Sick Girl’s Movie Review

I’ve had some weird sinus/tension headache this week which kept me locked in my home on Tuesday and Wednesday because I knew that there was no way I could muster the ability to work through it. When I’m out with whatever I’m out with, I tend to make a bum’s nest on the couch and watch a bunch of movies to pass the time between excessively long naps. On a side note utterly unrelated to the rest of this blog, I learned that I like f’ed up movies more than I thought. Apparently, I watched so many that there is now a “Dark Drug Movies” category that has popped up on our Xbox Live Netflix stream, which is of course based upon our (and by “our” I mean my) most recent selections. However, on Monday evening, I watched one of my favorite movies of all time because it is a comfort to me…my own personal DVD…no streaming Netflix necessary. The movie is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I pledged my undying love to this movie while the plot unfolded the very first time I saw it. I love the way it makes me feel, from beginning to end.

Warning: Spoiler Alert (because really if you haven’t seen a movie that came out five years ago then I can’t care whether I ruin it for you.)

It starts by depicting what was intended to be the end of a very tumultuous relationship. Clementine, being the impulsive girl that she is, decides to erase the relationship from her memory with the help from Lacuna Inc. Joel, after finding this out, decides to do the same as an act of retaliation. While they begin the process of erasing Clementine from Joel’s memory, my initial reaction is “Dear god, how the hell did these two people end up together in the first place? They clearly hate each other.”. But yet…something doesn’t seem right. For a moment, I think “It’s so sad how he loved her more than she loved him…how he was so hurt at the end of it all”. As the story progresses, I realize that’s not what I find so unsettling. The movie progresses and little by little I start to understand. It is revealed, one memory at a time, why they feel in love in the first place. He realizes the same thing that I realize at about the same time…that regardless of the fact that it wasn’t perfect he couldn’t lose those moments he cherished regardless of how much it hurt in the end. He realized, like I realized, that no matter how fucked up it can be, love is beautiful.

That is precisely when this became the most romantic movie I’ve ever seen, mostly because it is a tangible kind of romance that I can actually relate to. I hate the kind of romance that Hollywood normally sells. I don’t believe that any of them depict how ordinary people actually interact with one another. The stories always end on the top of the world, but I think anyone who has sustained a relationship for more than the span of two hours understands that this has literally no resemblance to real life. I don’t deal well with twisted realities. People are flawed and their flaws are what make them unique and beautiful.

When Joely and I watched this together, his initial reaction was pretty predictable…at least I thought it was because I know him so well. He was furious. He argued with me that every endearing thing that she said was a figment of Jim Carrey’s conscious when he is trying to stop the erasure from happening. Those moments in the movie that moved me the most…where they plotted together to figure out a place to hide her where the folks from Lacuna wouldn’t look, when they reflect upon past conversations that they had, when they ultimately realized that there was nothing that they could do and they try to make the best of the memories that Joel has left…those moments only served to irritate my dear hubby because “they didn’t really happen”. I, of course, chose to see it such that the viewer gets to imagine how it went down in Clementine’s head when she was losing all remnants of Joel. They don’t show you how they plotted in her mind, how they reflected and how desperately she wanted to keep him. It clearly happened because they were both ended up back in Montauk to find each other. Even if they were just finding each other to go through the same bullshit that they went through before, they were clearly lost without one another. They both knew something was missing, even though they couldn’t remember what it was. They found each other all over again. Ah, the perfect love story…in all of its gloriously flawed splendor.

If you think about how all of your relationships have touched you, changed you; you know that for better or for worse…you learn something from them. When you take that away, you take away a piece of who you are. You can focus on the aspects that disappoint you, but how often do you really sit down and focus on how fulfilling it is? I hope that if you’re married, focusing on the positive is commonplace even if it isn’t always easy. This being said, there is a difference in what makes it currently blissful and all of the things which brought you to where you are today. I can look back on the past 8 years with my Joel and I can recount many times when I thought we wouldn’t make it. However, the times when I felt like it was Joel and I against the world vastly outnumber the dark days. I think about what would have happened if I would have given up during one of the lows and how different my life would be now. I would have lost so much of what makes me strong and what makes me happy. I suppose that my point is that love should be cherished because in the end, it is an integral piece in making us who we are.

That is the feeling that the movie leaves me with; gratitude. It makes me thankful for every moment that I have had with Joel that has brought us to where we are today. That’s the kind of feeling every romantic movie should leave you with; that no matter what has happened or what will happen, every little thing is going to be alright.

The Cleaning Machine

When I walk Her Highness Princess Sophie Freckle-Belly around my neighborhood, I like to look into the windows of the houses that we pass (from the sidewalk of course, I’m not a sicko). Inside, the houses always look pristine; at least from where I’m standing. They are filled with beautiful things which I’m sure are dusted. The lawns are always perfectly manicured. I smell the smells wafting outside and I know someone is cooking a fabulous dinner. I ponder to myself…how the hell do they do it?

I have been grossly unproductive this week. I had a list (a whole page full) of things that I wanted to get done, but I did not make it through ONE of them. Joel informed me that I need to learn how to be okay with doing nothing and enjoying it. He told me that I put too much stress on myself and that sometimes I need to relax a little bit.

I suppose he’s right. I can’t unwind in my house if I know there is something that I “should” be doing. I’m such an odd mix of human…I love having a clean house and folded laundry and a tidy garage. I love the thought of having little to no clutter. I’m OCD about the way that things should look and where they should be and at what angle they should be there. The unsettling part of this psychosis is that most of the time I’m too lazy to actually do what it takes to make it so.

Maybe I’m not really “lazy”. Maybe I’m just lazy when compared to my overachiever of a mother. When I was growing up, you could at ANY given moment eat a sandwich off of the toilet in our house. I know that paints a disgusting image, but I’m not joking. That woman is a cleaning machine. The difference between us is that I’m the type that will sit down and make a list of what needs to be done. She’s the type that will just do it. She always says things to me like “I should have made you do your own laundry sooner.” or “I should have given you more chores around the house.” I think she feels as though she failed in raising the domestic goddess that she assumes all women should be. I’ve told her time and again that when I die I want to be able to look back on my life and reflect upon the books that I was able to read, the dinners I was able to make for my family and friends, the moments that I was able to have to myself with a glass of wine in my hand and a smile on my face.

However, I have come to the conclusion that I might have been lying to her. I want it all. I want to be a well-read corporate goddess with a clean house and a manicured yard and a well-behaved dog and a perfect little life full of dinner parties and wine and precious little pockets of time that belong only to me. I’m smart enough to know that most of these things don’t magically happen without investing time, but I keep thinking that it can’t possibly be that hard. I mean, here I sit with all of these people around me in my very neighborhood who manage to do it. What’s their secret?

I’ve pondered this quite a lot lately; maybe more than I should admit. I’ve come to some conclusions about how these people accomplish the semblance of “perfection”. Thus far, this is what I’ve come up with.

Conclusion #1: The women who live in these houses are business professionals such as myself that have husbands who are very much into helping them around the house, with the yard, with the laundry. These men do a variety of household tasks without being asked. They might do the cooking, they might do the cleaning; but whatever it is they are as invested in the idea of a pristine life as their wives are.
Rebuttal #1: I have my doubts that these men exist and if they do there is a very good chance that they are gay men who have married for the opportunity to have children. I realize that this is grossly sexist of me. Who knows…maybe there are relationships in which the women don’t really give a crap if the house is clean and they sit around and play video games while their husbands fret about the fact that the litter boxes haven’t been emptied. In my experience, this isn’t even a pipe dream…it’s an alternate reality. Regardless of whether I’m sexist or whether this conclusion is fact or fiction, I don’t have that kind of husband so the point is moot. Joely definitely helps me around the house, but he has his list of tasks that he always does every day without being asked and doesn’t go beyond that list. This is okay with me seeing as how we’ve grown leaps and bounds from the days when flies could congregate around our sink full of dirty dishes and he wouldn’t notice. He has been brilliant about stepping up and doing his share. However, he doesn’t have my OCD and I can’t expect him to adopt it just to be my slave boy. Although…wouldn’t that be nice? ;)

Conclusion #2: These women are stay-at-home moms/wives and having the perfect home is a part of their job description.
Rebuttal #2: This will never be me, so there is no point in entertaining the notion of how gloriously productive I could be if homemaking was my primary responsibility. I’m sure that once I have a child there will be nothing that I desire more than to spend every second making that child’s home life as perfect as I possibly can. I’ll want to be the mom who bakes pies and takes my kids to the park, then brings them home to take naps on clean sheets. I’m sure I’ll resent work. However, I’m going to have to concede to setting a different kind of example for my child. I’m not saying this is necessarily better or worse. It just is. I’m going to be the kind of mom who shows my child how to be a strong, confident business professional that people respect and enjoy working with; all the while being the woman who people call when the shit needs to get done; the woman who kicks ass and takes names in a way that somehow manages to leave everyone with a smile on their face. That’s my lot in life…unless of course by some miracle we win the lottery or Joely finally starts his own company like I’ve been trying to encourage him to do which is wildly successful and makes us millions. Either way, I’m going to go ahead and concede to the fact that I will never actually have keeping up my home as a full time job.

Conclusion #3: These people hire other people to clean their house, maintain their lawn, care for their children and/or cook their dinner.
Rebuttal #3: Maybe at some point I will have one of these options. Right now, it’s just not in the budget to hire people to do my dirty work. It should be noted though, that I think this is the most likely explanation to what I perceive as the “perfect little families with their perfect little lives” that surround me. There can’t possibly be any way that June Cleaver has been cloned this many times and that all of those clones flocked to reside in my neighborhood. It should also be noted that I wouldn’t actually want someone around to cook my dinners for me. I rather like cooking dinner. However, I would give my left nipple to have someone wash, dry, fold and put away all of my laundry on a regular basis*. Joel has actually offered to do this, but sadly I don’t trust him with all of my clothing. I have some expensive shit, yo.

Conclusion #4: These women are like my mother. They work like machines until there is nothing left to do. Sure, they stop for hugs and kisses. However, they are driven by some force of nature to perform their professional job, come home, clean, cook, clean, clean a little more, do some yard work, clean again and then collapse in exhaustion by 9:00 PM.
Rebuttal #4: No thank you.

Conclusion #5: These women buy decorative stickers to place in all of their windows to give the illusion of clean homes, while on the inside they live in filth, surrounded by a cloud of dust like PigPen from Charlie Brown. Their yards are all plastic plants and astro turf. They burn “delicious chicken and dumpling dinner” incense while feeding their families expired hot pockets with freezer burn. They rarely bathe.
Rebuttal #5: No rebuttal. This theory just plain delights the hell out of me.

I suppose in the end it doesn’t really matter how other people accomplish what they accomplish. It is about me prioritizing my life. Cleaning is not a priority, even though I desire its results. This means that I either need to reprioritize or I need to quit bitching about it. I do what I can. In fact, when I get in the mood I am a tyrant about cleaning. (Joel does not appreciate these moods.) So, maybe I make a more realistic list with smaller tasks. Maybe I set a different timeline for myself. Maybe I just take it tiny little pieces at a time and enjoy the fact that I pretty much rock, even though there are stray hairs on the floor of my bathroom. Maybe I just find a way to enjoy my space for what it is; until…of course…I know my mommy is coming for a visit.

*This is my least favorite chore, which my poor stepson learned the hard way. When he was here over the summer, he came into the kitchen one morning in somewhat of a huff. The conversation went a little something like this:
Riley: “Tiffany, I don’t have any clean underwear.”
(I put my coffee down, then looked at him.)
Tiffany: “Okay.”
(We stared at each other for a minute…he was clearly uncertain how to proceed.)
Tiffany: “Ri, I need you to do something for me.”
Riley: “Okay.”
Tiffany: “I need you to explain to me how this is my problem.”
Riley: “um…”
Tiffany: “You see, knowing how many pairs of clean underpants you have available to you is not my job. Your father also had to learn this the hard way. I hate doing laundry, I hate it the most, so I will wait until the last possible second until I have no other choice but to perform this dreary task. That last possible second is when I look into my own underwear pile and realize that I only have one clean pair left.”
Riley: “um…”
Tiffany: “How about this. How about you hold off on your shower and I show you how to do some laundry so you have some clean drawers to put on when you’re done? Because otherwise, I cannot guarantee that you will ever have clean drawers again.”
Riley: “Okay.”
It should be noted that I can’t honestly recall if Riley ever did any loads of laundry by himself after that. I think he was just better about telling me when the shit had to get done in advance. Either that or he formed an alliance with his father and Joel washed all of their dirty underpants. It’s hard to say.

I’m Doing Science and I’m Still Alive

Okay, I’m not really doing “science” but it’s a quote from a song so I’m working with what I have. I’m in love with my job but goddamned if I’m not sure it might kill me. After an 8:00 AM MONDAY MORNING MEETING I was stunned into silence with the sheer amount of shit that I have to do before the end of October.

I work a lot. Granted, I’m not one of those people who will work crazy hours and compromise my work life balance. *warning, she’s about to go on a tangent* Frankly I don’t think that is the sign of a good employee. I’ve never understood those people who say things like “I worked 80 hours this week” and wear it as a badge of honor. Really? You do understand that working 80 hours means that you either don’t know how to manage your work load, don’t know how to say no, or don’t know how to ask for help when you need it. None of those things make you an exemplary employee. They make you a red flag. I’m the first person who will admit that every once in a while some overtime is necessary, but I think people who make it commonplace are hiding from their life. Not to say there aren’t really great reasons to hide from your life, but for god’s sake don’t use it as some sort of selling point as to how awesome you are at your job. Mostly, it means you’re bad at your job. If you were good at your job, you’d know how to prioritize your work and manage your time. *she is stepping gently off the soap box now*

However, I don’t think that checking my email while my husband is subjecting me to one of his horrifically bad movies is really “working”. I check my Facebook, I check my gmail, I check my work email. That’s my routine. In the nighttime, my work email comes last but it is still something that I do. I work with a lot of folks in India and China and sometimes we can’t afford the 24 hour turn around waiting for a response. I don’t do it every night, but I do it most nights.

The fact of the matter is that I like it. I like that I’m doing some pretty crucial stuff for my company. With my new assignment, which will only really kick in next year, I’ll be doing it a lot…probably more so than I’m comfortable with. Sometimes I get a little conflicted with loving my work as much as I do. I feel like I should be doing something that would make more of a difference. If a person was really compelled to make a difference in someone else’s life through software, my company is where it’s at. However, at the end of the day it’s not like we’re saving lives. There are moments when I assess the level of stress of those around me. I consider how that is affecting me. I try not to let myself fall into the trap. It’s just documentation and processes and schedules and quality. It’s software. No one is going to die if it doesn’t get done. That doesn’t change the urgency of most of the issues at hand, but it helps me keep perspective on them.

I suppose a part of it might be my arrogance at how good I am at my job. However, I sort of feel like when your boss’s boss calls you and wants your approval and feedback on an email before it’s sent out, you’re at least in a pretty good space as far as your immediate team is concerned. I’m trying not to let the work that I’ve been doing over the past few months go to my head, but I feel like I’ve been elevated. I feel like my skills have been recognized and that I’m moving beyond the cast that I was put in. It’s been a struggle and I’ve been working my ass off for it, but I feel as though things are coming around. I couldn’t be happier about it. I probably couldn’t be busier but I’m not going to type that because I believe in karma.

All I know is that I really love being productive. I don’t know if I could ever be one of those women who become stay at home moms/ housewives. There is a certain appeal to it for sure. I would love being able to stay on top of my housework/home life. However, I would miss the fast paced corporate environment. I’d miss the rush. I’d miss the feeling of power that comes with knowing that I kicked ass and took names. Maybe I could achieve the same with a child that I was raising, but I don’t think it’s socially acceptable to say “I OWNED YOU IN THAT MEETING” to a toddler. Or maybe I’m just going to have the kind of toddler that is going to have to learn to deal with that shit.

Sophie Says Please

I'm in love with my basset hound. She is the light of my life, the apply of my eye, the cream in my coffee...well...you know the rest. ;)

Operation Cleanse

I remember very clearly a moment I had around two or so years ago. I got up on some random Saturday morning, made my coffee, fed my cats, put a load of laundry in and sat down on my couch with a book to enjoy my first cup of joe in those blissful hours that belonged only to me because my Rip Van Winkle of a husband very much enjoys his slumber. For some reason, I looked up and around my living room and this odd sensation overcame me. I got up and walked around and I actually looked at the things that surrounded me. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the knowledge that this was “our stuff”. Joel and I were adults. I was no longer living in my mom’s house. I didn’t have any homework or any rules to follow. I got to make the rules. I was really a grown up and I had a life’s worth of belongings to prove it. It was one of those moments when a person fully realizes that their life is now their responsibility I suppose. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just surreal.

I’ve always been a bit of a pack rat. Not insanely so, but enough so that I have more shit than most of the people I know. I think that if I were on my own I’d probably have just enough stuff surrounding me that it would make me slightly uncomfortable. However, along with my dear husband who is one of the most insane pack rats that I know, it’s gotten to a place where it feels downright gross; particularly since only half of it is under my direct control. I’m not the kind of woman who is just going to get rid of his stuff because I think he has too much of it, honestly because I guess I can’t really fault him. I mean, I love having pretty, sparkly things. I love having all of the cooking implements that I could ever possibly need. I love having a library of books that I can go back to. I really, really love having shoes. He really loves having every childhood memento that he never felt comfortable asking for when he was a boy. Both of us came from families that were not affluent and I think both of us became vengeance consumers to make up for what we felt was lost time.

However, I’ve been feeling the insatiable need to purge over the past month. I think primarily the fact that we are struggling with a bit of a debt makes these belongings represent years of irresponsible choices. I think I’ve finally gotten to a place where I’ve grown the fuck up and realized that it’s just stuff. This has made the thought of separating from it become easier and easier as time goes by. In fact, I feel as though I’ve gotten to a place where I need to get rid of it or I’ll drown beneath it. Every time I open a door, a cabinet, a drawer and see something that we haven’t used in over a year it disgusts me.

So, I’ve come up with a plan. I’m going to evaluate my belongings with a critical eye. If something has extreme sentimental value, I’ll keep it. If something serves a purpose in my life, I’ll keep it. If not, it goes. It gets sold on ebay or on craigslist, it goes to goodwill, or it goes to the dump. Either way, it has to be out of my life. I’m viewing it as the ultimate cleanse; not only to eliminate clutter but to free myself from the shackles of tangible things. I know it sounds new-agey and weird, but I feel like it’s something I need to do in order to regain some kind of emotional balance. I need to get to a place where I don’t feel besieged by my home.

And so in the next couple of weeks I will be going through my things one by one. I will be judge, jury and executioner. I’m hoping to set an example for Joel but if that’s not the way that it works then so be it. I’ll at the very least be doing my part to be comfortable in my space again. I just hope I’m up for making some of those tough types of decisions, you know the “I got this thing from someone three years ago and even though it’s been in a box since then I might need it so I shouldn’t throw it away, right?” kind of decisions. It may require wine and a lot of packing tape so that I can’t go in the next day and rethink my choices, but I have full confidence in my ability to do it. It will make things easier to clean, it will make it easier to breathe…it might even make it easier to justify a new pair of shoes. ;)

Salt and Pepper Shaker Couple, pt. II

(pt. I will come later)

Good Work Mojo

It is absolutely ridiculous that I’m blogging right now considering the amount of work that I have to do. I just figured that since I’m mostly reflective and angsty like the worst kind of emo kid on this blog I should sometimes talk about what is going well.

I think it might be the Sudafed, but I’m flying pretty high right now so I’m just going to go with it.

I’m pretty much head over heels in love with my job. I got a promotion a couple of months back. It wasn’t a change of title…yet…but it’s something that I’ve been working towards for a while. I have this huge assignment coming up. I’ve been busting my ass and it’s worked. I feel like George and Wheezy…I’m movin’ on up. It’s been busy enough up until this point, considering the fact that I work on ten projects and all. However, the role I play when wearing my “Localization Hat” is picking up which of course means meetings at odd hours. That means I’m going from “busy” to “crazy busy from potentially 7:00 AM to 8:00 PM on any given day”. (Not EVERY day mind you. I only have late night meetings scheduled on Tuesdays for example…for now.)

I am, however, having a good time. I’m enjoying what I do. It makes me feel invigorated. If you would have told me back when I was in high school that I would be elated to be a corporate whore I would have laughed in your face. It’s funny how one ends up catching what life throws at them. :-)

This is the part that makes me sad, although I promise not to go emo kid on you.

I already feel like there isn’t enough time in the day, the week or the month to do all of the personal real life stuff that I want to do. I suppose technically the time is there, but most week days I’m so mentally exhausted that thinking is hard enough to muster. Conversation is dang near impossible. I communicate ALL day as it one of my primary roles so by the time night time rolls around I just want to put on some PJs and snuggle with all of my favorite furry beasties (Joel obviously included). I don’t like not having time to see my friends. I don’t like trying to juggle my weekends to fit everything in. I don’t like sacrificing my housework for friend time because living in a dirty house drives me crazy, but I don’t like sacrificing friend time just to make sure my toilet is clean. Basically, it’s the kind of stress that I just don’t like to deal with and I’m going to have it for a few months and that is just the way it is. My plan is to maximize the quality time I have with people when I have it so that it can carry me through those nights when I am sitting on the couch staring at the television and drooling all over myself.

So folks…the Tiffany Show will be in town permanently but it’s selling out fast. Get your tickets now! If there aren’t any available, don’t fret; one will surely be available soon.