Life

All posts tagged Life

Here I Go Again

Published October 9, 2017 by Malia

When I started this blog in 2012, it was because the year before I had moved 500 miles away from home to North Dakota. It was my way of letting people back home know I was okay, and hadn’t completely lost my mind. See, if you move to North Dakota, and claim that you actually love it there, people 500 miles away who dislike the frigid north, tend to wonder about your sanity.

I did love North Dakota, which came a complete surprise to me. I was running away from home, because the last years of my life had been mostly a giant pile of dog poo. Sometimes it was literal dog poo, but I digress. North Dakota was the only safe place available to me to run away to, so I ran.

I moved home from North Dakota at the end of 2012, and tried to keep writing regularly. Over the last few years, I got married, tried being a stay at home wife, went back to work, filled the house with pets, and tried to figure out what the mystery pain in my tummy is. Over the last three years I haven’t written much. In fact, lately I’ve not written at all.

I need to start writing again. See, life has continued on, even though I’ve been less forthcoming as of late. Life has been exhausting, sometimes scary, sometimes frustrating, and mostly overwhelming.

So, for better or worse I return to here. I feel the need to try to make sense of the overwhelming and to share cute puppy pictures while I’m at it.

Say “Hi” to Gracie, my 11 year old puppy!

The Dentist Curse

Published May 7, 2014 by Malia

I’ve not written in a couple of weeks because there hasn’t been much to talk about.  The most interesting parts of my life are work and the boy.

I would write about work, but there’s this whole “HIPPA” thing that I don’t want to be in violation of.  So, all the entertaining/irritating/funny/wtf moments that happen there are going to continue to remain confidential.

I could write about the boy, but I’m relatively certain most people do not want to read yet another post talking about how fantastically wonderful he is.  The fact that he puts Gravity Falls on the DVR for me so I can get caught up, and then willingly watches it with me (even though he’s all caught up) kind of makes me melt inside.  And that’s just the tiniest tip of the iceberg of how awesome he is to me.  He actually listens to me, even when I’m rambling on and on about something completely ridiculous.  He was even willing to go as the Dread Pirate Roberts for Free Comic Book Day just so I could go as a princess (I put in a showing as a very brunette Buttercup.  Realized to my horror, after the fact, that I was doing a better Sansa Stark cosplay than a Buttercup cosplay).  I’d be lying if I said I’m not feeling some very deep emotions regarding the boy.  But like I said, I doubt people really want to read another post about this kind, gentle, patient, sweet gentleman.  (In case you think I’m laying it on really thick, I’m barely doing the man justice.  He really is amazing.)

So, apart from those two things, life has been pretty quiet.  However, yesterday something finally fell into my lap that I thought, I should totally write about this.  See, yesterday I learned that I am apparently cursed when it comes to my dentist.  To begin, let me give some background information.

Back in 2008, I had a dental emergency, and found myself visiting a new dentist (the one I had gone to previously was absolutely awful).  The new dentist, we’ll call him Dr. G, was brilliant.  From then until 2010, I saw him anytime I had a teeth emergency, and he was always awesome.  Always worked with me and my budget, and did everything in his power to not make it such a terrifying experience.

In 2010, I had a tooth that needed work, and went to see him.  He came up with a treatment plan, and I needed to save some money before I could have the work done.  When I went back a month later, I learned to my horror, Dr. G had left the practice.  Another dentist ended up completing the work.  He was nice enough, but just not as good of a dentist.

In 2012, my parents needed to go to the dentist, and they actually found out that Dr. G had moved to another practice in town.  They went to see him and all was well.

When I had to have my root canal, back in March, Dr. G was who I went to see.  He did an amazing job (the root canal was over with before I even realized it had been officially started).  I had an appointment 2 weeks ago to have the temporary crown removed and the permanent one placed.  The day of my appointment, I showed up to the clinic, and was informed that Dr. G was out of town and Dr. S would be seeing me.  I was nervous about this.  Dr. S did a quick check and found that Dr. G did his crown prep differently.  Dr. S told me that since I wasn’t having any problem with the temporary, it would probably be better to wait until Dr. G was back in town to have the permanent applied.  He was concerned that since his way of setting the crown was different, I might start having problems with the permanent wanting to come loose.  I was okay with this, and really glad for the honesty.

Yesterday, I got a call to remind me about the appointment I had for today.  The call started with me being told, “Um…Dr. G has left our practice with no warning, so you’ll be seeing Dr. S.”  Fortunately, Dr. S had called Dr. G and found out how best to place the permanent.

So, if you’ve managed to follow all that, you’ll see that I have managed to have the same dentist bail on me twice now.  The boy referred to the situation as a sign.  And I’m afraid I have to acknowledge that he is probably right.  I’m going to just have to let Super Dentist go bye-bye (he really was the most amazing dentist I’ve ever encountered.  Even my parents would agree and they’ve had loads more dental work done than I have).  Fortunately, I really liked Dr. S, so here’s hoping he doesn’t quit the practice before he’s supposed to do my filling.

Otherwise, I’ll have to assume I’m cursed…

It’s Not Worth More Than Life

Published April 3, 2014 by Malia

I have a lot of things I’m scared of.  Snakes, spiders, snakes, heights, snakes, anything in a scary movie, snakes…well, you get the idea.  However, the two all time scariest moments of my life actually took place while I was driving (and neither involved snakes).  One, of course, is when I went off the road in a blizzard.  Granted, I didn’t get scared until after being rescued, and I realized that I should have died.  The all time scariest moment came in December of 2009.

It was noon on Saturday, December 5th, 2009, I was with my parents, and I was driving on West Center (a main road here in Omaha).  Being the noon hour, traffic was heavy.  We were sitting in a long line of traffic waiting for the light at 120th & W. Center to change.  I remember looking up in my rear view mirror and seeing a car coming up behind me.  I could tell that it wasn’t slowing down, and even though my foot was already on the brake (because we were stopped), I put as much pressure into holding the brake down as I could.  Right before the car slammed into the back of my car, I saw that the driver was just chatting away on her cell phone, completely oblivious to the fact that she was about to cause an accident.  The impact came, our car was pushed up into the car in front of us, and then unexpectedly the car behind us hit us a second time.  It took a moment, but when no more impacts came, it was time to see what had happened.

Turns out, the woman who hit us wasn’t the only one on her phone not paying attention.  There was another woman in the car behind the woman who rear ended us, and she too was on her cell phone.  You read that right, both women were talking on their cell phones not paying a whit of attention to anything.  Not only that, but it ended up being a paramedic who witnessed what happened who called 9-1-1.  I didn’t have a phone at the time, and the gentleman who’s truck I got pushed into didn’t have one either.  Neither of the two women who caused the accident bothered to ever use their phones to call 9-1-1.

Miraculously, no one was killed, or injured; which considering the fact that both women were going at least 45 mph when they hit is pretty amazing.  (Although, the stress of the event triggered a nightmare medical situation with my mom over the next week, but that’s a story for another post.)

Ever since that nightmare day, I’ve been very anti using your cell phone to text or call while driving.  That accident should never have happened.  So, you can imagine the rage I felt yesterday when I got on Facebook, and saw one of my acquaintances had written that when a guy honked and shook his finger at her for texting and driving, she proceeded to flip him off and continue texting at the same time.  And to make it really great, she hash-tagged it “multitasking.”

Cue Seth and Amy, it’s time for “Really?”.  Really?  REALLY??????

Last time I checked driving is not the time to be “multitasking.”  A car is an incredibly dangerous weapon when used irresponsibly.  And yes, I consider texting and driving to be just as irresponsible as talking on the cell phone and driving.  If you don’t care about your own life, show respect and care for other people’s lives.  People in the cars around you are human beings.  Every single driver is someone’s daughter or son.  Every single passenger is someone’s daughter or son.  This isn’t “The Sims” where you can just recreate the character should Death come knocking.  There is no pause button, and the game doesn’t reset just because someone died.   Those other drivers don’t deserve to have their lives taken away or messed up badly because you don’t have the patience to wait until you’ve reached your destination to use your phone.

At the end of the day, life is too valuable to destroy so recklessly and irresponsibly.

I’m Grateful and Rageful

Published November 28, 2013 by Malia

I’ll get to the rage in a moment.  First, what I’m thankful for.

1.  Family.  Good times or bad, I love that I have a close family that is very supportive of each other.

2.  My excellent friends.  I’ve been very blessed with five wonderful women that I consider to be very dear friends.  Each one knows me, faults and all, and still lets me be part of their lives.

3.  My job.  A year ago, I never would have guessed that I was just weeks away from starting a job I truly love.  A job that I gladly go to, and that I truly enjoy.  Also, I have a really fantastic supervisor, and I’d be really lost without her.

4.  My love of reading, and the easy access to an almost unlimited supply of books that there is.

5.  The roof over my head.

6.  A working vehicle.

7.  Snapple.  Silly, I know, but it’s quite yummy.

8.  Doctor Who.  I love this “kid’s” show.  It’s smart, funny, and is something I can share with my family and friends.

9.  I’m generally healthy, and have much to live for and look forward to in this life.

Okay, so, it’s not so much rage as irritation.  Tomorrow is Black Friday.  I understand the theory behind the day.  It makes sense that businesses want to try to get in the black before the year ends.  However, and yes I know I’m not the only one saying this, it has gone from out of control to complete absurdity.  It used to be just one psycho day, but now it’s almost a full week.  How is  this okay?  Plus, it seems that there’s at least one death every year in connection with Black Friday shopping.  People’s lives should be of more value.  What does that say about this culture when possessions are held in higher esteem than a human being?  Don’t misunderstand me, I’m as greedy as the next person, but even I have my limits.

So, if you’re going to take part in the madness, remember that your fellow shoppers are human beings.  Remember that the people working in the stores aren’t making very much, aren’t getting to spend time with their loved ones (and have likely missed most and/or all of Thanksgiving), and being rude to them isn’t going to make things go any better for you.

Pillow Talk

Published January 24, 2013 by Malia

My bed is cold.  Every.  Single.  Night.  My bed is lonely.  Every.  Single.  Night.  I’m surrounded by pillows, but you know what the problem with pillows is?  Pillows never ask you how your day was.  Pillows just lay there in various forms of flatness, and are silent.  In fact, if my pillows start talking, I’m pretty sure I have bigger problems than just having a cold, lonely bed.  My point is, on some levels being in my late 20’s and single truly has it’s downsides.

Now, don’t misunderstand me, I greatly enjoy some parts of being single.  I love that if I want to go hang with friends, I have no worries about if I have plans already, or if my friends will accept my boyfriend into our group.  I love that I can be pretty selfish when it comes to my money.  If I want to buy a book or movie or video game (although, I’m pretty sure most guys don’t care if their girls buy video games) and I have the money, it’s no big deal.

Overall, though, as the years pass and I remain single it tends to get more wearing.  I just want someone to share in this adventure of life with.

To this end I was having a conversation with two really close friends a few weeks ago, and one friend asked me if I had a list of what I was looking for.  I had a mental list, but afterwards, I realized that I’ve never written down that list before.  Then earlier this week, as I was praying that God would bring that special someone into a friend’s life, I realized that I’ve never actually prayed that God would bring someone into my life.  So, I immediately texted one of my 3 very bestest friends and asked her if she would pray with me about this.  I really don’t believe I was created to be alone.  I believe that I am alone right now, because there are lessons I am in the process of learning.  However, the desire to be married has yet to be removed (and crazy as it sounds, I’ve prayed it would be), so I’m changing up how I pray.  I rarely ask for help from anyone (even God), which is pretty wrong.  It’s not that I’m too proud, I’m kind of backwards. I don’t want to bug people or God with my needs or wants, because I feel they’re so paltry compared to people with real needs.

Anyway, since I’m not desiring my pillows to develop voices, and I’m not wanting to be known to my “niece” as the crazy cat lady, here’s my list of what I’m looking for:

1.  Not just a fan, but completely on fire for Jesus.

2.  Loves pets; sans bugs, snakes, and spiders.

3.  I don’t care if he’s a sports fan, but he needs to be okay with the fact that I am not, nor will I probably ever be a sports fan.  Also, if I do watch sports, I rarely cheer wildly.  However, I totally love the Olympics, and he will have no problem getting me to sit and watch those games.

4.  Enjoys musicals.

5.  Loves movies.  Going to the movies is something I really love doing, and I would hope that I’d be able to be with someone who not only enjoys the whole going to the theater experience, but is willing to make entertaining comments throughout.

6.  Loves British t.v. shows, especially all things “Who.”  I have always had a soft spot for things produced by the BBC.  Generally, they’re quite a bit better than most things on American television.

7.  Loves books.  Hmmm…maybe this should be a bit higher on my list.  Yeah, it probably belongs up there as number 3.

8.  Family relationships should be important.  I’m pretty much it when it comes to parent care on my side of the family, so he’s going to have to be okay with this, and willing to help me.  Also, it’s super important to me, despite my age, that he ask for my father’s permission to date/court/marry me.

9.  Wants to travel, visit museums, go to the zoo, see the world, and take pictures of all of it.  I admit I’m not a great photographer, but I really love to take pictures.  I want to be with someone who enjoys travel and photography as much as I do.

10.  Be okay with the kid thing.

Let me explain number 10.  (And yes, I’ve kind of talked about this before, and yes, it may be slightly graphic and uncomfortable to read.)

Last fall, when everything went really south, health-wise, I found myself sitting, facing a doctor who was trying to figure out how to deliver unpleasant news.  She had to tell me that it was highly unlikely that I would ever be able to have children.  To this day, I don’t envy doctors who have to tell women this.  Fortunately, for her, I didn’t go into hysterics or any of that sort of reaction.  In fact, I pretty much had already guessed.  I’d known for a long time that certain parts didn’t work right.  Parts that are required to carry a baby through a pregnancy.  Her telling me, just confirmed what I already suspected.  Now, I’ve never been wild about having kids, but I certainly thought having one might not be too bad.  I’m okay (mostly, but believe me there have been some intense discussions with mom and with God regarding the fact that there are 15 year old’s who sleep with everything and get knocked up, and yet I try to be a good kid, and not only do I have this whole nightmare weight situation, but I also have a body that doesn’t understand the basics of how to work right) with all of this, but recently I’ve found myself wondering if this will be a huge check-mark against me for guys.  It seems that a lot of guys, even good guys, are obsessed with the idea of producing babies.  I guess they need to know that their sperm can swim in order to feel like a “real” man.  I figure that if I there’s someone out there who can love me, knowing that I can’t have babies (unless a miracle takes place), then they truly love me, and don’t just view me as breeding stock.

11. Doesn’t take himself too seriously, or say mean-spirited things, thinking he’s being funny.

12.   Loves, respects, and treats me as a partner, not just someone who’s supposed to clean and cook.  In return, I guarantee that I will love, respect, honor, and be loyal.  I’m looking for a best friend.

And there you have it.  I know that we can’t always have what we want, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to be specific.

I don’t care, but maybe I do?

Published December 7, 2012 by Malia

I’m going home this weekend for one night.  There is actually a logical explanation for why I’m going to make a 1,000 mile round trip in approximately 34 hours.  Suffice it to say, it’s a good thing I’m going, even though it’s for one night, because it’ll allow me to take a load of belongings home.

Home.

What a mixture of emotions that thought conjures up.

I’m both excited and terrified of going.  I have such wonderful pipe dream plans of things I hope to accomplish, and yet I find myself obsessing over the fact that I’m going home with no job.  Yes, there are a few places that have indicated interest in possibly employing me (which is more than I had the last time I was unemployed), but there’s such a terror in the unknown.

I keep telling myself that I’m a strong young woman, and I don’t care a fig what everyone else thinks.  This is progress.  Even though a small part of me does care, I’ve at least reached a point where I can say out loud “I don’t care” and 99% mean it.  I think no matter how much we don’t care, secretly we all somewhat have that 1% of desire for approval from others.

I am truly looking forward to seeing my “niece” more than once every 4 months.  Babies grow fast.  I always knew that, but it’s really hitting home with me now that I have this little girl in my life.  She’s so precious, and I just melt when I’m around her.  That’s never really happened for me before with a baby.  I grew up an only child, and babies just weren’t a big part of my life.  As I’ve gotten older, I’ve shied away from being around babies.  I think this is mainly due to the fact that when I see a baby, it hurts something deep inside.  It’s this reminder that much as I desire to be a wife and mother (not because I’m wishing I was a 50’s housewife, but because I want to love and nurture), to this point those are things I’ve been denied.  I’ve avoided babies trying to protect myself, and it’s not just babies.

I’ve come to realize that in the last 10 years I’ve built up quite the wall around my heart.  The building has been slow going.  At first, whenever something hurt, or I was rejected, I’d put in another brick.  Then, I began ending things before they could hurt me, which meant there were more bricks being placed around my heart.  I did try, a few times, to take a chance on various things, but all ended in disaster, and  I went from using bricks to welding a metal shield around my heart.  When I was home at Thanksgiving, and I saw baby girl, I realized just how much I’ve sealed my heart off.

I’m going to try, very hard, to remove the shield, and undo the bricks.  I don’t want to be a heartless old hag.  I want to love and be loved.  I want to be able to love and accept myself, even with the laundry list of faults I know I have.  I’m not going to be perfect at it, but I’m going give it my best, and that’s all I can hope to do.

Dear Blog,

Published October 25, 2012 by Malia

I’ve been neglecting you.  I’m sorry.  I’ve been so wrapped up in my thoughts and emotions and general madness that is my life, I’ve not spent any time working on you.  This isn’t really fair to you.

The truth is, I think I’ve been hiding from you.  I didn’t want you to see how much I’ve been struggling or how sad I’ve felt.  I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.  It’s silly, though.  You know, as well as I do, that life’s not fair, and sometimes it seems easier to just hide.

So, I’m back.  Good, bad, or downright ugly, daily posts are coming back.  How else will you know what’s going on with me, my weight, and the things I’m so easily entertained by?

Until tomorrow…or later today…whichever comes first…

-Malia