A Slight Imperfection Surfaces At Work

It is now somewhere around the middle of the afternoon on this, a Friday. I am home now from work because a few hours ago I had an anxiety attack while at my desk. I occasionally get these attacks and one thing I can say about them is that they are no fun. This is my first workplace anxiety attack ever. I was actually unsure if I could get an anxiety attack while at work but apparently I can. I thought that perhaps my mind would be too preoccupied while at work to get an attack but even at work a variety of moods, thoughts, and emotions go through a person's mind, and that is all that's necessary to trigger an episode to someone who has a mental disorder making them prone to panic attacks.

On a scale of 1 to 5 with 5 being the worst, this panic attack rated about a 4. There were several people who witnessed the attack and could see that I was in psychological distress. Beth, a coworker, suggests that she call 911 but I told her that it wasn't necessary and that if I could be left alone for a half hour or so the attack would pass and I'd be okay.

As I had figured, the attack lasted about a 20 minutes or so. Even after the attack subsided there was still a kind of "shadow" of the attack still lingering, so I decided to take the rest of the day off and relax. Apparently part of my relaxing is writing into this nitwit blog.

I appreciate Beth's concern but the look on her face was one of alarm. I made one visit to a psychologist about five years ago and she assured me that I was handling the attacks correctly. She even suggested that if possible I could talk to myself in a reassuring manner during the attack. The psychologist informed me that there are presentations of anxiety disorders that can be completely disabling. She also told me that if she and I happened to meet in a public place, that she would not acknowledge me due to the stigma of even relatively mild mental disorders. I found that unsettling in and of itself.

I think come Monday I will hold a seminar with a few of my coworkers concerning my rather insignificant disorder; I am Katie and you all know me but what you did not know was that I have a mild, almost trivial mental disorder, so trivial that 99.9% of the time the person standing next to me cannot detect it. In fact, 98.9% of the time, even I can't detect it.      



 

A Reluctant Return To Sweating

I’d been back from our Las Vegas trip for a several days when yesterday I finally decided to visit my fitness center. My unwillingness to get back on an elliptical had me worried. I ought to be more resolute than that.

Anyway, the Las Vegas trip caused me to gain four pounds. I did not get on a scale the entire trip so I was actually relieved that my weight gain was relatively minimal. On the trip it seemed like I ate a steady diet of bacon and pancake breakfasts, and Mexican food for lunch and dinner. I had my share of wines and daiquiris too. And there was nothing in the form of exercise except for some relatively short hikes, and some romantic workouts.

Yesterday I started out on the elliptical sort of gradually but then worked up to my normal sweaty ending. I guess I will have to admit that I felt better for doing it. If I did not feel better physically, I at least felt relieved that I did it. Just to show my commitment, I’m going to try to go again in about 30 minutes.

There really aren’t many women at this fitness center who achieve perspiration in their workouts. A number of women do nothing more than walk on the treadmills. There is this class of about six women who do light calisthenics with a trainer. I’m more into aerobic stuff, which generally means perspiring. But I have to admit; sometimes when sweat is running down my face I feel a little embarrassed.

While I’m thinking about it; yesterday I was sitting by the fitness center door waiting to cool off before going outside, when I noticed an attractive girl coming towards the glass door from outside. I'd say she was about 20. Just a few seconds before she reached the door, a guy exited and held the door for her. She walked right in without saying a word of appreciation. Not so much as a nod. It was as though the guy was not there and the door opened automatically for her. I have to say that I was a little creeped out by the blatant impudence. On the other hand, I have seen similar behavior at my various fitness centers, and some of the people weren't all that attractive. As I have hinted at before in this wacky blog; fitness centers do not seem to be bastions of social etiquette.  

An Educational Trip

I’m afraid of marriage. That’s the simple truth. My thinking is that marriage demands too much togetherness. When a loving couple decides to get married it is a little like the Peter Principle applied to relationships; with marriage, the union has very possibly reached its lowest level of dysfunction and will either fail or become less harmonious. I do not think marriage is a necessary objective for a relationship. If I love the guy I would be perfectly willing to stay in a relationship indefinitely that does not have marriage, or even cohabitation, as its final goal.

Marty and I just gave our relationship a bit of a test. We went to Las Vegas and the surrounding areas for a few days. Last Saturday Marty decided that he was a little tired of the winter and he wanted to get away. I suggested Las Vegas. He seconded the notion. I became immediately excited. If I were unable to get the time off work, I was prepared to quit. I was that excited. Fortunately, quitting proved unnecessary. I made a little itinerary of where we could go and what we could do on the trip, then showed it to Marty. He went along with it, although I think a bit grudgingly. I told him it was not set in stone.

Our trip: The first night we stayed at the Gold Strike Hotel and Casino which is about thirty miles south of Las Vegas. It is kind of a weird place. It really needs some updating and is not the cleanest hotel in Nevada. But it was about $40 for the night, which is pretty darn cheap. Marty won $25 at the casino (okay, I gave $15 back playing the slot machines), so it was an extra cheap stay.

The next day we drove over to the China Ranch Date Farm about an hour or so away. I had read about it on the Net. It was really off the beaten path. I had a date milk shake. While we were there we went hiking out into the desert. About ten minutes out, I stopped and looked around at the beautiful emptiness of the landscape. The air temperature was in the 60s and the sun felt good though it had a kind of dusky, winter appearance to it. A mood swept over me and with tears of joy almost coming to my eyes, I felt compelled to hug Marty and to tell him that the trip was a great idea.

Later we drove by some hot springs bathhouses in the tiny remote, desert town of Tecopa. We stopped and inquired, but the pools were divided up by gender which of course for us was a non-starter. Still, it was a fascinating place.

That night we stayed in the town of Pahrump at a place called The Nugget. We had a nice dinner at a steak house inside the casino. Later that evening Marty lost about $30 playing craps and I lost about $25 in the slot machines. That pretty much ended my gambling for the trip.

The following day Marty wanted to go back to Las Vegas and see the city’s sights. I wanted to go into Death Valley, about an hour in the opposite direction. Marty sort of chuckled, shook his head and relented. We drove through the odd, miniscule town of Death Valley Junction (which has a theater, of all things), and a short time later we passed into Death Valley National Park.

The first little tourist spot we came to was long-deserted Ashford Mill, near the southern edge of the park. We looked at some of the ruins there and then I asked Marty to accompany me out across the desert. We went out about a half hour until we arrived at some small, barren hills. It was a weird feeling; the sense of total isolation where not a man-made sound could be heard. I took Marty by the hand and calmly told him that I had never “done it” in a National Park, and it was time I did. For an instant Marty was surprised. For a few seconds he just stared at me. Then he started to chuckle and asked me if I had the whole thing planned the first thing in the morning. I smiled smugly and confessed that I had the whole thing planned since we landed in the Las Vegas airport, though not necessarily "doing it" at that exact location. Ashford Mill will now always have a special place for me.

We arrived in Las Vegas that evening and stayed at the Silverton. We had a nice dinner at a Mexican restaurant in the hotel. Later that evening we got into our swimsuits and scampered out into the cool air to take a dip in the outdoor hot tub. Relaxing in the bubbling water out on a chilly, starry night was for me a wonderful, surreal experience. For Marty it seemed to be more of a turn-on, given what happened immediately after we got back to the room.

The next day I did a little shopping at the adjoining Bass Pro Shop store while Marty did some gambling in the casino. Later we visited Red Rock State Park just outside the city. That evening we toured The Strip. We flew back to Boston the next morning.

For Marty and me it was our first time together of any length, just the two of us. If it did not go perfectly, it went far better than I could have hoped. We both have sufficient amounts of the necessary give-and-take in our personalities. And perhaps more importantly, we give each other a little room to do our own individual things. Marty and I are our own people and we do not feel as though we own each other. This might sound counter-intuitive, but as long as he feels that way, I’m his.                          

The Dumb Girl

Marty, my boyfriend, had to leave my apartment at 7 AM this morning to go to work, so I was up early. With nothing better to do, I decided to throw in this entry. It actually kind of began yesterday. Yesterday at work I overheard two fellow employees -two guys- talking about the Patriots-Broncos game to be played this weekend. For a while I just went about my business and listened, but finally I felt compelled to turn around and put in my two cents. For a few seconds they listened, then I was essentially mocked and dismissed as the “dumb girl”. Naturally I became angry.

When it comes to sports, I’m not exactly the “dumb girl”. Thanks to my dad, I was weaned on sports. Sometimes Marty and I will spend an evening watching the Boston Bruins or the Celtics on TV. Marty has discovered that despite the fact that I am female, I actually concentrate on the televised games. He also knows that I will not trek off to refill empty glasses, or pop popcorn until there is a break in the action. He learned that the hard way the first time we watched a Bruins game together at my apartment.

Anyway, I am now going to show my two coworkers (or really, any blog reader) that I am not just some ordinary sports-ignorant girl. I am going to give game synopses along with predictions of the Boston teams games to be played this weekend. I may not be 100% correct in my predictions, but it won’t be because I’m a dumb girl. 

Broncos vs Patriots

Personally, I like every aspect of the Broncos. The rumor about Manning not being a playoff quarterback is a load of hooey. The Broncos are equal or better than the Patriots in every area on the field, including quarterback. The one thing about my last statement that might, in the end, be the most pertinent is that Bill Belichick stands off the field, on the sideline, and I think he is capable of coming up with a winning formula. I think that winning formula might include the Pats battering the Broncos with running backs. If only the Patriots tight end Rob Gronkowski were available; but alas.

Katie says; I am going to lean towards the favorite, Denver, in this one. Despite good defenses, I’m looking for a high scoring game with the Broncos unfortunately coming away with it 35-31.

Bruins vs Blackhawks

It’s a big game. NBC is broadcasting it nationwide as their Game of the Week. Both the Hawks and the Bruins have been playing at a high level this year. Both teams have been relatively free of injury to their top players. Consequently, I look for a close, tough game. My one area of concern is that the Bruins have not had a particularly good January, but this is the Blackhawks so I’m thinking the Bruins will be up for this one. Another factor is that the Bruins have to play on the Hawk’s ice; however, the Bruins are playing with an extra day of rest. I think the game will be so close that when the 3^rd period ends, one goalie or the other will be off the ice for an extra attacker.

Since I believe that playing on an extra day’s rest pays more dividends than home ice, I like the Bruins chances. It would be better if the Blackhawks had played the day before instead of two days before, but it is an early afternoon game so I think it will still be a factor.

Katie says; few shots on goal, hard-fought, Bruins 3-2.

Celtics vs Magic

The Celtics are going to Orlando to play the Magic on Sunday. Given the two teams rosters, and the way they have played in the last two weeks, it is possible that both teams will lose. Both teams are so woeful that my first impulse is to say that it will be a poorly played, low-scoring game, but the fact is; both squads are also woeful on defense. Orlando is on a 9 game losing streak. Do they give it their all in hopes of beating a weak sister, or does the losing streak make them play uninspired basketball?

Katie says; Celtics win 98-90.    

Roaming Thoughts

Warning; adult paragraph follows…

Last night my boyfriend, Marty, and I “did it”. Sometimes I wonder how many times we've done it the last few months. I occasionally wish I had kept track from the beginning, just for my own amusement. I’d guess it is somewhere around 50. Last night was unique in that I climaxed twice about five minutes apart. The first one I was the rider. Then we rolled over so Marty was doing the riding. A minute or so after he got on top I had climax #2. Immediately following my second one, Marty asked me if I had just “double-up”. I giggled and told him that I did; as if he could not tell. We have both figured out that it is safer for Marty if I climax while on top. With my hands somewhat unavailable in that position, I’m less likely to go a little wild and unwittingly claw or scratch him, which I have done on occasion. But we both know that I’m not about to hold back if I’m on the bottom with my hands on Marty and I feel one coming on. Last night Marty escaped unscathed, at least as far as I know.      

Okay, this might sound totally crazy given that first paragraph, but I actually kind of miss the days when I was not preoccupied with sex, and for that matter, preoccupied with Marty himself. I go through my days just a little more wound-up than I used to. I’ll bet that my resting pulse is a beat or two faster than it was in the days before I met Marty. Of course I know this craving will subside. It better subside or I will be dead from exhaustion within six months.   

I’m an outdoorsy, nature-lover. Last winter I made a special trip out to see how the deer were handling the winter. I had wondered if they were near the starvation point and had resorted to eating bark off of trees. Deer will sometimes do that as a last resort when the food supply has vanished. One afternoon last winter I had an enjoyable time when I spent several hours following what I believed to be fox tracks in the snow. This winter those sorts of activities have barely passed through my thoughts. But really, I miss doing those kinds of things. I guess that's what I really want to say.

On the other end of the spectrum; my feelings for Marty are growing ever deeper. A few days ago I was at working, drinking a cup of coffee, when I acknowledged to myself that I have become emotionally attached to him. I began wondering what it would be like without Marty in my life. I know that I would miss him profoundly. It would be a difficult loss.

I have never told either Marty, or myself, that I love him. I think the time might be coming when I will be telling both of us. Maybe I'll tell him sometime when we are out on a secluded nature trail. I'll just babble it out. What better place to do such a thing than out in a forest.     

He's Not Last In My Class

Yesterday evening Marty and I went out for a couple of subs and a glass of red wine. Somehow I happened to mentioned that I went to Cornell University, though Marty already knew it. One thing led to another and Marty began talking about his high school academics. I somehow knew that he probably was not a particularly good student, but I had no idea how scholastically challenged he was. He confessed that he might have graduated last in his class. He is not sure, but he admitted that there is that possibility. He remembers getting a memo at the end of his senior year saying that he needed to pass certain final exams just to qualify for graduation. Marty half jokingly and half sadly stated that after four years of high school it came down to the final few days in his high school career as to whether he was going to get his diploma.

Like I said, I was surprised by the magnitude of his learning inabilities, but I was not surprise that some existed. When we are reading the same thing at the same time, I always finish long before Marty finishes. Sometimes he has to read things twice and even three times. His apartment does not have much in the way of reading material.

To be completely honest; sometimes I cannot believe he is as sharp as he is. On the other hand, while I watch things like Dancing With the Stars and Survivor, Marty watches The Discovery Channel, The History Channel, Nova and The American Experience. His DVR has nothing but educational stuff recorded on it. It almost embarrasses me.

Anyway, yesterday evening Marty stated that he believes that because of his lack of academic aptitude, his ex-wife too often ignored his thoughts and musings. His former wife is a medical lab tech and has a college degree, so maybe Marty isn’t altogether wrong about that.

Over the last few months I have talked about Marty with a couple of girlfriends who are yet to meet him. Though they do not know him, I think they might look down on him a bit simply because I cannot adequately describe him. It’s a little frustrating.  

I sometimes imagine a party where these girls are gathered together sipping wine coolers. I present my guy and then I step back and watch. What I would see would be after a moment of skepticism from the girls, they would become entranced by Marty’s humor, insight and perception. Off to the side, I would smile and think; well ladies, what do you think of him now? Of course I would already know.        

A Couple of Fans In the Stands

Yesterday evening Marty and I stopped by to watch my father coach his basketball team of kids. Before going on with that subject, I should state that a few weeks ago Marty met my parents. It was going to be a short visit. We stopped by their house for what was supposed to be a just minute so I could borrow something from my mother. We ended up staying for more than an hour. My dad really liked Marty. I think the feeling was mutual. They are both cut from the same cloth, more or less. Marty is a little sillier than my father while my father is more of a physical fitness type. Both can be philosophical in their own way. There is a lot of personality overlap. My mother liked Marty too. He is very personable, which is something my mother takes to. But I know she would prefer it if he were a little younger, never married, not a father, and had a more prestigious occupation, and it would not hurt if it he were paid more too. But if push came to shove, I think Mom would be okay with Marty should he be around for the next twenty years. 

Just before we left, Marty slipped up and called me by my nickname in front of my parents. They are the only ones outside of maybe a blog reader or two who now know I am Marty's "Spec". It got a giggle out of Mom.   

Anyway, as for Coach Dad, the kids, and their basketball; it was actually pretty entertaining. There was one slightly scary incident when two of my dad’s players collided on the court in pursuit of the ball. One of the kids took a head in the midsection and he did not get up for a few minutes. Several people, including Dad, hurried out on the court. It turned out the boy just had the wind knocked out of him and was unhurt. My father led him off the court and to the bench with his hand resting on top of the boy’s head. It was really kind of cute scene. I was reminded of two-plus decades ago when it was time to go home and Dad would usher me off the playground with his hand on my head. 

In another incident, one of the kids shot at the wrong basket following the halftime break. The ball did not go in, of course, and the kid was quickly informed of his error by a couple of teammates. As the boy ran by my father, Dad shouted to him, “That’s okay; you just had your directions mixed up.” My father then turned, looked at us in the bleachers, smiled, and rolled his eyes. I think my father might actually be enjoying this coaching thing.       

More Fitness Center Fun

This just happened to me a few hours ago and I might as well throw it in my blog now, along with a parting thought.

A few weeks ago I had some problems at my old fitness center. I wrote a blog entry about it. The trouble caused me to change fitness centers. Well, I guess problems follow me when I go to my workout facilities. Today I had a little more trouble, although nothing like the incident a few weeks ago.

Anyhow, the fitness center was pretty crowded today. All the machines were in use. I guess not everyone has abandoned their New Year's resolutions yet. I was on my normal piece of workout apparatus; an elliptical. I had been pedaling for about five minutes when the guy on the elliptical to my left stopped and began wiping off his machine. Then I heard the voice of some other guy standing behind me asking if the first guy was done using the machine. There was a head nod whereupon the guy behind me said something like, “Good, I can begin my torture.”

The guy wiping off the machine then muttered something like, “If you don't like working-out, why don’t you just go home?” It was not a friendly voice.

I have been going to various fitness centers for a few years now and it is my opinion that generally speaking, such facilities are not populated with friendly, personable people. That is not to say that there are not outgoing, engaging people at fitness centers, it’s just that there seems to be a tendency towards folks who are not blessed with an abundance of congeniality. I have various theories concerning why but they're for another blog entry.

Anyway, when this other guy got aboard his elliptical, I think I said to him, “You just have to ignore jerks.” He smiled, nodded, and began pedaling.

About twenty minutes later I climbed off my elliptical, grabbed my towel, water bottle, and headed for my coat. A minute later, just as I was about to head for the door, the guy who I had earlier talked to appeared before me. He looked kind of nervous and I braced myself for the worst. He smiled and I think he muttered, “If you would like to go out for a drink or coffee sometime, I wouldn't complain.”

Well, I put up a hand and said that I had heard the other guy get surly and I thought the sympathetic words I spoke earlier needed to be said, but it was not a come-on of any kind. I then stated that he seemed like a nice guy but I hoped my attempt to say something comforting was not a mistake on my part.

My point got through. His nervous smile actually widened a little. He then shook his head and said that he really did appreciate my earlier sentiment and that he was sorry to impose. He then wished me a good evening.

It is ironic that there is no one cooler than the guy who handles rejection well. 

One Silly Grown-up

Sometimes I think that I laugh too much, that I am just plain too silly. Marty, my boyfriend, keeps a hat over at my apartment. He does not wear it often but when he does, I think he looks very cute in it. It is one of those fake leather hats with fur ear flaps. Yesterday while I was alone, I put it on and stood in front of the mirror. I looked positively idiotic. It was worth a laugh, but just to go the whole route, I made a silly face at myself in my reflection. That was worth another giggle. Then just to top things off, I gazed at myself in the mirror and with a snicker, sarcastically said, “A real look of intelligence Katie, a real look of genius.”

That type of behavior has become all too frequent. If this is indeed a problem, it has really only been in existence a few years. To some degree it is almost as if I am un-maturing. Fortunately it is un-maturing only in certain areas of my life. I am still a responsible employee. I can maintain a devoted, full-grown personal relationship with Marty. Well, it is mostly a full-grown relationship. On Friday night in bed, as Marty and I were lying there contemplating slumber, I decided to “rolling pin” him. Take out the microwave oven and I am not much good in the kitchen, but when I was about eight years old I learned that a rolling pin is a kitchen tool used to flatten dough and other malleable foods. I put my arms to my side and simply rolled over Marty length-wise as he was lying beside me. Then once I had rolled to his other side, I rolling pinned back to my original position. I thought it was great fun and I was laughing the whole time. Marty was laughing too but I’m not sure if he was laughing at his being rolling pinned, or laughing because I was laughing.

I’m positive the time is coming when I will instigate a pillow fight with Marty. I’ll probably lose. But I’ll get my revenge. I’ll just rolling pin him. God, I hope other grown-ups don’t act this way.  

Coaching His Way

My mother called me earlier today at work to tell me that my father’s basketball coaching career is now under way, and under way with a splash. My dad had been playing basketball for about a zillion years until a partially severed Achilles’ tendon stopped him cold at the age of 62. Somehow, someway, he was talked into coaching 9-12 year-olds. According to my mother, my father had organized one or two short practices, and yesterday evening came the first game, unbeknownst to me. But my mother attended and sat a row or two behind the team. She apparently was entertained, at least entertained enough to call me and give me the scoop.

It seemed everything was going along fine and without incident until a pass bounced off the back of a boy who was the pass’s intended recipient, and one of my father’s players. What then transpired, according to my mom, was one of the other players on the team shouted something unkind to the boy.

My mother asked me to guess what my father/the coach did next. Well, I was pretty sure what my he did next; he removed from the game the boy who had done the shouting, sat him on the bench, and gave him a short, calm, but direct lecture that probably focused on something like the camaraderie needed for both good team play as well as for the enjoyment of sports. My mom pretty much confirmed my guess. But of course it was not exactly a guess. After all, this coach has been my father for a while now and it isn’t like my childhood was free of such lectures, although the lectures were not usually pertaining specifically to sports. 

Oddly, I never heard who won the game. What might seem even odder is that it is quite possible my father doesn’t know either.         

Katie Could Have a Very Good Year

About 11 o’clock this morning Marty left my apartment, primarily to go to his apartment and watch football on TV with one or more of his friends. I, on the other hand, had decided to go to my fitness center and start the year off getting some aerobic exercise.

Well, about noontime I put on my exercise clothes, filled my squirt bottle, and climbed into my car to go. Unfortunately my car was dead. It barely made a noise when I tried to start it. The car’s overhead light was very dim. As I sat in the driver’s seat of my inert car, I decided to call Marty. He was very good about my intrusion. He took it lightheartedly, and more importantly, he said he would come right over.

I climbed out of my car and went back into my apartment. Ten minutes later Marty arrived. I apologized for being a nuisance but he snickered and said no apology was necessary. He then asked for my car keys. I asked him if I could be of any help and he said that I might as well stay inside where it is warm. I did not argue. I stepped back inside and turned on my TV to nothing in particular. Every once in a while I would glance out to see what Marty was doing. There was about a fifteen minute period when he was gone and so was his car. My car sat alone with its hood lowered but not latched.

Anyway, somewhere around an hour after I first got into my car to go to the fitness center, Marty came inside, handed me my keys and told me I was ready to go. He informed me my battery had died but he had installed a new one so I ought to be good for the next five or six years, assuming I own the car that long. I asked Marty how much the battery cost and he told me not to worry about it. I then insisted I pay him in some manner and he simply shook his head and repeated, “Don’t worry about it”. He then said goodbye, and that he would talk to me later. He gave me a kiss and vanished out the door. I made it to my fitness center, albeit an hour later than I intended.

As I was sweating on the elliptical I became ever more cognizant that at least for me, having the right guy in my life is a great thing. Marty can make me feel good when I’m a little down, warm me in bed, and without a grumble he will fix many of the little daily annoyances I encounter. This could be a very good year.