, but I can’t tell if that intro is from Boston ‘95 or Boston ‘03. Just sayin’...)
I’m also overwriting the metadata on the music files - I HATE transliterated Ukrainian, so I’m putting everything into Cyrillic. Now, everything shows up in iTunes the way God intended it to. (But seriously, fuck record labels who use transliterated Ukrainian on albums.)
I’ve been buying new music on the phone and then downloading it to the computer. THEN, I have to go into the new, clean, pretty, hard drive, REMOVE THE MUSIC FOLDER, and put the songs where they actually fucking belong.
It doesn’t seem to like the fact that my music folder is “LaCie/iTunes/Music” - I’m pretty sure that’s what’s confusing things… but when I have the location as “LaCie/iTunes” Apple rejects the location and claims it can’t find my iTunes library.
I have some random files still to find and I am missing entire R.E.M. bootlegs, so that’s going to be a search. I also need to pull the playlists off the iMac at some point.
But, I’m considering the task done.
I can listen to music when I’m sitting at the computer again.
I’ll take that as a win.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In other news, I only finished the 5K and the 10K this year. Dopey attempt #2 shat the bed.
(The husband was there to watch the epic fail, but that’s a story for another time… it only took a $50 gift card to Pure Hockey (which I bought before he became an unsupportive ass thankyouverymuch) for him to understand what it means to support someone. grrrrrrrrrrrrr)
I know there’s a lot of factors at play and the asthma seems to be the biggest issue. I was struggling to breathe after pushing myself for 9 miles and a medic practically forced me off the course.
I hated the pulmonologist I saw, so I have to find another one.
I’m also trying to figure out what I do about running… I had a goal to move every day, even if it’s just a mile on the treadmill in my jammies.
And I promptly threw that plan out the window and have been sat here, licking my wounds, and refusing to even think about the treadmill.
2023 and I are not getting off to the best start.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Oh wait.
I lied.
I’m a lying liar who lies because…
I HAVE HIT A MUSICAL TRIFECTA.
I’m seeing Matt Nathanson (Mike Nickerson? Matt Petty? Whatever the fuck his name is.) in February. Dropped a shit ton on the pre-show hang, too. Love those extra moments with him. Even if I can’t remember his name.
I’m seeing БУМБОКС(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) in March. They’re finally coming overseas. I mean, I forgive them for cancelling on last March’s show, and I hate that this a fundraising / awareness raising tour, but they’re FINALLY coming.
And and and and and and and and and and and and…
MOTHERFUCKING ОКЕАН ЕЛЬЗИ IS COMING TO MIAMI IN APRIL.
Bonus: Антитіла is coming overseas in the fall. No idea where or when, but I’m there. Even if I have to get on a plane.
Still pissed I missed KALUSH because of Wine and Dine, but…
Бумбокс, Океан Ельзи, and Антитіла are the Ukrainian OG Three and I get to see ALL THREE OF THEM THIS YEAR.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more satisfied, music wise.
(Also, I think it’s time to be frightened by the amount of time I spend on the internet. I wanted to find out what “a trifecta but four” was and, wow, that was the first autofill suggestion google came up with. I don’t know if I should hang my head in shame over that or laugh hysterically.)
(Spoiler: I laughed hysterically. And fell off the damn chair.)
To be honest, I had forgotten about it and scheduled a dog grooming appointment in that time slot instead.
For what it’s worth, I was completely overwhelmed at the amount of information there was. It just seemed like too much work for a one-off. Yeah. Despite having a bunch of pocket friends who play, I’m just not interested.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I thought I’d end this with my most favourite songs from the four bands I’m seeing this year, but some of them have already been posted. And besides, how do I pick my favourite????
I’m just going randomize that shit and give you whatever the magic wheel spits out. (Just like a Mike Nickerson show!)
We’ll start with The Infamous Wheel just so you get the joke. (Bonus! We were at this show.)
When the sun is getting lower // and your wildest days are done // and they ask you ‘bout a photograph // from back when you were young // well, baby, you don’t have to tell ‘em // what we did when we were us // but when I think about it // I hope you blush, just a little bit…
Скажi менi, чому не можу // Забути те, чого нема.
Tell me why I cannot // forget what I do not have.
Хворі ми хворобою однією // На щастя ще не вигадали від неї панацею // На голову мов злива впала ця вразлива манія // Діагноз – меломанія, в нас з вами – меломанія
We are sick with the same disease. // Fortunately no panacea for it hasn’t been discovered yet. // This vulnerable mania has fallen on my head like a rainfall. // The diagnosis is melomania. We all have melomania.
[Melomania: A singular passion for music, that is beyond all reason. An abnormal love of music. A hobby or even an excessive fanaticism for music.]
Люби вільно, цілуй поволі. // Прощай швидко, або ніколи. // Часу мало, маєш дійти. // Хочеш правди? Мусиш знайти. // Люди далi прокидаються. // Люди далi не ховаються. // Нова глибина напроти нас. // Отакий цiкавий час.
Love freely but kiss slowly. // Forgive faster or never know it. // There’s a few time for you to come // You need the truth so find it now. // People keeping waking up. // People no more hiding now. // There’s new deepness here ahead. // Interesting the time we have…
There’s a key on the MacBook’s keyboard that lets me switch between the keyboards for different languages… I’ve got a switching shortcut programmed for my bluetooth keyboard, but I always manage to go from italics to Ukrainian when I don’t mean to. Since I’ve changed my computer usage and mainly work glued to two monitors, I can get rid of the shortcut and just press the button on the Mac.
ЦРН вшв ерфе ефлу ищ дщтп ещ аштв? Um, WHY did that take so long to find?
Exactly.
- - - - - - - - - -
For Christmas, my husband gave me an early “present”. He’s not going to Marathon Weekend with me.
I had talked about skipping out, true, but in the end, I want to see how far I could go.
I mean, it might be for the best, but…
When he’s around, I feel bad going to the meetups. I missed hanging out with the RTI crew during Wine and Dine because of him. But… it’s like that every time we go somewhere. One of us is always awkward and it is uncomfortable as fuck for the other one. That’s why he didn’t go to Homecoming with me. It’s why I don’t go to Ohio with him.
Also, I’m a complete shit during the Disney races. I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m a petulant brat.
Also, also, I don’t like going to the Disney parks. They’re overcrowded and I’m just not a Disney fan, but I’m too tired and cranky to go to Universal.
He’s using the excuse that he doesn’t want to go to the parks because they suck.
Which, OK, fair… but when I told him it wasn’t about going to the fucking parks, it was about supporting me, I got an “I know. I’m sorry.”
He’s also paranoid about the dog.
Guinness is getting old and it’s starting to show. His right leg doesn’t really work the way it’s supposed to anymore. He doesn’t freak out when the doorbell rings. He can’t get up on the couch anymore.
And now, he’s starting to lose control of his bowels. He’s taken 4 or 5 craps in my car on the way to day care. This last time, we were at the light right before the parking lot and he got up and… well. Yeah. And then he sat in it. Because it wasn’t enough to crap, he had to rub it into the blanket. You try cleaning out a car with some wet paper towels and then having to drive to work with the windows open and hope that airs it out. (I should really start carrying that special cleaner we bought for this specific purpose.)
Last night, he woke the husband up and didn’t even make it out of the bedroom.
So, Guinness is his other reason… in addition to all that, there’s a distinct change in the dog’s personality after he’s been boarded for several days (not a good one.) And, let’s be honest, the husband doesn’t deal with death well. Which puts me in the awkward position of hoping that the dog has the kindness to kick the bucket once I’m home (assuming that his expiration date is in the next few weeks as the husband seems to believe.) Personally, I think that the dog will live forever because I hate paying for day care and, on a good day, Guinness is nothing if not pure, unadulterated, evil.
I’m afraid to tell him that I had a dream last night where Guinness got hit by a car and died. I also thought at one point this morning that he stopped breathing.
I’m not saying a damn word because it will make everything worse, but I knew when it was time to let go of both Arsey and Apache. I’m not saying it’s his time… I’m just saying I’m on high alert. My dreams aren’t always harbingers, but sometimes they are.
I mean, fuck, I’m nervous, too, but he’s an eleven year old German Shepherd. Our Aussies both made it to thirteen, so I pray he’ll make it to that age.
Even with that all taken into consideration, I’m pissed off, disappointed, and hurt beyond belief that the husband doesn’t want to be there for me.
So… long story short, I’m more miserable than ever. I’m scraping rock bottom and it’s beginning to show.
It also doesn’t help that this is my first year-end at the new job and I have a fuck ton of stuff to do by January 10th (according to the old Controller’s schedule.) I’ll be at Disney from the 4th to the 9th. I have a feeling I’m taking my laptop… since I’ll be alone any way, I don’t feel too bad. BUT… it also makes me want to revert to my original decision of just eating the $600 for the Dopey bib and staying home.
I don’t fucking know any more.
- - - - - - - - - -
In happier news, I’m working on making some significant changes in my life. Are they still New Year’s resolutions if I decide to do them before Christmas?
I haven’t really embraced the three words concept for a few years. I’ve just gotten lazy, but I think it’s time to bring them back. (Disclaimer: the three words idea is from my beloved friend CC’s book, “Amazing Things Will Happen”. You should really read it.)
SO.
For this year, my three words are:
PHYSICAL: A little too encompassing, maybe, but all the things that fit under this are related. I want to get past this roadblock with my running. I want to lose weight. I want to finally kick Dopey’s ass in 2024 since it’s a given that it probably won’t happen this year. I want to feel better / get into a shape that isn’t rotund. (Although, I still don’t get anything positive out of running. I want a runner’s high, damnit! I demand the ability to consistently have a runner’s high for Christmas. You hear that, fat man?)
MENTAL: Also a little too broad, but again, when I put together my list of things I wanted to manifest this year, I kept finding things that are related. I want to read more. I want to engage in hobbies I used to love. I want to learn Ukrainian. And Polish.(Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment. Polish is supposedly a very difficult language to learn.) I want to do the things that make me feel whole and since my brain is my superpower… I want to keep it active. Zoning out to the Sims every night isn’t doing it and I can feel a difference in the way the depression affects me. Sometimes, being as self-aware as I am is a motherfucker.
SOCIAL: I want to make friends. It’s as simple as that. I lost my high school and college friends when I moved to Ohio. I fought hard to get some of them back when we moved to New Hampshire, but some of that was short-lived. Then we moved to Florida and the tenuous grasp I had on any of those friendships continues to lessen as the distance gets in the way. I have two friends in Florida - both from Facebook groups - and neither friendship has really taken off IRL, even though we live relatively close to each other.
And, related to word number three - what the holy fuck have I done?!? I signed up for a learn to play D&D session through the FRC.
ME!
Playing Dungeons & Fucking Dragons.
(I’m laughing my ass off at how that came out, btw.)
I have never been interested in D&D. NEVER.
But.
It’s a way to connect with more people. It’s a way to maybe take some of those random online names and make them friends.
There’s a few more ideas that I’ve had, but signing up for an online learn to play D&D class is a big enough jump for this weekend.
On that note, I’m going to grab my copy of Beginner’s Ukrainian and fight my way through the first chapter.
I’m sure johnlock exists because Conan Doyle used ejaculate so much…
I haven’t run or walked since my disastrous finish at the Turkey Trot.
I deferred my entry for a 5K / Half Marathon combo this weekend.
I have the Dopey Challenge in less than a month and I haven’t successfully finished a half marathon since last January.
You can’t fake a marathon, so as long as I get a little further than when I was swept last year, I’ll be happy.
I keep thinking about why I chose to start running.
Why I chose to do Dopey two years in a row, knowing that I wasn’t going to train for it properly.
I don’t know if this is depression or weight gain or… something I can’t put my finger on.
I’m still shocked that I put in all that work with a running coach and didn’t even plateau.
No. I couldn’t do something that actually makes sense.
Instead, I went on a downward spiral so brutal I’m still trying to figure out what went wrong.
And I really doubt it’s a simple as exercise induced asthma, although that’s a great excuse.
- - - - - - - - - -
In other news, last Sunday, I had my first nosebleed. (Seriously. Never had one before.)
Monday, I had my second and third.
Tuesday, I had my fourth, my fifth, and my sixth.
Wednesday, I went to Urgent Care looking for a quick fix or a reason. Had my seventh.
Thursday, saw an ENT who found the equivalent of a pimple in my nose and zapped it. Was told more nosebleeds were part of the healing process. (What the actual FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?!)
Friday, had my eighth right as a zoom meeting started. Ninth was so bad I freaked out. Tenth was annoying.
I haven’t had a nosebleed since Friday night, but I’m terrified of it starting again.
That’s part of why I deferred my race entry. I didn’t want to be on a course somewhere, not near a med tent, if it started again. It wasn’t like I could carry a box of Kleenex and a garbage can with me.
- - - - - - - - - -
I’m getting a very generous raise effective January first, and a nice Christmas bonus.
Except, since my longevity at jobs is so bad (can I call it shortgevity?), that the owner said it was a bribe to make me stay.
I wanted to tell him that hurt and that he could keep his money…
It’s not like I take jobs planning to leave in a year or two.
Seriously. Why the fuck would I do this myself?
More importantly, with the exception of Global Spectrum, who actually plans on leaving a place every few years? (At Global, it was the norm to look for better positions, at better arenas. Every week, they sent out an internal job posting email, and by the end of the 30 day posting period, most of those jobs were gone. I love the hire from within culture as long as it’s followed through.)
I really like it at most of the jobs I take, but I always end up leaving when something triggers the bipolar, or the politics in the office become unbearable.
For example: I kind of liked my job at an airport, but the owner was spending so much and the books were so bad, that payroll was withheld twice. I can’t work and not get paid.
For example: I liked the health care company I worked at, but there were two bullies who made everyone miserable. I was given a promotion, but no raise, with the entire job description being to keep those two in line. In the end, I guess the joke’s on them. I had been working with the Controller on a super secret project to prepare the financials needed to sell the company. The company was sold and everyone lost their jobs. I would have been one of them if I hadn’t left before that.
For example: I liked the HVAC company I worked for, but I hated the Assistant Controller. She was on a mission to get the CFO fired so she could take his job. When he retired, we were supposed to be co-Controllers, but she started doing some shady shit with the financials to get him out the door. I left for Florida, and she got fired by the Board because they didn’t like her. I still can’t help but wonder if she would have taken me down with her. My gut says yes.
For example: I LOVED my job with the Cats… but that was the third time I had stayed until I couldn’t fight the bipolar any more. We all know how that ended. It was the first time I’d ever been fired for losing control of it. Because I refused to let myself quit. That only confirmed that my pattern was correct… so I stuck to it.
All in all, it makes me wonder if I should give up. We can’t really afford the loss of my salary if I were to go on Disability, and I need to work or I’ll go crazy. (Which is awesome considering it is holding a job that creates issues.)
But.
I guess it’s nice to have that option in my back pocket… even if it’s going to be a battle to qualify.
- - - - - - - - - -
And finally, I’ve given up on my Ukrainian lessons for a bit.
I only want to learn from native speakers. From Ukraine.
Of course, Ukraine is still having problems with their electrical grid and rolling blackouts are a thing. I’ve had two classes that needed to be rescheduled because of Putin.
But I know my teacher needs the money more than I do, so I’ve been doing the best I can to work with it.
But for as frustrating as it is for me, I can only imagine what it’s like for her.
The strain of living there is obvious in the lines of her face, the forced way she says ‘good’ when I ask her how she is doing.
Related: I’ve been watching Sims YouTubers who narrate in Ukrainian, and that’s been helping my listening comprehension quite a bit.
So. On that happy note, I’m going to end it right here. Have the best rest of your day and I’ll see you all tomorrow.
The year my mother died, I was taking a drama class. I was friends with all the theatre geeks and I liked the drama club teacher, so why the fuck not?
(Long time readers will recognise the fuck it factor at work…)
The homework assignment was to describe an emotional day you had - the day you got your driver’s license, for example. You know. Emotional shit.
My essay might have started by grabbing you by the short hairs and didn’t let go for two pages.
On Wednesday, March 18th, I walked into the condo to see my father crying at the kitchen table.
My father never cries.
When he finally looked at me, I knew.
“Ding dong, the witch is dead,” I asked.
“Ding dong,” he answered.
Have I said how absolutely fucking thrilled I am to be cleaning out 40+ years of memories I’d rather forget? (STILL!)
Do you know, I couldn’t remember what grade I got? I couldn’t just flip to the end and look. No! That would have been the sensible thing to do. The easy thing.
When the fuck have I ever done the easy thing?
I read the entire fucking thing. Cried through all of it. Wondered how it would end.
(Spoiler alert: it ends with my mother six feet under.)
And the grade? As if there were any doubt: A+ The relationship between mother and child can be difficult and you captured that.
Can. Be. Difficult.
Oh, Doc L., you have no idea.
BBQ sauce on my titties would have been a much better story.
- - - - - - - - - -
I ran last night.
Willingly got on the treadmill with my puffer in hand.
2 miles - intervals for all of it: 30 seconds (13mm) / 2 minutes (20mm).
Not speedy. Not balloon lady safe.
I did two beginner iFit workouts because I wanted to zone out and let the treadmill tell me what to do.
(The girl who drives a stick and refuses to use cruise control because she drives the car put the treadmill in charge. Yeah.)
I didn’t enjoy it.
But, I didn’t hate it, either.
I have a Turkey Trot coming up on the 24th. In fucking Miami.
I wasn’t really looking forward to the race, but… I’ve always done well at 10Ks. Especially there.
It’s not enough to salvage my Dopey training, but it’s a start.
My new shoes and socks don’t cause blisters, so maybe I can get father in the marathon than mile four.
I have no idea and I don’t really care.
I’ll do what I can and then I’m hanging up the sneakers.
