Tag Archives: Boise

A Series of Fortunate Events, Part II

February 6, 2010

“Now I bid you lose me and find yourselves; and only when you have all denied me will I return to you” (Friedrich Nietzsche, Why I Am So Wise)

In the months immediately subsequent to my abrupt relocation from Idaho to Washington, I was plagued with depression, illness, and overwhelming isolation, but, for the first time in as long as I could remember, I had hope that things would change. Boise had left a lingering sickness in my soul, a black phlegm lodged deep in my lungs that I still find myself coughing up, but I found freedom in allowing myself to fail. I thought new thoughts, and rejected, slowly, the old beliefs and morals that had stagnated my mind.

Slowly, so very slowly, I am beginning to calm the rage that gives me constant headaches and makes me grind my teeth at night. I am no longer a cornered animal, violently lashing out. I am no longer the frightened child feigning boldness against a raging bully. I simply am. My mind is still every moment as chaotic as ever (pure Id, slowly being tempered into acuity), but now, in the worst moments, I know that this too shall pass. In the best moments, I strive to stay present. Yesterday is but a memory, and tomorrow but a thought, I have only now.

I strive to live an amoral life, unhampered by the overwhelming guilt of my childhood. I do not need a God, I have a mind. I do not need a savior, I have forgiven myself.

I see the world in colour again, for the first time since childhood.

I am finding myself.

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In the Interim…

December 6, 2009

I do have big plans for my two- (or perhaps three-) part blog on my selfishness theorem, but have not been able to devote a reasonable block of time to its completion for a number of reasons, most of which include (but are not limited to) working long hours, the theft of my laptop (I do not enjoy writing by hand), and my excessive amount of traveling of late to and from Boise. I was in Boise so frequently in November, I almost began to feel like I lived there again.

For those who are unaware, I am currently employed as an administrative assistant for a medium-ish sized company (I don’t know what constitutes a medium-sized company, I just know that the company I work for is larger than small and smaller than large. Precision is not my forte). My job description includes office management, administrative work, special projects, personal assistant to the CEO and “other duties” (a phrase the CEO is ALWAYS happy to remind me encompasses whatever the hell he wants at any given moment). It’s a good job, but it’s frequently overwhelming (I won’t go into detail of the amount of time I have spent sobbing in the bathroom).

The net result of this exagerrated work load is that I am forced to prioritize my work in such a way that some of the more basic tasks (such as ordering office supplies and fulfilling my coworkers’ menial requests) are put off in favour of more pressing issues. Most of my coworkers understand the level of pressure I am under, and docilely accept my inability to immediately cater to their requests. We have a process: coworker submits request verbally. Megan says, “send me an email”. Coworker submits request via email. Megan flags said email for follow-up within the next two weeks and gets to it when she has time.

Generally speaking, we have had no major issues with this routine. Until now. We recently had several new hires and several transfers from other offices come to our building. Most of these people have adapted rapidly to My Way (”Hit the road, Bucko” being the only other option presented), and as such we can maintain a cordial relationship. One particular creature, however, seems to have trouble adapting, so I have adopted a full-scale behavioural modification plan.

The offender frequently loiters by my desk, creepily rifling his bacteria-ridden hands through the bowl of candy I keep on my desk. He never says anything to me until I address him. (He displays extreme passive-aggressiveness - little does he realise that he is dealing with someone who is not at all passive, just aggressive). At first, I attempted to be polite. “How may I help you?” I would ask, in my least sarcastic and most officious* tone.

Him: “Yes. [Insert unnecessarily long pause while he continues to stare at me and violate my candy dish**]. I need.[Pause]. You. [Pause]. To order me. [Pause]. A/an [insert random office supply]“.

Me: “No problem! I’m sure you’ll need more than just that one item, why don’t you make me a list and then send me an email.”

A few hours later, this same conversation would be repeated, except I would become increasingly rude. I do not enjoy being stared at, particularly by someone who displays significant anti-social behaviours, and every time he would come stand at my desk I would ignore him for as long as possible, then, finally, snap.

“What?!”

“Yes. [Significant pause]. I would like [pause] [insert some other inane office supply]”

“Send. [Pause]. Me. [Pause]. An. [Pause]. Email.”

He NEVER sent a fucking email.

This was repeated about four times the first day, and probably the same amount of time the second day. Once, he even had the gall to ask me if his stuff had been ordered, to which I replied, “Oh, what stuff? I have not received an email requesting any supplies.”

He has yet to send an email, but HE WILL COMPLY. I shall prevail. Or else he’ll spend the rest of his time at our office without such simple amenities as power supplies and staplers.

Notes:

* I’m using the word in the archaic sense, since I did not realise until I just now lookied it up that it has taken the connotation of being meddlesome. I prefer the Jane Austen meaning.

** For the record, that is not a euphemism. Thank God.

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A Series of Fortunate Events, Part I

November 21, 2009

The Selfishness Theorem:

1. Selfishness is not inherently negative or positive.

2. Living for oneself is a natural extension of the evolutionary directive towards self-preservation.

3. Human selfishness can extend beyond the whims and desires of the moment to encompass a greater goal.

4. Cognitively aware selfish behaviour directs us to behave in ways that benefit others, because ultimately this benefits us as herd animals (unselfish behaviour is, at its core, selfish). Selfish behaviour therefore drives a healthy society.

I have explained my idea incompletely, but I hope at least the gist of what I am attempting to say is clear. I am sure my Selfishness Theorem is neither original nor particularly radical (I have been told that it is Randian), but it was the result of original and radical thought on my part when I dared to posit an answer to a question that was thrown accusatively at me over and over again: Can there be morality, or even meaning in life, apart from God?

“No” was the unequivocal answer from pastors, parents and peers, and I, having no other frame of reference, believed them. Truth apart from divinity, they insisted, was void. I could neither believe in, nor worship their God, and, in accordance with all I had been taught I concluded that life was meaningless. Thus, when I found myself waking up in a hospital room that smelled nauseatingly of stomach acid and charcoal, with the heavy weight of a heart that had defied death the night before still beating slowly in my chest, I was angrier than I had ever been before in a life characterised predominantly by rage. Angry at the monitor that counted off my vitals, angry at the doctors who whispered “miracle” to my religious parents, angry at a God I didn’t believe in, and angriest of all that the culmination of nihilism is having nothing to rage against. (This is why the Buddhists are peaceful - they recognize the futility of anger in a world without God).
In my 19 years of having been told that I was selfish and immoral, 19 years of being guilt-ridden and brow-beaten by a religion that is redemptive only to the elect, I, for the first time, had downed two bottles of pills, finally, consciously, done something entirely for myself. Though I did not realise it at the time, selfishness would be my salvation.

Many people will say (with a mixture of derision and fear) that suicide is the most selfish act a person can engage in (intending “selfish” to be taken in a pejorative sense). These people are correct: suicide IS an inherently selfish act, instigated by the pressure to unselfishly meet the demands of others. We are not intended to unselfishly strive to live for others, and our biology rebels against such unnatural acts.

Many people have near-death experiences and find God. Many more people have near-life experiences and continue on in the same rut. I had no God to turn to, and, when the rage died down, I found that my will to live was not obsolete, but was instead crying out for a different life: a life apart from religious guilt and fear, a life not spent in a several-thousand-year-old mold intended to reacreate homo sapiens sapiens in the image of a middle-eastern tribe’s deity. A life not contracted by the morality I learned from infancy, but instead expanding exponentially in curiousity and discovery. The beauty of nihilism, I learned, is freedom.

So, I chose life, in the most Darwinian sense: primeval, raw, and selfish. I fought, I failed, I grieved, I was reckless, thoughtless, utterly selfish, and I began to heal.

Almost two years after my suicide attempt, I realised again that I was spiraling back into deep, terrifying, suicidal depression. This time, though, I was selfish enough to believe I had value, to believe my life was worth preserving. I had spent a lifetime of fighting for others and for whatever cause I was most passionate about at the time, but now I fought for myself, and, again made a conscious decision to be completely selfish. I packed my bags and left Boise.

To be continued…

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Three Weekends, One Blog.

July 23, 2009

The past three weekends have been shockingly busy for me, so this blog will be ridiculously long. Here are some highlights, arranged numerically for my convenience (I’ve clearly been working too long as an admin assistant - I already have to format everything):

Weekend of the 3rd - 5th:

Friday -

1. I went to Portland to see my friend Josh.

2. We rode the train (first train I’ve ever been on), perused old books at Powells, ate ice cream, and drank beer (not simultaneously).

3. We also watched a scary TV show, and I cried (sorry, Josh). I’m a really fun guest.

Saturday -

1. I drove home from Portland.

2. I went to a concert in a park with my aunt, uncle and cousins. Some good blues bands played, and the fireworks were pretty. Unfortunately, we were sitting next to some extraordinarily idiotic people, of whom the only remotely tolerable member of the group was the retarded girl who plugged her ears and yelled at the bands at random intervals. (See points three, five, and six here).

Sunday -

1. I have no idea what happened this day. I probably cried.

Weekend of the 10th - 13th:

Friday -

1. Karissa, my indomitable best friend came into town.

2. I had literally no money whatsoever (due to a paycheck fiasco involving my former employer) so Karissa had to pay for parking so that we could leave the airport. I’m a terrible friend.

Saturday -

1. We went to the bank to cash my paycheck, and the tellers acted like it was a HUGE inconvenience for them to cash a check that one of their customers had written. I refused to sympathise with their desperate and terrible plight. Imagine, having to do your job! Oh, the humanity!

2. After eating a massive breakfast (we each only ate half of what we ordered), we headed to Pike’s Place Market.

3. We didn’t get lost, thanks to Karissa’s superb navigation skills, and my superb driving skills.

4. I did, however, almost destroy my car’s transmission when we were forced to stop and start again while going up an absurdly steep street. I don’t actually know if the horrible grinding noise my car made was the transmission, but that’s what I imagine an angry transmission would sound like.

5. We were hit on by a homeless man who said “Hey, girls” in a creepy, syrupy-sweet, voice while we walked past him while we were headed to the car to drop off some stuff. On the way back to the market we passed him again, and he said “Hey, girls” in EXACTLY the same tone. So creepy.

6. Some random guy informed us that smoking causes cancer and would kill us. I reminded him that everyone dies at some point. He mumbled something that was probably obscene and walked away. In retrospect, I wish I would have exclaimed “NO, REALLY?!” in utter shock.

7. We walked from Pike’s Place Market to the Seattle Center, which is over a mile-long walk. Not bad, unless you are like me and choose to wear ballet-style flats instead of walking shoes. After we got to the Seattle Center, we discovered that we could have taken the monorail.

8. I’m already bored of writing this, so I’m going to assume you’re tired of reading it. Here is the next few hours in one sentence: We rode the monorail back to the mall, went shopping and had dinner at PF Chang’s.

9. Oh, but I cannot forget to tell you about The Great Bathroom Fiasco of ‘09 (or, “Why Tukwila, WA, Should Be Destroyed in a Nuclear Holocaust”): Karissa may be angry if I tell this story, but she is in Boise and I am not, so tough beans.

Just as we were leaving downtown Seattle, Karissa announced that she had to pee. As in, RIGHT NOW. I, being the loving and sympathetic friend that I am, refused to stop anywhere until we had safely exited the downtown region and navigated to the freeway. “We can stop in Tukwila,” I said, “it’s very close”. Karissa, being a good friend, agreed. She was miserable. I laughed. Not in a mean way, more in a “this is ridiculous and hilarious” way. My laughter did not help. By the time we exited at Tukwila, we were in Code Red. I pulled over at the nearest gas station, and Karissa went inside. I stayed out in the car, because a few minutes earlier I had taken off my strapless bra (which had become uncomfortable) and thus I was feeling somewhat self-conscious (ABOUT MY NIPPLES, DUH). To add to my discomfort, there was a group of young men milling about a few feet from my car who kept waving at me and gesturing for me to join them. Uh, no, sorry boys. My nipples and I are just fine where we are, thanks.

When Karissa emerged from the gas station, she informed me that someone had locked the keys in the bathroom, so she couldn’t get in, but the attendant had said there was a gas station “just down the street”. So, we started driving. And driving. And driving. Turns out, the gas station dude was correct, and there IS a gas station “just down the steet,” if you interpret “just down the street” as FIVE MILES AWAY. When we finally found a gas station, its restroom was for employees only. I, again, waited in the car (I really am a terrible friend), and watched Karissa gesticulate frantically while she tried to convince the attendant to let her use the restroom. Thankfully, they consented, and a crisis was averted. Everyone was happy (or befuddled, in the case of the gas station employees), and we vowed to never go to Tukwila again.

Sunday -

1. We went shopping at Trader Joe’s, and went to my Aunt and Uncle’s house for dinner. A fun, lazy day.

Monday -

1. I went to work, but left early to have dinner with Karissa before taking her to the airport. I must admit, I really enjoyed coming home to someone who made me dinner. I think I need a wifey.

Weekend of the 17th - 19th:

Friday -

1. I woke up at five am to the sound of my uncle knocking on my apartment door. My uncle, who had kindly offered to take me to the airport that morning, had to wait about twenty minutes while I packed. In my defense, I managed to get ready to go and completely packed in under 25 minutes. I was impressed with myself. I only forgot a few things, like my strapless bra (which is still in the back seat of my car where I had thrown it the weekend before) and my friend’s wedding gift.

2. I arrived in Boise at 9:30am, and spent the morning and early afternoon with my mother at her Iraqi friend’s house. They are an incredibly sweet family, and fed me a lot. Really, a LOT. After I had eaten several platefuls of excellent food, they still kept trying to get me to eat more. I really don’t think eating oneself to death would be a too-tragic fate.

3. In the evening, my eldest brother Daniel (Elder Barry, as Julie calls him) and I went to the rehearsal dinner for my best friend Quinn (yes, I have multiple best friends. Three, to be precise: Karissa, Quinn, and Aimee) where we consumed MORE food.

4. After the rehearsal dinner, the girls went downtown to Old Chicago for drinks (well, Aimee didn’t drink because she is still a registered fetus. Also, she doesn’t really like alcohol anyway).

5. I forgot to mention that I decided to wear heels that day, and ended up doing much more walking than I had originally anticipated. By the evening, when we were walking the four or five blocks to Old Chicago, I was in so much pain that I contemplated sawing off my feet at the ankles so I wouldn’t have to walk any further. I’m pretty sure that if I was ever captured by hostile forces and tortured I would just laugh at them: HAHA! Your futile methods may work on MEN, but I am WOMAN! I wear torture devices on my feet of my own free will! Once a month, my uterus tries to destroy me! I have constant migraines! I tear the hair off of my body using hot wax (okay, I only did that once, and it hurt so much I had to stop)! You have NOTHING on me! (Women who have actually given birth, feel free to add that to the catalogue of womanly strength).

6. I did not get drunk. Yes, that is noteworthy.

Saturday -

1. Wedding day! Because I had neglected to bring my strapless bra, I had thrown a corset into my bag, figuring that it would accomplish the same task. I was not sure if I would have anyone to help me put it on when I later tried to get into my dress, so I decided to put it on myself. Let me say one thing: wearing corsets? Sexy. Putting on corsets, particularly by oneself? Not so pretty.

2. Went to breakfast with my brothers, Elder Barry and Schneitzel-face and Schneitzel’s lovely bride, Hilary.

3. Went to the rehearsal for Karissa’s play since I will be missing the show in August. So far, it looks excellent, albeit occasionally unintentionally hilarious.

4. Journeyed to (I am tired of typing “went to”) Karissa’s abode where she helped me get ready for the wedding, including tightening my corset so much I couldn’t breathe even if I wanted to and convinced me to wear a ballgown-style skirt with the corset, instead of the less formal dress I was planning on wearing. It didn’t take much convincing. (So far, Karissa scores as best wife and handmaiden ever - she even did a bit of sewing to repair my skirt! Again, Karissa is a good friend, me, not so much).

5. Karissa drove me to Quinn’s wedding where I was, suffice to say, the most buxom creature there.

6. The bride was gorgeous in a wine-red dress that she and her talented sister Mandi (200books.com) made themselves. (Follow the link to see pictures of the pretty lady)

7. The wedding was HOT HOT HOT. I think poor Quinn got a bit over-heated.

8. After the bride and groom departed, I became rather melancholy, which always happens to me at weddings. Then I got drunk on some fantastic home-brew, and my mood improved immensely.

Sunday

1. Aimee and I went to lunch at the Pie Hole downtown. They burned our pizza, and it was still fantastic. I love that place. Aimee and I go there almost whenever we go out, which obviously isn’t very often anymore.

2. We then went to the park, where Aimee and I hung out for an hour or so while I waited for my family and the Iraqi family I mentioned earlier to arrive.

3. I spent the rest of the day eating picnic food, playing badminton, crying, playing poker, crying, and lying on the grass. Then I went to the airport and had to wait an extra hour for my flight.

4. On the flight home, the people behind me were obscenely drunk and loud. In case of crash and we had found ourselves in a Donner Party-like situation, I would have gladly voted to eat them first. Alcohol may not be the best marinade, but goddammit, at least being cannibalised would shut them up.

5. I arrived home to find my kitten fat and happy to see me. I figured that he would be very angry with me for leaving for so long, but he was very cuddly.

The End!

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I Can’t Even Think of a Good Title

July 22, 2009

I have a half-finished blog detailing my most recent adventures, but tonight I am too tired, and too depressed to try and finish it.

Instead, I’m just posting a link to Jon Armstrong’s blog about living with someone with chronic depression.

I’m too emotionally spent right now to even try to explain why I’m posting this, but I will say that I think that if all the pragmatic, calm, “normal” people in life could just step outside themselves enough to recognise that sometimes they’re part of the problem too, maybe we could find a solution.

I’m going to stop there, because I have nothing remotely kind or funny left to say.

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