Ridiculously addicting

This thing? I cannot leave it alone. It's so cute!

I have another post brewing, about what's going on as far as me starting my own business and stuff. I'll be back. I think. :)

Forward movement! And some backward.

Erm, just one more? So, I know I mentioned all kinds of stuff in an earlier post about trying to lose weight, and why, and my existing issues, and some of the issues it's raising that I didn't notice. Anyway, I am actually making remarkably good progress. A little bit of forward-then-back motion, but overall, not too much of it. I am somewhat less regular about the exercise--my two early mornings each week make me disinclined to get up early enough to exercise, even with the time change. Actually, it's not that I'm less regular, just, um, less daily. There have been some really cool moments--fitting into jeans I haven't been able to wear in... over a year--and some less than cool ones--where I had a melt-down over a cookie. The WeightWatchers thing is working for me, for the most part. I like the part where it's a budget, rather than an absolute list of do-not-eats. I occasionally get bogged down by the irritation of recording every... little... thing. There was a week where I pretty much just ignored it--which coincided with a visit from an out-of-state friend, and a lot of eating out and no exercising (because the elliptical had to be stored to make room for the air-mattress). I had just lost a total of 19 pounds by the week before, and gained 5 back that week. Horrifically frustrating to step on the scale, but, also the week made me realize I'd been getting a little crazy with the points thing. So, periodically, I'm going to take a week where I completely disregard tracking what I eat, to keep me from the crazy-making. It will not, however, coincide with out-of-town visitors again, because that combination was REALLY discouraging. Anyway, this is to remind myself that I'm making progress.

Starting my own business???

So... seems like I write here in fits and starts. Nothing, nothing, nothing, then several posts all at once. There's another post rattling around in my brain, but I suspect I won't post it here because it's probably not really a public-appropriate post. Errr... not that I'm trying to mysterious and aggravating or anything.

Anyway... onto the point of this post, which is: I think I'm going to be starting my own tutoring business. Actually, I should rephrase that. I'm going to be officially starting my own tutoring business. I've been doing private tutoring off and on for the last couple years, as well as tutoring through the campus, but it wasn't a formal, official business. It just went in the "other income" on our tax returns, and, since that's a relatively small amount, it didn't really make much difference. It turns out, though, that if I'm an official business, there are lots of things I can do, and having a business license gives me a certain level of credibility, as well. So, I'm researching all kinds of stuff right now, about what would be a write off tax-wise, about what I have to do to become an official business, trying to find a place to set up a website, figuring out what to do to market my company (how weird does that sound, honestly?), and, well, just sort of drowning in details at the moment. It seems a little (a lot) overwhelming. Financially, I think it's going to be a very, very good thing for us. Truthfully, as far as my ego goes, it will be kind of nice. When people ask what I do, I'll be able to say "I own my own business". !! Does it sound silly to say I feel like I'm actually a grown-up, with starting my own business? I've had jobs before, but... well, I had a job in high school, too... Somehow, this feels very different. I'm really excited about this. And really scared. What if I screw it up? What if I get us audited? What if... Of course, there's also the possibility that everything will go beautifully, too. :) Heh. But, you know, that doesn't inspire worry, strangely.

Bleh. I'm tired. I think that's it for tonight, even though I was going to talk about how I actually came to this decision in this post, too. Anyway, I'm off to bed. I think. After I just look up one more thing...

Pondering this

So, I read this and was going to make some thoughtful and pithy comments, but it's late and I'm tired, and my wittiness (if it existed) has disappeared. The short version is that I would actually like to do foster care, and I think I'd be really good at it, but... Anthony never would. Do it, I mean, not that he'd never be good at it. I had mentioned at one point that it's something I would like to do someday, and he effectively told me he thought it was a horrible idea. So, we probably won't, or if we do, it won't be for quite some time. I don't know. It's something about my childhood that I really treasure, though. Getting to be a big sister to so many people. Understanding that... the world is kind of broken, but that we can do something tangible to make small pieces of it better. It gave me a lot of hope, which sounds a little incongruous, I suppose, given the reasons we had these children in our home. Anyway, I think it's something I could do, and do well, and I'd like to try someday. Maybe Anthony will feel differently in the future. And, we are planning to have a baby in the next year or so, so it would be really terrible timing to do foster care. But, Yondalla's post just made me think about possibilities.

Dichotomy

I talk to my dad every once in a while. Sometimes, once or twice a week, other times, not for months in between. Sometimes, it's easy; sometimes it's hard. I miss him, you know? I miss the guy I remember growing up with, the guy who taught me to throw a football, started tickle fights, took me with him to his work in the summer. Those are the times it's easy, the times I call often. And sometimes? Sometimes, I'm so mad at him, I can't breathe. I want to shout at him, or shake him, or smack him upside the head and ask how he could be so blind, so stupid, so complacent! But I don't do any of these things--besides, it would have to be a hell of a smack, considering he lives about 1400 miles away. I remind myself that 1) he made his choice, and for him, my mother will always, always, always come first; and 2) he's taking baby steps. It's better than nothing, the small bits of defiance, and stepping away from Larry's control, well, it takes time to do something like that, and it's not like it's a surprise that Dad's passive. He's been that way as long as I can remember. But those are the hard times, the times when months pass between calls. It's especially hard, now that Anthony and I are talking more about babies and such. The dichotomy is I'd like my (potential) children to know their grandfather, but I don't know if I want them to know him like this. I want them to know him like he was.

I'm even more conflicted when it comes to thinking about my mom. I mean, she doesn't even want to talk to me, or at least, she's not willing to defy Larry to do it. She certainly endorsed sending back my letter, since it was her handwriting that said "return to sender". So I have even more reason to be angry with her. It seems like the more involved my mom got with Larry, the more she pushed the "traditional" woman's role for me... which... what the hell, mom? I mean, really? And at the same time... what? I don't know, exactly. I mean, it's stupid, but... I was experimenting, making up a soup recipe, and I put in too much pepper. I couldn't think what to do to rescue a soup with too much pepper, I mean, I know what to do if there's too much salt, but pepper? Even after all these years of her not talking to me, the first thing that popped into my head was, "Better call mom, she'll know." And then I wanted to cry. It's stupid, I mean... except, not really, because the underlying issue is that I want her in my everyday life, even with all the dumbass choices she's made, and I can't have that. I can't just call and ask her what she'd do to rescue an over-peppered soup, and what if it was something big? Like me struggling with depression? Or fear that I may not be able to have kids? Or that I'll be a horrible parent? But, of course, that would just turn into an ugly, nasty, messy fight, because I wouldn't even these doubts if it weren't for everything that happened. I mean, sure, I'm sure I'd be wondering if everything would work out ok, and thinking about whether or not I'm actually able/ready/willing to be responsible for someone else's life--eep!--but, I seriously doubt I'd have this bone-deep fear of screwing it all up so badly, of passing on this... sludge to another generation.

It's just, awkward. And difficult. And it's a dichotomy that I don't really know how to resolve. Some part of me keeps hoping for the magic wand/fairy godmother solution. But the fact of the matter is, that as long as Larry is in the picture, there is no solution.

Public persona

I think I've mentioned that this time of year is difficult for me--in between classes and tutoring both--I don't have a lot to occupy me. I turn introspective, and, more often than not, I tend to get a bit depressed. I don't make friends all that easily--superficial contacts, acquaintances with whom I get along quite well and chat freely, sure, no problem. I have my public persona, and she is quite amazing at getting along with people. I mean, it's not like I have multiple personalities, or anything. We all do this, we have a professional self that we present to the world--it's not the same as the self we show at home. For me, at least, that self is quite confident, a surprisingly smooth-talker, endlessly patient, and . The me at home? Not so much.

The thing is, when I present that self, I don't particularly feel like it's false, or an inaccurate representation of who I am. When I'm tutoring, or in class, I generally am quite confident; I'm in an arena in which I excel, and I relish it. So what does that say about me when I'm at home?

Control issues

I know a lot of my issues with weight and controlling what I eat have to do with the household I grew up in. (shush, yes, I know, ending with a preposition is bad.) Because everything was so strictly controlled--we got the crappy stuff, Larry got the good stuff--when I try to change what I eat or how I eat, I feel like I'm putting myself back there. I feel helpless and frustrated and angry all over again. It's not about the food itself, it's about the feeling of control. And I've tried to turn it around, to think, hey I'm controlling what I eat by, you know, actually controlling it rather than just eating anything and everything. It never seems to work. I can logically see that what I'm doing--choosing to eat or not eat particular foods--is putting me squarely in control. But emotionally, it feels like I'm right back where I grew up. It makes it so hard...

I guess, in a lot of ways, my behavior is the antithesis of a controlled environment. Housework? I hate it, barely do enough to keep the place presentable, resulting in massive panic and cleaning marathons when I have people over. I don't want to know what the people I love are doing every minute of every day--in fact, sometimes weeks (eep! Months, occasionally) go by where I don't even call family members to see what they're doing. I don't know how much of that stems from the fact that I knew many of Larry's behaviors stemmed from the fact that he was abused and had no control over his life growing up. To him, the only way to be safe was to control everything... what we ate, how long we talked on the phone (adults included), where we sat, what we watched, what we bought... I guess I'm swinging toward the opposite extreme, really. I guess it just feels so ridiculous to be able to recognize the root of the issue, and still feel the same way. I'm 27 years old... it's been almost 10 years since I've escaped that life, and still...