Love and carrots

So, I got a comment on my "I don't dance. Accept it." post that really made me think.

So, your motivations in life come from your fears, rather than your love. You try to avoid the stick, but you aren't so interested in the carrot?

My dear Anonymous, please let me clarify a bit. I am not athletic. I may be skinny and appear to be fit, but I am not. I ran the mile in high school in 12:34. I've been told people have walked the mile faster than that. Climbing a few flights of stairs will wind me. I am not a stranger to the stitch in the side. Also, although I have three brothers, they were all gone by the time I hit 8th grade. I am the youngest by almost 5 years. I grew up as the spoiled little girl and was never introduced to playing sports. Through Young Womens I would play ward basketball, volleyball and softball, but only because half of the girls were as non-athletic as I was, and were also my best friends. I still felt foolish doing poorly in front of all those people, but at least it was a group I had been playing sports foolishly with for years. Also, I was from a small town; I was expected to play in these sports. I would have drawn more attention to myself if I didn't play. Also, let's not forget the boy in my ward that I had a crush on who was always at the ward games. Anyway, I'm getting side tracked. The point is, I am not very talented at anything that requires physical exertion, especially if I have to do it in front of other people. Believe it or not, folks, I'm shy.

Please note the types of activities I listed in that post:

dancing
rock climbing
snowmobiling
wakeboarding
working out in public
singing in front of others

Every single one except the last one deal with some sort of physical activity that I have never done, and thus feel uncomfortable learning how to do in front of others. The last isn't so much physical, but still requires using a poorly-developed talent in front of others.

This does not mean that I'm not motivated by love. What part of wakeboarding says love? Nothing! It says using muscles that I have not developed to do something that people claim to be easy, only to not be able to do it and look foolish in front of everyone.

Dragon Lady: "So, I went rock climbing last night. It's actually my third time. I'm getting decent at it."
Brother Jr.: "Who's the boy?"

I had to laugh, because he was right. The only reason I ever went rock climbing was because Olive Wood, the guy I was dating, had been wanting me to do it for months and he finally convinced me to go with him. I went because I cared about him, and it was something that he really enjoyed doing. Yes, you could argue that love was my motivation.

Also, what about all of the other things I do because I love doing them? I've planted a garden for the third year in a row. I have at least 12 plants at home that I care for and one at work that I claim as my own. I love plants and watching them grow. This year I even started half of my garden from seeds in Spare 'Oom. What about playing Mario 3? Even going so far as to convince my aunt to let me borrow the "Strategy Guide" (aka Cheat Book) so that I could learn all of the tricks. What about the two full bookcases in my room? What about all of the wedding videos I have made for family and friends? What about writing for the Board? What about all of the traveling I have done? What about swimming in the Dead Sea? What about plucking out hymns because it relieves my stress, even if I'm not good at it? How can you say that I'm motivated by fear and not love? Oh sure, there are many things I don't do because of fear... I've become quite content to be the wallflower and spectator... but there are many things I do that I love, and even some I do despite my fears.  (Also, who says that being a spectator is bad? I actually enjoy watching Guitar Hero, thank you very much. Also, I believe basketball is quite fun to watch and horrid to play. If you want me to be happy, let me watch and don't make me play.)

Now, I've never heard the stick and carrot phrase... perhaps I'm out of the loop. I did grow up in a bubble, after all. But I think I've gathered what you meant. In fact, here is a definition from Yellow, in case anyone else in my readership didn't quite understand:

Stick = punishment, Carrot = reward
You do something out of desire to avoid punishment, rather than out of desire for the intended outcome
you do your homework in order to avoid failing, instead of to learn

This may be true to an extent (I definitely did my fair share of homework in order to not fail instead of out of a desire to learn), but I wouldn't say that's how I live my life. To be honest, I don't think the results of dancing can be considered a carrot. It's more like celery. It could make me lose weight, but tastes icky.

Is it such a bad thing that I don't like doing things that make me feel foolish? Is it such a bad thing that I thrive in the things I am comfortable with and love? That I expand my bubble a little at a time, doing things because someone I care about wants me to do them, or because I develop a desire to learn myself? Am I a horrible person because I am not athletic? Must every person in the world love doing athletic things? Can't I stick with the things that keep me active that I enjoy? Yes, there are some. I have recently taken to rock climbing. I rather enjoy hiking if the people I'm with don't mind if I go slow. I love walks. I'll climb a flight of stairs at work instead of taking the elevator. Please forgive me if I don't find pleasure in the things that the masses find pleasure in.

For the record, I went snowmobiling. I enjoyed it. I would even go again. Even though I destroyed my knee in so doing.  And yes, it still hurts.  Not nearly as badly as it used to.  I can even sit with my leg curled up under me now.  Progress!  And guess what?  I would still go snowmobiling again.  Because it was fun.  I just won't do any more jumps.  See?  I'll expand my bubble, just let me do it at my own rate.

So call me a stick in the mud if you will.  Believe that I'm a party pooper.  I don't care.  The people who know me best accept and love me for who I am, and really, what else matters?

Why I don't think Social Security is secure

Once upon a time, Mom set up bank accounts for all of us children.  Our bank statements had our SSNs printed on them, so whenever we needed to know our SSN, Mom would tell us to check our bank statements.  

One day, when I was in 8th grade, our class decided to go to the INEL (now INEEL) for a field trip.  The INEL is a nuclear testing site, and thus the security there is quite high.  In order to take a tour there, you have to give them your SSN.  Charged with finding out this information, I went home and asked Mom who directed me to my bank statement.  I sat there at the table, carefully copying my number from my bank statement to a sheet of paper to give to my teacher.  As I was writing, Brother Jr. walked by and happened to glance at my paper.  

Brother Jr.: "Why are you writing down my Social Security Number?"
me: "I'm not.  This is mine."
Brother Jr.: "No it's not.  It's mine!"
both: "Moooom!"

Turns out, it was my SSN. Brother Jr. had been using my SSN for the past three years without having any idea. All his SS earnings got put in my name. He went to school under my number. He got his driver's license with my number. (Which turned out to be the biggest pain as we didn't realize it until I went to get my driver's license and he was on his mission. "Sorry. You can't use that number. It's already in use." "Can you tell me if Brother Jr. is using it?" "Yes, he is." "Well, try this number [enter his number here]" "Sorry, you can't use that number. It doesn't match your name." "Well my number doesn't match his name either!") He went on his mission under my number. He even registered for the draft under my number. I could have been drafted at the ripe old age of 14.

This week I received a letter from the Social Security Administration, detailing my SS earnings. I couldn't figure out why from 1994-1996 I had earnings, but from 1997-1998 I had $0. Then in 1999, my earnings started up again. And then it hit me. I wasn't working to earn SS money when I was 11 years old. So, from age 11-13, Brother Jr. gave me money. Then we figured it out, and I was left with no earnings for two years until I was 16 and started earning my own Social Security benefits.

There was a number to call if my earnings were not correct. I called them. I figured it would be the honest thing to do, after all. They won't let me give it back! The only way for him to get his money back is to talk to the potato farmers of Idaho (one of which is no longer farming) to see if they still have their paperwork of 12-14 years ago, and ask them to refile with Brother Jr.'s real number. Brother Jr. decided this was not worth his time.

Thank you Brother Jr. for the $2,437 Christmas present that may or may not be there for me when I qualify for it.  That definitely makes up for the pain and agony I went through when I had to postpone getting my driver's license due to this silly mistake.

I don't want to hear anyone scoff and scorn when they find out that I actually pay to have my credit monitored.  If my dear, sweet brother can steal my number that easily without anyone knowing and without even trying, then imagine how easy it is for someone who is actively trying to steal my identity.  At least I came out on top with this one.

I don't dance. Accept it.

I was just listening to Dancing Through Life from Wicked and found one of my own life theories in there:

     Those who don't try
     Never look foolish

Ironically, I typically follow that theory in relation to dancing. But really, I incorporate it into many aspects of life. I fear looking foolish. Considering how likely that is in most things that I could do, it's much more simple to never try. Certain of my friends and loved ones have convinced me to do things that I would never do on my own. Things such as rock climbing, snowmobiling, wakeboarding, working out in public, singing in front of others, etc. However, before all y'all start rejoicing that I'm seeing the light, I cannot say that I didn't feel foolish doing a lot of that stuff. Rock climbing, for example, took me several trips before I started feeling even a semblance of comfort. Wakeboarding... hahaha. I never even got up! It took a lot of convincing to get me out there, and I only ever did it because it was Brother that was doing the convincing and he promised me that he'd be patient with me. He kept to his promise, but I still felt rather foolish that I simply could not get up. I did not go again the rest of the trip; rather, I found various excuses not to get back out there.

For those of you out there who are still trying to get me to go water skiing, sky diving, dancing, running, biking, dancing, or anything else that I don't feel comfortable with, please forgive me when I put you off and refuse to do such activities. I still love you and am grateful that you want to share your favorite things with me. And maybe if you're very persuasive, patient, and if I trust you enough, and you're willing to do said activity with just the two of us, and not in front of a group of people, I may be convinced. After a long period of time. But please understand...if I never try, I'll never look foolish. This is a very appealing thought to me.

Random and disconnected thoughts

It's entertaining when you're driving behind a really slow car and finally get around it, just to find that one of your former teachers is driving it.

Our kitties are spending their first full day outside today. I'm pretty sure Sonja is mad at me for this. Sir Guy and Drawly weren't sure what they thought either. It kind of breaks my heart for them. But it's a beautiful day. And we'll go out and play with them after work.

I found a place to move yesterday. I am much saddened to leave The Heartless Siren. And my baby kitties. But it's all for the best. Also, it's only a block or so away. It has already been decided that I will be back to do laundry and keep up my garden and feed Heartless yummy dinners. I will miss them, and I don't look forward to packing and moving. But I am excited about life after this.

I planted three flowers this morning while procrastinating going to work. They're called Cosmos and I grew them from seeds in my house, along with half of my garden. I've been wanting to plant these for ages. I decided this morning that planting three wouldn't take that much time. It didn't. Now I have 3 more that I need to decide what to do with. Anyone want to plant some flowers?


Tonight I plan on planting Morning Glory (the flowery happy stuff, not the overpowering weed), Forget-me-nots, peas, potatoes, carrots, radishes... and whatever else I decide is ready to plant.

I forgot my headphones out in my car today. This wouldn't be a problem except I also forgot my access card. So I can get out, but getting back in is a pain.

I made Hawaiian Chicken and a Caesar Salad last night. (With help, mind you.) All from scratch. Including the croutons and the caesar dressing. The dressing wasn't my favorite (anyone have a good recipe?), but the rest was fantastic. Also, I've decided I'm loving fresh garlic. The garlic press I bought is probably my favorite investment right now. I'm running out of garlic. I didn't think I would ever do that, since The Cold One left her enormous stash with me.

I was mad at my landlady for not cashing my rent check yet. I opened my check book last night and found the check still in there. Oops?

I need motivation to get to work on time. And more motivation to be highly productive while there. You know, don't blog and answer Board questions and the like. Any suggestions?

I'm supposed to be eating 5 servings of fruit and veggies per day for the next two months in order to get $25 off my insurance premium. I am consistently hitting 4 servings. I have yet to get 5. I'm thinking I'm about to the point where I shan't be able to accomplish this goal. I may just not do this challenge. This'll be good. Because then I don't have to worry about exercising 5 days per week for 30 mins per day for the next two months. I like this idea. But I'll keep eating fruits and veggies. Because I like them.

I bought a footlong Subway sandwich on my way to work today for lunch. (Because it's cheaper!) I'm not very hungry at all. This could be problematic.

Today is beautiful. Really, really beautiful. I am very happy today. :)

Wishing for the Rest of the Story

I use the same stall in the bathroom every day at work. One day, many weeks ago, I noticed in passing that there were three rolls of toilet paper. This made sense, though, since the one was half gone. Thus, I concluded that the janitor came in, saw the one half gone, took it off the holder, replaced it with a new one, and put the half-used one on top so that it'd get used first. Dutifully, I used the one that was already half gone. I really didn't think a thing about it.

Several days later, a fourth roll appeared. (Maybe I should mention that this is not a highly used bathroom at all. There are only a handful of women working in this building. But that number must have been larger at one point, since there are 8 stalls.) This seemed a bit odd, since there were plenty of toilet paper left. Why did they need to put another roll in? But oh well.

Several days later another roll showed up. Then another. Then another. Today I walked in and about laughed right out loud. There were seven rolls of toilet paper in my stall. This is getting quite ridiculous. I was curious now. Were the other stalls as bad? A quick look around informed me that between 8 stalls there were 45 rolls of toilet paper. I'm really hoping that this is some sort of passive-aggressive revenge between a janitor and her supervisor. (In my head this janitor is surely female.) I really just wish I knew the story behind it. I suppose I'll have to make up my own version. Also, I'm wondering what will happen when there is no longer room to balance rolls upon the holder and the back of the toilet. Will they start appearing on the floor? Someday, we shan't be able to walk into the bathroom... it'll be too full of toilet paper. I hope I can be here to see this day.

Amber is dying

And it makes me incredibly sad.

 

She started dying after I repotted her last time. You think it's the soil? Or the pot is too big? It seems like she's just not drinking any water anymore. The water at the bottom (it's a bottom-feeding pot) just sits there and ends up turning orange. If I water her from the top, the soil just stays moist forever.

One of her three stalks (stems?) is almost completely dead. The leaves are all gone and the stem is turning black. Another is starting to go the way of the world. The third is hanging in there, but who knows for how long.

Help! Any ideas of how to keep Amber alive?

Breaking Social Norms

Today is a day lacking of elevator etiquette. Heartless and I got on the elevator in the parking garage to be met by an adorably cute old man who greeted us with, "Good morning! Have a great day!" And then we stayed in the elevator with him for another floor. Typically you don't stick around when someone tells you to have a great day. So it seemed a bit awkward. But he was super nice and let us get out of the elevator before him and everything.

On the elevator up from lunch, a bunch of us got on and formed your typical circle around the walls of the elevator, broken only where the door opens. The last guy to get on the elevator got on, filled that empty spot, and faced into the elevator. We were now a complete circle (well, rectangle, really) all looking at each other. He didn't even look down or into space. He purposefully looked around at each of us and the food we were holding. Again, awkward.

Today holds one more elevator ride when we go home. I wonder if we'll get a third story...


Also, tangent, but this elevator topic reminded me of a few weeks ago when we learned that elevators really will close on your hand, food, briefcase, camera bag, etc. It is a lie if anyone ever tells you otherwise.

Torture

I hate the sound of phones ringing and no one answering them. I think that sound alone could drive me into madness.

I work in a giant room filled with cubicles. Lots and lots of cubicles. Today, someone's phone started ringing. No one answered it. I ignored it, because phones usually only ring four or five times before the voicemail picks up, right? Apparently this person doesn't have voicemail. I started to fear this after seven or eight rings. By 10 rings, I could no longer focus on my work. I'm sure it got to 15 rings before I started whining to Yellow who told me to go answer it and tell them that no one is answering. (Of course, I was not about to do this. I didn't even know where it was coming from, nor would I even know the person even if I did find the cubicle, and lastly, I'm a big, fat chicken.) At the same time Heartless Siren, who was sitting next to me, snapped as well. She pulled out her headphones and declared that someone needed to answer the phone. I pointed to my chat with Yellow and she laughed, then went exploring to find the phone. She couldn't have taken 10 steps out of our cubicle before the phone stopped ringing. She came back and we both enjoyed the blessed silence. Silence has never before been so beautiful.

In my writhing pain, I noticed that Heartless' ethernet cord was in danger of being run over by my chair, so in the beautiful silence, I crawled under the desk to move it to safety. While down there, the phone started again. It was an odd phenomenon. while under the desk, I could have sworn it was coming from the cubicle next to us. But as I came out from under the desk, the direction the torturous ring was coming from changed several times. I really had no idea where it was coming from this time. I sat back down and cringed, sending a few more whines out to the cyber world, then silence regained its dominion. It has been silent ever since.

I rejoice in silence.

Unauthorized reproduction is encouraged

Maybe I should feed my kitties some tuna. And practice cat yodeling.

=IF(C7=TRUE,C8,D8)

Today I had a conversation via a Google Spreadsheet. No, not in the chat window like normal people, but by typing things in the various empty cells.

I think we are both officially nerds.