Monday, June 27, 2011

She's only happy in the sun

As I was listening to “She’s only happy in the sun” on my way to work this morning, I decided I would blog about what’s going on.

Lately, every night when I lay down in my bed I have the overwhelming urge to throw all my clothes in suitcases/laundry baskets/etc, gather all of my important junk, and get in my car and drive. In fact, one day, don’t be surprised when it turns up that I’ve run far, far away. Lol. I can’t even describe it. Maybe…discontent??

For those of you that didn’t already know, I’ve quit my grad program. I know, I know, believe me I’ve heard it… “You’re ruining your future” or better yet “What are you going to do now?!” Amazingly, my mom wasn’t too upset. In fact, I ran it past her the night that it occurred to me at 1 a.m. that it just wasn’t for me and she understood. My dad…Well, when I told him (a week after I'd already quit), panic washed over his face and he spit out “Well, what are you going to do?!” To that…I have no clue. BUT, and a most-important but, I would like this to be recorded…I made a 4.0 before quitting FSU. So, no, it wasn’t my grades that caused me to quit school. I just honestly couldn’t see pouring an un-Godly amount of money into a degree that I no longer saw myself using. For those of y’all that don’t know…Some library policies are RIDICULOUS. And as a side-note, I had the HARDEST time trying to get advisors to get back with me, to answer my questions…and I just kept thinking “this is YOUR job, this is what YOU get paid for.” Don’t worry, when I withdrew from the program…several at FSU got an earful...including the Dean. And I got several apologetic emails. Too little, too late.

But this wasn’t my reason for writing this blog. I’ve always felt like I would spend my life here. I love small towns, and I do love the people here…but I feel like staying here is slowly killing me. After some of the ordeals I’ve been through the past couple of years, it’s hard even driving to work without having a flood of memories cause a lump in my throat.

So, in “summation,” I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life. No clue. I have no idea where I would want to go. But I DO know that if I don’t get out of here soon my butt will be headed to Vista.

If anyone has an idea of anyone that would like to run away with me, let me know :) I’d be happy not to go it alone.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011


Me: “Our dentist is weird, Mom.”

Mom: “How so?”

Me: “He wiggles my jaw when he’s putting in a shot.”

Mom: “I’ve had other dentists do that, too. I like when they do that. That way you don’t feel the pinch from the shot.”

Me: “Yeah, but I bet you’ve never had one wiggle your jaw while saying ‘I’m an alcoholic. I’m an alcoholic.’”

The wealthy may call it “eclectic.” I like to call it “disturbing.” To walk into my dentist office, one would expect to find a tarot card reader and a crystal ball. Just reading this, you don’t get the full picture. There are horse statues jumping out (teeth showing) of flower pots. A witch head on the wall. A mermaid hanging from the ceiling. And as I walk out of the bathroom, it never fails, an Austin Powers life-size cut-out is there to scare me to death. The real doozie is the stuffed cat hanging on the wall with the hair standing up on it’s back and his teeth shining—I’d better explain that I’m not referring to a stuffed toy, I’m referring to something that looks like it may have been real and maybe had made a visit to the taxidermist.

Anyways, back to my story…

So, last week I had to go have a filling put in. My mom had her dental work done before mine, so the dentist had already spoke with her. This was his greeting to me as I walked back to the room.

Him: “So you’re named after Princess Aleta on the Prince Valiant comics.”

Me: “Yes. Kind of. Wow, I’m amazed you caught that. My mama also knew a lady named Aleta, too.”

Him: “Yep, I talked to her about that before you came in. She said they were thinking about naming you ‘Angelita?’ Thank goodness they didn’t. There are a lot of Italian porn stars named Angelita.”


I would also like to say here that I HATE when Dentists try to maintain a conversation when they have their hands, their assistant’s hands, and several dental tools in your mouth. This was our next conversation:

Him: “Where do you work?”

Me: (mufflegargled) “Gah-L-cress Counee Jernel”

Him: “Oh, that’s neat. Has anyone ever stolen from your office?”

Me: “Whaaa? I dun thhinkkk sooo.” (and there goes the slurping tool)

Him: “Well, they probably have. You probably just didn’t notice.”


This man is one odd duck. But all peculiarity aside, he actually is very nice. So, we’ll see.

(Side note: We left our LAST dentist office because the dentist told me as I was leaving “You have a beautiful face, you just need to lose some weight.” Needless—and proud—to say, my mama had it out with both the receptionist and the dentist that day, informing them that it was not their place to be throwing out comments like that. This dentist had also slapped my sister across the leg because she had worn cowboy boots to her appointment. Insane.)

I’m thinking, between the conversation and the stuffed cat, mom’s dental plan might throw us in the hands of neurotic dentists.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Aleta the Fraidy Cat

For those of you that have me listed as a friend on facebook, you may have seen a status regarding this a month ago. Recently, I set off to find out a name for my fear. Knowing that they have a vast amount of named fears, I figured I would be able to find a name for mine. What is this fear, you might ask? I have a fear of seeing movies that stir any emotion other than laughter. Random, I know, but it’s true. Last year at my birthday, we had first planned to see Charlie St. Cloud….That is, until I had a near panic attack after reading the storyline of the movie a week before my birthday. We wound up seeing Ramona and Beezus (very, very cute movie, btw). Yes, yes, I know…I’m a complete spaz. I blame it on not wanting to cry, or not wanting to get wrapped up in a movie. Yes, comedies are all I wish to see.

Anyways, back to the point, I set off to find a name. I looked at several websites to no avail. But I did find some fears that applied to me. And I did stumble across some fears worth mentioning.

Agoraphobia- Fear of open spaces or of being in crowded, public places like markets. Fear of leaving a safe place.

--After reading Paula Deen’s memoir, I totally diagnosed myself with this…However, now, I’m thinking mine is just more of fear of the unfamiliar. (i.e. me feeling the need to run for the nearest exit at a friend’s child’s birthday).

Anuptaphobia- Fear of staying single

--Enough said. Although, I will add that I have lessened my standards to “mammal” at this point… with a few exceptions (alcoholics, drug addicts, guys that I would still have to mother, and of course, nascar fans) LOL. As of late, there are some very nice women wanting to set me up with their sons…the problem? One boy has a DUI, and is currently jobless due to the DUI, or the other is annoying as heck and has no ambition in life. What. The. Heck?

Scopophobia or Scoptophobia- Fear of being seen or stared at.

--Didn’t realize until recently how much this bothered me. If I’m in conversation with someone, of course eye contact is fine. However, when it’s dead silent, and I’m being stared at, it kind of freaks me out. I think “Dear Lord, do I have a booger? Do I have something in my teeth?”

Iatrophobia- Fear of going to the doctor or of doctors.

--I’ve blogged before about this. I’m trying to figure out how I can get my prescriptions refilled and still wiggle out of going to my annual check-up.

Here are the fears that just struck me as funny (and my commentary).

Genuphobia - Fear of knees. (…how would this work? Don’t look down?)

Aulophobia- Fear of flutes. (…?)

Arachibutyrophobia- Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth (I’m amazed this one has a name)

Bromidrosiphobia or Bromidrophobia- Fear of body smells. (I have a dear friend that is always concerned with whether or not she smells).

Brontophobia- Fear of thunder and lightning. (Me, circa 1994).

Cathisophobia- Fear of sitting. (Lord help, my feet would get tired)

Cypridophobia or Cypriphobia or Cyprianophobia or Cyprinophobia - Fear of prostitutes or venereal disease. (I’ve had a friend that was a complete psycho, and he mentioned this a time or two… When I saw it, the first thing that popped into my mind was the phrase “That poor girl has Gona-herp-a-syphillis.”)

Dutchphobia- Fear of the Dutch.

Helminthophobia- Fear of being infested with worms.

Levophobia- Fear of things to the left side of the body.

Linonophobia- Fear of string. (again, …..?)

Novercaphobia- Fear of your step-mother.

Omphalophobia- Fear of belly buttons.

Peladophobia- Fear of bald people. (hehehe)

Pteronophobia- Fear of being tickled by feathers.

Sesquipedalophobia- Fear of long words. ( “Don’t use big words around me!” Me- “I just used the word ‘polygamy’”…)

Walloonphobia- Fear of the Walloons.

The very best of the best, which I also didn’t find a name for, was my good friend that was afraid of midgets (or vertically challenged people, for all of you politically correct folks out there) and mentally handicapped people.