FYI

Prescription drugs have been found in drinking water:

Story Highlights
- Investigation finds pharmaceuticals in drinking water of 41 million Americans
- Concentrations are minute; utilities say water is safe
- Low-level drug combinations found to impact human cells, wildlife
- Bottlers, some of who repackage tap water, do not typically treat, test for drugs


Interesting!

FYI

Updates on my life . . .

1.) I no longer work at the gym. It just wasn't working out and I could never commit to it for one year. Technically I was "let go," but it was because I told her I couldn't do full-time anymore and then she said part-time wouldn't work AND I wasn't excelling at the job. Ouch, way to put that excelling part in there. It kind of stings, but I know it's true. And the sad part is, I didn't even really try.

2.) I am sick with the flu. No fun, but I'm enjoying this time of rest in bed. It's maddening to not be able to even sit up for more than 15 minutes, but this affords me to sleep and think about my next move in life.

3.) NYC is heavy on my mind again. I need to save more money before I can make the move, but I am thinking I need to just do it. I need to get my shit together.

4.) I am focusing on writing because it makes me happy and I'm realizing I can't really do anything else. I've tried everything, but I do not think I will find happiness working for anyone but myself and doing what I love and enjoy. It just isn't working out any other way.

That's all for now. I'm trying to get better so that I can go to work at 930 tonight. I am so sick of the drive. I'm also sick of some of the people, too. BLEH!

FYI

I have a new item on my wish list! I want to get Invisalign to close my open bite and push back from front teeth. I am a tongue thruster (not in a good way) and I'm working on that habit, but now I need to fix the damage that has already been done.

I was told I needed braces when I was 22. Up until then no dentist ever referred me to an orthodontist. In fact, when I was a pre-teen I wanted braces and constantly asked my dentist if I needed them. It was mostly because all of my friends had braces and I had to be like everyone else so I thought, "Pleasepleaseplease tell me I need braces!" I was reassured by my dentist each time that no, I did not need them. My teeth were beautiful. UGH!

People have noticed my slightly bucked teeth as I got older. Enough comments have been made that it makes me self-conscious now.

Last year, I finally went to an orthadontist for a consultation after a new dentist finally(!) recommended me. I was broke, so there was no way I could even AFFORD braces, but I went anyway. The orthadonist was angry that I had never been referred to an ortho before and then he suggested braces, to which I said: "No." He got really pissed with me, but I just couldn't see myself with braces at 22. Hello, I have enough strikes against me physically, how in the hell am I supposed to add another one with braces? No thanks.

Now, I am sure that when I get enough money, I'm getting Invisalign. It's invisible for the most part and aside from the annoyance of taking them out and brushing my teeth each time I eat, it seems perfect for me. I am thinking about Invisalign all the time. I research it all the time. It's my new wish. I have to have it.

FYI: On Positivity

I deleted my entry from yesterday morning. I guess I was just freaking out initially about the one year thing because I wasn't expecting it. It goes against all of my plans, but I know if I turn down this opportunity I will regret it. The stability and responsibility I was yearning for may come from this experience. There's nothing bad in that.

This job is kind of answering my prayers. I said I didn't want another office job and I'm sticking to it. I just can't do it. It's not for me. I said I wanted to work with kids somehow. I like working out. I like being silly. This job is all of that.

I'm making money doing things I love and I don't think it gets much better than that when choosing a career path.

Over coffee with a friend yesterday, I realized that I may not be in NYC, but I sure like where I am right now. I think I'm doing the right thing. I'm happy with my decisions. I'm headed in the right direction.

I like Oprah. I don't think she's nearly as evil as everyone makes her out to be and I think I'll do a post about that sometime. On her show yesterday, some life coach said the following and it really resonated with me:

"Love life because life loves you back."

I agree. And those who get annoyed with my positivity and don't understand my decisions, that's fine. Take your negativity and doubt somewhere else.

FYI and WTF All in One: My Personality Disorder Test

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Disorder:	Moderate
Schizoid Disorder:	Moderate
Schizotypal Disorder:	Very High
Antisocial Disorder:	Low
Borderline Disorder:	Moderate
Histrionic Disorder:	Moderate
Narcissistic Disorder:	Moderate
Avoidant Disorder:	High
Dependent Disorder:	High
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	Moderate
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! -- -- Personality Disorders --

all i can do is lol at this. i have a schizotypal disorder. lovely. lol!

edit: so i did a little research on schizotypal personalities and i meet the qualification of having been teased relentlessly as a child. it taught me to not entirely truth others and i learned to rely on myself a lot. interesting . . .

Annabelle Blue's FYI

Metaphysics. What does that word arouse in you? Confusion? Annoyance? Fear? Ambivalence? Loneliness?

I realized that I am a devout contemplator of the metaphysical a few months ago while I was on a date. We wandered into the bookstore, as is customary on dates with myself, and in one particular section I rattled off a bunch of books I either owned, read or wanted to read. I glanced at the title of the section we were in and discovered it was the "Metaphysics" section. This is when I realized I was more than a casual peruser of metaphysics.

I've been going through a very troubling phase where I obsess and over analyze the meaning of life, my reality, death, dreams, and time until I give myself a panic attack. It's frightening and it keeps me up at night. This all started right when I came home from NYC last December around Christmastime. NYC has always been my "after" and "eventually," so when it wasn't working out, much to my dismay and reluctance, and I moved back home, I thought- "now what?" In a way, my coming back home broken, beaten and out of ideas was like a death. And ever since then I've been in a certain kind of purgatory.

To be fair, perhaps my purgatory began before NYC. Perhaps my parlay into NYC was a kind of purgatory in it's own right. It was post-college, post-losing close friends, and post-heartbreak. Like any good life that has been lived, love is at the core of my pre-NYC death . . .or perhaps more accurately, a lack thereof.

God(expression, not noun), what is life without love? There's a lyric to a song I know that goes:

"the world is a joke when out of love"

Before, I'd kind of snicker at that lyric because it seemed so ridiculous and amateurish. I thought it was utterly pathetic- there's so much more to life than having a boyfriend. I'd think this to myself while driving my car or sitting in my room listening to said song, trying to fool myself with my cute little feminist naiveté that I affect sometimes amongst friends. Lately, though, I've been coming to understand what the world being a joke when out of love really means. For me personally, it's without the promise of love that I think the world is a joke, not entirely that if you're not in love the world is a joke. Not all that profound, but for me it's a big deal. This isn't about me being in love or having been in love . . . I'm not in love right now. The point is, if it isn't going to happen, then there's no point to my life and I mean that with all my heart. Life would seem to be lonely, cruel . . .and pointless.

I love my family, I love my friends, I love the color blue, I love kids, I love beauty, I love chocolate, I love laying in bed, I love cuddling, I love reading, I love music . . .I love a lot of things, but without that ONE love, I don't know if this (life) makes any sense. I'd hate for my life to be some big lesson of loneliness. It seems unfair and cruel. What happened in my last life to warrant such a thing?

So in thinking about death, God and the meaning of life, the only consoling thought in my head is that I must find the meaning in MY life. I am trying to figure out my next step and where I'm going. I stress myself out over it. I've quit my job. This "quarter-life crisis" that John Mayer warned me about is 8439898498 times worse than I'd ever imagine it could be. I'm kind of embarrassed to really explain it to people because I don't think they'd really understand. It's way too deep to even try to articulate at all.

I still believe NYC is in my future. I don't think I will be content on my deathbed without having lived there while I was young. I also want to be in love, but interestingly, if there is no promise of love in NYC, I don't know if I wanna be there. It is a big, lonely, beautiful city and if I never find a love there, what's the point? It would be far more romantic and safe if I moved there with a love.

Maybe now I get why he wanted to move there with me so badly. With all my heart, no matter what problems or issues he might have had, I just think to myself that I'm the one who fucked it all up. It was bad timing. I wasn't prepared. I wasn't myself. To be honest, I kind of lost it on him one night due to my insane hormonal imbalances (PMDD FOR THE WIN!), which I'm kind of reluctant to admit to myself or anyone else. Nobody likes excuses.

Now I have the feeling that he has moved there with her. So yeah, I'd say I can't blame him, although it hurts terribly. It's not even HIM that makes it hurt. It's what it all symbolizes for me.

So now I find myself lonely and remorseful. What would have happened if we'd have just done it? If I'd have not freaked out or demanded my demands. Compassion is something I pride myself in, but it wears thin after a while. I have doubts about whether it would have worked out in the first place, but I'd probably be happier if we'd have tried. Or maybe I'd be worse off. Who knows. It's all a gamble.

I was so sure and it seems it was all a farce. Life is cruel sometimes, so naturally I find myself wondering about the point of it all. That's when I venture out into the bigger picture and the bigger idea. And that's when I lose myself.

But that night, I found myself in a bookstore. On a date. But we don't talk about metaphysics on our date. We do other things and I distract myself. Because metaphysics isn't the point of a date. Duh, the point of dating, essentially, is to find love. But, in my experience, you don't find love. Love finds you.

But in true Adrienne form, I found metaphysics on a date.

Annabelle Blue's FYI

Passive, Aggressive, and/or Passive-Aggressive?

I’ve been accused of being all three. I have a hard time figuring out which one fits better for me. I think everyone plays a little bit of all three for the sake of sanity, but if one of the above becomes “too” prevalent, that’s when the accusations fly and people feel the need to call you out and make you feel shitty.

I feel as though people throw out these terms very liberally. I’ve taken it upon myself to research the exact definition and provide examples of each.

Passive

Definition: 1.) Accepting or submitting without objection or resistance; submissive. 2.) Relating to or characteristic of an inactive or submissive role in a relationship, especially a sexual relationship.

Example: Your friends really hate someone you actually kind of like for no reason other than it's fun. Instead of saying stuff like "I don't think she's so bad!" or "I kind of like her . . .", you say nothing and kind of go along with everyone else because you don't know want the drama and who really cares anyway? You'd rather just go along with the ride.

Reality: Maybe you really JUST DON'T WANT THE DRAMA. Why is it worth it?


Aggressive

Definition: 1.) Inclined to behave in an actively hostile fashion. 2.) Marked by boldness and assertiveness. (I like this definition MUCH better.)

Example: A friend says something that really offends you and you speak up and say so. Her reaction: "I'm afraid to tell you things because you're too aggressive!"

Reality: This happened to me recently. After much thought, I've come upon the conclusion that maybe it's okay for everyone else to be aggressive in telling you you're being aggressive, but to actually BE aggressive? That's not right.

Passive-Aggressive

Definition: This one was harder to define. Basically, it seems as though I’m the storybook case of passive-aggressiveness, but so are most people that I know. Here are some typical traits:

• Ambiguity
• Avoiding responsibility by claiming forgetfulness
• Blaming others
• Chronic lateness and forgetfulness
• Complaining
• Does not express hostility or anger openly
• Fear of authority
• Fear of competition
• Fear of dependency
• Fear of intimacy
• Fosters chaos
• Intentional inefficiency
• Making Excuses
• Lying
• Obstructionism
• Procrastination
• Resentment
• Resists suggestions from others
• Sarcasm
• Stubbornness
• Sullenness

Example: Well, HELLO! Obviously we're ALL passive-aggressive. Just look at yourself. You're passive-aggressive.

Verdict: This is all BS. I think it takes work to be assertive without being aggressive, passive without being submissive, and passive-aggressive without being underhanded. We're all in the same boat and it's hard as hell, but I feel like labeling other people all the time is a little much. I just don't understand how us girls are supposed to "be" in this world. Why in the hell can't we just say and do what we feel without being judged by everyone - mainly each other?

Why do we call each other a bitch for speaking our minds? Why are we so afraid of the truth? Why are we so afraid of not being "PC"? What is the big deal? What is the point?

I often wonder if people are intimidated or "afraid" of me because I'm too black, too tall, too loud, too honest, too assertive, too confident, etc?

I don't know what the point of this post is except that I find it incredibly hypocritical and ignorant when people throw around these terms. It's like, maybe these are coping mechanisms to deal with how messed up you can be. I'm done with judgmental and aggressive "friends" accusing me of being the same things that they are. Deal with it or don't.

My rant's done. I'm a little bit of an angry chick sometimes. My Mars is in Scorpio. If you don't know what that means, look it up. :)

Annabelle Blue's FYI

FYI: Apparently a side effect from mixing Vicodin with alcohol is death. Last week I wrote about my favorite prescription painkiller being Vicodin and how I took it with margaritas, wine and Yager bombs last month. I don't recommend doing this AT ALL. Just thought I'd pass along this info. I almost DID die, so just know that it's VERY dangerous and you should NEVER do this. Okay, now my heart can rest because I know most of you are psychotic druggies and would totally think mixing alcohol with Vicodin was okay if I didn't say otherwise.

On a much lighter note, my friend and officemate Katie sent me the cutest article about orphaned hedgehogs who are using a cleaning brush as their mother. Aw, I'd be their mother!!!

That's it for now, y'all. Enjoy your Friday! :)

Annabelle Blue's FYI

Dude, premenstrual dysphoric disorder, otherwise known as PMDD, is real. Most women experience a little PMS before they start their period, but few experience dehabilitating pain and severe mood changes. I am one of those people. I have had this “issue” for a while, but when I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism a few years back, my intense PMS was thought to have been a side effect of that. However now, over two years later, I’m much healthier as far as my thyroid is concerned, but I still experience the PMDD. In fact, I believe it has gotten worse. I gain up to 2-3lbs before my period. I usually feel depressed. I have mood swings. My breasts become sore. I have cramping. I could go on and on. It seems unfair, but at the same time, it seems like it’s a part of my life. I just kind of . . . deal with it.

I am the type of girl who (generally) hates even taking Advil. Yeah, I admitted to a mild and short-lived Vicodin addiction, but in all seriousness, I’m pretty much an au-naturale gal. So, for that reason, I will not take antidepressants (which can even make it worse!), nor will I take birth control. I don’t like to eff with my body too much. Now that I’m older, my periods come regularly (like clockwork), so I believe my periods aren’t the problem, per se. I believe what I’m putting in my body and how I’m treating it is a whole is where the problem lies.

When I’m very active and have a good work out regime going on, eat lots of complex carbs and load up on calcium, I am usually okay. It’s harder said than done, of course, but it works. I believe that yes, my hormones are out of whack, but it’s from all the synthetic hormones, pesticides and unknown chemicals that are in the food I eat, the drinks I guzzle down, the air I breathe, etc. It makes me crazy that I can’t control everything that goes into my body, but I do the best I can . . . and is that not all we human beings can do in life?

Last week when I wrote my rant about the woman at work who said I “don’t act black” or whatever, I was experiencing PMDD. I realize now that her words and feelings towards me have NOTHING to do with me. It more has to do with the way she was raised and her own personal feelings about herself. In all honesty, I don’t care what she thinks. Go ahead, think I act white. Just don’t say anything about my character or how I treat people, because that’s when it hurts. That’s when I take it seriously. I can say this now with less estrogen running through my body and with a week’s time to realize it doesn’t matter.

PMDD is REAL, folks. I do believe it’s treatable, but don’t think it’s some lame excuse for women (or something we make up in our heads) because it isn’t. You’ll know it’s true if you hang out with me around the 13th-22nd of next month.

If you’d like to learn more about PMDD, please visit the following website: http://www.pmdd.factsforhealth.org/.

Annabelle Blue's FYI

NOTE: So, I had a health article almost finished for today about thyroid problems, but I felt compelled to share something that happened to me today at work. This is a race issue so be forewarned that this might offend.

Not Black Enough

Sooooooooo, I've graduated college. I'm 23. I'm in the "real world." I used to be teased for not being "black" enough in elementary, middle and early high school, but I thought I was over that accusation. In college I managed to avoid it. But does it ever go away?

One of my white co-workers told me another black co-worker said, in my office once I left the room, that (in reference to me) "She don't act black." Mind you, this black co-worker rubbed me the wrong way from day one because she was always gossiping, so I've purposely distanced myself away from her. She was also the same woman who kept asking me what else was I besides black. I have learned over the years not to trust people who are overly concerned with my race or ethnic background, particularly if they're black themselves.

My dislike for her has nothing to do with her being black. One of my first friends at my job was black, but she left the company. I would never distance myself from fellow black officemates simply because of the color of their skin . . .but I also won't just be someone's friend because of the color of their skin either.

This is making me angry, even though I thought I was over people trying to tell me who I am and who I'm not bullshit. It's bringing up old emotions that I forgot I could feel. I am black. Maybe I don't talk like you. Maybe I don't act like you. Maybe I don't look like you, but I am black, too. And if I claim to not care about race or admit my non-black heritage, then it further proves their point that I'm "not black enough." What gives.

Why do black girls do this to each other?

Perhaps it's because of their own insecurities. It's not my ultimate goal, not would it serve any personal purpose for me at this point in my life, to figure out WHY they say such things without reverence to someone of their OWN color or regard as to WHAT they're insinuating. HOW DOES A BLACK PERSON HAVE TO TALK? HOW DO THEY HAVE TO ACT? WHAT MUSIC ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO? Sorry, but I must have missed that day of school where we were taught all of these essential guidelines for being born with brown skin. Please enlighten me.

And FYI- black does not equal ghetto/ebonics/the 'hood. Seriously. That is so disrespectful. Way to perpetuate stereotypes.