#thestruggleisreal

It has been over two years since my last post, and I wish I could say that so much has changed...but not really.

I have a new job...but I still feel 'stuck'
I have a new address...but I still don't have a 'home'

I still whine about the same things, I still run away to Disneyland, and I still live too far away from Broadway shows.

So why am I writing now? Well, if my life were a sitcom, today's episode would be called 'A Hardware's Night' or 'Hardware Times Come Again No More' or some other cutesy play on words that would accompany the events that led to the minor freak out I had at the hardware store today.

I am a girl. I am single girl. I am a single girl that sheds like a golden retriever. My hair gets everywhere, and all of the sudden my shedding has caused my bathroom sink to drain v e r y  s l o w l y...

There was a product that my dad used to use in my bathroom sink when I lived at home, since this product unclogged the sink I shared with my equally shedding sister, I figured it was strong enough to fix my clog as well! But this industrial strength hair-dissolver, sink-unclogger stuff isn't something a person can just buy at Target, I had to go to a hardware store.

I feel I'm decently equipped when it comes to minor household fixes. Just yesterday, I helped my dad with a light fixture at my parents' house, but walking into that hardware store made me feel like a stupid little girl.

I didn't know where to look, what to look for, who to ask or what to ask for. I just felt so helpless and idiotic. Part of me was angry because I'm a feminist and I should know these things just as well as any man, but part of me was upset because I'm single and I don't have a husband to take care of this stuff for me.

This has been the identity crisis I've been struggling with for years...I need to know this stuff, but I don't want to need to know this stuff. Any of it. Unclogging sinks, fixing lights, getting my oil changed or my tires rotated...I don't want to be helpless, I just want to be helped out!

Oops...I Did It Again

Remember elementary school? When you had a crush on someone, you would show them how much to liked them by teasing them, calling them names and/or chasing them around the playground. I want to know at what age 'normal' people start owning up to their feelings...because I'm pretty sure I'm still a bit of a second grader when it comes to this kind of stuff. About a week ago I needed some advice about an issue I was having with my car. Cars are super confusing for one thing. Pounds of air? Inches of air? What is that about? Also, can my car just come right out and tell me what is wrong with it. Like, if I need air in my tires, can there be a light on my dash that actually says 'tires need air' instead of some crazy hieroglyphic? Anyway, this isn't about my car, or her tires...it's about the question I had about my car. Someone (male) gave me some actual information...and my reply was snarky and sarcastic. My MO is my cynical charm...and for some odd reason it's not working...

Why do I always do this? Whether I 'like like' a guy, or we're just friends....why am I mean?

I came, I saw, I fixed the problem

I got in my car this morning, and one of the hieroglyphics on my dash board was trying to tell me something. There was this little symbol lit up in orange (the -warning- color) that looked like an exclamation point inside a cauldron. Was my car trying to tell me I was late for potions class? Then I remembered I don't go to Hogwarts. So, I decided to try and decipher this message using my decoder (aka-owner's manual); the verdict: low tire pressure...so I look up the tire section of the manual and I'm supposed to be packing 32lbs psi in each tire.
I went to the service station on my lunch break, and after getting over the initial shock that the Shell station charges for air--I was very proud of my self for fixing the problem on my own. While it's probably a completely normal thing for people to put air in their tires, and I shouldn't feel special for having done so-I always feel a little 'I am woman, hear me roar' whenever I can tackle a car problem by myself.

That's the story of the day. The End.