You know that episode of Arrested Development where the Bluth kids all start mocking their mom and the ever-charming little Buster says, "Yeah. Mom's awesome. Maybe we should call her!"
That's me with school right now.
I am freaking loving this class. It's called Advanced Negotiations and Conflict Resolution. The professor is hilarious and engaging, the subject is incredibly useful, and I love all the psychological tidbits I'm figuring out about myself and those around me. Far from being encouraged to "win at all costs", we're learning how best to approach problems, extract information from our counterparts, and use the whole shebang to create solutions that works best for all involved. It's very cooperative and positive and cool. All good things.
But why do I ultimately love it so?
Mock negotiations.
That's right. In each and every class, we are given a role in a case. We have specific information about our character's feelings, interests, and positions. We are expected to take this information, get together with our counterpart(s), and resolve whatever issue is at hand. Everyone looks forward to this part of class, because we get to hone our skills, etc., etc., etc.
Me? I like playing the part.
As the advertising editor of a newspaper, I was understanding about my editor's journalistic integrity. As a union representative, I wanted to help my management to cut costs without damaging the standard of living of my membership. As a VP at a technology company, I wanted to share information about potential new CFOs to find the best fit for the whole team. As the owner of a woodworking facility, I was more than willing to pay off my client's loan to ensure payment of a questionable invoice.
But is it too much?
Here's how the situation goes, each and every time.
Me: So wonderful to see you, [counterpart role]. I'm so sorry our last discussion didn't go well. I am truly embarrassed that I resorted to hurling expletives your way!
Counterpart: Um, so I have all the papers here, I just need to check my numbers before we get started...
Me: The paperwork from your accountant? I understand, I also met with mine before we get together. The numbers can get so confusing...
Counterpart: [Confused.] Wha? No, the stuff in the case...
Me: Your briefcase? Not a problem, [counterpart role]. So how's the wife?
Counterpart: [Uncomfortable.] Um...
Or something like this!
Me: Are you kidding me? We can't accept this deal, how are we supposed to sell this to the union?
Team member: Well, it's already 12:30, and I have stuff to do this afternoon...
Me: You'd put personal commitments ahead of our union? I can't listen to that -- we were elected to protect their best interests at all costs. If you have a dentist appointment or your kid has a piano recital or whatever...
Team member: [Confused.] Wha? No, I have class...
Me: Pilates? Don't even start with that yuppie stuff. We are not here to let management walk over us because we have pilates...
Team member: Huh? I just mean, we don't have to win all of them, we're out of time...
Me: Let's get back in there and fight for our people!
You get the picture.
I don't know why, but I find the whole thing freakin' endlessly hilarious. It's so embarrassing and totally idiotic, but it really makes me laugh. Me being one person. Because nobody else is.
It's no wonder the people with whom I study think I'm a complete losah.
I went to my first spinning class today!
I was stupidly nervous before going, as the last class I took resulted in humiliation and a downward shame spiral. I am not particularly good with being pushed too hard -- rather than motivating me, it tends to fill me with ultra-anxiety and make me retreat into my little shell. I'm someone who likes to work out on her own, and the last time I worked out with a traineer I threw up and then cried and then never went back. So, yes, I was afraid. But I registered last night with a sheer determination to try new things for the new year.
I arrived 20 minutes early. The studio was hot as hell, and I began to wonder if it was a bad sign that I was sweating before my class even began. I notified the girl at the desk that I was appropriately fearful and she laughed (nicely, not like an evil jackal) and told me I had nothing to worry about.
Fine. I got ready and watched the end of the evidently professional class before me (hah?). There was sweat flying everywhere. Ew.
In any case, when it ended, the very sweet instructor led me and a few other newbies to our bikes, helped us to get set up, and the fun began. Okay. Spinning is awesome. We did first position (hands in the middle!), second position (hands at the curves!), third position (hands at the ends, ass off the seat!), standing, jumping, increasing tension, sprinting, etc., etc. It was painful and my legs and ass are feeling the burn even an hour later (and will no doubt be all the worse off tomorrow), but it ruled.
More than anything, I was amazed that I could make it through the class. I'm ashamed to admit it, but there was a time when something far less would have me utterly wiped out. I was so unhealthy and out of shape a year ago, and I feel like I'm a totally different person now. I never in a million years thought that I would ever enjoy being active (even though it hurts my ass). I prefer this edition of me.
In the meantime, my boytoy is embracing street hockey.
He's taken up with a rogue gang of aging (aged? hah) boys who like to play on Sundays. The first time he went, he was flat-out half dead upon his return and vowed to start going to the gym to build up his cardio. He was ultra-pleased to announce today that he was able to play for a full two hours, scored a few goals, was fought over as a goalie by both teams, and saved a penalty shot or something like that. Yeah, I was half listening. The main thing is, he's enjoying himself.
In any case, I'm so pleased that we both have fun new activity things going on. I feel like we're getting healthier, and that is pretty darn good for the long-term.
Alrightie, I got into a class in the upcoming intensive term today. This means? I can finish up early.
This semester:
Intensive - one elective
Standard - two electives
Summer:
May - one elective (if something that isn't finance is available)
Standard - three core courses (required)
Fall:
Standard - two electives
Winter 2008 intensive:
One or two electives (depending on whether I get a summer one in)
And then? I'll be done. If all continues according to plan, I could be finished the MBA in mid-January 2008. And then I'll post this awesome graphic.
Excitement.
We went for our traditional New Year's Eve route of doing an awesome little bar. No cover! Allegations of being at capacity towards lame-os! Kickass music! Cheap drinks! "Dick in a Box" played numerous times throughout the evening!
I wore someone's hat:
Dave is innocent:
Who's that guy?
Celebration:
I change hats:
Little Stewie Griffin:
Holiday devilhorns:
The new year definitely started with a bang.
I was so pleased to just discover that I wrote my 2006 resolutions here, and I'd met all of them. Yay! So in hopes of meeting these new aspirations, I will continue the public, incredibly vain blogging of the 2007 goals.
(1) The Toughness Conundrum. Find a happy medium between trying to be more tough and trying to be more sensitive. I used to have a really hard time being tough (i.e. asking for what I want, not letting myself be taken advantage of, being too soft to avoid hurting people's feelings, etc.), so I worked really hard on that for the last few years -- I think with a pretty decent level of success (though certainly not perfect, hah). That said, I often find myself trying so hard to be more frank that I find myself feeling like a bit of a jerk, like I'm being unnecessarily demanding. I don't know if there is a happy medium, but I'm going to keep working on it.
(2) Professional Maturity. I find myself endlessly and incredibly frustrated by stupidity that doesn't even directly affect me at work -- it's a real waste of energy, stupidly juvenile, and I need to learn to better focus on the things that I have control over and be happy with those successes.
(3) Studiousness. I want to see if I can possibly finish my degree a semester early and, if I'm going to make that happen, I need to buckle down yet again. Even if I decide not to fast-track, I still want to be more focused on my classes -- not a grade-obsesso type, just more focused for the sake of enhanced learning.
(4) It's About Me. I generally don't think I'm a selfish person, per se, though I know I'm rather what many likely consider self-absorbed. I don't have a problem with that, as I think it's good to be aware of oneself and as conscious of your kickass attributes as your personal challenges, and I think it's a big part of what helps me do well with the things I'm good at. However, sometimes I worry that I'm taking it too far and I don't want to turn into something untrue to the kid that my parents raised. I really just need to get with Buddha and find the internal zen.
(5) Get into the Dirty 30s. Enter this new era of my life feeling satisfied that I've achieved the key goals my 19 year old self set out for me. Make another list of reasonable but challenging aspirations for my thirties so that I can come back at 40 feeling as great as I do now.
So we had a super fun Christmas season. A few key reasons:
(1) Enough work, already! The last day of work was hilarious. We had dips and cheese and crackers, drank some Veuve, and did a swap-style gift exchange that ended in total hilarity ("I pity the fool that takes Lee for a joke"). Jen and I were The Biggest Losers and were probably the only chumps in our office pointing out which gifts we bought, as they made their way 'round the room most of all. I was thrilled to finally end up stealing her Jen's gift, which will sit on my desk forever.
(2) Cottageness! We got out of town quickly on Friday and arrived at the cottage in time for more cheese, crackers, and kielbasa. Dave's mom and stepdad are awesome and we definitely set the tone for a super holiday. (PS: Finn Crisps are five for one point. Buy them. Eat them.)
(3) Working it. Patti (his mom) and I stuck with our commitment to get in the daily exercise, and I actually even ran most days. I did six kilometres without stopping! I had no idea that I would be able to do this. My legs and abs wanted me dead, but I felt incredibly excited with myself about the whole thing. I even started each morning with abs and either squats/lunges or pushups (girl style). This is a Christmas miracle if ever I experienced one.
(4) Baking! My baked goods were a show-stopping hit with all who ate them. People were indulging in them and raving. I got to give all the props to my mom for teaching me to bake when I was a wee one, and her pastries were a particularly grand success. This made me feel a bit like my family was around, which was sweet.
(5) Fondue and pomegranate martinis! Christmas Eve effing ruled. We started with a delectable cheese fondue with french bread. The main course was oil fondue with meats and veggies -- I'd never tried this before and was amazed by how fun and yummy it all was. Finally, we had a choco-grand-marnier fondue with pineapple, bananas, strawberries, and kiwi. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. (And, yes, they were the Oprah martinis.)
(6) Niece time! The sister-in-law family arrived on Christmas day, and the baby was hysterically fun. I don't think I can think of anything more awesome in the world than an almost two year old. We played "boo", "fly", "sleepies", songs on the flexible roll-up "panano", and she was ec-freakin'-static. THEN! While she's chattered endlessly for what seems like forever, my name has always eluded her. Until... she sat on the couch with us in the evening, and very clearly said: "Hi Dave! Hi Jacquelyn!" She kicks way more ass than anything else.
(8) The peeps. Dave's family and their friends are so crazy fun. We laughed for five days straight, I swear. Between trashy magazines, Balderdash, Greek mythology about winter, demented dream analyses, and discussions of what Britney is doing to the new generation of young women, the whole thing kicked ass.
(7) Home again, home again. We came back today and I still have days and days of lounging around the house ahead of me before I have to go back to work.
This has been my favourite holiday season of all time. Awesomeness, awesomeness, awesomeness.
Two things yesterday: I finished my fifth semester of the MBA (finals = done!) and we had our work Christmas party directly afterwards. We had casino games, yummy food (though I am very grumpy about having missed dessert), prizes (we won awesome steak knives which, believe it or not, we were stupidly giddy about -- sure it wasn't the 42" LCD TV, but it was good), a number of drinks, and all kinds of fun.
Naturally, you know what this means. Yes, the only time I update is when I have new pictures.
Ready to go:
Me and Jen:
Boss scandal!
Everyone loves a stole:
Boys being nice:
Cuties:
El presidente:
The big winners:
Cousin, husband, and coworker:
Directors unite:
Their eyes match:
Boys club:
I always hate when the night ends, then promptly fall asleep within five minutes:
So there you have it. Fun!
I think I've got everyone now. We had more people than ever to shop for this year: my parents, Dave's mom and stepdad, Dave's dad, my sister and her husband, Dave's sister and her husband, our much-adored niece, my grandparents, my cousin's kids, the partners at my company, my mom from my dad, Dave's mom and stepdad from my parents, and Dave's dad from my parents. Oh yeah, and Dave.
Yeesh!
Oh, well, except for my work gift exchange gift. I have no ideas here. I want something silly and fun, but have yet to find anything entertaining enough for the $20 limit. If all else fails, some poor sucker will be getting a Starbucks gift card.
In any case, the whole shebang is effectively donesville. I got a few ideas from the giftees, a few ideas from friends (mostly stealing Jen's ideas and using them as my own, hah), and a few of them came from my own frenzied little head. I am particularly pleased with myself on two counts:
(1) Dave's main gift is really fun and I thought of it all on my own. He hasn't asked for it, but did mention about six months ago that he'd like one. It'll be a fun surprise!
(2) I don't usually finish 'til Christmas Eve. I have wrapping paper and ribbon and even real Christmas cards for all recipients. Now that is organization.
(3) I'm putting everything under my own tree for the day. It looks bloody spectacular.
I generally have a distaste for shopping. I find it painfully time-consuming and hate it more than anything when the malls are busy. But at Christmas? I intentionally go when I know things will be bizarre and out of control with holiday madness. I giggle at those who are waiting in line with grumpy faces. I snicker at disgruntled drivers who just missed a key spot in the parking lot. I love the dads sitting on benches half-asleep while their wives spend half an hour deciding between two different shades of sweaters for their in-laws. I find the exhausted, terrified, sobbing children waiting in the Santa line-up endlessly hysterical. I am amused by the couples who do the 007 mall split to shop for each other and are peeking around every corner to make sure their other half won't see the bags. There is major entertainment at every step.
Yep, the holidays truly are the most wonderful time of the year -- at least for those of us who love gift shopping.
Client party. More dress-up than our company party, so I have pictures. I had an exam Saturday morning so there are only a few (we left a little after 10PM).
There's my tree in the background. I love getting my hair and stuff all done:
Me in my dress. I love my shoes more than anything:
I look weird here but the boy is cute:
Jen and her boytoy. Her hair and makeup looked flippin' awesome:
Our sweetest coworker and her husband:
That's it for today. I have an exam at 10AM tomorrow and have to get up early to study. Saturday afternoon will be in-law holiday get-together fun and Sunday will be endless Christmas shopping, as I have nearly nothing done.
For the first time since the year before we got hitched, we have our own tree!
I know, I know, the quality of the picture is crap. I'm too lazy to do more than a camera phone shot. And, yes, we still have to get a topper. And, yes again, we need to hunt through the storage locker for the skirt. And -- enough already! -- we still have to put the presents at the bottom.
In any case, here's the deal: he's a faker. In all my life, I've only ever had real trees. I grew up in the country, where nobody had fake trees except on TV. We cut our tree out of our massive forest of a backyard. It was endless fun, traipsing through the snowy woods, hats and mitts and snowsuits and bright eyes. As we got older, we stopped the woodland hunt and started buying them from the grocery store. There is nothing better than the smell of a freshly cut tree in your house.
So why the fakey? Well, I was dead set on the real deal 'til I started to think about cleaning up after him in my little condo. This guy is every bit as pretty as his less artifical brethren, and saves me from buying a vacuum for just a little longer.