Yet another toilet incident

This summer I am in the middle of a fieldwork for OT school that involves a lot of traveling. It’s great, and part of why I chose this site. It has been a great time to get a good and close look at my lovely home state, and to bond with my educator and my fellow OT fieldwork student. It’s also a good time to do stupid things.

As was established in my last post, I have issues with toilets. Well, we were staying at a nice little hotel in Steamboat Springs that was probably pretty swank in 1977 or so. I decided to shower before my fieldwork buddy in the morning, so I grabbed my shower supplies and my clothing for the day and went into the bathroom. I took care of my showering business, and then I tried to get situated in the tiny bathroom. I decided to put on my pants first (It’s just how I roll) so I picked up my shirt and tank top, which were on the floor on top of my pants, and threw them behind me onto the toilet seat. Almost instantly, I had a bad feeling about that move. I put on my pants and slowly turned around, afraid of what I’d see.

What I saw was exactly what I was expecting to: my shirt and tank top floating serenely in the pot, bobbing ever so slightly as though they were in a tiny ocean. My mind went blank for a moment, then two thoughts crystallized: 1) I would have to reach into the toilet to get out my clothes, and 2) How should I play this? I decided to not mention my little incident to the fieldwork buddy for the time being. I smuggled the soggy clothing out of the bathroom wrapped in my towel and the “bathmat” towel that hotels provide. When the fieldwork buddy was taking her turn in the bathroom, I squeezed out the excess water from the shirts and smuggled them out in the bag the hotel provided for ice.

Eventually I told fieldwork buddy, and she was a little sad I had not mentioned it at the time.

It may not be a good story, but I like it . . .

I never considered myself to be clumsy. I probably should have. One time before school in 2^nd grade (grade 2 if you’re Canadian) I was talking to my sister in the bathroom. I was mid-sentence and I decided to put my foot up on the toilet lid. Well, it wasn’t closed, and my foot (in my awesome red tennis shoes!) plunged into the icy depths. Pretty sure that turned me off to that particular pair of red shoes forever.

Anyways, I was getting ready for the first day of orientation to OT school when I washed a contact down the drain. This would have been less memorable but for two facts: 1) I have hard contacts, which cost about $125 an eye to replace; and 2) I had up till that point never lost a contact in the 14 years I had been wearing them.

I had a nice pair of glasses that were only about a year old at the time that I got to wear for a couple of weeks of school until my new contacts came in. I had purchased those glasses to have a nice pair to wear while traveling to Africa, where the dust and whatnot made contact wearing less than desirable much of the time. I had pretty decent vision insurance at the time, so I got some nice spendy options on the glasses too, like bifocals (I’ve got horrid vision) and an anti-glare coating that the lady made seem really cool. Those glasses accompanied me to Europe, Africa, the ship, and back again. They served me well during the first couple of weeks in OT school when I was sans contacts.

I had two days off during the week that first semester. On one of those wonderful days, I was taking my time getting ready for the day. I had placed my glasses on the back of the toilet while I showered. After my shower, I used the toilet, flushed (because I’m a good roommate and all), and as the toilet flushed I grabbed my glasses off the back. My finger flexors chose that moment to stop working, and I dropped my glasses into the flushing toilet. I thought “Oh dang it, I’ll have to reach in and grab them! But I will wait till the toilet is done flushing.” As this thought was flitting through my head, I realized that my glasses were GONE. Completely. Flushed to the great beyond, which I can only assume is the ocean, as all drains lead there. I stared in disbelief for a few moments, then decided I should probably call my dad. I had no idea what to do. I am pretty sure the conversation started in this way: (imagine me crying. Because I was.) "Dad, this is going to be really funny one day, but right now I'm really upset . . . "

I ended up calling the plumber, who offered to break the toilet to get out the glasses. I figured that was probably a terrible idea, so he said that that the toilet snake would probably get them out really easily, but not in one piece. He had so much trouble though. He snaked that darn toilet at least 15 times before pulling out one mangled earpiece from my glasses. The toilet was flushing more easily, so we knew that my glasses had made it beyond our toilet. They were probably rejoicing at finding their glasses father, who is apparently aquatic and probably named Marlin.

It was towards the end of the year, so frames were on sale. This was great news to me because I no longer had that helpful vision insurance. And that is the story of how I got D&G frames.

In other news, I look fabulous with a handlebar mustache:

Seriously, I might have to become the sort of villain who wears all black and ties damsels to train tracks.

Let me help you by telling you what you did wrong

In my online search for Magango Man, I have encountered some interesting applicants for that role. Interesting as in weird. These are selected points from an email from an online dating admirer, with my commentary. All personal information of his has been changed. This email was the second I received from him. This might explain why the guy is still single.

I get alone great with my parents. I moved back home for 6 months last year as I was looking to switch jobs and did not want to resign the lease that I had. I am moved back out now to an apartment.(at least there is that) I generally visit my parents a couple times a month. My dad and I share financial thoughts and I have a large role in consulting my dad on his retirement/other finances. When you talk to my mom (Um . . . when? Excuse me?)... you will get a ear full of how much she loves and appreciates me for numerous reasons (Hmm . . . would she join us on dates too?).

So what is your living situation? When do you graduate from your program? Do you have any issues (assuming all goes well) moving to the [city name] area? (Holy freaking crap this is moving fast! And yes, for the record, I do) How is your health and mental health? (say what now? I'll tell you what, my blood pressure is going up currently.) Hope you don't mind me asking... no offense is intended.(I will not be having your babies, so I don’t think you have to worry about my health and mental health. But I’m starting to wonder about yours . . . ) I am a big fan of girls having long hair (shoulder length or more) what are your thoughts on that? (At this point I walked away from my computer because I was so shocked that I didn’t know how to respond. I have never wanted a pixie cut more in my life!) What is your weekly schedule like? When are you available? for chats? for travel? for being visited? (SECOND EMAIL!) Just trying to get a handle on the logistics. My career and training also causes me to ask a lot of questions. (Okay, but at this point the questions should be like, "What sort of books do you read?" and "Do you like dogs?"). They help me formulate how best to create solutions to all sorts of questions. What questions do you have for me? Happy to answer anything that you would like to know. (Why haven’t you been snapped up yet? You’re not intense and pushy at all!)

This isn’t meant to be mean. I could have put down a lot more if that was my goal. My point here is this guy came across as desperate and intense. At this point in the communication process, it was roughly the first date.

Here is the plain and honest truth (and a helpful hint for this guy): if people like each other, they will make things work. They will not let distance or careers or anything like that get in the way of them being together. However, if you try to figure out distance and careers and whatever else before it is determined whether you two like each other or not, it more often than not will freak one of the two of you out. Figuring out the logistics of a relationship should be entered into only AFTER people determine that they like each other enough to be in a relationship.

Dating on the internets

After much debate, I decided to join a popular online dating site. I had always determined that I would wait until I was 30, and if I was still single, then I would join. But my best friend suggested that I join. I was initially offended. “I still have it going on! I’ve not yet lost ‘it!’” I thought. But then I realized that I literally knew no single guys who were my age. Plus, the club scene isn’t so much my thing. It’s sweaty and gross and if I’m going to be sweaty and gross I want to be doing something interesting like hiking or frolicking through a meadow rather than dancing while trying to keep my butt and boobs away from grabby drunk undergrad guys. Ultimately, I decided I had nothing to lose. When I saw a commercial for a free communication month while watching TV alone one weekend night, I decided to take the plunge.

I set up my whole profile, all the while believing that I would never get matched with anyone. The next morning I was shocked to see I had 6 matches. Two had asked to start communicating with me. It sort of snowballed since then. I was a little embarrassed at first to admit that I had joined the internet dating scene, but after a time, I realized I didn’t care. As I started to communicate I started to learn that there are some great guys out there. Also, some really weird ones, which I will discuss at a later time.

Overall though, I have found the experience to be valuable. I have learned to talk to boys, and have even rejected a couple outright without being excessively cruel. I’ve been on dates and discovered that I’m not so desperate as to throw myself at the first guy who comes along. And I’ve discovered that I would be willing to date a guy if I really like him, thus disproving my theory that I have a crippling fear of commitment.

I’m not going to renew my subscription at this point, but I’ve been glad for this experience.

Oh, T

I’m an OT student. For a long time I didn’t think this would happen. I didn’t think anything would happen. I was stuck in the mire of uncertainty that has claimed so many of my fellow millennials. I wanted a career, but more than that, I wanted a calling. Yet in this age of entertainment at my fingertips I never bothered to take the time to explore what that might mean. I filled up my undergraduate years with church events, homework, playing with friends, and basically not doing any real thinking about what I’d do after graduating.

So then I graduated and discovered that contrary to what I’d been led to believe in high school, you don’t just get a job when you have a bachelor’s degree. (Where are the lines of prospective employers? You mean those aren't real?) I applied and applied to places, but during that whole process I realized that I didn’t really want any of those jobs. My roommate at the time was working at a preschool, and she got me an application. I put off filling it out because I had specialized in gerontology in school and I wanted to get a job in that. But finally, per my sister’s prompting, I turned in the application. When I got the interview, I was ecstatic. It went well, but I doubted I got the job. I did, and it became one of the weirdest years of my life.

I could fill pages with the things that made that year weird and horrible in many ways. But all the craziness brought to the surface the fact that I was miserable in my life, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with it, and I didn’t know how to figure that out. I wanted to live be living out a calling, and instead, I felt like I was trying to swim upstream. Due to some drama at work, I quit after about a year and moved back into my parents’ basement. I told people it was because my dad had a really invasive surgery and my parents needed my help maintaining the yard. This was true. However, the real reason was that I couldn’t stay in Fort Collins, in my job, in my life. I felt like I was dying inside.

I started working at Starbucks, going to therapy, and living without intense expectations from other people and life. And slowly, surely, things started to make sense. I realized that I wanted to celebrate the image of God in people. I wanted to affirm people’s worth, especially in times where they might not feel like they have much. That’s why I chose occupational therapy. The way OT helps people to do what they want and need to be able to do is so affirming to their worth. Plus, it is a creative, yet scientifically based career, and that's pretty awesome. I wrote a song about it. I may post it if I ever figure out how.

The Adventures of what now?

When I was little, I really wanted to be a boy. I wasn’t as strong of a tomboy as some little girls are, but I dreamed of doing big things and having adventures, and it seemed like boys got to do that more than girls. I wanted to be an astronaut- pilot- cowboy- explorer- tornado chaser- paleontologist- archeologist, and so much more. In fact, I used to tell my mother that I wanted to be everything in the world except a mommy. I was scared of what childbirth entailed. I have now discovered many, many careers that I wouldn’t care to do, and I do want to become a mommy, so that’s all good news.

I was also very imaginative, so I really WAS an astronaut- pilot- cowboy- explorer- tornado chaser- paleontologist- archeologist at many points throughout my childhood. But my most memorable persona came to me one night in the bath. I had never seen any of the Indiana Jones films, but I came up with a very Indiana Jones-like character named Magango Man. Magango Man lived in the jungle and fought injustice and such things. After my bath, I assembled Magango Man’s ensemble, because frankly, everything is better if you have an outfit. I wore my dad’s fedora-like cowboy hat, the trench coat I had acquired in order to more accurately pretend to be a detective, and the lasso I had gotten at family camp. I don’t recall playing Magango Man very often, but I did do a little Magango Man show for my sister when she was sick, so Magango Man remained in our hearts and minds forever.

Since then, I have discovered that being a woman is actually quite nice, and I’m happy with how God made me. I still love having adventures, so there will always be a little Magango in me. I actually discovered that I didn’t make up the word Magango also, so that was exciting: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Magango . It makes me happy that this battle occurred in Africa. Anyway, there you have it.