I had a great time at my 22.5 year reunion. I gave those who deserved it just enough grief and otherwise enjoyed chatting up everyone. I was told that I was beautiful by the hippest girl in the class (who grew up gorgeous) and upon ackward silence, when I wasn't sure how to respond, was told that it was because I looked so happy now...and that I didn't seem happy in school. You think?
I agreed to produce and perform in a cabaret act with the most popular boy from the class, told the class jock I always had a crush on him, and had the boy who left in 4th grade tell everyone how amazing I was in high school (although I had kinda forgotten that he was there). It was actually fun, and actually they weren't awful people. So nice that people grow up.
Nick and Serge talked me through the car ride on the way down, Serge being incredulous that I was going at all, and Nick hoping it would end up like the episode of 30 Rock when Liz Lemon goes to her reunion and finds out that actually she was the mean one. Hats off to them for getting me there in one piece, and to Fieron for being my back up plan. I love my boys.
About Me
- Ariella
- I blog. I also mother, wife, create, preserve, recycle, cook, act, quilt, exercise, laugh, write, lolligag, work, volunteer, sing, and sometimes sleep.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Just another manic Monday?
I had my very first root canal today. It was perfectly fine, and the idea of being done with the horrific pain of the past 11 days was enough to make it something to look forward to. The dentist was new to me, but was so very nice, making sure I was comfortable...the biggest problem was that I kept almost falling asleep on the table, and he needed me to keep my mouth open really wide. This is what I get for staying out after Paula and Brian's wedding last night...but oh it was so fun.
I finished the procedure, paid, and left the office with my face feeling pretty numb. It wasn't until I got into the car that I realized that when I smiled, only half of my face moved. I mean, really, not my eye, not my cheek, not my mouth. So I basically looked like a stroke victim...or like Sloth from the Goonies. Now, I am not someone who thinks that I depend on my looks. I just don't. But seeing my deformed face in the mirror, and being unable to do anything about it, affected me in a way that I didn't expect at all. I was kind of amused, but also a tiny bit worried that it wouldn't go away. I did what I always do when I am in mental turmoil, and called Michael. I told him about my face and said that before I went out to do my errands and pick up the kids, I needed to drive by the office. I said (and this is where I blush a bit at my own self induced pyschological trauma) that I needed him to see it, so that he could see what I look like when I have a stroke, and therefore decide if he was really prepared to stay with me like this, because if not, he may as well leave me now. (This is the point at which every person reading this collectively thanks their lucky stars that I am not their partner) I went to the office, showed him...he was amused, but decided to stay with me anyway, and I went on my way to run my errands. Basically 3 days left before we leave for camp with the most campers we have ever taken in winter, and a snowstorm approaching...I've got things to do, face or no face.
Which leads to my evening plans.
A while back, I joined an alumni group on facebook for my elementary school. Yes, the elementary school where I was teased, beaten, cajoled, mistreated in almost every way a child can mistreat another child, and just generally hated. Why did I join? Well, I am a different person than I was and I am trying to evolve. And, plus, I have that people pleasing thing. And also, they invited me. And it was a private group, so I thought only in joining would I see what people were saying. Turns out, it wasn't anything terribly interesting, but they did end up planning a bar night for everyone in town for the holidays, and that is tonight. I promised my one friend-since-then that I would come, plus I convinced another person I had found on myspace and become friendly with to change his holiday plans and drive up from San Diego early to attend...so I kinda have to go now. And in the wake of the root canal (my face has returned, btw) I could certainly come up with an excuse not to go. I have no shortage of things to do, tomorrow night I have to convince parents I know what I am doing enough to trust me with their kids for a week, and I haven't packed, shopped (for camp), or wrapped presents yet. Guess we aren't celebrating Hanukkah this year.
Call me a glutton for punishment, but I am going. The review as to which sucked more, the reunion or the root canal, will follow.
I finished the procedure, paid, and left the office with my face feeling pretty numb. It wasn't until I got into the car that I realized that when I smiled, only half of my face moved. I mean, really, not my eye, not my cheek, not my mouth. So I basically looked like a stroke victim...or like Sloth from the Goonies. Now, I am not someone who thinks that I depend on my looks. I just don't. But seeing my deformed face in the mirror, and being unable to do anything about it, affected me in a way that I didn't expect at all. I was kind of amused, but also a tiny bit worried that it wouldn't go away. I did what I always do when I am in mental turmoil, and called Michael. I told him about my face and said that before I went out to do my errands and pick up the kids, I needed to drive by the office. I said (and this is where I blush a bit at my own self induced pyschological trauma) that I needed him to see it, so that he could see what I look like when I have a stroke, and therefore decide if he was really prepared to stay with me like this, because if not, he may as well leave me now. (This is the point at which every person reading this collectively thanks their lucky stars that I am not their partner) I went to the office, showed him...he was amused, but decided to stay with me anyway, and I went on my way to run my errands. Basically 3 days left before we leave for camp with the most campers we have ever taken in winter, and a snowstorm approaching...I've got things to do, face or no face.
Which leads to my evening plans.
A while back, I joined an alumni group on facebook for my elementary school. Yes, the elementary school where I was teased, beaten, cajoled, mistreated in almost every way a child can mistreat another child, and just generally hated. Why did I join? Well, I am a different person than I was and I am trying to evolve. And, plus, I have that people pleasing thing. And also, they invited me. And it was a private group, so I thought only in joining would I see what people were saying. Turns out, it wasn't anything terribly interesting, but they did end up planning a bar night for everyone in town for the holidays, and that is tonight. I promised my one friend-since-then that I would come, plus I convinced another person I had found on myspace and become friendly with to change his holiday plans and drive up from San Diego early to attend...so I kinda have to go now. And in the wake of the root canal (my face has returned, btw) I could certainly come up with an excuse not to go. I have no shortage of things to do, tomorrow night I have to convince parents I know what I am doing enough to trust me with their kids for a week, and I haven't packed, shopped (for camp), or wrapped presents yet. Guess we aren't celebrating Hanukkah this year.
Call me a glutton for punishment, but I am going. The review as to which sucked more, the reunion or the root canal, will follow.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Speechless
So the problem with not talking is that I then think too much.
I have had laryngitis since Sunday. Mainly due to the rocking turnout and comraderie at the boutique (pictures to follow) when I had a slight cold. The problem is, the performance for my Musical Theater class is Thursday. So basically, I have stopped talking, and am doing all the things singers are supposed to do to fix their voice. It is Wednesday now...and I can speak again, but I still can't sing. So I remain as silent as possible until tomorrow.
The issue? I am waaaaaay to far inside my own head. I am not a friend to myself. Self doubt, paranoia, basic insanity...it all just frolicks around my headspace until it spurts out. And when it spurts out, it isn't pretty.
I helped a friend last night (online, no talking) with a problem I have to some degree suffered from and still suffer from...but have no solution to. That is super frustrating. I am a helper. I am a fixer. But this situation is unfixable. I hate that. And because I am stuck inside my head right now, without my usual arsenal of folks to bounce things off of, I am taking everything personally. Everything.
Breaking it down, I am worried about not being able to sing right tomorrow, I am coming down off a post boutique high and headed into the high pressure Winter Camp prep (never mind the holidays), I am trying to be supportive as Michael busts his cute little booty even more than usual (yes, that is possible) to finish up deadlines so we can bill people before the year ends, and with all of this, I cannot speak. Fabulous.
I have had laryngitis since Sunday. Mainly due to the rocking turnout and comraderie at the boutique (pictures to follow) when I had a slight cold. The problem is, the performance for my Musical Theater class is Thursday. So basically, I have stopped talking, and am doing all the things singers are supposed to do to fix their voice. It is Wednesday now...and I can speak again, but I still can't sing. So I remain as silent as possible until tomorrow.
The issue? I am waaaaaay to far inside my own head. I am not a friend to myself. Self doubt, paranoia, basic insanity...it all just frolicks around my headspace until it spurts out. And when it spurts out, it isn't pretty.
I helped a friend last night (online, no talking) with a problem I have to some degree suffered from and still suffer from...but have no solution to. That is super frustrating. I am a helper. I am a fixer. But this situation is unfixable. I hate that. And because I am stuck inside my head right now, without my usual arsenal of folks to bounce things off of, I am taking everything personally. Everything.
Breaking it down, I am worried about not being able to sing right tomorrow, I am coming down off a post boutique high and headed into the high pressure Winter Camp prep (never mind the holidays), I am trying to be supportive as Michael busts his cute little booty even more than usual (yes, that is possible) to finish up deadlines so we can bill people before the year ends, and with all of this, I cannot speak. Fabulous.
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