Category Archives: Life

Disappointment. And Mexican food!

Admissions

In which Wednesday is hump day, and it totally feels like it.

Yesterday, I did a bunch of exercises. Then I walked all over town. Today my glutes hurt.

isometrics

Last night, I went to GoHo (aka The Golden Horse) with Kit & Cat and had a marvelous time. They invited me backpacking with them sometime this summer, but only if I agree to carry the liquor.

Today I started reading American Gods for the One Book, One Twitter read-a-long.

1b1t

I packed my lunch into a bento box because I miss the whole cute bento lunch thing:

Bento #175: Gyoza

Just now, I received a lovely and polite email from Integratechs informing me that they hired someone else. I was the runner-up, apparently. (Or maybe I wasn’t and they just say that to everybody. Either way, being second-best is hardly a consolation when you’ve been out of work for half a year.)

Tonight, I intend to eat a burrito (aka Cinco de Mayo) and then go to open mic at Barnaby’s with TonyG (aka the Wolf) and Toni (aka Betty), where I intend to drink SEVERAL cocktails because I don’t have a goddamned JOB, people.

Tomorrow I’m going to think. A lot. About things. Here’s a list:

  • Should I move away? If so, where to?
  • Should I go back to school?
  • Why am I now the second choice rather than the first when I’m trying to get a job? Am I underqualified? Too old? Something else?
  • Is Walla Walla kicking me out again?
  • What about keeping one’s 87-year-old grandmother company? I’m single and childless, and she likes having me around. Isn’t that good enough? There’s a time-honored spinster tradition I wish to ruminate upon.
  • What do I want? I mean, really?
  • Does this mean I can’t see Amma this summer? Will I seriously have to wait until November to see Her?

I’m accustomed to being able to afford to see Mother every summer. I’m accustomed to having something to do. I’m accustomed to getting hired when I interview. I’m missing my old friends, the people with which I have actual history that goes back farther than a few months. I’m accustomed to knowing what to do next.

In other words, I feel poor, lazy, unemployable, lonely, and sad. Which sucks. Wait, I just got a text… Jules is gonna come get me! We’re going to eat Mexican food and drink margaritas and I shall endeavor to feel fortunate… at least until I feel drunk, that is. Excuse me now, please, while I put on some clothes.

Holy shit, guys. It actually works.

Health, , ,

In which even 10-day breaks don’t seem to lower the efficacy of these nifty little free programs.

Okay, so I told you I’m doing these online exercise thingies, right? Where you do, like, an “exhaustion test” (that’s some kind of sporty-person lingo, apparently) and compare your results with this little table which tells you how many reps to perform per set, and after not very long you can suddenly do, like, a surprising number of reps of these exercisey things?

You’re supposed to do the program three times a week, but in looking at my logs it appears that I skipped an entire week once. Which totally sounds like me.

And yet!, today I did 132 squats, 202 crunches, and 50 (modified, girl-style) push-ups!

Did you hear what I just said? Fifty fucking PUSH-UPS, people! You know how many reps I could do when I started? Six. Six push-ups. So we’re dealing here with demonstrable improvement in body strength.

Plus I did over two hundred sit-ups today! Soon I’ll be able to do them consecutively. How cool will that be?

Since there’s a chin-up bar all handy in the basement, I’ll probably be doing the Twenty-five Pullups program when it launches. The last time I checked, I was able to do a total of ZERO CONSECUTIVE PULL-UPS, because girls and the upper body strength? Not so much. We’ll see if that’s changed after the other stuff.

Here are the links again, if you want to check them out:

Two Hundred Squats
Two Hundred Situps
One Hundred Pushups

(There are matching iPhone apps, but they cost a couple bucks each.)

Anyway.

In other news, here’s a link to The Hacker’s Diet, because it’s both geeky and tota11y full of teh win.

Let it be known that I’m so non-sporty I don’t even have a blog category for exercise.

Some things that have happened.

Life, Whining

In which what? In which nothing, really, I just wanted to post something.

Tuesday, I went for a superfun walk with Curt. It was beautiful.

p_00243

There’s a slideshow here, if you have a hankering to see gorgeous eastern Washington in the spring.

Thursday, I had a wonderful interview. They told me at the time that they hoped to choose a candidate that very day; when I sent a ‘thank you for the lovely interview’ email the next morning I got a response informing me that they were considering a second round of interviews.

Just my luck; they have more than one really great candidate and they can’t decide. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I’m not getting any younger; if I don’t want to be a Walmart greeter within the next five years I really need to start collecting certifications and get some recent decent experience (i.e. no more fucking call centers). Maybe I should go back to school or something. (It’s not like I’m ever going to pay off my existing student loans; why not borrow more money, right?) I love school, and it’d be a hoot to be the experienced, hip old lady in class.

Not to mention it would keep me off the damn job market for awhile. Man, that would be great: to live like a college student again, borrowing money, studying things for their own sake, putting all the stress of ‘real life’ off into some nebulous future!

Man, college rocked.

I cut off about four inches of my hair with the kitchen shears on Saturday afternoon. I do this from time to time. The color is still pretty terrible, but it feels better now that it’s shorter. I haven’t been to a salon since I got laid off because I thought it would be prudent to reduce my expenses. My hair is half half-silver roots and half honey brown, and my nails and eyebrows look like crap. Glamorous!

Saturday evening I was supposed to meet with a someone about building his web site (I desperately need money if I’m going to see Mother this summer), but the meeting ended up being canceled. I hung out at the Peony for a few hours instead.

Today I watched the one and only Doctor Who episode featuring the eighth Doctor. It was totally cheesy and wonderful.

I made sushi for lunch.

Sushi maki, wakame salad, and miso soup

The Curse™ is due any damn minute now. I’m bloated. And weepy! I also want to eat everything in the world. Twice. I feel unhireable, old, and fat. All I want to do is complain about how I feel.

Aw, hell. That would be a waste of everyone’s time. I guess I should just find some chocolate and go watch some British television on Netflix instead.

Walla Walla, WA vs. Portland, OR

Decisions, , ,

In which I just checked my voice mail.

I have an interview tomorrow afternoon for a helpdesk position at a “medical facility” (probably a clinic, but maybe a hospital, I don’t know because an outsourced IT company is actually doing the hiring). The pay range is $10-$14 an hour, DOE, which is about right for Walla Walla. The two guys I’ve emailed with so far, though, seem like really great people.

The job posting suggested that people without degrees or certifications need not apply, but I applied anyway and they called me back because YOU DON’T GET COMPUTER SCIENCE DEGREES FOR TEN DOLLARS AN HOUR, not even with a high unemployment rate. Plus I also said I was studying for my CCNA, which is true in the sense that I looked at the books the other day, and false in the sense that I haven’t really studied in weeks because that shit is boring. I love networking, but they’ve somehow managed to jargonize and sterilize the material to such an extent that I can barely stay awake the length of a chapter.

It’s amazing. Really. Because I’ll read pretty much anything. I’ve read the back of my shampoo bottle at least two hundred times just because it’s there: THAT’S how boring the CCNA manual is.

But tomorrow’s helpdesk interview is not all that’s happening this week on the job front. Oh, no, it isn’t. A famous tea company also received an application from yours truly last week, and they’ve just called and left a voice mail asking if I can come in for an interview.

They’re in Tigard. Tigard, Oregon. Tigard, Oregon, the suburb of Portland. I haven’t called them back yet because my brain is broken. Sure, I could borrow my brother’s truck and zip over to PDX, crash the night at 80’s, and then pop over to Tigard and say hi to these lovely tea folks… but what if? What if what if what if? What if they actually hire me?

Li’l thought experiment here: could I actually manage a move to PDX? I don’t own a car, so I suppose I could just grab a Greyhound out there, crash with various friends, and take public transportation to work while looking for a roommate on the bulletin board at the local Whole Foods. I guess the dog could stay here with G’ma? (INSERT GUILT TRIP HERE OH GOD I LOVE YOU BINDU.) I could come back and get the rest of my shit later, once I make friends with people who have cars. Not that I have that much shit. Hell, I don’t even own dishes. Actually, I really don’t own enough shit to set up house. I have no furniture. No pots and pans. I’d probably need to rent a furnished room.

To take TriMet from, for example, 80’s house to the tea store in Tigard, though? SIXTY-SEVEN MINUTES, and it costs nearly five bucks. To be at work by 8, one would have to leave at 6:30, which means one would have to get up at… YE GODS. Early, yes, but not impossible.

I’d need enough money to survive until my first paycheck. I probably don’t have that, not since I’d be eating out and taking the bus for two to four weeks. Probably no way to borrow, either, since all my relatives are also broke.

So, um, yeah. It’s a definite maybe. Whatever that means.

Gawd. Should I call back? Or just pretend I never got the message? ARGH.

Epic Self-Discipline Fail Week

Admissions

In which I make an admission. And then we move on, people! Nothing to see here!

Okay, so, like, yeah: last week was an embarrassing series of over-indulgences. I overate, I partied all night (booze ain’t diet food, and neither was that nacho cheese served at afterhours), and yes, I smoked cigarettes too. (Not a lot, but even one is too many. Those fucking things.) I didn’t do my Friday exercises, and I think I did maybe twenty minutes of cardio the whole week.

I haven’t weighed yet today, but there’s no way I shed two pounds, not with that Chinese vegetarian M-1 platter debacle. And those chocolates! Oh, and the Pepsi I decided I couldn’t live without. And the late night snacks. Argh!

Today begins a new week, though. A week in which I’m back on the diet, exercise, and non-smoking wagon of Self Love. This is a lovely, shiny new week. A week of awesome!

This post has been brought to you by the letter SHAME and the number CONFESSION.

Healthy, sporty crap + some cursing for good measure.

Health

In which I talk about stuff that was never before interesting to me: exercising, dieting, and not smoking.

I haven’t smoked since March 29th – twelve days ago, now. I can breathe, my tongue isn’t covered with slime when I wake up in the morning, I don’t clear my throat elevendy-hundred times a day, and I’ve saved at least $50.

I now go most of the day without even thinking about smoking. I can hang out in a bar and not have a nic fit for significant stretches of time. (Last time I went to the Peony I thought about smoking thrice, and only distantly: upon entry and exit past the ashtray by the door, and when the guy sitting next to me go up to go out to smoke.) I can drive without having huge nic fits, and I don’t ache for a smoke after meals. I even managed to go to a gas station and air up a bike tire without wanting to go inside and pick up a pack of smokes!

Blah blah blah, you get it: I’m quit. I doubt I’ll ever smoke again. I’ve gotten through the sucky part of quitting, I’m already reaping the health benefits of being a non-smoker, and I think I have my mind in the right place because I honestly don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything. I don’t even want to smoke. Sure, I dug it while it lasted (ALL TWENTY-FIVE FUCKING YEARS WORTH OF IT), but it’s just not the fun awesome sexxxay thing it used to be. I’m over it.

I stood outside with the smokers between sets last weekend and wasn’t even miserable. I did have a couple of nic fits, but they were nothing a little 2mg Nicorette couldn’t handle. (Okay, that’s not true. I totally had a wicked mood swing and snapped at someone, but it passed and I DIDN’T SMOKE.)

In other news, my little strength-training program – crunches, squats, and pushups – is having interesting effects. I still don’t LIKE exercise, not really, but it doesn’t suck as much as it always has for the whole rest of my life. I attribute the change to being free for the first time ever of carbon monoxide poisoning. I always felt weak and icky and pissed off after exercise before, and thought all those annoying sporty people were fucking lying about their post-exercise clarity and peacefulness; now, while I’m not yet ready to say “I feel good” after a work out, at least I no longer actively feel bad.

Apparently I build muscle really fast, too. My new-found muscle tone just makes me hyper-aware of the uncomfortable and unnecessary amount of fat I have layered on top of it. I’ve decided I want to drop 20 pounds by the end of June. Since I’m freshly conversant with the whole suckage of self-denial, I went straight from quitting smoking into dieting. Instead of jonesing for smokes, I’ve switched to jonesing for food. Fucking YAY!

Plentiful, ubiquitous, high-fat, high-calorie, First World freakin’ food. It’s just so easy to get.

I’ll tell you what: quitting hard drugs is much easier than dieting, because hard drugs aren’t available EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PLACE YOU GO. It takes a strong will just to run a simple errand when you’re dieting because there’s a fast food joint every twenty feet. You can buy 1,350 kcals in a drive-thru for three bucks in four minutes! It’s insane!

Belonging to a rich culture in a rich era is a bitch, am I right? I’m not spending resources trying to obtain things… I’m spending resources trying to avoid them. It’s weird. I have to decide to make things harder; I can drive everywhere and buy cheap, high-fat, high-calorie food when I get there. Trying to walk places and eat well is like swimming against the current.

It’ll be interesting to see what sort of adaptations come out of this richness and sedentary-ness. Will we evolve digestive tracts that ignore most of the nutrients thrown into them? Will they shorten, so the food’s not in there as long?

Just a thought.

On Tuesday it was sunny. And also it rained.

Introspection

In which I spent all day in my fucking room.

I worked out, I surfed intensely and endlessly for nothing, I folded some laundry and didn’t fold some other laundry. Except I did go out – I walked my dog. Twice. She’s old. Like, 13 or 14 old. We didn’t walk very fast.

I made lentil soup, like, totally without a culinary net if you will, just throwing stuff in the pot willy-nilly. It came out fucking brilliant. So brilliant I put the recipe on the Internet. Soup is so my bitch. I obsessed about the food I didn’t eat. Dieting is like a form of voluntary insanity. I used to think it required discipline but now I think that you just have to go fucking nuts to not eat all the awesome food you have access to. The body just wants to eat good stuff all the time. It’s hard-wired to eat good stuff all the time. It’s like it wants to make up for the past ten thousand years of not having constant 24/7 access to chile rellenos and walnuts and falafel pitas and goat’s milk fucking brie.

I didn’t really think much about getting a job, but there was like this sort of sub-thought pulse in my head that implied over and over like a mantra that I ought to be doing something with myself, as if it were in any way possible to be both alive and not doing anything. Pshaw. I mean, like, my best unemployed friend, the drummer in my band? Even he got a fucking job this week. People have jobs. Or jobs have people. Either way, at least a job provides fodder: one can always either bitch about work or fume about not being able to bitch about work. Did you dig that awesome colon back there? I totally use punctuation like an employed person, don’t you think?

Thing is, I don’t want a job. I want income. I feel like this is a riddle I must solve and I suck at riddles so I just feel lazy and common about it. I have all this time right now and I should be producing something awesome but I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what that something is. Maybe this life of mine is creatively barren. I can’t gestate anything bigger than 3000 words at a time but if you give me nine years I can give you a blog chockablock full of unrelated styles and aborted directions totally full of the win. Oh yes I can. Just call me in 2019! You have my number.

Every time G’ma leaves the house she turns the kitchen radio on to this easy listening jazz station out of the Tricities and holy fuck I’m sure he’s a nice guy but Kenny G is the worst sax player of all time and I cannot figure out how he ever got famous. Was it the hair? Because I really think that the prettier you are, the more likely the world is to forgive you for being juuuuuust slightly less good than you fucking ought to be at blowing that shiny horn. In addition there’s a new Simply Red song built on top of Hall & Oates’ I Can’t Go For That and both times I’ve heard it I have felt weird, like the 80’s were riding a bicycle over my musical grave.

The guy at the Zen lecture I went to last Friday told us to listen, to listen intently and with our whole selves, as if to hear a pin drop. He didn’t have any pins but we listened anyway.

This entry was an exercise in writing somewhat like this guy.

Happy, positive, healthy DRIVEL.

Health, Life

In which I’m obsessed with age-appropriate things: food, weight, and exercise. Gawd.

I rewarded myself for a week of smoke-free living by buying some groovy skins from DecalGirl. I found a 30% off code so I got three: one for my netbook, one for my cell phone, and a new one for the Kindle. I cannot wait for them to arrive! Squee!

Yes. I just said squee about expensive, fairly useless pieces of sticky vinyl. Cut the irony with a knife!

After seeing a picture of myself on Facebook from last Saturday’s gig (I had three chins), I decided it would be appropriate to add dieting to my health and exercise thing. My goal is to shed around twenty pounds by the end of June. I figure I can do two pounds a week; we’ll see if that’s true. I’m using the distressingly upbeat, cute, and cheerful SparkPeople web site to track all my weight loss deets.

Today’s breakfast (egg and cheese on toast with tea) was 391 calories. Lunch was avocado maki with miso and came in at around 400 calories. Check out the cuteness:

I made you some avocado maki, but I eated it.

No, the image is not reversed. I’m left-handed, so my utensils always point off to the left like that.

This leaves me with five or six hundred calories left for dinner (which is still TBD because I haven’t gone shopping yet). I’ll probably eat refried beans and cheese or something similarly protein-y and fiber-y.

I did 109 squats today, 137 crunches, and 25 push-ups. I still don’t enjoy exercise for its own sake; this is entirely a results-focused endeavor. Bah.

My God, this is a boring entry! I’m sorry. (Keef told me to write a post about social networking. Maybe I’ll do just that, to see if my mind still works.)

There’s a new Monday Morning Mix here.

In other news, an edited-for-print version of this post will be in the local paper tomorrow.

Um, yeah.

Anyway.

TGIF. Because my work week is so exhausting!

Health

In which I’m being very good and deserve lots of presents.

I haven’t had a cigarette in five days.

When I go out at night and everyone steps outside to smoke, I have a 4mg nicotine lozenge. Most of the rest of the time, I just ride it out.

The NRT literature suggests that I ingest a steady-but-decreasing amount of nicotine, but my intake has always been uneven and I don’t want to take all that nicotine when I normally wouldn’t be taking it in the first place. So this approach, this crisis-management approach, it’s working for me. Quitting is far more about the head space than about the nicotine, anyway.

Today I did 121 sit-ups and 18 push-ups. Shortly I’ll be doing 110 squats. (My ass is totally gonna hurt.)

This evening I’m going to see a lecture on Zen Buddhism at Whitman college with my friend Lannie. After that I’ll probably go see Feedback play at Barnaby’s and get my dance on.

Tomorrow night I’ll be joining Coyote Kings at Ice Harbor Brewing in the Tri-cities for the UnTapped Blues Festival launch party. Yay!

I don’t have a job, but I don’t really care about that beyond desiring more income to spend on plane tickets. I don’t really have a life plan, but I do have friends, clear lungs, a roof over my head, and a gig tomorrow night!

On reading, in an establishment meant for drinking.

Life

In which I complain. Again!

You know what’s weird?

Sometimes I go to my favorite bar, order a drink, and stick my nose in a book.

I know, right?

I have, over the years, had people pick fights with me while I read in a bar. I’ve had people physically take my book away from me until the bartender told them to give it back. I’ve had to change seats to avoid getting picked on. People even say mean things to me when I’m reading.

Last week, for instance, when I was at the Peony (reading Mountains Beyond Mountains, an AMAZING book that you must all read IMMEDIATELY), someone actually said me, “I hate that. I hate that you’re reading! It’s stupid that you’re reading.”

You HATE that I’m READING? Can I get a WTF, here?

But, for all that, overt harassment is statistically rare. More people ignore me than mess with me. The thing that bugs me the most is the subtle harassment, invariably in the form of the following question:

“Whatcha readin’?”

Oh, GOD.

Continue reading On reading, in an establishment meant for drinking. →