Crankpot is Back

Crankpot is Back

Oh my god, I’ve been a total grump the last two weeks. You’d think that after Bubbey returned from his 2.5-week hiatus in Maryland, I’d be in a wonderful mood. Just the opposite. People are irking my nerves… First, I was upset about cleaning up the house only to have Bubs junk it up again with dirty dishes, clothes on the floor, and library books, camera equipment, and gardening gear all over. Then, he was back to watching tv at night. Sorry, but I don’t want to sit around every night and watch tv. Tina was repeatedly getting caught up at work, which was throwing off our carpooling schedule. Then, her project was approaching a critical milestone so skate/swim nights got canceled. At work, her project was waffling because everyone had a damn opinion. In turn, I started getting frustrated with people’s stupid comments. And they were stupid, myopic comments. With my own work, I posted a pretty cool plot of our wards in Google Maps but was told to take it down by the GM and Board acting president. Mind you, they told me to take it down and they hadn’t even LOOKED at the page. So fucking asinine. So a week and a half later, after my manager met with the GM, what’s the resolution? The GM and other manager who took this to the GM in the first place, both admitted they acted overly cautious in telling me to take it down. So rather than take a look at the page now to realize just how ridiculous this situation has become, they are still insisting that I “demo” this to the Board. And presenting to the Board means getting this item put on the agenda, passing it through the system for “approval”, prepping a Board report, prepping a presentation (because who’s going to just show this one 5-second bit?)… I’m so pissed that their mistake just leads to more work for me and in the meantime, I still can’t post the page. Classic micromanaging. Classic bureaucracy. I’m fuming again just writing about this. Inhale, exhale. Ok, so my conclusion is that I’ll present again to the Board. I’ll showcase all the latest and greatest. But this is the only time I will hold off posting a change to the web. That’s my job. That’s my realm. I’m not about to relinquish control of that to people for whom this is not their specialty. Ugh.

Other annoyances: whenever things in my life feel like they are slipping out of my control, I start to obsess over things that I can control, like my body. So suddenly, I was feeling in dire need of a new hair color or style. I went out and bought salsa red hair color, and I thought, “how fun would it be to put in highlights at home?” I propositioned several friends and no one bit. When I told them, chunky red highlights, no one was convinced. Then I showed them a few pictures of Kelly Clarkson hair and suddenly, the look was cool and sexy. My coworker even thought she would try it. And so the competition was on. Who would have the better style the very next day. So I went home that night and researched and prepped. Printed out instructions on applying highlights. Got my special applicator brushes ready (toothbrush), cut out my pieces of foil, determined the size and placement of the chunks. After nearly two hours of labor, I emerged from the shower, dried my hair and …. NOTHING. The goddamn color didn’t take. Swear to god, I followed the directions. I left that permanent color in for 45 minutes. Fucking blackass Asian hair. Bye, bye Kelly Clarkson.

The next day, I was sure Jen would come in with flying colors. Well, her dye job bombed too. The dark base worked (she’s a natural dirty blond) but the highlights didn’t kick in either. Wtf? So the last time I tried to lighten my hair myself, I was a sophomore or junior in college. The purple didn’t take. But I thought for sure, in the last 10+ years, there would be significant innovations in haircolor technology. And certainly since college, I’ve gotten my hair highlighted in salons, and they definitely don’t use a two-step process (to bleach/strip first and then color). So I’m clueless. But at this point, I’m over it. I went and just got a trim last night. Whatev. Might as well focus on controlling something else. So now my mission is dancer’s body (but not achieved through dancing). I’m back to swimming, rollerblading (Shoes.com had a blowout sale, so I’m upgrading to Bubbey’s skates for only $90–with an internet coupon, of course!!), and bicycling. There’s a 15.5-mile skate every Sunday in the city that I want to build up to. I wouldn’t say “train for,” because I hate when people “train” for stuff, but I suppose it’s a near-term goal. Definitely by the end of the year.

In other news, it looks like I’m losing breadwinner status sooner rather than later. Really sucks. So now I’m relinquishing control at work and at home. Lovely. It’s not even that I’m tyrannical or anything: it’s just that I like to run certain shows. The web site? That’s my show. It’s not the GM’s show. It’s not the Board’s show, you know? At home, I want to focus on work so Bubs can focus on his domestic hobbies and exercise activities. Plus, a working John is a stressy John, which means it’s highly possible we’ll be back to “coming home normal time” (which never means “on time”) and sitting in front of the TV with his laptop from the time he gets home to bedtime. So much for the active life.

Am I having a bad attitude about all this? Yeah, sure. That’s why this post is entitled “Crankpot is Back.” I’m in a rut. Got into it two weeks ago. But I know I need to just let go of shit. The only thing I can control is me. So that’s that.

By the way, I joined Facebook recently and that’s probably what triggered this whole damn funk that I’m in: everyone with their beautiful pictures and exciting travels and intriguing lives and 550 friends. Is my competitive streak resurfacing? The one I had cultivated so religiously as a child and adolescent and then out of necessity, locked away in a dungeon in my mid-20s? I honestly don’t know. But right at this moment, I feel out of control. That there is too much going on around me, and I can’t “fix” any of it. My mind feels restless, anxious, burdened by fear. Fear that my job will change and I will stop loving it. Fear that Bubbey will go back to work and we’ll repeat the struggles of this last year. Fear that I will never attain professional “success,” however I truly, honestly define it. Fear that I will only abet Fonda’s dependency on others. Fear that medicine will not pull through. Fear that people I know will self-destruct. Fear that my grandfather will pass before I get up off my ass and plan my damn trip to Taiwan. Fear that, as a barren womb, I will once again not fit in. And this list just goes on… I’m fucking turning into my mother. Irrational fears, paralyzing neuroses.

No. I need to reorganize. I need to keep at the todo list. Step by step. And exercise will become my coping mechanism, because really, what besides myself can I control.

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