Happiness smells like…. bacon

My picture at the Poe Museum

Being a massage therapist will put you in some weird and awkwardly strange situations. How so? Well, you might be asked about your past, or if you are dealing with an aroma class, you may just be asked what happiness smells like to you… no lie. Other people in the class may have gawked, and played with their pens, and stared off into the deep looking for some meaningful scent connection but I knew it. And, I will probably always use this as my answer even though the teacher either thinks I’m really funny or a total jackass.

Teacher: “Yes, you raised your hand. What does happiness smell like?”

Me: “Bacon, happiness totally smells like bacon.”

And there’s a few snickers, and a few people laugh, even I crack up a little trying to keep a totally straight face so the teacher doesn’t think I am one of those trouble makers. Immediately they are compelled to ask, “But… why bacon?” And, in the teacher’s head she is probably thinking ohmygod this girl is totally screwing with me and now I just opened the floor up to her. And the real reason is actually kind of personal so I do screw around with her and say that bacon is one of those smells like coffee that just smells amazing.

The truth is, the reason why bacon smells like happiness is because my mother, who never cooks, would make bacon for us. It was when we had her father in the house and a pretty dark time in our family, so the smell of bacon and it cooking brought us together and was one of those happy moments. My brother hadn’t moved out yet, and I felt closer with my brother than I had ever felt in my life. We stopped bickering so much as brother and sister and were comrades.

When I think of bacon I think of her cooking, me and my brother running into the kitchen and trying to steal all of it for ourselves. I think of laughter and goofing around, my mom at the pan expertly not burning them to crisps and making grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches with soup… tomato soup, of course. It was one of those things you could smile on, which was hard to find in two years of darkness we were in as a family, and that I was in as an individual too. It reminded me of simpler times and when things were so much easier.

It’s a conspiracy against me

So, my husband got me an iphone and I know what you’re thinking if you are an apple person, “Noooo!! You should have waited, the newest iPhone is coming out any time and they didn’t tell us when but it is sooo coming and it will be the awesomest!” My brother mentioned this several times when I first told him I had an iPhone that I needed to wait and my current phone situation was that I wasn’t going to have one so yeah… I couldn’t wait.

I don’t know anything about smart phones, I’ve had a basic phone all my life, a flip phone, and those seemed rather simple and easy. I got the smart phone because I was allowed to and it sounded like it might be cool.

Plus, the phone has Siri. I already formulated ridiculous questions to ask her, like the of course famous one of: “Siri, where would you bury a dead body?” She, to my surprise, answered it quite efficiently by mentioning funeral, crematorium, and a dump/ditch. I chose the dump/ditch, and she more than readily told me the closest one to me. I also asked her what is the meaning of life? Which she readily gave me this lengthy answer of being nice to people, living well, and a whole paragraph of what it meant. I talked to Siri so much the first few days that my phone battery was completely drained pretty quickly.

But, I tried something different last night after I watched my husband play with her. He kept on saying stuff in French, Japanese and German and she kept responding back to him in that language. He knows basically three words of each of those three languages and she understood him and carried on a conversation which probably translated went, “No way, you just asked the great Siri if I speak French? Why, I’ve been programmed with so much French I could make your head spin!” I was a little bummed when my husband told me she was programmed for those three languages, but not Spanish.

I know a lot more Spanish than I do all three of those languages, I kind of wanted to practice my Spanish with her and get a little more fine tuned at it. But, that’s not going to be happening because she’d just tell me I don’t know what you’re talking about if I asked her how she was in Spanish.

Then, I’m on this blog and she says that her husband just tells her to say Sumimasen while she is in Japan because she’s planning on getting in a lot of trouble and he says that is equivalent to saying your sorry. In the blog post he even pronounces it for her with the syllables so I’m feeling pretty good at getting this right. I activate Siri and speak into it: “Sue-me ma-sen.” It sounds great to me, Siri takes a few seconds to think about it and in the Australian accent I chose for her she says: “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying. Would you like me to do a web search for Siril Malsen/Sulen Maltide/Silly Masen?”

I try over and over again to say this phrase, I accentuate so she gets I’m trying to speak another language, but she keeps on coming up with these ridiculous web searches for what I’m saying. Finally, I try again with another phrase: “Domo Arigato.” Again, she comes up with these weird searches while my husband just said it once, each time, and she totally understood him.

I think it’s a conspiracy against me, maybe my husband is the true master of the Siri. Or, with her Australian accent programmed in she has a harder time understanding me… maybe.

Look for me in your spam box

There is something weird that WordPress does to me and my comments, and I don’t quite get it. Maybe it’s because I try to be anonymous, maybe it’s because WordPress can’t trust me because I’m wearing a mask. Or, quite possibly, it thinks I am a blogger robot with a schnazy mask on and trying to cause havoc to people’s blogs by leaving comments.

I’m not quite sure, I love you WordPress, but we have a problem. I am totally not spam. I’ve never even eaten spam!

I’m not doing the spamming, I do not say visit my sex website here, even though I get those all the time. I tend to be quite wordy so the likelihood of me leaving a two-word comment is like 0%. But, again and again, the bloggers I comment on tell me they found my comments in their spam box and they aren’t sure how I got there. I even tried to remedy this by adding a little bio to my profile page but this doesn’t seem to work either. So. if I keep on getting put in spam I will keep on commenting and hoping I get found by my fellow bloggers.

It’s like a dating website for your job

I am in tune with the jobs being listed for massage therapists and I have my eyes open and on the look out. Besides this I have joined some job websites and put down what I’m looking for, where, so I can keep updated on what’s being posted. But, as I’ve scoured emails and cyber stalked many job listing sites I’m noticing a strange trend with the sites that I signed up to get job listings emailed to me. The emails reminded me a heck of a lot like a dating website. And I have been on three dating websites, match.com, Eharmony.com, and Chemistry.com so I have a bit of experience with what they do.

Emails to me read “This job is interested in YOU” and I open it, every time, because I fall for them saying that the job might like me. Really, they checked out my information, and liked me? They are interested in maybe meeting me? And then I check it out and it’s a job for a dental hygienist.

Or, it is a listing for a physical therapist, and I’ve had one for even a nurse.

Hmmm, I’m thinking you thought I put down different traits then what I said. What gets even more strange is when they get my career right but it is nowhere near where I live… you know, like thousands of miles away. And I’m reminded of the dating websites, sending me potential mates in my email and me looking them up because they said we would totally be compatible. They say you should check them out, look at how many traits lined up! There was the personality quiz and you got a couple of questions answered the same and that is like love at first sight, right?

Well, for me a job is my second passion, so I want to be just as in love with it as I know I can be. I won’t settle and will keep on cyber stalking job listings to find a place where I can really shine, be myself, and push my boundaries to become even better at what I do.

Want a snuggle time movie? You chose wrong!

Me and the man tonight went out for a little date night action and this involved going to a new Italian place that I swear was maybe a Mexican place when I stepped in. The outside screamed super fancy, but the inside was kind of cozy and casual. And I say it hinted at Mexican because of the colors for some reason were just so bright, and vibrant, that I was a little thrown off when I opened up the menu. I was of course happy though because I am insanely addicted to pasta and absolutely love it.

I haven’t had pasta in so long it seems that I think I went into overdose once I started eating it and those first few bites were like heaven to start off. Then I kept on stealing my husband’s food (I do this… he’s used to this… no one stops me) and he had some amazing potato bites that I stole more because he wasn’t paying attention to his food and guarding it enough.

We then went to see Bourne Legacy and slipped into the theater a couple of minutes after the previews had started. You could see the couple behind us were snuggling, lovey dovey style behind us in their seats. Obviously this was movie date night, which looking at the lady behind me I was wondering if she was ready for this Bourne movie. I know I was, but this certainly wasn’t a romantic comedy and you of course have punching, hitting, killing, and all of that stuff.

Well, I will try not to give things away but it got to maybe part way through it and the movie got pretty violent(er). You could hear them talking in the back, “Oh, what does that mean? Ah! Awww! No! Oh no! AH!”  and all that and clearly were not happy with what was going on. The guy was consoling his girlfriend and they were not happy campers. A few minutes later, they clearly walk out of the movie not to return again, she had her purse on her shoulder and he was exiting with her. Me and the husband just looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. The man loves his action flicks and I’ve seen Bourne before so I knew there would be chasing, running, and killing.

I don’t think this guy briefed his date on what was going to be happening. He certainly did not get brownie points for that movie selection for sure, and it was quieter in the movie theater after they left so that was bonus for us.

Fishing for Turtles

Why it’s called fishing… you catch fish, not turtles! A picture I took in the ocean.

I must admit that I am quite the avid fisher woman and I’ve been doing it since I was five years old. Me and my dad would take out our fishing poles, go up to the lake three hours away from our home, and spend hours and hours fishing. We rarely caught anything up at that lake, but it was the only place we could fish at and we kept trying. It turned out to be some pretty happy memories of me and my dad and groomed me into the severe tomboy I am today.

I didn’t mind worms, or worm guts, or slimy fish, and any of that stuff. I liked getting dirty from when I first could crawl some place and would keep bugs in my little caterpillar purse I carried around. I was unusual for a girl and rough housed with my brother constantly.

So, I tend to surprise guys when I fish, bowl, golf, or do anything that normally a girl would shy away from. I can bait my own hook, replace my hook after the line has broken, take a fish off the hook, but I came across something I wasn’t prepared for the day before. I was fishing and enjoying it when I seemed to have caught my first fish of the day. I reeled it in and it came up to the surface and I kind of stared at it like it was the lochness monster I was bringing in to shore.

Instead of it being like that creature I had an unexpected surprise… there was a turtle on my hook. 

The thing stretched it’s neck out as I brought it in and fought me every bit of the way, and also he was super heavy. Luckily, I had a guy with me who was the husband of the horse lady I’ve come across and he dragged the turtle up onto the pier.

I guess unhooking a turtle is like a fish but a turtle will snap at you, and has little claws he tries to scratch you up with while you try to set him free. I watched the whole scenario feeling quite surreal and thinking that they gotta get rid of all those turtles. There are more turtles in the water at this pond than fish and whenever you cast out your line the turtles paddle over to the bobber, bite it, and then dive down to try to see what’s attached to it. I’ve caught all sorts of fish but turtles are certainly not on my menu for fishing and I hope that big fat turtle learned his lesson not to eat little fish with hooks attached to them.

Queen of Interviewing BS

I’m guessing I inherited the BS interview trait from my brother, though I had to learn from my first few interviews that being absolutely honest is not the best idea. And, I’m thinking he tends to be a bit more cocky than me. I am not cocky, though with more years under my belt and being proclaimed by many clients as, magic hands” certainly doesn’t hurt my ego one bit. I have been job hunting and searching through the internet and haven’t found anything close to me so I will probably be rusty with interviewing whenever I find something.

There was this one interview with a chiropractor for a massage job where I was given two pens taped together. The chiropractor then told me to sell him the two pens that were taped together. What I would say to someone to sell the pen, no, I am not making this up.

I also went to a chiropractor for a massage job and he said I reeked of cigarette smoke and that their clients are trying to live very healthy lives so he I was not to be smoking and I was unhealthy for that. Unbeknownst to him I am not a smoker, both my mother and father are, and my mother smoked inside of the laundry room so even when I washed my clothes I still couldn’t get the smell off.  I even told her after the interview to maybe smoke some place else so I could try to keep my clothes ‘clean’ smelling and she said no. When I got hired by my work sometimes I would come in and the manager would look at me funny and asked if I smoked. It was so annoying trying to defend myself when I got those looks of, “Oh, yeah, sure your parents smoke and that is their cigarette smoke, not yours. Ha ha, not falling for that.”

I also went to a chiropractor for an interview and he asked me if I was dating anyone, married, and if I lived at home. I felt so dirty after that interview that I wanted to wash my clothes and hop in the shower too for double duty. I didn’t even know how to react and it hit me afterwards how messed up it was, in the moment I was so shocked I didn’t even know what to say.

I can BS my way through interviews all I like and I do tell them what they want to hear. I try to sell myself but I have had such a messed up history with interviews for a massage position that I’m so scared to get back in it. It’s not normal, the way of interviewing isn’t just face-to-face BSing but we end up having to give a ‘technical’ massage to the person in the interview and that can be super weird. It’s intimidating and uncomfortable, and when they tell you you were nervous you just gotta bite your tongue not to say,

Ummm… yeah, I was nervous, I need a job and you couldn’t relax and I couldn’t relax and you were picking at everything I was doing when I was massaging and I could feel it even if you didn’t say a word!” 

You can feel when someone is thinking, you can feel when they are preoccupied when you massage. Clients I ended up knowing really well and regulars of mine I could tell within the first 5 seconds of seeing them, without saying a word, if they were having a tough day or if something was bothering them. I am too in tune to how people feel sometimes, and that’s why some of my best massages are when my clients let go and relax, I tend to know when they take that deep breath they are finally present and aren’t thinking about everything at once.

I know there are certain things you say, and don’t say, in an interview and you try to listen to what they want to hear from you. They are trying to see if they want you, and you are trying to see if you can make the interviewer want to hire you.

It’s like a first date with interviewing. All of the baggage is hidden in the closet, your best face is put on, you may hold back what you really want to say because you are trying to impress the person you’re with. You don’t know if they will accept you for you, so what you end up doing is trying to figure out what they want and you try to give it to them. I tend to be a blunt, painfully honest person who has a crazy personality and keeping that hidden is not exactly easy. I can be a good at the interview game but that can you only take you so far. And bad interviews really is a confidence killer for me and makes me doubt my abilities.

Playing the in-touch game

I am not someone to keep in touch with people, and I have let tons of people fall through life’s cracks like sand through opened hands. My thing since I can remember, since I was the littlest of girls, was that I was a loner. This followed me through grade school, high school, college, and to life now. I’ve always been a crazy, out-going person who is not afraid of being labeled weird and I’m rather proud of being called that too. I’m an unusual little bird, and people don’t quite get to see past what I let them see.

So, lo and behold, I am doing the anti-Sarah thing of trying to keep in touch with my co-workers who became my friends over 4 years of working. I even just recently sent a card to one of my friends for her birthday, another friend I got a “Congratulations on your new baby!” card. And I must admit, I am not a baby person… I’m allergic to them.

Seriously, I’ve never even held a baby in my life. Please, don’t judge, I’ve always been the baby of the family and while people tell me babies aren’t fragile I don’t do well with tiny things. I don’t even feel comfortable touching my friend’s bellies if they are pregnant… yet, one of my favorite things to do with massage came to be pregnancy massages.

It wasn’t the most comfortable massage for me, but it was less pressure and I loved helping the soon-to-be mothers manage pain throughout their pregnancy. It became that really wonderful thing I got to do for mommas-to-be and as a student I was terrified, but as I grew more confident I really did love that connection with my clients. And, pregnant women tend to be the most appreciative clients you will get too, which always put a huge smile on my face.

My friend’s baby is cute, super tiny, and you know for me to say it’s cute it’s gotta be one damn cute baby! This is my friend I got all of her baby clothes and baby things before I left and moved. She’s a good friend of mine, and did a lot for me too like holding my bachelorette party which goes down in my book as one of my happiest memories I’ve had. I’m trying to keep in touch but it’s like near impossible without having Facebook because texting is more tedious than Facebook it seems. To me, it seems like people are getting used to communicating that they are ‘in touch’ with them by ‘liking’ posts and statuses and all that stuff. While me, I am super traditional, I will send you a birthday card and even a cute little package to say I miss you.

I don’t know how to keep in touch with family, my brother hates talking on the phone and my mother drives me batty. I love her, but she constantly asks me, “What are you doing today? Ha, why am I asking you that? I know the answer, nothing!” Seriously, that is our day-to-day conversation right after I say hello to her. Because I still don’t have a job, and me and the hubby don’t eat out every day, she has dubbed me as boring. She always asks me all the time if I’m doing anything exciting and I have been eating in to help with my fitness kick and I’ve been exercising about 2 hours every day of the week. I ponder not talking to her for a few days because she is making me feel like I am really boring, and quite useless without a job, but I still end up talking to her.

So, I’m stuck in limbo texting my friends and my mom makes it her mission every day to tell me I’m doing nothing but to ask me every day what I’m doing. I exercise like a fiend because basically it helps me to clear my head and to give me some focus. I want to have as much, if not more, strength and endurance for massaging whenever I do get a job and I’m trying to tone my body to get to its ultimate shape. I’m watching what I eat and even logging my calories to see what I’m eating and how I can lose some weight in the process. It gives me a goal to shoot for while I play the waiting game with a job.

Let’s get physical, Physical…

hat I feel like going to the Doctor...

So, you’d think I’d have something sexy to write about with the title but I fooled you. It’s time for my yearly exam and I am all psyched out and have been starving myself watching what I eat the past few days so when I step on that scale it doesn’t sound a horn and tell me I’m fat. I have the Wii fit to do that and which is why I don’t exercise on or step foot on the little white stand anymore. It would blow up my skinny Mii into an overweight Mii with my shirt barely fitting and no breasts. This happened every time I weighed myself and I’d always want to throw that damn thing out the window with a wild scream.

But, I held back from this and eventually stopped stepping on the Wii fit stand because it was giving me a huge complex. I’d be .01 pounds heavier, not even an actual pound, and it’d yell at me for gaining .01 pounds and how I failed my goal.

I’d get so depressed about failing my goal, having horns and whistles go off like, “Here piggy, piggy, piggy!” that I haven’t stepped on a scale for a while. It doesn’t help that our normal scale is broken and the Wii fit one is the only one working.

It also doesn’t help when you go to your Doctor’s exam, and you have to be weighed, that you can’t strip down to just your undies for being weighed and it’s winter time so you have more layers on. I make sure to take off my shoes though and every other piece of clothing I can without being called indecent for doing it.

I’ve also stupidly decided I don’t work enough as it is and I’ve picked up every single day this week because I have training on top of my normal work schedule. Surprisingly, I actually do love training and have already sent my outline for training our new therapist to one of our managers because I’m a geek, OCD, and also think very analytically. I’m modifying my training schedule from the first one they gave me to do officially plus I have two more days of training so I’m taking this into account with the teaching outline. It’s one of the things I’m so happy about having an opportunity to do at my job and they’ve finally given me responsibility for all of the training.

Of course, I’ll only be able to do this for as long as I keep my job, which will be until late April hopefully, and I’m definitely going all gung ho into training. This week is just so busy that I can’t even plan or get my things together for the move I’m going to have to make at the end of February. I just want to be done with the Doctor’s visit, know my weight and prepare myself not to freak out.

She was all up in my nutsack

Mom: “I’m dying of thirst.”

Me: “I’m trying to get his attention.”

Mom: “Just show him your boobs and we’ll get some water.”

Unfortunately, no one was interested in my magnificent chest enough to stop by long enough for me to ask for water… until the end of our meal and I was literally waving my hand in the air and uttering, “excuse me” under my breath. Good news was the food was good, bad news the service of this place always sucks and not even cleavage could get them to come over to check on us.

Oh, and another recent hilarious thing my brother told me just recently, randomly, without warning:

Brother: “She was all up in my nutsack.”

It’s hard to leave me speechless, but that pretty much did it right there.