Besides not getting lost in Mission Valley any more, I fully intend to stop flipping out about my life until I have solid evidence that flipping out is, indeed, required.

I will also learn (eventually) that a quiet, briefly worded response doesn't indicate unhappiness or resentment, it indicates acceptance. Thanks to Kenny C. for that last hangup.

I have a wonderful, patient man who sees I'm having trouble, and waits until I figure out what's wrong and come talk to him, even if that means weathering me being wierdly moody and ignoring his driving directions. This may sound rather cold to some, waiting until I choose to talk rather than asking me what's wrong, but it works for me because until I know myself what's wrong, asking will only make me more frustrated with my own behaviour and result in more moodyness (and ignoring of driving directions). Oh, and the not asking only applies to the wierd moods, not the palpably upset moods.

So...it's still shitty February, and now it's raining to boot, but it's only February for 4 more days, then it's March, and my parents are visiting, and for me that's a good exciting thing, not something to be stressed over, because they easily entertain themselves following me around for whatever stuff I have to get done and we'll still have plenty of time to sit about talking, and for them to get to know Matt.

It's still shitty February but at least I'm not fruitcaking myself into spasms worrying about what happens while I'm sleeping.

I think my usually shitty January has transferred itself to a shitty February. Or maybe it's just winter all round, this whole quarter-year is one I generally get the blues through anyway.

Unfortunately it's just another bout of combining factors, none of which are anyone's fault (except maybe the BS at work) and all of which will go away in time, though not by my staring at them and willing them to *poof* dissapear. The biggest one currently seems to be the American idea that two weeks of vacation time for an entire year is more than enough to keep the workers rested and happy, thus leading to work hard, play hard and leaving rest and relaxation by the wayside, whimpering into it's mug of hot chocolate while trying to erect a broken deckchair.

Heh, just that little random image cheered me up. Probably because rest and relaxation was also wearing fuzzy slippers and one of those ridiculous beach hats that my Grandad used to wear for gardening.

One of these days I will stop getting lost in Mission Valley.

Maybe it would help if I remember whether I'm supposed to be going East or West though...

Somehow we shall continue to improve our fitness levels and decrease our weights... while I insist on making toffee-chip tollhouse cookies and keep thinking up new variations on cakes to make for everybody. Is it possible that I missed baking? Naw, not at all, I only used to bake a cake most weekends back home, and when I was at college I'd bake something almost every time I went home for the weekend.

However the theory seems to be holding true, I'm pretty sure I gained a little over christmas, but it could also have been leftover bloat from my momentary pregnancy turning into bloat from dehydration, flying and lots and lots and lots or French wine. I finally got up the courage to weight myself again last week, after an absence form the scales of almost two months, and found that I'd dropped either 5 or 10lb more than last time I checked (I can't remember the exact previous weight, but I know I hadn't broken a certin threshold yet). Either way, I know for a fact that this makes a total of just over 40lb lost in a year. 40lb of FAT, pure lard, that I have discarded, actually more than 40lb of lard has gone bye-bye, because I've built muscle-mass too.

So, hooray for whatever it is I'm doing now, and long may it continue. I'm liking this healthy feeling.

I keep feeling the need to sit down and write (or type) but I never seem to get around to doing it, or when I do, my mind alternates between completely blank and way too much stuff to make sense of.

I got carded for cigarettes for the first time in a while, probably something to do with having had most of my hair cut off, so now it's in a cropped curly/wavy messy but very stylish arrangement. Apparantly I look a great deal younger now. It's a little odd to realise that somewhere along the way I crossed the line into thinking of looking younger as a good thing, rather than an inconvenience.

It's near impossible to describe hairstyles beyond "short" vs "long" so: it's short, decidedly shorter than anything that could be called a "bob", but defintely not "cropped" or butch (thanks for that one Marc). I'm also having to fight an urge to make all kinds of silly references to my friend Bob, to whom I had to explain the meaning of the word "bob" in a hairdressing context.

Matt got all his furniture moved in and arranged in his new place, so he's now living about a block and a half away from me, and so is all his stuff. No more hour round-trip drives to pick up something forgotten at the other place. Coincidentally it's three months to the day since I started the move out of my last apartment. I can't believe it's been a quarter of a year since I moved onwards and upwards from the fourth floor to the almost-basement.

I've had a couple of reminders recently of what life was like for me a year ago, indeed, through the whole past year, all the ongoing changes; some gradual, some huge leaps that caught me by surprise weeks later when I realised how different everything had become, and yet how natural the new situation felt. Of course it's a great big plum pudding mix of external and internal changes: losing weight/gaining muscle, throwing out some long standing inhibitions that were way past their sell by date, gaining strengths, finding some good friends, moving into my own place...and I've lost verbal steam. I started talking guitar with Matt and misplaced my thread. Oh well. Time to get a shower.

Every time you see my apartment something has been moved or there's new furniture...

This can no longer happen, as my apartment is now officially full to capacity. Just right at the capacity level fortunately, not overflowing. I found a desk I liked, and that was an agreeable price too, and it fits perfectly. This also can be translated as "it only just fits", both are true. I'm not quite used to the new arrangement yet, there is a definite need for pictures of some variety on the walls now; the best thing is that the desk lamp has banished the slight lack of ambient light that was beginning to bother me. I'm not a fan of gloom.

Rainy day today, I'm very much voting in favour of nap-time, but unfortunately I have this thing called a job, so the nap will have to wait until this evening.

I'm hosting my first ever party on Saturday. Not a little gathering, but a real party, with a theme and everything. The theme is spreading the joys of traditional Christmas Pudding to the various international peoples of my lab. With the added bonus that Rohan was deprived of "chrissie pud" this last festive season, as he was in Wisconsin, and not Australia, so he gets his pudding fix.

Of course, this party will be held mostly on my patio, as the apartment is way too small to fit a dozen people comfortably enough to allow little luxieries such as sitting down, and movement.

Holy Flaming Brandy Batman, I'd better make a shopping list and go fill it. I was starting to dread this gathering, thinking "What have I DONE??" and imagining everybody being way too cramped and having nowhere to sit, the pudding being burnt and a small riot of hungry scientists demanding to be fed. Then I realised that they're all nice people, and even if the pudding is a disaster, we can all go for sushi along University Avenue as a substitute.

What a full weekend, I don't think I'll be able to get it all up here without boring everybody (including myself) to death. Many fun things are exceedingly tedious when recounted.

Suffice it to say that it was the best birthday weekend I can remember, without feeling like I was being made too much of a fuss of, which always ends up feeling somewhat superficial: "we're only here because it's your birthday and we have to..." There was much genial friendliness and even more aimless wandering about Baloboa Park. I got a nifty decorative lamp and a large blue and grey stoneware bowl and matching pitcher. I narrowly escaped being given a diamond ring too, but not in the context you'll assume I'm sure.

The weekends are getting better and better, I just need to work on the bits in between, the days commonly referred to as "work.