Me Vs. Sproutman

I bought this plastic container in the organic section of the supermarket that contains sprouts. Organic sprouts. Alfalfa sprouts, sprouted peas, sprouted garbanzo beans, sprouted lentils, etc. And because I am a dork, this excited me. "BEHOLD!" I shouted in the supermarket as I raised the plastic above my head, "BEHOLD THE MIGHTY SPROUTS!!" The name of the product is SPROUT SALAD and the company name is THE SPROUTMAN. (From here on out, it shall always be capitalized and said outloud with booming inflection.) I want to meet this SPROUTMAN and shake his hand for livening up the banality of my daily life.

I don't always eat salads for lunch but I seem to get on a lunch kick, where I will eat the same lunch for about two weeks and then I never want to see that lunch again. I banish it from my sight. Much like how I treat boys. Anyway, this week it's a romaine/spinach salad with half a cucumber, dried cranberries, sprouts from the SPROUTMAN, Newman's balsamic vinaigrette and tofu (except I bought the wrong kind, smoked, which makes me want to throw up but I eat it anyway. What does this say about me, people? I'll save you the time. It says I'm gross.)

Anyway, sprouts are kind of a messy thing to eat. I will attempt to take a forkful and the stringy little sprouts will get hooked onto each other and I can't really twirl the sprouts on my fork like spaghetti and I can't quite scoop them up either so I just kind of scoop-twirl-spear them and shove them in my mouth before they fall out. It's not graceful, it's just effective. (Like the way I stretch out my butt muscle when I pull it in dance class.) The other day at work, I was eating lunch at my desk because man, FYI you guys, work is just about killing me and also, I can't think of a better place to eat than in a cubicle in front of my computer screen, can you?! SUCH BLISS, YOU GUYS. SUCH FLOURESCENT PEACE.

So, okay wait. Let me set this up correctly AKA switch to present tense: I'm happily chowing down on my SUPER SPROUTMAN Salad when I accidentally take too many SPROUTMAN SPROUTS and stuff them in my face. No big deal, right?! I'm not being a polite eater but hey I'm not on a date, I'm just typing up some spreadsheets so who cares!? I just need to, you know, stuff the sprouts that are now HANGING OUT OF MY MOUTH back INTO MY MOUTH where they belong.

But I can't.

You know why? Because I start thinking about how I look like a rabbit. More specifically, how I look like Shadow, my gray rabbit that I adopted from the 4H club when I was nine. And I'm thinking of Shadow, bless his poor bunny heart, he LOVED alfalfa sprouts, just like ME and he spent most of his time in his little hutch though I used to take him out sometimes and cuddle with him and take him sleigh riding and wheel him around in our wagon in the backyard and I never meant for him to die alone in his hutch, poor little guy and then...

"Laura?"

And it's my coworker. Standing above me. With a question about something important. And I just turn to him, with the SPROUTMAN'S ORGANIC SPROUTS hanging out of my mouth, like a rabbit. Like a stunned rabbit, blinking up out of my cubicle hutch. I think my ears even perked up a bit because that's how lost in thought I really was. And there was nowhere to hide. So I just stared and twitched my nose and blinked.

"I'll...wait for you to chew," he offered.

And he did. And to break the awkward silence that followed, when I finished chewing and swallowing my SPROUTMAN SPROUTS, I declared, "WOW! You just caught me at an AMAZING TIME!!!"

"Yes," answered my coworker slowly as he started choking on his laughter, "I certainly did."

And then he held my water bottle up to my mouth and patted my head affectionately while I thumped my high heel in my cubicle. He told me that if I completed my project by the Very Important Deadline, he would give me more sweet hay and maybe a chopped up carrot. And then he went back to his desk and I scratched my ear with my foot. Just another day in the corporate cage.

I Need To Go To Bed

I think my pinky toes have blisters from wearing too high heels. What else is new. I sacrifice comfort for beauty.

I swiped my metrocard at the subway station about an hour ago and a train came in less than 15 seconds. It was a miracle.

I need to highlight my hair. It looks gross.

I ended this evening at a gay bar with my roommates. While dancing randomly in a sea of men, one gay man whispered in my ear that I looked like an Olsen. Except I heard, "You look like an orphan." I stared at him and blinked a few times. He thought I was offended so he further clarified by saying, "It's not a BAD thing! I mean, I think they're cute!" Indeed.

I was walking up 8th Avenue tonight with Alayna carrying a chocolate vegan cupcake with sprinkles which I absconded from a birthday party. It was in a plastic container and somewhere after 42nd Street, it went flying out of my hands and onto the street. The bottom part of the container flew off, exposing the cupcake to the pavement.

"It's still good!" declared Alayna.

"Dude," I answered, "Maybe if this was the Upper West Side, I would pick that cupcake up and take it home. But we're right outside the Port Authority."

I've only been in the Port Authority a few times. Once was a year ago; I took a bus to Philadelphia. It was really cold there. Well. Cold and warm at the same time.

I threw the cupcake in the trash.

And then a cop came by and observed, "WOW! YOU JUST DROPPED YOUR CUPCAKE!"

And I started to almost cry and I put my hands on my hips and wailed, "I KNOW, OFFICER! And it was TOTALLY VEGAN!"

"A totally vegan cupcake?" he asked.

"YES!!!!" concurred Alayna.

"Can you arrest me for that?" I asked.

He answered solemnly, "Yes. I certainly can."

I told him to arrest Alayna instead. He didn't.

We continued walking in the freezing cold and I was reminded of going out to bars in college, in Buffalo. All dressed up and shivering, walking to the bar to get a beer. Getting dressed up and going out in the winter...it takes some serious effort. I think tonight was worth it. Minus the cupcake debacle. I did get called an orphan by a gay man and I'm going to take that as a compliment. He also loved my shoes so, that was a bonus.

It's past three and I can't sleep but I'm too tired to make the pancakes I really want to eat. I'm still thinking about that cupcake. Maybe the Port Authority sidewalk wasn't THAT dirty. Maybe throwing it in the trash was a hasty move.

Should I have saved the cupcake?

Why is the Port Authority so ghetto?

When will I really be an orphan?

Why did I wear those heels?

What is the meaning of life?

Why didn't Alayna get that cop's phone number?

Why didn't I stop at one glass of wine?

New Year's Blog-Appropriate Resolutions, 2008

- Stop buying/using plastic water bottles. Also, plastic bags. Remember canvas grocery bags BEFORE you get to the grocery store.

- Go to Europe.

- Stop beating myself up, physically and emotionally. Duh.

- Stop flirting with the cashiers at Key Food. They are in high school. You should know better.

- Raise callback to audition ratio.

- Take more time for me (this includes saying no to things I don't want to do, including dating people who still live with their mom, going on more vacations or small trips, standing up for myself when called upon and of course, stop taking shit from everyone because I'm nice)

- Stop self-deprecating humor, particularly about your "lack of talent". Not only does it end up being a self-fulfilling prophecy but dude, you are getting too old to be endearing. Then? Maybe it was cute. Now? You're just a loser.

- Stop being a loser.

- Stop excessive use of "like" and "totes".

- Create new website for acting stuff. (Who will design this for me?)

- Buy new instrument. (Guitar? Clarinet?)

- Put up curtains in bedroom

- No more shoe shopping. Seriously.

- Get 9 hours of sleep every night.

- Learn to be still

- Learn to be still

- Learn to be still

Bad Day For The Queen of Sunshine

Today sucked.

I cannot dance around this fact. And frankly kids, I shouldn't have to. This be my blog. Deal.

Woke up at 6 am without an alarm clock, had the brilliant idea to get up and work out, forgot the idea and fell back asleep until 7:30.

Arrived at work where I was bombarded with 10,000 e-mails because our office is in complete disarray since moving. (By the way, the move, however, rocked! Our new office is bright and shiny and I am not afraid of the elevators, not at ALL! KISSES FOR YOU, ELEVATORS!) I answered approximately one of these emails and then left at 10:15 am for an audition.

I showed up at this audition and this girl walked by me and I couldn't figure out where I recognized her from. And then it hit me. Her. My ex-boyfriend. Gamboling around town. My stomach appropriately plummeted to the floor, much like Tuesday when I saw a couple at Equity MAKING OUT at 8:30 in the morning while signing up for an audition. I HATE YOU COUPLE. YOU AND YOUR ACTORLY LOVE. IT IS ANNOYING AND NO I AM NOT BITTER, THANKS FOR ASKING.

Anyway. I regrouped and went in and did my monologue, for it was a straight play audition and I was determined to kick its ass. The monitor instructed that we 1) do something contemporary and b) do it simply. So I went in and did it and the director said, "Laura, that was great!" I said thank you and headed for the door and then he added, "Just so you know, the beginning should've been where the end was. You know, simple." And then I punched him in the face and ran out the door.

I mean, the hell is that!?!? You are giving me NOTES IN THE AUDITION!? Not direction, but NOTES!?!?! It would be one thing if he said, "Now try it this way..." and had me do it again. That, I respect. But to GIVE ME NOTES IN THE ROOM?! Baffled. Offended. Particularly at his word choice - "SHOULD HAVE BEEN". No. You mean, you prefer it a certain way. There is no "SHOULD HAVE BEEN" when it comes to my work. Good thing I punched him so hard he cried like a girl.

I vented in the elevator to this girl next to me and she was equally horrified. "That's not all," I continued, wallowing in my own self-pity, "That makes two days in a row of ridiculously useless feedback." She blanched and told me not to audition for the rest of the week because man was I on some kind of negative spiral. YOU THINK?! I am taking her advice. Seriously.

I guess at this point I will recap the useless feedback of last night too since we are, you know, talking about ME here, as usual. Last night, some reputable person said to me that I sang great but I needed to "THROW IT ALL AWAY!" and "Take risks!" This wouldn't have bothered me so much if it had been the first time I'd heard it. Unfortunately, this has been common feedback lately. And honestly, I could eloquently write out what exactly that means and how it may have merit and how I'm working on it but you guys?

I am bitching tonight. And eloquence is off the menu.

I am so sick of people telling me the same things. TAKE RISKS!?!?!? What does that MEAN!?!? As my good cousin Tom commiserated through e-mail, "I think people say that when they don't know what to say. I mean, TAKE RISKS? What kind of bullshit is that? What kind of risks? Like, "drink a gallon of bleach and see if you stay alive" kind of risks?!!?" Exactly, Tom. Or else, next time I sing "Notice Me, Horton", I could simultaneously take off all my clothes. Risks indeed.

Moving on. I got back to work and discovered a meeting had transpired WITHOUT ME where some very RIDICULOUSLY MUNDANE corporate things were decided that ALL INVOLVE ME and I was not there to DEFEND MYSELF and when confronted about such changes, all I could do was stand there and blink. This is my solution for dealing with people who were not born with a brain. I blink and put on my vapid face, which may or may not read, "You are dumb and I am not listening. Isn't my hair pretty today?"

So after I dealt with that, I decided to take a deep breath and spend some time on Engrish.com. I figured this would calm me down and make me smile. 'Twas not to be. I checked my email and received at least 6 from another coworker who remains at our old building. She thought she might come over to the new place to teach me how to do a few things, things I may find USEFUL! and things that are not too hard to learn!! Um. Chick? Please stop talking to me in such a condescending way. You are barely out of college and today you were wearing open-toed shoes with stockings.

I just replied back to her emails with, "UNSUBSCRIBE".

But she showed up anyway. CURSES!!!

So I stayed late at work to make up for the time I spent in midtown Manhattan not taking risks. When I left, the weather had turned to a "wintry mix" and I walked through the slush of the snow and the rain to catch the train to philosophy class. Ironically, the topic for the next 10 weeks is "Happiness". HAAAAAAAAA. THE IRONY. IT IS IRONICAL.

I just want there to be a reason for this. I want there to be some kind of reward for this hard work that amounts to seemingly nothing. I want someone to tell me what is in store for me so I can stop feeling like I'm failing. It's like I'm knocking on a door, over and over and no one is answering. I really want someone to answer. I need to know that there will be one day where I will take a damn risk or do the beginning simply like the end or just, whatever, I will do that thing that they want me to do.

What also sucks is that the reward may never come. And I have to be certain, all the way down to my bone marrow, that this journey was worth it, whether or not I ever get cast in a show again. And now, I don't know. All I know is that this journey is harder than I EVER imagined it would be. All I know is that in the winter, the muscles in my shoulders bunch up extra tight to battle the wind and no one is here to rub them. All I know is that I'm sitting here with a bowl of cereal thinking about how hard I punched that guy and not feeling at all sorry.

Ode To My Blog Stats

Google searches that have resulted in a link to this website in the past few days:

* going to the gym during menstrual cycle
* Ikea dresser drawers open halfway
* my roommate has her friends sleep on my sofa
* is farting a symptom of menstruation
* lump that disappeared on my breast

I guess I should rename this blog or at least add to the title a little bit.

The Spectrum - Home of Too Much Information

The Spectrum - Thoughts on Bodily Functions Plus Something About Your Roommate's Friends On A Sofa

The Spectrum - Running The Gamut of Topics From The Mundane To The Menstrual

What do you think, Internets?

Just A Temp

I've been meaning to post a few things about work, though I know it is not really intelligent to blog about work. And yet...and yet...I cannot resist a good story. So, boss, if you are finding this, I love you. Don't fire me. Your taste in shoes is phenomenal!

1. For the first few weeks of work, I didn't have a permanent seat. There simply wasn't room. So every day, I would casually wander around the cube farms seeing who was out that day and then promptly settle in and work at their desk. It was a bit irritating and prevented me from feeling truly "at home" in the office. Though, does anyone truly feel home in the office?

Glad you asked. Someone does INDEED feel home in the office and this someone, I will heretofore refer to as "Sports Guy". Sports Guy keeps a tall drinking glass near him at all times so that he can make iced coffee every morning from the company coffee machine. I do not know why this bothers me as I am a true fan of iced coffee myself and also a true fan of bringing in a glass from home. But...every day...even in the winter...there he is, in the kitchen, shaking up some ice.

He has bobble head dolls that live all the way around his cubicle and huge pendants hanging up as well, broadcasting the names of various sports teams. Even better, he's an IT guy, so he spends most of his day pacing around his cubicle on his headset, loudly talking about technology issues and alternately inserting comments on "The Game" he saw last night. He once asked me if I saw The Game and I stared at him and silently blinked at him for so long that he felt uncomfortable and walked away.

Fortunately, I was rarely ever seated near Sports Guy. Alas, one time near this man is one time too many and I am scarred for life. My favorite accidental encounter with Sports Guy was the conversation I heard where he was retelling the guys around me about a first date with a VEGETARIAN. "And I swear, man, I ordered the steak on PURPOSE! I mean, what kind of person doesn't eat meat?!" Oh, I don't know, Sports Guy, maybe some hot young admin who doesn't watch "The Game". Just sayin'.

2. Due to the aforementioned lack of space, we are moving. Next Tuesday, my group will head to a new office in a new part of town and honestly kids, I'm not excited. I'm in SUCH A GOOD PLACE right now and auditioning from the new place is going to take some major time and blah blah blah the real reason I don't want to move is that I AM IN CHARGE OF THIS MOVE. (Of course I am! I love responsibility! Tra la! Give me a blackberry. NOW.)

This means that I am constantly fielding questions about who is sitting where and can I pack up my plants in the moving box? and who is sitting next to me? and how far away is the kitchen from my cubicle? And hey, Laura, do you think these pants are office appropriate?

Dude. I don't KNOW. And furthermore, I don't CARE. I was recently informed that someone in my group will have to occupy a different space, far away from the rest of us since the current person over there needs a few extra days. I lightly asked if maybe that person could occupy the empty space so we can move in all together? I got an email back telling me that said person has certain sensitivities to her current location and cannot be asked to move.

Um. Okay. Good. Well. I have certain sensitivities too. A very severe sensitivity, an allergy if you will and that is, of course, a very high intolerance for corporate tools. I did not get an email back when I pointed this out. Weird.

3. Today, I attended a meeting entitled "Lunch & Learn" where we met in the executive board room to, you guessed it! Lunch! And LEARN! It would've been decent had they not been serving pizza and not been tryin' to learn me about a new IT program. Dude. If there's one thing I don't care about, it's IT. The Greatest Hits of 1986? Now THERE'S a lecture I want to hear. Technology Improvements To Our Feedback System? Not so much. I listened for awhile as someone blathered on about FA's and IT and blah blah and then I zoned out and looked fifty floors below me and tried to count the Duane Reades.

I did, however, happen to be looking at the powerpoint screen when the presenter pulled up his personal email to show an example. Lo and behold, a few messages down, was an email in his inbox from Sports Guy with the subject line "FW: DAILY DILBERT". I looked at Sports Guy to see if he was embarrassed about this but instead, he was biting his lower lip while simultaneously grinning and giving a thumbs up to the guy across from him.

Dude. You guys e-mail each other the DAILY DILBERT. I feel like even now, as I'm blogging this, no one's going to believe me because it is such a freaking cliche. It was at this moment that I turned to a coworker of mine and asked, "Are you kidding me with this?!"

He replied, "With what? I wasn't listening. Hey, do you know you can see three Duane Reades from here?" Further reinforcing my theory that people in a corporate setting rarely ever do any actual work. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be over here, talking on my headset, packing up my sports paraphernalia in perparation for the Big Corporate Move '08 and crying silently in my chair because man, I just have such sensitivities to my current environment.

Almost Famous

I stopped checking my blog stats for awhile because really, I thought to myself, what is the point? I have no idea who that person is in Kansas that checks up on me. But I was bored at work the other day and suddenly remembered I could log in and check the stats and oooo boy, was I in for a nice surprise!

I usually average about 20-30 regular daily readers and 50-70 new people who find my blog every day by googling random things like "vegan gas". (No lie, that happened on Monday.) Anyway, the average total pageloads for my blog on a daily basis rests anywhere from 40-70 on any given day. Not a lot at all and mostly, it's people I know AKA my best friend Alayna, my mom at home, my mom at work and Alayna's mom at possibly work and/or home. (Hi, Alayna's mom!)

Anyway, while I can't see exactly WHO you are, I can see the city you click from and I can always see where you found me. (Mostly from googling scary, scary things. See also: Vegan Gas). Anyway, usually the stat counter doesn't show a link from anywhere, meaning, people read me on a regular basis and just type in my url directly. Or they come over from Deanna's site and then quickly stop reading me because unlike her, I am not always talking about DivaCups and Wiping My Butt With Cloth. (I LOVE YOU. DON'T EVER CHANGE.)

So, I was intrigued when I noticed that yesterday, a bunch of people were coming over from here.

And by a bunch, I mean THOUSANDS.

Just kidding. But my average daily clicks yesterday and today have shot up to 140 and 115 respectively. So, because I am a computer dork, I clicked the link and to my surprise, The Spectrum was given a shout-out on Wooden Porch's Laugh Out Loud Mondays, thanks to this post.

A few great ladies left me comments and Wooden Porch herself emailed me this impressive award, which just sums it up nicely, doesn't it?

Incidentally, Wooden Porch found that entry through her friend who reads both mine and Deanna's blog. (Thanks Deedee! Let's make a deal: You keep writing intellectually about the saving the environment and I will continue to write about falling on my ass and occasionally posting pictures of my shoes.)

So, welcome fellow Wooden Porch fans. If you are here looking for another klutzy story, I am sad to say that I cannot even begin to top that treadmill post. However, while out for a morning run today, I ran smack into a Christmas tree. Seriously. Like, right into it.

This is not the first time this has happened. In fact, I seem to do it every year. I swear, those things just jump out of nowhere.

Diagnosis

If any of you were wondering how I've been doing since this post, I'm gonna tell you. Because assessments have been made and I'll be damned if I'm not going to share them with the internets. In truth? I am 100% better. It was not a gradual "coming out of a funk" feeling, it was almost as if I woke up one day and I was better. I couldn't help but notice, after doing some sleuthing on the internet, that my severe numbness and helpless feelings coincided with my menstrual cycle. Once again, I venture into TMI territory but whatever, we're all grown ups here. Okay, fine, you are.

I had therapy on Friday and after a long, lovely discussion, there has been a somewhat strong conclusion drawn. Apparently, two years ago, when my gynecologist told me that I was just "very, very sensitive to hormones", she was not lying. I stole the following information from some health websites because I am too lazy to sum it up on my own. I highlighted the symptoms I experienced during this cycle in BOLD. Reflecting on past cycles, I have suffered from these and others on the list.

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), afflicting 5% of all women. is a severe form of premenstrual syndrome. It is a mood disorder associated with the luteal phase of the menstrual cycle.

PMDD is similar to PMS, but differs from it in severity. Treatment is recommended because PMDD interferes with the sufferer's ability to function in her environment. The cardinal symptom--surfacing between ovulation and menstruation, and disappearing within a few days after the onset of the bleeding--is irritability. Anxiety, anger, and depression may also occur. The main symptoms, which can be disabling, include:

• feelings of sadness or despair, or possibly suicidal thoughts
• feelings of tension or anxiety
• panic attacks
• mood swings, crying
• lasting irritability or anger that affects other people
• disinterest in daily activities and relationships
• trouble thinking or focusing
• tiredness or low energy
• food cravings or binge eating
• having trouble sleeping
• feeling out of control
• physical symptoms, such as bloating, breast tenderness, headaches, and joint or muscle pain

Five or more of these symptoms may indicate PMDD. Symptoms occur during the week before the menstrual cycle and go away when the bleeding starts.

Hooray, hooray for hormones! We have decided to monitor my next cycle and see how severe it gets. There are a few alternatives to try in the event that I keep experiencing this every month. Obviously, I am hoping this is not the case because, wow, I NEVER WANT TO FEEL THAT WAY AGAIN, EVER. That deep depression and constant apathy wrecked my life for a few weeks and made my family and friends go out of their minds. So, I will be monitoring my mental health very soon and hoping for the best, especially since I am due to ovulate any day now.

On a related note, does anyone want to have a baby with me because dudes, I'm going to be so fertile in about twenty four hours.

No?

Really?

Oh. Ha. Yeah! No, I mean. Yeah. I was kidding too! Totally! Did you think I was serious? HA! I WASN'T!

Wait. Are you sure?

Okay.

And so, kids, I am BACK IN ACTION and ready to have a fantastic New Year. I'd like to talk about my resolutions and all but I'll save that for another post. A different post. A better post. Where I am not talking about my uterus.

In other news, if you are a boy and I dumped you out of nowhere one day, at any point over the past few years, I'd like to say that I was probably PMS-ing and didn't know what I was doing and we should totally try it again!

But you know? It was probably not the PMS. It was probably the fact that you repeatedly showed up drunk on our dates.

Love,
Laura & Her Estrogen

Then again...

How depressed can I be with curly hair, those shoes and the best New Year's Eve to date?

I'm posting this picture to counteract the feetie pajama picture.
I flickrd the few pictures I have. Sorry. I was too busy dancing my heart out to remember my camera.

Not a bad way to bring in 2008...