project management

It’s official: my apartment is in absolute shambles and I’ve just completed my usps change of address, filed a request for my voter registration in california, and changed my address and email in most of the places i need to.

i remain overwhelmed by moving, christmas, and work, but with 18 days until i become a resident of san francisco, and 4 days until i move out of my apartment, it’s all beginning to feel very real. i have a notebook of all my many lists and i have so much work ahead of me, i’m constantly reminding myself not to let it bog me down. i feel like i should be nervous or freaking out, but i’m feeling more excited and incredibly in touch with every moment that i remain in nj and ny. it’s an amazing thing to love where i’m leaving so entirely, and at the same time being thrilled by where i’m going.

wheeeeeeee, off i go to try and make some sense out of the sea of boxes and things scattered everwhere.

on the bright side



I got a filling last Friday, boo hoo hoo…shouldn’t be a big deal.

Never one for the dentist, it was a pretty horrifying and humiliating experience.  After neglecting to go for 4! years, it took a lot to go for my check-up, convinced I’d have a minefield of necessary root canals and cavities.  This time I was relieved to find there was would only be one.

My reasons for being particularly phobic of those who wield drills and needles are pretty run of the mill, though my years of orthodontia were only an introduction to the agony dental professionals could inflict.  My first dentist was exceptionally evil when I was a kid and was the first to destroy my trust (promising not to pull a tooth and then yanking it with pliers and no novacaine).  Then braces, molar removals, and more lies of "this really won’t hurt" when it really did.   I wasn’t a cry baby about it then and was actually tough enough to remove my braces a number of times.

Then came having my wisdom teeth pulled.  I had a number of nerves wrapped around one and one dentist actually refused to pull them even though they were infected, for fear I’d  lose sensation and wind up slurring my speech forever.  The day after Christmas, in my first year of college, I arrived to the oral surgeon’s office only to find his heat wasn’t working.  I was wrapped in blankets while he spent an hour trying to find a vein for my anesthesia.  He made me feel as though it was my fault and actually said, "I give this five more minutes and I give up."  I wanted out, but then I fell asleep.  Mind you this has been an issue since I was a kid, my veins are just smart, they evade injury.  I woke up to a miserable recovery:  two weeks of narcotics, my whole face was bruised fading to yellow quickly, my lips split on either side, dry sockets, and swelling that was beyond the norm.  I was scary to look at and in absolute hell.

Six months later I still had no feeling in my tongue or lower lip.  I went to a nerve specialist in Boston who was going to try a rare procedure to try and remove scar tissue in case the nerves were in tact and just "cut off."  Perhaps it was psycho-somatic, but after the rough housing that went on in my mouth that day, feeling started to come back and a few days later I was finally fully recovered.

I never had a cavity until I was 18.  Oddly, the nine years I was a vegetarian seem to directly align with my dental woes.  After that, all my dentist visits were riddled with numerous cavities, 4-10 shots of novacaine to numb me sufficiently, and eventually I couldn’t so much as sit in a dentist’s office without the waterworks starting beyond my control.  It was bizarre and I felt so crazy that I felt sorrier for the dentists than myself.  I was always so embarrassed that after 6 months passed, I’d find a new doctor hoping for a chance to leave with just a cleaning and my dignity.  It was always a fiasco.

And so, with my insurance about to wind down in the next few months, I want to tend to things before I move to a new place and possibly have less comprehensive benefits.  I sucked it up and on recommendation went to a new place.  I really should have gone with my gut after the first visit, but I believed that I needed to face my fears and follow it through.  I was thrilled to find a place close to work, but within a few minutes of arriving was incredibly uncomfortable as I heard a woman protesting and moaning a little in the room right near the waiting room.  When I walked to the exam room I saw that each nook had no door and the walls didn’t go to the ceiling, so sound carried in a very undignified way.

The tears and panic started right after the x-rays. My guess is that the first dentist was too impatient to deal with me and so after hearing whispering behind me and a swap of personnel, I met the dentist.  She was not the most sensitive woman, but I was trying not to judge.  I then had the most intensely painful cleaning of my life.  Again, I felt idiotic for reacting with tears and shenanigans.  When I was telling a few people I know about it later, I kept hearing over and over that when they’ve gone through that, they’ve been given novacaine.  Again, I gave the benefit of doubt since I’d voiced my sheer terror of needles, and she probably thought it quicker to just get it over with…though it did seem a bit medieval.  I was also discouraged to attempt laughing gas.

The point of my rambling here is that I am set back further than I thought possible.  When I returned for my filling, I realized that this was not the dentist to at all ease my fears.  She was ruthless.  After two shots of novacaine didn’t numb me, after assuring me I’d feel nothing, and promising me it was a tiny cavity, she roughly shot me in my palette.  I have never felt pain like that, even from a needle.  But, I was numb…and now  I didn’t trust her (not that she cared).  She even said "Let’s just get this over with, I know we both want to get out of here."  Great, thanks for putting me at ease.  The filling was worse than all the ones that upset me before.  She was rough and clearly rushing.  I felt the drill pushing really hard and knew that she’d gone all the way to the bottom of my tooth.  Whether this was hasty or not, I probably wouldn’t know, since I don’t think she wanted to say anything to upset me, but in doing so further cemented my absolute distrust of dentists.    When she brushed on "medicine" I felt a jolt of pain.  Obviously my nerve must have been exposed – I was numb after all, but just silence and the feeling of utter annoyance in my direction.  I’ve also never experienced having to do so much polishing and filing after the filling…seemed a bit sloppy to me.
And, now a few days later…I’m miserable.  The first few days other than a little swelling where I had needles poked, I had no pain or discomfort at all.   I now have a toothache on the entire left side of my mouth.  The tooth I had drilled hurts in a really bizarre way and I have pain in areas that don’t even seem related.  I’ve never had cold sensitive teeth and now even water hurts.  From everything I’ve read on the good ole internet, seems sometimes when you get a filling and they (have to or just go too far) and drill into the pulp, often times you wind up needing a root canal.  My worst fear and one that I am fairly sure is entirely the fault of the dentist, appears to be something I’ll need to deal with in my final days on the East Coast.  I am angry and uncomfortable.  I’m so upset and so terrified to face this, I really don’t know what to do.  I don’t even know how to go about trying to find a trusted dentist (on my insurance, root canals are EXPENSIVE) on short notice ,and one that can deal with such a basket case like myself, and not have this be the topper of all my dental traumas.

I don’t want to lose my teeth due to neglect, but I really don’t understand how knee surgery, broken toes, fingers slammed in car doors and stitches seem painless compared to having my teeth touched.  It’s normal for humans to avoid pain and it seems masochistic to willingly subject myself to a dentist chair.  But, now I have to, months ahead of schedule, because of a cruel woman who is in the wrong profession.  No matter what you do and your "skill", if you can’t treat people with basic manners, you shouldn’t be earning a living from it.

Grrrrrr, so I’ve vented my rage and I don’t feel any better.  This really, really sucks.


Update:  Everything turned out fine…Nicole panicked.


snow pajamas

i’m still unsure if pajamas should be worn inside-out or backwards when you want it to snow…probably because i never heard of this wacky tradition before i moved to nj in 1992.

i really want a big storm with lots of white stuff before i head west and it looks like what was hyped all day will be only a little more than what i woke up to on sunday morning.  i still hold out hope after the 22nd, when I start staying with my parents in the snow belt that is dblock, nj.

my favorite winter remains my last in nj before moving to boston, we got over 100 inches of snow that winter, including the big blizzard of 95 or 96, it was an interesting winter to learn how to drive, it added some time to my senior year of high school, and also the year we got sandi (who i think still thinks snow is the way it "should be).  maybe when i plan to leave the sky wants to see me off with lots of wintry goodness…even without proper waterproof gear, i’m hoping so.


i have tomorrow off to tend to some packing and some computer work…I’m thinking the best motivator might be to get up at an early hour and do some wandering, followed by tea, my blanket, and maybe even a short nap.  oddly, i associate recreation and vacation with days like these, and not on the beach in the sun.  i can’t wait to be with A.  and, oddly, for the first time in my life i am excited not to freeze or scorch seasonally…but can i live without snow in winter?  i’ll find out soon enough, though it will be a full year before i have to consider christmas decorations on days when i may not even need a coat.

change of address

It’s downright scary how complicated it has become to change my email address. Changing my home address is difficult enough, and fairly tedious knowing it will likely change after 6 months or so…but the email thing is positively astounding.

Example: To change my ebay email requires I change my paypal one. This can’t be changed until my banking information is updated. And once I change all of those, all my payment pages on my different websites have to be re-done and re-uploaded. I have so many web-related accounts linked to my paypal, so then all of those need to be changed.

and so on, and so on, and so on…