New Template!

I was bored with the old template. I don't really like any of the stock templates, but my knowledge of HTML is terribly limited and none of the free templates I could find were what I was looking for. I found out how to add a picture to your header here, and so I messed around on photoshop for a while (Photoshop is fast becoming my new favorite program. And I thought I was awesome with Paint!), until I came up with this one, and just found the template that went the best. So Yay!

--Dragon Read more!

The Space Between Yesterday and Tomorrow

I had a rather nice day today. The weather was nice. I didn't have any errands to run or anything to clean. I wandered aimlessly through the mall and looked at cell phones (alas, I hate being poor. I miss my cell!), bought some lunch for Erik and I, had a lovely pedicure a la my little brother, and a nice barbecue with my family and some of our neighbors. Days like these are wonderful in their complete mundane-ness.

Last night I scanned and photoshopped a picture of my mom from the year before I was born. (It had some water damage and was stuck to the glass of the picture frame it was in) She was a model for a short time. Isn't she beautiful?



--Dragon Read more!

Why Do They Call It A Baby Shower...

...When there are no babies to be *seen* and all the showering was done prior to arrival?
hehe.

I had my baby shower on Saturday. My best friend Sara organized it. It was done up in lime green and navy (two of my favorite colors) and everything matched right down to the refreshments. We played games and opened presents. In general it was pretty fun.

Of course one of my friends decided to spill the beans that the baby is a boy, despite the fact that I have been incredibly adamant that I do not want Erik's family knowing the gender beforehand. That rather pissed me off, but oh well. There's always the slight possibility that it's a girl. If it is, then I'll laugh at all of them for ignoring my wishes and getting me a bunch of manly-man boy stuff ;). We'll know soon enough. The other thing that really bothered me was another friend, Samantha, who knows me very well and whom I have told about my decision not to breastfeed, asked whether I was or not (in front of 10 other people including Sara's boyfriend and Erik's mother and aunt), and pressed me for my reasons why when I said that while I was fully aware of the benefits, I wasn't going to do it. I was really uncomfortable with her asking that in front of everyone, and continuing to press me even after I said several times that I would discuss it with her later. Finally I said, "Can we all just stop discussing my boobs now? Let's play a game, shall we?"

Overall, however, it was really nice and I'm very glad that Sara was the one doing the organizing, because she did a fantastic job.

--Dragon

BTW, what is it about pregnancy that suddenly makes people feel like they should be privy to the most intimate details of your life? Come on people, you all know how much of a private person I am. Have a little restraint. Read more!

Question?

Why is it that every single pregnancy site tells me that I am feeling huge, clumsy, ugly, blah blah blah? I mean, this pregnancy thing pretty much generally sucks, but I don't particularly feel like any of those things. In fact, one of the few upsides of this whole alien transportation receptacle deal is that I have had virtually no acne (never really had it to begin with, but there was always a pimple or two hanging out somewhere), and now I have an excuse for being rather rotund. The funny thing is, I have only gained about 4 pounds from my initial weight, thanks to the oh-so-lovely experience that is morning sickness. It's not as fun to walk, because it hurts, but other than that I don't feel any more prone to mishaps than normal. So I don't know. Maybe they're talking about all those skinny wenches who freak if they gain 5 lbs. In which case, yeah, they might feel like a (insert large ungainly object here). Considering all the other crap going on, though, I feel like I should get some recognition for what few benefits there are to this whole ordeal. Just something to wonder about.

--Dragon Read more!

White Space

I write. Poems, journals, essays (I am the essay queen), random half-stories that I never finish. I long to fill empty spaces with words. Not that this is very inspiring example, but I think I have a fair amount of creative talent. However, I can't seem to muster up enough courage to believe that I might have enough of it to pay for my supper. So I don't. My mom has always encouraged me to be a writer or journalist. I don't think I could, even with a degree and all that pomp and circumstance (after, all, it's just a piece of paper). I don't think I could rely on my creativity to regularly come up with something intersting, entertaining, and thought provoking on command. I don't write every day. I don't have enough to write about. Even with local and global events, there's only so much one can say. There are times when words pour from my head like a river in spring. Other times, it's more like a dusty wash in high summer. It's funny, when I write something I long for feedback. Something more substantial than just "I like it." I want to know WHY you like it. I want to know what I could do better. I want to have someone rip it to shreds and then tell me if it really is all that satisfactory after all. Ath the same time, I'm so afraid of what someone might say. If I let someone read my poems, I always ask, "What'd it make you think of?" Sometimes I get a vague response detailing what I was intending to convey, on far rarer occasions I get an interesting and completely unexpected viewpoint. I love those. I love it when I say something without it. I love to draw pictures in people's heads. I don't want you to tell me what I see, I want you to tell me what YOU see.

So I'm going to try an experiment. I'm pretty sure only one or two people read this, so I don't honestly expect a response, but if anyone cares to, tell me what this makes you think of:

--Slipstream--

Stealing these days from
Some other
Place
As the melody
Wavers high and
Slips
Into a thousand
Shards of memory
Another phrase to
Take me back--
And my thoughts slipstream
Into this half-hearted
Madness
Stealing these
Days
--Golden days
Each though takes me
Just a bit further
Away
And reaching back
Into memory
Heavenly, or at least
I tell myself
It was better
So much
Better
Take me back...

--dragon Read more!

It's Better To Face These Kinds Of Things With A Sense Of Poise And Rationality

Whenever I want to write about something that I think makes me look crazy I'm afraid to. I don't know why. Not very many people read this. And no one who knows me even knows this blog exists. I guess I'm afraid this will come around and bite me in the ass some how, someday.

The past few weeks at work have completely sucked. It's been really stressful, which I can generally handle, but on top of that the fact that I have to spend 6-8 hours a day standing in pretty much the same spot has been killing me. My legs and feet really hurt afterwards. Let me say that I am a complete wimp when it comes to pain. I cannot tolerate it at all. When I get off work I can barely walk and it's difficult to climb the stairs (I live on the second floor of my apartment complex). It's gotten to the point where I start freaking out and crying and getting really upset about an hour, hour and a half before I have to go to work most days. They're not like fullblown panic attacks (and believe me, I know those quite well), but I can feel the potential for these episodes to develop into panic attacks.

Sometimes I would purposely show up to work late in hopes of getting sent home or suspended. It's gotten so bad that I started imagining things I could do so I wouldn't have to go in to work. Bad, dangerous, drastic things. Like purposely tripping and falling down the stairs so I end up in the hospital.

I tried explain the pain and how much I hate it and dread going to work to my midwife. She said that unfortunately, it doesn't qualify as a threat to the pregnancy and I can only go early disability if it is a threat to my pregnancy. I was afraid of telling her the things that I've begun imagining. I didn't know what to do. Finally I told my mom what I was thinking and feeling, and she told me to quit, that we would find some other way to get me on early disability. I called my boss and told her I wanted to quit and explained why. She told me not to come in that night and asked me to come back the next day and talk to the main manager and see if we could work something out, considering my leave date is only 3 weeks away.

I still didn't know what to do. I was afraid to talk to the main manager, and I need the money. I couldn't just go on unpaid leave. I decided to try calling my midwife again to tell her the way I was feeling, thinking that anything would be better than going back to work. I had to leave a message and didn't want to explain it all to the receptionist, so I just asked for her to call me back regarding my maternity leave. She didn't even bother calling me back, and when the other receptionist called me for a completely unrelated reason, I asked about it. She told me the same thing that the midwife told me yesterday. I just started crying and told her everything, and she said she would get the midwife right away and explain the situation to her. So she did, and they called the main doctor, who approved early leave starting today. I guess they realized how urgent it was, because they called me back within 20 minutes and told me that it was approved and I wouldn't have to go back to work.

I am so incredibly relieved. I don't know how I would have made it for another 3 weeks. I don't think I could have.

I don't know why this is so hard. Why is pregnancy so incredibly awful? I've hated it from the moment I found out. It only seems to get worse. Is it going to be this bad after the baby is born? Do I just suck at life?

--dragon Read more!

An Aside

Oh, and contrary to what the little ticker on the bottom that shows how far along I am, I do not have cankles!!!!!

--dragon

Also, I can still see my feet and put on my shoes. So there, you little rainbow colored baby-thing, take that! Read more!