Doctor Anxiety

I haven't been to the doctor since circa 2007. And that was for a cough that lasted three months - or six - and wouldn't go away. I hadn't really been to the doctor for a check up for anything resembling an exam of any sort since I was approximately 16.

Mostly, I just hate doctors. They only schedule about 10 minutes with you, so if they find anything remotely wrong, you have to keep coming back again and again because they can't fix you in one sitting. Sometimes they are so bad at their jobs, they plug in your conditions to their more expensive version of WebMD, and tell you what you have based on the software's recommendation. And most the time, they are waiting for you to show up and diagnose yourself, so that they can write a prescription that treats the symptoms, without actually discovering the root of the problem.

Be that as it may, I had to go to the doctor yesterday. I was so anxious, that my blood pressure was super high the first time the nurse took the reading. (She came back a while later, and it had gone down, so it's hard to say if I really do have high blood pressure, or I was just really stressed about being at the doctor. I'm going with the latter.)

It wasn't that bad, though.

First, I weighed about six pounds less than I was expecting. Then, I filled out the form explaining the things that I wanted to have checked, and without actually looking at it (at first) the doctor mentioned those same things. I was happy that she seemed to be knowing what she was doing! Then, the doctor validated the way I have been taking my pills, so I was pleased with that.

I still had to wait for 20 minutes before I was seen. And then another 15 when I had to change into my "gown" - by the way, it does not take me that long to get undressed - and while 15 minutes doesn't seem like a long time, it is when you're sitting there undressed in an ugly hospital gown, waiting.

The actual exam took three minutes. And then she wrote out orders to have blood work done, and I was on my way. This is the first female doctor I've ever seen who I actually liked. Usually I hate women doctors. Although, I've hated the men doctors as well.... so never mind, see above paragraph.

This morning, I went and had four vials of blood extracted from my veins. It will take approximately four days to test for all sorts of hormone levels and other things, and then I'll be one step closer to understanding why my body hates me. Hopefully we can mend this relationship soon... because it's really starting to wear me thin.

Where's My Consolation Prize

We all have them.

Days where we are unfulfilled, dissatisfied and maybe a little confused as to where our lives are or are going. When we think, "I'm more than this." Or, "I want more than this."

It's weird to sit and watch people who are famous just for being famous, and not because they have talent. And yet, there they are, traveling the world, meeting glamorous people who actually are talented and spending money to their heart's content.

It's humbling to see others whose names are out in the world because they are making such a tremendous impact on the world. Through new policies or new inventions. By fighting for a cause and taking a stand against that which is wrong in our world.

And then there's me. Us. Those of us who live ordinary lives. We wake up, get ready for the day, drive to work, work - for eight, ten, twelve hours a day - maybe squeeze in a little time with family, spouses or roommates, and then go to bed in order to start all over again.

Of course, some of us live more ordinary lives than others. When talking to some friends about this feeling of living such a "small life", one of them made the comment:
 I feel like that too, and then I have to punch myself in the face and say, "just be glad you have a job, and it allows you do to do cool things and have a house."

I've been going back and forth all day, going over that comment over and over and over. Because, on the one hand, I am very grateful for my job. I've been very blessed this past year. I've done cool things. I went to Florida. I went to New York City. I went home a few times. I've been able to pay all of my bills. And buy new tires and brake lines for my car when necessary.

But on the other hand, I'm not really doing "cool things." And I'm definitely not doing the cool things I want to be doing. Like my friend, whose "cool things" almost certainly involve her travels around the world. I'm not closer to having a house. Or even, a living arrangement that I really want.  Like, being away from BYU housing and a house-full of girls.

I'm still in debt. And probably will be for the very least, the next three years (that isn't including paying back school loans), but that's only if something disastrous doesn't come my way - car, health, etc. - and I cut my spending to the bare - barer - essentials. 

I feel like as a 25-year old, that's single, I should be full of show-cased talent; I should be traveling the world and meeting new, awesome people. Basically, I should be having the time of my life. But instead, I'm living this: wake up, go to work, scrape by, pretend to have fun, go to sleep; repeat, mode. And I'm stuck because, while graduated, I'm not really qualified for more than the office work I am already doing. I can't afford to go to grad school and become a teacher like I am seriously contemplating doing. And I don't want to be in Provo anymore! But I'm too terrified and too clueless on how to get out.

The world is a scary place. And really, I don't know how the people who live in the spotlight do it. I don't want to live some anonymous life, but I don't envy having the camera in every intimate - and not-so-very-exciting - detail. So where do you go to find the balance? How do you escape this feeling of "smallness"?

I don't honestly have the answer. I keep thinking about how the answer in Church is always to go out and serve. It seems like any time you are afflicted with self-.... anything, you're counseled to step outside of yourself and help others. I don't know if that is really the answer. It seems like more of a distraction from the problem and not really a solution.

Attending a Singles Ward in the Morning

I have heard it said that a Singles Ward in the Church is the only organization whose purpose is to self-destruct. The purpose of such a place is to get everyone in it married off and into regular family wards. It is for this reason (among several others) that we can assume that members of these wards are out doing what they can on a Saturday night to achieve such a purpose, and might not make it back to their apartments until much, much later than normal.

It is for this reason, that I strongly believe that no singles ward should begin before 10:30 a.m. It just doesn't seem right to expect singles to "go forth and date", get in at midnight, and then wake up for early church, expecting them to be all there for the lessons.

But Saturday is the day you prepare for Sunday. I know some of you are thinking that, but I submit to you that for singles, Saturday is the day to prepare for FUTURE Sundays. Meaning, we are supposed to be out hanging with our friends and potential dates and dating, etc. So that one day, we might get married and have children to take to Sunday meetings.

It is then that we can appreciate 9:00 a.m. church meetings (or 8:00 or 8:30 a.m. depending on the area). Our children will likely be early risers, and church at any other time will cut into their nap time.

So until then, let those who benefit from early meetings, attend early meetings. And those of us, who may need a little extra push in the morning, attend later meetings.

Dear Harman Apartments

We've been having a bit of a problem at our apartments.

Our parking lots, sidewalks and street have become a death trap of ice and more ice. Four of us went around collecting signatures last night, and not a one of was made it back inside without having almost totally biffing it. Luckily, we were walking at a snail's pace and seem to be very balanced creatures.

Still.

It seems that our property management company cares more about our rent checks than actually providing a safe, comfortable place to live. As we walked around, several residents mentioned that they had talked to the manager - or at least the girl in the office, who guards the manager as if she were secret service and he were in protective custody - and they say that they are not obligated to remove snow.

REALLY?

I'm not sure how they can justify sitting back and doing nothing while their residents are getting stuck and defying injury or death, or property damage, and they aren't responsible to do anything? It completely boggles my mind that they think it is in their right to make us responsible for clearing whole parking lots, when they really just don't want to spend the money in maintaining anything.

I did a little research, which is indicated in the letter above, and found that legally they are supposed to. Hopefully the letter does something. I can't imagine that 32 signatures isn't enough to do something. Not only that, but those were just the ones home and awake at 10:00 p.m. If we had gone sooner, or spent another day collecting signatures, I know we could've gotten more.

Furthermore, not a single person thought this was a bad idea. We got a lot of "Thank Yous" for doing this. So there you go. I'm taking civil action to get this changed, and I hope it works.

I don't think I can handle another snowstorm, knowing that I'll be trapped and dealing with ice for weeks after.

Flirting with Verizon

Earlier in 2010, my sister texted me and asked me if she could use my phone upgrade. I was happily carrying around the Samsung Juke at the time, with no intention of switching and so I gave it to her, knowing that if something tragic happened, hers was coming up in the next six months or so. Then my mom lost her phone, and so she took Amy's upgrade, which was fine because I was still happily using my Juke....

.... until tragedy struck, and the center button broke, and I discovered that no one in the world likes the Juke but me, and they stopped making it and selling it and I was out of luck.

So, since July, I have been carrying not-so-happily, a cheap Verizon phone that I've hated with all my might.

That was to change this Christmas break. So I went to the Verizon store, looking to upgrade my phone. Finally! My mom's upgrade was ready for my use, and I was ready to take it. Only... they don't make phones like the Juke or the Motorola Slvr anymore, because everyone wants a QWERTY keyboard (why?) and a data plan (expensive!) and nifty other gadgets that I am either not interested in or can't afford. Sigh. When I told the first Verizon guy that, he laughed at me! He mocked my longing for my Samsung Juke, and expressed his disdain at the very idea of carrying around such an outdated phone.

I left the store empty handed.

But then, on Monday, I decided to try again and go to the little shack across from Kroger, that houses a Verizon "store." I walked in and of course, the shack is only manned by one person, and it was a guy.

A guy of my very particular type. Tall. Dark haired. Brown eyes. Beard. Stocky.

Also, easy-going, easy to talk to, funny, down to earth and smart (minus the whole smoking thing... smoking is NEVER smart. Just saying.) And he wasn't a pushy salesman, at all.

Huh. Who knew? Do those guys exist, anywhere in Troy?

I went in and told him my desire for a similar-like-Juke phone, and he did not mock me. But he did recommend a phone that so far has suited my needs, even if it has taken a bit of time to get used to. I had it picked out within 20 minutes (and yes, I suppose I should note that it is another phone that they no longer make, so if something happens...whatever).

Anyway, so while I was standing around waiting for my dad to text me information in order to authorize this whole thing, we talked. About BYU and Utah. About Mormons - lots about Mormons. He was talking about how we know what we are doing by using "sex appeal [on temple square]" because drawing in tourists by good looking girls is a very smart way to do business. Even if they are dressed super modestly.... I love it.

We also talked...

...about the fact that he's Jewish. (awesome)
...and gays.
...and school.
...and the economy.
...and sports - and how there aren't many LDS pro-players, but they're certainly no Jewish pro-players.
...and snow - and how I hate it and how he likes to ski and I do not.

And innuendo - like when he was transferring my pictures from my old phone to my new phone, and I asked him if he was looking at them, because he probably shouldn't just in case...

I liked that he asked me, "Can I be crude for a second?" And then decided not to. But then went ahead and asked anyway. (I didn't even know what he was talking about, which was funny in and of itself. You think you know everything about stuff like that, and then find out there is a whole-nother vocabulary list you've never heard.)

We determined that we were not dessert friends. (Um, anyone who just prefers vanilla ice cream and Twizzlers to cheesecake and Cold Stone....uh, false.)

And...and... and....

After an hour, we were still talking.

And then I left.

He should have given me his number. I should try to come up with a reason to call the shack, and ask him a question and then tell me to text me the answer. But I never know what to do in those situations! And it always takes me forever after the fact, to do anything about it. It's such a foreign concept to me.

But then, it doesn't really matter, does it? Because he lives across the country in a place where I only visit 2-3 times a year. Oh well. It was fun when it happened. And why is it that stuff like that always happens when I am not feeling cute at all? I had let my hair air dry. I had minimalistic make-up on. I was wearing my big, ugly coat. I did have cute shoes on, though. But I doubt that he even saw those...

No wait, he did...because he commented on me not wearing socks. And that was the last thing he said to me before I tripped out the doorway (smooth...I know) after having forgotten my keys on the counter. (Neat.)