My sister read my blog yesterday and called me indignantly, saying, "Hey! Sugar in the Raw is MY thing!" Then she thought about it and admitted that the lap dancing career probably is not going to take off, so I could have it. She's just mad because she's the middle child and everything gets taken away from her. Ha ha ha.

My legs feel a bit better today, so maybe Dr. B knew what he was talking about. The pain has moved into my lower back, but I can wear pants today without wanting to pull them off every hour or so. That's good.

Sometimes I feel like I'm the most ungrateful person in the world. Like, take my job. I have a good paying job, in a mid-sized Christian company, working for a boss who gives me total freedom. Plus, every Friday is essentially a blow-off day where everyone walks around eating snacks and talking about "Survivor." Today, for example, half of the building spent the morning outside working on the landscaping. I'm just so blessed. But then, my work friend comes waltzing in with her 3 week old baby, and after much baby forehead kissing, all I can think about is getting out of here and having a baby. UGH! What is wrong with me? I have such a problem being content with where I am and what I have. Plus, I find myself being so judgemental. Three women that I work with had babies within two months of each other, plus we have another on the way. They are all going to stay working full time. One woman didn't attempt to breastfeed, the other two are on their way to giving it up. And I stand there smugly, thinking, "Well, I certainly wouldn't do that." But the truth is, I'm not in their shoes. I don't know what it's like. It might even be good for me to work, at least part time, after having a baby. And THEN I think, "What the heck are you even thinking about this for?! You aren't even there yet."

Well, whatever. You know, your twenties are such a weird time. When I was in college, I thought I knew everything. I knew exactly what I wanted and where I was headed and who I was headed there with. Now.... I don't know ANYTHING. I don't really know who I am anymore, but in a way...it feels more like the real me, not knowing. I just don't CARE anymore whether I am an "artist," or a "mother," a "rule-abiding Christian," or even a "hippie freaky heavy metal addict." I guess I can be all of that.

Truth be told, I'd really like to be the sixth member of NSync.

My legs have been hurting for a week now. I don't want to be a hypochondriac...but they really hurt! I went to see Dr. B and the blood work came back normal. The nurse said, "Just take the anti-inflamatory pills and hopefully that will work." Then she hung up. I felt really disappointed and frustrated. I guess I am experiencing what alot of people experience with the medical field. My dad was a doctor, so I always had excellent care growing up. People listened to me; we got in to see the doctor early; most of the time, doctors didn't even charge us (Our town was that way-- doctors didn't charge each other's families for their services.) Now that I'm grown up, though....it's different. I'm astonished by the price of medical care. Alot of the time, it's "Here take this pill and see what happens." No, why don't you TALK to me?! Frustrating.

I'm a healthy person, so this leg thing is just so weird for me. It's scary when you go on the internet looking for what could possibly be the problem and the items that pop up on Google are "West Nile Virus," "Multiple Schlerosis," and "Lyme Disease." And my husband keeps forgetting and trying to rub my legs. I'm like, "Hello. Grab the butt, please. THE BUTT." I'm just praying that this is some weird thing that comes and goes, and I can look back and say, "Well, that was sure an odd experience."

It was Memorial Day Weekend last weekend, and with my legs hurting so badly, I laid on the couch most of the time and watching "E!" It was Child Stars weekend-- The Real Hollywood Stories. What a waste of time, I know. But some of them just got under my skin and really disturbed me to the core! Like Scott Schwartz. He was the kid from "The Toy." He also played Flick on "A Christmas Story"-- the kid that stuck his tongue to the flagpole. He was so adorable back then. Anyway, he became a porn star!!! It was so sad. He's just this guy that could never get the fame and Hollywood recognition out of his blood. The only place he could get "work" was pornos. He has all this ambition and it's just never going to happen again for him. I kept thinking, "Come ON. Just go to college. Get a 9 to 5 job. Be content." But I guess that's not the way our culture works. You're not anything unless you are rich or famous. That's another reason why Jesus was such a radical dude. He just didn't play by those rules. He didn't care or even acknowledge that crap. He hung out with losers. That makes me feel better about being a "loser."

May 28, 2003

Well, here I am, blogging with the best of them. Truthfully, I'm not sure what this blog is going to be about. I sat here, at the computer, trying very hard to think of a name for it. For some reason, I kept thinking about my sister and "Sugar in the Raw." "Sugar in the Raw" are those packets of brown granulated sugar that you can get in coffee shops. Not really white sugar, not really brown sugar. Frankly, I don't really like the stuff. But my sister is always (of course, I'm exaggerating by saying "always") saying that if she were a stripper, she'd want her name to be "Sugar in the Raw." I've always found that rather amusing, although something not really worth pondering for a long time. And that is what I intend this blog to be....amusing, but probably not worth your time in the long run.

Right now, in my life, I am married to a very clean and orderly man. I don't really know how this happened. I am not, by nature, a clean and orderly person. I am a cartoonist/artist. I have 3 Persians that my husband keeps threatening to send to the Animal Shelter because of all the hair. I also have a chihuahua named Squirrel who has not learning the fine art of housetraining. I would like to have a baby. I say that so casually. "I would like to have a baby." In actuality, I have been buying baby clothes and bibs for a year, taking my temperature every morning for three months and kissing every random baby forehead that I see. So yes, I would like a baby.

I also suffer from genetic dysthymia, which is a fancy word for depression. I have it under control, with the help of two years of therapy, an antidepressant and a very loving God. I've actually been on four different kinds of antidepressants in the past five or six years, so if you've got a question, I can probably answer it. Depression maintenance is a big part of my life, but not a huge billowing black cloud anymore, so I'm thankful for that.

That's about it for now. I'll write more tomorrow.