168 hours in a week

168 hours per week. 50 (+ any amount) spent at work, 40-55 spent sleeping, and 63-78 hours left for me. What do I do with those 63-78 hours? Not enough that’s critical.
4 spent at yoga, 2-3 spent walking to and from yoga, 3-8 spent running, to leave 48-69 left. I watch my shows (have to keep up with “Girls” after all!), eat too much, knit sometimes, spend too much time on Tumblr.
And my week is over.
I need to prioritize my time. I’ve made a schedule. It involves all necessary aspects of my day (work, running, yoga, volunteering, and studying) and leaves multiple hours per day for other engagements.
If I would follow the schedule I’d be gold, but I’ve never been good at following schedules I set for myself. Too much work.

Unprofessional behavior (tut tut)

Lemme get this straight.
It’s okay if the guys watch a sports game for an hour during work.
It’s okay if people talk about movies for half an hour instead of being immersed in paperwork.
It’s perfectly fine to make personal phone calls during the hours of 8-11 and 12-1700.
It’s not okay to spend fifteen minutes taking a mock promotion test to prepare for my real promotion test.

I don’t…

okay.

Yes Sir, thank you Sir.

P.S. Searching Facebook for 20 minutes for something I may have posted, and re-creating Bill Nye and Ken Hamm’s recent debate for 40 minutes are also okay things.
Studying for an official promotion test is still not okay.
P.P.S. It’s also okay to take a personality test during duty hours. Still no practice tests. God forbid.

Do you remember the listening to option on Xanga? I don’t even know if it was a thing in the end. Or if it’s a thing in 2.0. Is anyone relevant even on 2.0?

Anyway, I’m listening to Hanna Georgas singing “Millions”. It was on Girls. Do any of you watch Girls?

When my sisters (16 and 19) tell me that they watch shows like Girls I tell them to stop. Because they’re so young. But they’re not really. When I was 16 I watched worse things than shows about things that are relevant in the life of a Girl these days. So why do I hate that they watch it?

I don’t know.

I need to get back to writing. Real writing. Writing about things that are real and relevant and sustainable. In my Senior year of HS the local paper wanted to pick up my stories. What happened to that Molly? I knew what questions to ask during an interview in order to get the facts. I knew exactly how to phrase things so that people would care.

I want to get back there.

My Mother

The best date is with yourself. My Mother taught me that during my formative years, and it will always ring true. She’d drop my siblings and I off at a practice or class or youth group or whatever we were doing at the time, and she’d take herself out for a glass of wine and an hour to herself in a corner booth.

She always gets the corner booth. It doesn’t matter if she’s alone or has friends. I don’t know how she does it away from home, but in our town everyone knows her. She’ll walk into Applebees (or whichever restaurant she likes) and the hostess will intentionally ensure that there is a corner booth cleared for her. I’ve seen people be moved so that Mom can have a corner booth. It’s not that she demands it or anything. She’s really a sweet lady, and hates to see people go out of their way for her. I think she must have made her preference known at some point (in her quiet way), and it not only stuck, but spread. Because everyone loves (and respects) my Mother.

Everyone but her children.

Don’t get me wrong…I love her. 16 loves her, and 13 is up in the air (because. Well. He’s 13). 19 moved out of the house recently because she was snarky and Mom asked her to leave the table. And maybe get a job soon. 24 doesn’t talk to anyone. 38 finally Skyped the parents the other night (after about 2 years of silence), and everyone is happy about that.

I’m in contact with everyone, but that’s because I demand it. If someone un-friends me on Facebook or blocks my number I find their friends and I make shit happen. Their friends sympathize – everyone’s got family after all.

But what do I do with 19 and 24? No one has slighted them. It’s in their minds. People who love them have asked them to take responsibility (they ARE adults after all), and it makes them angry. How do we make that anger go away?

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

But back to dating yourself.

Today I went out and found a margarita and some bulgogi. I brought Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy with me, and I sat in my booth and read for an hour and a half. The waitress was wonderful. I was carded for the first time since coming into S Korea, and I congratulated her on that fact.

These are the times when shit gets done internally. When I date myself. When I dress up and buy myself a drink and read and don’t speak to anyone else except to order and say “thank you”. This is when I calm the chaos and ride out any storms.

Thank you Mom.

Endex

While I thank the good lord on high almighty for the sound of Endex, hearing “Proud to be an American” blast over the giant voice system is not a way I ever want to be woken up again.

It’s chill that we’re super patriotic. We are the US Military after all. It seems correct for us to be patriotic.

But holy jeez I jumped a mile out of my bed and about peed my pants.

Bread

Making bread has such a calming effect, and it takes so little time. Yes, the rising takes a few hours, but the mixing and kneading and separating takes all of fifteen minutes. And when you’re done, you get to put it in a bowl and let it rise and smell the smell of bread dough wafting through your home. And then you see it rise and it’s like magic.

*Poof* MAGIC.
“What’d you do, pull a rabbit out of a hat?”
“No, better! The size of my ball of dough tripled.”

Then you beat it and separate it and let it rise again in the pans, and those two or four or however many teensy balls of dough rise to loaf height. And you put them in the oven for a mere twenty minutes and they rise a bit more! WOW.

I love making bread.

I do this for you

That was my thought this morning, when I awoke to a 0430 recall.

Okay, that’s a lie. My first thought was, “what the actual fuck I’ve been asleep for like three hours WE WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE RECALLED UNTIL TONIGHT I HATE THIS FREAKING SHIT”.

But then I went into work, put on my uniform, and saw the pictures of my family that are on my desk. That is when I thought, “I do this for you”.

So that 19 can afford a cell phone and not eat ramen for every single meal.

So that 16 and 13 can go to ski club and have team shirts. So that they can experience what I got to when finances were better.

So that Mom doesn’t have to worry as much about her car payment.

So that Dad can concentrate on other things.

It’s not much, but it’s something. They’d be fine without me, but I remember, when I’m angry with work, that they’re finer with me. I could help them out if I was still subbing at elementary schools and working nights at the pizzeria, but it wouldn’t be quite the same. It wouldn’t feel the same.

The way I get through this is remembering that they need me and the small amount of support I can provide (even though they don’t really).

On a side note, my Supervisor didn’t wake up for the recall so I got to go beat his door down. That was fun. I also pounded on two of the other guy’s doors (one was asleep and one was in the shower), and one told me that I “yell like a Mom”. Guess that means people listen when I yell yo. Good to know.

Also, I’m trying to sleep now so that I can go back in for my shift at 1700, but I’m sick to my stomach. Like. Literally. It’s horrible. I’ve puked twice.

So instead of sleeping I’ve started making bread (it’s rising in the pans now. Might be ready for the oven before I leave! If not then I’ll leave a note for my day shift roomie and maybe she’ll be nice enough to stick them in for me) and put together the pasta salad (it’s freaking amazing. Penne, chicken, tomato, feta, with italian dressing. I’m so happy) that will be my “lunch” (midnightish) because MRE’s are the bane of my existence. I’m so glad I went grocery shopping on Friday. A lot of people planned on going today (we all hate MRE’s with a passion and they are the only available food during this next week). Stinks for them. Glad I have some extra so I can share.