catheroominations

When I left to go to work this morning, my kitchen looked like this:

When I came home from work, it looked like this:

I hate it.

See in the “before” photo how there are some nice, wide drawers to the right of the stove? Well, since they moved the stove to the right, I lost those drawers. I did gain a cookie sheet cabinet, but, uhm, where should I put my nice, large flatware tray now? The awesome one that holds every single piece of flatware we have? Maybe on top of the counter. Yeah. Or I could put the forks in the top drawer, the knives below that and the spoons in the second to the bottom drawer. Oh, and where shall I put my multiple sets of Ikea-made Rubbermaid/Tupperware wannabes? I guess I’ll leave them out on the counter too because they will no longer fit in the bottom drawer. Oh, and my cutting boards, and placemats need a new home too. Maybe those can sit on top of the litterbox. It’s the right size.

Also, in the before photo, we kept our drinking glasses and pilsners to the right of the microwave and our mugs (many, many mugs) to the left. Now? Well, we shall jam all of them into one small space. And the weight of all that glass and plaster shall bring the cabinet toppling down on top of me one Sunday morning when I make my Earl Grey tea. So awesome.

These ADA improvements they made today are idiotic. OK. The changes were necessary, not idiotic. But why not wait until we vacate the apartment? We do not require ADA upgrades. We are fine with things as they are. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this work in empty apartments? So as to not disrupt the tenants? And not force me to store my silverware in my underwear drawer? I’m just saying.

Our stuff fits used to fit fine in the kitchen. Now we have this kitchen where my stuff doesn’t fit, along with new toilets (in the bathroom, not the kitchen, duh) that make my butt feel huge. We used to have these oblong-ish shaped ones that were quite comfy, but they replaced the one in my bathroom with a smaller, round-seated one for someone with 24-inch hips. Seriously. It’s a Barbie toilet. Although, my feet do reach the floor when I sit now, so that’s nice. Except the seat is so low, I need one of those grabber things to reach the toilet paper.

Must they disrupt our living space like this when we are still living in it? Really?

I used to whine about the lack of counter space in our kitchen. Now I can whine about the lack of drawer and cabinet space too! Oh, and my fat butt.

We need a house. That’s all there is too it. A house with vast counter space, caverns of storage, and toilets with seats as big as swimming pools. So I can feel like my butt is small.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go stare at my nice cookie sheet storage now and play with my 12 butter knives.

Rejection hurts. No matter what kind. Whether you’re getting your heart stomped on by a fellow 6th grader who doesn’t like you because “you’re fat!”, denied admission to a sorority because your daddy is not an attorney or a surgeon, or hearing that your photos are just not good enough to be part of an exhibit, rejection sucks.

I received another rejection email today. This one was for a photography exhibit that I really thought I stood a chance of getting into. But again, I was told “We’re sorry. You’re not good enough for us.” At least now, in the world of the Internet, people can apologize, and pretend to be remorseful for hurting my feelings. Freddie didn’t do that, but he was just an 11-year old punk. The sorority just didn’t invite me back the next day, and that was ok with me because they were all snobby bitches and I didn’t like their house anyway. But finding out something I created isn’t good enough to be included in something I so wanted to be part of makes me want to stop trying to get in.

However, for some reason, this rejection didn’t upset me as much as the magazine rejection. This one just made me introspective. When I received that first rejection email, I chalked it up to the judges’ stupidity. It was them, not me. And “Fine then! I’ll get my work seen some other way! Some better way! So suck it, you, you…magazine that I would still love to see my photo in someday! Pfft!

Maybe “thanks, but no thanks” email hurts less because it isn’t the first time? Does it get easier? Or do you slowly start believing that your work is not that great? You start to realize that you and your friends are the only ones who think you photographs are any good and you really have no business in the company of amazing photographers and who do you think you are? Go back to the kids’ table, you annoying little thing. Yeah, that’s where I am now.

I was planning to launch a photography site earlier this month. But I am uninspired to do so. With my recent rejections comes insecurity. Right now I feel like my photographs are nothing but snapshots with some nice depth of field. Some of them are pretty, or nicely composed, but really. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants a spot in a gallery or a quarter-page in a magazine, or an entire web site focused solely on them. That’s how I feel, anyway. So the photo site is on hold indefinitely. Maybe now I’ll just take photos because I like to. Maybe I’ll stop wanting my work to be in people’s houses, office lobbies, cubicles. (I wish I could do that. But I want more.)

I don’t aspire to be famous. But when I hand someone a photograph, asking them to publish it in their overpriced magazine or hang in their fancy gallery, I’m giving them a part of me. And when they do not accept it, they are not just rejecting a photo. They’re also rejecting me. And prior feelings of rejection come flooding back and I want to retreat to my safe place. So for now I am finished submitting my work to anything other than Flickr. I just can’t set myself up for further rejection.

Besides, Flickr loves me. And thanks to them, I can say my work has been in a gallery. Because it has. Technically. OK. So it was there for just a few hours. But still. Below is a shot from Flickr’s 4th birthday party, held last night at 111 Minna in San Francisco. 111 Mina is a gallery. Notice anything familiar?

And there’s a certain feline that Matte photographed in this one:

Here are a few other shots I took at the party. It was so fun to be in a room full of people who love to take photos. And no one thought anyone was a dork for zooming in on buttons, focusing on cupcakes or taking long exposure shots of the crowd as they admired everyone’s work. People oohed and aahed at Flickrites’ flash set ups and kickass cameras. And everyone went home with some sweet swag. Happy 4th Birthday, Flickr. (You don’t look a day over 3, by the way). Thanks for accepting me as I am and for allowing me to expose myself to millions of people.

I hate springing ahead. And I think that the Monday following Spring Ahead should be a national holiday. I get so out of whack when I lose just one hour. Also, last night I slept fitfully on the couch cushion in the office to make sure Desmond didn’t chew through every electrical cord we have. He seems to think that my PowerBook cable is string and he wants to bite it. Of course it is much more interesting than the numerous mice, feather toys, balls, and kitty tunnel we got for him. His favorite game is Chase My Own Tail While I am in the Litter Box and Then Lie Down in My Litter Box for a Nap.

Anyway. I could have slept comfortably in my own bed because as far as I could tell, Desmond didn’t move from his sleeping spot on the chair all night. He was asleep by 11 and when I woke up at 6:30 7:30 am, he was staring at me, as if patiently waiting for me to stir. As soon as I said his name, he was climbing on me, with his motor going at full speed.

Yesterday, Desmond and Daphne had a nice conversation made up of growls and hisses. Desmond arched his back and puffed up and rumbled under his breath and Daphne answered with a couple of hisses. Then they both made like meatloaves and stared at each other for about 10 minutes until each of them yawned, bored with the showdown.

I am so sleepy right now I could go to bed and not wake up until tomorrow when I have to go to work. But do I really have to go to work? Tomorrow sure would make a good duvet day, but unfortunately I have too much work to do.

Today I received this email:

“Greetings, Catheroo! Well, hello there to you too, photo magazine to which I submitted an awesome photo!

Thanks so much for submitting to XXX Magazine. You are ever so welcome! I hope you loved what I submitted! The editors and the community have spent the last few weeks reviewing the photos and stories. I can only imagine. There were like 4,800 photos submitted. You are hard-working people! There was so much great work - it wasn’t easy. Yes, I’m sure it wasn’t easy to choose. But what I submitted was totally easy to choose. Right? Right?

You submitted:
“Cooking for Dummies” to Split-second Yes! Yes I did! And it so was split-second. In fact, it was split 1/160th of a second!

We’re sorry to inform you that your work was not chosen for publication in this issue. Excuse me. What? You’re sorry? Don’t be sorry! Just put my photo in! What’s the big deal? We know you put a lot of time and effort into it, and we appreciate it. Uhm also? That photo got over 200 yes votes and over 50 favorites. So several people liked it. Why didn’t you? Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on your head as a small child? Sometimes truly great photos don’t get selected because they’re not quite right for the theme, OK. Uhm. Pretty sure this was right for the theme. or don’t quite fit in the magazine’s limited pages. So put it on the cover then! You do have to have a cover don’t you?

Please don’t be discouraged. Too late. I feel like a heaping pile of heifer dung. There’s always another theme to submit to, and we hope to see your work in the running again! So you can take my work and stomp on it with your dirt-encrusted boots? Oh, by the way, those pants make you look totally fat.

Sun sets over Silicon Valley

Originally uploaded by catheroo

I am posting this because I am procrastinating. I should be leaving for work now, but I would much rather look at this picture. I would also like it to be sunset so the work day would be over already. Ugh.

In honor of National Grammar Day, I thought I’d share with you some of my biggest pet peeves regarding grammar. I realize these sound accusatory like I’m scolding you (yes you) for committing these heinous grammatical crimes, but these are directed toward no one in particular. I’m just venting. Here they are in no particular order (despite the numbers on the list):

1. Please, please, spell definitely correctly. It is not definAtely. Spell it right. With an i.
2. It’s is the conjunction of it is. Its (with no apostrophe) is the possessive of it. Also, other pronouns have possessives. It’s yours (not your’s), ours (not our’s), hers (not her’s) and his (not hi’s).
3. There is a book on the table. Not their is a book on the table or they’re is a book on the table. Their is possessive. They’re is the conjunction of they are. If a book belongs to more than one person it is said to be their book. There is their book that they’re very proud of. Got it?
4. Your is possessive. (Damn, these possessives give people all sorts of trouble.) You’re is the joining of you and are. You’re being incorrect in your grammar use when you use your instead of you’re.
5. Now this one is tricky. I don’t know why the rule is this way, but it’s by accident and on purpose. It is not on accident. (Funny, I never hear anyone say, “I did it by purpose.”) Example: I smashed into the ASS UV by accident. I didn’t do it on purpose. I understand the confusion here because why is on OK for purpose, but not OK for accident. I’ll tell you why. Because. That’s why.
6. This last one is not so much a grammar peeve, but a peeve in general. If you sign your emails with BRGDS, it does not at all convey the same sentiment as if you sign it Best regards. Because, you most definItely are not conveying your best regards if you can’t even take the extra keystrokes to type out the entire TWO WORDS. Do not shorten it to BRGDS. For all I know you could be signing it Bitchy Ridiculously Gassy Dip Shit.

This concludes my rant on grammar for the day. Until late this morning I didn’t know today was even a “holiday.” But had I known, I would have stood on the street corner holding a large piece of cardboard with grammar lessons such as the ones listed here. Maybe I could have made some extra dough.

*Today will also be forever remembered as the day that Brett Favre announced his retirement from the Green Bay Packers. Which, by the way, I would not have cared about before I met my husband. But because I married into a Packer family, today I’m sad.

I am not patient. I am an emotional fidget and feel a general unease when I am expecting something. I don’t wait well. If I am told I’ll have an answer/thing/test result by a specific date, and that date passes, I get very…very…well…impatient. I become agitated even before the specific date comes. It’s the waiting. It drives me crazy.

The mail at our house usually arrives by noon. If I’m home on a weekend, and I hear the mailman I will wait until I hear him slam the mailbox doors, and immediately go see what has arrived for me. Even if I am not expecting something specific. There might be a random check in there from someone or something, you know? My husband doesn’t usually bring in the mail. I remember walking with him to the mailbox before we lived together and he had days’ worth in the box. But for me, it’s the First Thing I Do when I get home. I gotta see it! Now!

I regularly order my lunch online from this place, so that when I arrive, it is ready and waiting for me on the pick-up shelf, with my name on the bag. Why order ahead when you have to wait in line once you get there to pick it up? And God forbid having to talk to a person to make the order. I don’t have time for idle chit chat. More waiting for my food! Gah!

I am a busy person. OK. Sometimes not really terribly busy, but I still hate waiting.

Here are four things I am currently waiting for (erm…I mean four things for which I am currently waiting”):

1. My car. I want my baby back, and now would be a good time to return it to me. Cuz remember when you said I’d have it by the 26th? That was last week, Mister. And you had an extra day last month to finish the work, and I still don’t have it. Please hurry. Kthanksbye.
2. An email from JPG Magazine either congratulating me for my outstanding photo or rejecting my sucky-ass photo I submitted for the upcoming issue. In one case, I shall jump around the house and clap and laugh and dance in circles and think I am the Most Awesomest Person Ever in the Whole Wide World. Should the email begin with “We at JPG Magazine regret to inform you…” I will pout and stomp my feet, think my every photo I ever took was a steaming pile of crap, and vow never to take another photo again. Until…ooh, look! Kitties!
3. Confirmation that I am one of the 20,000 registered runners to Run Like a Girl. This even has become so popular, they had to set up registration as a lottery system this year and the chosen few thousand runners will be notified on April 1. It’s completely moronic that I am waiting for this right now because I cannot even register for the lottery drawing until tomorrow. But come ON! Can’t we move this process along? (tapping toes madly)
4. About 35 pounds to disappear from my body. This is taking forever. Possibly because I have not made any changes to my eating habits to facilitate such. (I have no trouble waiting when it comes to starting a diet. Isn’t that funny?) But really, is it that bad that I can’t order my daily sandwich without throwing in the fresh-from-the-oven, big-as-my-face chocolate chip cookie for dessert? I mean, in the grand scheme of things? I only eat ONE per day. It’s not like I scarf 20 of them or anything. Gawd. What do you want from me???

So, where do you put yourself on the patience/impatience spectrum? Are you sitting by me bouncing your knee and biting your nails in nerve-wracking angst? Or are you way over there at the other end (Hello over there!) with the Zen folks, doing meditative breathing and reciting passages from the Book of Buddha?