Thursday, November 21, 2013

"Want to Help People? Just Give Them Money"

http://blogs.hbr.org/2013/03/want-to-help-people-just-give/

Not sure how to feel about GiveDirectly, but I do agree with this writer’s statement, “As funders, we need to support nonprofits like these that use data-driven approaches, especially randomized control trials where possible, and we must challenge conventional wisdom on what works.”

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

My Boyfriend Chews Gum Too Loudly, Eats Too Much Yogurt, and Other Ridiculousness

First of all, it's pretty obvious that I'm Type A to the max. I am the kind of person who will be infuriated by a laughing child on the train about 40% of the time. Someone talking on the phone on the train 90% of the time. Someone breathing loudly or chewing loudly or clicking a pen or chewing hard candy 100% of the time. Ticking clocks, dripping faucets, tapping feet. These are the things that will send me on a killing spree. The rude homeless motherfucker on the train? Naw. I can ignore that shit. Repetitive sounds just a hair above consciousness? That shit really gets me going.


 "IF HE CRUNCHES THAT GRANOLA ONE MORE FUCKING TIME...I'M THROWING THAT BOWL OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW."

I've spoken with my therapist about this--yeah, it's that serious--and I think we've established that:

  1. My reaction is akin to my mother's if she heard us "chewing like a cow" or any of the other things she'd tell us through clenched teeth at the tender age of 5. She put the fear of god in us. Green breath, long nails clenched into our arms, and a square jaw with clenched teeth saying something like, "STOP CHEWING YOUR CUD." So the derivation of this "disease" is obvious. And...
  2. That different people have been raised in different cultures with different values (and non-psycho mothers who allowed them to chew, breath, make noise, etc), and I simply cannot handle not having control over common public space (I consider soundscapes as shareable "public" space, right?) and other people's bodies.
  3. The places where my partner and I differ that are my pet peeves are the same places that make me rip out my hair.

"YOU MOVED THE EGGS TO THE SECOND SHELF?!? WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!?!"

How this translates: my way is the only right way and everyone else is wrong. Which means I am an easily infuriated roommate and partner.

I mean, I know that I am crazy pants. 



I'm not crazy in the way someone will bash your car windshield in, I'm crazy in the sense that I will find something to complain about when there is nothing there to complain about. I nearly had a meltdown in IKEA because he didn't understand that I have to have heavy, weighted, matching silverware and that keeping 2 bowls from an odd-matching set was completely out of the question. Kind of like Mommy Dearest.



I have dated some real doozies, and Nick is great to me. So I find things to complain about since everything is going fine.

I can let the letterbox stank for about 5 days past it's changing date because I'm just THAT LAZY, but godforbid one of my own pet peeves be ignited. I also have a "holier-than-thou" attitude to this shit too. I have said "irregardless" in the past. Once educated about it, it quickly took it's place as a nails-down-a-chalkboard irritant. And so are a bunch of other, completely entirely "human" things that my boyfriend does.

Which brings me to this: Living together is hard. Like, really really really hard. 

We have been living together about 3 weeks. He is amazing. I love how great and easy going he is, but sometimes even how easy-going he is drives me crazy. I have actually told him not to be so chill and calm and perfect all the time and that I need him to be less of a "5" all the time and to have more emotional outbursts.

UMMMMM. WHAT? Did I just tell the only man I've ever dated more than a few months without hating or despising that I need him to be more annoying? 




So, last night, as my boyfriend pulled down a bowl from the cupboard for his nightly (and I do mean nightly, bc next to brushing his teeth, this is the only thing I see him do every day) bowl of crunchy granola and yogurt, I tell him I am concerned with his yogurt intake.


"You know, you're critical of EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING I DO."


And I am. And I hate it. I mean, I can't imagine if I dated myself. I would punch myself in the dick. I mean look at this face...



WE INTERRUPT THIS BLOG FOR A BRIEF UPDATE. I befriended my bf's cousin last week, and now I have full access to my boyfriend's embarrassing FaceSpace pictures. OMG. They are not nearly as tragic as mine, but I have to share. 


Everyone has at least one of these pictures. You know, a Mickey Mouse shirt, bad glasses, and overalls. 




OVERALLS.

And the 90s were not kind to anyone. I mean...


    
FROSTED TIPS.


Okay, I would have totally thought him a babe back in the day in that picture too. 

No, but really, look at this face: 


   
   

He is sexy as a motherfucker, and I can't believe that I get to date him. And do naughty things to him. He is so handsome, and so kind, and so patient with me. And we have fun, and have common interests, even if there's 20% of the music we both play that we both hate. I would be willing to put up with a million continuous plays of Linkin Park over the bullshit I've dealt with from other past relationships.

And besides  I'm crazypants. Always "working through emotions" and "unpacking my feelings" with therapy. I love when he teases me and I pretend to be fed up but he catches my smirt, and then we end up laughing and....Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah.

Dating is hard. And he eats loud or some shit.

Maybe I just need to keep these pictures in mind when he's doing that totally normal human shit that makes me nearly rip his face off. Maybe next time I should just rip it off and give it a kiss...No, wait, that still sounds fucked. Maybe I'll just leave his face where it is. Yeah. That'll work.

Besides, I mean, he IS dating this dork:




That collar. UGH. I get itchy just looking at it. 


Til next time, let's both try not to rip off our partner's faces for normal things. Like eating.