dream journal.

i dreamed last night that i found a secret basement in my grandparents' old house that was full of my grandmother's amazing vintage clothing, arranged by decade, from the 1940s through the 1980s. there were purses and shoes and tons of dresses, hung on rolling racks. it was VERY exciting. all the clothes fit me perfectly! there was some sense that everyone wasn't going to just let me have as many clothes as i wanted, which made me feel upset, but mostly i felt confident that i was going to plunder that shit like a viking, regardless.

then i woke up and it was just a dream and i haven't been to that house since my family sold it 10 years ago or so. it was fun being back there, because i love that house and i was too young and head-up-the-butt to really do anything about it being sold and i've always regretted that. in my dream it was a little more 'marie antoinette's house in the country' that in was in real life, and everything was covered in drop cloths, but it was still an overall pleasant dream.

white woman's guilt.

i'm not sure what it means that i haven't been writing here.
i haven't been writing anywhere, really.
haven't worked on my book seriously in months.
haven't meditated.
i dunno.
i feel a little off kilter, but not dramatically so. just a smidge.
i'd like to be doing those things more.
but not enough to actually do them apparently.

one thing i have been doing is pilates.

did i mention i'm doing teacher training to become a pilates instructor?
i am.
here's where i'm doing it.
it's fantastic.
it's changing my life.
i'm excited, proud, challenged - everything good.
i'm doing pilates about 5 times a week, and feeling stronger, so cool.

that's not really what i want to write about right now, though. maybe a little bit not really.

i want to talk about me feeling guilt over my lifestyle.

so, i'm not working.
that's not new.
i've come close to looking for a job a few times in the last year or so, but shannon felt like having me at home, managing the house and taking care of the dog, would be worth more than whatever smallish amount of money i'd be bringing in. and, given my eternal 'nyeh' over working, and general lack of vocation to speak of, i am totally fine with that set up. i'm actually not that good at being a a housewife and have really had my shortcomings thrust at me through this, but i'm developing really helpful habits, which make me an infinitely easier person to live with, i think.

so, i'm not working.
i'm married.
my husband is really handsome.
though we have our ups and downs, and went through a rough patch there a little while back, we're really happy together and totally in love.
we own our own home. (well, the bank owns it and we're buying it from the bank, but you get my meaning. our monthly payments are going towards something that we will eventually reap the benefits of, unlike renting. the fact that most of the payment goes to interest in the loan isn't the topic of discussion right now, but it should be, some day. fucking banks.)
i have awesome hair.
i get many services, that are very pricey, done for me for free, or at huge discounts, by incredibly talented friends.
i have many of the things that one pictures when they're thinking of success in the modern world and money. (new mac laptop, newish iphone, multiple ipods, gucci sunglasses, etc.)
i spend a very large portion of my time working out, doing a type of exercise that is usually insanely expensive.
i travel to fun places fairly often (LA, NYC, BALI!!!).
my body is pretty close to what the magazines say it should be. i'd be a plus size model for sure, but i'm in proportion and i'm closer to the ideal, physically, than a lot of people are.
one of my main responsibilities is to look after my dog, who is pure bred.
i am able to shop at whole foods (whole paycheck) exclusively, unless i feel like going to trader joe's for something.
my hair care and skin care products cost more than some people's haircuts.
i don't have kids, by choice, which means i only have to worry about myself, my (ridiculously handsome) husband and my pets.

what i'm saying is, i am living a life that a lot of people might consider perfect.
i'm not complaining.
my life is freaking awesome.

but, because i'm a human being and this is our eternal struggle, i experience unsatisfactoriness.
sometimes i lie in bed and dread going to the dog park AGAIN.
my hair looks wonky, or flat, or boring.
my forehead is short (really more of a threehead) and i can't have heavy bangs like i'd like to.
my skin and hair care products refuse to change my life the way the magazines tell me they will.
i want MORE things.
i tried on bikinis at target yesterday and looked WRETCHED. like, dimpled and jiggle and bulgey. really, really bad.
for all my working out, i look nearly the same as i always have, as far as i'm concerned. i'm not in smaller clothing sizes, for one thing.
i feel like i'll never lose weight, never look good in a bathing suit, never wear shorts or a short skirt without a hint of shame and fingers crossed that no one looks too closely.
i wish my mom was still alive.

what i mean is, i'm just like everyone else.
i want things that i can't have.
i don't want to do the things i have to do.
i am not happy with the hand (or midriff) i've been dealt.
i wish i was younger still.
i regret choices i've made.

and every time i say anything remotely negative about my situation, or express anything other than blissful contentment, i get scolded by people for being unappreciative of what i have.

it's gotten to the point where i am leery of even sharing my negative feelings about things, for fear i'll offend someone.
i feel like i need to couch everything in apologetic terms "this thing happened and it sucked. (i know, rough life.)" "totally stoked on my life, but wish i didn't have this thing to deal with." why am i apologizing for having the feelings i have? am i not allowed to experience unsatisfactoriness because i have a great life?

and what makes people think that not working, or having money at all, automatically means blissful contentment? do rich people seem happier to you? their families more functional?
look at ebenezer scrooge, man. he was rich a hell and he was miserable!

so, spoiler alert, guys: having money doesn't solve all your problems. it solves some. it creates others. me not having to work doesn't change the fact that my forehead is too short for the bangs i like so much on other people. it doesn't make me 17 again. it doesn't bring my mom back.

all it means is that i have more hours in the day to myself, which also doesn't solve anything. still not writing. still manage to piss entire days away sometimes. still mismanage my money, wish i had more/new/better clothes. still wondering which handbag will complete me as a person. still not doing anything about darfur.

it's true, i'm not sacrificing my life for kids, or having to make serious budget cuts, or wasting hours of my day and years of my life at a job i resent.

but i don't have everything figured out, and i still struggle with life, and i have just as much right to wrestle with my problems as someone who lives in section 8 housing, or someone with cancer, or someone with alopecia. i don't feel like my not needing to work cancels out my right to expect compassion over the things i struggle with, even if they're not life or death struggles.

you know what?
i don't know many people who are dealing with situations that are literally life or death.
and agreed, in the grand scheme of things, i fully recognize that i am lucky to have a torso at all, or a threehead, or an undervalued home. yes, i am lucky to be alive and not being raped a bunch in a refugee camp. we all are. does that mean that the people who are facing foreclosure on their houses don't get to worry about their problems? are they supposed to just be thankful for the fact that they're not facing refugee camp rape, and shut up about their financial concerns?
because if so, i expect a GREAT deal less complaining from pretty much everyone in the entire world, outside of palestine and darfur, 'kay?

of course i am thankful for my life.
my life is amazing.
that goes without saying.
if you hear me posting FML stuff, then you're welcome to tell me to shut up.
actually, you know what? even then, i'm allowed to be bummed for a while.

body.

hey!
it's been a while!
i'm not going to get into a recap.
i'm fine.
doing well.

but i'm here to talk about something specific.
i'm having some body issues.

i just started pilates teacher training.
it's very exciting, but mostly totally terrifying.
i never did sports. i never took dance or gymnastics. PE was often the only class keeping me from getting straight A's in grade school. i have never been in great shape. i've always been a reader, or a TV watcher, or a sitter-arounder-and-chat-and-smoker.
but when i was grieving so intensely the winter after mom died, i spent a lot of time working out. i did a lot of cardio and i did weight training at the gym. and i really liked it! i was very, very surprised because i'd never really enjoyed anything athletic before, but it totally hit the spot for me.
then i fizzled some on the gym, and i've been pretty sporadic about it, up until a couple of months ago, when i got really serious again.

i work out for many reasons, but the main one is that i want to lose weight and have a better body. when i was working out before i totally didn't see a difference, at all. shannon swears he did, but i don't really remember him ever telling me. i was mindful of what i ate, but i didn't sweat it too much. so i always assumed that the reason i never noticed more of a change, with my sudden dramatic increase in exercise, was that i wasn't eating right. maybe i needed to decrease my calories?

so this time around i've been trying to monitor really closely. i'm counting calories. i'm logging work outs. i'm measuring myself and weighing myself. and i'm still not really seeing anything.

so, it's only been a couple of months. that's one factor, i'm sure. i'm 30 and i'm sure my metabolism is slowing down, so i need to be patient. i still eat some carbs, and have to really struggle to keep myself away from sweets. i should probably quit all breads, but no carb diets just aren't sustainable, and i don't think carbs are inherently bad. i'm all about some complex carbs. but i should definitely quit sugar, and maybe gluten.

i dunno.

i'm just feeling really discouraged. i'm working so hard and it's hard to want to keep going when you're not really seeing the results. i know the goal is to be healthier overall, and it's a lifestyle change, not just trying to get thinner, but let's be realistic... I WANT TO LOSE SOME FUCKING WEIGHT.

i'm starting to get a little bit crazy. i feel like everywhere i go there are women/girls of all ages who have way better bodies and in my head i semi-obsess over what they know that i don't know. i lost a bunch of weight right before i met shannon, because i was eating these gross energy bars for breakfast and lunch and drinking tons of coffee and smoking cigarettes. one of his first orders of business after we met was to wrench the nasty bars from my hands, and shame me into smoking less, and i totally gained all the weight back, which is obviously fine and much better. but on some level, i consider buying a case of those bars from costco. i consider only eating bars, and taking vitamins and drinking water. i sometimes feel like i can only handle total control (basically anorexia, which i absolutely don't have) or no control (eating whatever.)

i don't really think i'm "fat" by conventional standards, and i'm totally within my healthy weight range for my height. but i don't want to be on the outer edge. i want to be in the middle, or towards the lower end. i am sick of feeling like i'm a bit chubby, or being embarrassed about my soft tummy. i feel like my difficulty losing weight is a total condemnation of my willpower, that i'm weak and a quitter and can't do it.

the person i see in the mirror is different all the time. somedays i feel nearly willowy, which is kinda my dream. many, many says i wake up feeling gigantic. not really gigantic. just kinda swollen. big. heavy. ungainly.

i'm trying to forge a new relationship with my body, after barely communicating with it for about 27 years. i don't understand how it works and i find it totally mystifying and very frustrating.

i wish i could see myself through a few other people's eyes, so i could get a better sense of how i'm doing and what i look like.

anyway, i'm not quitting. i'm going to be a pilates teacher someday, and so help me god, i will not be the chubby teacher. (i go to spin class and whenever there's a chubby teacher i can't help but wonder if they're doing it right, because if you're doing spin all the time, i'd think you'd we 90 lbs.) i'm not quitting, i'm going to keep on working on it and i'm not going to give up.

but i'm really discouraged and afraid nothing i do will make any difference, i'm just destined to be 'the birth of venus' forever. it could be worse.

writing.

my friend, cynthia, from my writing class, organized a writers' group tonight.

turn out wasn't fantastic, but i was totally satisfied with it, personally.

i'm already in a writers' group with her and another woman from our class, so this wasn't really about writing stuff together, or getting feedback on my writing, so much as creating a community of writers around me. we talked a bunch about how we wanted the group to function, and one lady wanted us to do writing exercises, like free writes, which sounded pretty unappealing to me, but i am open to whatever. free writes aren't my favorite and haven't ever been especially helpful for me, but that doesn't mean they're not useful to other people, so i'm certainly not aiming to be a kibosher or anything, and it's totally not MY group, so whatevs.

anyway, we mostly sat around and talked about writing and stuff related to writing, which is more fun than it sounds. (i'm sure everyone can relate. actors, midwives, burning man people, online gamers - everyone loves to chat with other people about shared interests and experiences.) pretty much everyone who came was a bit more established than me, which isn't hard to be. one lady has already written and published two nonfiction, self-help books. she's a pro. the guy who came was young - younger than me, probably - and he just got accepted to columbia's writing program. i was jealoushapppy for him. (side note: he started tutoring at 826 valencia, through which he got an internship for the summer. after the internship, he got a job. through his job, he met MICHAEL CHABON, who wrote his recommendation letter for columbia. dude. michael chabon. fuck. totally jealoushappy for him. luckily he was a likable guy so i didn't have to negatively affect my own karma by actively wishing him ill.) everyone in the group had attended conferences or classes or something. it was daunting and exciting. daunting because i haven't finished writing anything and even when i do getting published is fucking hard and even after you're published it's still hard. exciting because without meeting people who know about this shit, i don't know it, and if i don't know it, i'll never be able to do anything with my novel, if/when i finish it. and regardless of my own ego fluctuations, it was nice to just be in the midst of a group of people who do the same stuff i do, even though i'm not really doing it now.

made a deal with cynthia to start sending each other a set amount of writing everyday. she's already done with her rough draft, so she'll send me some reworked pages, but i'll have to send her 500 words a day. this is good. i haven't shared my book much with anyone, so having to share it will be good for me. also, 500 words is not that many for a wordy lass such as me. i can't sign my name with less than 200 words. i hope this inspires me to get writing.

gyming is still the best. second best thing, or, a supporting factor in making gyming the best, is the child care. i wish it was free, or included in the money i am already shelling out, but whatever. $3/visit is a small price to pay for a break from Li'l Bro, where i don't have to entertain him or feed him or pick up after him. also, working out is fucking tits.

shannon finally put my closet back together! when we boxed stuff up and took the house apart in preparation for the remodel stuff, i expected that everything would be done in about a month, so i pulled out a VERY limited selection of stuff. i've made it through spring and summer and early fall with, like, 5 dresses, 3 blouses, 2 sweatshirts and whatever is in my drawers, but the vast majority of my clothes were boxed up, waiting for my closet to be finished. (we re-drywalled the bedroom and had the doorway to my closet widened. also, s installed a light!) anyway, there have been some lingering things that never got finished because s went back to work and has had no free time to finish the trim and painting the new drywall and reinstalling the bar and stuff. well, this was the week for it!! you guys, i have a closet. and it's AWESOME. it's got a bunch of shelves and 2 (two!!) bars. i have some space to spare! and i have an entirely new-again-to-me wardrobe suddenly. it's just gorgeous.

some things i'm pondering:
-xmas is around the corner. i need to get my mailing list together.
-how am i going to pay off my credit card bill? it's killing me not-at-all softly.
-i'd like to be meditating more, but i have been exercising and i am going to focus on being stoked on that, rather than disappointed at my failures.
-for all my training, and a life of being alert to it, i am still mostly unable to tell my self-hating inner voice from my just-telling-myself-the-truth inner voice. it's always a surprise when i realize i have been falling hook, line and sinker for some self-loathing bullshit, and my detector didn't even go off.
-i repotted my mom's orchids for the first time this week. i've repotted other plants, and it always makes me kinda nervous, and orchids are pretty specific, and i've never repotted them, ever, but i went for it. some of them were looking really bad, and i'd be lying if i said it didn't take some casualties to alert me to the seriousness of the need. (RIP, plant buddies. you're in a better place now.) i've been looking at them, hoping for some immediate signs of their whole-hearted approval of the procedure, but so far, nothing. i don't think orchids work that way, though. patience is a virtue, so they say.
-lauren did my hair the other day and it looks fucking fantasic. seriously, maybe the best ever, i think. ashy, blondey, tousely loveliness.
-s shoveled up all the tanbark that was in the front yard, making it a ginormous cat box for the extraordinarily large local cat population. seriously, there are a fuckload of cats in the nabe, and all of them shit in our front yard. on warm days, it was unpleasant to linger in front of the house because the smell of sun-baked crap and pee was overwhelming. not a welcoming experience. so he removed it all and we scattered the wildflower seeds that brian and libby gave away as wedding favors. eagerly awaiting a wildflower paradise, still gently scented like cat excreta, no doubt.
-li'l bro was a lot easier this time than last time. he was being a butt last week, but he was freaking adorable this weekend. i am so much that annoying person who won't stop talking about their child/grandchild/nephew. want to hear some really cute stories? let me know. i've got some.
-i loaded tons of new apps on my iphone. not saving the world, but making it a little more entertaining. i'll let you know what i think of them iphone users. don't worry.
-second thanksgiving without my mom coming up. i was thinking about how my mom was dead, and not getting any less dead. in fact, because she wasn't alive to generate new memories or experiences, the old ones just ran the risk of becoming threadbare. even writing them down isn't the same. and my mom, who is still so real for me, and still such a palpably present absence (you know what i mean), will be totally unreal for my kids, probably. no matter how much i tell them, and how many pictures they see, she'll be a lady who died before they were born. they'll never know her, or really get how wonderful she was. you guys, she was really wonderful. i wish the whole world knew her, so there could be a global dialogue on the merit she contributed to the world. yet another of life's injustices/mysteries, is how one life can mean so much to some, and absolutely nothing to others. sometimes i still just can't believe she's gone. i'll look at a picture of her, from before the cancer, and she's so familiar, and so... real. not like a person who's dead at all. it's like we're just out of touch, not like she's fucking dead and i watched her die and held her corpse's hand. i paid money to have her body removed and watched them zip her into a body bag. that lady, smiling in the picture next to me. to rely on a terrible cliche, it's really like a bad dream, that seems distant but still has potency, but it's also still happening. the whole last year of her life, and the things that happened to me in my life because of it, really do blur together, and i am constantly surprised all over again that those things were real. it seems so far and so near, together. i wish that everyone could just tell by looking at me how deeply i am still sad. it's easy to gloss is over on a minute to minute basis, or talk about it like it's not that big a deal ('my mom died last year' is the beginning to so many fucking sentences now.) but that doesn't mean that i'm not still sitting here in front of my computer, crying quietly, again, trying not to wake up shannon. i still have trouble getting it together on a day to day basis sometimes. i still feel like i'm learning to live without a hand, or something, like something is still so wrong with my life. i just wish everyone could see it, so i wouldn't have to constantly feel like i needed to explain it. "i know it's been a year, but i'm still pretty fucked up." not like there's a statute of limitations on this stuff, but one year feels like a long time. i can see why people commit suicide while dealing with grief. i am not considering it, so no need to be concerned, but i can relate to the feeling of overwhelm at the prospect of facing an entirely life of missing someone. i will have no new memories to generate with me mom, ever. that seems nearly impossible to bear sometimes.
-sorry to end on a downer note. also, cats and chipmunks and that little girl telling stories in french all exist and that's something that's cool. laughing, cool. being compassionate with myself, cool. working out, really cool. it's like eating a dish you are LOVING, but regularly getting bites that include a specific flavor that you really don't like. you very much enjoy the dish and are grateful for it and actually wouldn't trade it for another version, made without that icky ingredient, because there is something inherent in that ingredient that is a crucial part of the tastiness of the dish. but that doesn't mean the ingredient tastes any better.

grab bag.

* feeling sad for jennifer hudson

* feeling impressed with myself because my internet crush said my comment was the best one of the week. also deeply embarrassed to be so pleased with myself.

* found a hecka cute diaper bag. seems premature to buy it since we are not actively trying to make babies, but it was tempting. too early to buy it for zoe? diaper bags are too personal to buy for someone else. i have already begun imagining my possibly endless search for the Perfect Diaper Bag. i'm probably going to show up at my kid's wedding with it, having just finally found it.

* i would for reals like to live here. the website is full of information and links and stuff. i love it.

* i've been searching the internet for chord tableture for mom's autoharp. so far i haven't had much luck, though. since the autoharp has set chords, you can't use any chords other than what they offer you, so if the song you want to play has lots of minor chords in it you're pretty much screwed. so, no depeche mode. i've had the best luck with cat power songs. also some james brown and a saves the day song. should be an interesting repertoire.

* tried some new foods when i grocery shopped yesterday. here are my reviews:
- rice yogurt: completely disgusting. too sweet. too watery. really, really icky.
- cassava chips: super tasty. i got the bbq flavor but i'd like to try the sea salt ones.

* i've been fretting a little bit about the election and my concerns about how jacked up this election could get because of how big the turn out will be. i worked the primary and it was a nightmare, and that wasn't nearly as big a deal as this election is going to be. but mostly my fretting was idle, because working the last election sucked so bad, i didn't want to do it again. except a lady called me the other day to ask me to work a polling place that was down one person, so i said yes. again, the precinct captain has never been the captain before and isn't going to know what to do, which is exhausting. there is one other person who has worked the polls before, probably the guy named harvey, because it's mostly senior citizens who do it. it's nice to have some good old people ju-ju, but it was hard explaining the newer stuff to them last time...you know...like electricity. (i kid.) they give each polling place a palm pilot that we can use to find voter info, if we need to. the very cranky old lady i worked with last time was deeply suspicious of the palm pilot, resentful that they changed the system that she felt worked fine, and also dead set on us showing her how to use it, even though she wasn't ever going to get it and she totally didn't need to know because other people could have done that. is it patronizing to feel like it's not work her effort to master technology she will probably never use? possibly. so, i'm working the polls. at least i know now what i need to brush up on because the accounting at the end of the day is fucking HARD and our group messed it up a bunch because we didn't know what we were supposed to be doing. i'll go to the info session again this time to brush up and i'll stay the WHOLE time and then basically have to run the precinct, but that's fine. it'll be like a group project in college, where you just assume everyone else is lazy and stupid so you do it all yourself.

* a couple of weeks ago shannon vivisected my laptop. my optical drive was all messed up, so my man took lappy to work and removed the old one and put in a new one. he also stoked me with more storage (like, 10X more) and more RAM (like, so much more) AND gave me leopard! basically, my good old lappy came back a brand new computer! i have pretty much every application open that i can think of right now and you'd never know it because it's working FINE. awesome.

* bought some new lip gloss. the color combo i go was daredevil and sandpiper. the picture on the website really doesn't do it justice, though. the daredevil color is really a red-pink. very berry colored. and the gloss is a nice shiny nude, which takes the intensity of the red-pink down a bit. i'm lovin' it. also was given a free DELUXE sample of some other lip gloss that i am loving. i got a sample of this stuff a while ago and i liked the smell and taste and consistency, but it was clear with silver sparkles which isn't super useful. this new one is 'dolly' which is pretty much my lip color, but a smidgen more oomphy. i highly recommend this brand.

* been hitting the gym again. stoked on it. not gonna talk it up too much, just saying: i'm back, i'm happy, i'm sore from training.

retail lust.

sigerson morrison for target launched today.
i've been reading about this in the magazines for a while, and checking the website to see if it had dropped, and today was the day.
i'm a little embarrassed about how stoked i am about this news. i sent out an email to my fashiony ladies, telling them. like, i'm not sending out anything about the elections because 'nyeh' but i HAVE to email people about some shoes at target. i might be part of the problem.
that being said, i am a big fan of sigerson morrison, while also being filled with resentment over their absurdly high prices. seriously, $400 for a pair of little suede heels?
well, maybe the prices aren't absurd.
maybe the shoes are stuck together with unicorn hair and archangel spit.
but for reals, they're very, very spendy.
so this is my chance.
ugh, the economy, you guys.
someone should really buy my mom's house.
that would be nice.
in other news, i went to the gym today for the first time since august and it felt fantastic. i made a training session for tomorrow, too. time to start getting my read literally and figuratively in gear again.

body acceptance.

while researching magazines and their submission requirements, i came across the magazine bitch, which i don't read usually. it's a feminist magazine, calls itself a feminist response to pop culture. i was poking around the website and i read a couple of the articles. both of them were interesting. i mean, not pulitzer prize winning, but addressing interesting topics.

one of the articles, about the fat acceptance movement and how it (allegedly) shuns members with eating disorders, was especially thought-provoking. it made me think a lot about my own prejudices about weight. the comments the come after the articles itself were pretty interesting, too. the entire idea of a fat acceptance movement really got me thinking.

i totally understand the purpose of the fat acceptance movement. i can't even imagine how hard it must be to be seriously overweight in america. one of the commenters referred to the decapitated 'fatties' who they show on the news all the time when referring to the menace of obesity. those are real people, those decapitated fatties. they're people with feelings, and they're used (against their wills) as examples of morbid obesity, and what were they doing when they were photographed? eating with their families. walking down a street on a sunny day. all the jokes on tv that hinge on someone being really fat (the 'monica in a fat suit' sequences on "friends," for example). all the magazine covers showing some celebrity who lost 30 lbs in 30 days. there's just so much pressure to not be the way you are. even i feel it, and i am nowhere near obese. but even i feel a little twinge over those things, so it must be exponentially more painful if you're the object of all the scorn.

but i do seriously question this idea that being fat is just fine. not because it is a moral failing or because it indicates some sort of moral decay on the overweight person's fault, but because it's not a healthy choice. (we're going to disregard eating disorders for now, while acknowledging that they are a factor some of the time.) i also question how being seriously overweight can be unassociated with some sort of disordered eating behavior, or disordered living choices. not that all overweight people are binge eaters, but that letting one's weight become dramatically overlarge or oversmall is a sign of imbalance, which deserves attention.

i'm trying to think of comparable lifestyle choices. smoking? it's a choice you're making. it's hard to quit. there's a lot of societal mixed messages related to it. a certain (though much lower) degree of social stigma attached. it will probably kill you... but then you think about how quitting smoking is hard for people, but they do it by just not smoking. you can't not eat, totally avoid the substance of choice, so the comparison breaks down. i don't know. i can't think of a good comparison.

i don't know many people who are terribly overweight and feel good about it. i don't know many people who are overweight because they choose to not care about their weight. i know mostly people who struggle with their weight, who struggle with making lifestyle choices that are healthy.

if someone is overweight, should one be supportive of behavior that one thinks is unhealthy? even if the eating isn't the issue, even if not exercising is the issue, isn't it possible to support the person, love them, want them to be healthy and happy, not because being fat is gross or ugly, but because they are hurting themselves? is that healthist?

p.s. i can't even believe there is such a term as 'healthist.' it's true, there is a prevailing agreement in modern culture that being healthy is good and being unhealthy is bad. there are agreed upon (sort of) idea of what is healthy and what isn't. so, how does healthism show up? would encouraging someone to get more exercise be healthism? what about me harassing shannon about putting neosporin on his cut? it's such a weird idea. of course, not so weird that i am going to do research on it and find out more. i think i'll just idly wonder...

mall madness,

ladies, payless shoes is doing some good stuff right now. look at those shoes! the blue ones look almost exactly like some calvin klein ones i saw later in the day, only the payless ones were more comfortable, and, duh, a fraction of the price. also, i'm not sure if i was able to capture it, but the slip-on tennies are covered in japanese-y cartoon figures. there are some scattered fug sequins, but those would be easy to take off.

just saying.

maybe check out payless soon.

i didn't *want* to go to the mall in santa rosa, you guys. but my phone died, in an unavoidable, no-way-to-fix-it way, so took it to the apple store in santa rosa (i know! who knew they had one there?) and they gave me a new one, thank god. shannon had made me nervous that they would want to send mine to the factory to have it tinkered with, and i was feeling decidedly twitchy at the prospect of being unphoned for a while. what have we become? remember when we didn't even have pagers, or when phones weren't cordless? and now, i can't stomach going a few days without my cellphone.

anyway, they were nice and gave me a new one, probably because mine had gone from illin' to non-responsive dead while it was there.

so, elated from my new phone swap-out, i felt like i had to check out payless, since i was right across the hall and there had been a pair of sandals that i was considering. and, lo and behold, the selection in SR was amazing.

but i didn't buy anything because i am a smart person.

then i went to macy's and tried shoes on but didn't buy anything and then i went to forevs and bought one shirt and a bag, making it the only time i've ever left forevs having spent less than $100.

i was woozy and light-headed from hunger, so i went to lunch. the restaurant was insanely busy, and i waited and waited without complaint, only to be told that the thing i ordered wasn't available, a piece of information i could have used BEFORE i'd waited for 20 minutes for my food. so, i ordered something else and waited some more. my food came and it was fine, but not as good as what i had ordered before, but i read and drank pellegrino and had an espresso and a piece of coffee cake and everything was pretty much fine.

now i'm home, and new iPhone has been implanted with the intelligence of old iPhone and it's almost like the rift between us never occurred.

i know. this is a pretty fluffy journal entry.

sometimes it's nice to not have to write about angst and sadness and self-doubt. sometimes it's nice to just talk about a nice pair of cheap shoes, you know? also...





they seem to have misspelled my name on my clothing labels. i should talk to someone about that...

also, you guys, i really want this bag. ideally i want the one in the navy blue, below this, but i would also be happy to take the bronzey one to the right. it is currently on sale, at revolveclothing.com, for $2oo-something, marked down from $400-something.



if you're really dying to buy me a present, and can't seem to figure out what to buy, this would be a safe bet. oh, but you could also buy me the sienna bag by deere calhoun, also available on the same website. i'm partial to the three pocket version, in grey.

so much.

i have been really wanting to write a blog, but i just never seem to make it happen, and now is no different.

i have a bunch i want to say, but i have to go to the gym now, before it gets to late to go.

sorry.

i just wanted you to know that i've been meaning to check in and i am thinking about it and it's bound to happen soon.

okay, time to change into gym clothes. after my punishing training session yesterday, i am surprisingly less sore than i thought i would be. i did drink a butt-load of water, all day, so maybe that's it.

new year, new (old) me.

2007 was a year where i relearned who i am.
obviously the stuff with mom opened the door to skill sets that had thus far remained dormant, but i'm talking about more secondary stuff than that.
i learned that i really, really, really like working out.
i've been doing personal training, twice a week for a couple of months. i've been averaging cardio 3 times a week. and the simple act of working out has become the most important part of it, not the results. i've always gotten frustrated at how long it takes to see results from working out, and have never really developed that fire for it. i don't know if the one causes the other, but they've certainly both been true in the past.
this year, since mom died, i suddenly get why everyone likes working out so much.
it's because it's fucking awesome.
i've never been sporty and have never really had a strong relationship with my body, in the sense that athletic people do, where it's your mind and your body kicking ass together. but i get it now.
i'll get so stoked during my cardio that i'll start laughing.
i'll grunt and groan like a real weight lifter.
i look forward to my training sessions with mingled dread and excitement, every time, because i know that he's going to make me do things that are unbelievably uncomfortable, but that i'm going to be able to do them, even when it seems like i can't.
i hit a wall during my training today, and i came really close to asking my trainer to cut stuff short. the second set of exercises he had me doing were crazy hard, and i was feeling tired and weak. but i didn't ask, and he didn't offer (because he's awesome) and i pushed through that resistance into that thing we call The Second Wind. i ended the session feeling stronger and more focused, happier, lighter...just all around better.
you guys, i can't overstate what a huge transformation this is for me.

another thing i learned about myself this year is that i am way less willing to sacrifice my physical comfort for style now. i have been wearing a pair of my mom's dansko clogs a couple of days a week, and while i still don't think they're necessarily cute, i find them tolerable, which is not something i would have ever imagined myself saying. also, they're so comfortable, it doesn't even matter that much. i went to shoe pavillion the other day and i bought a new pair of fake uggs for new york and a pair of birkenstock slip ons, like the pair i have already, but in bright yellow patent leather. so cute. but i would not have guessed that THOSE would be the shoes i would leave with. not heels. not fancy flats. comfy shoes. also, i bought a polar fleece zip up at REI because new york is going to be crazy cold and i need to be prepared. these things are also huge transformations. i have always been so judgmental about clothing and really focused on what looks cool, and while i still think about that stuff, and try to mix in the comfy stuff in a way that doesn't make me look like a jammie monster, i am more comfortable with being a jammie monster.

i learned that i'm not afraid to try new things, the way i once was. i was almost paralyzed by fear of trying new things, specifically skills, but this year that just kinda disappeared. suddenly i'm cooking and teaching myself the autoharp, working out, slogging through french language magazines. i just don't care whether or not i'm the best anymore. i just want to try it out.

i realized i'm an artist. i'm a writer. while my dad and mom would roll their eyes and say 'duh' about this, it's a huge revelation for me, and fundamentally changes the way i look at myself. suddenly i'm part of this community of people who struggle with their creative demons, battle a sense that they're fooling themselves to even try this, self-analyze, but ultimately breakthrough their own mental resistance to create things that are Theirs. that's me. that's what i do. after years of paddling around in the baby pool of academia, i am suddenly edging myself into a deep end that scares the pee out of me. but is also exciting.

i'm not going to say that the good stuff makes the bad stuff worth it, because that's a bunch of crap. the good stuff makes the bad stuff tolerable. nothing makes it worth it. but i am thankful for the things that happened this year that acted as sugar in my spoonful of harsh, sad medicine. many of you were part of that, sugar cubes that sweetened my life, and i am grateful for you, too. i meet 2008 not with defiance, because i learned this year how hard times can get, but with steady acceptance. whatever happens, i'll be okay.

the big day.

december 27th, 2007.

that's the day that shannon and i tied the knot in san francisco.

want to see some pictures?

go to the 'our wedding' link. the majority of the pictures turned out really nicely.

yumi.

yumi is the name of mom's house/farmlette.
i went to yumi today, to work on mom's stuff.
with linda's help, i was able to complete mom's closet, with was amazing and wonderful. christmas magic does happen!
allen asked if he could take down mom's jewelery board, which hangs in the bathroom, and has all mom's everyday jewelery on it.
he said that he didn't really need to be seeing it every day whenever he goes into the bathroom, which i can understand.
and then he said something about how if he had a lady over... he didn't really finish the sentence, just let it trail off.
me and linda both got creeped out by it but i let it go.
it was just an inappropriate thing to say, but what's new, right?
i brought down a bunch more stuff to keep, but less than last time.
closed out her safety deposit box. brought down her fireproof safety box. all her jewelery. a few pairs of shoes.
among the shoes, i found two pairs of clogs.
not wooden clogs, the rubber nursey kind.
i felt like the green ones, which are forest green and pretty worn and are the backless kind, will be cute and helpful for working in the yard.
and i am currently wearing the black ones, the kind with the backs on them, and since my dogs are barking from wearing the nike tennies i bought at ross that i thought were going to be awesome but are actually not comfortable AT ALL, i think i am going to go grocery shopping in them.
'them' being the clogs.
is this how it starts?
i've already mostly stopped wearing heels because they're uncomfortable.
what's next?
elastic waist pants, because they're comfy?
polar fleece, because it's cozy?
have i begun the slippery slope into function-based dressing in earnest?

getting settled.

i'm back from my holiday in la.
it was lovely, as usual.
i was a little out of sorts on monday, and am feeling out of sorts today.
i think it's just me getting weird from having too much alone time.
it's beautiful today in 'luma.
sun's shining, but the air is crisp. it's nice to have something to warm at least the front half of our little icebox.
i'm just going to spend some time getting settled again, probably just today, and then tomorrow i begin gitting 'er done.
i bought some amazing boots in la, and a yummy striped cashmere sweater. some other stuff, too, but those are the stars.
missing mom today.

our house is a very, very, very fine house.

um...we're home-owners on thursday.
tomorrow morning we do the walk-through, to make sure there isn't anything that they've done to the house since we saw it last that will be a deal breaker, but it'd have to be something really, really big in order for us to be able to use it as an excuse.
so, we'll be able to start moving in on friday.
weird, huh?
well, maybe not that weird for you, because you're not me, but for me, that's really fucking weird.
due to our current landlord being a dunderhead/ass-hat, we have all of august and september to move, so we'll just move one room at a time, i think. on the days i am home, i'll pack and move my stuff. move my stuff, into my house. which we own.
dude, we could do anything we wanted to that house. we could, like, wheat paste huge posters of hard core porn to the outside walls. or have a friend to a mural of bob marley smoking a joint, riding the lion of judah, and put that on the door. we can buy new doorknobs and light fixtures and cover the windows with tinfoil, if we really want to.
cuh-razy.
on a unrelated note, i got home a little bit ago, after a spectacular shopping spree at sephora, which of course made me feel like a new, skinnier, more lovely and shine-free and tiny-pored version of me with perfectly moist pink lips was absolutely within reach. then i had to stop at kragen to get a new gas cap (again) because i left mine on the roof of my car (again) and to buy a new steering wheel cover (grey suede again.) then, i took my first shower in days and it felt absolutely transcendent. i had to switch to bad old negative ions to fancy new positive ones, and the combination of that, smooth legs, and being at home has radically changed my attitude for the better.
now, margaritas and tasty din-din with luce and shann-o. word to the third, as luce said the other day. word to the third.

albert hammond, jr.

i haven't been very inspired by music lately.
with all my driving, and all my not-rad-stuff-happening, i've been listening to books on cd while i do my 2hr drive to/fro mom's.
i have listened to some good stuff.
'black swan green', by david mitchell was fucking fantastic. exactly what i wanted. funny, charming, heartfelt, gorgeous, sweet. wish i could hear it again for the first time.
'all creatures great and small,' by james herriott is a classic. a light trifle, with plenty of english humor and lots of stories about soulful animals. nice.
i just bought 'harry potter and the chamber of secrets' today. reading the end was just too much for me and i was moved to start all over again, from the beginning. i am yearning for a life filled with warm fires, butterbeer with true friends and things covered in purple velvet. cozy and squashy.
i decided that tonight i would look up the music i have been meaning to check out, but haven't.
admittedly, i didn't listen to whole albums, just what myspace or itunes would let me hear, but i have made some decisions.
-razorlight - violently, no. well, i bought one song and barfed in my mouth over the other ones.
-kings of leon - no, but less so.
-silversun pick ups - undecided. one of the songs made my heart hurt, but the others left me unmoved.
-albert hammond, jr. - brilliant. loving it. i have always been sad for him, because he's the least cute of the guys in the strokes, but he doesn't need me to feel sad for him because he's got some sweet-ass songwriting skillz. i mean, nothing revolutionary, but catchy, non-cloying, mellow but not sleepy. it's thee goodz.
-lily allen - nyeh.
-amy winehouse - yeah, alright. i'll bite. i like my some soulful lady singers, even if her 'look' is pretty repellent. also, that not-so-blind item about her smoking crack in the ladies' bathroom at lollapalooza was gnarls. sad times, amy. love thyself.

i spent some time decorating the hidey hole today. it's musty and spidery and gives me a rash, but it's MY rash-inducing hidey-hole and i am grateful for it. so, in an effort to give myself more ways to take care of myself, i am making the hole more comfy cozers. also, i brought up my paint-by-numbers and some stuff for collaging. i am looking for good ways to step away from the bone-deep sadness of spending so much time with my vegged out dying mom, and reading and computering are both really head-y. i am trying to find ways to get out of my head, so tab suggested art.

i wish the showers at my mom's were better. taking showers up here sucks. the hot water doesn't last for shit. i just end up saving up my dirty until i head home for a shower. groders, but who cares, right? it's fucking redwood valley. being in redwood valley washes away all the low self esteem of living in la. going from an sf 8 to an la 5 to an rv 155 is gratifying. it's like i'm a brazilian supermodel or something.

tomorrow some visitors will come up here and i am looking forward to it. having people visit me is awesome. i am sure mom enjoys visitors some, too, but i am the one who needs them the most.

empty.

i felt really, really blue last night.

i think it was the combination of stuff sucking ass with mom and that being an overwhelming energy drain, and then watching little mykkie for 10 hours, which was also an overwhelming energy drain.

man, you know what takes it out of a person?
watching a tiny person who is 1.25 years old.
he was very, very well-behaved for us.

he was super fussy as a small baby, and even recently, he's been slow to warm with strangers, but he's a little butterbean with me and the man.

he took a little nap on our bed (after some masterful coaxing and soothing and trickery from me), shared lunch with us (chicken satay, cucumber salad, cheerios), and generally cruised around touching everything and trying to fall on his head. he doesn't know anything about watching where he's stepping, being careful about hitting himself in the face or head with things, gentle vs. rough, loud vs. quiet. what he knows about is being so cute that it hurts one's tummy and being a cuddlebug.

between the emotional hurdles of helping my mom and the energetic hurdles of watching that baby, i was tired to the point of near meltdown. when i panfully pinched my finger with the bottle opener, trying to open my cider, i started crying.

i just thought, 'really, god? really? i deserve *this,* on top of everything else? what the fuck?' and then i cried because sometimes i feel like god is mean, or confident in my coping abilities to the point of being an over-delegator. i can't be expected to manage EVERYTHING, god/universe. please remember i'd also like to enjoy my life, not just win the sympathy and admiration of friends and strangers alike for my plucky sticktoitiveness.

i went to bed pretty early, convinced that basically everything was screwed.

i woke up this morning feeling an eens-weens bit better, but still a bit down.

i moped around the county until i finally got off my keister and went to the gym. i have spent my entire life not wanting to exercise, and only within 2007 - year when everything fell apart - have i really understood why people like exercising so much. i think it takes a while to get over the hump with working out, feeling uncomfortable, fat, out of shape, etc, and into the zone where just being there makes you feel proud of yourself and better for some reason. i always feel thinner the day after i gym, and more healthy and optimistic. i get it now; i get why people would want to go to the gym after a long day at work. and i'm relieved i finally get it, because i was pretty worried about being overweight later on and bitching about it all the time. i'm learning good, healthy habits now, that will help me in the future and help my kids be healthier and happier, too. i just always felt so left out by the physical activity thing, but now i'm in with the in crowd.

the man and i drove to the 'luma to check out future home at night, and see how loud the nabe is after dark. there is some freeway noise, since we're on a hill, but it was totally within the range of noise levels that are acceptable to me. i think man-head agrees.

on a different note, should i make up code names for everyone, so that when i become famous for my blogging (insightful, inspirational, hilarious - something for everyone, really), my adoring fans aren't mobbing me and my nearest and dearest? am i being silly to even think that? i am just thinking about stalkers or weirdos. maybe i should be more careful about the personal details and stuff.

what do you think? is using nicknames pretentious and self-important, or is it wise, to protect me and my peops from prying?

not easy.

i'm spending the night at my mom's tonight.

i've been meaning to come up here for the last...um...3 months-ish, and have been avoiding it.

it's just so much harder to spend time with her now, with her new brain. i don't really enjoy our time together, and i spend the whole time correcting her, enlightening her, scolding her, motivating her, etc. her brain makes weird leaps now, where strange things seem real to her. that's especially upsetting, given how borderline delusional her boyfriend is at times. we've always relied on her to be the normal one, and now she's thinking weird things, too.

i guess she spends long periods of time just sitting. not really looking at anything, or doing anything aside from...sitting. just sitting. i told her i find that scary - what the fuck is she doing when she sits there? she said it freaks allen out, too. no doubt it does. i asked her what she's thinking about, and she said her mind just wanders. she says it's pretty pleasant, actually. i also didn't enjoy hearing that. hey, mom, how about you spend less time enjoying your slack-jawed staring, and a bit more time actually living in the world?

on a related side note, people feel the need to play devil's advocate with me about my mom. obviously i'm having hard time with this, and feeling some frustration with my mom, and it seems to make people really uncomfortable for me to complain about her. i thought i'd address this right now, in case anyone feels compelled to do this:

my mom has always been one of my closest confidantes, to the point of concerning my dad at times. we've always been very, very good friends, as well as mother and daughter. i've always been able to talk about anything with her, and i've relied on her to fill a specific niche in my life.

now, my mom's a completely different person. she's still really funny, and thinks things are funny. she still enjoys things that light up, flash, glow in the dark, or are prismatic and shiny. she's her, but not her. she's confused, unmotivated, disorganized, uncommunicative and generally loafy. yes, i realize having cancer is probably very difficult and scary for her. agreed. you know who else her cancer is difficult and scary for? me.

and i'm really bearing the brunt of the cancer-related details, about treatment, finances, the future, and everything else. she just isn't handling that stuff.

she's my mother, and she has been an exceptional mother, and i love her and it's my privilege and duty to fill this role for her - AND it's not easy, and i think it's natural that some times are harder than others.

i have found that our roles have completely switched, and much sooner than i'd expected. i remember her talking about going to her dad's house before they put him in the nursing home, and her telling these horror stories about the years' worth of old national geographic, piled in waist high stack along the walls. my mom's house is getting close to this. so, i am left feeling, again, like she's my grandmother, and not my mom, because i don't think about my mom as being this addled pack rat, wearing pajamas all day long. nnow, i'm the frustrated mother and she's the kid, just finding her way. or, i'm the exasperated middle-aged child to her deteriorating elderly parent. again, i assumed this would happen at some point, but i imagined more time with her being Her.

i miss having the mom i knew. i miss her caring about what was going on with me without being reminded to. i miss her sharing wisdom during times of trouble. i miss her kicking my ass, and i miss having her to lean on. i just miss the mom that i was close to. i have really been clutching to the doctors having told us that this would pass, and i am tired of waiting, and i want her back - at least some.

so, i think it's pretty normal for me to be mad. it's normal for me to be sad, and to be grieving the loss of my old relationship with her. i don't think it's unhealthy for me to gripe a little bit about my circumstances. i don't need to be reminded that it's hard for her, or offered perspective about reasons why she is the way she is now. i already know. usually, i just want to vent. sometimes i need to vent the anger, so i can get down to the sadness underneath.

back to being up here.

i spent the first 30 mins up here wandering around the property with her. then we had a conversation about her treatment, in which it became clear that, despite our numerous conversations about her treatment options, and the long talk we had yesterday about it, she was confused about which treatment options we were pursuing. that's fucking scary. i had to explain ALL the options over again, and explain why we had chosen the one we did, TOGETHER, yesterday. luckily she trusts me and my memory, or we'd be in for some problems.

then i had a conversation with her about getting off her ass to do physical therapy. she has gained a lot of weight since all this started (roughly last november) and she has nothing but mean things to say about herself, but she's not doing anything about it. she's not as stable on her feet as she was pre-surgery, so we thought it would be good to get her in with someone who could help with building her strength slowly, focusing on her wimpy left side. then she could get back to a point where she could go for walks by herself, or go to gentle yoga classes and stuff. we had a conversation about that a few month ago and nothing has happened with it, so i am making it happen.

we also talked about doing some occupational therapy, to help with her cognitive smooshiness. i am not comfortable with the hours spent staring at her hands, thinking. i am not comfortable with the fog she lives in. i know it's from the major trauma her brain experienced in a short period of time (2 brain surgeries in 20 days + radiation = whoa), and it's totally understandable, and i think we could probably doing more to encourage her brain to start fixing itself. she's interested, so i am working on that, too.

then i gave her another 'what the fuck are you doing with you life? how about you get out of your pajamas and live? it's not time for you to be acting like a 90 year old yet, so let's not get ahead of ourselves.' talk. she smells like an old person now. she moves and talks and thinks like an old person, and it's totally unnecessary. again, i told her that if she wants to go gently into that good night then i'll accept that, but not unless she chooses it. otherwise, i'm going to drag her out and make her get off her duff.

i'll be up here a few nights a week from now on, so i'll be in a good position to harass her into doing things she would otherwise let slide.

i cleared off the catalogs and charity requests for donations on the kitchen table, filling one paper shopping bag. i left a weensy little stack of stuff for her to check out (which, if left to her devices, she will never check out).

then i hit her office. it's not as bad as i thought it would be, which is a very pleasant surprise. i spent another chunk of time digging through those piles. again, filled a paper shopping bag with requests for donations and catalogs and other bullshit. now the piles are manageable sizes.

i am going to pay off her credit cards this week. we'll take one of them out of commission and save it for emergencies, and then we'll call and get the credit limit lowered for the remaining one. there is no earthly reason for her to have a $7000 credit limit on her cards. she's on a fixed income, for crying out loud. she shouldn't be catalog shopping, or buying random shit online. then, we'll get her set up with a bill paying service, so she doesn't let things get out of control. i found a few overdue bills hiding in the piles, but she says she's up to date now. i would feel much better if she wasn't doing it herself anymore.

so, it's with a sense of relief that my mom and allen have welcomed The Warden back into their home. no pile will go unexamined, no bill unpaid, no counter uncleaned.

i am exhausted, sad, scared...pretty much all the unpleasant emotions are there. but also, i am glad i am able to do this. i am very thankful she's not resistant to my meddling.

next time, i'm bringing my recorder up, and i'm going to start interviewing her about her life and recording it. i firmly believe that everyone has an interesting life story, but i'd be willing to bet that most people will agree that my mom has lived a remarkably interesting life. i would love to have a record of her thoughts about her life, and, if she doesn't live to play a big role in the life/lives of my kid/s, i'd like to have some way for them to get to know her.

in fun, superficial news, i bought a sweet-ass hat.
with my gorgeous new hair color (thanks lauren!) all the magazines say i am supposed to wear a hat if i am in the sun for very long, so my hair doesn't turn "brassy."

i almost bought some stuff i don't really need right now at sephora, but i came to my senses.

the pest inspection on the house was today, and shannon brought my dad with him to it. shannon is kinda 'whatevs' about having brought my dad, but i thought it was awesome and i was really moved that they had done it together, without me. shannon said my dad really liked the house, and agreed that it was the perfect starter house, with nothing major in need of repair and a simple construction so shannon can so most things himself. the pest inspection was like the home inspection - plenty of things that can be done, but no fires that need to be put out.

we'll have an interesting time trying to cram all our worldly possessions into a smaller sized place. here are some pictures of it. also, some pictures of my new blonder hair! it sorta looks like i have the same haircut as victoria beckham in one of them, but it's really back in a ponytail. don't worry.

being a chick is silly.

Current mood: mellow

i got dressed up last night to go out for a friend's birthday in the city.
she's in a sketch comedy troupe (killing my lobster - funny!) and they performed at a comedy night at a.c.t., along with a few stand up comedians. the last comedian fucking sucked and i would have pelted him with trash if i could have. he seemed like a total ass-face. he looked vaguely familiar to me, and it turned out it was because he used to work on the morning show on channel 2 (whatever the local fox affiliate it.) he felt like that made him a celebrity, but he was mistaken. i couldn't care less about him.

(p.s. it's buggative when people say that they 'could care less' because, like misusing the word 'literally', when you use it wrong, you're actually saying exactly the opposite of what you're intending. david cross has a funny thingie about 'literally' and it's misuse. funny! anyway.)

we then went to some shitty bar up the street from the theatre. the bar was so fucking lame. so much so. the drinks were lame, the people were even lamer and there was a shitty blues-hammer-esque bar band that made me sad. also making me sad were a very drunk couple who slow danced/lambada-ed to most of the songs, and attempted to eat each other's faces and remove each other's clothing. it was heinous and depressing.

being a girl is so weird. i mean, i got dressed up, specifically to look 'hot' but i have a boyfriend who wasn't with me, so i am not on the hunt, so to speak. so, who the fuck am i dressing hot for? all the guys who i have no interest in humping? why bother? why don't i just wear my pajamas, then?

i accidentally made eye contact with some guy. filled with dread, i desperately looked to both sides of me to see if i could quickly join a conversation, but i wasn't fast enough and everyone was leaning away from me. basically, i was like a lamb to the slaughter. he zeroed in on me, circling, and then swooped. it was a bummer.

i am very careful to be friendly and polite, but i am not down with the pointless chatting with random bar guys.

i chatted with him for a few seconds and then, very politely and not-at-all snottily, i told him that i have a boyfriend and i am not really interested. i informed him that he was welcome to walk away, rather than invest time in something that won't bear dividends. being a bar guy takes some time and some energy investment, and i would think that it would be nice to be able to go try with someone else, rather than take time to 'get some' from me, when i know it's not going to happen.

so, whatever, i told him, in a non-jerky way. (seriously, i know that i can be.... caustic... from time to time, and i have been a total twat to hapless bar guys in past lives, but i was really nice and not laughy or teasey.) and, as sometimes happens with this approach, the guy, for some reason, feels like he can't admit that he was just coming over to hit on you, so he pretends that he just wants to chat. um... duh.

do i look retarded? because that is the stupidest, least truthful thing i have ever heard. yeah, because we're going to become good friends, weird bar guy, and you and me and my boyfriend are all going to hang out, right? yeah, no. dude, just walk away.

but no. 'oh, in my country, we don't just talk to people because we want to sleep with them. if we see someone in a pub who looks interesting we'll just talk to them.' (oh, he was from england.) anyway, again, i smell a rat, bar guy. i was under the impression that hitting on girls who dropped their 'don't talk to me' cloaking devices was pretty universal. maybe it's just an american thing... yeah, no.

i just wanted to push him away. dude, leave me alone. i don't care about you. i am sure you have lovely things in yourself, and some person will be very glad to find you, both as a friend and a boyfriend, but i am not that person. i don't really give a shit. please leave me alone.

so, he waited what he felt was an acceptable length of time to not look like a sleazy bar guy jerk, which he was anyway, and then slunk away. finally.

i know being a guy is tough, and being expected to 'cold call' chicks all the time must be really scary and annoying and tiring. i understand that.

being a girl is weird and tough, too, though. i mean, was i asking for it dressed like that? i think straight people need a rocker rag/bandana code language like our gay friends.

pink ribbon in my hair means i have a boyfriend and am just along for the ride.
blue ribbon means i'm a cheating-ass bitch, so bring it on.
white ribbon means i'm single and i like kittens.
yellow ribbon means i want you to pee on me.
or something. just some ideas.

that would make things so much easier for everyone involved.

Currently listening :
Arular
By M.I.A.
Release date: By 22 March, 2005

physical pain.

Current mood: determined

monday i went way overboard on lunges and squats at the gym. i could tell as soon as i walked into the locker room that i was in trouble. my thighs felt all wobbly and i could barely make it across the street to my car.

yesterday morning, i had great difficulty getting in and out of my car, because of the muscle soreness. getting onto and off of the toilet was terribly challenging. walking downstairs was really embarrassing. even rolling over in bed was pretty tough.

also, i had really, really bad cramps yesterday, so i was just pretty much falling apart.

today, i am better, somewhat, on all fronts, though i am still pretty physically impaired with the leg-thing.

no gym today, because i can barely walk.

i'll gym tomorrow.

oh, also, there is a woman in my astronomy lab group who i want to kill.

and my job is still fucking rad. quitting resto is totally going to suck, because they're going to be bummed in a minorly abusive way, but my new job is so cool that it's worth it.

this movie, the one i said i'm watching, i watched it the other night. it wasn't great.

Currently watching :
I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
Release date: By 16 November, 2004