Hi all, my name is Nora and I suffer from allergies every fucking day of the fucking year.
How is that possible, one might ask, since I live in a place that gets freezing cold in a way that one would hope kills most allergens in the winter time? Well, person asking, it’s possible because global warming has made winters in Chicago resemble a dirt snow smoothie that someone put in the freezer for too long, and then took out to let defrost, but then forgot about and now it’s melting everywhere.
The above metaphor can be applied to my brain and love life.
I am bringing the sexually arousing topic of allergies up because I ran out of allergy medicine on Monday night, so yesterday was the worst.
Since I am always running out the door to get to work relatively on time, I didn’t have time to pick up allergy medicine in the morning. Since I was too lazy to walk to the store to get allergy medicine with Calvin during work, I spent my entire work day draining snot, sneezing, and occasionally loudly coughing. It was exactly the opposite of suffering in silence.
Before you think, “Wait, your allergies come back after just one missed pill?” I’ll answer this question that I get asked every time I tell this story to someone, which is often, “Yes. If I miss just one pill, my allergies come back full swing.”
After work I pick up allergy medicine on my way home, and I take it hoping it’ll cure my instantly and I won’t show up to the class I have in one hour red faced and still draining liquid from my nose.
Unfortunately, the effects of taking an allergy pill are not nearly as instant as the effects of not taking one.
This means that for the remainder of the day I get to be asked some of my favorite questions,
“Do you have a cold?”
“Do you need an allergy pill?”
“Are you ok??”
All of which I answer with….NO!
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Along with over-caffeinating, I’ve also decided that doing my best work in graduate school, student teaching, and then when I hopefully have a job teaching, I need to practice hella wellness.
What does this mean?
It means vitamins, wellness shots, and drinking lots of red wine for heart health.
This all means that I can’t step foot in Whole Foods without going on a thorough tour of their wellness department, followed by a browse of the wines in search of a 2 bottles for $20 deal.
A few months back, my dealer (doctor) recommended that I start taking B-12 because after a “blood test” it was discovered my B-12 levels were crazy low. She was all, “This shit (b-12 supplements) will get you(r) (b-12 levels) high as hell.” After taking it the first time (with a full meal, once a day) I was hooked.
My collection of vitamins expanded with Oil of Oregano around the time I was sick over the holidays because I found out it was good for the immune system. I found this out by standing in the “Immune Support” section of the wellness mecca and googling everything on the shelves while dressed in very baggy clothing and sniffling loudly.
Definitely scared a few people that day.
Oil of Oregano turned out to be my gate way drug into Fish Oil.
That stuff will get your skin on a whole nother level.
With all these glorious things floating in my bloodstream, I decided to start taking shots to really get my wellness level up. 2-5 of those a day, and you’ll really be coasting.
This wellness addiction has pushed out my online dating habit. And I think that’s something we can all agree was a successful intervention.
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I spent my winter break, and before and after my winter break, binge watching an astronomical amount of shows on Netflix and Hulu. By this I mean I can probably write the IMDB pages for every Netflix original series. Additionally, I watched entire Seinfeld series all the way through and have taken on promoting the Hulu original series “Casual”.
Ask me about it. Or don’t, because I literally won’t stop talking about how much I loved it, along with many many other complimentary adjectives.
Depending on what show I’m watching, I begin to narrate my everyday life movements and decisions in a theme similar to the show.
When I was watching Narcos, I was always ready to kill someone.
During Jessica Jones, I felt comfortable drinking at any time of the day and stalking people.
Casual taught me all about open-relationships and reaffirmed how I am totally not cut out to be in one, but not before my brain considered open relationships as a plausible idea in my love life. Because my life isn’t busy enough.
And now I’m watching Scandal.
Sweet, sweet Scandal.
For anyone who has watched it, you can imagine how it might manifest itself into my life in terms of my imagining I am Olivia Pope. For anyone who hasn’t seen it, my being Olivia Pope has meant I power walk everywhere, furiously type on my computer when googling “Did George Washington live in the White House?”, and drink a lot of red wine. So, it’s pretty much business as usual.
The biggest difference between pre-Scandal Nora and post-Scandal Nora is my new desire to text, answer the phone, and shout the phrase, “It’s handled!” about essentially any question I’m asked.
From classmate: “Did you read?”
Me: “It’s handled!”
Roommate: “What’re you doing for dinner?”
Me: “It’s handled!”
Parent: “How are you?”
Me: “It’s handled!”
The Third City: “Write your blog post.”
Me: “IT’S HANDLED!”
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You know what waking up for the first day of work/class after the holidays felt like? It felt like trying to shake yourself awake after you’ve been in a tomb for millions of years. I was very very far away from a well-rested person. Less time drinking and more time sleeping may have been something I should’ve tried when I had the chance. But you all know me, and you know I only learn what the best use of my time is after I’ve spent my time very un-wisely.
So, here I am, tired.
Going back to work wasn’t really an issue. When your job is spending most of your days with the worlds cutest two year old, you don’t exactly dread going into the office. The real problem with trying to reinstate myself into functioning society came with beginning a new quarter of classes.
I should mention that my new class schedule has me in class three days a week, and those three days are Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday.
This schedule has me all “FML” for a number of reasons. First of all, I’ve never taken three classes in a quarter before. Second, I haven’t had a class that requires me to be on campus for every class since my first quarter (can a girl get an online course?), and all of my classes this quarter have to happen on campus. Third, this is my last quarter of classes before student teaching so each passing day sends me closer into panic. Lastly, I was supposed to write a nutrition paper over summer break, and then over winter break, and guess what? I haven’t done it yet. This paper needs to be done before I start student teaching so just add that onto “Things to Complete Before March 14″.
Stuff that is also on the “Things to Complete Before March 14″ list include:
Winning the lottery
Becoming an organized human being
Stop drunk and sober eating McDonald’s
There are also probably a lot of tests I still need to take and bribes I have to pay, since becoming a teaching in the city of Chicago is equally as difficult as getting into the country.
Two things America hates: Teachers & Immigrants.
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Here comes the end of a year. A year I spent in school, working, eating, drinking, stressed out, excited, outdoors, indoors, tired, overly caffeinated, etc..
I know when years end and new ones start you’re supposed to figure out what you want to work on once it becomes January 1. I wish I could say I was someone who kept the resolutions I make…exercise, don’t procrastinate, stop drunk eating McDonalds….but unfortunately I am weak.
I should probably start exercising.
Anyway, my point is that I’m at a crossroads for 2016. I have a lot of hopes for the year ahead. I want to be happy, I want to graduate, I want to get a teaching job, I want a new mayor. Oh, and I want to start exercising again. I also want to grow all my own food and for my house to always be clean.
I’m wondering what to prioritize…
I’m wondering if my inability to be consistent with my healthy life habits means I’m doomed.
I’m wondering what it means that I don’t even feel like making resolutions because I know I won’t stick to them.
Is this me being realistic?
If you couldn’t tell by the layout of this post, I’m confused as to how to start 2016 properly. 2016 is going to be huge for me, and I think I’m too scared to make resolutions that I won’t stick to. Trying to survive graduate school and become a teacher has essentially made my confidence a house of cards and I think that making hopeful resolutions and not sticking to them will insight an internal game of 52 pick up.
Is this adulthood? Is this me being dramatic?
New Year, new me?
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All Chicagoans are used to weird ass weather pretty much year round. We’re the “Yesterday there was snow on the ground but today I’m wearing a tank top” capitol of the world.
But so far this winter has been especially terrifying.
I brought a thin “Fall coat” a while back thinking I’d wear it til like mid-November and then switch to a heavier coat. This transition never happened. There are days when I’m slightly chilly in the fall coat, but overall I’ve stayed pretty toasty walking around in what is essentially a sheet of plastic. It is December 16.
Regardless of what coat I wear though, I know I’m gonna break into a furious sweat as soon as I go indoors.
I think the holidays happening make this warmer weather even more haunting. If it was February and this warm, people could just be like oh how nice! There’s nothing reminding me of how cold it’s supposed to be, so I can ignore that the earth is melting! But the holidays have paper snowflakes in every window and hanging from every ceiling, so you’re walking along in a sweatshirt and then you look into a store and you’re like oh shit I should be wearing a large coat, why am I not wearing a large coat? Also, why is it raining and not snowing? Also, is earth going to exist next year?
I don’t know about you, but a horror movie about some sort of weather apocalypse is playing in my head right now.
In an effort to ignore the wet swamp that is the city of Chicago right now, I’ve been keeping the blinds shut and playing Christmas music. A coping mechanism we can all agree is normal….
How far away from being the person who tells unprompted stories to young children about how “In my day there used to be snow this time of year, now all we have are wet leaves. What a crying shame…”
Not far enough, that’s for sure.
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Everyone knows that Halloween kicks off the decoration season. In past years I’ve sort of gotten into it, but this year I have been transforming into hyper teacher mode and spending a lot of time at craft stores, voluntarily, so my decorating desire flew off the charts about mid-October.
My first obsession this season was white pumpkins. I was literally female Ahab searching for her white pumpkin. There were a few stores near my house that had some, and I regularly scoped their bounty looking for a beauty. Initially I found one and brought it home proudly to put on the front stoop, only to realize it was way too small, so it became a lovely decoration on the back porch table.
My obsessive quest for a white pumpkin continued.
A few days later I’m at Mariano’s produce section when I see a bin of new pumpkins. Most of them are your ordinary gourds, but then I spot on buried underneath a few others. I immediately dive in, rolling the barriers between me and my perfect pumpkin away, until I have her in my arms.
I should also mention that this pumpkin resurrection happened during a very busy time at Mariano’s and after putting my beauty in the cart I noticed several people glancing at me with concerned looks. Presumably because of my excited whispers to myself as I dug a pumpkin out of a bin at a grocery store. Sorry not sorry.
My wonderful white pumpkin looked perfect on the front stoop. I got a lot of confused comments from friends like, “Why did you get a white pumpkin?” to which I would overly aggressively respond, “Because they’re amazing?”
A very solid argument.
Once after a date, the guy walked me home and said, “Nice albino pumpkin…” to which I responded in my mind with, “Call ya never, bitch.”
Please add this to the “reasons I’m single” list.
Halloween came and went, and my pumpkin was still looking flawless in mid-November. That is, until some fucking piece of shit threw it off my porch and smashed it in the street. This is an event I’m still recovering from, so I’m going to move on…
I don’t have time to think about decoration on and around Thanksgiving because I’m too obsessed with the food I will be eating and making. This year I spent an extensive amount of time researching recipes for “corn casserole”. Which I was originally telling people was “corn pudding” but that just left people thinking I was making a weird corn dessert, so I switched up my rhetoric.
I had baked it the night before, and when I went to warm it up right before Thanksgiving dinner I was three (or four) glasses of champagne deep so I burned it a little. But as they’ve been taught to do, my parents told me it was fantastic. Consider the three or four glasses of champagne when wondering why I couldn’t make a definitive answer on the taste myself. It’s all good, baby!
So, now the big time December holidays are rolling in and I’m feeling my decoration obsession tingle again. I’m with my mom and sister a week or so ago, and they need to stop into Home Depot. Which is fine with me, because besides craft stores, Home Depot is one of my favorite places to shop. As soon as we’re parked I see them–wreaths. A glorious selection of wreaths. The first one I come across I don’t really like, and I throw it back into the bin and say “Gross” out loud. After a little bit more searching, I find my perfect wreath, and proceed to walk around Home Depot like I just won the Kentucky Derby. With wreath in hand, I find the perfect holiday lights to hang. I also briefly carry around a poinsettia, but ultimately decide to not get it. My sister and mom get whatever they actually came to Home Depot for, and I’m in full decoration mode on the way home. After stopping for lunch, of course.
Upon arrival I immediately find the perfect place for the wreath on the wall in the living room. I know most people hang theirs on their front door, but I’m not emotionally prepared for another criminal to come and do something terrible to my wreath. White pumpkins broken open corpse still haunts me.
The wreath is hung safely indoors, and I move onto hanging the lights all around the mantel. They fit perfectly, and the satisfaction I feel looking at my “decorated for the holidays” living room is one I’m not willing to document. But damn it looked good. As my roommates came into the room throughout the day and saw it I would proclaim, “I did this by myself!” Because although I’m an adult who has become obsessed with decorating her house at any opportunity, I am a proud child internally.
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