I’ve done something today I’ve talked/thought/mused about doing that I didn’t think I’d actually do. I got in my car, followed the Mapquest directions, made a U-turn because I’m a spazz, parked, and went in to Planet Fitness. I approached the counter, spoke with a very nice (and cute) guy who broke down membership options for me, then signed my life away (and MB’s).

I joined a gym. Geez Louise…

As part of the whole “Let’s join a gym” extravaganza, I was awarded a free t-shirt that looks like it has a car window decal and a nifty pen (that writes in purple ink!) for both MB and I. As an added bonus, they just started today — cutie pie swears — giving out these cammo National Guard gym bags that also have free t-shirts and water bottles and such inside. So not only did I sign our lives away, I got free crap as well. Merry Christmas indeed!

Speaking of Christmas, I heard a very noteworthy (good term?) rendition of O Holy Night over at Poolie’s blog. As I commented there, I immediately thought of this clip, which never ceases to make me giggle (and consequently tarnish the song just a little):

And now that I have that song on loop in my head, I get to make meatballs for dinner! Huzzah!

I’ve done this every year (I think) for most of my blogging life, and this year is no exception. I now present to you — as I have nothing of major consequence to say other than the same whining on repeat — my Twelve Days of Christmas. Note that it’s all in jest, that (most of) this is completely fabricated. Enjoy!

On the first day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
that his bills keep on mounting!

On the second day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
About two shitty tires
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the third day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the fourth day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the fifth day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
He’d like to win five million dollars!
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the sixth day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
He’s tried six dozen times
To win five million dollars!
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the seventh day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
He’s had seven upset stomachs,
He’s tried six dozen times
To win five million dollars!
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the eighth day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
He’s had eight migraine headaches
And seven upset stomachs,
He’s tried six dozen times
To win five million dollars!
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the ninth day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
About having nine gifts between me and his mother,
He’s had eight migraine headaches
And seven upset stomachs,
He’s tried six dozen times
To win five million dollars!
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the tenth day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
That ten grand can’t pull off this wedding,
About nine gifts between me and his mother,
He’s had eight migraine headaches
And seven upset stomachs,
He’s tried six dozen times
To win five million dollars!
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the eleventh day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
About his eleven gray hairs total,
That ten grand can’t pull off this wedding,
About nine gifts between me and his mother,
He’s had eight migraine headaches
And seven upset stomachs,
He’s tried six dozen times
To win five million dollars!
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting!

On the twelfth day of Christmas
My fiancé bitched to me
He has twelve bajillion more mortgage payments,
Eleven gray hairs total,
That ten grand can’t pull off this wedding,
About nine gifts between me and his mother,
He’s had eight migraine headaches
And seven upset stomachs,
He’s tried six dozen times
To win five million dollars!
He wants four months paid vacation,
That three animals in here is too many,
About his two shitty tires,
And his bills keep on mounting! 

:::

Meanwhile… my supervisor in the LC can finangle about 10 hours for me next semester, which is 2.5 more than I have this semester. It means my Tuesdays and Thursdays will be hella-busy, but it’ll be totally worth it. Basically, I’ll be on campus 9-5:25, but it’ll be only two days a week. Provided I can organize myself so that I’m not grading my life away like I have been in past semesters (or effectively ignoring it all like I have been this semester… heh…), I’ll have an uh-may-zing schedule. I may even take on an extra day at the Ridiculously Expensive Gift Shop. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Maybe.

Who am I kidding? I have a wedding to plan for and we’re still broke-diddly-oke. It’ll get paid for… somehow…

Thoughts whilst loading EQII tonight after about a month-long absence:

New loading bar… I’m already afraid…

New art… uh oh…

Whew! Something familar…

The toons look okay… let’s load one… umm… Lynnie… (my main toon)

Entering guild hall…

And I’m face to face with a cute blue dragon plushie. Woot!

Yesterday was the annual holiday party of MB’s godparents. We didn’t go last year 1) because the weather was shitty, and 2) because we weren’t exactly invited. MB decided he’d rather go to Artie’s this year, which his mom and I aren’t exactly turning cartwheels over. I had a good time at any rate. The godparents alway have a Chinese auction, and this year I came away with a huuuuuuuuuge bottle of Arbor Mist tropical fruit zin for me and a bottle of Irish Mist for MB. I got home a little after 7 and have had three cups of the zin. I had to force myself to stop, it’s yummy!

Seven more classes and then I am D-O-N-E, stick a fork in me, done! Three more for the M/W section (3), plus two more for the Wednesday section (5), plus two for the Friday section (7). Amen! Then I can be as lazy as I want to — ha!

Okay, that’s all I have. We’re still on holiday hours at the Ridiculously Expensive Gift Shop and, even though I technically wasn’t on the schedule today, I worked 10-7. Bah! I’m ready to fall over, though I think the tasty zin is helping just a little. Night!

Overnight, we got slammed with snow. Okay, so maybe I’m being a little overdramatic (surprised?), but we averaged about 7 inches. And, as per usual, just about every school around was either closed on on delay today… except mine. Since I didn’t have the oomph to unbury my car and limp toward campus, I called in. Ha! First time in three years I’ve done that. I couldn’t justify driving in shitty weather, especially after watching traffic cameras on the news all morning show cars in the ditch. MB called in too, so we had a lazy day. Hell, I never even got out of my jammies.

Of course, I did diddly squat. Well, okay, so I worked a little on next semester’s stuff, and in a little bit I’ll work on this semester’s stuff. I also made a pretty decent marinated chicken stir fry and made brownies from scratch. Still didn’t do dishes, and now we have our own Leaning Tower. I attempted to wrap some of MB’s presents while he was out for a bit, and only got two small ones done — they went instantly to his stocking. The rest are sitting in Wally World bags here in the office in plain temptation. I need to do that tomorrow.

I had a minor freak out earlier. I left the blog open in a window and MB started to read. I don’t write anything here that I’m particularly ashamed for him to know, but I bugged out anyway. It goes back to my paranoia of when I lived with my parents and Mom finding out about it. MB doesn’t care, he was just curious. I feel horrible that I bugged out like that for no reason. Gah!

BroCuz3 texted me tonight to tell me SisterCuz1 is going to make me an aunt… again. For those playing along at home, that makes 8 for me. She’s due in June, which — and this is totally selfish of me, I know — is cutting it awfully close to the wedding, eh? I’ve been mulling it over in my head for the last 2 hours or so and I keep waiting to get excited. I guess it’ll be different when I actually see SisterCuz1 and talk to her.

Short one tonight, I have stuff to do!

I just finished grading back assignments for one section. The other two can wait. It’s 1:30, technically Wednesday. I have insomnia, though I suspect it’s because I made multiple pots of coffee today (the most recent aroun 10:30). I just took my little blue sleepy pills, so we’ll see how this goes. I washed them down with coffee, so did they cancel each other out?

I’m trying to ignore the fact that I’ve felt buzzy off and on lately. I’ll get sick in January. I just need to make it 16 more days. Then I can stay on the couch (or in bed) with blankies and meds and be sick. Until then, I must soldier on. Left, left, left, right, left.

Today (yesterday, whatever) I picked up my dress!! It’s currently hanging in a solid white garment bag in the closet. I trust that MB will keep his nose out of it, but I will ask Mama Bear if I can store it at her house if necessary. I’d store it at Mom C’s, but I’m afraid of smelling like a pack of Winston Lights. When I went in to pick up the dress, the associate asked me if I wanted to try it on. I hadn’t planned on it, but did anyway. Either I’ve gained just enough weight in just the right places, or it only added enough length to not look short; I’m not sure which. I stood on my toes to approximate how high my shoes are, and I don’t think I’ll have to take them back! I’m tempted to try on the dress here while MB’s at work, but black cat + white dress = not ever freakin’ likely. I have an appointment in May for alterations, which will probably only be to bustle the train — woot!

This is where this blog comes in. Since the dress fits like a glove, I need to maintain status quo. I’m all for beefing up my shoulders/arms, since the dress is strapless, but I can’t gain or lose very much anywhere else — hi, contradiction to pretty much every other entry I’ve ever written regarding my piss poor self-image. I am determined to chronicle my journey to fit, so to that end I made a decision today (yesterday, whatever). I’m going to write daily, or at least aim to. I’m going to babble about working out or not (probably not, knowing me). This is basically to have a public record, proof that I Am Trying. Plus, it’ll get old for everyone — me, you, etc. — if I keep saying the same ol’ thing eleventy-bajillion times (“Meant to work out today, ate a box of Freihofer’s instead. I’m such a cow!”).

Meanwhile, trying to wittle our guest list down to a non-scary number is giving me nightmares. Artie told MB that we shouldn’t feel obligated to invite he and Veggie Girl, which, sorry to say, is a bit of a relief. At last count, I totaled 125 people, counting wedding party. I’d like it to be smaller, but when you figure about a third won’t show, that drops the total down to about 94 — a nicer, less scary number. It’ll be our luck everyone will show. I need to get a number for my mother ASAP, because she’s tweaking about caterers and affordability and all that. Hopefully she won’t lose her mind about 125 if she keeps in mind 1/3 aren’t likely to come.

Feels like my little blue friends are winning — huzzah!

TMI alert: Since I’ve been a hot mess for the last month or so, I’ve decided to go back on birth control. The reason I stopped  it was because I was a hot mess mood-wise with the kind I was on. I’m willing to try something else to get myself in check. I’m presuming PMDD, but I’m no doctor. I’m hoping too that it will knock out the horrendous pain I go through the first day or so of Hell Week. A long time ago I suspected endometriosis, but was too afraid to speak up. We’ll see.

And now I can’t focus, so off to bed I go. Plus, this episode of South Park that I’m listening to is annoying me.

I have been one hot mess lately. I didn’t mention why the weekend turned sour in my last entry (mostly because I forgot… oops…) and really, it’s just more Second Verse, Same as the First.

Today, I’m on an upswing so far. Yesterday, I got the apartment started with the few Christmas decorations we have and the tree is up. Toots was very curious as to the thing Mommy was setting up in the living room, but has been a good girl about not wanting to play with anything hanging on it thus far ::knock on wood:: The cats seem largely oblivious, and hopefully they’ll stay that way ::knock again::

There she is in all her 4′ glory. And no, that’s not an actual Periodic Table on the wall; it has drink recipes instead of elements.

The best thing that happened yesterday is our new tenants moved in! HUZZAH! It’s a little bizarre right now to hear voices and movement downstairs. Toots is a bit confounded why there’s these strange people in her house, since Midget 1 and Skippy the Wonder Mechanic were here so infrequently. Just knowing that money will be coming in on a regular basis again (more than what Midget 1 and Skippy were paying, too) is such a relief. Plop, plop, fizz, fizz.

Only 14 days left in the semester and I’ve been on mental holiday since early November. I am so over this semester, you have no idea. I will, though, miss my Friday section. For a 9 a.m. class, they’re full of piss and vinegar and I’ll miss them terribly. And I’m totally geeked about next semester. I basically tore up my syllabus and started from scratch. This sucker is so air-tight and loophole-free that it’d take OJ’s Dream Team to find fault with it. I’m going in with guns blazing and I’m not taking any crap from anyone. This is after 5 semesters of trial and error. Going into the sixth, I think I’ve found my niche, policy-wise. Ms. Ter, the Doormat, will no longer exist. Now all I have to do is get specific assignments together and we’ll be ready to rock ‘n’ roll!

And now, to get ready to fight another fight. Today’s my “medium” day; on campus 1-6. Monday’s my “long” day (1-7:30) and Friday’s my “short” day (9-3). It’ll be an easy one, I hope!

I think I just had he best weekend in probably forever. At least, it started well. The ending left a little to be desired, but while I was in the thick of things, I was a happy kitty.

Friday we spent some time with MB’s D&D crew. Artie was among them, and we met up with Veggie Girl later at their house. But first, we played laser tag. Can we take a brief time out for me to whine about laser tag? I hate laser tag. Scratch that. I don’t like the basic concept. In fact, for 4 1/2 of the 5 1/2 years I’ve been with MB, I’ve fought him tooth and nail about going to play laser tag. I’ve played exactly once in my entire life, not even sure when but it was in 2009 for sure, and…

… heh…

… turns out it doesn’t exactly suck. I still don’t like the idea of running around in the almost dark under a black light, shooting at people, and tripping over ramps and other obstacles. Just doesn’t sound like a good time to me. Especially not at $8 for 15 minutes.

But that first time I went, I decided to go because I felt like I owed it to MB to go. And since it didn’t completely suck, I eagerly agreed to go on Friday with (most of) the D&D group. There was a birthday party there, so we were surrounded by elementary-aged snotballs. Fine, whatever. In our group, we decided that we would play guys versus girls, as there were six of us and evenly matched (as it were). There are two teams, red versus blue, and all the names on the vests are those of super heroes. I got the dubious distinction of being Megatron.

I have no idea who Megatron is, but it sounds like someone from Transformers. It’s after 1 a.m., you Google it.

Anyway, the teams ended up being unevenly matched, with red having the advantage. Us girls on the blue team got our butts handed to us, but it was fun.

Then we all caravaned to Artie’s house to play Munchkin. I heart Munchkin! It’s like D&D lite. It’s not as complicated, definitely more hilarious, and you most certainly level faster. With the 7 of us playing, it took a helluva long time for someone to win, but it was so fun trying to keep people from getting the winning level.

Saturday morning MB and I actually got to sit and do nothing, and loved every second of it. He even remarked to me that this was the first Saturday in a long time that we didn’t have to prepare for company or rush to be somewhere. We did, though, go to Poker C’s for a first-ever Texas Hold ‘Em tournament. Lots of MB’s co-workers were there, which was awesome. There was over 20 people over three tables. MB and I didn’t win in the two games we played. But it was still great to see our regular card group and to socialize with new people and ones that we see elsewhere. Poker C and her hubby have lots of games in their basement (where we held the tournament) for those of us that went all in and lost. Basketball, shuffleboard, darts, fooseball.

I’ve missed playing poker. Apparently MB’s co-workers want to play again soon. We’ve been wanting to host here for a while, but between two D&D campaigns and other social demands, plus me working on Sundays, who’s had time? We’re tentatively thinking early January — rather, I’d prefer January, that way Christmas is out of the way and I won’t have to worry about school just yet.

And now I must get my butt to bed. Tomorrow’s my last day before Turkey Day and with some baking I want to do, it’s going to prove to be a long one.

Whooo! Can we say “overemotional” and “bipolar”? That was me well over my head in the middle of a monster of an anxiety attack. I went to bed shortly after posting that entry and I surprisingly got 5 hours of sleep, even with the brief interruption to take Toots out around 5:30. I wasn’t overly grumpy or dragging all day, so go me? I am mostly caught up with my grading, at least in the immediate assignments that matter. Those I’m behind with can wait until class tomorrow. That’s what set this whole thing off, my lack of time management. As soon as I got a few assignments graded, I felt instantly better. Man, I’m a dunce sometimes. I totally did this to myself. Good job, Ter!

Today I managed to get all of the drafts done for my Friday class. I also managed to play with my wedding playlists — consolidated into one big musical wish list (I’m giving up doing the music myself in favor of paying someone far more qualified to do it) — and made a loaf of cheese and herb bread — the apartment smells uh-may-zing! So this is what it feels like to feel accomplished… I’ve known all along, but once I hit the lazy button, sometimes it’s hard to reset.

My anxiety comes back in small waves when I think about the last entry and the stuff in it, but it goes usually as quick as it comes. I’ll basically have an anxious hangover for a little while, and that’s okay. I’ve come to expect it. It’s all about addressing it head on, acknowledging it, and saying “be gone!” I’m not exactly a pro at this stuff, but I’m dealing. I’m far better at it than I was ten or more years ago, back when I was contemplating bad stuff (that I could never follow through on anyway because I’m a collosal chicken and my conscience is surprisingly loud at times). At least now I know what it is and not scared that I’m nuts (although… nah…) or mistaking it for something else. This will probably be something I’ll have to deal with my whole life, and I’m okay with that because I have some coping skills. If I hadn’t figured it out two years ago when I woke up in the middle of an anxiety attack (fun… no…), I’m not sure how the other night would have turned out. I’m not saying I’d have hurt myself, but it may have gone on longer than it did.

Meanwhile, now that the bulk of my grading’s done, I’m getting ready to head to my niece Brittsie Cat’s basketball game. Her college is playing the school I work at tonight in a make up game from last week. I’m definitely cheering for her school, especially since I don’t know anyone on our team this year. No allegiances (implied or explicit) = no problem rooting for the away team. I’ve seen Brittsie Cat more times in the last year than I did when I lived back home. I love it!

Here’s my F’book status for the interested:

(Anxiety + coffee)(stress x 2) – my little blue friends = insomnia = yuck. Is it Fall 2010 yet?

I’ll work backwards. I’m no stranger to this feeling. Wound up. Stomach tight. Neck stiffening. I’m eyeball-deep in an anxiety attack. My little blue friends are the sleeping pills I inconveniently ran out of. Anxiety at bedtime = insomnia = anxiety = prolonged insomnia = anxiety = ::flatline::

I’m stressing x 2 because my time management sucks. T-minus 8 months, 20 days until ba da da-da… and, well, see also: my previous entry. I’m behind in two classes with grading. I’d rather do anything but that. And the longer I put it off, the more pressing it becomes (only 5 weeks left in the semester, yikes!). I’m too wound about the wedding to care about essays, and I’m too wound about the semester to sit and focus properly.

I switched brands of coffee today. I doubt that has anything to do with it. I’ve been sipping on this cup for, oh, 6 hours now. It’s pretty cold, and kinda gross. I think the blend I bought isn’t playing nice with my Creamer of the Moment (hazelnut biscotti). I’ll know better in the a.m. Oh wait, it is the a.m. Shit, I suck. See, no time management skills.

All of this is giving me anxiety. I feel like I’m letting my classes down. I’m frustrated with all this wedding nonsense. I finally got most of the dishes done, money thrown at a few bills, gas in my car, groceries bought, fridge and freezer cleaned out, counters wiped down, pantry somewhat organzed, but it was all long overdue. Midget 2 backed out of the wedding (in support of Midget 1, which I suspected would happen), so I asked Social Butterfly and she’s thrilled to no end. So I guess that’s one worry off my list.

But my mind keeps tweaking, and tweaking me out. Like, in the midst of all this crap, I keep ping ponging back to a darker time in my life, back before MB, when I still lived with my parents. It wasn’t dark because of who I was living with, but who I was associating with, who I was becoming. I keep bouncing back to two guys in particular who really messed me up (at the time). Both were relationships, platonic and almost not, that I should have gotten away from and didn’t. I was strung along, mentally manipulated, believed that both of them were my ticket to happiness. Neither could commit, one was two-faced, the other a chickenshit.

I’m pissed at myself that I can’t let the past stay past. I almost messed up the best thing I’ve got — my relationship with MB — because I couldn’t let the past stay past a couple years ago, and I’ve never really forgiven myself for that. He’s told me that he’s moved past it — obviously, we’re engaged. I’m so afraid I’m going to screw this up and lose the one person who’s helped me become so much better than I ever thought, helped me bring out the girl who was always hiding inside and was too afraid to come out to play. I look at this ring on my finger and feel so much love and life. MB is my life. He’s the reason I’m bugging out over money and flowers and food. He’s it, end of discussion.

I hate that I can’t forgive myself. I hate that I dwell, and obsess. It’s worse when I’m stressed, so I’m not surprised that it’s almost 3 a.m. and I’m updating my blog instead of snuggled next to my man. I hate that I put myself through this, and for what? I’m not gaining an ounce by bugging out over things I did 7-8 years ago. I’m not that person anymore. Why I can’t just let it all go, I have no idea. It took me almost just as long to move past older hurts, older demons. Is a decade really necessary to forget stuff, to firmly pack it away?

I’m scared he’ll find out where my mind wanders. I’m scared he’ll assume things, and leave me. I couldn’t take that. You’d be slipping on a puddle of Ter, because there would be nothing left but goo. It’d kill me. I have no desire to tell him even an ounce of what I think about sometimes. But I’m afraid he can tell, somehow, like I have a scarlet letter or that it’s in my actions, my voice, my expression. I don’t do this intentionally. I’m not trying to fuck this up, and I continually think I am.

On a lucid, logical level, I think the reason these two guys keep popping into my consciousness is because I was deeply hurt by them. In the first case, I allowed myself to be led on by a womanizer. I let him build me up with sweet talk and false promises. I knew he was bad news, and kept going anyway, because I wanted him, dammit. And I was dumb enough to let him back in not once, not twice, but many times. And the last time almost cost me MB.

The other one was just as bad. He also built me up, and I knew better with him too. He even left the state without so much as a “see ya”, and I still let him in. The worst of it? Up until about two years ago I was still in contact with him. When he e-mailed me suddenly about a year ago — after I had done all I could to block him — I did ask MB what I should do. I deleted the e-mail. But I never told MB about all the ones prior. They contained nothing but whining about work, getting the house, nothing that wouldn’t have passed between friends catching up after a long absence.

See, that’s the thing. What happend with the first guy a couple years ago, it brought up trust issues. MB has apparently worked through them, but I haven’t. I’m constantly worried that I will lose his trust. I feel like I have to tell him everything. Back in the beginning of September, I went to an auction with Mom C and Crazy A. I drove Crazy A since she doesn’t drive at night. It was right before her birthday, and The Contractor told her to have me take her to get a birthday present from him. So we made excuses and left the auction early. Mom C thinks I went home. I didn’t. MB thought when I’d gotten home I’d been at the auction the whole time. I had a massive anxiety attack that night and fessed up the next day to him.

I’m sure some psychologist somewhere would say that the reason I’m thinking about all this past stuff is because I’m afraid this is how my relationship with MB will end up. Or that I’m not ready to get married. I know for absolute certain that MB is the man I’m meant to spend my life with. I think (I hope) I’ve learned my lessons from the past. I must have, since I’m in my ideal relationship. So why won’t these demons go away? What worries me most is, I’ll never be able to let go. How many nights will I sit awake at ass crack o’clock worrying about something I did when I was 21?

This has to stop. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I need to strengthen my logical brain, and learn to shut up that stupid little voice that keeps needling at me, saying, “Yeah, but…” Butts are for pooping. I think, more than anything else, I need to get to sleep. My alarm goes off in 3 1/2 hours. I better use a big mug tomorrow for coffee.

Dear Wedding,

You suck. Go away.

***

Dear Money,

Be fruitful and multiply. That’s an order, not a suggestion.

***

Dear vendors,

WTF? Anally raping people during a recession is not a wise business move.

***

Dear MB,

Planning a wedding during a recession is un-bug-fucking-lievably dumb of us. I love you!

***

Dear families,

We love you guys, but please just send money. Don’t come. We can’t afford to feed you.

***

Dear calendar,

Go backwards. Just for a month or two. Please? Pretty please? With cherries?

***

Dear bank account,

It’s called steroids. Take them. ASAP.

***

Dear my job,

Full time for the spring would be great right about now.

***

Dear MB’s job,

A raise would be great right about now. A big one.

***

Dear readers,

Just because I’m whiney and hormonal right now (TMI?) doesn’t mean I don’t get that this is just a passing phase and that things will work out. I’m just stuck in “This Sucks-diddly-ucks, Flanders” mode. Because right now, all this wedding bullshit does in fact suck-diddly-uck.