my girl is here. and i'm a wreck.
first of all, she is the cutest thing i have ever seen. she is sweet, cuddly, curious, and damn stubborn as hell. but she's so confused, and i feel so guilty for taking her away from her rescue mommy and displacing her into this crazy city life she has no idea what to do about (which really does break my heart, even if i am super certain that we'll be bff in no time).
but i also love her. already. when i look into her precious little eyes, staring up at me trying to make sense of the madness she's endured today, i just want to make it all better for her. right now, she's lying on the couch next to me, her head's on my foot, and her arms are in my lap, and it makes me feel like we're going to be okay.
but it doesn't mean i'm not scared absolutely shitless. i have to somehow train this girl to get used to outings on a leash, peeing in the yard, and pooping somewhere other than inside my flat (which seems to be her preference). i have to make sure she knows this is *home* and that she's stuck with me no matter what (and hope that's a good thing for her).
and even though she's only been here for about six hours, i am utterly exhausted! i'm emotionally drained from the pressure of wanting to be a good mom without having a damn clue what that means or how to do it, and feeling like i have to make sure she doesn't feel abandoned and that she's happy on the music box steps.
and for those of you who know what an anal freak of nature i am, you'll be surprised to learn that her gas and the fact that she smells like ass doesn't even bother me. not that much...
~k
30 April 2010
27 April 2010
multitasking tuesday
while my original plan was to work from home today because a funeral was going to wreak havoc on my commute, when i was still in bed for "morning becomes eclectic", the day seemed like it might be turning into a personal day. when i got the email that my adoption was going through and that scarlet would be arriving on friday (see three days from now), i knew a personal day was in order, as a million things were on the pre-arrival to-do list.
so i went to burbank. for gates, crates, food, treats, toys, and a leash. then i came home, put together said gates, before figuring out that they fit neither of my kitchen doors (one of the doors was too small, the other two big).
sidebar: i am no architect. and whilst i have a deep appreciation for puzzle-esque things, i was in no mood today (we'll blame it on the full moon this time), and it took every bit of self restraint i could muster to not destroy the gates. i'm practicing patience (and it is really f'ing hard!) for the arrival of my puppy. and yes, i said puppy.
i didn't really want a puppy. i wanted a dog a little bit older, a little more mellow, a little more house-trained. but alas, she chose me. she was in my flat, on the house visit last week, for less than 15 minutes when she shit on my just-washed bed. and i knew we were made for each other.
anyway... whilst battling gates today, i caught up with kbd-little. whilst driving back to burbank to switch out the gates for ones that will hopefully fit my door frames, i caught up with another dear friend (who is in the process of building utopia).
i then ran 4.5 miles.
after which, i met the judge and dr. dave for sushi (and sake).
and rushed home to find A REPEAT OF LOST!? (with only four episodes left, i consider this an abomination).
needless to say, i've had entirely too much going on today, so i think i'm going to turn off FAKE LOST and go to bed (at least i've got a kick ass book waiting for me), and dream about the mini-diplomat who will be joining my life on friday...
~k
so i went to burbank. for gates, crates, food, treats, toys, and a leash. then i came home, put together said gates, before figuring out that they fit neither of my kitchen doors (one of the doors was too small, the other two big).
sidebar: i am no architect. and whilst i have a deep appreciation for puzzle-esque things, i was in no mood today (we'll blame it on the full moon this time), and it took every bit of self restraint i could muster to not destroy the gates. i'm practicing patience (and it is really f'ing hard!) for the arrival of my puppy. and yes, i said puppy.
i didn't really want a puppy. i wanted a dog a little bit older, a little more mellow, a little more house-trained. but alas, she chose me. she was in my flat, on the house visit last week, for less than 15 minutes when she shit on my just-washed bed. and i knew we were made for each other.
anyway... whilst battling gates today, i caught up with kbd-little. whilst driving back to burbank to switch out the gates for ones that will hopefully fit my door frames, i caught up with another dear friend (who is in the process of building utopia).
i then ran 4.5 miles.
after which, i met the judge and dr. dave for sushi (and sake).
and rushed home to find A REPEAT OF LOST!? (with only four episodes left, i consider this an abomination).
needless to say, i've had entirely too much going on today, so i think i'm going to turn off FAKE LOST and go to bed (at least i've got a kick ass book waiting for me), and dream about the mini-diplomat who will be joining my life on friday...
~k
26 April 2010
the devastating average
i don't know when my ego will recover from the crushing blow it was dealt today, but it's really got the rest of me in a serious bout of self doubt...
turns out i'm FS-average.
this google doc went around to the foreign service yahoo group, asking us to input our FSOT scores so's to compare. and whilst i already knew i'd passed by the hair of my chinny chin chin, today i was knocked completely off my pedastal when i discovered that my scores were "average".
average.
to a rational person, average might translate to good. i mean, half the people who took the test received lower scores than me, and only half did better (in a test with a 30% passage rate, no less). and even if it's the average of the best and brightest, it's the "average" that burns my poor little ego, a poor little ego that's spent most of its life being much closer to "exceptional".
the good news for me, i hope, is that once i get a handle on my ego (it is definitely in charge today), the humility will do us both a fair bit of good going into the OA. if we even get that far...
~k (and her ego)
turns out i'm FS-average.
this google doc went around to the foreign service yahoo group, asking us to input our FSOT scores so's to compare. and whilst i already knew i'd passed by the hair of my chinny chin chin, today i was knocked completely off my pedastal when i discovered that my scores were "average".
average.
to a rational person, average might translate to good. i mean, half the people who took the test received lower scores than me, and only half did better (in a test with a 30% passage rate, no less). and even if it's the average of the best and brightest, it's the "average" that burns my poor little ego, a poor little ego that's spent most of its life being much closer to "exceptional".
the good news for me, i hope, is that once i get a handle on my ego (it is definitely in charge today), the humility will do us both a fair bit of good going into the OA. if we even get that far...
~k (and her ego)
24 April 2010
fearing the fsoa
in the coming weeks, i'm likely to bore y'all to tears with the acronyms that increasingly gain more relevance in my life (and i'm fer reals going to have to start a cheat sheet at some point), not to mention the fear of this "interview" process in getting my dream job in a "public diplomacy cone".
FSOA = foreign service oral assessment. think that sounds like a big deal? well lemme tell you, it's a big fucking deal. a big scary one. i've begun my preparation, prior to finding out if i've even cleared the PNQs (personal narrative questions), because, well, because i'll find out mid-june if i cleared that hurdle and will likely be invited to the OA in july. and it's probably a good idea to give myself a few months to prepare, as opposed to a few weeks.
the good news is that i know why i had that teeth-falling-out dream the other night. my subconscious was a few days ahead of my ego in getting its arms around the magnitude of not just the OA, but how scary it is to want something so badly, to see my destiny waiting for me on the other side of miles of hurdles that seem so long, so high, so out of my control.
so, in the next few months, in anticipation of my FSOA, i need to prepare myself for the GE, SI, and CM. guess i should start with figuring out what the hell those mean...
~k
FSOA = foreign service oral assessment. think that sounds like a big deal? well lemme tell you, it's a big fucking deal. a big scary one. i've begun my preparation, prior to finding out if i've even cleared the PNQs (personal narrative questions), because, well, because i'll find out mid-june if i cleared that hurdle and will likely be invited to the OA in july. and it's probably a good idea to give myself a few months to prepare, as opposed to a few weeks.
the good news is that i know why i had that teeth-falling-out dream the other night. my subconscious was a few days ahead of my ego in getting its arms around the magnitude of not just the OA, but how scary it is to want something so badly, to see my destiny waiting for me on the other side of miles of hurdles that seem so long, so high, so out of my control.
so, in the next few months, in anticipation of my FSOA, i need to prepare myself for the GE, SI, and CM. guess i should start with figuring out what the hell those mean...
~k
23 April 2010
an end in torment
for weeks, i've been riveted by lawrence wright's the looming tower, an incredibly well-researched and even more impressively written (see pulitzer prize) account of the rise of islamic terrorism and al queda in particular. i've had nightmares, chewed my fingernails to the quick, and relived moments of terror that truly will live forever in infamy.
i learned far too much about osama bin laden, those who came before him (sayyid qutb, ramzi yousef), and their misplaced, irrational even, hatred of america. and the more i learned, the less i understood. men from an insular part of the world, fanatically religious, separated from women, politically and socially oppressed, uneducated: with no plan, no valid worldview, surrendering to god via martyrdom, and twisting the quran to suit their moral depravity, with eyes set on destroying america because who else is to blame for their woes...
and the worst part is that we knew all this, yet foolishly turned a blind eye, in underestimating the power in devotion to cause.
we let 9/11 happen.
after the uss cole bombing in the port of aden in yemen, just under a year before the world trade center crashed to ground zero, the fbi had everything it needed to know that a larger attack on american soil was in the works. all's it needed to link the impending disaster to those set on carrying it out was the information the cia wasn't sharing. and they knew the cia had the info they needed. and the cia knew too. but they didn't share because, well, because no one wanted its toes stepped on.
on 12 september 2001, the cia handed over everything that could have prevented 9/11 had they turned it over on 10 september 2001.
i relived 9/11 today. the emotion. the anger. the sadness. the helplessness. but this time, i did it knowing it could have been stopped, knowing that but for big egos at the top of agencies that exist to protect us, the looming tower would never have been written, those planes would have landed safely as scheduled, and the terrorists on board would have been picked up long before that infamous day was carried out.
and still i weep, and weep harder still. for as senseless as war seems, even the just kind i support, it makes even less sense knowing we waited too long, trusted too deeply in ignoble egos, lost too much, and gave too little to still be stuck in the graveyard of empires osama bin laden sought to draw us into...
~k
i learned far too much about osama bin laden, those who came before him (sayyid qutb, ramzi yousef), and their misplaced, irrational even, hatred of america. and the more i learned, the less i understood. men from an insular part of the world, fanatically religious, separated from women, politically and socially oppressed, uneducated: with no plan, no valid worldview, surrendering to god via martyrdom, and twisting the quran to suit their moral depravity, with eyes set on destroying america because who else is to blame for their woes...
and the worst part is that we knew all this, yet foolishly turned a blind eye, in underestimating the power in devotion to cause.
we let 9/11 happen.
after the uss cole bombing in the port of aden in yemen, just under a year before the world trade center crashed to ground zero, the fbi had everything it needed to know that a larger attack on american soil was in the works. all's it needed to link the impending disaster to those set on carrying it out was the information the cia wasn't sharing. and they knew the cia had the info they needed. and the cia knew too. but they didn't share because, well, because no one wanted its toes stepped on.
on 12 september 2001, the cia handed over everything that could have prevented 9/11 had they turned it over on 10 september 2001.
i relived 9/11 today. the emotion. the anger. the sadness. the helplessness. but this time, i did it knowing it could have been stopped, knowing that but for big egos at the top of agencies that exist to protect us, the looming tower would never have been written, those planes would have landed safely as scheduled, and the terrorists on board would have been picked up long before that infamous day was carried out.
and still i weep, and weep harder still. for as senseless as war seems, even the just kind i support, it makes even less sense knowing we waited too long, trusted too deeply in ignoble egos, lost too much, and gave too little to still be stuck in the graveyard of empires osama bin laden sought to draw us into...
~k
20 April 2010
the trouble with teeth in sleep
in light of the fact that most of my night terrors revolve around terrorists, being chased by monsters, and forcing myself to wake up just before freddy krueger plunges his knivey finger nails into my jugular, this latest sleep intrusion seems but a minor inconvenience. but i'll be goddammed if i'm not twisted into nine kindsa knots today after waking at 2am horrified that my teeth had fallen out.
seriously, i could go into the gritty details i remember spectacularly well (which likely make less sense on "paper" than the film that's been on replay in my brain all day), but the bottom line is that i dreamed my teeth were falling out, and i'm still reeling from the horror i felt at 2am.
i'm sure part of it's exhaustion, cuz it was near impossible to get back to sleep whilst so riled up. i'm sure part of it is type-a-insanity (i.e. "i wanna know NOW what it all means), and the rest is the confusion associated with why something as insignificant as a dream about my teeth falling out could have so much more of an impact on my day-psyche than being terrorized by the likes of freddy krueger.
and of course i googled it. apparently, this is the most commonly researched dream. freud would say it's punishment for masturbation (and i won't even go into what that says about freud), bible-thumpers think it has to do with me caring more about what others think than what god thinks (uh...not likely), others think i'm insecure or have trouble expressing myself (yeah, that's probable), or perhaps i'm "unprepared for the task at hand," whatever that is.
so... after my research and analysis, it turns out i still have no idea why i remain so stressed out about it or what the hell it means, but maybe it just means that it's time to go to the dentist...
~k
seriously, i could go into the gritty details i remember spectacularly well (which likely make less sense on "paper" than the film that's been on replay in my brain all day), but the bottom line is that i dreamed my teeth were falling out, and i'm still reeling from the horror i felt at 2am.
i'm sure part of it's exhaustion, cuz it was near impossible to get back to sleep whilst so riled up. i'm sure part of it is type-a-insanity (i.e. "i wanna know NOW what it all means), and the rest is the confusion associated with why something as insignificant as a dream about my teeth falling out could have so much more of an impact on my day-psyche than being terrorized by the likes of freddy krueger.
and of course i googled it. apparently, this is the most commonly researched dream. freud would say it's punishment for masturbation (and i won't even go into what that says about freud), bible-thumpers think it has to do with me caring more about what others think than what god thinks (uh...not likely), others think i'm insecure or have trouble expressing myself (yeah, that's probable), or perhaps i'm "unprepared for the task at hand," whatever that is.
so... after my research and analysis, it turns out i still have no idea why i remain so stressed out about it or what the hell it means, but maybe it just means that it's time to go to the dentist...
~k
18 April 2010
24 hours in vegas
yesterday afternoon, after spending the morning nursing a hangover the likes of which i've not known for days a plenty, i hopped a flight to vegas with six of my k street friends. for those of you who live lives absent lobbyists, you should know that they are some of the coolest, funnest, most interesting, lively people to ever walk the earth. fun is not only guaranteed when hanging out with lobbyists, but taken to a new level. so just think about what vegas must be like with the k street crowd...
we took a limo from the airport (awesomeness!) to the palms, and after dingdong debbie at the check-in desk finally figured out how to check seven people into four rooms, we walked the 4-mile hike to the other palms to get to our bad-ass rooms!
but picture this elevator ride. two of us were women (see young, fun, _hot_ women). the rest of us were old, white, married dudes, and whilst i love them dearly, they might, at first glance, seem a wee on the dorky side. anyway, we were all in the elevator with a hottie guy about my age, and when our boys departed the elevator on the 28th floor, young hot guy turned to my friend and me and said, "really? those guy?"
we were momentarily speechless. but it was fucking brilliant. and my girlfriend and i will laugh about it until the end of time. "really? those guys?"
for the next twelve hours, we had a BLAST with "those guys"! we drank entirely too much, ate entirely too much, and lost ourselves at the craps tables (where incidentally, some hot ass spent the whole night blowing me kisses and making somewhat inappropriate (albeit not unwelcome) comments about my own hotness). getting up this morning, knowing a flight was imminent, was, we'll say challenging; one whiff of the wrong scent and i woulda tossed my cookies from here to high hell.
but i'm home now, and walking out of LAX -from anywhere- remains one of the great joys of my life... all-in-all, the weekend was well worth the pain i feel today, and the attention from the fairer sex went a long way in my rejection recovery process.
~k
we took a limo from the airport (awesomeness!) to the palms, and after dingdong debbie at the check-in desk finally figured out how to check seven people into four rooms, we walked the 4-mile hike to the other palms to get to our bad-ass rooms!
but picture this elevator ride. two of us were women (see young, fun, _hot_ women). the rest of us were old, white, married dudes, and whilst i love them dearly, they might, at first glance, seem a wee on the dorky side. anyway, we were all in the elevator with a hottie guy about my age, and when our boys departed the elevator on the 28th floor, young hot guy turned to my friend and me and said, "really? those guy?"
we were momentarily speechless. but it was fucking brilliant. and my girlfriend and i will laugh about it until the end of time. "really? those guys?"
for the next twelve hours, we had a BLAST with "those guys"! we drank entirely too much, ate entirely too much, and lost ourselves at the craps tables (where incidentally, some hot ass spent the whole night blowing me kisses and making somewhat inappropriate (albeit not unwelcome) comments about my own hotness). getting up this morning, knowing a flight was imminent, was, we'll say challenging; one whiff of the wrong scent and i woulda tossed my cookies from here to high hell.
but i'm home now, and walking out of LAX -from anywhere- remains one of the great joys of my life... all-in-all, the weekend was well worth the pain i feel today, and the attention from the fairer sex went a long way in my rejection recovery process.
~k
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