I Have a Weekend!

So after maybe a year and a half of not having a weekend, I finally have a weekend.  I am so excited, words can not describe.

Here’s how it happened…

So this week at the Bakery, I tried to talk to my manager again about how I was feeling.  And again he ignored me.  And again I left work well past my scheduled available time and was subsequently late getting to the Grill again.  At that point, I had no feelings.  I had spent my last feeling toward the Bakery being so angry that I started sobbing incoherently.  I didn’t eat that day.  The next day, I still had no feelings.

Today I came in and the manager wanted to talk to me.  Again he ignored my feelings and simply told me to take the weekend and we would discuss on Monday.

Now, as a sorority woman and a great pioneer of social mathematics, I am fully aware of what the veiled “We’ll talk monday” means.  Something’s about to go down, to say the least.

But, I have a weekend!  I am going to plan lunches and drink and sleep and clean and get all sorts of things done!  The possibilities are endless!!

The Law of Musings

So I mentioned on Sunday that I almost checked off two bucket list items last month:

1.  Visit at least four new states

and

23.  Go to an away game that the alma mater wins.

I never did tell you about that, so let me go forward with it.  I’ll start with a recap.

On March tenth, the alma mater won the first Pac 12 championship game in a four-day four-win blowout and effectively punched their own ticket to the NCAA tournament.  There was no need to worry about the snubbing of last year, they simply had to wait to find out their seed.

And they were rewarded with an eleven seed.  Where was their game to be held?  Albuquerque, New Mexico, a mere seven hours from Denver.

Their game was on Thursday, which I also had off from work.  I mentioned how cool that was and Larissa mused that we go.

And then it was a perfect storm.  A friend of mine had two extra tickets, they cut shifts for Friday and I no longer had to work, Larissa put in a shift change request.  Everything fell into place.

The Law of Musings states that assuming all parties to a musing are available, the original musing must be followed through on.

It seemed as though we were going to New Mexico to tick a state off the list this year.

But then Larissa couldn’t get off work and my friend found someone else to give the tickets to.  So I didn’t end up getting to go.

But the alma mater did win.  So if I could have gone, it would have been just perfect.

You’re Only Allotted Two Sports Cries!

So as you know, the alma mater is dancing (or you would if my schedule function had been working, more on that in a separate post in a moment) and I am ecstatic.  Truly, truly ecstatic.  So I want to talk about my reaction to this news on Saturday when we won the first ever Pac-12 championship in men’s basketball.  (Yes, yes, there were Pac-8 and Pac-10 versions before this and it’s basically the same conference, but we were predicted to be eleventh, okay?)

So I spent the end of the game watching it through my fingers.  Kind of the same way that watching a horror movie through your fingers makes it less scary, watching a nail-biter of a sporting event through your fingers prevents heart attacks.  This is clearly proven!  Well, when the game ended with us winning by two points, a raucous cheer went up from the crowd and we all stood up and screamed.  I jumped up and down.  And then…  I started crying.  I wasn’t sobbing, but I teared up quite a bit.  I was with Cam, Steph’s boyfriend, and some his friends.  They didn’t say a thing, and opted to continue the celebrating again.

This morning, I was talking about it with a co-worker.  I asked how many sports cries someone was allotted.  His response: “You’re a woman.  You’re allowed to get as irrational as you like, we’ve kind of come to expect it.”

Sexism aside, “Okay, so how many sports cries is a man allowed?”

“Two.  One when your team loses a season that was especially important.  And the other when your team wins a season that was especially important.”

“So is that two per sport then?”  (A reference to the law “you can like any number of teams, but you’re only allowed to be a fan of one.”)

“No.  Two.”

“So you really have to save those then?”

“So most men never use them.”

“But what if you use it up and then something more important happens?”

“You stand by your earlier cry.  ‘That was bad, but not nearly as bad as that time that’…”

“What about that LSU-Alabama game during the regular season?”

“You can’t cry during the regular season.”

I asked a few more examples like if Kentucky won the NCAA tournament, would that be worth crying over?  No, because they wouldn’t have had to fight and claw to get there.  How about if the alma mater won?  My co-worker said no, but conceded that he wasn’t a fan of college sports after I recounted our road to the tournament this year.

So, anyway, guys are interesting, right? (This reminded me of the Miller Lite Man Law commercials, and I referenced one earlier up there.)  I’m a big fan of being able to cry because I’m so darn happy.  I also cried on Saturday because I reached the opposite end of the spectrum in one night.  But, these things will have to wait until after I get my March Madness musings out of the way (and if you remember last year, you know it will take a while).  But, I will probably have a usual personal post up tomorrow, so hopefully then?

A Word on February

Sorry I have been inattentive!  I feel just terrible!  Admittedly, I have few good excuses, for most of February.  Last week was a personal level of low that I hope not to reach again this year, and, thankfully, a good chunk of it had simply to do with it being February.

This is a week later, so I assume it won’t upset people in its brashness.

First off, I hate February.  February may be my least favorite month.  First of all, it’s only twenty-eight days (twenty-nine this year, and I am dreading that) and a bit of a joke, really.  If a couple of thirty-one day months were turned into thirty day months, then every month could be thirty days, but I digress.  Even though March is our snowiest month here, I don’t think I would want two more guaranteed days of winter.

Which brings me to the next reason I hate February.  Groundhog’s Day.  Why is this still recognized as a “holiday”?  Does anyone not notice that whether or not the groundhog sees his shadow, there’s still six more weeks until the vernal equinox?  Therefore, there is still six more weeks of winter.  What a joke holiday.

Next, Valentine’s Day.  If you’ve been here long enough, you know I love the idea of love.  I love everyone in my life and I love being cared for right back.  This is why I send cards, try to see everyone once a month, sit with my brides for hours tying ribbons (this was during the great computer incident of 2011, so I may have to back track and tell you about that eventually), call AAA for Rich, and any other numerous things I do.  I love love.

But I hate Valentine’s Day.

First , it is a day I hold in personal contempt for being the anniversary of my parents’ divorce.  So past age eight, I only really celebrated it because it made other people happy (see: I love love, above).

And other than that, who is Valentine’s Day good for exactly?  No one I can think of.

First, single people.  The amount of “woe is me, I am single” on Valentine’s Day is ridiculous!  You were single on February thirteenth and you’re going to be single on February fifteenth (most likely), so why whine about it on this day?  If people aren’t throwing Valentine’s Day in your face (so, yes, get off facebook if you know it’s going to bug you), you won’t even think about it.  I celebrated tuesday this year, because tuesday is awesome.  Lilac also pointed out to me yesterday that you can get half price chocolate on the fifteenth, so if you want to splurge on candy, you can do it at half price.

Second, people who have only been seeing each other a short time.  Deidree and Rich?  We didn’t do anything on Valentine’s Day.  And guess what?  I didn’t really care (see: I hate Valentine’s Day, above).  I did care a little bit that it made Rich get weird and mildly avoid me for the day before, that day, and the day afterward, which was annoying.  In fact, I texted him that evening and said we should get together  because I had wednesday off and maybe catch a Purdue game (I don’t follow Big 10 basketball closely enough to know when the games are, but the alma mater’s game was not until Saturday, so may as well support his team if they had one, right?)  He said he couldn’t, so I drank margaritas with friends instead.

And the cruddy thing about this situation is that if you do care about Valentine’s Day (which is most people), then you are extremely disappointed that the guy didn’t do anything.  And if you’re the guy, you probably don’t want to do anything, but you know that most people care, so you either do something (and hate yourself for succumbing to doing something you didn’t want to do) or, like Rich, you avoid the subject and hope it doesn’t come up (and likely deal with the consequences later).  There should be some sort of unwritten rule that if you’re in this situation, one of two things can happen.

One, the guy can ask his girl “So Valentine’s Day?  I don’t really want to do anything…  We can order a pizza and watch Netflix if you really want.”  (or something like that)  And the girl is simply allowed to respond “Okay” or “No, I don’t like that, but I’ll take us out to dinner.”  If you’re the one who wants to do something that badly, you should plan it.  Simple.  Don’t force it on other people, or give them the silent treatment because they actually told you they didn’t want to do something.  Value the honesty.

Two, the girl can ask her guy “So, Valentine’s Day?”  But if he says “I don’t really want to do anything.”  She can either offer the “Want to order pizza and watch Netflix?” option or the “I want to do something, I’ll treat you to dinner” option.

End of discussion.  Isn’t spending time with the person what’s supposed to be important, and not the theatrics associated with the day?

Which brings me to my next point.

Third, long-term couples (married or otherwise).  Why?  Why is so much pressure put on this day?  Why must guys buy two dozen roses and scramble to get a reservation to an over-priced restaurant?  Why can’t you do that on June twelfth or something?  Why can’t you make breakfast for the person you love on some random Thursday in October?  Why can’t you bring a rose (or a sunflower) home with you just because you saw it at the grocery store when you went to pick up milk?  Aren’t you generally supposed to love people three hundred and sixty-five days a year? (three hundred and sixty-six this year, screw you, February)  Why worry about it excessively on this one day of the year because people tell you to?  It’s ridiculous.

And the next reason I hate February, you knew it was coming.

Why the heck are there leap years?  I know, I know, the earth’s rotation doesn’t take exactly three hundred and sixty-five days, it takes three hundred sixty-five and a quarter days, blah blah blah blah blah.  Why did we add that extra day to February?  Because it was a short month and we felt bad for it?  Ridiculous.  I’d much rather celebrate June thirty-first or July thirty-second every four years than have to deal with one more day in February.  I love June, I love July.  February can just end already.

And yes, Mardi Gras was its saving grace this year, but Mardi Gras isn’t always in February (last year it was March eighth), so February can’t even depend on that to make it enjoyable.

And I know you’re probably wondering where this rant was last year, and so I looked at February 2011.  It was there, just in small doses interspersed between the Montreal story and the start of the yearly bucket list.  And this year, I have been bad about keeping you all updated on things, so I decided you needed a long post.

So here’s to March!  You’re only a week away.

More Thoughts About Boyfriends

So it’s been a while since I discussed social mathematics.  Let’s talk about them again.

Have you ever noticed that the more boyfriends you have, the more boyfriends people think you need?

That’s not quite what I meant, but you kind of see the point I’m trying to make, I hope.

Let’s say you have a boyfriend, named Bobby Joe (he’s from Kentucky or something like that, because I just gave him two names).  You really like Bobby Joe, but because you really like Bobby Joe, Michael and Tom think you should definitely date them.

And then there’s random guys in bars.

And random guys you meet at work.

And everyone everywhere thinks that even though you’re perfectly happy with Bobby Joe that they are a better choice for you.  And you politely decline them because you’re perfectly happy with Bobby Joe, and why can’t they see that?

But maybe things with Bobby Joe go downhill, and you had Michael or Tom’s numbers and decided to give them a call.  You suggest hanging out, but  they’re busy and they want nothing to do with you…

And the random guys in bars stop hitting on you.

And so do the random guys at work.

Suddenly, you’re no longer dating Bobby Joe and all the perfectly suitable guys go away.

What is up with this?

Really, I haven’t the slightest idea.

It happened with Evan, old Brody, and Shawn.  And every time afterward, I was at a loss…  If any men stumble across this and could let me know, I would really appreciate it.

You’re Cute…

So, I mentioned yesterday that it’s often really easy to tell when a business man is smitten with you.  I want to give you two examples.

First, you may remember me once saying that Evan is a self-admitted overly sarcastic jerk.  You may also remember me once telling a story about when we went clubbing.  Let’s look at part of that story again.

 

As we were leaving Blake’s apartment, there was a cascading water sound outside.  I had taken the time to curl my hair and was wearing an adorable sundress, which Evan had told me wasn’t very proper clubbing attire, but I was adorable, so I didn’t really care.

I put my hands over my head and then grabbed on to Evan with one of them instead.  “Oh no!  It’s raining outside!  My hair and dress will get all wet!  And my dress is white!”

By the time I finished talking, we were already outside.

“Are you covered in water?”  Evan asked me.

“No…”

“Then it’s not raining.”

“It’s actually a fountain,” Bree commented, but only after I had already sounded like an idiot.

 

Now, reread that story, but imagine Evan’s face with a smile.  I know you probably originally imagined it with a smirk, but it’s less a smirk and more a genuine smile.  It’s a strange emotion, being sarcastic, but forgiving…

 

And, now let’s look at Shawn, who makes the emotion easier to put into words.  We’ve had plenty of conversations that end the same way, but this one sticks out in my mind as the perfect instance.  I don’t know if it’s going into the Montreal story or not eventually, but it’s from the drive back into upstate New York.

I’ve admitted many times that I am extremely guilty of rambling.  So much so, that I often speak before I think.  Well, that’s not quite right.  Rather, I think so much that I get really excited and want to get it all out, only to not fully process whatever I’m thinking about.  I’d call it word vomit, but it’s really not the same thing.  I often legitimately puzzle things out by talking through them.

Anyway, we pass a road sign that says “however many miles to Mexico.”

“There’s a road sign to Mexico.  Why is there a road sign to Mexico in upstate New York?  It seems a bit far for anyone to really care how long it takes to get to Mexico.  A road sign to Mexico in Texas, that makes sense, because Mexico is near Texas.  But this doesn’t make any sense at all.”

Shawn adjusted the radio a bit for the Eagles game and continued to let me ramble.

“Is there actually a highway that goes all the way to Mexico from New York?  I don’t think there is.  I can’t see Mexico as being a top destination from New York by car.  It would be easier to fly.”  (To answer the question you’re probably wondering, and may or may not have put into google, you can drive from New York to Mexico, but there’s not one straight through highway.)

“It would be easier to fly to Montreal too.  Next time we go, screw this five hour car trip.  I’m just going to the airport.”

“But the liquid restrictions…”

“I know, I know, shampoo is expensive in Montreal…  Tell you what, I don’t need anything, so we can share your liquids, okay?”

“Okay…  But really, a highway from Mexico to New York?  It just doesn’t make any sense.  Also the mileage was kind of low…  Like too low for a long drive from New York…  That doesn’t make any sense.  It’s not like there’s a transportl…”

(I know you were waiting for the surround sound, so here it is.)

“There’s a Mexico, New York, isn’t there?”  “It’s Mexico, New York, Deidree.”

That’s when I turned to Shawn as a big smile spread across his face.  He uttered the familiar phrase “You’re cute.”

Of course, that was when I shook my head and said “Wow, that sounds kind of dumb now that I’ve really thought about it.”

Shawn just laughed.

I don’t know if you can picture the face, but it really is a genuine smile.  “You’re cute” basically translates into “You’ve said something pretty dumb again, but it was really adorable.  I like you enough that I’m going to look past this.”

So, Evan and Shawn had pretty much the same reactions to my inane ramblings.  So, my point stands, you can tell when business men like you.  Or, at the very least, you can tell when business men like me.

This Intimidating Lady

So I was out for Saint Patrick’s Day with Blake  and Seth, because everyone else decided they couldn’t possibly go out on a Thursday.  Not even for Saint Patrick’s Day…  When did I become the alcoholic in the group?  I need everyone I hung out with in college back.  Steph would have come, but she was at Cam’s father’s wedding.  I’ll gloss over the fact that planning your wedding on Saint Patrick’s Day (especially when it’s not your first and it’s a Thursday) is a bit weird, and simply state that she’s forgiven because it was a more important commitment.

Anyway, later in the night, Seth and I met up with my friend (through Larissa) Dezi.  He was in a much bigger group than mine, but I don’t know if the bigger group really matters.  Blake had gone home to sleep at this point.  He was almost to the point of everyone else, but at least he came out.

So, while Seth and I were hanging out with Dezi and friends, Dezi, some of his male friends, and I were talking about March Madness.  All men…  and I…

I was talking a while ago about Larissa’s flirting habits and I mentioned that all I have as a manly interest is college football.  That’s not quite right as you’ve now heard me go on and on and on about March Madness.

I love college sports.

I love them with so much devotion and support even if the teams I like aren’t the most nationally recognized ones.  College sports are about unwavering fandom.  Fair weather fandom is for the truly uninvested.

So you can imagine my surprise when one of Dezi’s friends interrupted our March Madness discussion with “Well, this is intimidating.”

Dezi and I both stared at him, so he elaborated, “The person most vocal about the tournament is a pretty girl.  It’s intimidating.”

This is where it gets confusing to me.

Larissa’s manly interests, which are often portrayed as exaggerated lies, are seen as cool or hot.  Her exaggerations attract men to her.

Meanwhile my very real and legitimate love of college football, well all sports, but mostly college football is either ignored or brushed off.  Something I never lie about seems to turn men off.

Does it have nothing to do with being a turn off?  Is it really just intimidating?

I don’t think I’m intimidating at all (or not any more than a girl who claims to wield a gun, drive a cool car, and play a mean game of Halo all while drinking beer and all in one day).

I have a lot of faults.  Like my incessant rambling.  Or my perpetual state of being five to fifteen minutes late because I want to look absolutely amazing.  Or my overly emotive hand gestures that knock drinks over.  Not to mention all of my “grass is greener” insecurities.  And I could go on and on and on about these things.  And this doesn’t even get into the weird stuff, like my need to step on planes left foot first.

My point here is, I’m not intimidating.  I’m normal.  Just plain ordinary normal.

So if men find me intimidating, here is what I want to say to them.

Dear men,

I am not intimidating at all.  Here’s why:

I have to step on planes left foot first to conquer my crippling fear of crashing.  I ramble more than anyone you have ever met.  If I tell you I have a story, you better have at least twenty minutes to devote to it (more if it’s a long story).  Sometimes I think way too much before I process everything I want to say and I want to get it out, so I just start blabbering on, only to realize ten minutes later that there’s a Mexico, New York.  I like college  sports.  My favorite music also includes bubblegum pop from the nineties.  I like to play tennis and go running; I’m also not very talented at either.  I have a bad habit of running late, overestimating available time, and underestimating arrival time.  I over pack for everything.  I will borrow your clothes and you may never see them again; you’ll have to prepare for that.  Sometimes, I wake up looking like a raccoon in the mornings.  I love cheesy things like mini golf and bowling.  When something is really, truly funny, I will laugh about it for twenty minutes… at least.  I expect people to keep their plans, or have a good reason for canceling/rescheduling.  If different parties’ adjustments to these plans conflict, I will go out of my way to make it convenient for everyone (even at an inconvenience to myself).  I want to travel the world, but I don’t really have the time or money right now.  And I’m secretly (or maybe outwardly) terrified of ending up all alone because all my friends are getting married…

So as you can see, even though this is a short list of my quirks, it’s a notable one.  And one that proves I’m hardly intimidating.

I’m one of the friendliest people you will ever meet, so just walk up to me.  You’ll at least enjoy talking to me.

And you finding me intimidating hurts me more than it hurts you.  You probably have no idea…

Work on that.

Sincerely, Deidree

How Boyfriends Encourage Growth

Welcome back to Social Mathematics here at Help! I’m Post-Grad!  Today is part one in a multi-part study on boyfriends.  I have at least three sub-topics so far, but I could probably prattle on and on about boyfriends…  So, I’m calling it a “multi-part” study, even though it won’t have too many parts at the moment.

Today’s section is:

How Boyfriends Encourage Growth

Otherwise known as What I’ve Learned from My Ex-Boyfriends that Has Made Me a  Better Person, Or Not.

Here is a Venn diagram about boyfriends:

Boyfriends give off both a positive influence and a negative influence, the point where they intersect is the change you experience as a person (this could probably be said of girlfriends too).  Every person anyone interacts with causes a change in their person, so obviously the people closest to us produce the most change.  I guess I could also call this post “What I’ve learned from my friends that has made me a better person, or not” too….

But this isn’t only about me, this is about boyfriends in general.

The ideal relationship goes something like this.  Girl meets boy, boy and girl fall in love and become a partnership.  Both girl and boy are able to coexist in positivity.  They take the base of their personality and build upon the best elements.

In contrast, an unideal relationship is the same, except there may or may not be a partnership.  Girl and boy may or may not coexist in positivity.  They might not build upon the best elements, instead, a majority of growth is on the worst elements.  Things probably do, or should, end in shambles.

But usually, things are neither ideal or unideal; they just are.  So people equally build upon their best, worst, and mid-spectrum personality elements.

Let’s look at a few boyfriend examples.

We’ll start with Evan.

I’ve said many times that Evan is the biggest sarcastic ass I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  The funny thing about that statement is that it’s self-proclaimed.  People tended to meet him and think as much, but they were always caught off guard in his sincerity about it.

To survive dating Evan, you must have a thick skin and be able to dish out what you take.  Evan prepared me to deal with all the sarcastic people I would meet in my life.  In fact, I even perfected my sarcasm to my own person.

I wouldn’t say this is an ideal quality necessarily, but it illustrates my point.  I never became a “sarcastic ass,” but I took his sarcasm and incorporated it into my own demeanor.  I like to think of it as “anti shit” armor.  Which is definitely something I would consider a good thing.  I take no “shit,” can dole out anything given to me in kind, and it comes with that handy BS meter I mentioned once.

So even though this isn’t necessarily a positive thing, though it can be, I would consider it positive growth because it is growth without compromise of self.

 

Let’s look at another example.

I talk about old Brody sometimes on here.  He doesn’t have a tag, but he probably should…  I might retroactively add one.  Anyway, old Brody ended our relationship with the classic “ignore you away” technique.

That’s not what’s important though, what is important is the result from it that I experienced: increased paranoia.

I’ll give you a visual representation:

What I forgot to include was my paranoia levels now, but I think they’re back around my normal…  Not a normal person’s normal by any means, but at least my normal.

So, in this case, this is an example of negative growth.  See?  It’s fascinating, I know.

 

 

The last case I want to mention is Larissa.  It’s complicated at best, but she will change and regress based on her boyfriends.  I call it the “Boyfriend, No Boyfriend” paradox.  Sometimes people lose themselves in relationships and never get back to who they were, or who they want to be.  Thus, they end up in a continual loop where they change and unchange and change in a completely new way over and over again.  It kind of looks like this:

I think this is probably the worst case scenario to get in when discussing boyfriends and growth.  Because yes, you should grow together, but you really can’t be part of a relationship unless you really know who you are.

Anyway, this is a sort of serious look at this subject with a kind of weary ending…  Next time, let’s discuss the number of potential boyfriends one has in relation to the number of actual boyfriends one has.  Funny stuff there.

A Thought About Something That’s Both Awesome and Terrifying

Sometimes I look up things on Craigslist…  I don’t spend an unnatural, or even regular, amount of time on it by any means, but it’s fun to look at sometimes.

Like Missed Connections?  Missed Connections is awesome(ly hilarious? Sometimes…) and I always secretly hope one will be about me (it won’t).  Also I like to look at the furniture and cars on sale because someday…  Someday I will need new furniture and a car…  Well, a car sooner rather than later.

So I was looking at jobs on Craigslist.  I don’t really take 70% of them seriously, but there’s always a few that sound cool, but don’t work in my schedule.

This time, though, I found an advertisement for egg donation.

Would I like to make $7000?  Absolutely.  That’s awesome.

Would I like to donate my eggs?  Well, therein lies the terrifying (and tricky) part.

Will donating eggs now really decrease my chances of getting pregnant later?  Well, I’m not planning on getting pregnant any time soon and I’m pretty sure they take the eggs I lose every month anyway, right?  I guess it depends on if they’re harvesting my future eggs or not, I suppose…

Would I like to have an invasive surgery?  No, not really.  Not at all, actually.  I am terrified of doctors and dentists and everything.  I go to the dentist every six months, though.  I avoid doctors like the plague.  I hate being sick.  I hate being poked and prodded.  I really hate surgery (really, really hate it–if you’re new here, you missed me complaining about that back in August/September…  Yeah, Keith suggested I make this blog to stave off boredom, which it has done since then, thankfully).  Doctors are terrifying.  Unnecessary surgery seems terrifyingly ridiculous.

So, do I want to get paid to have surgery?  It’s better than paying for surgery, but still, probably not.

But I do like the prospect of $7000.

Realistically, though, I’m probably fifteen pounds lighter for my height than any company would like.  And, also realistically, suddenly gaining fifteen pounds isn’t healthy for me (vanity aside).  So this is probably a moot thing to call awesome and/or terrifying.

I sent this to Bree and Steph, and I still think it’s true:  “Being a sperm donor must be so fricken easy.”  (You probably make a lot less, I have no idea, but there is no surgery involved which is a-okay with me.)

 

As an aside, since today is Thursday, go check out Diary of a Woo Girl where a restaurant review is posted.  Woo!

A secondary aside, do you like my use of “fricken” up there?  I don’t know if you’ve all noticed, but I don’t really swear unless I am very angry.  I know you’re probably thinking “but in the Montreal story, you swear all the time!!” And you’re right, to an extent.  But that’s usually a quote (such as Shawn’s swearing when he burned his hand) or the appropriate way to describe something (the game “fuck the dealer” or the term “gave him shit”, for instance).  Anyway, thought you all would enjoy that aside.

As for blogging, I’ve been working on content for a post about Mardi Gras costumes (you knew it was coming) as well as a new Social Mathematics post about boyfriends.  Hooray!

Counterproductive Success

I like to talk about social quotients and social laws of proportionality sometimes here at Help!   I’m Post-Grad.  I haven’t thought of a good name for these as a whole…  But maybe something like “social mathematics” would be an appropriate term?  Social statistics?  I don’t really ever go into stats for anyone, so I don’t know if statistics are an apt description.  I think social mathematics is a good way to describes these things.

Anyway, today is another social mathematics day.  We’ll be discussing counterproductive success.

Steph is the perfect example of counterproductive success.  At any given time in her life, she is unable to be successful on all fronts.  She either is successful in her academic/professional life or she is successful in her personal life.

Steph is very focused on school and career, but during the last few months of 2010, she was in Arizona with Cam.  Now that she’s back in grad school at the alma mater, she is now a good sixteen hour drive from Cam.  This is a bigger picture version, but small things happen in similar instances.  Such as when she was applying for grad schools, she and Cam had a huge fight.  Things like this happen all the time.  I’m curious,  but terrified, to see what happens when Cam eventually proposes…  It’s the way the universe seems to work in this case.

Bree has a similar version of counterproductive success

I don’t really fall under counterproductive success scales, unfortunately.  I don’t know what it is about me, but I’m pretty much an all or nothing kind of girl.  Either everything is amazing or everything is horrible.  I don’t get that nice compromise.  I’m kind of jealous, actually.

What I do get, though, is that whenever I’m either all up or all down, someone else I know is in the exact opposite situation.

There are those people who seem to have their lives completely together and may or may not be ignoring the “personal” aspect, which is probably why their life is all “completely together,” since they’re ignoring half of the total package.  Most of these people are men, so I’m ignoring that, because I’ve been discussing male behavior with Steph and Bree lately and I think it falls into a completely different social mathematics category.  Next time.

I’m pretty sure that ninety percent of the time, counterproductive success only applies to women anyway.  So there’s that too.

But I digress.

Take for instance, Larissa.  Right now we’re on opposite ends of the spectrum.  I’m basically all down and she’s basically all up.  I don’t know how though, and that’s what bothers me.  I think a lot of it is luck, honestly.  But this is the “grass is greener” subtext of counterproductive success.  Some people make things look easy.

I’ve been the one who makes it look easy before, so I don’t really know.

But, I guess the nice thing is that everything looks up eventually.  So I’m putting in the effort now, to be up flawlessly later.

I think that even in this case, success isn’t really just spontaneous, so it does take a lot of hard work.  Except with Larissa right now…  I really think this is all luck or the planets aligning.  I don’t even know.  She seems to be on a lucky streak right now and I am just at a loss.