2016 kicked me in the nards

I’m sorry.

I don’t even know where to begin. I mean, the time lapse is quite disheartening, isn’t it?

I feel like I’m playing the part of the guy who wanted a commitment, settled down ready to embark on that road of domestic bliss and then… BAM!!! Just kidding! I need to be free… can’t commit. Don’t make me. It’s not you, it’s me. Bla, bla, bla, etc.

I SAID I wanted a blog. I SAID I really, really liked writing. I pay for my own hosting … I mean, the commitment is there, right? Well, clearly not. Regardless, I’m back and instead of going on like a babbling idiot who will never, ever be able to accurately make up for lost time (not to mention all the loyal readers I lost with my absence – and trust me, there were many!) I think it’s best to just do some quick updates for everyone on all things relevant to being me, aforementioned Chilean Gringa. (Side note – I’m thinking I need to change the title. Do I feel it adequately represents me? Not anymore, but we’ll delve into that later on. I can only manage a few key at a time while dipping my toe in the blog pool again.)

Ok. So where was I last time we were together?

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AHHHHHHH yes… August. Chileans and their weird sayings about getting through winter and then the slip n’ slide into summer once September comes around each year. That.

A mug only a mother could love.

Well, one of the most relevant things that happened to me in the last 2+ years is that I lost my beloved Obi. For those who are unfamiliar, Obi was my cherished English Bulldog. I got him shortly after moving to Chile and he was my very first pet, first partner in crime … the one who was with me when I was feeling on the verge of jumping from a ledge living in Chile, with me when I finally landed my first job here, when I got married, when I had a baby. He basically accompanied me through my transition from functional alcoholic singleton to adulting in the adult world. He was my world in so many ways and he taught me so much about sappy things like unconditional love, sacrifice and unselfishness. But Obi was really sick … he was epileptic, had to take medication that ultimately damaged his liver, and while dealing with ongoing seizures, my poor baby developed glaucoma in both eyes. Not only did he lose his sight, but glaucoma is PAINFUL and he would wince and cry from the pain. My little nugget was a mere six years old. Enter months of heartbreak.

Anyway, ultimately we did the only thing we could do for Obi. We let him go. The situation with him was out of control by the end and even though I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest, we did the only thing we knew would help him lead a happier, better life. Even if said life wasn’t with us. Needless to say, that was a dark period in my life. Almost two years after my very last blog entry, I lost my Obi and I can sincerely say that it was the first time I ever lost any living, breathing thing/person/being that actually meant something to me. It was my first experience with true loss of a loved one. Yeah… those were dark times for me.

Shortly after that, and I mean literallly 9 days after losing my pet, I was laid off from Avon Chile. My boss called me into his office and this is how the conversation went the minute I sat down:

Boss: “Hello Andrea, how are you doing?” (he’d been on vacation and generally out of town for the past weeks leading up to this day, so I hadn’t seen him in a while).

Me: “I’m ok… actually, it’s been a rough few days. I lost my pet last week.” (I should share that he too has a beloved family pet that he brought with him from Argentina upon being transferred to Avon Chile. Meaning, he’s a self-proclaimed dog lover and considers his Lab part of the family.)

Boss: “Oh, that’s too bad. Listen Andrea, I have some bad news for you. We’re going to have to let you go. But you know what I think? It’s best if you say that this was YOUR decision. Yes, that’s best for all. Are you ready to go into the board room and address the other managers with your decision?”

Cue in my reaction:

Yeah, those were dark times for me again in 2016.

And so, again, almost two years to the day since my last blog entry about Chilean and their August sentiments, I found myself unemployed, mourning my dog and the loss of (what seemed to me) OH.SO.MUCH within a span of 9 days. WITHIN A SPAN OF NINE DAYS, PEOPLE!!!!!!!

Can I repeat that those were dark times for me?

See, what we have here kind reader, is a little glimpse of what’s been on tap between July 29 and August 8, 2016. I realize that I’ve left out a whole lot of something between August 2014 and July 2016, but that will just have to wait. Maybe we can just leave it at this: if you have a specific question about the going ons during the two years I didn’t blog, feel free to raise your hand. I’ll be fielding questions Lionel Richie-style: All night long.

Only kind of kidding.

But hey, I’m going to pat myself on the back for getting this out there. It took me a while to dip my toe back in the pool and maaaaaaaan…. mama feels GOOD. I’ll be back because there is SO MUCH MORE to say.

We’ve only just begun. Again.

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Channeling Bret Michaels

That sounds really weird.

Why would anyone want to channel this guy?

Perfecting the duck face.
Perfecting the duck face.

I’m only kind of kidding, of course. I’m sure Bret Michaels has a ton to teach us about beating the odds given he has the worst kind of diabetes known to man and he still finds energy, health and time to dedicate to what he knows best: music, supporting our troops and veterans and canoodling with 80s-haired wanna-be vixens. Seriously, more power to him. [Side note: I own all three seasons of Bret Michael’s Rock of Love. Chew on THAT.]

It’s been THREE WHOLE MONTHS since I quit that painful excuse for a career move and I’m still right where I was on March 1st. I mean, I guess I’ve grown somewhat: I’ve meditated over the experience, did the due diligence of finding the moral lesson in the HUGE fail I had to endure, have beaten myself up and consoled myself a dozen and one times and have gone to and fro with lamenting and redeeming myself. The moral of the story is this: I totally and completely fucked up, reacted hastily to an expired situation and, because of the frustration this invoked, was blinded into thinking that the first company to come along and court me WAS INDEED MY SAVING GRACE. By accepting all the glorious things they offered, I’d show ex-company what I’m worth and man, won’t they be sorry to see me go. 

Well we all know how THAT worked out.

If my ex-company ever lamented that I left, I never knew about it. Though I suspect that my wise ex-boss surely saw me making this mistake as it was happening and, in her age and the infinite wisdom associated with her life experiences, she probably hoped for the best for me but surely thought I was being impulsive. And then she probably concluded that she didn’t want such an impulsive wreck to continue to run her business in Chile. So a pat on the back and “good luck to you” it was. As a person she was probably sad to see me go, but as a business woman she concluded that I had made my decision and life would go on.

Lesson learned: I was defiant. I acted impulsively. I was immature. I was all ego.

I crossed into what I thought was my field of dreams. All I had ever hoped for in structure, in organization, in position, in teamwork. Only to realize that NOTHING was as it had been promised and what had been painted to me on the outside was merely an illusion … or a wish list of where they wanted to be but had failed repeatedly to achieve. No ONE person was going to achieve that for them when the organization was screwed up, from the leader downward. Good people, talented even. But so much more to accomplish and, truth be told, a little fishy that as a group they still failed repeatedly to accomplish their wish list. I bowed out in the nick of time.

Lesson learned: I left more humbled than I’ve ever been in my life. I remain as humbled. I lost faith in teamwork; I lost faith in myself. I doubted myself. I beat myself up for making such a terrible mistake. I felt sorry for myself. All of this (and more) has made me pick myself up. Has made me push aside all the negativity, all the doubts, all the fears. A calloused me has emerged.

I’m less likely to be as impulsive now. I’m more apt to listen than to speak. I’m asking more questions and pushing for answers if something seems fishy. Unfortunately I’m also probably way more skeptical than ever before. I believe the word I’m looking for is tainted.

So why Bret Michaels, really?

All of the above has happened internally (obviously), while on the outside I’ve been on multiple job interviews. Some that have really, really interested me, others which I was quite skeptical about. Thus far, none have panned out. This in and of itself is hard on the self esteem. Some days turn into weeks and I realize that I’ve had no solid leads in well over double digit days. I fear becoming a has-been. I fear becoming irrelevant. I have images of turning 45 and realizing that I never worked again… I never dominated my area/project/division/what-have-you, again. Never killing it again. Add the stress of having one demanding toddler who at times flies off the handle to such an extent, I’m left wondering if I’m even losing at this whole parenting thing. Add a newly diagnosed epileptic dog. Add a traveling husband who is here only sometimes (and Murphy’s Law has it that he’s gone when shit truly hits the fan.)

Nothing is the end of the world, but every little thing adds up. And the thoughts that swirl in one’s own mind can be such ball busters.

Bret Michaels wasn’t necessarily impulsive in his decisions on Rock of Love. In fact, in the first season, everyone was sure he’d pick Heather. She seemed like the obvious choice as she was so much more his style and vibe (fake boobs and all!) Instead he picked Jes. Jes was cute, spunky, smart – the kind of girl other girls want to be friends with. Good decision. Smart, reliable. BUT SO NOT BRET MICHAELS! He made a safe decision, but not a decision that Bret himself could truly commit to … and he didn’t! Because then came Season 2 of Rock of Love. In what we now know to be typical Bret style – he likes the party girls and the centerfold types for a little while. But when it comes down to it, Bret is a man of substance. Again he floored us by not choosing Daisy and going with Ambre! The smart, flat-chested, career oriented girl that again, all girls would love to befriend! Then, out of nowhere, in Season Three he went COMPLETELY AGAINST everything we knew about him and he chose Taya instead of Mindy! Mindy – the all American girl!! Taya – literally the Penthouse something or other. I was totally distraught with that decision because Taya played it up that she was a lady and that all her Penthouse “spreads” were done “in taste.” She portrayed herself to be one way but really, she was as trashy as the rest! I’m disgusted just remembering ….

All of the above has nothing to do with my life lessons learned in the past six months. What I mean when I say I’m going to channel Bret Michaels, I really mean that I find solace in Poison’s song “Something to Believe In.” It reminds me that there are bigger problems out there, but I also know that we all have our own battles and we all need a little something to believe in everyday. Sometimes a good song is all you need to soothe a dark moment just enough. Once it’s over, you find you’re on the other side of the dark  moment and able to keep on moving.

“Road to God, take me home.” Thanks, Bret.

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At the end of the day

I just found myself googling, “At the end of the day, what was it all for?” Very Carrie Bradshaw of me.

What was I expecting? A pop-up that said “Andrea, the reason you left your job at ACME Co. only to fall into the worst possible scenario at the new job, that left you no other choice but to quit three months later because you couldn’t deal with the lack of professionalism and you now find yourself unemployed, which wasn’t part of the plan is because ___________ .” OH SNAP! No such pop-up appeared.

That’s what happened, you know. For the sake of privacy and of course, for the sake of my future career, I can’t spare details (that is, until my blogging becomes a career in and of itself, then hell yeah, I’m telling everybody, everything!) Right now, all you really need to know, I guess, is that I’m currently unemployed. Or “in-between jobs” as we like to say in the U.S. Or actively participating in the interview process of various companies. Not working. Against my will not working.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! – I repeat this in my head several times a day, like some kind of frantic teenager who thinks she has no control over her life and what happens to her.

When I left “ACME” (because obviously I’m not going to tell you the actual name of the company I used to work for – duh!), I remember feeling that I didn’t really want to leave, not truly in my heart. I liked it there. I may have even loved it. To this day I feel that the company’s values, traditions, processes and way of thinking are completely aligned with mine. I remember thinking “please, give me a sign, say SOMETHING, ANYTHING resembling a suggestion that I stick around.” The only thing I got from them was “You could have stayed through Christmas. Leaving before then just seems wrong. Can’t you quit in January?” Obviously I couldn’t stay.

Companies are run by people. People are proud and people are stubborn. I’m not saying that my ex company’s people were either of those but I AM saying that I certainly was both of those. I was stubborn in that I wouldn’t accept, in any way, the limitations they were putting on me and my team. I was proud in that I wanted to show them that someone else wanted me and the offer was so great, I was willing to leave prior to Christmas (just a hint, I worked in retail and Christmas for retail is JACKPOT CITY.)

Now that I’m unemployed, looking for work, sometimes with the success of an interview, sometimes not, I wonder, what was it all for? Why did I leave in pursuit of greener pastures when at the end of the day, the greener pastures didn’t exist? Was I proud or was I right in wanting to leave because the way things were being run (and are currently run) didn’t add up? Was my boss proud for never once asking me “what can we do to keep you?” Am I too proud for even thinking/writing that?

regret quotesJust so you know (and because this is my blog), I miss my job at ACME. I miss the people, I miss the operations and I even miss my boss. I also remember that I hated a lot of things, mainly the cluelessness from abroad and the way I felt my team was exploited. Maybe I was right to leave for the promise of greener pastures. Maybe now that I have nothing I’m like that girl who left her nice, sweet, boring boyfriend for that badass, handsome rebel on a motorcycle who ended up leaving her for the lead singer of a punk band and then sits at home crying, wondering why she ever left the nice, sweet, boring boyfriend.

WillWorkForMoney

Whatever the case may be, I’m here now, unemployed and looking for jobs. References available upon request (unless we’re in Chile, then references are listed on the actual resume.)

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My Love Affair With Licensing

In my former life, I worked in licensing. I realize there are many people out there who have no idea what licensing is about and I know this because before I entered that world, I was one of those people.

In the simplest of terms, licensing is the act of granting permission to someone to do something. In my former life, I worked with authorizing, granting and allowing the use and release of animation – specifically Japanese animation.

I call to mind a phenomenon I take for granted everyone remembers: Pokemon.

Even as I incorporate use of this image, I know I don't have the right to do so.

Now, I wasn’t involved in any way with the evolution of Pokemon in our everyday lives and in fact, the first murmurs of the explosion-to-come were heard in the late 90’s (1996, I believe, though I could be wrong.) During that time, I was tucked away at college, figuring out my life and where I wanted to go with it. I had no idea what Pokemon was or even, what licensing was or how it would someday wrap me into its snug little world.

The point is, we all remember when Pokemon exploded onto the scene. We didn’t even have to have kids to know that every kid across America (and then some, I would later learn) was engrossed with collecting these devilish little Pocket Monsters. Based on a video game and then turned into animation, it suddenly seemed that the entire world was being taken over by 1) weird looking Japanese animation and 2) that yellow dinosaur/dog thing called Pikachu or what have you. Yeah, kids went nuts over this little animation property and you know what made said frenzy possible? Licensing!! Licensing the shit out of these images allowed said characters to appear on everything from notebooks, backpacks, toys, bedding, tshirts, etc. And I’m willing to bet that we can probably even find said Pikachu on vibrators and such (though of course, not legally licensed for such use.) And once there are things with an image on it, there is always somebody out there, a kid, teen or adult, who just CAN’T POSSIBLY LIVE WITHOUT THAT PIKACHU YELLOW PASHMINA!!!

Before Pokemon, we can remember licensing in all its glory with none other than our beloved Star Wars. Now there’s a licensing jackpot. Let’s think about this for a minute: though Lucas has, without argument, many wonderful creations (Indiana Jones, Willow, American Graffiti, to name a few) there is nothing that compares to the cinematic and licensing success of his mega empire called Star Wars. One of the biggest factors that lends to the success of a licensing brand, if it’s based on a movie or tv show, is its longevity. If it’s a tv show, everyone wants to know – how many episodes can we count on? Why? The longer the series or franchise, the longer someone has to make sure that notebook they develop has time to become a roaring success in retail as well. This is what makes Star Wars so f-ing amazing in the licensing world!! Back in the day there were only THREE movies – movies, not even episodes that air on a daily or weekly basis but a movie that lasts a mere weeks in theaters – and Lucas built an empire the size of China based on THREE MOVIES that came out THREE years apart. Think about it – would you buy merchandise based on Titanic? That was an explosive movie at its time yet it came and went, like movies do. Yet Star Wars remains. Brilliant.

In any case, the point of this post, along with offering you a little background into the world of licensing and how it pulsates around us, is to tell you that, once a year there is a convention dedicated solely and exclusively to the licensing world and it’s called – what else – Licensing Show. Actually its official title is “Licensing International Expo” but no one in licensing calls it anything else but simply and purely, Licensing Show.

The first time I attended Licensing Show, as an Exhibitor, was in 2004. Back in the day, this convention was held in the greatest city on Earth – New York – during the hot, summer month of June. It was nothing short of pure chaos, with people coming and going and my superiors presenting new brands that were on the horizon, compliments of my former company and its intended licensing efforts behind said brands. The following year (and for several years after), we exhibited yet again but this time with a booth twice the size of earlier years, with a reception area and five individual meeting rooms that accommodated six meeting members each. The chaos multiplied. Half hour back-to-back meetings from 9:00 am to 6:00 pm where one basically repeated brand information from one would-be client to the next. This was the typical DAY of the exhibitor and what followed once the convention doors closed (at 6:00 pm sharp!) was any number of cocktails hosted by well-known companies (Disney, Viacom, Cartoon Network, Hasbro, Mattel, etc), followed by dinner – perhaps with a VP of a television network or Creative Director of some sought after agency. One would trek through the trendiest of neighborhoods in Manhattan, from the convention, to the cocktail, to a the posh dinner, only to plop into bed at about midnight, buzzed off business and wine and hurrying into slumber to be in tip-top shape for the first 9:00 am meeting the following day. Past 6:00 pm the cocktails were hard to avoid. Meetings could continue past 6:00 pm but that meant that they were scheduled at a bar and usually, one reserved that prime-time for a favored company – one that allowed you to mix fun and work. It was an exhausting week, that one, but without a doubt, the one week I looked forward to each and every year.

I met my husband at this convention, actually. I don’t recall our first meeting but he tells me that I wore glasses and a white skirt (that’s all he seems to recall so I wonder if I bothered putting on a top that day.) We actually met years before we decided to like each other, but the year we DID fall in love (in November) we attended Licensing Show like always (the June before) and partied at a rooftop bar in NYC. Another splendid tradition: the last night of the convention, all the Latins (Mexicans, Chileans, Argentinians, what have you) got together for a celebratory, let’s-toast-to-another-Licensing-Show-gone-by-and-hey-it’s-awesome-to-see-you-again drink.

Me and future hubby partying circa 2008 at the rooftop bar. I look super sober.

And so, what’s my point with this? Tonight G is flying home from Licensing Show 2011 as I type. This is the first year he attends in which I am no longer involved in the world of licensing. I envy him. I remember what it was like to prepare for that trip, to wake up knowing you face a full agenda of the day’s meetings. I remember being a licensing rockstar if only in my own reality. I remember looking at all my fellow licensing colleagues from Latin America – sh*t, even from Chile – and thinking “Wow, how cool is your gig? In licensing and in Lat Am, what more do you need?” I remember the meetings, the cocktails, the dinners, the parties, the negotiations, the encounters and I miss.it.all. Though I’m happy G is still a part of that world (I can live vicariously through him!) I can’t help but feel that I’ve fallen from grace.

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Please don’t let anyone die

I can’t bring myself to write a heartfelt blog about the past year which is soon coming to an end. So in true Andrea fashion, I’m going to make a list. To quote Cher in the movie “Mermaids” – “Anything else, is too big of a commitment.” At this point in the blog entry, I’m not sure what the list will contain but I’ll try to avoid putting any grocery items or to-do’s here and I’ll try to focus on things that happened, things I experienced or things I did.

Hmmm.

It’s looking to be a bit egocentric but I’ll try to be objective.

1.) The first thing that comes to mind when I think about 2010 is that it’s been an eventful year for Chile. While I don’t feel any heartstrings pulling about most things related to this country, said strings were pulled in 2010 when I saw the devastation and suffering caused by the earthquake in February. By far the most impacting natural disaster I’ve experienced to date.

2.) I was humbled in Chile more than a few times this year because, you know, sometimes people need it. I was humbled throughout my job search, humbled while I studied in my first year of my Master’s program and humbled by people who truly know how to live a far simpler life than I do. I live in a permanent state of tizzy and knot and I’ve come across several kinds of people who truly live by “little lady, let your mind go and your body will follow.”

3.) 2010 really highlighted my strained relationship with my mom. Theories and reasons exist as to why this is they case, but I’ll refrain from getting into it since it doesn’t seem highly appropriate.

4.) I learned that I could never, for the life of me, be a stay-at-home mom. Hats off to the women out there who wear that badge with pride as I’m sure it’s a challenging (and rewarding) job, but man, that SURELY is not my cup of tea. And no, I’m not concluding this because I had a baby and actually stayed at home, but I’m drawing from my days working from home earlier this year and taking care of a puppy.

5.) Which brings to mind a huge highlight in our family life this year: our first dog . I’ve had my fair share of good times with this lovable ball of fleshy fur and I’ve learned that I’m willing to defend him – tooth and nails – and am willing to tarnish my good name for him. I live in a building of (mostly) idiots who have no idea what it means to run across a Bulldog, and, well, I’m basically the bitch of the building because that’s how I treat pretty much all my neighbors. You f-ing mess with my dog, you mess with me. My mantra is: “You hate my dog, I hate your kid so please get him out of my face.” (Seriously when I drive into our parking area, it looks like a jardin infantil down there. How can I be held responsible for running over a kid’s bike in that state? But that’s six of one and half a dozen of another…)

Obi-wan chillin' in the sun.

6.) I became a U.S. Citizen this year. That’s been rad and I’m glad to call the U.S. my true home. Love you long time.

Paraphernalia from the Naturalization ceremony.

7.) Getting married comes in at point #7 as a nod to my wonderful husband. He has a thing for the number 7. There are certain things I’d definitely change about him if time, circumstance and dimensions weren’t an issue but those things are minor when compared to the wow factor that comes along with being married to him. I’m always beyond amazed that he continues to like me as much as I like him. Besides the best part, which is getting to live with him and being married to him, the wedding itself was fine. There’s one thing we’d both change about that though: we’d go back in time and we would DEFINITELY.NOT. having a wedding again. Oh we’d get married but we’d leave it at the registro civil and that’s it. In and out, done and done. Alas, that’s not how we ended up doing it and now, well, we have these fancy outfits and awesome pictures of an event we aren’t sure we really wanted. See? Even with that I’m more convinced we’re made for each other.

See? Even at the ceremony it would seem I was telling him we should have City Hall'd it instead. He was totally in agreement.

8.) Knowing myself as I do, I am in complete and UTTER amazement that I went back to school and that I did so in a foreign country. My first year of what is ultimately a Master’s in Marketing was difficult for me. Sure, others seem to think that I’m a simpleton for having stated this but compared to what I had seen and what I had experienced, post-graduate school in Chile was tough. Which is why I’m so happy to be done with the first year (which entitles me to a Diplomado in Marketing) and even more happy to say that I finished with a pretty decent grade point average. At least, far better than what I initially gave myself credit for. Along the way, I also made some great friends! Not too shabby.

9.) 2010 was the year I landed my first job living in Chile. It’s a huge multinational company with a very, small, itty bitty operation here in Chile. I’m in the middle of both of these worlds and at times it’s a struggle. The bright side is that I’m learning a lot and the brand is amazing. Another piece of good news is that in March I have a business trip to a yet-to-be-confirmed location in the Carribean!! Ga-ga-oooh-la-la!

For all of the above, I’m grateful. For point #10, I’m sad.

10.) 2010 marks the year when I felt more distance grow between me and my friends back home. I think that in part it has to do with the inconvenience of not being able to simply pick up the phone (my cell phone, that is) and call or text them the way I used to do when I lived back home. Daily life gets in the way and you watch as one hour slides right into the next one and all of a sudden it’s 10 pm and baby’s so tired. I’ve done my best to keep in touch via email and occasional Skype sessions but it’s definitely something I need to work on for 2011. I miss them and no matter how cool and nice and even brilliant the people I meet here in Chile are, I miss my peeps in CA and NYC (not that you guys aren’t cool, nice and brilliant either. Just making that clear.)

2011, you’re less than five hours away. Where did the time go? 2010, how could I have done, experienced and seen SO MUCH in a mere 12 months? I got married, became a U.S. Citizen, started and finished my first year of school, got a dog, survived a major earthquake and got a job – and those are just the highlights!

What then, I ask you, is on tap for 2011, yo? Whatever it is, I only have one request – just one. It might seem extreme, negative, pessimistic and dramatic as it’s the reason behind why I welcome each new year with a sense of anxiety and apprehension. But after 2005, the year when my grandfather, my 17 year old niece and Pope John Paul II all died within three months of each other, all I ever ask of any year is this: please don’t let anyone die.

On that note, I wish you all the THE VERY BEST for the coming year.

...and may the Force always be with you, yo (as well as the wine.)
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Holy sleepy pants, Batman!

Sooooo… how’s about someone telling me how in SAM HELL people manage to 1) work, while 2) going to school and 3) having kids. Seriously today propelled me into another dimension of sleepy pants. Not sassy pants but serious comfy, flannel, sleepy pants.

Ok, so I don’t have kids BUT – I do have a dog and yes, he’s a high maintenance dog and yes, I know it’s my own damn fault. Between getting ready this morning, feeding the dog, taking the dog outside, running to class and then running to work (another mall), I’m spent. And considering all the things I had to do just to make sure Obi (my fun and lovable bulldog) was ok, I swear to you, managing a kid in the morning can’t POSSIBLY be any different.  (feel free to get back at me when I finally do have kids at some point in the future.)

On my way to class I turned into a hypochondriac. I was certain I was about to literally faint from exhaustion. After running around at home, I was of course late to class. Stressed out and annoyed, I was also feeling achy because of my standing adventure at the local mall yesterday. It was then that I was certain I felt a flood of exhaustion (because obviously exhaustion is a LIQUID and not a gas as we previously thought) travel from one side of my brain to the other. Naturally I concluded that the effect was then the cause of my heavy eyelids and I was sure that at any moment – PLOP. I’d fall asleep on the steering wheel.

Needless to say that didn’t happen – BUT – what did go on to happen was, FOR SURE, the most excruciating class ever to be taught at any post-graduate level lecture hall anywhere.  I guarantee you that there has never, not once, been a more boring, mundane and useless class taught at any university, here or at the most extreme northern point of Alaska.

After about 2.5 hours of said torture, I was sitting in class (still certain that the liquid exhaustion was going to seep up into my eyes, a crazy gray color that would alarm everyone) when I looked around at my fellow classmates and concluded that, despite our age and despite the fact that we’re all professional, executives with very decent jobs, when we’re bored in class, we take on 13 year-old behavior. In my class notebook I literally wrote the following in the top-right corner of the page: “Odd behavior of bored, post-grad university students.”

  • One was playing drums with his ONE pen
  • Another one was checking her Facebook page on a laptop
  • Behind me, someone was doodling
  • Further on down the lecture hall, one of my close friends had taken the label off her water bottle, stuck it to the desk in front of her and proceeded to peel it off and on from the desk
  • Two people down from me, a classmate was answering work emails
  • Rows above, someone was playing “Chopsticks” on their phone’s keypad
  • In front of me, someone was setting up her Boutiques.com profile

Ok so I made up the last two observations.

The point is that today’s class was boring. The liquid exhaustion was slowly creeping up my head and, true story, I didn’t officially wake up until 10:45 am, despite the fact that I got to class at 9.

I’m considerably tired. The kind of tired where, if I was a parent and I had a kid with this kind of tired, I’d drag him to the doctor to make sure he didn’t have anemia or something.

Maybe this new strand of tired is affecting my ability to accurately and responsibly view my surroundings. After all, it was today that I decided that 1) my school’s bureaucracy is that of a fascist regime’s (why do they care if I’ve read all the chapters in our book and why do they insist on quizzing us on that? I’m 33! I’ll decide if I read or not!) 2) the Royal Wedding date announcement has, by far, been one of the most important pieces of news I’ve received in a good month and 3) it’s perfectly reasonable, and even my God-given right, to call each and every woman who says something remotely controversial about my dog, a bitch – to her face, and 4) I have some crazy liquid disease that seeps up into my eyes sometimes, causing that grayish tint you’re for sure seeing.

All of the above make absolute and perfect sense to me right now. That’s because I’m about to fall over, I’m so tired.

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