Call me maybe?

So today was a fantastic day. I was quite tired when I woke up, but only because I was up so late. I find it hard to go to a game and be so riled up only to come home and go to sleep. Anyway, made it into work with coffee in hand (judgmental boyfriend next to me, “we should really stop wasting so much money on these things!”) with time to prep for my 7:30a meeting. After that, the day was jam packed and that’s exactly how I like it.

A one piece of awesomeness: my project buddy, who up until this point has been driving this big project I’m working on, put in his two week notice last week. The timing isn’t great from a project standpoint- things are really ramping up and funding requests are due next week, etc. The timing is absolutely perfect from a “Kate needs more to do” standpoint.

Throughout this project I’ve gone in with the whole “I need to understand everything that is going on incase PB dies or something” mentality. Thankfully he didn’t die, he is just leaving the company. This means I get to step up and take over the project which I’m über excited for.

When I first found out he put in his notice last Thursday it took me so long to fall asleep. I was excited and jumping around and couldn’t wait to meet with my manager the next morning to discuss everything. I really see this as my opportunity to step up and demonstrate what I am capable of. The only thing that really stood in the way though was convincing my manager that I was the right person to take over. It made sense to me, but I know that I strive in an environment where I am thrown in and forced to swim. My manager has no reason to understand that about me yet.

Friday couldn’t have turned out any better had I written the script myself. I met with my manager and she was like “Kate, you are awesome, I need you on my team long-term and I’m excited to see you grow into this role” or something close to that ;). What this means though is that I am getting a promotion and I get to really drive this project through. Ahh! I’m so excited because it is awesome and fun and exciting.

At home now… just put together a turkey burger in an effort to give myself energy to clean. This was unsuccessful because it was really old and turned out disgusting. I looked on the box for like, 6 minutes to find the expiration date, but couldn’t find anything. So, I ate it anyway. The ketchup and vodka masked the freezer burn.

In the meantime, I’m putting together my menu for tomorrow. I invited some friends over for a couples dinner and there are some gluten free needs that I have to prepare for. My manager is gluten free and had I thought about this any earlier than right now I could have asked her for advice at work today. Alas, I found a website that should suffice. Now I just gotta drag my ass down the street to the new Lund’s (I’m assuming they are more likely to have gluten free rice-noodles than Target…)

As my last random-ass note, the title goes out to my grandma because I have been trying to get a hold of her for a hella long time. I need her social security number in order to sign us up for a white house tour for our D.C. trip in October. High five.

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Google Stock.

So, I’m going to buy some Google stock. And by “some” I mean “a.” Because, that’s all I can afford.

Joe thinks it’s a little silly to only buy one stock. While it may be, I think it’s totes worth it to be able to say that I am a Google stock holder. It brings me into a different realm, a realm that I really want to be in. Not sure where… or why… it may only be so at my interview with Google in 6 years I can say that I’m a longtime stock holder. Isn’t that a good enough reason though?

How does one going about buy a stock?

Dreams come true?

So Joe and I are at the Twins game. I keep asking him if I can let the little boy next to me have a sip of my beer. He keeps telling me “no” because apparently that is inappropriate because he is only six. However, the little guy keeps telling his dad “but I’m so thirsty! Can I just chew the ice cubes or something?” Seriously. He needs a sip.

Anyway, I didn’t do it because I hear that’s wrong. But the Twins game is hella fun because it’s the most beautiful night in the world. I got really excited at the first run (which, by the way, happened in the first inning!) and I may have hit Joe with too much excitement and that made him mad. I felt bad. Mad and bad rhyme! Hey-yo.

Hey, I just met you, but call me maybe….

This weekend someone was stabbed in the parking garage across the street, where Joe and I park the car. Joe had gone back to his old apartment on Saturday (while I went shopping!) so that he could clean it before he needs to clear out next weekend. When he got back to our place, around 9pm, he called me and said “what the hell is going on outside?!” I had just been sitting on the computer and had no idea, so I went to the window and saw a shit ton of cop cars. They had closed down the parking ramp so Joe and I were brainstorming where he should park. In the meantime though, I went down to creep a little on the commotion. I wasn’t getting any credible information from the other bystanders, so I realized I should just check twitter (ironically, after Bob Collins’ post on twitter as a news source). Police Clips posted that a man was shot in the lower level, so, that’s the story I went with when others walked by and asked.

Later, a homeless man walked by and said that a female had been raped and stabbed. Not only did this not match the story that I had heard, but it also sounded scarier. I decided that the man was just looking to make things worse and continued believing the story I first heard (which had the police radio as a reference). Once I met up with Joe, he told me his friend too had heard the rape/stab story. However, his friend was only a few blocks away so I was convinced that he too had heard that from the man.

Flash a few hours later and I’m still prowling the Police Clips feed like crazy. Joe and I both realize that this is going to be a dangerous addiction, but ultimately it was confirmed that it was a stabbing. I don’t know what it was about this, but it made it so much more… real maybe? Real, but also haunting in that I feel that, maybe only due to TV, being shot is a fast death. However, thinking of this girl lying in the stairwell, bleeding to death after possibly being raped and the fact that stabbing would hurt so much… it really scared me.

It didn’t help matter much that it so vividly matched my dreams. It’s always the long, drawn out pain that scares me. Joe asked me if I was scared at all and I said “no”, but when I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I was literally terrified that someone had broken into our apartment and was waiting to kill me from the shower while I was peeing.

It reminded me so much of when I was growing up. I couldn’t ever go up the stairs or really do anything in front of windows because I was scared someone would be standing outside, waiting for me to turn by back, only to shoot me. Flash back to reality, the next morning I was once again checking Police Clips. There was information about a home invasion in Brooklyn Center or something. In the comment section, someone commented about being scared for her family that lived in the same area. Another person commented back that “if you’re not a criminal related to another criminal I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” hmm. Well, I’m now neither of those things but for a long time I was. I’m so thankful to be out of that situation and no longer have the need to be scared for my life every night that I fall asleep.

I’ve gotten over the fear from Saturday night now. I remember that it probably wasn’t a random attack (or so say the police) and that I’m no longer in the same position of vulnerability that I was growing up. Plus, I have an awesomesauce boyfriend who really wouldn’t let anything happen to me (although I did poke him a little bit about maybe bulking up a bit more).

Day 5: Your definition of love

I don’t really want to write, but stupid make-believe obligations are forcing me too. I went to Snow White and the Huntsman today, and it was actually really good… but, it is almost midnight (and by almost midnight I mean 11pm) and I am exhausted. Alas, I am a blogger, and well, that means I must blog, or something like that.

This entry is a part of my 30 day character challenge and does not actually reflect who I am or the thoughts that I have. Please see the introductory blog post for more information. 

Love is always something that has eluded me. I see it in others, and I think about wanting it too, but I’m not sure I deserve it. I don’t know if I don’t deserve it because I can’t give it out, but if it is because I don’t even love myself. Stupid sappy movies say that one needs to love them self before the can love another, right? I’ve always had a strange liking to cliché sayings, so I guess this just makes sense.

But, love is putting others before the needs of yourself. I think the only way a person can truly give unconditional love it to a child, but I can’t even handle that so I pretty much fucked in the world of love.

Graphic Novels.

So right now I’m participating in the live twitterchat of The Bloggess‘s book club. Why is this relevant, you ask? Because she just referenced graphic novels, that’s why. What do graphic novels have to do with anything, you ask? Fancy you should ask, actually, because I have a funny story about graphic novels.

Back in college, I was at a party with a lot of people who already had jobs and I really wanted to impress them. So, when someone asked me if I read graphic novels I quickly agreed that I indeed did. For the entire conversation, I was under the impression that graphic novels meant, you know, books that are rather, graphic in nature. Think, Fifty Shades of Grey or something. It wasn’t until the next morning when I was discussing this with my best friend Drew that I realized the mistake I made. Oops!

Day 4: What you ate today

This entry is a part of my 30 day character challenge and does not actually reflect who I am or the thoughts that I have. Please see the introductory blog post for more information. 

What the hell kind of question is this? Why are you asking me what I ate today? I don’t fucking know. Maybe I had some coffee for breakfast, but shit, that isn’t eating. While I was going through town I stopped at the gas station and bought a deli sandwich… that tended to hold me over I suppose.

A terrifying statistic

So you know how you can read something and it just ignites this “holy crap” response? An article I just read states:

the United Nations estimates that 1 billion women will be raped and sexually brutalized this year

Can that even be accurate? 1 billion women? Thats between 1/4 and 1/3 of the female population of the world. That is absolutely insane. I need to do something.

Bad dreams

So I have really bad dreams. I’ve never really thought about it being something completely strange, it’s just always been a part of my life. They are worse after I eat ice cream at night, so I’ve learned to avoid that. Sometimes they put me in a funk for the next day… but other times I can just forget about them.

There are certain themes that seem to come up over and over. I’m trying to document these things more so my therapist can tell me what it means about me (read: what the fuck is wrong with me).

To begin, there is always some type of sexual predation. It is usually someone I know or some composition of a few. It isn’t just people that I’ve been intimiate with either, anyone that I’ve ever met has some likelihood of trying stuff when I’m asleep. And that’s how it usually starts. I’m fighting them off and I’m having a hard time making it stop, so I resort to brutal violence. I’m talking guns, knives, mace, etc. It is so bloody and gory and it doesn’t matter how many times I stab someone or remove a limb, they find a way to continue chasing and hurting me. I can literally shoot or stab someone 25 times in the chest and it doesn’t even phase them [kids, don’t try this at home]. I’ve manually gouged peoples’ eyes out and they are still able to track me down, them and their friends.

I’m usually trapped in their house, or they’ve taken over mine. Other times, I think I’m finally free and that I’ve found help only to find that everyone else is on their side and they start attacking me too.

In my dreams, I’m often unable to scream or even talk. I can never call for help, even though sometimes I am attempting to call Joe. Dream Joe is a jerk though, I’m not sure why I’d want him to help anyway.

Two nights ago things took a dark turn. As I’ve said before, I’m very easily influenced by society, pop culture in particular. Therefore, Call Me Maybe made an appearance. A parody of it though, because someone had just posted the “just ate bath salts, your face looks tasty” lyric on Facebook, and bam, someone is trying to eat my face.

It was a little bit more terrifying though. I had been at a restaurant, waiting for SD to finish dinner with another woman. I got sick of waiting so I fled, and while I was speeding away, my car crashing into the back of a money truck. Money was flying everywhere so people started grabbing it (myself included), when all of a sudden a nice journalist man wanted to interview me about how lucky I was to be there at the time and what I was going to do with all my money.

So I got into his car. And then he locked the door and it turned out he didn’t even know what news was and then he attempted to eat my face. At that point, SD swoops in to save me and in order to do so, he gave his own life (to the bath salts eating cannibal). So, somehow my dream allowed this creep to turn into the hero and then I woke up appreciating him because he let me live while his face got eaten. When really I just want him to leave me alone.

Like, a week ago, I actually had a dream that he (SD) was attacking me (raping, actually) and then when I woke up I legitimately had a text message from him (in real life!) even though it had been months since I’d heard from him. That’s called creepy.

Let’s all cross our fingers for a good night tonight :) Just kidding. I’m fine. This is supposed to not be a depressing post.. so… yay for dreams! Or… yay for my dreams not being real! Something like that…

Day 3: Your parents

This entry is a part of my 30 day character challenge and does not actually reflect who I am or the thoughts that I have. Please see the introductory blog post for more information. 

My parents are, well, your average set of parents. They are still together which I suppose ain’t too normal anymore. But they also always loved each other more than loved me or my sister. My mom is beautiful, but I wonder sometimes if I never really settled down with someone because I knew no one would ever meet her expectations. I can’t for the life of me think why though.

Anyway, they both live out of state and I go to see them every now and then. We talk a lot less now, which I suppose is good because nothing much is happening in my life and I don’t know what I would say to them. Only so many times you can say same old same old, right?

My guess is, when they die, they’ll leave everything to the cat. And that’s fine. I don’t want their friggen money and I suppose they damn well earned it anyway.

Day 2: Your first love

First, we have to laugh at me because I’m reheating pasta in a skillet and it just looks funny.

This entry is a part of my 30 day character challenge and does not actually reflect who I am or the thoughts that I have. Please see the introductory blog post for more information. 

Arg, my first love. It seems like it was just yesterday, but I know it was a long ass time ago. I was 9, she was 12 and hot. I liked that her boobs were coming in already because all the girls my age looked like boys with long hair. Chrissy, was her name. I followed her around town every day after school. First she would walk to the gas station where her dad worked. She would get some change from him and either go to the ice cream shop when it was hot, or settle for a piece of pie at the diner in the winter. On especially cold Fridays, she’d splurge and got a hot chocolate. I probably followed her around for a good year before her brother kicked the shit out me. I never did talk to her… I was a fuckin’ pussy at 9, that’s for sure.