I have some frets to vent. They are all small. I sense Paul has reached his limit for small-fret-listening, and yet I still have fretting to do, and so here we are.

I am supposed to get my hair cut tomorrow, after months spent REALLY REALLY wanting to cut it shorter and being VERY tempted to just cut off big chunks of it myself and FINALLY getting around to making the phone call and then LONGING for the appointment to be sooner and waiting impatiently for it to arrive. I was thinking of something between chin and shoulder. And now I am chickening out. I’ve had my hair longish for a long enough time now that I am not sure what I DO with it when it is shorter. Also I am nervous she will hurt the new piercing. I worked myself into a very silly panic about the whole thing, where I was spinning around thinking “AAAAGGGGHH the embarrassment of cancelling!!!” vs. “AAAAAGGGGHHH not sure I want it shorter!!!”—until I realized I could just go to the appointment and have her take an inch off and avoid BOTH unpleasant outcomes. Now I feel less panicky but am back to thinking, “But should I get it cut shorter? I’ve really been sick of washing it and brushing it and dealing with it lately. And it’ll grow back out, if I regret it. But I don’t know what I do with it when I don’t twist it into a quick bun.” I wish hair-growth were more adjustable, so that it could stay put when we have a great cut, or grow ultra-fast if we regret one.

My new piercing is itchy. It is a little bit swollen and a little bit pink, and I have been searching online for information about infection, but it is not meeting the standards for that: it looks as if this is “irritation” rather than “infection.” The information I’m finding is soothingly condescending, like “You have to realize you have put a foreign object into your body, and your body’s job is to get rid of it. Have patience and give your body time to adjust.” But this itchy tenderness is making me even less want a hair cut: I’ve been pulling my hair way away from the piercing, and if it’s shorter I have to re-figure-out all my ways of doing that. (I can always just have her take an inch off. I can always just have her take an inch off. It will grow back. It will grow back.)

My weight keeps going up. I don’t really want to talk about it more than that. I just want to let you know that that is one of my fret clouds right now.

I’m taking the two older boys with me on a trip to see my parents, and the fretting about air travel has begun. What if the check-in takes forever. What if we miss our connection. What if it’s so tight that we have to do one of those panicked-dashes-for-the-gate AND we lose the earlier-boarding-for-a-better-seat we paid extra for and we all end up in middle seats in separate rows. What if I accidentally bring something I’m not supposed to bring. What if they don’t believe me that my 6’3″ child is a minor, and they demand to see his ID. What if I forget something. Soothing techniques: Remembering it has all gone fine in the past, even when things have gone wrong. Remembering that anything I might accidentally forget is almost certainly something I can re-purchase. Remembering that I always get all worked up, and then when I’m actually traveling I wonder why I got so worked up when it’s not really that big a deal. Adding “student ID” and “copy of birth certificate” to list.

I have a lot of errands to do before I go. Some of them are things I need to acquire for the trip or handle for the trip; others are things I need to do/acquire for the household I’ll be leaving behind. I tend to get overly worked up about both lists, feeling as if all those things MUST be done or LORD HELP US ALL. When actually, Paul could go to the store for milk, and I could buy saline in my parents’ town; and if it REALLY came to it, I could pay $1/pill for Dramamine at the airport.

There. I think that’s all. I sit ready to listen to your fret-venting now, if you like.

*runs up you you, panting heavily, and grips your upper arm*: DID YOU KNOW YOU COULD JUST BUY EAR-PIERCING EARRINGS ON AMAZON?? FOR HARDLY ANY MONEY??

I waited until my order arrived to tell you about it, because it felt as if it could not be the case that I would buy a 12-pack of assorted ear-piercing earrings for about a dollar a pair and have them be, like, actually the same earrings they pierce earlobes with at thirty bucks a double-pop. But now I have seen it with my own eyes. (In fact, you can also buy an ear-piercing gun, but NO THANK YOU, I’M ALL SET.)

I wanted ear-piercing earrings for MULTIPLE REASONS:

1. Elizabeth wants to change her earrings about twice a year, so I like to get her earrings she can just leave in all the time

2. I am the same way about my upper-lobe piercings: I just like to leave a pair of earrings in all the time without taking them out or changing them

3. In 6-9 months I will be able to change my cartilage piercing, and I will want something very surgical-steely for that

I have little mini gold studs I wear in my upper-lobe piercings, and because “piercing is free, just buy the earrings,” and because I didn’t realize I could buy locking-back surgical-steel earrings anywhere other than a piercing place, I paid THIRTY DOLLARS for those earrings (I did not need another set of piercings, just smaller studs than I’d had my ears pierced with). Now I find the EXACT SAME ONES for slightly over a dollar a pair. This makes the whole thing seem like a rip-off. Which is silly, because all along it has NOT been free piercing, it has been $30 (or whatever) for piercing-including-earrings. But they SAY it is $30 for just the earrings, and I am very irritated by irritating marketing ploys. And I am so annoyed that they followed right through with that ploy and actually did charge me $30 for just the earrings.

Anyway! I am sorry, I am so wound up with excitement, I am not composing this post in an organized fashion.

What happened was this: I was writing the post about my fresh new cartilage piercing, and I wanted to find a picture that illustrated what I meant by “non-bezel-set,” because I’m not sure what that other kind of setting is called (I would call it “regular,” maybe). And the hits I got for images of ear-piercing earrings included some from items listed on Amazon, like this one, that looked VERY VERY MUCH like the earrings I’d been offered at my recent piercing session:

(image from Amazon.com)

Surgical Steel Ear Piercing Studs 12 Pairs Mixed Colors White Metal

And so I clicked through, and I read the details, and I read the reviews, and with hope and disbelief I ordered three sets: the silver-looking bezel-set ones above, the same basic deal in gold-looking metal, and a 12-pack of mini gold studs. And they arrived, and they appear to be FOR REAL. Behold!

There is perforation between each pair of earrings, so you can tear off just one set. You could give a few pairs in her favorite colors to a niece with recently-pierced ears, and keep the rest for yourself!

They have the sharp points and the locking backs. They look identical to the ear-piercing earrings I’ve bought before (for THIRTY DOLLARS A PAIR). They are glorious. I love them. I am so happy.

This is what the backs of the packages look like (blue is what’s on the back of the two sets of colored stones; red is what’s on the back of the gold studs):

I am especially pleased with the 12-pack of mini gold studs (2mm instead of 4mm like the usual piercing studs). I’ve been wearing mine for so many years that the plating has mostly worn off and they look silver, but DARNED if I was paying another $30! Now I have TWELVE PAIRS, all shining and golden! But those are also the ones I’m most nervous about, because they are a different brand than the others, and they are the only one with a review saying they irritated the reviewer’s ears so she wondered if they were not surgical steel as advertised. Well! We will see!

Another set I considered but decided against is this one: it has only six pairs, and includes duplicates from the other sets—but it has stars, hearts, and pearls. I also considered this set, which is what I was originally looking for when I set out to find a picture of what I meant by “non-bezel-set”/”regular” (and here they are in silver-color). Turns out it’s called “prong style.”

I was trying to make room in the filing cabinet, and I found a folder labeled School. In that folder were some test results I had no idea I’d kept. Back in college, I changed my major about six times the first year, and finally at the suggestion of my sixth advisor went to the Career Center to do some vocational testing. Here is the result of a test that is apparently called the Strong Interest Inventory of the Strong Vocational Interest Blank. It is supposed to determine which of the six vocational types (Realistic, Investigative, Artistic, Social, Enterprising, and Conventional) a person is interested in.

NONE strong interests! That seems about right.

There’s a second page that divides occupations into lists, sorting them by how similar I am to people in those occupations. I have no matches in the “very similar” category. In the “similar” category, I have six occupations: photographer, lawyer, librarian, broadcaster, public administrator, banker.

In the “moderately similar” category, I have eight occupations: advertising executive, reporter, elected public official, store manager, public relations director, social science teacher, Chamber of Commerce executive, and marketer.

In the “very dissimilar” category are ALL THE REST OF THE OCCUPATIONS. A lonnnnnnnng list. It includes all the medical professions, most of the teaching professions, all of the science and engineering professions, and also things such as forester, carpenter, mathematician, and police officer. Nopes all around.

While all of this is a little discouraging, not to mention not very helpful, there is a sense in which it is comforting to see that I have been the same all along: low interest in pretty much everything, no feeling of having various possible paths to contented employment. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t feel like I was wasting decades of career growth by having a lot of kids: I didn’t have anything I particularly wanted to do anyway.

But it makes it hard to figure out what to do as the kids get older. Surely I will not still be sitting in the house without a job after the last kid is gone? And yet, my job experiences so far are not giving me much hope. Well! Still many more occupations to attempt!

On the How Did You Choose Your College? post, Missy asked if there could be another post where people say what their major was and what job(s) they got with that. She says: “Part of the reason I think it is so hard for kids to pick majors is ‘what kind of job would that be’?”

I agree. One of Rob’s potential majors is theoretical math. Not applied math: theoretical. And definitely my question there is what kind of JOB would that be?

Also, I think it’s so interesting to see how there can be a huge gap between major and job: sometimes they are (or seem) almost completely unconnected.

So let’s talk about that today, in whatever way applies to you. For example, maybe you can say, “This was my major, and here are some of the jobs associated with that major.” Or maybe you can say, “This was my major, but this is where I ended up, because etc.” Or maybe you can say, “This was my major, and there are NO JOBS, so I went back for schooling in this other thing.” Or maybe you will want to tell what happened with someone else. Just, whatever you think applies to this discussion.

Here is what I would rather not see, if we can avoid it: fighting about whether it’s better to go with a major that is attached to a definite employment path, or whether it’s better to follow one’s heart/interests regardless of future employment possibilities. It seems clear to me that the answer to that dilemma is “Sometimes one way is better, sometimes the other way is better, and it’s super-hard to figure out in advance which way is best for an individual person and their individual interests/life.” I’d rather stick, if possible, to stories about “This major —-> this job.”

Things are not good right now, are they. I think I’m going with links.

1. The ACLU has a good article on the right to peacefully protest, but the format is annoying because you have to keep clicking to get to the next item on the list. Still, it is a good list, if you are wondering about what is allowed and what is not, maybe because you are planning to participate in a protest, or maybe because people in your Facebook feed are acting as if it’s illegal to do so, or maybe because people in your Facebook feed are acting as if protesters don’t have to follow any rules at all. (Perhaps you are extra-lucky and you have BOTH kinds of people in your Facebook feed, fighting each other as you try not to let it make you want to start digging a hole for the bomb shelter.) Know Your Rights for Peaceful Protests. Here is a PDF version that doesn’t make you click to get to the next item: PDF Know Your Rights.

2. Sometimes it is hard to know where to send money to be HELPFUL: should the money go for legal support, or for education, or for the families of people affected? Should I send money to put out current fires, or would the money be better spent on preventing future fires? I can easily end up spinning my wheels and doing nothing. When I am overwhelmed by choices but want to do SOMETHING, I like to send a check to Plan International. They’re a non-religious charity that works on the very basics of making the world better: water, food, medical care, shelter, and not getting sold into slavery.

3. Or, here is a list of charities in the Human & Civil Rights category that Charity Navigator rates 4 stars (the highest rating). But I feel a little overwhelmed even with a pared-down list like that. Too many choices. On the other hand, I find it soothing to see how many people are working on making things better.

4. This Craig Ferguson quote:
“…Ask yourself the three questions you must always ask yourself before you say anything:
1. Does this need to be said?
2. Does this need to be said by me?
3. Does this need to be said by me now?”

This item makes me wish I were more of a think-outside-the-box person:

It is a piece of hemmed cotton fabric, with a button on one end and a buttonhole on the other. A non-zero amount of work went into this item, considering it was only used to wrap around a pile of four napkins I bought on clearance for $2.98 at Target. It seems as if it could be USED for something, rather than tossed in the trash after I harvest the button.

Elizabeth tried to use it as a cat collar, with comic results.

Speaking of Elizabeth, she went to a day camp this past week and had a great time. On the last day, there was a performance/show/demonstration-type thing for parents, and the camp director got a cool high school girl to be the judge of the competitive part. Elizabeth was PISSED that at the end of the judging, everyone got the same ribbon, with the judge declaring herself unable to pick among so many wonderful competitors.

I was explaining to Pissed Elizabeth on the way home that although I too dislike the “Everyone’s a winner!” kind of thing, in this case it would have been tough to do otherwise: some kids were in their sixth year at this camp, while others were in their first; some kids were going into 8th grade and others into 2nd; etc. We talked about it for awhile, Elizabeth mostly seeing it from the campers’ point of view and me mostly seeing it from the camp director’s point of view. We agreed on the idea of doing a variety of prizes that let everyone get a ribbon (which appeared to be the goal) while still letting kids feel as if the prizes were real. Things like “Best costume,” “Most poised,” “Funniest.” You wouldn’t even need to come up with the categories ahead of time: the judge could think about each child’s performance and pick what was the best part of it and make the ribbon for that. This would be hard with a really big group, but in this case there were only six kids.

This week it’s Edward and Henry’s turn for day camp. Normally this camp is hosted by our town’s elementary school, but this year our school couldn’t do it, so we had to join with the next town over. At drop-off, I was reminded how much I dislike new/unfamiliar things. At our elementary school, I know exactly how to get there, exactly where to park, exactly where else to park if the usual parking is full, and exactly which entrances are possibilities. I know my way around the inside of the school, and I recognize/know the teachers, and I recognize a lot of the teenaged counselors. But this morning, I had to wing it. It went fine, of course it went fine, but I was surprised at just how disorienting it is.

I was describing this book to Paul and Rob, and the three of us together came up with this: that it’s like The Bourne Identity (in which someone wakes up and has to figure out who he/she is, and also why he/she seems to be well-equipped with cash and skillz) + Men in Black (in which someone is recruited into a secret government organization that fights the weird/supernatural/alien) + X-Men (in which there is a world where certain people are born with interesting abilities). I felt so pleased with us for summing it up so clearly and evocatively. Then I was looking at reviews, and basically everyone was saying the same thing. So. Well, it means there’s CONSENSUS.

(image from Amazon.com)

The Rook, by Daniel O’Malley.

I found the book extremely enjoyable, and kept wanting to go back to it. The writing was a little rough in places, and I have never liked the exposition-via-letters gimmick (NO ONE would EVER go into SO MUCH DETAIL in a letter, NO MATTER WHAT the situation was); but the former felt like first-book issues, and the latter was easy enough to go along with in this case where it seemed justified.

I love it when a character is put into a situation that would be hugely tense and upsetting for almost anyone—but then turns out to be able to handle it.

Last night I dreamed I was pregnant. SUPER vivid dream, including running my hand over my rounded tum and thinking about names. (I was thinking, “Funny how I think I am just DYING to choose a name, until I actually have to choose one.”) Seven or eight years ago, I would have woken up and cried that it wasn’t real, and maybe spent the day brooding and eating fudge. Today I woke up IMMENSELY RELIEVED that it was a dream. I mention this in case you are where I was seven or eight years ago, feeling as if you will never be able to live a happy life unless you have another baby, and wondering if that feeling will ever go away. I can offer only one anecdotal “yes, it will” data point, but here it is if it helps.

It is partly made up of sensible things: I am now older than I would like to be for a pregnancy, and the gap between my youngest and another baby would be MUCH larger than I’d like it to be, and at this point I don’t want to start again at the beginning. It is also partly because the other children have gotten older, and I’ve thought, “Ohhhhhhhhhh, wait: I wanted a lot of BABIES, but I do not necessarily want a lot of three-year-olds or a lot of fourteen-year-olds.”

But I think it is mostly that The Feeling went away. I think it is a mistake to underestimate the role biology plays in a passionate desire for children: some of it is because children are neat to have, but a lot of it is a species-benefiting biological set-up that isn’t necessarily in the individual’s best interests. I remember when I was crying about the situation to my OB/GYN (he asked during a check-up if we were planning more children, and I burst into tears), and I asked if the baby cravings ever went away, and he said, “I don’t know. I can only tell you this: that older women no longer talk to me about it.” That’s not entirely comforting: my guess is that older women stop talking about it because it’s an option that’s no longer available. But now that I am a bit older myself, I am revising that guess to include the idea that when the option is no longer available, for most of us it also stops being so appealing. Biology stands down and lets most of us stop pining.

Still, I do think we should have had a sixth child, back when Paul said no. At this point that child would be six or seven, and I think that would have been great. And also, I do think that Paul saying no to another child, when I wanted one so badly I felt I could not live a happy life without one, had a lasting, non-positive effect on our marriage. I’m not saying he could have said anything else, if he really felt that strongly about it; and maybe if he had given in to what I wanted, perhaps it would have had some detrimental effect in the other direction; and perhaps there was NO possible happy outcome from that deadlocked situation and there would have been a negative effect no matter what we’d decided. But regardless, I don’t think back to that time and think it went the way it should have, or that he was right. He has never been good at thinking ahead to the future, so I don’t feel he made a decision based on a good evaluation of the situation; and he made me feel that when it comes down to truly important decisions in our shared life, it’s his happiness over mine.

I cannot figure out how to balance the children’s need to continually talk to me with my need to not have children continually talking to me. We are on Year 18 of this struggle, with no resolution in sight.

Older women tell me that the solution is to wait until the children are gone and then to wish fervently that I had not wished this precious time away. This does not seem like a satisfying solution. Furthermore, it indicates to me that there will be a mental transformation of some sort, a transformation that will render me unable to remember with any level of accuracy what this time of my life was like. That is discouraging. Already I have seen the early signs of it: I look with damp-eyed nostalgia at women shopping at Target with babies and toddlers, thinking fondly of how when I was in their shoes I would keep shoving goldfish crackers into little mouths to keep them from continually talking to me.

Well. Nothing brings this issue to light quite like summer vacation. Soon the children and I will gather to have our annual discussion about summer goals/plans, and I hope to find a way to say to them that every word from their lips is like precious gems to me, but could we stop the practice of dispersing those gems in every-90-seconds increments, a practice that makes it so that the only way I could survive the incessant interruptions with my mind intact would be to sit, motionless and receptive, doing nothing else but waiting for the next child to talk to me?

Furthermore, the other day I did an experiment that was even more disheartening. It was morning, and I’d had an idea for a post, so I was working on that while the children were getting ready for school. They were interrupting me SO INCESSANTLY that a literal LINE had formed. So I thought, like the sensible, patient, reasonable mother I long to be: “This is clearly not a good time to try to write. I can write later. I don’t need to SET UP a situation where I will be driven crazy.” I stopped writing, I went into the kitchen to be available to the children—and no one talked to me. I waited 10 minutes, doing various little tasks, and not one single child talked to me.

So I thought it was probably like the lines in Target, where first no one is in line and then suddenly a dozen customers all appear at once. I had just hit a little flood of children-wanting-to-talk-to-me, but now it was over. I returned to my computer, started writing, and I am not exaggerating even one tiny morsel when I say that within 30 seconds a child was talking to me. And then another child. And then a third child.

So I thought, okay, the LULL was the anomaly. I went to the living room, and I sat in a chair doing nothing. That is, I just Made Myself Available. AND NO ONE TALKED TO ME. I waited another full ten minutes. NO ONE TALKED TO ME.

I returned to my computer. The children appeared and started talking to me.

It was like a JOKE. It was like a SITCOM. It was like a FAMILY CIRCUS comic. It was as if there were a sensor in my computer chair that set off little activation switches in the children’s brains. It was one of the most depressing experiments I have ever performed.

Hi Swistle, could you do a post about what comics you read? I started reading Dumbing of Age because you mentioned it in a post once and I really love it. And I think it was you that mentioned Bad Machinery too, and I love that too. I’m going through a bit of a reading slump where I’m struggling to find a book that I feel like reading more than a couple pages of, but I realized I still enjoy comics, especially the sort that tell an on-going story. So I was hoping you might have some more recommendations.

Thanks

Nancy

This is a great idea: I want suggestions TOO.

Here are the comics I currently read, of the sort that tell an on-going story (those are my favorite kind, too):

Dumbing of Age

Bad Machinery / Scary Go Round – This one seems to do several different sometimes-overlapping comics, in batches. I’ve never figured out what the pattern is, or which series is named what: I just go with it.

Questionable Content

Alice Grove

And here are the comics I currently read, of the sort that don’t tell an on-going story per se:

Dinosaur Comics

Hark, A Vagrant!

Robot Hugs

xkcd

Nancy and I would like to know what comics YOU read—particularly the kind that have a long-running storyline, but also the kind that don’t.