THE TOILET

Let me just tell you about the toilet.

I find the bathroom the best/most creative place for me to write. I wrote my entire Masters thesis in the bathroom, which probably frustrated my flatmates. It's a small enclosed area where I can't get distracted. I like reading and writing there and it's convenient when I actually do have to use the toilet. I run out of excuses to be distracted when I am there. There are a few annoyances for me with the bathroom though, and I take to my blog to assist me in my venting.

I hate when American toilets are automatic. I see no point to this. I mean, you are already going to get germs on you in the bathroom. Have we become so lazy as a society that we can't flush AND wipe our asses? The automatic flushing toilets really bother me because they never work properly--ANYWHERE. I have been all over the US and Europe and have yet to find one toilet that doesn't prematurely flush. It also seems that as soon as you shift slightly on the toilet, the flush goes off and you get an enema that you didn't want. It seems that automatic flushes have a very powerful spray of water that sort of acts like a beday. The average amount of time that I use the toilet, the automatic flusher goes off at least 3 times. Finally, when you are actually finished on the toilet and you stand up, it conveniently doesn't flush. This makes you have to touch the toilet again so that it flushes. Am I the only one that finds this highly irritating? I really don't like the toilet water shooting up at me when I am not prepared. This is not a pleasant experience and often leaves me pretty cranky.

The other irritation I have in the bathroom is when you really have to go and once you reach for the toilet paper it is not there. Not even a tiny leftover piece for you to try and work with. This usually happens to me when I REALLY need toilet paper. And girls don't like peeing when other's are in the bathroom, so we wait to pee until someone leaves. By then though, it is too late for you to get any assistance in the toilet paper famine.

Finally, my last annoyance is when you can't find where the roll begins. Ellen Degeneres has a good skit on toilet paper here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=211d75ohM8I
This is utterly annoying: I see the toilet paper but I cannot access the toilet paper because the roll is glued down. How is this convenient!?

With every creative place comes annoyances I guess. I will still continue to use the bathroom as a safe haven of distractions.

Barbie Wars

A Barbie doll to a five year old is like a new pre-packaged best friend just waiting to be unwrapped. For my fifth birthday what I had wanted more than anything was a beautiful ice skater Barbie, complete with the flowing, multicolored skirt, sequined hat, and the brightly polished plastic skates. She was just breathtaking. Every time her commercial would come on the television, I would stop whatever I was doing and just watch as she danced on the ice. She was almost all I could think about. I would sit during the day and imagine what I was going to do with her when I had her, which one of my Kens would be lucky enough to date her, and which Barbie car she would drive. Needless to say, when my birthday arrived I was more than ecstatic to open my presents.

            My birthday party could not have gone by any slower and as the other children tried to pin the tail on the donkey, I stared at the present table longingly, trying to decipher which present my Barbie awaited. Finally my moment arrived, and we all stampeded to the table of presents. I carelessly discarded every card that had meaningless green paper inside and went right for the big stuff. As with every birthday party, the children had to try to help me unwrap my presents, but I pushed their hands away as I unwrapped the rectangular box.

There she was, cleverly wrapped in the Barbie wrapping paper, staring up at me with the most beautiful smile ever. I squealed with delight as my small fingers clawed at the box, trying desperately to help my new friend out of her resting place. My mom knew better though and took Barbie out of my weak hold while telling me I had to wait until everyone left. The party dragged on after that for what seemed like days, and when the last child went home I raced to my room. Barbie was sitting on my bed, unwrapped, awaiting my presence.

Yet just as I was about to grab her, I was pushed by none other than the devil child, also known as my three year old sister Kelsy. She grabbed ice skater Barbie and started playing with her. My fists clenched, my jaw tightened, and my eyes blazed. It was MY birthday and Barbie was MY birthday present. The fury built up inside me and I immediately dove at Kelsy and started pulling Barbie out of her grasp.

            What happened next was a blur, Kelsy had Barbie’s head and I her body, when all of a sudden, we heard a loud pop. I looked down at Barbie, horrified to see her head in Kelsy’s nimble fingers, and her body in my loving hands. With that I did the one thing that will call any mother, I cried. I cried with all my might, and my mother came racing down the hall. I looked at my evil sister with rage, while she tried to figure out what had happened. My mother did everything she could to save Barbie, but after several minutes of failure Barbie was put to rest, both of her, into the garbage can.

             I thought for sure that Kelsy would get the ultimate punishment for her crime, but as the crocodile tears poured down her cheeks she was let off the hook with a simple scolding. It was an outrage! She skipped past me and went on to play with her toys. She had ruined my birthday by decapitating ice skater Barbie and her punishment was a “don’t do that again” statement! It was troubling. I knew for Barbie’s sake, I had to avenge her memory.

            Therefore, I did the only thing that I could think of. I snuck into her room and took out her box of Barbies. I was going to pull off all of their heads, but as they stared up at me innocently I couldn’t bring myself to commit such a heinous crime. Instead I grabbed each Barbie, one at a time and gnawed on their hands. I sat there and chewed at each one until I decided that I had done enough. I put them all back and went to find Kelsy.

“Kelsy, do you want to play with me?” I asked in the most innocent voice possible.

She eagerly nodded her head and followed me into her room to play Barbies. Pure horror coated Kelsy’s face when she pulled each Barbie out of the box, only to realize that they all had arthritic hands. I smirked as she cried and then my mom came bounding into the room again and yanked me off the floor. She demanded to know why I had done it, but I remained silent. I knew she was a pushover; I had seen her with Kelsy many a times. She was furious with me and she grounded me for a week with no t.v. and an hour long nap each day. That was one of the WORST punishments of all time! I tried crying, but she refused my tears. I tried begging, but she refused to listen. I was to simply go to my room and think about what I had done, and then apologize to the murderess herself.

            That was the day where sister rivalry was taken to a whole new level. I have never fully forgiven Kelsy for ruining my favorite Barbie and when she breaks something of mine, the ice skater Barbie incident is never failed to be mentioned. I thought back then that revenge would ease the pain. Since then, I have come to learn that revenge is only fulfilling when you can get away with it.

My Broken Foot

So as I guessed, I broke my foot by stepping in dog shit. I spent a good majority of my time this evening at the emergency room in the financial district. I went by myself and I was scared out of my mind. Very strange to see an emergency room. It was strangely not busy and I waited patiently to be seen. The doctor to see me put me on a bed and made me wait while he ate an entire dinner in front of me. Finally, after chatting with all of the other nurses and occasionally glancing over at me with God, I might have to work, he came over and said "right, what is the trouble?" I told him that I thought my foot was broken and showed him the deformed right foot. He looks at it and says, "woah." Very comforting, you think? Then he told me that I needed an x-ray and had to wait for the x-ray tech guy. Well no shit dr. So I continue sitting on my bed as he goes back and eats his fudge sundae and I wait for the x-ray man to come for me. Meanwhile, I heard the woman down the hall screaming at her nurse that she could go f-herself and the nurse yelling back at her. This woman was so strung out on drugs that she actually pissed and crapped herself at the same time on the bed. The nurse was irate and tried to explain to the woman that she couldn't do that on the bed. The woman was then convinced that the nurse had peed on her! I couldn't believe how shocking it is to hear the kind of conversation I was hearing. So much great writing lost because I was so stressed out. Next to my bed was a guy who had told his crazy ex-girlfriend that he didn't want to be with her anymore and she had smashed a bottle into his ear. I was even more terrified than before about being there by myself. In a room full of crazies and no method of escaping. I spend another hour and a half waiting for the x-ray tech to come after his dinner. It was completely awful. He finally came and took me in a wheelchair and I roll past the crazy lady who growls at me, "You're a cock-sucker!" Okay...it took 10 minutes of x-rays before they confirmed to me that I broke the top of my foot. They also were kind of confused when I told them that I slipped in dog shit in the rain as the reason for breaking my foot. After being there for almost 3 hours now to confirm what I already knew--broken foot, I wasn't in the mood for much more. The doctor referred me to a foot specialist who came in and gave me a boot and crutches. Now crutches are the absolute worst thing in the entire world. I have no upper body strength and I am, well, well-endowed in the upper chest arena so crutches are awful. I can't support that kind of strain. I am also just ridiculous on crutches. I put them in the wrong spot and once I start going, I can't seem to stop. I got in a cab and went home for the evening. In the morning I decided to use my crutches and my whole upper body ached. I was so annoyed. I live 1/2 mile away from the train station and work 1/2 mile away from the other train station. Walking at least 2 miles on crutches turned me full of rage. I was ready to take one of my crutches and just beat the next person I saw. I was so angry. I decided to take the bus (which I hate) to avoid walking all the way to the station. The bus driver berated me for not letting the man with the wheelchair on the bus first. Honestly I didn't know he was riding the bus as he was pretty far away from the stop. I apologised and hobbled back off the bus feeling like crap. I helped push the wheelchair into the bus while on crutches and he got strapped in and then I hobbled back on the bus. The bus was full and no one would look me in the eyes to give up their seat for me with my crutches. I decided not to make a big deal of it and held on to the railing. The bus driver all of a sudden slammed on her brakes and the wheelchair popped out of the straps and took out the only leg I was standing on. I was then flung all the way down the aisle, hit my head on the ticket stand and crumpled against the glass door. A big gasp let out and I was convinced at that moment that the world was out to get me. I couldn't get up as my crutches (and myself) were sprawled all over the bus. A nice man finally helped me up as I started whimpering in immense pain. I couldn't believe that the people on the bus still wouldn't get up for me. It was only after the man held me up and told them to give up their seat that they finally relented. It was such a shock to me at the selfish people in the world. It is disgusting. I gave up crutches after a day and a half. I still have bruises on my boobs and armpits and my arms ache, but my rage was awful and my faith in humanity was waning whilst on crutches. I feel better just hobbling around. Having a broken foot in the city is completely awful. You have to walk everywhere. There is no escalator, no elevator in any of the stations that you end up using regularly. There end up being no elevators in your place of work, in friend's apartments, and in your own apartment. It sucks. I can't deal with the crutches. Two weeks on them?! Seriously?! No way Jose. Not happening. I respect everyone with some sort of disability because living in this city is very hard without being a fully able body to walk. 6 weeks of broken foot-ness and hopefully I will be healed after that.

Giving up

I hate giving up on things. I really do. I hate when I try very hard to make things work out and it turns out to be all for not. I always think that giving up on something or walking away from something will mean that I have failed somehow. If I had tried a little harder, put in a little more effort, played my cards right then things would have worked out. I don't give up very easily. It is a blessing and a curse. Actually, it is the perfect interview answer when they ask about your weaknesses. I can't walk away. I show this time and again at jobs, with people, with money, with all aspects of my life. I would be less stressed out if I could learn to walk away from things that I know are bad for my mental health. I think that people use this against me and end up wronging me. The weird thing is that every time it happens, I am always caught off guard. Patterns totally exist. I need to learn how to be okay with giving up. Throw in the towel and just sleep it off. Yes, it would be a disappointment to me, but is it worth it Jessica to stress out about things that are out of my control? I know the answer, yet I cannot train my brain and I get this feeling of hopelessness.

Today is a sad day. Today, someone gave up on me. They were able to walk away and I was left with all of the cards. When someone breaks your heart, that date is seared into your brain. It's like a death. And there is always going to be some uneasiness around that date in future years. It's been a few years and I am in a better place now, but I still feel a bit anxious. Is this an unlucky date for me? I am not sure if I believe in it but I still am on edge every July 11th. Do you have a date that terrifies you? I feel like if I can just make it through the day without my world crumbling around me than I have made it through another year. Because I am just "surviving" this date every year, I can't help but wonder if I make others uncomfortable. By avoiding this bad day, will that invite other bad luck to follow me? Do I depress those who care about me? I am sure that I do.

Sometimes giving up seems like the easy option, but it's not. Figure out what is worth giving up and what is not. And talk it out. Tell someone. The most overwhelming thing for people like us is thinking that we are alone.

To those who struggle with depression and anxiety, I feel for you. I have depression and anxiety. I know what you are going through. I understand how you may feel like you have no control over anything. I appreciate you just making it through the day. Every day. I do the same. Please know that you are not alone. Please know that there are people around you who love you. Please know that you are not a burden to those around you. Please know that I love you.

Be strong. Live honorably and with dignity. When you don't think you can, HOLD ON.--James Frey

A Walk in the Rain

Last week I decided to walk home from work. It had been rainy for the past several days in the city and I wanted to take the 4 mile walk home. The sun was shining and the birds were singing in approval of my journey. I left my coat at the office, grabbed some work to take home, and started walking. The problem with my decision is that once I get past a certain part on my trip home, there are absolutely no methods of transportation for me to take. Cabs--nada, buses--few and far between, train--say what? Nope. Right when I got to Prospect park (some 2.5 miles till home), the sunglasses came off and the thunderstorm emerged. Rain was coming at me sideways and very heavy and I had no place to duck into to avoid the rain. I became very, very wet. I was sliding all over in my flipflops, causing me to almost fall at every imperfection in the sidewalk. I looked like a drowned rat who happened to win the wet t-shirt contest. People pointed and laughed at me as they passed me in their dry vehicles and I cursed the gods for this healthy, and ironically, increasingly unhealthy decision I had made. Just when I thought my day couldn't get worse, I accidentally slipped on dog shit and slid across the sidewalk and landed in a freshly made lake. I twisted my ankle on dog shit. Yes, it is possible. I had to hobble the rest of the way home. Just goes to show you that you should check for dog shit before running in the rain. Moral of the story!