So many moons ago Tim found out he was going to get promoted from captain to major, and he kind of shrugged it off as no big deal, telling me that after a certain point promotions just happen unless you're a screw-up. But apparently it is a big deal, and the closer it got to June 12, the more apparent that became. It was sort of cute to see Tim reacting to it like a high school girl before prom. I even let him have a bit of say in my outfit selection, which has never happened before now. I gave him three options of a dress I might wear, and he of course chose the one that was the most overtly, in-your-face feminine. Which is fine except I always feel uncomfortable dressed like that when I'm confronted with lady soldiers in their uniforms.





I was surprised at how involved I was in the proceedings. I had to have a sit-down with Tim's boss before the ceremony started so that he could walk me through what was going to happen, sort like at at graduation ceremony.

First, Tim's boss gave a speech about me. Seriously. He called me Tim's "significant other," which is terminology I don't care much for, but what can you do? Army culture is very marriage-centric, so it was weird to have me there getting "the full honors" as just his girlfriend, but I'm the only real family Tim has. Anyway, Tim's boss talked about what I do and how I met Tim. It was blessedly short.

Then Tim's boss gave a rather lengthy speech about the awesomeness of Tim, including his wonderful personal traits, his performance as a JAG lawyer, the history of his entire career in the Army. Most of the time I forget or just don't think about how impressive Tim really is, but it's hard to ignore when it's laid out in a glowing verbal resume/recommendation. But Tim's boss also managed to get in quite a few funny jibes at him, too. He warned me ahead of time that publicly mocking the honoree is all a part of it, in case I might get offended. As if I'm wholly unfamiliar with the concept of playful snarking.





Then I had to stand next to Tim while the promotion orders were read by another officer in his office. After which Tim's boss and I had to swap out the pins on Tim's uniform that indicate his rank. I fumbled my side quite a bit, and Tim's boss had to come check on me after he was done on his end. Stage fright, I guess.





Then I sat back down and listened while Tim wowed the crowd with his hilarious, tongue-in-cheek speech about how this whole deal was surreal because he doesn't even like the military. And then it was time for presents. Tim's boss gave him a plaque to commemorate the occasion. Tim gave me some chocolates and a plushie dog. And then just as they were about to finish up, one of Tim's subordinates called a halt to everything for one last gift.

She explained that she's in charge of requisitioning supplies for the office. Staplers and Xerox paper and whatnot. Every other week she sends out an e-mail to everyone asking them to tell her what she should order. And apparently every single time she gets a reply from Tim that says, "A pony." I believe this to be true because I know Tim loves nothing better than to run a joke into the ground. Anyway, she presented him with a bright pink My Little Pony. And it was the best thing ever. Sadly, I have no photo of that.

Afterward Tim and I had to do the receiving line thing in reverse as we shook every person's hand as they exited for the buffet. It was fifty-some people, so that was a little awkward for me. Especially since they congratulated me as well as Tim. I kept wanting to say that I didn't really do anything, but instead I just pasted a blank smile on my face and alternated thanks with nice-to-meet-you, so I wouldn't sound like a broken record.

And then there was mingling. Although Tim was obviously exaggerating about not liking the military, it's true that he's always been a bit ambivalent about fully embracing the culture. The result is that I'm (unnecessarily) shielded from it to the point that it's fairly easy to forget sometimes that he's even in the Army. I had to pretend I knew who people were because they assumed Tim would talk about them at home when he actually doesn't. Ever. But overall, it was really kind of fascinating for me. It was strange and mystifying and cool to glimpse this whole other life he leads eight hours a day when I'm not around. Similar to meeting friends of your parents who knew them when they weren't your parents yet.

Last night friend posted a link on her Facebook page to a blog making fun of the cutesey-pie status updates that people who are in a couple sometimes make (STFU, Marrieds). The post was accompanied by some woe and hand-wringing because she makes the type of post ridiculed therein all the time.

Maybe it's the stress of my final project for my class hanging over my head, but I had an over-reaction to the blog and practically commandeered the comments section of her post to rant and rave.

For those who can't be bothered to click the link, here's a typical post. There's a screenshot where an innocent Facebook user has declared something boring but innocuous like, "________ is being a househusband today!!!" or "______ is going to call hubby so she can hear his voice before she goes to sleep." It's been posted on the blog by one of his or her so-called friends. And then readers reply back with scintillating commentary along the lines of "Vomit."

Really? Are we really so cynical and jaded as a culture that any spontaneous show of happiness becomes so reprehensibly irritating that it must be mocked until the happy person shuts up and resumes life in his or her repressive box? Sure, I rolled my eyes a little during the period when my friend's status updates entirely consisted of a daily countdown to her upcoming nuptials. But you know what? She was getting married, and I'm her friend so I was pleased to see that she was excited.

I am not a gusher by nature, but I appreciate that not every couple shows affection by constantly ragging on each other the way Tim and I do. Even so, I did recently post on my own Facebook some pictures from Tim's Army promotion ceremony along with a status update indicating that gasp! I was proud of my partner's accomplishments. The horror. I'm halfway tempted to narc myself out to this blog just to see what vitriol spews forth to put me in my place for such a ghastly offense.

Honestly, considering my fondness for vitriol, I might have given STFU, Marrieds a pass if they at least were funny. But it's the single most boring snarky blog I've ever read. You can't just laugh and point, guys. Prove to me you're actually more clever or witty or somehow deserving of space on Internet than your targets.

Also it's completely ridiculous to single out couples for abuse when 99.9 percent of all status updates (and tweets) on all topics are completely inane from the word go. If Facebook and Twitter would only let you join if you had something genuinely interesting to say, there would be maybe 10 or 20 members tops. And God knows I wouldn't be one of them either because (like many a grad student) over half of my updates are bitching and moaning about homework.

Let's face it. Micro-blogging or whatever they're calling it this week is the 24-Hour News Cycle Effect trickled down to the masses. The only thing that makes any of this BS interesting is the fact that (theoretically) you're supposed to care about the people on your friends list. If you don't, then why are you tuning in for their inner monologue at all?

So I've been freaking out for the last couple of days because when I went in for a routine exam on Wednesday, the doctor's like, "Are you aware that there's this lump in your breast?" And I'm like, "Say what now?"

So I called in sick to work today so that I could go have an ultrasound done to determine the nature of this interloper, and of all the various scenarios running through my head over the last 48 hours, the one that I never even remotely considered is what actually occurred. They couldn't find it in the sonogram. I couldn't find it by touch anymore either. So that's a thing that happened and is now over.

Am I grateful the radiologist wasn't "OMG CANCER?" Of course. But I think if I could have written for myself how this would all go down, I would've preferred for them to find it and say there was nothing to worry about. Because it's not like me and my doctor both just imagined feeling something the size of a lima bean floating around inside one of the twins. It was there a scant two days ago. And now it's not, which sort of begs the question of where the hell did it go? And what was it anyway? Will we ever know?

It's disconcerting. But apparently I'm fine.

I was not involved in the horrible Metro train accident yesterday. I haven't regularly rode the Metro in over eight months, and even when I did, I almost never rode red line. Still, reassuring people that you're not dead is quite the thing to do today. That's pretty much every Facebook status on my feed right now.

Superstition dictates that bad things happen in threes. I'm not really worried, but I do hope this city has reached the end of its run of terrible luck.

There was a shooting at the Holocaust Museum today.

It's been almost exactly a year since I went there to play the tourist. It's bizarre to think of how I can vividly picture the scene of the crime described in the news article because I've been there. I was terribly upset earlier today because I was stuck in traffic, preventing me from getting to campus early so that I could study before my class. And meanwhile some 88-year-old anti-Semite decides to go out in a blaze of glory, killing a security guard in a place that supposed to be about preventing violence.

Being a lawyer, Tim is extremely fond of watching reality-based educational cable television related to criminal acts of one kind or another, which why I've seen quite a few documentaries on modern supremacy groups in the United States. It always occurs to me that if one eventually does rise up and try to stage some sort of coup or something, it doesn't matter which ethnicity it is, they're going to want to put a bullet in my head.

It's a lovely thought to go to bed with tonight.

While stuck in traffic just to leave campus after my class tonight (caused by stupid high school families who have rented out UMD facilities for commencement ceremonies), I had plenty of time to ponder the fascinating scene on a particular green space next to the main entrance: an old dude instructing a young dude on the fine art of kicking someone's ass with what appeared to be a bo or a quarterstaff or some similar whomping stick-type weapon.

That was pretty cool.

Today is the day my tuition for this summer is due. I checked my online account status this morning, and the scholarship foundation that's covering me has not ponied up yet. Which means my registration is in danger of being canceled. I've explained in the past what registration is like in my college (dog-eat-dog); if I lose my spot in my classes, there's no getting it back. Cue flurry of panicked phone calls.

Long story short: the trustee of the foundation was in the hospital getting some new stents put in his heart, and the check got sent out late. A fax will get sent today explaining that to the Office of Third Party Billing, and everything should be cool. So I can breathe again.

I've been suspecting for a while now that this "foundation" funding my education is actually just one dude. A very nice, obviously wealthy dude, but still. One dude. He's seems a lovely gentleman whenever we chat on the phone, so I would wish him good health anyway, but I really have to hope nothing happens to him before September because I'm still going to need one more big check for fall semester. And if he keels over, I don't know if anyone's actually going to inform me.

I'm planning to go to Kansas City to visit my mom May 29-31. Just a quick in-and-out visit, mainly to make up for the fact that I got in a car accident when she was visiting me over Easter, and hence we didn't have the usual great times. This puts a point in the "Good Daughter" column.

I'm strongly considering not going to see my dad while I'm in town. Not even telling him that coming at all. That's a "Bad Daughter" point. Did I mention that the 30th is his birthday? Well, it is. So that's probably worth at least another bad point, if not two.

Sigh. I just don't want to deal with it. I'm spending more money than I really should on a trip essentially to just make myself happy. I want to spend a day with my mom. I want to see oberongeiger's new pad. I want to say hello to my friends at my old library. I know right now that nothing about going over to my dad's house and all of the associated drama will make me happy. Quite the opposite. But is that really a good enough reason to not do it? I haven't seen him in almost a year, and after Mom moves away from Kansas City this summer, my already infrequent trips to the area will become extremely rare.

I bought him a birthday card today, and a father's day card, too, since I was already there. That process is always so fraught with tension for me as I try to find a card with both a picture that he would like and an appropriate sentiment inside. Something that sounds nice without being a bald-faced lie. Hallmark doesn't make a "I'll never completely recover from the emotional wounds you've inflicted on me, but I hope you have a nice birthday anyway!" card. I just want to fulfill an obligation without feeling like I'm betraying myself.

We'll see what happens over the next couple of weeks. I may very well cave in to the guilt and call him. Honestly, most of the time we spend together is relatively painless, especially if we can keep the conversation focused on politics and movies. It's just that when it is bad, it's really, really, really bad. And I never know which it's going to be until I'm neck deep in it.

According to this Newsweek article, Spock and Kirk were the original slash, and that term evolved to its current prominence from fan musings about their relationship. If that's true, I find it really interesting.

I had a really tough time with my classes this semester. I crashed my car, and even though the damage wasn't that extensive, it got totaled out by the insurance company just because they didn't want to pay for damages. I'm still trying to convince the Virginia DMV that my car is still a car and not a piece of salvage. My mom got demoted, and that was just a dozen different kinds of terrible. I had very confused emotions about getting rejected for a professional development opportunity that I really wanted but simultaneously knew I didn't have time for. I've been experiencing just a general sense of unhappiness, probably due to a combination of icky late winter weather and stress. I had intended to make a big deal about all of that when I finally found time to blog again.

But you know what? Forget it. As of tonight, I officially have another semester under my belt. I don't have any homework at all, and I'm in a good mood for once. Funny how those two things coincide like that. So instead of bitching, I'm just going to sit here and decide what I want to do with my free time before I go to work tomorrow afternoon.

I could play Wii. There are lumas that need rescuing.

I could go shopping. I really need to replace a lot of my old summer clothes. I definitely need at least one pair of capri pants, and maybe a couple of casual day dresses just because.

Or maybe I'll just sleep in ridiculously late because I stayed up until four in the morning last night and two in the morning the night before that.

I want to be good. I want to use open source software so that evil doesn't win. I really do.

But I dutifully download a program. Then it tells me in the ReadMe that technically I have to download this whole other program to make the first program work correctly. Fine. I download that. And THEN I can't even open the damn installer on the second program unless I download ANOTHER program that opens special compressed files, and...

Oh, fuck you too, hippie. It's not worth it. I'll just sneak into work early and use Publisher there.

Did you know that people these days send out two sets of invitations to their weddings? You have the fancy invitation to which you must send the RSVP, but way before that there's an informal "save the date." Did you also know that Knotties abbreviate it to STD with no visible suggestion of irony?

Anyway, I came across a video STD *snicker* on YouTube from a bride who seems way too... something... for The Knot. Self-aware? Rock 'n roll? Tongue-in-cheek? Watch the video and then you tell me how to fill in the blank.

I cannot believe how much the registration process blows at UMD.

Registration for summer and fall classes is tomorrow. It's a dog-eat-dog affair because class space is extremely limited, so I have to get up early and make sure I'm ready to log on to the school website the very second that registration opens. It's a process very much like eBay sniping but with higher stakes. Anyway, in preparation for this event I double-checked the course offerings tonight, and it's lucky I did.

In the whole five days since I figured out my final planned schedule, seemingly half the entire roster of classes has managed to change. A huge chunk of the classes I'd counted on -- ones that have nothing to do with my actual career plan but at least I was vaguely interested in -- have been canceled and replaced with different classes. Classes that have nothing to do with my actual career plan AND that sound like the most mind-blowingly tedious crap on earth. I can't believe this. My educational situation just went from sort of dissatisfying to FUCK ME SIDEWAYS overnight.

And this is the end of the road for me, too. There's no make-ups, no hope for maybe next semester. I'm going to graduate next December. This was my last registration. This is what I'm going to be stuck with for the last five classes.

Work News:

I've spent the last couple of months adjusting to the idea that I would almost certainly be laid off at the end of June. I'd made my peace with that, but then I received some interesting news a couple weeks ago. Apparently the powers that be wanted to keep my "talent" in the system, and so a mandatory transfer to a different library branch was in order to protect me from the imminent and dreaded Reduction in Force. Frankly, it surprised the hell out of me to hear that anyone outside the branch knows I exist. It must have been the teen services task force I served on, but that was such a monumental waste of time, energy and resources I can't imagine how it would reflect positively on me. But whatever.

These events would be entirely welcome and happy, if not for the fact that I was transferred to the single most ghetto branch in the system, the only branch that requires paid security guards. However, there is a "ghetto" spectrum, and really all that's wrong with this branch is a group of rowdy high school students with no compelling after-school activities. In contrast, my Facebook feed was all aflutter today due the quadruple homicide that occurred across the street from the library where I used to work in Kansas City. I feel bad that four people had to die just to remind me to keep my career matters in the proper perspective.

Anyway, my first day was Saturday, and at least it seems like all the staff at the new branch are going to be nice. However, I did have a burly, agitated male patron ask for religion books and when I asked him to clarify which religion, he responded, "the only religion." Oy.

Life News:

Tim received a deferral from the Army on his transfer orders due to a death penalty case he's currently working on. So now instead of moving this summer, he gets to stay where he is until next summer. Which in turn means that I won't be homeless while I finish my master's degree. Yay!

School News:

I rue the day I registered for the class I'm taking in online communities and social networking. And not just because I don't like having to monitor the Knot message boards. It's because it's HARD. Like ADVANCED MATH HARD. It was supposed to be just a stupid, fun elective and yet it's totally consuming my entire life. I haven't cried over homework since the seventh grade, but trying to learn the network analysis software we're required to use has broken my spirit. At least the semester is half over already. I just have to tough it out seven more weeks, but I hate it so, so much. You have no idea.

Family News:

My mom will come out to visit me over Easter weekend, so that she may partake of the Cherry Blossom Festival in DC. I enjoyed myself last year and it's always good to hang out with Mom for any reason, so it's one of the few things I'm looking forward to in the near future.

The first week of my Communities of Practice class, I was required to select an online community that I will be researching throughout the semester. After tossing around a few ideas, I settled on the message boards at TheKnot.com, mainly because it's highly active with numerous people posting every single day and because members seem to strongly self-identify as "Knotties." I thought that would be interesting and maybe even a little fun. After all, I like weddings as much as the next girl. Or so I thought...

I've since realized my mistake. It's only been a couple of weeks, and already reading this junk is sapping me of my will to live. It's just as well that my analysis will only be for the classroom and not intended for publishable research because I don't think I'm very adept at hiding how judgmental I am towards these women.

I guess the silent majority of Knotties are probably nice enough. In fact, I do have friends who have surfed these boards in the past. But it just seems like the crazy rises to the top. For instance, somewhere out there is a bride who has mandated that all seven of her bridesmaids pay to get expensive hair extensions so that they will all have hair of a uniform length. That somebody would actually want to marry this Nazi astounds me. I also find some of the ladies on the "Not Engaged (Yet)" forum mind-blowingly pathetic.

Today I read a thread where several Knotties ganged up on another because the seven-year age difference in her relationship was "disgusting." For those of you keeping score, Tim is almost eleven years older than I am. The horror. At last reading, the Knotties had used this same thread to sound off on diverse topics such as how screwed up it is when the bride is at all older than the groom and the term "old balls" was tossed around liberally in reference to younger women who like to date established men. I fail to see how "established" (which to me indicates something like 30s-40s) translates into "old fart."

Right now I'm debating actually becoming a member. I really would much rather just lurk and never interact with anyone, but I'm afraid some of the members-only content might be useful or even necessary for my classwork. It also seems vaguely dishonest to pass myself off as a bride or even a wannabe when I'm neither, but I know if I come clean as a researcher there's a good chance these bitches will flame me on sight. And I know I won't be able to resist giving myself a subtext-y screen name. Something like Black_Widow or Stage5Clinger.

To fight the insanity, I checked out of the library One Perfect Day: The Selling of the American Wedding by Rebecca Mead, supposedly a scathing indictment of the $161 billion wedding industry. We'll see if I get a chance to actually read it. Honestly, though, much more likely than the idea that I'll start drinking the Kool-aid is the possibility that I'll get turned off ever getting married. Which is sad.