Oops, Late-Night Retrobruxist Friday 5/31/13

Ran across a blog post today titled Worst End of School Year Mom Ever. I can relate. I think most teachers feel like bad teachers at the end of the year.

Forge Mom's Signature

Main reason: standardized testing. It’s The Worrrrrrrrrrst. Bad for kids, sure, but as I tell the kids: “At least you get to DO something. I just have to SIT THERE.” In fact, read I Got Middle Schooled for a little taste of what teachers and proctors go through. It’s horrifying and hilarious.

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Three years ago, I shared my experiences with anti-depressants. The magic bullet I mentioned was amino acids—a monster truck load of them per day—which I took for several years, and they definitely helped. But they were super-duper-expensive and not-at-all covered by my super-duper-crappy health insurance. I weaned myself off them within the last six months, and I think I’m doing OK. I have my moments, but between CrossFit, food choices, and workin on mah shit, I’m maintaining a pretty healthy level of sanity.

Two years ago, I found the All-Time Worst Prospect on OKCupid. Seriously though.

A year ago, a shocking news story broke.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

 

So Much More Than Retrobruxist Friday 1/4/13 or, How Many Times Can I Link to My Own Shit in One Post?, Also New Year’s Resolutions!

First of all, thanks for your comments/voicemails/emails of support, but I’m fine. I actually feel fine—no joke. I had been feeling more optimistic about this relationship than previous ones, so yes, I was a little disappointed when the Dutchman bowed out. And startled. He seemed in it to win it, you know? But I really do feel all right.

Because truth be told, my Man*—the honest-to-jeebus One—might say, “Duck,” on this same issue, but it’s not enough to make him say, “Goose.” I can guaran-damn-tee it. I got too much going for me. I feel good.

That being said, I’m not getting back on OKCupid. I’ve been banging my head against that wall too long. So the Universe is going to have to deliver me my partner some other way.

*GAH. I am so heteronormative (heterosexual?). I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to be open to lezzing out.

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Three years ago, I set the bar low. This year, I’m setting the bar, eh, maybe torso-high?

First, let’s reflect on last year’s resolutions, shall we? I don’t floss (#2) or make my bed (#4) as much as I had hoped I would, but heck if I haven’t reduced my sugar intake (#5) by pounds. GOOD FOR ME. I have a sugary treat a few times a week, maybe some Greek yogurt with various mix-ins (I feel a vlog coming on!). I don’t think about sugar as much, and that’s truly a revelation.

I tried to dress better (#1), but I didn’t really have the tools, did I? I give myself a pass on that one.

I did SO VERY WELL not engaging in political or religious debates on Facebook (#3). Not perfectly, but on the few occasions that I slipped up, I was usually able to sit on my hands after one comment.

My self-talk (#6) was not good. I utterly failed at being nice to myself. I’M A FAILURE. I SUCK.

Hahahaha.

I was in a romantic relationship (#7)… Can I count it as a two-year relationship since it spanned 2012-2013? I think so.

So this year! Here goes:

1. Manage my depression/anxiety. My treatment requires a cocktail of interventions: amino acids, vitamins, exercise, time with friends, dog-walks, and some sort of regular group or individual therapy. I had let the last bit slide for financial reasons, and that was a bad move. But as of yesterday, I’m back in the game!

Woohoo!

Mental health!

Yeah!

Yeah.

Ugh.

2. Eat even less sugar. I’m interested in what a no-sugar (except special occasions) Amy would feel like. This resolution will commence once I’ve finished the can of whipped cream in my fridge. And maybe my Greek yogurt. Maybe this resolution sucks?

3a. Dress better. Now I have the tools. Fashion! Gonna happen!

3b. Wear makeup. But listen, I just can’t bring myself to paint my face for work. It seems ridiculous—I teach sixth grade, plus I have to be there at 7:15am. Who even invented 7:15am? So my compromise is this: lipstick during the day (I’ll even re-apply!), mascara or full makeup (as I see appropriate) when I go out on weekend nights.

Deal?

Deal.

High-five.

4. Be positive about my job. One complaint a day. That’s all I get. This’ll be hard. I had used my one complaint by 8:20 this morning.

5. Keep a cleaner house. I love a clean house, and I’m good about tidying up for company, but I have trouble putting stuff away and vacuuming if nobody’s going to see it. I tried having a chore chart for myself—that didn’t work. I also used the old put-a-sticky-note-on-the-computer trick.

clean one thing
No dice.

I’ll take advice on how to implement this one.

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Two years ago, though I didn’t know it at the time, I wrote the original Cooking for Dumbs post! I have come so very far! My Mexican Braised Beef has gotten et at two different parties, and my bacon-wrapped dates continue to inspire all but marriage proposals!

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Speaking of parties, a year ago, I built my fire pit! Best investment of three days and 180 bucks ever. I’ve had, what?, eight or nine fires since then, including this New Year’s Eve. And that was a hellified good time.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all, and happy 2013! (What are your New Year’s resolutions?)

Liar

Depression lies.

Depression tells you that that one’s too young — he can’t possibly want what you want out of a relationship, so don’t even ask — and that other one, he’s too straight-laced — he’d bolt at the first sign of the real you.

And do you really want him anyway?

Depression says you’re too tired to walk the dogs, it’s too cold to walk the dogs. Then you’re an asshole for not walking the dogs.

God, you’re so fucking lazy.

Depression tells you that that thing you posted on your friend’s Facebook wall? She didn’t realize you were joking and now she thinks you’re mean. And it won’t stop saying it.

You’re mean.

Everyone thinks you’re mean.

Depression whispers that it won’t work out. It’ll never work out.

Depression says there’s something wrong with you. Like, fundamentally wrong with you. That’s why shit is so messed up.

It’s your fault. You caused it.

And depression? Depression is an excellent liar.

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I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s just, for the last couple weeks, I’ve been lied to a lot.