Surprised by surprise

Here comes some of that cynicism I was talking about...

I've been married to a really great guy for the last 9 1/2 years.  We've been together a bit more than 10 years.  Two, or so years ago, he lost his wedding ring.  He lost it somewhere in the house, but we've still not come across it, in all this time -- although he lot his keys a month after we moved to Stephenville almost 6 years ago and I just, a few months ago, found them in the couch.  In addition to not finding it, we haven't replaced it, so he doesn't wear a wedding ring.

At first, this wasn't an issue for me.  He's a forgetful guy, he loses things.  He lost a lot of weight, his already small fingers slimmed down and his ring didn't fit.  So, for him to have lost it wasn't that big a deal.  Honestly, even until recently, it hasn't been that big a deal.  So what if he lost it?  A wedding ring does not a marriage make, after all.

Lately, though, due to my insecurity, I've been thinking maybe I should put more effort into looking for it.  Although, it still wouldn't fit him.  Then, last night, we were at Peacocks with some friends, having a late dinner, when another friend came through the door.  It's not someone I had known before last night, but rather someone who is acquainted, one way or another with everyone else at the table.  I introduced myself and when I said that I was Matt's wife, he looked utterly surprised.

Okay, maybe I'm making a bit much of this, but I can't stop thinking about it.  Why would he look so surprised that my husband's married?  Was it me?  Was it that my husband doesn't tell his friends that he's wed?  I don't know, but it bothers me.  What bothers me even more than that is that it bothers me.  Am I just being insecure?  Was I interpreting his look for surprise when it wasn't?

I asked my husband about it, but he brushed it off as nothing.  I can't be upset with him about something someone else did, but I'm bothered by it.  So much so that I think I'm going to clean the bedroom from top to bottom over the weekend and try to find his ring.  It has to be here somewhere.

I'm sure the little voice at the back of my mind will shut the hell up sooner or later, but for now, she's not.  It'll either pass, or it'll be locked away at the back of my mind.  I don't let things go very easily, I'm inflexible like that.  I suppose one of the lessons I've learned is that sometimes, it's better to hold onto things for another time, when you might actually need them.

Wedding ring.  I'm going to look for it so that in the future, I won't be surprised by the look of surprise when someone who knows Matt finds out he's married.  That way, I won't have to be hurt over absolutely nothing.

Patience, not my virtue

It's not without frustration that I tell you this issue with school isn't getting any better.  I digress, for just a moment, to briefly explain/remind about the nature of the issue.   Some may remember that thanks to some changes in the curriculum, it's possible that I might not graduate this semester, as I should be.  It seems that at the end of the day, I'm one measly credit hour short.  One hour.  I've been trying to get it taken care of for almost two months.  I went to the science department (as it's a science credit), who directed me to my department, who've made a request of the office of the vice president of academic affairs.  All of that and still nothing.

I emailed my advisor last week, who said he'd look into it, and while I don't doubt that he is, I've heard nothing.  At this point, having exhausted all avenues available to me, I have no idea what to do.  I can keep emailing them, but it's nothing having much effect.  They are getting things done, but slowly, until recently when everything ground to a halt.  It's been almost 3 weeks since the VP of academic affairs got the request from the head of the English department and nothing.  It's not appropriate for me to email him, there's a chain of command to these things, so I'm basically stuck out.

Right now, after months of dealing with this, I just want to know one way or the other.  If I'm not going to graduate this semester, okay, but I wish they would tell me already.  I'd like to graduate, but not under duress.  If it takes one more semester, then it takes one more semester, even if it is over one measly hour.  Unfortunately, there're complications.  My need to know is not simply my impatience, you see.

If it were just a matter of graduating, knowing wouldn't be nearly as important, but that's not all.  I have to have my grad school application for Spring in by the end of October.  October is coming, it'll be here Thursday and once it is, the clock is effectively ticking.  Also, I have to have my FAFSA done so I can get financial aid to pay for grad school, which needs to be done sooner, rather than later, because it takes time for them to put together a financial aid package.

I don't want to pay the application fee (which is only $30) if I'm not going to graduate.  If I'm in one more semester, then I'll loose the fee and have to reapply.  Also, I don't want to apply for grad school financial aid for this school year if I'm not going to graduate because I'm worried that I'll loose what's left of my financial aid, which I may need for Spring if I'm still an undergrad.  Finally, I'm concerned because financial aid won't pay for 3 hours.  So, instead of having to stay in and take one damn class, I'll have to take two, which is just annoying.

I think, if I haven't heard anything from my advisor by the first, I'll email him again.  I think he, and the head of the department for that matter, is pretty annoyed with me.  I'm sorry, I hate to bug him, but I need this taken care of.  One way or the other, yes or no, I need an answer and I need it at the earliest possible date.

In my mind, the earliest possible date should have been a month ago.  They're doing their best for me, I know they are, I just wish the office of the VP of academic affairs was, too.

I, Pretty Pessimist

This is my third attempt to write an inaugural post for this domain.  So far, nothing has managed to satisfy me.  Why am I telling you this?  Truthfully, I'm telling you because I feel like it's a fair estimation of how I feel on a regular basis, perpetually unsatisfied.

This is the new home of that perpetually dissatisfaction.  Welcome to "The Pretty Pessimist."  If you don't know me, I hope you'll stay and get acquainted.  If you do know me, then you understand where I'm coming from.

I decided, last night, I need a place that belonged to me.  This is that place.  I decided that I needed a place where I wasn't half sold to someone else's topics and links.  I wanted a place that belonged, alone, to me.  Yes, I know I'm repeating myself.  I'm trying to drive the point home, not just for you, but for me, too.

The Pretty Pessimist is mine.  It belongs to me.  This is my promise to myself that it will always belong, alone, to me.  It's perfect, too, because it's exactly what I am.  I'm a pretty pessimist.  I look cheerful on the outside, but inside, it'll always be half-empty.  I don't have half-full in me, I never have.

Now don't misunderstand me.  I have moments of happiness, days of happiness, a life of general satisfaction, but for the most part, they're the minority.  I'm simply not that positive, but that doesn't make me unpersonable, at least I don't think so.  I have an amazing husband and great friends, they all understand and accept me for who I am, pessimism and all.

Ups and downs, that's what I've got, but they're all mine.  Chalk it up to my mental state, a touch of bi-polar disorder.  Chalk it up to my age, a grumpy old lady at 31.  Chalk it up to my gender.  Either way, I am who I am.  Nothing more and nothing less.

Nothing more and nothing less.