A way with words

My mother has the ability to paint with words. Whether she uses a paper canvas or crafts her pictures on a conversational mural, she is able to produce striking images. A few days ago, she wrote the following nugget on my Facebook wall and I wanted to share it here:

I go with you to our favorite spots.

Levines bakery and later sledding in Central Park.

We fall to the earth with the snowflakes laughing.

You are here, still, in every waking hour. - Shari Thomas

My Thesis is Out!

I officially hold a Master's degree! Be sure to check out my thesis, entitled "La Vida Online: The Parallel Public Sphere of Facebook as Used by Colombian Immigrant Women in Atlanta."

You can download it here: http://digitalarchive.gsu.edu/anthro_theses/52/

I am so very excited. Thank you to everyone for their support!

Is Honesty the Best Policy?

So I was trying to think of things to write that would be more interesting and I realized, my blog is pretty freakin' boring. You know why? Because I don't really say everything I'm feeling or experiencing. I'm not saying I should include absolutely everything on mind, but I think I try to control my virtual identity too much.

While doing my thesis research, I've discovered that the women I'm interviewing have some interesting thoughts regarding their identities on social media. When asked if they represent their "true" selves on Facebook, each one has always answered "yes." However, one of my interviewees stated that she thinks that people represent their true selves online but they choose which aspects to represent and which to leave out. For example, this woman stated that she only chooses to display aspects of her personality and life that appear exciting, interesting, and nice. I feel like this on my blog.

I don't write about my super crappy days that reflect negatively on me. Sure I write about bad things that are out of my control, but not issues that may be my fault (struggling in my marriage, feeling like I'm failing in my academic pursuits, etc.). Therefore, I've come to the conclusion that maybe I should be a little more honest on here. The blogs I enjoy reading are often brutally honest, not ones that make the author's life appear perfectly put together. That being said, we'll see how this goes on my next blog post (which hopefully will come before three months!).

Home Sweet Home... Almost

So Tim and I just bought our first home! Very exciting! The whole process moved quite fast because the house had been on the market for a while and the owner was eager to sell (like all houses in this market, I'm sure). There had only been one owner who purchased the house new in the 1950s. He passed away a couple of years ago and left the house to his neighbor who had been taking care of him. The neighbor works with horses and needed money to build a new horse barn and, therefore, was eager to sell the house. We got an amazing deal on it and it's in a great location. Here's the kicker: it needs a lot of work! At first glance, the house is definitely in livable condition. However, we have problems with moisture in the crawl space and some other issues. Tim has remained positive and is working with his dad to find the best solutions to these problems. I'm so thankful to have a husband who is so open minded and such a hard worker. He was so worried that I wouldn't want a fixer-upper, but, honestly, I couldn't imagine getting any other type of house. I'm very excited to move in! Our lease on our apartment is up March 20, so it has to be before then. Hopefully we'll start moving in by the end of February. I'll keep you posted on the process!

Too Much To Write About

So it's been way too long since I've posted. Here is my life over the past 1.5 months:

1. Christmas - NYC was amazing. I'm IN LOVE with my parents' apartment.
2. Found out mom had cancer, it was removed, but there's a 50% chance it could come back in her lungs.
3. Bought a house.
4. Started 2nd semester of graduate school. Busy, busy, busy.
5. My baby boy (dog) is very misbehaved. Must get him formal training. Am loosing my mind.
6. Lots of work to do on new house before we can move in.
7. Walking about 543,342,234 dogs each day.

Whew, glad we got that out of the way. Will write more later.

Life with ADHD

I am sitting here, at my computer, trying to start (and finish) a paper that is due today. I must check my e-mail first (just in case the professor gave us an extension on the paper and I write the entire thing this morning for nothing). I come across an e-mail from Zoo Borns (which brings me the top newborn exotic baby animal news from zoos around the world, yes, very important news). I see that the zoo in Costa Rica had a new batch of baby sloths. I google baby sloths to find a cute video. After watching five baby sloth videos, and deciding that one day I, too, will own a baby sloth sanctuary in Costa Rica, YouTube gives me "related videos," where a cute newborn puppy is featured. Deciding that, if Tim and I end up getting a house, we will have a yard and will therefore need a new puppy, I go to Craigs List in search of a new puppy. I find an adorably Miniature Pinchser and decide that we should be its new parents. I find myself wishing that I could cuddle this cute little dog right now but my daydreams are interrupted by Teddy pawing my leg so that I pay attention to him. Can't he see that I'm trying to focus on the possibility of getting a cute little dog to cuddle with (the next best thing to a baby sloth)? I throw a toy across the room for Teddy in an effort to distract him and realize that (since it's 11 a.m.) I should probably get dressed. I go to my closet to find clothes for the day and see my wedding dress, which I really need to get cleaned. I wonder if I'm the same size I was at my wedding and decide there's only one way to find out. A couple of minutes later I'm adjusting my multiple veils and realize that Teddy has never seen my in my wedding dress. I ask him to wait around the corner as I make my grand entrance. However, I realize that the entrance won't be complete without the song that I actually walked down the isle to. I can't remember the name so I google it. I pull up itunes to download the song (because I should definitely have a permanent copy). The stupid Genius tool on itunes lets me know that a new Ciara song is out (stupid Genius always knows how to distract me). I download it instead and go to find Teddy so we can have our first dance together with me in my wedding dress. With the music way too loud we twirl around the living room until we are interrupted by a knock at the door. Suddenly aware that I'm dancing with a tiny white dog in a huge wedding dress, I fall silent and hope that they will just think that I forgot to turn my music off and go away. They continue to knock and as someone begins to unlock the door, I realize it's staff from the apartment complex checking the fire alarm. A man in his thirties enters, takes one look at me and says "I'm sorry, I knocked to see if anyone was home." Thinking fast I reply, "Oh, it's fine, I was just getting dressed." I run back to my room to hide until he leaves, suddenly extremely frustrated that he's keeping me from completing my paper.

True story, the likes of which are repeated on a daily basis in the Dye household.

Can't even justify this post with a clever title

This is embarrassing, but I had a Twilight dream last night. Wow, I can't believe I'm actually admitting it. Hey, it wasn't like I chose to dream that, it just happened. Do you know that Stephanie Myer came up with the idea for the entire series from one dream? She sat down the next day and started writing down her dream and three months later...ta-da...Twilight was completed. Too bad I wasn't the first one to dream about Twilight. Then I could have written Twilight and I would've demanded full-access to all the movie sets a.k.a. Robert Pattinson. Sadly, all I can do is wait until the next movie comes out and go see it along with all the screaming teenage girls. What has my life become?

P.S. I am madly in love with my amazing and attractive husband, Tim, who doesn't even come close to Edward Cullen.

P.P.S. I also must apologize to Tim for asking him (multiple times) if he were a vampire if he would bite me and turn me into a vampire, too, so that we could live forever together. Despite this annoyance, he still answered 'yes' every time. :)

Enough Vampire Posts; Here's My Life

Editor's Note: After I posted this blog post, I realized that the google ads on my blog changed to "Do you have ADHD?", "The Best ADHD Medication!", and "Are you addicted to Drugs?" Hahaha.
My dear friend, Carrie Ott, sent this blog post to me from Hyperbole-and-a-half. I swear, if I had a little better literary humor in me, I could have written this blog post myself. The following post is me on a daily basis, true story.
Hyperbole-And-A-Half

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I am NOT a Drug Addict So Stop Thinking That if You Were and Don't Start Thinking it if You Weren't Already, Okay?
Okay, so I got a check in the mail.
I think that ADHD could be diagnosed more accurately if psychiatrists took a look at how their patients react when presented with a sum of money which can only be accessed after completion of a multi-step task, like going to the bank. Normal people go to the bank to deposit their checks without pausing to feel completely overwhelmed by such a simple process. People with ADD have a much harder time with this task.
A Detailed Analysis of What it's Like Having Severe, Uncontrolled ADHD (and Probably Several Other Undiagnosed Psychological Issues) and Also Needing to Deposit Money in Your Bank Account so That You Can Afford to Purchase More ADHD Medication: A True Story
Step 1: Receive check in mail. Open check. Look at it and think "Oh good. Now I can buy my ADHD medication" because you ran out of ADHD medication three days ago.
Step 2: Get distracted by a flash of light outside. Think that maybe it's lightning. Be excited. Set check on the nearest available horizontal surface which sometimes turns out to be the floor and run to your window. Realize that what you thought was lightning was actually just the headlights of a car that turned onto your street. Feel disappointed, but not for long because now you are in the kitchen and that reminds you that you are hungry. Make a sandwich. Stand in kitchen eating sandwich because your brain cannot be bothered to find a place to sit.
Step 3: Finish sandwich, crumple up dirty napkin and set on counter because your brain cannot be bothered to a) notice that you are holding a dirty napkin, b) think "I don't want this, what do I do with it?" c) come up with a plausible solution to that question and d) take action on whatever solution you come up with. No, instead your brain becomes vaguely aware that you are holding something and that you don't want to hold it anymore because you need your hands to rearrange the magnetic words on your refrigerator into the phrase "monkey butt suck." The fact that you are holding a dirty napkin which should be thrown away doesn't even register. Just "hands full, must empty hands." The simplest solution is to set whatever is in your hands on the nearest horizontal surface just like you did with the check which you have forgotten about entirely.
Step 4: Rearrange magnets to say "enormous mountain tits." This reminds you that you do not have enormous mountain tits. In fact, you don't really have any tits to speak of whatsoever. Feel briefly ashamed of this. Wonder if you will ever get boobs. Start fantasizing about breast enhancement surgery and how you would totally do it if you had enough money. Almost remember that you need to deposit a check in the bank. Don't. Instead, start thinking about the chemical properties of Silicone. Try to recall the exact position of every element in the periodic table to see if you are still smart. Get as far as Germanium and be unable to proceed. Realize that you have to pee really, really bad. Get up, go to the bathroom and time yourself as you pee. Notice that you are out of toilet paper. Panic. Contemplate wiping with the shower curtain - no one would ever notice. Hear Boyfriend unlock door. Be happy that you don't have to wipe with the shower curtain even though you probably wouldn't have done it anyway. Yell for Boyfriend to bring you Kleenex or a paper towel. When Boyfriend brings it to you, he says "Are we out of toilet paper?" You say "Yeah." Boyfriend says "Is it your turn to buy it or mine?" Be unable to remember. Start hating civilization for burdening you with the responsibility of purchasing personal-hygiene products. Start thinking about paper. Paper is weird. We use money, which is made out of paper, to buy toilet paper, which is also made out of paper. We are trading paper for different paper. Almost remember that checks are also made out of paper and that you have one and you need to go trade it in for different paper which you can then trade for a different kind of paper still.
Step 5: Ask Boyfriend about his day. Boyfriend tells you about his day and then asks you how your day was. You say "what?" because you were distracted by thinking about words. Boyfriend asks again and you say "good. I didn't do much." Think about what exactly you did do. You sat on the couch and read Craigslist personals for three hours then you took a shower and got the mail. Almost remember that there was a check in the mail and that you need to go put it in the bank. Don't.
Step 6: Boyfriend finds envelope that check used to be in because you dropped it on the floor as soon as you noticed there was something more interesting inside. He says "Allie, did you get a check in the mail?" You say "Oh yeah! I did!" Boyfriend says "Where is it?" You say "Uhhhhhhh..." Boyfriend says "Really?" You say "I'll find it."
Step 7: Look for check. Look on the counter (of course failing to notice the dirty napkin that is still sitting there), look on the couch, look on the TV - even look in the refrigerator because sometimes you put things in there inadvertently. Finally find check on the floor next to a pile of shoes. Triumphantly declare that you have found the check.
Step 8: Hand check to Boyfriend. He'll know what to do with it. Boyfriend uses one of your word magnets to attach check to refrigerator.
Step 9: Spend the next 10 days noticing check on the refrigerator and contemplating whether or not you should take it to the bank. Start thinking about all of the steps involved: First, you'd have to brush your hair and put on real pants, then you'd have to find the car keys and your wallet - neither of which is easy to do - then you'd have to walk out to the car, get in, start the car and do a three-point turn to get out of the ridiculously tight spot that you are in. THEN you'd have to drive to the bank which is on the other side of town and there are stoplights and left turns involved. And when you actually got to the bank? You'd have to wait in line and then figure out what to say to the teller so you don't sound like an idiot for never remembering how to deposit a check. And you would almost definitely be informed of several overdraft fees that you have incurred as a result of your negligence. Then you'll leave the bank clutching all of twenty dollars that you were allowed to keep after paying off your overdraft fees. Then you'd have to drive all the way back home through the stoplights and left turns and pedestrians and other drivers. And for what? Twenty dollars?
Step 10: Get hungry. Realize that you need money to buy food. Do some calculations and figure out that twenty dollars could actually buy a hell of a lot of noodles. Almost go to bank.
Step 11: Finally decide that you want to go to the bank. Remember that it is Sunday but only after driving all the way to the bank.
Step 12: Be so mentally exhausted from your Sunday excursion that you feel unable to try again on Monday. Rationalize this by telling yourself "well, at least I tried..."
Step 13: Be hit by the reality that trying to deposit a check in the bank means nothing when it comes to actually being able to purchase food. Ask Boyfriend if he will drive you to the bank. Boyfriend reminds you that he works like a real person and therefore will be unable to drive you to the bank. Boyfriend reminds you that you also have a driver's license and a right foot. Assure Boyfriend that you will use both of those things to get yourself to the bank tomorrow.
Step 14: Tomorrow comes. Think about going to the bank. Tell yourself that you'll do it at noon. When noon rolls around, make up some excuse about being in the middle of writing a blog post and reschedule your bank trip for 2:00. At 2:00, be completely engrossed in something trivial. Forget that you told yourself you would go to the bank at 2:00. At 3:30, remember that you had planned to go to the bank at 2:00. Think "Well, it's 3:30 now and the bank closes at 5:00... by the time I got there, it would probably be too late anyway..."
Step 15: Boyfriend asks for the seventeenth time whether you went to the bank. And, for the seventeenth time, you have to make up some tenuous excuse about how something came up even though nothing came up because there is no possible way that you could be busy at this stage in your life. Finally, Boyfriend offers to use his lunch break to drive you to the bank tomorrow. Feel guilty, but also relieved. Offer to make Boyfriend a sandwich so that he can still eat lunch while driving you to the bank.
Step 16: Hear Boyfriend unlocking the door and remember that you were supposed to make him a sandwich. Sprint into the kitchen and put some bacon in the microwave so that you can look like you were caught in the middle of preparing his lunch.
Step 17: Finish making sandwich. Ask Boyfriend if he wants to hear what you wrote on your blog. Boyfriend reluctantly agrees. Read Boyfriend the longest blog post ever and then read all of your comments to him. Boyfriend will be too nice to interrupt you, so just keep reading things as long as you like.
Step 18: Boyfriend finally asks "so are we still going to the bank?" You say "I don't know, should we?" Boyfriend says "Yes" and you realize that when he said "are we still going to the bank," it wasn't so much a question as a prompt.
Step 19: Do not brush hair. Do not put on real pants. Leave the house in a stained sweatshirt that says "Spud's" and a pair of large soccer shorts. Wear slippers.
Step 20: Feel really, really, really, really nervous about going to the bank - what if you actually do have overdraft charges? What if they tell you that you owe them a thousand dollars? What if someone decides to rob the bank while you are there and they shoot you in the head? What if you get in a car accident on the way to the bank and Boyfriend dies and it's all your fault for making him drive you to the bank? What if the collections bureau is at the bank waiting for you and they try to collect all of the medical bills that you owe them right then and there but you only have one hundred dollars so they kill you and use your skin as a bowler's hat - because I would imagine that all collections officers wear bowler's hats.
Step 21: Deposit check without any complications whatsoever.
Step 22: Ask Boyfriend if he can drive you to the pharmacy so you can drop off your prescription for ADD medication. Boyfriend agrees but tells you that he is already going to be late for work, so you should hurry. On the way to the pharmacy, realize that you look like you are some degenerate drug whore and that you fully intend to purchase highly regulated drugs while looking like that. Start to become paranoid that the pharmacist will not believe you when you tell her that you have ADHD. Begin to fear that she will think you are just trying to buy amphetamines to turn a quick dollar on the street.
Step 23: Arrive at Walgreen's. Walk to the back where the pharmacy is. As soon as the pharmacist's desk is within view, notice that there is a very old lady with a walker who is going to get in line before you if you don't hurry. Break into a jog. Arrive at the pharmacist's desk at the exact same time as the old lady. Be overcome with guilt for breaking into a jog to beat out an old woman to fill your prescription for legalized speed. Let the old woman go first. This will be a mistake because the old woman has a question which she feels the need to discuss at length with the pharmacist. Be angry. Hate yourself for being angry at some poor old woman who just needs to ask a question about her medication. Hate God for putting this woman in front of you at such an inconvenient time. Hate Boyfriend for being late and making you feel rushed and therefore primed for old-person-hating.
Step 24: When it's finally your turn, be distracted thinking about hate. The pharmacist will say "Can I help you??" In a disgruntled tone of voice. Snap back to reality and half-jog, half-shuffle up to the counter in an effort to look like you are actually trying to hurry even though you can't be bothered to actually run.
Step 25: Be woefully inadequate at interacting with the pharmacist. Feel like she is definitely suspicious of you for trying to purchase such a highly regulated drug. Try your hardest to not look like someone who would buy ADD medication to sell on the street. Try to work big words into the conversation because maybe if the pharmacist thinks you are smart, she will be less suspicious of you. When the pharmacist asks you for your address and phone number, be temporarily frozen by fear and unable to recall this vital information. Now the pharmacist definitely will think that you just found your prescription lying on the ground and now you are trying to capitalize on it by turning it in, getting some amphetamines and selling them on the street. Be too distracted by your crazy paranoia to actually work on remembering your address and phone number. Panic. Try harder to remember your stupid address. Start wondering how long you have been sitting there trying to remember your address and phone number and whether you will be able to recover from this obvious display of criminal guilt should you actually succeed in recalling your information. Finally remember you address. Say it in the calmest tone of voice possible - a tone of voice that no one with a speed addiction would ever be able to adopt. Speak very slowly so as to give the impression that there is no possible way that you are high on speed. Feel so relieved at remembering your address that you remember your phone number too! Say "So, do you want my phone number now?" because no drug addict would ever volunteer that information and you have basically proven your innocence by doing so. Feel pretty good about yourself until the pharmacist asks for your insurance card. Be unable to find insurance card. Finally remember that you don't have insurance. Tell the pharmacist. The pharmacist will look annoyed, like you not having insurance is some sort of personal affront. Make some sort of connection in your head about how not having insurance will definitely make the pharmacist think that you are a drug dealer.
Step 26: The pharmacist will inform you that you can wait 20 minutes for your prescription or you can come back later. Ask what time they close. The pharmacist says 10:00. Say that you'll come back later.
Step 27: Get dropped off at home by Boyfriend, who is very, very late for work. Feel guilty. Feel incompetent. Make some popcorn and read Best of Craigslist until Boyfriend gets home again. Re-watch the movie that you rented the night before. When it's over, watch it again with the commentary on. At 8:30 PM, remember that you have to go to the pharmacy to pick up your medication before 10:00. Watch the rest of the commentary.
Step 28: Go into the bathroom to brush your hair because you definitely don't want to give the pharmacist the wrong impression a second time. Wonder if you remember how to french-braid. Try to french-braid your hair. Fail at braiding, but succeed at making your hair a matted mess befitting a drug addict. Notice that it is 9:36 PM. Bring your brush with you in the car so that you can make yourself look less like a junkie on the way.
Step 29: Start to worry that the last-minute nature of your pharmacy visit will further arouse the suspicions of the pharmacist. Be almost unable to make yourself go inside.
Step 30: Walk confidently back to the pharmacy area. Accidentally look at a surveillance camera and berate yourself for looking like you have a reason to care whether or not you are being videotaped. Try to act nonchalant. Stop to look at the expensive lotion, like maybe you didn't go to the pharmacy at 9:45 just to pick up amphetamine-based drugs. Finally make your way back to the pharmacist. Luckily, this is a different pharmacist than before. Be overly willing to show this pharmacist your ID. Leave your wallet open on the counter so the pharmacist can see that the name on your driver's license matches the name on your credit card. This will surely prove that you didn't just find your prescription in the street.
Step 31: Pharmacist will say "Do you have any questions about this medication?" You say "Not unless anything has changed!" Because you want the pharmacist to know that you are intimately familiar with this medication because you actually take it, but only as prescribed by your doctor and you don't sell it to teenagers.
Step 32: Go home. Feel exhausted. Ignore the fact that you are sleepy. Stay up until 4:00 AM reading Craigslist and The Bloggess. Fall asleep when you are unable to keep your eyes open any longer. Wake up at 5:00 AM and panic because you are downstairs on the couch and the front door isn't locked and what if there is a serial killer in your house now?
Step 33: Go check all of your locks several times, not neglecting the windows and the door to your creepy cellar.
Step 34: When you are finally almost positive that no one can get in the house, begin the process of making sure that no one is hiding in the house already. Check in closets, behind doors, under the sink, in the fucking stove and under your laundry pile. Be too afraid to check the cellar. Put something heavy on top of the cellar door and go up to bed. Close your bedroom door, lock it and move something heavy in front of it. Realize that you have to pee. Try to hold it, but have to pee badly enough that you cannot go to sleep. Finally get up and move the chest of drawers away from the door, unlock the door and go pee. Return to your room, check the closet again because maybe someone got in there while you were in the bathroom and once you are satisfied that there is no one else in your room, aside from Boyfriend who is doubtlessly annoyed by your paranoid behavior, close the door, lock it and push the chest of drawers in front of it again. Fall asleep.
Step 35: Wake up at 11:00 AM, take your ADD medication (as prescribed by your doctor) and suddenly be able to write a blog post!
Step 36: Be unable to remember how you planned to end you blog post. Get distracted. Start googling shit. Find out that paranoia is a side effect of amphetamine abuse. Feel that you need to defend yourself and the fact that you have always been paranoid even before you got into drugs started taking ADHD medication lest your readers put the pieces together and think that you are addicted to drugs.
I'm not addicted to drugs, by the way.
P.S. I might post something else today to make up for my inattention and also to prove that I am not addicted to drugs because what kind of drug addict would write two blog posts in one day?
If you didn't follow that logic, just know that I am not addicted to drugs and that somehow what I just said back there proves it.

Does Anyone Else Feel This Way?

There's something that has been bothering me for a while: I have no set group of friends. I mean I have friends, and very close ones at that, but I don't have a "group," per say. Because of the way I left things at Berry, I'm not considered to be "in" my group of friends there. It's still hurtful to look at pictures of people being in each others weddings, getting together at holidays, etc., and knowing that I would have been there but I'm not considered for those events anymore.

I have very close individual friends, but each of them have their own group that I'm not a part of. You know, the group that goes out drinking on Friday nights or gets a place down at the beach together during the summer. I know part of this has to do with being married (and with my husband being more of a loner) but it's still hard.

I would say my closest group of friends (as a group) would have to be my Spain friends (that I studied abroad with). I love them so much but I don't spend nearly enough time with each of them so we actually see each other rarely. I guess I'm just longing for that close group of friends that calls each other each week to see what's going on that weekend. I want to be a "default" person in a group. You know, like when everyone's going out on Thursday, of course you'd call Michaelanne because she's supposed to be there. I guess having had it before makes it all the harder when you don't have it.

Sounds kind of pathetic, doesn't it? It's actually pretty embarrassing to admit this because it makes me feel like a loser. Sad, I know, but it feels better to put my feelings down in words.

I Miss My Mom

Waaa! Don't leave me Stafford!

So if you don't know by now, I'm a big UGA fan. Stafford and Moreno announced today that they will be leaving UGA for the NFL draft in April. Boooo. I think it's a smart decision for Moreno (ok, and maybe for Stafford, too) but what are the dawgs to do?

http://www.ajc.com/sports/content/sports/uga/stories/2009/01/07/stafford_moreno.html