Worst Week in a Long While

Sunday: Cruising down from the Salt Lake temple, not really paying attention in the carpool lane. First ticket. 15 miles over the speed limit. I was just lucky I guess. Even luckier that I didn't have my license with me (it was in the scanner at work, where I had scanned it for a government document). Even luckier that it had expired. Lucky Lucky me. Day one....then

every check I've written in the last three months was apparently cashed, all in one weekend. Not expecting this, I didn't check my account. Two "overdraft protection notice" alerts later...I'm like, who ate my entire checking account!

I've officially had to get a ride to the DMV...twice...in order to get a new license. And each time I sat there for two hours and have had to leave before being served due to work or class.

Two Exams.

Miata falls terribly ill. Uncool. Uncool. Especially because I can do nothing about it.

Decided to get my mind off things by going to the gym. The gym has, apparently, been renovating and has been charging 15 bucks every six months ...to my old credit card, which is now expired. They have not been telling me this. I have apparently been charged a late fee as well, since the uninformed charges to the expired card have seemed to come up with nothing. Once I got in the weight room, I noticed my shirt was on backwards. I worked out in it anyway. On the way home, as I crossed the crosswalk, someone honked at me. I shot her/him a look of death. They probably cried on the way home, that look was so dark.

That and various young love emotional garbage betwixt me and his highness The Prince of Monaco, have left me feeling a little ragged. I think that I just get all my pain at once, so that the rest of the month can sail smoothly.

Dream or Nightmare?

I'm currently out on the town with my sister and mom. I've just come from a stake and shrimp dinner, complete with key lime pie. I am about to go to the theater, and I am staying in nice, posh quarters. Is my life a dream or what?

The woman in charge of setting up my schedule for the upcoming semester has not e-mailed me back. I've still got to finish my NZ application. It seems very unlikely that I will be able to finish my schooling by the end of next summer due to a university inspired lack of available spots. The resulting unnecessary extra semester throws off many large plans. This blog has been acting freake' when opened on explorer, so I may have to go without witty pictures for a while. I haven't written on my other blogs in forever. I'm still stuck in my old job. Is my life a nightmare or what?

My relationship is making me "fluffy."

--"Yummy"
-thought that goes through Megan's head the most when hanging out with her significant other...for more reasons than one.

The realization started when a beloved high school friend decided to tag me in some photos from the illustrious Ohio senior year. At the time, I was all but romantically involved with a suitor I shall call "School." Now School and hung out all the time . When I wasn't at School's place, I was thinking about School, planning when I'd see School again, and trying desperately to stay in School's good graces. To be fair, School was pretty into me. There were weeks, months, nay....semesters, when it felt like I couldn't get School off of me. School and I were tight. My parents and a good number of my friends were very supportive of my strong relationship with School. I really invested in School my senior year though, and much to my horror, it showed. Photographically, it showed. Since I really wasn't attempting to attract other potential relationships, all the pictures of School and I featured yours truly in dreadful sweats, hair amok. The worst part though was the general increase in how...um....cuddly I looked in some of these photos. Now, nothing grotesque, and I was probably about the same size as now...it was really more of a lack of sportswomanish physique than anything. School and I used to have a very active relationship, playing sports, jogging to school...but beginning in my junior year, and culminating in the senior one, School and I resigned ourselves to more...sedentary/literary pastimes. I kindly untagged (wince).
But really, who could blame me! Such extravagant lunches. So many competition brunches, long debate trips graced with celebration dinners, and not to mention every kid with a cupcake-happy mom had a birthday...and six periods of birthday-laden classes at that!
Once I got to college I started dating gentlemen of a less metaphorical variety. This was even worse. People Relationships are the homes of the dreaded trifecta-

A: Boys are nice. Attractive boys are nicer. I would not be in a relationship with unattractive boys. Being near attractive boys fills me with fuzzy endorphins, contentment and a “smile while rolling around in the sun for hours” feeling seldom seen since the Land of the Lotus Eaters. So, after spending an afternoon or evening with a boyfriend I usually spend the next three hours draped over a couch eating chocolates and humming romantic show tunes. This is not conducive to an active, healthy lifestyle.

B. Relationships are accompanied by a bizarre, but unavoidable, desire to be with the other almost all of the time. I have a gym membership. The significant other does not. Due to dietary choices and genetic lottery winnings, he is blessed with things like “upper-body strength” and “a lean, sexy core”, naturally. Once a relationship is entered into, the gym becomes part of the “utterly undesirable activities which require separation from boyfriend” list, right between “Shoot self in thigh.” and “Go to the moon.”

C. Boyfriends reciprocally tend to find me attractive. This leads to the doubly detrimental behavior of providing me with food and telling me they find me attractive no matter what. So now, instead of my single life, plagued with with an imaginary voice forever warning me of health-depleting caloric intake and potential boy- repulsing “fluffiness”, I am now plagued with an actual voice inviting me over for cheesecake, while commenting how much he enjoys how “soft” my stomach is.

So...

I am very tired, and I do not want to get up and face the world. Too bad the world has been askin' for it.

Dear Universe

Universe: Hey Megan.

Megan: I don't want to talk to you right now.

Universe: What? Why? You usually can't wait to talk to me.

Megan: Are you trying to kill me?

Universe: Well...I suppose in the very looooong run, yes, but in the short term I kind of like you living...plus you've got that Jesus guy.

Megan: Well, then explain to me how I could have my keys in my hand this morning, and not this evening.

Universe: Well, an object at rest stays at rest....

Megan: Come now, none of that. Where are my keys! For serious. This charade stopped being funny like a loooooong time ago.

Universe: Well, I'm sure they're somewhere around here.

Megan: Well, you are the Universe, for cryin' out loud. Can't you tell me where they are?

Universe: *blink blink* Do you have ANY idea how much is going on with me right now.

Megan: Ya, well, I sometimes forget how big you are.

Universe: Are you calling me fat?

Megan: No, more like "ever expanding." I'm sure it's all muscle though.

Universe: Darn right. Hey, didn't you get like five copies of your keys just in case this happened.

Megan: Yep. Bad news being that none of them seem work in the ignition.

Universe: Well...wow. That does bite something fierce.

Megan: This begs the interesting question of whether or not I was created to do anything right. I mean, I try my best, but everything seems to go wrong anyway. I mean, I spend about 90 percent of my day worrying about stuff- like hard core. Are there people in the Universe who don't worry all that often?


Universe: Yes. But they're usually dead, or about to be. But really Megan, you've got great friends who love you and are waaaay nicer to you than you are to them, you're surviving school, you have an income, and what about that pretty boy you got recently.

Megan: You're right. I really like him.

Universe: And your family is really great too, and really love you.

Megan: Maybe you're right universe. Maybe I really do have it really really good, and so far nothing has killed me yet. Everything really does seem to work out....except me on certain days. *self-amused chuckle*

Oh, and I just found my keys.

Projects

"Due-bee Due-be Due"
- Megan's brain crooning like Frank Sinatra while the teacher keeps talking about all the things that are due in the next week. Brain, keepin' me entertained.


Monday- large paper defending my position on whether or not english language acquisition strategies ought to be taught.
Large Presentation given defending my position on in-service teaching in low ELL school districts

Tuesday- Create a large project center teaching a basic idea of the SIOP program
Doctor's appointment that morning

Wed- Large paper of death designed to kill me, presenting project with ELL families
Project Presentation

Thursday-
Large Presentation on vocabulary teaching
Large project on creating centers based on verisimilitude as related to war of the worlds, using the topic of "optical illusion"

Friday- Go to the zoo


During all of this I still have to go to work...where there resides an "all-powerful" and condescending creature of death who does not seem to be happy until all the joy is sucked out of my day. True story.

It's me again.

It's me again. You know it's me because I'm going to make a very personal complaint that only a Megan would know.


Falling asleep in your makeup two days in a row is a bad plan.


See. I'm back.