Turkey Shmurkey.

I love stuffing. It's my favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner. I would even go so far as to say that I love it more than canned cranberries. (I like them from the can.) Right now, I'm sitting at my desk, eating a bowl full of stuffing. I thought it would make a nice lunch, and I was so right.

Survey time! What's your favorite Thanksgiving food item?

A New Level Of Awesome

Apparently farting in bed automatically grants you an honorary penis.

Who knew?

Memories That Haunt Me, Part 2. (OR – Put down the frying pans and butter knives and BREATHE.)

I guess I need to clarify a few things regarding a previous post (part 1, duh.) Apparently there are those of you who now think that my entire childhood was a dreadful experience. Let me say now that this is not the case. I did have some good times, and I also had bad times. I certainly was not trying to insinuate that all of my negative experiences were a result of one person’s actions, and I definitely wasn't trying to encompass my entire early life in that one post; I don’t think anyone could do that in 5 small paragraphs. I was simply sharing a memory of one specific afternoon.

I like that my website creates an emotional response. I want people to feel something when they read what I have to say. I would prefer a happy or even sad response, but I can run with anger too.

Please know that I will never apologize for the content of my website. I put a lot of thought into my entries, and they’re all a part of who I am. I enjoy having this medium to put myself out there for everyone to see, but sometimes honesty can take us down unexpected paths. Part 1 took most of a week to get just right before publishing – I hope that no one thinks I take this task lightly.

With that, enjoy my website. Laugh. Cry. Gnash your teeth. But please don’t pass judgment.

An Open Letter

Dear Peanut Gallery,

The drama you're creating is really adding to the traffic that my site receives! As much as I love the added readership, it’s getting a little out of hand. Let me outline a few points for you.

Most importantly, we’re not in high school anymore, m’kay?

Please don’t use my website as a vehicle for bringing general nastiness to light. Only I get to do that. I love comments, and I value every opinion, but being that I am the administrator of my website, I reserve the right to delete comments at will. I like having the comment option available for the fun and witty things, but I’m not interested in any cutting remarks, especially when they aren't about the specifics of the original post.

On that note, please limit your comments to the subject at hand! You're more than welcome to disagree with anything that I post on my website. You can even express your disagreement by way of commenting; Just refrain from being nasty, of course. It’s not the disagreement that bothers me. What bothers me is your tendency to bring other subjects and people into the conversation, which might not belong there.

I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate randomness. By all means, leave a comment that says “Applesauce” after this post. However, I have to politely ask you to knock off the passive-aggressive bullshit.

Since I’ve stopped allowing anonymous commenting, you obviously have your own blog. If you can’t follow these simple requests, maybe you should stick to posting in your own space.

Thank you!

Here We Go Again

Holiday baking orders are coming in at full speed! Usually I keep track of orders on a pad of legal paper, which has always made me just a little bit insane. So, to make things harder for myself, I decided that post-it notes were the way to go this time around. Monday I received about 5 Thanksgiving pie orders, a Christmas party order for 6 dozen cookies, and promises of 2 rather large Christmas basket orders. It's not even a full week before Thanksgiving yet, and I'm already trying to decide which days in December would be the most strategic for taking vacation from The Job That Pays The Bills, so that I have time for all of this baking! Yesterday, as I was trying to organize all of this on the piece of paper that resides IN MY HEAD, I thought the same thing that I think every year during the 3rd week of November. "What the hell have I gotten myself into???"

Post-it notes aren't cutting it anymore.

I made an Excel spreadsheet in an effort to obtain some sense of organization. I have everything broken down by order and grocery shopping requirements, listed in chronological order by date.

Okay. Hold on. Did you read that last part? I actually wrote out grocery lists for each order, and figured out the date that I need to go shopping for ingredients for each individual order. Then, I put all of this information on AN EXCEL SPREADSHEET.

Chillin'

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

My %*#!$&@ Computer Won't Work, But My Eyebrows Look Fantastic!

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Memories That Haunt Me, Part 1(?)

I'm coming to terms with some memories from my childhood. There are people who would say the best route to resolution is "forgive and forget", but for now I'm just working on admitting that I've been hurt. I may never come to forgive those who helped create my worst memories, but I'm okay with that.

I remember when I was 11, and I went to live with my aunt for what would come to be 4 years. My mother came to visit shortly after I had moved in, and I was so excited to see her. She arrived, and as an 11 year old who felt incredibly displaced, all I wanted to do was be near her. Even if I wasn't part of the conversation, just to be in the same room, sitting nearby, was a great comfort at the time.

Unfortunately this feeling was short-lived, on account of my cousin's need of a playmate. She must have been about 6 at the time, a great age difference to an 11 year old. Needless to say, the last thing I wanted to do was play "dress-up" or "Barbie" that afternoon. Said cousin was less than pleased with my lack of interest in playing that day, and in being true to form, went to her mother to have the situation straightened out. My aunt insisted that I play with my cousin. I had learned early-on in my transition, that any resistance to my aunt's wishes was reason for an "attitude adjustment" so I reluctantly went to the basement play-room with a very contented cousin.

I didn't see much of my mother that day.

I haven't thought of this day in quite some time, but the other morning I woke up and it was the first thing on my mind. I remembered it so clearly, and the familiar feelings of resignation flooded me. I laid in bed and cried that morning like I haven't in a very long time. It felt so good, but so very draining at the same time. At that moment, it was perfect.

I don't really know why I posted this. I guess it's been on my mind all week, and I needed to get it out. Maybe I just needed to put it out there to say, "I can be hurt and survive." I don't know what the reason, but it feels good.

Happy Halloween!

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

It's Stuff! On Cats!

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

Saturday Afternoon

Saturday Afternoon
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

The Last Hurrah
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

This was the final picture taken last night. I feel like ass today.

Lookin' Up, Kim Style

Sanity
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

I'm feeling a bit better. This changes from day-to-day, but for now, I'm feeling pretty good. Last night when I arrived home, I was greeted by a lovely bouquet of flowers, complete with a Halloween card. Yes, I said a Halloween card. It made me smile. The best part was that inside said Halloween card, in the midst of many nice things, it said "Happy Hump Day". I love that card.

So that was nice.

I decided to make myself a nice dinner. My usual staple of "easy meal" took a new fabulous turn when I made a quesadilla with cheddar, pepper jack, smoked cheddar, feta, fresh oregano and chopped tomatoes, all grilled up in a frying pan. I decided to cook it slow, so that all of the flavors would have time to meld, and I could relax a bit before devouring my meal.

Just as I turned the burner on, Heifer started to eat my flowers. Well, not the flowers, but the green stuff. He loves the greenery in a bouquet. So, I'm trying to wrestle with him, when I notice Cricket scooting across the tile floor on her butt. She does this sometimes, and usually I find it amusing, but about the time she hit the carpet, I realized, there are poop streaks all over my hallway. Leave Heifer to continue eating my flowers. Pick up Cricket in football grip, so as not to get poo on my clothes, and head to the bathroom. Sit down on the toilet and investigate. Crickets ass and surrounding fur are covered in crap. HOW DID SHE DO THIS???? I went to work...First with toilet paper, then upgraded to an old rag with warm water. I must say, she did very well, considering I was pulling at the hair around her asshole. Poor thing.

Cricket's clean, I'm clean, Heifer's demolished most of my greenery. Quesadilla is ready to flip. Perfect timing. I can do this! It's the Poop Ballet!

Flip quesadilla, decide I really want a glass of wine, knowing that I only have a few bottles, which I've been saving for a special occasion. Decide to celebrate my sanity with the most expensive bottle that I own.

So very very worth it.

EFF You, Tom Cruise, And I Hope That's Exactly What Katie Holmes Says When You Try To Keep Her From Medicating Her Post-Partum Depression.

Alright. We're off to a good start!

You might not hear from me for awhile. Well, unless something really funny happens, like someone falling on their face while trying to board the bus....That's just funny, People.

Those of you who know me even a little bit, know that I blush easily. It was always really fun when I was 15 and my 3 older sisters would take turns randomly saying "SEX!" to see just how red I would turn. Well, luckily I've gotten over that, because I have some pretty socially ungraceful friends. Whenever I blush, everyone gets a big kick out of it. "Hey everybody, look how red Kim just turned!" "Oh my god, even her arms are red! Look!" Nice. Well, the blushing thing isn't fun anymore. Now it's turned into full-blown anxiety, and I don't have any way of explaining why the hell I feel the way that I do on a daily basis.

On my last post I told about being asked to run a meeting. That was on Monday of this week. I had a little chat with my boss yesterday about that blog post. She's assured me that I would never be forced to do something that makes me uncomfortable. She said that I'm great at my job, and that I continually impress her with my ability to take on new projects and even create them on my own. I know all of this, but I still can't shake that feeling. Let me say that I love my job. I do. I enjoy what I do and I value those that I work with. I truly have it made in the job department. In spite of all this, I couldn't go to work this morning. I couldn't deal with this horrible fear that something might happen that would make me uncomfortable.

Since Monday I have spent every afternoon trying to keep myself sane between bouts of nausea. See, I know, logically, that the meeting conversation was just an offer made in case I might be interested in running a meeting but hadn't spoken up. No biggie. However, in my crazy head, it's become a looming threat. "What if someone of higher importance wants me to run a meeting one day? Will they think less of me if I say no? Will they understand that I just can't do that sort of thing? When are people going to start noticing that I'm not actually good at my job??? Am I just going to fall through the cracks and be one of those useless employees who manages to stick around through the years? Do they already realize that I'm not good at my job, and I just haven't made that revelation yet???"

Welcome to my world.

Everytime that someone stops by to visit the person sitting in the cube next to me, I listen to their hushed conversations and become engulfed in an unwarranted paranoia that they might be talking about me. Logically? Well, I know that I'm really not that important, and even if they are talking about me, who really cares. But the reality is that I'm convinced that they are, and regardless of what they're saying according to my created scenario, it makes me feel horrible.

Now, some of you might be thinking, "Gee, Kim, I know you like your job and all, but is it really worth all this trauma?" You're absolutely right, and if it were just about work, I would take some serious action. Enter Exibit "Mind Fuck":

1. I've stopped letting my cats outside because I'm absolutely convinced that one of them will get hit by a car. Now that they are inside all day, I sit at work and worry that something will happen. "What if my little Hiefer jumps up on the counter, and when he jumps back down, a knife falls on him???" This isn't just a passing thought. I dwell on this all day.

2. I started having night terrors about 2 months ago. I wake up absolutely terrified for no reason. I feel as though someone has been holding me down, and I am so scared, that I can't even scream. This has led to a fear of someone entering my apartment. When I get home from work in the evening, I engage all 3 locks on my door. Sometimes I sleep on my couch so that I will wake up more quickly if someone tries to get in at night.

I had an appointment for an annual girly exam today. I love those. I especially like it when they rub my cervix with that bristle brush. Good times. So, the nurse came in to take my blood pressure. Everything's fine. We chatted a bit about why I was there. No big deal. The first mistake was her leaving me there for nearly 30 minutes waiting for my doctor. In being true to form, my mind started to wander to horrible things. "What if she finds something wrong???" I finally got control of that, and thought, "Y'know, maybe I should talk to her about all of these things that have been bothering me so much. I might have an anxiety disorder. Maybe some medication would help keep me balanced." Seemed like a good idea to me. But, the story doesn't end there, of course...what fun would that be?? "What if she wants me to start seeing a counselor? What if I need something more immediate than that??? What if she prescribes drugs, and they make me feel worse? What if I find something that works, but I have to take 5 other drugs just to deal with side-effects???"

Isn't this game fun?

My doctor, who I absolutely trust and adore, walked in the room, and gave her usual cheery hello, to which I respond with a fit of crying. I finally calmed myself down, and started to tell her what had been plaguing me for the past 2 months. Apparently this crying business actually works, as my doctor has diagnosed me with "Generalized Anxiety Disorder". Do you know what this means? It means that I'm scared shitless of everything that could happen in the confines of my head.

I'm taking a very low dose of anti-anxiety medication. With the small amount that I'm taking, we should be able to catch any reverse or side-effects before they get out of hand. Yes, I'm a little scared, but I have to believe it will be worth it, because I'm so tired of feeling this way. I don't know if any of you have dealt with depression or anxiety, but it's absolutely exhausting.

I hate that I have fears just like everyone else, but rather than letting them pass I dwell on them all day. I hate that I love my job but I'm afraid to go there. I hate that I love my apartment, and until 2 months ago I wanted to spend every moment there, but now I'm so fearful and uncomfortable when I'm there.

I have to believe that this will help.

A Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On

During a meeting I had with my supervisor awhile back, I expressed an interest in becoming more comfortable with public speaking. Since that time, I have had a small moment of standing in front of a limited group. Yes, I was bright red and nervous the entire time, but I did it. Looking back, it wasn't that big of a deal, considering the subject matter and the members of the small group.

Recently I was asked if I would be interested in running a conference call meeting. I just started laughing and told her absolutely not, under any circumstances, will I ever be interested in running a meeting. Ever. Said person reminded me that I wanted public speaking opportunities, to which I responded, "Yeah, well I just changed my mind on that."

See, standing in front of a small group of people that I know very well is pretty intimidating for me. Running a meeting? Paralyzing. I don't mean to say that it makes me nervous, I mean to express that the mere thought of doing such a thing scares the living hell out of me.

Example A:

Today I was sitting at my desk, working as usual when my mind started to wander. I had created a scenario where the Big Boss Man asked me to present something during a meeting. Nothing big, just a contribution that I would be able to make to a Large. Group. Of. Important. People. By the time I came back from this little day dream, I was just about beside myself, tearing up, bright red, and even shaking a little.

Don't ask me for another example. I'm all worked up just thinking about Example A!

Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

These shoes are pure torture, but so very very hot.

Left For Dead...

So I look in your direction,
But you pay me no attention,
And you know how much I need you,
But you never even see me.

~Coldplay

Carlos
Originally uploaded by pastry_child.

I've decided that naming my own photos is boring. So, from now on, when I post a picture on my blog, let's everyone leave a comment with a name suggestion. Sounds fun, right?

Ready? Okay!

Nothing Good To Say

I remember a day not so long ago when commuting by bus meant a 20 minute ride to work. This morning it took 45 minutes. 45 minutes!!! My commute has actually been a bit worse every single day for the last month. I left my house half an hour early, and still showed up to work 15 minutes late. This is normal traffic, people! There aren't any accidents or stalled vehicles. This is simply me trying to get over a damn bridge along with everyone who can't figure out that new-fangled merging process, or the meaning behind the term "bus only lane".

I don't have a car, which is probably a good thing considering how annoyed I get on the road when I'm not even driving. So, my options are limited to slowly moving toward being an hour late for work every morning, or catching a bus an hour early just to get to work on time. This is merely guess-work. For all I know, I'll still be late even if I catch an earlier bus.

I'll keep you posted.

Worse Than Britney

President Bush says he takes responsibility for the federal government's failures in responding to Hurricane Katrina. - CNN

I'm not pregnant! Oh, wait, yes I am!