A Thief’s Rugmorse
Mr. Q and I recently combined households to form a supergroup of short people and lazy dogs. Due in large part to our mutual “blah” interior design aesthetic, a majority of our chairs, tables, textiles, etc married quite well when we squished them all into the same apartment.
Allow me a moment to define the “blah” aesthetic.
“blah” aesthetic – (n) blah es-thet-ik
black, white, beige. in some instances, no knobs.
Ok. I added on that part at the end about no knobs because I have a strange aversion to furniture with knobs. But that’s abloggins for another day.
So anyway. The point is, our color palate lacks an actual color. I’m comfortable with it that way, but I understand a little bit of color could liven things up a bit and am open to possibility of one day maybe incorporating one, maybe two colors …yeah, no. Nevermind.
Several days after we move in, there appears a rug on our balcony. This one, actually:
And to further explain why this is the strangest occurrence ever, our balcony is about 2ft by 3in and 3 stories up. After minutes of perplexed face-making and head-tilting, it is deduced the rug probably fell from the balcony above during a storm the night before.
I immediately decide we should adopt the rug, and I roll it out on our living room floor.
The next evening it catches my attention that if we were to leave the blinds slightly open, someone outside would definitely be able to see the rug just lying there on our floor.
I try the rug out in our bathroom. I’m beginning to have thief’s remorse.
About 3 or 4 nights after the rug joined our family, we faintly hear a bit of commotion. Carlos mutes the TV and stands very still, then slowly wanders over towards the door to the balcony. Our neighbor upstairs is standing outside on the phone, and yelling. Loudly. And angrily.
I start thinking. What if we befriended the neighbor, only for him to enter our bathroom months later and then kill us while in a rage over our betrayal of friendship. What if we befriended another neighbor who heard from another neighbor that yet another neighbor’s rug disappeared, and after visiting our apartment, the rumors start flying until we are arrested for rug larceny and one day my troubled past surfaces, ruining my campaign for president and ultimately, my political career.
I command Carlos to take the rug to the leasing office first thing in the morning to be returned to it’s rightful owner. I sleep with one eye open that night.
The next morning our apartment is returned to its former blah, a few days later I spot the rug back on the angry neighbor’s balcony, and all is once again right in the world.
Ok. I think my conscience is clear now.
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Taypruinones Build a Bookcase
We are tiny, wimpy, and also (one of us more so than me) complainy people. So I think I can safely say, neither were exactly looking forward to this day. However we managed to successfully assemble one bookcase today, and everyone is still alive. Teamwork!
For instructional and inspirational purposes, I would like to share this day with the world. High five!
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Sexing Ira Glasses
We’ve been watching the This American Life Showtime series on Netflix the last few days, because I don’t get enough Ira Glass by listening to NPR non-stop.
Have I mentioned how much I want to sex Ira Glass?
…Apparently I have.
Anyway. Yesterday after several hours of Carlos making fun of Ira Glass, (no doubt from the insecurity he experiences due to how much I want to sex Ira Glass) we excitedly and inventively coined the phrase “Ira Glasses.”
Of course, like every great idea I have, it’s already been dreamed up, mentioned, and exploited many times.
Foiled again!
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I’m in love with a video game nerd. Not your typical video game nerd, an actual video game nerd. I’m still working on convincing him to help me make educational video games for 1st graders so I can quit my day my job , and we can live happily ever after as business partners. But I digress.
Although I’m still trying to find the appeal of sitting around shooting at giant alien ants, I’ve gotten Dear Carlos to appreciate the awesomeness of Popcap. Namely Peggle (which I’m earning the achievement points for him on Xbox) and my new favorite of all time, Plants vs Zombies (although I think I love the music video more than the game.) (Just like this kid.) (But I digress.) (Again.)
Several days ago Carlos asked me what it is I like about these games. To which I sheepishly replied, “Lord Cinderbottom.”
I had never really thought about it, so his question actually got me thinking. Because I like to know everything. Yesterday I arrived to the conclusion that I like to play games that seem simple enough, but you can develop complex strategies. I told this to Carlos and his response was “Ooh. Talk dirty to me.” I then somewhat regretted spending the previous three days considering his initial question so seriously.
Basically, I like to escape in a simplistic game for the sole purpose of overthinking it.
Several months ago I spent about two weeks wrapped up in a flash game that I don’t even know how I stumbled upon it (EDIT: yes I do. I was bored at work), Filler. First of all, it has a naughty name. Within the five minutes of playing this game, I was hooked. Captivating plot? No. Complex character development? No. Mind-blowing graphics? Uh, no.
The reason I played this game non-stop until the carpal tunnel set in; science. SCIENCE! I immediately found this game a fascinating analogue to the study of fluid mechanics. I coupled bouts of absent-mindedly clicking the mouse, with the opportunity to study up on some fluid dynamics, brownian motion, particle theory. I even went searching for a 25 page lab report I wrote in an Advanced Chemistry lab course during college.
…Isn’t that sad?
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“Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today.” -(According to my Google Search) Thomas Jefferson
A nugget of wisdom indeed.
Throughout my struggle with Taylor’s Syndrome, I constantly try to do more and more volunteer work with my “free” time. In the past, I volunteered for a literacy program and showed up a total of two times. I’ve attended several volunteer training sessions that I never followed up with afterwards, including helping adults prepare for the GED, tutoring teen moms, and even for a UNICEF initiative. Since all immediately resulted in the realization that I was over-committing myself, I never stuck with any of them and I felt like asshole for being a flake for months to follow.
Last fall I had the great idea that I would change the world and try to tackle all the misinformation out there in the universe about ADHD. In fact, this was initially when and why I started this blog. I wrote two posts and realized I was just angry and trying to prove something to myself, and I wasn’t saying anything different than the other 9 billion angry people on the internet. So I deleted the posts and felt like an asshole for looking like an asshole on the internet for months to follow.
Ever since I was diagnosed about 9 years ago, things like debates over whenever or not ADHD is “real” and the opinion that medication is the “easy way out”, have really affected my self-esteem. At several points in my life I believed that I was just lazy, or that I didn’t really have ADHD and was just taking medication so I could make better grades than everyone else.
Finally, I (somewhat) accepted that ADHD was real and I had it, and started the mission to cure myself and prove that I could do anything a “normal” person could do, only BETTER. There are obviously about 40 things wrong with that sentence, and thus began my spiral into a “Non-functioning Perfectionism” later recognized as Taylor’s Syndrome.
Anyway, last fall I decided to combine the powers of my “set the record straight about ADHD” self-esteem problem and my uncontrollable desire to set the world record for “volunteer that has flaked out on the most non-profit organizations”.
I contacted The 504 School, a small school in Midtown for students with ADHD, and volunteered to come in once a week to do fun science lessons with the students.
So I met with the director and visited the school for a tour, and my first lesson with the students was fast-approaching. I was kind of short on ideas for lessons, or more like overwhelmed with ideas, so I called my Aunt Carol, R.N. and asked her if she’d like to come with me and do a lesson about first aid or anatomy or wearing scrubs and being sassy, whatever it is nurses major in. But mainly I asked her because I’m kind of petrified of children and I had no idea what to expect. So I called for back up. She excitedly agreed to prepare a short lesson with even shorter attention spans in mind, and said she would figure it out and get back to me.
Aunt Carol, R.N. and I were going to meet at the school first thing on a Monday morning, and I spent the 4 days before that trying to call and get in touch with her and find out what she had decided to do. Finally late Sunday afternoon I got her on the phone and asked her if she had everything ready to go to the school. She told me she was going to start working on it after dinner. My response was… “Wow! You’ve really been procrastinating?!”, and she said to me, “I never procrastinate. I just do things when they need to be done.” And with that, she showed up on time the next morning with a fully prepared lesson about the 5 senses complete with things to smell, touch, hear, and whatever other senses there are too. I actually still volunteer at the school and have two more visits before the school year ends. Although in recent months I’ve had to cancel several weeks, instead of being so ashamed of myself that I can never show my face there again, I send guilt and apology-ridden emails. So that’s gotta be some sort of progress. To my surprise, they seem to understand and constantly thank me for any of my time that I can spend with the students. I really like going and always look forward to the days I do make it over there, usually with a hardcore DIY mix of arts and crafts and science.
I procrastinate. All the time. Not ironically, this post is two days late. 
But I think I don’t have so feel so bad about not being all Thomas Jeffersonian, and just try to be a little more Aunt Carol R.N.ian.
“I never procrastinate. I just do things when they need to be done.” -Aunt Carol R.N.
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Imperfectionism
I recently realized I suffer from perfectionism. Yes, suffer. I’ve self-diagnosed myself (because I like to do that) with what I call “Non-Functioning Perfectionism” or more simply, Taylor’s Syndrome.
If I can’t complete a task perfectly and to completion all at once, I will put it off until I think I can. As a result, my apartment is always a disaster, I’ll spend hours or days at a time in my office worrying about how to get work done instead of just doing work, I sleep about 4 hours a night and have a generally stressed and cranky disposition. These are really just the beginning of things that constantly trouble me. Things have been getting progressively worse, and I know was headed towards becoming completely paralyzed by my need to do everything and be the best at it.
I’ve been making little resolutions for the last few weeks. Some have helped, some haven’t. For almost 7 years, I had blogs and posted 2 or 3 times a week. Consistently. For 7 years. It’s something that always made me really happy. My silly insights are things I love about myself, and practically every other day I spent time doing something I enjoyed that reminded me how great it is to be me.
I stopped a little over a year ago because I didn’t think the things I normally wrote about, i.e. my thoughts, were any longer interesting enough to document. In all honesty, this really was an accurate thought. By that time, I had gotten to the point where I was so obsessed with making myself “better,” I had stopped enjoying what it meant to be me. And life really hasn’t been that interesting since then.
So my latest resolution is to post a blog at least once a week, and only proofread it once before I publish it. It doesn’t matter if it’s “interesting” enough or not, or how many typos are left, or if it even makes any sense.
So, this my first one.
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Los Perros y Burritos
In two days I begin an online Spanish course. I had a short-lived back-and-forth in my head over what would be more effective, online or classroom instruction. Ultimately I chose online, because the course started sooner and I’m plagued with “I Want It Now” syndrome.
There are many obvious benefits of developing a basic understanding of the Spanish language. It’s vocabulary-building, resume-building, as well as the native language of my dear Carlos. However, for me the overwhelming factor for this pursuit is quite simple. I want to overhear Carlos’s phone calls.
I’ve always thought one of the best ways to get to know someone is to eavesdrop on their phone calls. It’s the quickest route to, and a big part of an honest and open relationship. Unfortunately, I can’t understand a damn thing Carlos discusses on the phone with his family.
This drives me insane to no end.
I can ask him to summerize his conversation for me once a call has ended. But I can’t help but feel he’s holding back.
I have no understanding of Spanish grammar, and unless he reviewing the Taco Bell menu, I can’t pick up on any vocab words either. I’m constantly certain I hear him say “perros” (one of the few words beyond the cuisine lexicon I’m familiar with), but he never admits to phone discussions involving antics of Daisy and The Bij.
I want Quinones family gossip! And I want it now!
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Happy Darwin Day!
I decided Darwin Day would be a good day to start a new blog. Why? Because I’ve always heard that Charlie himself started his own blog on his 28th birthday way back in 1827. He was very ahead of his time.
(Not so) Fact of the Day: Later in his life, Charles Darwin created the very first iPod prototype. True story.
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