Oh my.

You know that day when you walk into work and everyone you know has been fired without warning? Yeah... that was today.

I still have a position until the beginning of January, but after that, it's up in the air.

Wrong number?

So I'm sitting at one of my jobs tonight, in my quiet, little office. Since I'm working the 5pm-10pm shift, I didn't expect any phone calls.

But the phone did ring.

I answered the call with my usual officey introduction, but I don't think the caller caught it. In fact, I'm quite certain that the caller didn't intend to call my office at all. I think she meant to call an acquaintance, as she began asking me questions about how to pressure cook raw chicken.

I was taken aback at first, and waited for the caller to realize her mistake, but she just waited on the other end of the line, patiently awaiting answers about pressure cookers, lids, and elevation.

So I googled the information for her. And then she started asking how I can - for instance, how long I boil the lids. It's a good thing my friend Emily taught me to can peaches 2 months ago, or I would not have had answers.

She seemed like a nice lady, and I didn't want to make her feel awkward over what I'm sure was a simple mis-dial, so I went along with it and wished her luck.

Oh Utah. You are SO strange.

Philosophical Question:

Why is it that when something bad happens, it's definitely not because of God, but...

when something good happens, it's only because of God?

GRE and stuff.

Tomorrow I am taking a GRE practice test administered by Kaplan. I've been studying for 6 weeks, so I'm hoping I do reasonably well.

Today I was finally able to PAY for my freakin' test ($175), but of course, since it's so late in the test-taking game, both of the weekends I WANTED to take the exam are full. So I'll be taking the real test in 2 weeks, when I had planned on 3-4.

Fine. Whatever. This test makes me nauseated. So today I found my testing center in order to prevent getting lost on my way there.

PC does not have a section for me to teach next term, so for the next 5 weeks, I'm down to 2 part-time jobs. Honestly, I'm considering applying for a 4th. Which is batshit crazy, but the ends have to meet somehow.

Also, I'm happy to report that, after months of downstairs neighbors having noisy sex, I'm quite certain that the wife finally got off last night. Good for her. And about damn time.

Here's the thing about the work situation: right now, I am getting by, but barely. I'm not sure how I'm going to afford PhD applications, which, between app fees, GRE score-sending fees, and transcript-sending fees, will range in price from $80-$150 for each program I apply to. And I don't know how it's going to happen. I really don't. Especially with PC not having work for me this term. And who knows when they will? I'm an adjunct. I don't get job security, and with their terms being so short, I never really get to take a breath, either.

I have a complicated relationship with prayer. I don't feel comfortable asking for things, from people or from God. Even when someone owes me something, or it really IS their turn to pay for something, I won't ask. Someone told me recently that we HAVE to ask for specifics, so I tried it out. I prayed that I would have a section this term, so I could stop having bleeding ulcers from stress. And maybe I could afford my birth control, which I have to take to stay healthy, or risk losing my ovaries or getting cancer. I've been off my BC for 3 weeks, because taking care of my health is just not in the budget. I mean, gas and food are barely covered.
I'm struggling with this right now. I pleading from the depths of my soul for 2 sections. I got zero. What am I supposed to take away from this situation about God's love for me? I don't have a lot of options here. I'm working more than full-time hours. I WANT to work. I WANT to have a care for my health, but right now, that's a luxury I can't afford.

Someone I love asked me recently what I would do, if I could do anything? What would be my dream job. It seemed to me to be a self-indulgent question. I don't care if I'm happy. I don't care if my hours are horrible or if my boss is a jackass.
I care about being secure.
I can't afford the luxury of dreaming about happiness.

You know when you're waiting for an important email and every time a message shows up in your inbox you get hopeful? And then it's never the one you want? So you get mad at it?

Yup.

I'm waiting to hear of PC has a course for me to teach during their next term. I'm thinking not, which is problematic. I may have to find a 4th (4!) part time job.

I found a quote on Pinterest that sums up my thoughts well: I can't believe that I work so hard to be this poor.

Fair warning.

A dear friend of mine is up the spout, 22 weeks and counting. I love her because, while she's LDS like me, she isn't all fake-cheery, nothing-is-wrong, all-this-shit-must-be-god's-plan irritating. Maybe my bullshit tolerance is lower than it used to be, but right now, fair warning people, undue cheeriness may incite acts of aggression.

My reasons for this grumpiness are as follows: with my MA in hand, I have managed only to procure 3 part-time jobs. With these jobs, I work 45-58 hours per week and have no health insurance or job security. Every time someone says, "Well, thank God you have work," or "That's wonderful," or really anything positive, I get pissed. No. It's not wonderful, it's effing awful, actually.

But hey, if you're such a big damn fan of my "blessings," why don't you come over here and trade? I'll see you working 60 hours per week, juggling jobs, too busy to eat, trying desperately not to get sick, and trying to fit in GRE studying/PhD applying in the mix. Then you may come and tell me how wonderful YOU think it is.

And next year, when I may be able to update my 20-year-old car, that won't be a magical Godly blessing, either. That will be the end result of 12 months of 50+ hour work weeks, so keep your cheerfulness to your self, 'cause I'm too busy to buy that load of crap. My situation is shitty, and I'm crawling out of it by my fingernails and the skin of my teeth, so why don't you give ME some credit, instead?

Or just keep your opinions about MY LIFE to yourself. I'm tired of hearing how grateful I should be for this load of shit. I'm working through it and it's hard as hell; those types of comments just make me feel like shit.

On a more positive note (now that I've gotten that out of my system), I am excited about applying for PhD programs, though not too excited about the costs. Oh well. That's just how it goes. I'm particularly interested in the PhD program at Utah State University in Logan. AND the city seems really cool - they have a city-wide FREE bus system, which is paid for by local sales taxes. Awesome! And there's a local mid-singles ward, because the family ward is just not working for me. Last Sunday I was sitting on a pew and this family with 3 young boys sat in the row behind me. Yeah. They kicked the back of my bench the whole time. I kept giving them and the adults with them the stink-eye. Come to find out, they were the Bishop's kids. Yeah. I'm definitely making friends there...

Guest Post

Hey all-

I wrote a guest post on The Amazing Paige's blog about living and losing with PCOS. Let me know whatcha think.

http://sayingnotocookies.blogspot.com/2012/08/guest-post-this-is-how-andrea-has-lost.html

Thoughts on the Love Languages

I read the Love Languages book designed for singles a while ago. When I took the diagnostic at the end to see what my language was, I came up with an almost perfect 3-way tie. When I took it again some months later, I had a two-way tie. I've been thinking a lot lately about my relationships and whether I feel loved or appreciated and how I naturally show love and appreciation. To be honest, I feel like I show a lot, but I mostly don't feel like it's reciprocated, so I end up feeling hurt and used.

I'm fairly certain that my main love language for showing love is service and/or gifts. If you are my friend, I will do things for you. Lots of things. Inconvenient things. Things that cost me time and money. And I'm happy to do it, because it's for my friend.

It's rather a good thing that service isn't the language in which I receive love, because there's really only 1 person who shows his love for me that way. And because I show love that way too, I see it and understand it and reciprocate. But really, my receiving language is quality time. I've moved so many times - more than 2 dozen. So many people have come into and gone out of my life, and so I'm used to not seeing and not hearing from people and people regularly dropping out of my life.

Quality time. If I don't hear from you occasionally, if you don't want to hang out once in a while, it will follow for me that we are probably not friends anymore - that you don't want to spend time with me. I don't need tons, but to maintain any relationship, I do need something - a call to catch up, a sofa-surfing movie night, dinner. Something. Anything.

The worst for me is those that take my manifestations of love and give me nothing in return. I've always attracted those friends and boyfriends who would happily bask in my natural generosity - asking me to help with this and that, help moving, borrowing my books or DVDs, accepting invitations to dinners at my home - but who never do me the courtesy of a reciprocal offer or invitation. Those who only stop by to exchange one borrowed movie for another without extending the invitation to join them. Those who make plans with me one day and then drop off the face of the earth as the day for the plans approaches.

It makes me feel used. People take my time and effort and generosity, and then walk away with them. 

Dear Neighbors...

Dear Next-door Neighbors-
It was me. I reported your party to the police last night! And I'm NOT SORRY. Sure, when I was your age, I indulged in loud parties, too. But. Now I'm 30, and at 11:30pm, even on a weekend, I'd like to be able to sleep. I can not accomplish this when your guests are dancing in the streets and setting off fire crackers in the front lawn and when your music is so loud that I can make out the words from inside MY house.
So it was me. And I'll do it again.

Dear Other-half-of-house Neighbor-
Please, get a rug. You do NOT tread lightly. Also, I hate it when you sit in front of your door and smoke because it makes my whole house smell like cigarette smoke. I quit for a reason, and I'd like to keep it that way.

Dear Downstairs Neighbors-
The Saturday morning moaning is getting really old really fast. For the love, you share a house with other people. I have to see you at church. Keep it down, huh?

That's all. :)

Also...

I graduated. :D

I'm trying to keep my head above water with a series of part-time jobs while decided what to do for my future.  I'm confided that I'll go for a PhD.  I was initially planning on a PhD in Linguistics, but now I'm seriously considering Speech-Language Pathology.  There's a job market there, you know?

Whatcha think?

Pet Peeve #5487

Church book club.  The Relief Society ladies want to start a book club.  I'm not adverse to this idea, but I am wary.  I have no desire to read insipid church fiction or to spend my spare time reading the works of the GAs.  Yes, I admit it: I'm kind of a crappy Mormon.  I also hate casseroles, jello, and Mormon punch.

So, book club.  The ladies are organizing a first meeting, where a book will be chosen and tasteless treats will be served.  I both love and hate making treats for church things.  I love showing everyone else up with my awesome baking skills.  I hate being so much of a snob that my food is the only food I'll eat.  It's one of the injustices of life to be the only person with cooking skills within a 50-mile radius.  Everyone wants my recipes.  No.  If I give them to you, they won't be special anymore, and invariably you will bring MY DISH to an event that I am also attending, and then take full credit for its brilliance. Nope.  No can-do.  I will continue to be a stingy bitch.

But that isn't the pet peeve I'm meaning to write about.  Granted, that is one of them, but it's not the focus of this post.

The ladies are chatting on Facebook, decided where and when to meet, etc.  And then one lady asks if she can bring her 3 KIDS who are "pretty well behaved."  What the fuck.  I've been here long enough to know that "pretty well behaved" actually means demon monster.  Can we not have ONE effing activity for the freakin' grown-ups in the room?  ONE?!?!?

Dear Utah: Children do not belong everywhere.  It is not appropriate to take them to late-night movies.  Also, sometimes adults what to spend time with other adults.  Get a freakin' baby sitter.  Or, here's an idea..., give your kids to your GD husband for the night.  But don't inflict your 3 demon monsters on a room full of women trying to get away from THEIR kids for the night.

NOT. COOL.

Bad Foodie Confession.

I don't like things that are blood orange flavored.

I like blood oranges.  But food items which are blood orange flavored just taste (to me) like cheap orange sherbet.  Prettier, for sure.  But no tastier.  And I don't LIKE orange sherbet.