advice for earlier you (and me!)

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just click here.

i've been thinking recently about advice i would give to my earlier self.  my 10 year old self, my 15 year old self, my 18 and 22 year old self.  i also think about the advice that, if i had a megaphone to my generation, i'd provide.

i remember that i used to be devastated because i had yet to get my period.  i was 15, and i was convinced that either (a) my ovaries were broken or (b) something was wrong with me and i would never, ever turn into a full-fledged woman.

it happened.  but i wish i had known, earlier on, to treasure the time that comes before the monthly bleed-out.  (yum).

i remember, around the same time, when i had not yet kissed a boy.  i was terrified that i wouldn't know what to do, so i read article after article, quizzed my friends, trying to learn in vain from others. 

it happened.  and it was gross.  i remember my first thought: "i can't believe this is a national passtime." (i hadn't discovered sex, yet.)

i would tell myself, "don't worry, it gets better.  but congrats anyway."

i remember my mother's face when, in college, i told her that i hadn't changed my sheets all semester.  i remember the stench of unwashed dishes stacked on top of our dorm room microwave. 

i'd hand that self some lysol and a roll of papertowels and tell her to get to work!

i'd tell my post-college self to avoid dating within your industry (it's just bad news).  that people gossip in the working world just like they do in high school.

and i would tell my 25 year old self not to tell her boyfriend so early on that she wants to marry him...woops!

what do you remember, and what advice would you have for your earlier self?  share with me - take the survey!

love, aQ

charisma

let's be straight: i think i'm pms-ing at the moment.  i'm craving chocolate, my face is letting me know just how imperfect it can look, and my patience tank isn't showing up as "full" when i wake up in the morning. 

give it a few days, i'll be back to normal.

in the meantime, i've used my pms-motivated brain to ponder moments that have really pissed me off.  criticisms of myself that i either accept or reject, and then i stew over them. 

i swear - i try to leave shit in the past.  but pms is like a shit-shovel.  digs it all right back up and flings it in my face (and others) sometimes.

shit on the brain at this moment: an accusation that, while i'm great to talk to in person, i'm not as wonderful in group situations.  i am an attention-seeker, desperate to be the center of attention, unable to listen and allow for others to speak their minds, and somewhat unnerving.

...at least, that's what was said about me by someone who shall remain nameless.

it was said months and months ago.  but it still irks me.  it still makes me feel sensitive and insecure at times when i feel that, in groups of friends, i've dominated conversation and taken the spotlight from others.  i do not want to be that girl.  that person. 

and so i try to ensure that (a) i am cogniscient of my tendency to selfishly steal the spotlight/talk time and (b) i apologize if i think back and realize i may have done so.

but that's just a story to get us started.  i actually have a quiz for you to take that is only mildly related. 

bear with me, this will be fun.

i have some kind friends to assure me that it's just my charisma that leads folks to want to be near me (perhaps they are too kind?), and i find this idea of charisma intriguing.

i certainly know many a charismatic person.  i know what it feels like to be drawn to them.  that's what drew me to many of my close friends.  ...i wonder if i have some fraction of what my sweet friends claim i may.

do you?  are you charismatic?  are you a charmer?

or, like me, are you a potentially unnerving attention whore?  you may think you know...but oprah may know better.

while toying around on oprah.com over my lunch break, i came across this quiz:

"how charismatic are you?"  <--take it.  let's compare notes.

my results, according to my biased answers, give me the following:

 hooray.  i am mildly charismatic.  a mediocre charmer. 

i am so o.k. with that.

it doesn't answer my question:  am i an attention whore?

but at least i know that a teensy bit of charm may be involved.

archetype test

so, i was recently reading salary.com, learning about career development and comparing myself to what others have to say with regard to goals, motivation, etc.

i compare myself to others.  all of the time.  for better or worse, i have a hard-wired inclination to see where i "fit" into the rest of humanity.  personally.  professionally.  permanently.

and so i of course jumped at the opportunity to take an archetype test.  i effin' pounced, really. 

what type of a professional person am i?  what are my strengths, as deduced by salary.com?  what are my weaknesses?  what type of a role is my "best fit" and am i currently in it?

you know you've wondered.  if you haven't...i just can't relate to you there.

take the test here, and share your results!

(you may have to create a profile...just do it.)

i took it, and my results look a little (or exactly) like this:

go figure.  i'm a lover. 

and heeeyyyy - apparently, i'm in one of the roles best suited to me!  sales.  yeah, baby.

are you?

doctor trickery

as i type this, my finger tips are sweating.  i'm serious.  my face is flushed, my skin is clammy, and my brain is swirling trying to determine an escape route from certain doom.

what doom, you may ask? 

let me tell you a story.

it's a story about a healthy girl named amy.  yeah, that'd be me. 

for the past 4 years, i have eaten healthy, worked out regularly, slept fairly well, and exercised an acceptable amount of care when enjoying sexy time.  i'm young, and in my personal opinion, pretty damn healthy. 

which is the way in which i have justified, for these past 4 years, that i have had no need to bother doctors with performing my annual physical.  waste of time and expense, right?  that is certainly my opinion.

recently, however, someone pulled a trump card.

a family friend, my primary care physician, has been letting me slide all this time.  refilling my two regular prescriptions without much of a complaint, i have had no one forcing my hand (and the rest of me) into the doctor's office to get checked out. 

if the pharmacist indicated that i may need to make a visit to my doc to get some refills, i simply say, "call my doctor, and tell her who it's for."  next time i come in, i flash a healthy girl smile, the pharmacist sees that i have the upper hand, and i'm on my way - Rx in hand.

it seems i may have been taking this for granted.

my doc finally pulled her trump card.  she has decided it is time for me to see her, in the form of an annual physical, and she is holding hostage my regular prescriptions. 

damn!  damn.

i tried the healthy girl smile again.  to no avail.  i tried negotiating.  i fought and lost.

it seems i must, in fact, go to visit my doc.  and so i scheduled this "annual physical" that seems to be required.

the receptionist answered the phone, and i told him what was up.  he acted as if it was all no big deal.

"alright then, we've got you in here for X day at X time, it should take about 30 minutes.  you'll have to fast for 8 hours so that we can perform the blood work...."

my world stopped at those last two words, and i stopped him.

blood work!?!? 

i didn't know i was signing up for that shit.

as i silently weighed the importance of my monthly prescriptions (one of which is the all-important birth control) against my intense fear of needles, the man on the other end of the line continued....

"yes, ma'am...all annual physicals include blood work."

and so, negotiator amy came back into play.

"well, is there an opt out box you can check beside that part?  i'm o.k. with a physical, but i'd rather not have any needles involved in my visit."

"um, no ma'am.  blood work is a mandatory part of any annual physical.  we have to check your cholesterol levels, serum levels, etc."

"trust me, i'm healthy.  it won't be a problem, and i personally don't need to know what those levels are.  i'm not even interested.  can you write a note on my chart, please, to indicate that blood work will not be necessary?"

"um...i don't think that's an option for you, ma'am."

"can we schedule just a check-up, then?  code this meeting some other way, a minimum intensity level so that i can just get my prescriptions refilled?"

"ma'am...you're going to have to get blood work done either way."

bam.  and that was it.  my cards had been played, i was shit out of luck.

i scheduled the appointment, but i couldn't accept total defeat.


so i started doing research. 

i googled standard requirements for annual physicals.  fuck the bloodwork - it was all there.

i called around.  did anyone know of a doctor who would perform a physical without involving needles?

no dice.

it seems, at this point, that next week i am doomed to be stuck and sucked.  in a bad way.

unless....anybody out there know of someone with an option to "opt out"...? ;)

f. me.

eff the baddies.

(warning: this is a bit of a rant.  bear with me.)

i'm ponding a question today...a question relating to a situation that makes me more and more agitated, anxious, and angry as i continue to allow my mind to contemplate it. 

...it takes a lot to make me really mad.  i am downright angry as i type this post...

what is one to do as they see someone they love being wronged?  that is the question.

the answer?

your first thought probably is, as mine would be: stop it.  put an end to it.

protect the fuck out of that loved one.

and that's my first reaction.

but what about when the situation is more complex than simply the wronging of a loved one. 

what if, in this situation, the loved one realizes that they are being wronged, and isn't entirely ready for it to end.  the loved one is almost an accomplice, an enabler to their own wronging?  willing to sacrifice parts of him or herself in order to maintain in the company of the wrong-doer?  intellectually aware of the situation, but emotionally unprepared to remove themselves from the bad guy/girl and accept help or help themselves?

let's call this wrong-doer, bad/guy girl, the baddie.  easier, gender-neutral and can be more easily applied to various situations.

let's also include a quick note on behalf of the baddie: a baddie is not necessarily a bad person.  a baddie is simply someone who, in this case, knowingly wrongs someone else.  often repeatedly.  to their own benefit, resulting in the harming of someone else.  perhaps good at the core, this individual is behaving selfishly in order to get exactly what they want out of a situation without giving anything they don't care to give. 

this situation - the one making me clench my teeth and beat on my keyboard:

this particular baddie is a selfish baddie.  someone who wants only certain aspects of my loved one, but not the whole package.  who is willing to give of themselves only as much as is required to obtain what they want.  who probably views themselves as "honest" in having provided the disclaimer that they're not looking for anything serious, while acting in a way which they understand will continue to draw in their object of prey.

he's using her.  and they both know it.

the baddie is knowingly wronging my loved one.  this baddie is selfishly promoting his own desires, and disregarding the unspoken but understood feelings of my loved one.  allowing my loved one to be the only one to make sacrifices in what she needs and wants, in order to still have the scraps of whatever the baddie is willing to offer.

that is not the way to treat a person.  any person. 

that behavior is not a sign of respect.

that behavior is selfish.  it is manipulative.  and it is wrong.

but what is a witness to do?

i know that this situations occurs all of the time. probably every day. i've seen it. i've heard about it. i've watched it on television. i've listened to it in songs. none of them provide an answer to my question.

i have been that person.  that girl who allowed herself and her needs to be minimized in order to glean even a fraction of what i really wanted from a relationship.  my baddie knew what he was doing - he even later admitted to it. 

i also had witnesses to my situation, friends who were gently honest with me and warned me of what was going on.  warned me that, no matter how long i waited or hoped, my baddie was never going to give me what i wanted and needed. 

they prompted me to make a break.  they certainly tried.

it didn't help.

i knew what they were saying was true.  i knew that, eventually, i would end up immensely disappointed, probably broken.  but i just wasn't ready.  i didn't have the emotional fortitude at that point in time to make the break, to give up on the huge amount of joy that i found in even the tiny scraps he threw my way.

eventually, it had to happen.  and it did.  the break and the fallout.  the acceptance, the disappointment, and the frustration.

and so it has to happen for my loved one.  having been there, it makes it even harder to watch.

and it does break you.  for a while, at least.

The longer the connection, the harder the fallout.  that's all there is to it.

if only i could give the baddies a taste of their own medicine...wishful thinking.

the breaking point

when it happens, i will be there for my loved one.  whenever.  wherever.  however i need to be of support. 

but how in the HELL do i help to soften the blow?  is it my place, is it even possible, for an outsider witnessing the wrongdoing to save the victimized loved one from further and deeper hurt?

my current answer:  i have no idea.

i don't want to overstep my boundaries.  i also don't want to put effort into something that would prove fruitless.

i had to make up my own mind when i was the one being wronged.  i had to let my heart catch up to my head.  i had to stockpile up enough courage to make the break.  there was nothing anyone else could say or do to change the progress of events.

it's just so damn hard to watch it happen. 

fuck the baddie.  figuratively.  literally would just be too kind.

to you readers:  i'm interested in your thoughts.  i'm sure that, to some extent, we have all been that person who was wronged by a baddie.  baddies are everywhere.  and sometimes they travel in packs.

fuck 'em.

patience tank.

you've heard of the "love tank", no doubt.  you know - when it's full, you're feeling fulfilled in your relationship(s), and when it's running on empty, you're feeling low. 

similar in concept, i imagine my own personal level of patience to be found in my "patience tank" - i start fresh in the morning with a full tank.  as the day progresses, it naturally declines as i use up my store. 

little gems throughout the day can definitely boost that level in my tank back up a notch.  those things can include sex, a good talk with a friend, a beer (or whatever your poison may be - just not tequila!), a nap, exercise...i could go on, but i won't for your sake.  you get the picture.  extra injections of patience throughout the day are certainly possible, the way i imagine it.

then, there are the patience-sucks that drain your tank more quickly than would naturally occur.  like a headache.  or pms.  assholes.  ____<-- you can fill in the blank (feel free to comment below). 

i spent my morning - two hours of it, to be exact - in a patience-sucking environment.  it was a powerful suck-age in meeting form with a kind but overly verbose man.  i'll provide further insight in a moment, but to give you a visual...

my patience tank currently looks about like this:

i'm running very low...especially for the time of day.  it's my lunch break, and i'm right around where i ought to be around bed time.  i feel as if my patience quota has been unfairly depleted, stolen from me and the rest of the world forced to encounter me for the remaining hours of the day...unless, of course, i get refueled at some point.  i see a glass of pinot noir in my future (and hopefully some sex).

anyway.  back to the patience depletor.

he's a good guy, this man.  let's call him mr. morningkill (or "mr. m" for short).  he has good intentions.  he's a little dated for the modern working world, but fairly intelligent. 

did i mention he's verbose?

he's the kind of person who can describe one word with 100.  who makes his point by making 10 points that are only vaguely relevant.  he speaks slowly, intentionally, and endlessly.  he repeats himself, just to be sure you got it.  he doesn't believe you when you say you had it before he "taught it to you"...and so he repeats the process. 

it reminds me of the moment in sandlot, when one of the boys describes things getting lost to "the beast" ...a moment in which he says, "f-o-r-e-v-e-r!!!"  yeah.  that's how long this meeting seemed to take.

halfway though, i pulled the "ladies room" card, tried to keep my face in a similar expression as to that it had held during our meeting, and went to look in the mirror.  did it reveal annoyance?  for sure.  was it offensive?  hopefully not...but mr. m can be sensitive.  so i practiced my best, fake, looking-forward-to-whatever-you-have-to-say smiles, and headed back into the danger zone.

don't worry.  i made it out alive.  but with a perilously low patience tank.

perhaps my patience tank is smaller than that of other people.  i have debated that before.  or perhaps it's just my personal triggers for patience depletion, my susceptibility to the patience-suck, which are more commonly found in daily life than those patience-sucks belonging to other folks.  for me, it includes things such as the following:

-blatant stupidity
-people who don't actually listen
-dirty spaces
-sleep deprivation & hunger
-people who think they are more attractive/intelligent/funny than they actually are
-poor vocabulary
-whining
-close-mindedness
-wasting time

i'm a girl who likes to get shit done.  most things (i hate checking my mail...one of a very few exceptions).  i like to be efficient.  i like to get to the point.  i like productivity, and i like concise meetings. 

what sucks your patience?  do you have your own version of my mr. morningkill? 

...am i just an impatient asshole?

share your thoughts.

showin' my ass

while packing my gym bag last night i was intentional.  i knew i had two important meetings today, and wanted to look sharp.  professional, yet feminine.  put together, with a little flare.  i chose a cream-colored dress, crochet & lace overtop a solid slip.  nude shoes.  a chunky red necklace to finish it off and give it a little "pop" of color. 

the dress was a little something like this, in a cream color:


...little did i know that wasn't the only "pop" of color i'd have goin' on today.

my first meeting was this morning, at a major hospital in the area.  my colleague and i showed up, met our potential client in the lobby, and were guided through the building to his office.  we passed patients.  we passed candy stripers.  we passed doctors, nurses, and other staff.  we conversed along the way, and things were clearly starting off on the right foot.  i had a good feeling about this meeting, and i was looking forward to sitting down in this potential clients office with my colleague for a solid technical chat. 

he brought us to his department office, and the door quickly opened for us.  the gentlemen, being gentlemen, let me walk in first, and i quickly heard from my right "miss....miss...MISS!"  i turned and found a receptionist, waving me over, actually requesting that i walk around her desk and come over where i can stand just beside her. 

my first thought - maybe she wants me to sign in, but she wants to watch me write?  maybe she has to issue me some sort of security badge to show that i'm allowed to be in the facility?  i honestly had no clue. 

she indicated that i lean down, and so i did.  in my ear, she whispered, "uh, ma'am.  i got a call from the ladies at the front.  something about your dress.  your slip." 

i thought to myself...well, my dress is on.  hemline was almost at my knees, it wasn't on backward....

she saw my confused look and indicated i should come back down for another whisper: "your slip seems to be caught.  everyone can see your undergarments.  we thought you should know."

first pop of color: my face going bright red.

(please keep in mind - my male colleague and male potential client are literally 4 feet away from me making small talk while i'm around the receptionists desk.  gotta.keep.my.cool.)

i look down, and realize that my slip has indeed become caught right around my hips, and my bright blue underwear is absolutely visible through the top layer of my dress.  front and back.  fuck ME.

...and so, what's a girl to do?  i duck to the side, stick my hands up my skirt, and yank the sucker down, that's what.  and then i march my ass - in a ladylike fashion - right into the conference room in order to get this business meeting started.

the meeting went well.  great, in fact.  i won't lie - the entire time i was wondering whether or not the two gentlemen in the room were aware of my booty-baring debacle.  i was also thanking my lucky stars that i've been doing squats lately.

at the conclusion of our meeting, i snuck ahead of the guys to the receptionist, and thanked her for letting me know.  just to be safe - i gave her a gander of my backside to ensure no cheek-age was visible.  i got a thumbs up.

i certainly got the "pop" of color i was looking for today.  in the company color, no less.  next time, though, i think i'm going to invest in some strategically placed safety pins.  to save my ass.