Thursday, August 28, 2003
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
Matt leaves for Japan on Friday morning. He'll be gone two weeks, two weekends apart as he counts it. One of which will be taken up by travelling and working for him.
This weekend I'm distracting myself by going up to LA to visit Granny, and then I have to work for about 4 or 5 hours on Sunday afternoon. This kinda sucks, but it's distraction from an empty apartment, and it also makes up for my going out of town during the critical grant application crunch time. Besides mimicking Matt's schedule of travelling on Friday and Saturday, followed by setting up the classroom on Sunday.
I don't think the weekends are going to be so bad, you can go do stuff on weekends, it's the mornings and evenings that will feel very empty. Grrrr, must stop being whiney.
Hurry up September 6th, I can distract myself from him going away by looking forwardto his return.
This weekend I'm distracting myself by going up to LA to visit Granny, and then I have to work for about 4 or 5 hours on Sunday afternoon. This kinda sucks, but it's distraction from an empty apartment, and it also makes up for my going out of town during the critical grant application crunch time. Besides mimicking Matt's schedule of travelling on Friday and Saturday, followed by setting up the classroom on Sunday.
I don't think the weekends are going to be so bad, you can go do stuff on weekends, it's the mornings and evenings that will feel very empty. Grrrr, must stop being whiney.
Hurry up September 6th, I can distract myself from him going away by looking forwardto his return.
Saturday, August 16, 2003
We're both beginning to realise that maybe we need to point out to those we've announced "We're getting handfasted" to, that this also translates as "We're engaged". Even the ones who know that handfasting is an alternative form of wedding ceremony don't seem to carry this knowledge through to mentally connecting it with other weddingy things. Two people haven't responded at all to the egreeting announcing our intent to be handfasted next August, one of whom probably has no idea what the word means. Monica was grossly dissappointed when I told her that although it's going to be different, there won't be any sacrificing of pigs and smearing each other with blood.
Meanwhile, I wonder how long it will take Aunt Pat to notice the ring when I go up to LA next weekend? It feels somewhat odd to announce an engagement, we've both felt ourselves on the path to marriage for a while, the only main difference now is there's a ring. Nevertheless we will have to call around the important family members and announce our intentions, deflecting any inquiries as to when, where and how.
Meanwhile, I wonder how long it will take Aunt Pat to notice the ring when I go up to LA next weekend? It feels somewhat odd to announce an engagement, we've both felt ourselves on the path to marriage for a while, the only main difference now is there's a ring. Nevertheless we will have to call around the important family members and announce our intentions, deflecting any inquiries as to when, where and how.
Friday, August 15, 2003
The Diamond Debacle
The title comes from a comment Matt made last night when we were standing in Zales [>] ruling out rings because they didn't cost enough...
Yes you did read that correctly. No, we weren't targeting the one month's income (or two month's, or whatever it is) rule for an engagement ring, we were trying to make use of a token he had from a previous relationship. About 6 years ago, he had just arrived in San Diego, was stationed on a boat at the 32nd St Base, and planning a future union with a girl he'd met in A-School, who was stationed elsewhere. So he bought a wedding set, a diamond ring and an "enhancer" to nest around it and act as a wedding band. Life intervened, the engagment ring never met it's intended wearer, and Matt was left stuck with a very non liquid asset of $1100 in a teeny little jewelry box.
We got the idea of attepting to trade it in somehow for a ring for me, both of us thinking that Zales would offer us some percentage of the original value of the set. Nope. Zales' buy-back policy is very explicit: they will buy back any diamond purchase for the original price paid (not including taxes)...but only if this amount is used towards a purchase at least double the value of the trade in. It also has to be a single item, one ring, one necklace, one set of earrings, not a bunch of stuff adding up to the magic number. Meaning, to trade in this set, he'd have to shell out an additional grand, and I'd be walking around with two thousand dollars on my finger.
I understand that for many women this would not be a problem. "Hurrah, he has no choice but to get me that trillion-cut 1/2 carat platinum number I've had my eye on since I turned 16!" I am most emphatically not that girl. I like sparkly things, but I don't have any fondness for large pricetags. Nor do I want an expensive gift from someone who didn't want to spend that amount of money. To be honest, when it seemed that the only way he'd be able to reclaim the value of the ring set was to spend (waste) an additional thousand, I felt sick. It seemed so unfair that he couldn't redeem it's value and rid himself of an unhappy memento. Not to mention the completely shallow fact that I want a sapphire, dammit, not a plain (but immensely sparkly) solitaire diamond, and sapphires are nowhere near as costly, and are not generally set with large diamonds to bump up the price.
Have I ever mentioned that I am not fond of fine jewelry shopping [>]?
Then inspiration struck: the solitaire and enhancer were seperate items, they didn't come as a set. So why not trade in the less expensive part and worry about reselling the solitaire elswhere? This took the target pricetag down from approximately $2,000 to just under $400, and returned our collective blood pressures and heart rates so somewhere around normal.
I had already narrowed my selection to three rings, one I eliminated immediately because it looked too dinky on my hand, and besides, at $199 it was nowhere near the $400 benchmark we had to meet. This left two rings, which Matt and I had already had a hard time choosing between aesthetically, one had three ceylon sapphires in a row, with teeny round diamonds between them, it looked well proportioned on my hand and was exceedingly sparkly due to the alternation between blue and bright white faceted stones. Pricetag: $299. The other had a significantly larger single ceylon sapphire, with three small round diamond on either side, also well proportioned for my hand and exceedingly sparkly, though it flashed less when I moved my hand side to side. Pricetag: $399.
This brings us to point at which I started this narritive. "Well...I think I prefer that one very slightly, but it just doesn't cost enough...so I suppose we'll go for the $399 one?" Not something I thought I'd ever hear myself say, especially not in a jewelry store.
Problem solved. I've got my sapphire (I have no idea how I got so fixated on a sapphire, I must have been a gem-hoarding pirate in a past life), Matt has offloaded part of the uncomfortable reminder of a past relationship, and Zales sucked an additional $200 out of a customer.
The Winning Candidate [>] is beautiful, I don't get to wear it today and sparkle at my coworkers because Matt is going to give it to me properly on our date tonight. Wonderful timing we have, we've managed to arrange things so that he can present my engagement ring to me on the romantic evening I planned as an early birthday event for him!
We are going to try selling the leftover solitaire on eBay, if anyone's in the market for an engagement ring it's square cut, 0.24 carats, set in a 14k yellow gold size 4 band... Offers around $800 please. We're willing to bargain, but only if you buy us dinner first.
The title comes from a comment Matt made last night when we were standing in Zales [>] ruling out rings because they didn't cost enough...
Yes you did read that correctly. No, we weren't targeting the one month's income (or two month's, or whatever it is) rule for an engagement ring, we were trying to make use of a token he had from a previous relationship. About 6 years ago, he had just arrived in San Diego, was stationed on a boat at the 32nd St Base, and planning a future union with a girl he'd met in A-School, who was stationed elsewhere. So he bought a wedding set, a diamond ring and an "enhancer" to nest around it and act as a wedding band. Life intervened, the engagment ring never met it's intended wearer, and Matt was left stuck with a very non liquid asset of $1100 in a teeny little jewelry box.
We got the idea of attepting to trade it in somehow for a ring for me, both of us thinking that Zales would offer us some percentage of the original value of the set. Nope. Zales' buy-back policy is very explicit: they will buy back any diamond purchase for the original price paid (not including taxes)...but only if this amount is used towards a purchase at least double the value of the trade in. It also has to be a single item, one ring, one necklace, one set of earrings, not a bunch of stuff adding up to the magic number. Meaning, to trade in this set, he'd have to shell out an additional grand, and I'd be walking around with two thousand dollars on my finger.
I understand that for many women this would not be a problem. "Hurrah, he has no choice but to get me that trillion-cut 1/2 carat platinum number I've had my eye on since I turned 16!" I am most emphatically not that girl. I like sparkly things, but I don't have any fondness for large pricetags. Nor do I want an expensive gift from someone who didn't want to spend that amount of money. To be honest, when it seemed that the only way he'd be able to reclaim the value of the ring set was to spend (waste) an additional thousand, I felt sick. It seemed so unfair that he couldn't redeem it's value and rid himself of an unhappy memento. Not to mention the completely shallow fact that I want a sapphire, dammit, not a plain (but immensely sparkly) solitaire diamond, and sapphires are nowhere near as costly, and are not generally set with large diamonds to bump up the price.
Have I ever mentioned that I am not fond of fine jewelry shopping [>]?
Then inspiration struck: the solitaire and enhancer were seperate items, they didn't come as a set. So why not trade in the less expensive part and worry about reselling the solitaire elswhere? This took the target pricetag down from approximately $2,000 to just under $400, and returned our collective blood pressures and heart rates so somewhere around normal.
I had already narrowed my selection to three rings, one I eliminated immediately because it looked too dinky on my hand, and besides, at $199 it was nowhere near the $400 benchmark we had to meet. This left two rings, which Matt and I had already had a hard time choosing between aesthetically, one had three ceylon sapphires in a row, with teeny round diamonds between them, it looked well proportioned on my hand and was exceedingly sparkly due to the alternation between blue and bright white faceted stones. Pricetag: $299. The other had a significantly larger single ceylon sapphire, with three small round diamond on either side, also well proportioned for my hand and exceedingly sparkly, though it flashed less when I moved my hand side to side. Pricetag: $399.
This brings us to point at which I started this narritive. "Well...I think I prefer that one very slightly, but it just doesn't cost enough...so I suppose we'll go for the $399 one?" Not something I thought I'd ever hear myself say, especially not in a jewelry store.
Problem solved. I've got my sapphire (I have no idea how I got so fixated on a sapphire, I must have been a gem-hoarding pirate in a past life), Matt has offloaded part of the uncomfortable reminder of a past relationship, and Zales sucked an additional $200 out of a customer.
The Winning Candidate [>] is beautiful, I don't get to wear it today and sparkle at my coworkers because Matt is going to give it to me properly on our date tonight. Wonderful timing we have, we've managed to arrange things so that he can present my engagement ring to me on the romantic evening I planned as an early birthday event for him!
We are going to try selling the leftover solitaire on eBay, if anyone's in the market for an engagement ring it's square cut, 0.24 carats, set in a 14k yellow gold size 4 band... Offers around $800 please. We're willing to bargain, but only if you buy us dinner first.
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Home again, home again jiggety-jig.
I've had my blog up for over two years now, quite a lot has changed in that time. It's odd to look back and remember how unhappy I was then, or perhaps troubled would be a better word. Knowing I'm still fundamentally the same person, but still so different, the largest difference seems to be that I'm more firm in my decisions now, stronger in my convictions. I don't go back on resolutions that I make to myself.
The return to work is going fairly smoothly, I took a sick day yesterday to allow my stuffed ears to attempt to return to normal, it worked pretty well.
Now I must go plate some neurons.
I've had my blog up for over two years now, quite a lot has changed in that time. It's odd to look back and remember how unhappy I was then, or perhaps troubled would be a better word. Knowing I'm still fundamentally the same person, but still so different, the largest difference seems to be that I'm more firm in my decisions now, stronger in my convictions. I don't go back on resolutions that I make to myself.
The return to work is going fairly smoothly, I took a sick day yesterday to allow my stuffed ears to attempt to return to normal, it worked pretty well.
Now I must go plate some neurons.
Sunday, August 03, 2003
In the face of planning a handfasting, my handfasting in fact, I'm beginning to realise that not only do I know nothing about planning an event with many people, and food, and a ceremony in the middle of it...but my only ideas so far about the actual ritual are that I like the idea of a headband with silver flowers in it, and I think I'd kind of like to be wearing a green dress.
I'm in trouble.
Most couples opt for a generic ceremony in their families chosen faith, or a courthouse, so the words spoken to cement their relationship are already mostly decided for them. Easy, but boring. We don't like boring, so we've decided to chose our own path and make a joining ritual that's entirely personal to us, not just personal vows, but an entire ceremony. We're pagans, and we evidently like to challenge ourselves. No familial expectations to work around, no worries about shocking grandma by invoking the elementals. Grandma isn't invited.
It's fantastic, and terrifying, I have so much to learn before we can even start working for real on the wordings for the ritual.
The other most unusual thing about this "wedding" is that it isn't about the certificate. In fact, legality isn't coming into it at all. We're doing this because we want to make a pledge to each other, and we want to do it our way. We are purposefully omitting the paperwork in fact. The legally binding version will come later, and Grandma will be invited to that one, so it'll be somewhat watered down in order to accomodate the catholic/baptist/atheist/agnostic/sceptic audience that is our family.
I just felt a pang of guilt that my parents are being left out of this. Even though they wouldn't really understand all of it, they'd still probably appreciate seeing something so important to me. I hope I'm not copping out by taking the easier route of keeping this to myself and promising that they'll be part of it all when we come to repeat the performance with full paperwork.
Anyway. There is going to be a lot of growing plans and wedding-related babble coming up. Along with my steep learning curve on the process of building a ritual all our own. Wish me luck!
Lord and Lady watch over us, keep us wise in our actions and kind in our words.
I'm in trouble.
Most couples opt for a generic ceremony in their families chosen faith, or a courthouse, so the words spoken to cement their relationship are already mostly decided for them. Easy, but boring. We don't like boring, so we've decided to chose our own path and make a joining ritual that's entirely personal to us, not just personal vows, but an entire ceremony. We're pagans, and we evidently like to challenge ourselves. No familial expectations to work around, no worries about shocking grandma by invoking the elementals. Grandma isn't invited.
It's fantastic, and terrifying, I have so much to learn before we can even start working for real on the wordings for the ritual.
The other most unusual thing about this "wedding" is that it isn't about the certificate. In fact, legality isn't coming into it at all. We're doing this because we want to make a pledge to each other, and we want to do it our way. We are purposefully omitting the paperwork in fact. The legally binding version will come later, and Grandma will be invited to that one, so it'll be somewhat watered down in order to accomodate the catholic/baptist/atheist/agnostic/sceptic audience that is our family.
I just felt a pang of guilt that my parents are being left out of this. Even though they wouldn't really understand all of it, they'd still probably appreciate seeing something so important to me. I hope I'm not copping out by taking the easier route of keeping this to myself and promising that they'll be part of it all when we come to repeat the performance with full paperwork.
Anyway. There is going to be a lot of growing plans and wedding-related babble coming up. Along with my steep learning curve on the process of building a ritual all our own. Wish me luck!
Lord and Lady watch over us, keep us wise in our actions and kind in our words.
Friday, August 01, 2003
Fresh Brain In Refrigerator
Oh goody! Just when I was wondering what I was going to have for lunch. Though I think I've made the "quick, I need to get Eliezer some mustard for that brain" joke often enough that Dianne and Aline might decide to stuff me into the -80C freezer if I try it again. Maybe not, I seem to have taken up the role of Chandler Bing in our lab.
The boys in the next room play pranks on people and maybe even deposit a banana skin or two under your windshield wiper, I make the sarcastic comments. Eliezer asks for the key to the methamphetamine cupboard because it's nearly the weekend...and it took me a few minutes to realise he was pulling my leg.
It's crunch time right now in the land of Experimental Neuropathology. At least in our little section of the kingdom it is: it's grant submission time. This is where Dianne sends off a bunch of preliminary data, and a short dissertaiton on the data, to the people with the greenbacks. In this case the NIH, which is the real ca-ching kind of funding. So Dianne is going crosseyed writing the grant and editing figures, and I'm praying all the last minute backup experiments go smoothly so we have a good comprehensive set of data points.
After Monday evening, pray is all I will be able to do to help them out, since Matt and I are leaving for PA at about 6am on Tuesday morning. I keep thinking of details of treatment for the three cell lines we have in culture that only I know about, and I'd better write them down somewhere so I don't come home to a bunch of mutated "stressed" endothelial cells with wierdo morphological traits that weren't there when I left. I'm torn between being glad I'm out of the pressure fora week, and feeling like a deserter. I know we've got most of the data already lined up, we're on schedule, because I gave a couple of months warning of my absence.
This is a big turnaround from my previous job, I had a constant feeling of need to escape from there, largely because I wasn't kept in the loop as to what we were doing and why, it was assumed either that I knew already, or that I didn't need to know. Even when we're pulling out all the stops here we still find the time to go out for a lab lunch, followed by a couple of hours at the Nordstrom sale...my bosses are still nice people when under pressure. This is a rare thing.
I want to stick around here, I like the feeling of being intellectually involved in my work, and I'm hoping that I may even be able to do a Master's in this field. Some day. Right now I have more immediate things to think about, like how not to melt in the PA humidity, and the new project Matt and I began formulating a few days ago. We're planning a handfasting this time next year.
Oh goody! Just when I was wondering what I was going to have for lunch. Though I think I've made the "quick, I need to get Eliezer some mustard for that brain" joke often enough that Dianne and Aline might decide to stuff me into the -80C freezer if I try it again. Maybe not, I seem to have taken up the role of Chandler Bing in our lab.
The boys in the next room play pranks on people and maybe even deposit a banana skin or two under your windshield wiper, I make the sarcastic comments. Eliezer asks for the key to the methamphetamine cupboard because it's nearly the weekend...and it took me a few minutes to realise he was pulling my leg.
It's crunch time right now in the land of Experimental Neuropathology. At least in our little section of the kingdom it is: it's grant submission time. This is where Dianne sends off a bunch of preliminary data, and a short dissertaiton on the data, to the people with the greenbacks. In this case the NIH, which is the real ca-ching kind of funding. So Dianne is going crosseyed writing the grant and editing figures, and I'm praying all the last minute backup experiments go smoothly so we have a good comprehensive set of data points.
After Monday evening, pray is all I will be able to do to help them out, since Matt and I are leaving for PA at about 6am on Tuesday morning. I keep thinking of details of treatment for the three cell lines we have in culture that only I know about, and I'd better write them down somewhere so I don't come home to a bunch of mutated "stressed" endothelial cells with wierdo morphological traits that weren't there when I left. I'm torn between being glad I'm out of the pressure fora week, and feeling like a deserter. I know we've got most of the data already lined up, we're on schedule, because I gave a couple of months warning of my absence.
This is a big turnaround from my previous job, I had a constant feeling of need to escape from there, largely because I wasn't kept in the loop as to what we were doing and why, it was assumed either that I knew already, or that I didn't need to know. Even when we're pulling out all the stops here we still find the time to go out for a lab lunch, followed by a couple of hours at the Nordstrom sale...my bosses are still nice people when under pressure. This is a rare thing.
I want to stick around here, I like the feeling of being intellectually involved in my work, and I'm hoping that I may even be able to do a Master's in this field. Some day. Right now I have more immediate things to think about, like how not to melt in the PA humidity, and the new project Matt and I began formulating a few days ago. We're planning a handfasting this time next year.
Friday, July 18, 2003
I wonder how much of a shock to my system having real food for breakfast and lunch is going to be. Matt and I have agreed that slimfast shakes were a handy thing for a while, but it's definitely not working as a long term way to fuel oneself. We've both beeen increasingly lethargic, and neither of us is losing weight any more. I suspect we may have both been skimping on the neccesary calories to support the current activity level and managed to lower our metabolisms. Yay us!
In an attempt to fix this metabolic empass I have rejoined eDiets, since it was a great tool for me before. My attempt to follow one of the new trendy brand name diets they now offer lasted about 24 hours. The initial mission statement was to keep the diet closer to what hunter-gatherers would have eaten (IE, what we evolved eating, and what our systems are designed to digest most efficciently). However, this didn't really lead me to expect to be supplementing my diet by mixing "ZonePerfect Protein Powder" into my porridge, or lunching on "ZonePerfect Nutrition Bars". And the concept of buying a gallon (or whatever) of liquid egg whites just turned my stomach.
In short, upon seeing what the diet really consisted of I decided it was pretty hokey and full of BS. I want my diet to be one more suited to my body chemistry, and closer to nature...I don't want to be buying supplements and heavily processed food. The whole point is to get away from pre-prepared nobrainer concoctions. Nor do I want to have an eating plan that would require me to explain the limitations to anyone generous enough to offer to cook for me. Though it's never bothered me to attempt to accomodate other people's foodish foibles.
I've been floating along letting my eating habits form themselves the past year, and I'm impressed that it hasn't lead to regaining the weight I had from my bout of depression. Now it's time to conciously tweak things, especially since my resolve to harden my body into a lean, mean kicking machine has been somewhat delayed by my new mild asthma, and bruising my ribs on a large rock in Kern River. More veggies will help me feel better in my own skin too. Unfortunately, as I type this I'm sitting here craving a large helping of tater tots, but I'll get over that.
In an attempt to fix this metabolic empass I have rejoined eDiets, since it was a great tool for me before. My attempt to follow one of the new trendy brand name diets they now offer lasted about 24 hours. The initial mission statement was to keep the diet closer to what hunter-gatherers would have eaten (IE, what we evolved eating, and what our systems are designed to digest most efficciently). However, this didn't really lead me to expect to be supplementing my diet by mixing "ZonePerfect Protein Powder" into my porridge, or lunching on "ZonePerfect Nutrition Bars". And the concept of buying a gallon (or whatever) of liquid egg whites just turned my stomach.
In short, upon seeing what the diet really consisted of I decided it was pretty hokey and full of BS. I want my diet to be one more suited to my body chemistry, and closer to nature...I don't want to be buying supplements and heavily processed food. The whole point is to get away from pre-prepared nobrainer concoctions. Nor do I want to have an eating plan that would require me to explain the limitations to anyone generous enough to offer to cook for me. Though it's never bothered me to attempt to accomodate other people's foodish foibles.
I've been floating along letting my eating habits form themselves the past year, and I'm impressed that it hasn't lead to regaining the weight I had from my bout of depression. Now it's time to conciously tweak things, especially since my resolve to harden my body into a lean, mean kicking machine has been somewhat delayed by my new mild asthma, and bruising my ribs on a large rock in Kern River. More veggies will help me feel better in my own skin too. Unfortunately, as I type this I'm sitting here craving a large helping of tater tots, but I'll get over that.
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
You Might Be A Redneck If...
I've been mostly inactive at work recently. Very few experiments, lots of researching products and protocols, ordering reagents for new protocols, trying to figure out which line of microvascular endothelial cells to go with, arguing with Cell Signalling tech support to convince them that their antibody didn't work because it didn't work, not because we (specifically I) used it wrong. Trying out a fancy schmancy digital camera system which will enable us to get vastly more precise results...if I can get the sucker to WORK. It didn't help that I simulteneously trying out a new chemiluminescene reagent, one that requires far lower antibody concentrations than we use, so it didn't work either.
The only point of this is that it looks like I'm going to get to do more bench work again soon, and I'm glad, I don't like this desk job thing. Nor do I like training people, I'm not used to having to add someone else's "I can't find this antibody, where might it be?" to my own. That part will pass as the new associate finds her feet, and I'll get used to it as I've been here longer and find mine.
Now to justify my title.
You might be a redneck if you bring a gasoline-powered weed whacker on a camping trip.
You might be a redneck if you wear a cowboy hat with either an Iron Cross or a Confederate flag on the hatband.
You might be a redneck if you see a roadkill king snake as an opportunity to have an unusual meal and get a snakeskin hatband (for your cowboy hat) out of it as a bonus.
All of this was part of the Kern trip. Along with innertubing one day, followed by drinking at night, then hiking to a natural rock water-slide the next day, followed by drinking at night, followed by four guys (one-and-a-half rednecks and a whole halfwit) innertubing down the river by night wearing wetsuits and headlamps and being pursued by Park Rangers who were trying to enforce the river's curfew.
Who ever heard of a river having a curfew? Strange concept.
There's more...Shane threw vodka on the fire because his girlfriend wouldn't let him drink any more, the resulting fireball singed off a significant patch of leghair on both myself and Matt...Travis didn't have a whiny girlfriend with him this time, but still spent most of the time talking about a bunch of whiny girls he can't handle but just can't live without...Sharkie did a highly amusing impression of a dolphin having an orgasm (I have no idea how this came up in conversation)...Natalie threw twizzlers at people, and shoved a couple up Travis' nose for good luck...Sharkie's brother sat in his tent peeking out the zipper and sang the "meow mix" theme for no apparant reason...Shane and Sims rode a child-size motorcycle into town together at 2am and managed to get the 50cc engine to carry them at 35mph before they realised that neither of them could reach the brakes...
During all this Matt and I mostly sat back and watched with amusement. It would have been easy to get stressed out by all the chaos, but somehow it was just fun, because it wasn't happening to me, but around me. Plus there was messing about in the river and not worrying about the usual BS, that always makes a nice change.
The snake didn't get eaten in the end, Travis got bored with picking out the bones before cooking and gave up. He preserved the skin though.
I've been mostly inactive at work recently. Very few experiments, lots of researching products and protocols, ordering reagents for new protocols, trying to figure out which line of microvascular endothelial cells to go with, arguing with Cell Signalling tech support to convince them that their antibody didn't work because it didn't work, not because we (specifically I) used it wrong. Trying out a fancy schmancy digital camera system which will enable us to get vastly more precise results...if I can get the sucker to WORK. It didn't help that I simulteneously trying out a new chemiluminescene reagent, one that requires far lower antibody concentrations than we use, so it didn't work either.
The only point of this is that it looks like I'm going to get to do more bench work again soon, and I'm glad, I don't like this desk job thing. Nor do I like training people, I'm not used to having to add someone else's "I can't find this antibody, where might it be?" to my own. That part will pass as the new associate finds her feet, and I'll get used to it as I've been here longer and find mine.
Now to justify my title.
You might be a redneck if you bring a gasoline-powered weed whacker on a camping trip.
You might be a redneck if you wear a cowboy hat with either an Iron Cross or a Confederate flag on the hatband.
You might be a redneck if you see a roadkill king snake as an opportunity to have an unusual meal and get a snakeskin hatband (for your cowboy hat) out of it as a bonus.
All of this was part of the Kern trip. Along with innertubing one day, followed by drinking at night, then hiking to a natural rock water-slide the next day, followed by drinking at night, followed by four guys (one-and-a-half rednecks and a whole halfwit) innertubing down the river by night wearing wetsuits and headlamps and being pursued by Park Rangers who were trying to enforce the river's curfew.
Who ever heard of a river having a curfew? Strange concept.
There's more...Shane threw vodka on the fire because his girlfriend wouldn't let him drink any more, the resulting fireball singed off a significant patch of leghair on both myself and Matt...Travis didn't have a whiny girlfriend with him this time, but still spent most of the time talking about a bunch of whiny girls he can't handle but just can't live without...Sharkie did a highly amusing impression of a dolphin having an orgasm (I have no idea how this came up in conversation)...Natalie threw twizzlers at people, and shoved a couple up Travis' nose for good luck...Sharkie's brother sat in his tent peeking out the zipper and sang the "meow mix" theme for no apparant reason...Shane and Sims rode a child-size motorcycle into town together at 2am and managed to get the 50cc engine to carry them at 35mph before they realised that neither of them could reach the brakes...
During all this Matt and I mostly sat back and watched with amusement. It would have been easy to get stressed out by all the chaos, but somehow it was just fun, because it wasn't happening to me, but around me. Plus there was messing about in the river and not worrying about the usual BS, that always makes a nice change.
The snake didn't get eaten in the end, Travis got bored with picking out the bones before cooking and gave up. He preserved the skin though.
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
In the past 24 hours Matt and I have obtained: a case of Mike's Hard Lemonade, a dozen muffins, a bulk package of Claritin D antihistamine, a small canister of propane, a portable firepit/grill, and a large-ish tent...
Sounds like a party waiting to happen doesn't it? And yes, we are going camping this weekend, however did you guess? My second time on the annual Kern River trip. Matt also bought himself a headlamp. The kind people use for cave expoloration. He's planning to innertube down Kern river by moonlight. I declined joining in, mostly because I will never get warm again after dunking myself in the river at night. I rather shocked myself for having that reason spring to mind before the more obvious "I would rather be able to see when I'm about to hit a large pointy rock thank you".
On the general health side of things, I finished the course of antibiotics, just in case it ws some kind of infection, even though my lungs are clear. It's pretty apparant that I have some variety of asthma, which seems to have developed very recently. I do have the inflammation of the muscles in my chest too, probably from getting thwacked there during takedowns in karate, that certianly doesn't help my breathing any. But it isn't the sole problem: two or three times in the past few days I've had serious trouble catching my breath, having to pant for a few minutes when what I really want to do is take a big long breath...but it just won't happen. Once was during karate, which makes sense, but it's also been caused by getting anxious. I'm more familiar with the latter, I have a habit of almost stopping breathing when I'm really keyed up about something, and the release of that tension leads to panting for breath to make up the oxygen dept. I always figured it was a form of hyperventilation in response to anxiety, maybe it's asthma.
I don't know how common it is for people to develop this at my age, smoking certainly didn't help, it's extremely frustrating to me that this has become more of a problem after quitting. I never had this much of a problem until recently. It makes me mad, at myself for ever smoking, and in general because I don't want to have to deal with trying to get fit in the face of a respitory tract disorder. Getting fit is also a higher priority now because this being out of breath thing really sucks.
I am going to rant about it periodically until it's gone (or until I get over it), but for now I have ranted enough. I'm looking forward to the camping trip. Even if I will be carrying my inhaler in a ziplock bag as I scoot down the rapids on an innertube.
Sounds like a party waiting to happen doesn't it? And yes, we are going camping this weekend, however did you guess? My second time on the annual Kern River trip. Matt also bought himself a headlamp. The kind people use for cave expoloration. He's planning to innertube down Kern river by moonlight. I declined joining in, mostly because I will never get warm again after dunking myself in the river at night. I rather shocked myself for having that reason spring to mind before the more obvious "I would rather be able to see when I'm about to hit a large pointy rock thank you".
On the general health side of things, I finished the course of antibiotics, just in case it ws some kind of infection, even though my lungs are clear. It's pretty apparant that I have some variety of asthma, which seems to have developed very recently. I do have the inflammation of the muscles in my chest too, probably from getting thwacked there during takedowns in karate, that certianly doesn't help my breathing any. But it isn't the sole problem: two or three times in the past few days I've had serious trouble catching my breath, having to pant for a few minutes when what I really want to do is take a big long breath...but it just won't happen. Once was during karate, which makes sense, but it's also been caused by getting anxious. I'm more familiar with the latter, I have a habit of almost stopping breathing when I'm really keyed up about something, and the release of that tension leads to panting for breath to make up the oxygen dept. I always figured it was a form of hyperventilation in response to anxiety, maybe it's asthma.
I don't know how common it is for people to develop this at my age, smoking certainly didn't help, it's extremely frustrating to me that this has become more of a problem after quitting. I never had this much of a problem until recently. It makes me mad, at myself for ever smoking, and in general because I don't want to have to deal with trying to get fit in the face of a respitory tract disorder. Getting fit is also a higher priority now because this being out of breath thing really sucks.
I am going to rant about it periodically until it's gone (or until I get over it), but for now I have ranted enough. I'm looking forward to the camping trip. Even if I will be carrying my inhaler in a ziplock bag as I scoot down the rapids on an innertube.
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
Evidently I have inflamed connective tissue on my ribcage. There's a latin term, but I can't remember it. I have no clue how I got this injury, as the most common cause is being slapped by your seatbelt in a fenderbender. Just in case my constricted breathing isn't purely due to this, I've also been prescribed antibiotics and a steriod inhaler. Combined with my antihistamine I'm now on the most drugs simulteneously that I've ever been on! Oh! I should count my progesterone shot thingy too, that means five different medications. I'm such a druggy these days.
On a side note: never drink chammomile tea that has been stewing in a mug over the weekend, it tastes like sweaty socks and mould. Bleurgh.
On a side note: never drink chammomile tea that has been stewing in a mug over the weekend, it tastes like sweaty socks and mould. Bleurgh.
Monday, June 23, 2003
It's Very Good Jam
We made jam yesterday, 36oz of black cherry jam courtesy of Costco's bulk-buy fruit. Jam worthy of paying a Queen's Lady's Maid. Only every other day though. Yes that is a literary reference my dear, how very kind of you to notice.
I've been re-reading Alice In Wonderland, and Through The Looking-Glass; it's rather disconcerting to realise how much those two stories shaped my youthful internal monologue. Especially my tendency to scold myself in an upper-class accent, just like Alice. I found that I remembered almost every line verbatim, they're stored in my brain permanently, probably the result of having an excellent book on tape version of them, read by Alan Bennet. I was barely reading the book, more opening the door to the part of my memory where Mr Bennet's nasal voice resided, providing perfect inflections to the White Queen's assertion that it's always "jam tomorrow, and jam yesterday, but never jam today..." Because it's jam every other day you see, and today isn't any other day.
If anyone ever accuses me of creative circular logic, I can now point to Lewis Carroll for the reason. Just as I can lay my sick sense of humour at the door of Roald Dahl and Monty Python. I wish the Disney version of Alice had tried harder to carry accross the intelligent surreality of the book, and not just the random cartoonish characters. Alice is a permanent resident in my subconcious, bitchy little asides and all. Such a contrary little thing, but I suppose she can't help it.
Oh dear, I'm rambling in Carroll-ese, it probably only makes sense to me as well. I had better go do something serious and important immediately.
We made jam yesterday, 36oz of black cherry jam courtesy of Costco's bulk-buy fruit. Jam worthy of paying a Queen's Lady's Maid. Only every other day though. Yes that is a literary reference my dear, how very kind of you to notice.
I've been re-reading Alice In Wonderland, and Through The Looking-Glass; it's rather disconcerting to realise how much those two stories shaped my youthful internal monologue. Especially my tendency to scold myself in an upper-class accent, just like Alice. I found that I remembered almost every line verbatim, they're stored in my brain permanently, probably the result of having an excellent book on tape version of them, read by Alan Bennet. I was barely reading the book, more opening the door to the part of my memory where Mr Bennet's nasal voice resided, providing perfect inflections to the White Queen's assertion that it's always "jam tomorrow, and jam yesterday, but never jam today..." Because it's jam every other day you see, and today isn't any other day.
If anyone ever accuses me of creative circular logic, I can now point to Lewis Carroll for the reason. Just as I can lay my sick sense of humour at the door of Roald Dahl and Monty Python. I wish the Disney version of Alice had tried harder to carry accross the intelligent surreality of the book, and not just the random cartoonish characters. Alice is a permanent resident in my subconcious, bitchy little asides and all. Such a contrary little thing, but I suppose she can't help it.
Oh dear, I'm rambling in Carroll-ese, it probably only makes sense to me as well. I had better go do something serious and important immediately.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Pros and Cons
What could possibly be wrong with getting closer to a healthy weight? I'll tell you what, constantly changing shape and proportion is what's wrong with it. Even though the general trend is one of improvement, I'm starting to find it disconcerting that my bra size has now changed at least three times in the past six months. I say "at least" because I don't get measured that frequently, so there may well have been more fluctuations than I'm aware of, because I've certainly been having trouble finding ones that fit comfortably. I came to the conclusion that bras for anything along the lines of 36DD or 38D and up are incapable of providing support without looking and feeling like some kind of immobile cantilevered contraption strapped to your chest. So, of course, I'm relieved to be back in the realms of 36D, it's where I'm used to being: I have a significant bosom, I can choose a fairly wide range of attractive styles, but it no longer feels as though a civil engineer had to be called in to calculate the arc of the underwire. Hey!...my beloved 1940's style bikini might fit again now...
Now I am caught in a little bit of a dilemma. I have just found jeans that fit me. I have just gone to the Victoria's Secret clearance and bought a couple of bras in the new correct size, and even more knickers in frightening colours...and I don't particularly feel like changing the shape of my ass right now. Even though I know I'll feel better after the fact, even though I want to be more flexible and toned, I keep thinking of the pricetag on the fun "I shrank out of those clothes so I need some more now" shopping sprees. I am in a mindset where I feel I'm supposed to try hard to continue my shrinkage, rather than truly wanting to for myself.
The last 40lb I lost absolutely had to go, I hated the way I looked and felt in that version of my body. But I've always been on the large side, I do remember the brief period when I was a svelte size 11/12, but I don't think I ever really registered how it felt at the time, I just know that I was wearing a size 12 with room to spare, but I was still plenty curvy even then. I don't do dainty.
So where does that leave me on the self-improving resolutions? I don't really know, though I do know that I want to be stronger, I know I want to be more flexible, and I know I want to have the ability to work on the speed part in karate. I want to be the woman who can make a spin kick a practical attack because I'm just so damn fast with it. I want to be the woman who snaps out a strike and it looks as though I've been standing there with my fist out all along because the transition was so fast.
When it comes down to it, aesthetically, I like the shape of my body right now, ideally there'd be a little less roundness in the tummy and less squish in my thighs. There will always be such foibles, nobody is every completely satisfied with themselves. What I'm not so happy with is the achey joints and stiffness, the fact that after about ten minutes of sparring I slow down significantly because my arms get tired and that makes me feel pathetic and weak.
Perhaps this spells pilates tape and home weight training. More sparring drills and possibly picking up a shinai on Sundays. Stretching before bed. Ignoring the "dieting and weightloss" stuff for a change and working on feeling relaxed and well exercised. I'll probably end up with a tighter belt as a side effect, but it's not going to make me happy if the size 12 jeans are my goal, rather than a pleasant side effect. I can't allow myself to focus on those numbers, what I want is to feel healthy, to know my body is less of a limiting factor on my activities, maybe even to find some muscle definition in places that haven't had it before.
I suppose this has turned into a declaration of sorts. That what I really want from my body is to be strong, fast and capable. So what if the girl standing next to me has far prettier legs? I don't care how I look in a bathing suit if I can go through my forms and feel every move coming out as it's supposed to. I don't want to look like this or that I want to feel comfortable in my own skin (which requires being small enough to avoid the titanium reinforced brassieres), and to learn to kick ass properly and with style.
What could possibly be wrong with getting closer to a healthy weight? I'll tell you what, constantly changing shape and proportion is what's wrong with it. Even though the general trend is one of improvement, I'm starting to find it disconcerting that my bra size has now changed at least three times in the past six months. I say "at least" because I don't get measured that frequently, so there may well have been more fluctuations than I'm aware of, because I've certainly been having trouble finding ones that fit comfortably. I came to the conclusion that bras for anything along the lines of 36DD or 38D and up are incapable of providing support without looking and feeling like some kind of immobile cantilevered contraption strapped to your chest. So, of course, I'm relieved to be back in the realms of 36D, it's where I'm used to being: I have a significant bosom, I can choose a fairly wide range of attractive styles, but it no longer feels as though a civil engineer had to be called in to calculate the arc of the underwire. Hey!...my beloved 1940's style bikini might fit again now...
Now I am caught in a little bit of a dilemma. I have just found jeans that fit me. I have just gone to the Victoria's Secret clearance and bought a couple of bras in the new correct size, and even more knickers in frightening colours...and I don't particularly feel like changing the shape of my ass right now. Even though I know I'll feel better after the fact, even though I want to be more flexible and toned, I keep thinking of the pricetag on the fun "I shrank out of those clothes so I need some more now" shopping sprees. I am in a mindset where I feel I'm supposed to try hard to continue my shrinkage, rather than truly wanting to for myself.
The last 40lb I lost absolutely had to go, I hated the way I looked and felt in that version of my body. But I've always been on the large side, I do remember the brief period when I was a svelte size 11/12, but I don't think I ever really registered how it felt at the time, I just know that I was wearing a size 12 with room to spare, but I was still plenty curvy even then. I don't do dainty.
So where does that leave me on the self-improving resolutions? I don't really know, though I do know that I want to be stronger, I know I want to be more flexible, and I know I want to have the ability to work on the speed part in karate. I want to be the woman who can make a spin kick a practical attack because I'm just so damn fast with it. I want to be the woman who snaps out a strike and it looks as though I've been standing there with my fist out all along because the transition was so fast.
When it comes down to it, aesthetically, I like the shape of my body right now, ideally there'd be a little less roundness in the tummy and less squish in my thighs. There will always be such foibles, nobody is every completely satisfied with themselves. What I'm not so happy with is the achey joints and stiffness, the fact that after about ten minutes of sparring I slow down significantly because my arms get tired and that makes me feel pathetic and weak.
Perhaps this spells pilates tape and home weight training. More sparring drills and possibly picking up a shinai on Sundays. Stretching before bed. Ignoring the "dieting and weightloss" stuff for a change and working on feeling relaxed and well exercised. I'll probably end up with a tighter belt as a side effect, but it's not going to make me happy if the size 12 jeans are my goal, rather than a pleasant side effect. I can't allow myself to focus on those numbers, what I want is to feel healthy, to know my body is less of a limiting factor on my activities, maybe even to find some muscle definition in places that haven't had it before.
I suppose this has turned into a declaration of sorts. That what I really want from my body is to be strong, fast and capable. So what if the girl standing next to me has far prettier legs? I don't care how I look in a bathing suit if I can go through my forms and feel every move coming out as it's supposed to. I don't want to look like this or that I want to feel comfortable in my own skin (which requires being small enough to avoid the titanium reinforced brassieres), and to learn to kick ass properly and with style.
Saturday, June 07, 2003
I am, as hoped for, sitting at my desk in the new apartment. I just got it set up, and everything seems to have survived the epic move of about three metres up, and 70 to the southeast. My desk fit back together with considerably less problem than it's original construciton, all of my furniture fit in the elevator, and with the combined help of Brandon and Rachel on Friday, and Bob today, we have everything but the odds and ends moved in and arranged meticulously in large random heaps all over the living room.
Somehow there is still space in the living room, even with most of our worldy possesions and a queen-sized bed in there.
Somehow there is still space in the living room, even with most of our worldy possesions and a queen-sized bed in there.
Friday, June 06, 2003
The building excitement of our impending move was somewhat dampened yesterday by the news that they still need to replace a drainage pipe behind the washer/dryer. Which requires access through the wall of the master bathroom, and the hall closet that backs onto the bathroom. There is still a functional bathroom, and it'll be done in a week or so, but Red asked us not to put all the bedroom furniture in the master bedroom in the meantime, so that the plumber can come and go with equipment and not have to worry about smudging our bedroom set. So we shall be camping out in our living room for a little while.
Funnily enough this is starting to sound like fun. It's a perfect excuse for not having it all set up perfectly immediately, we'll be able to get used to the space before we put the furniture in a more final arrangement. Not to mention the fact that it emphasizes how huge our living room is. I am leaving a generous studio, a large open rectangle given the appearance of an interesting shape by a slightly reccessed patio door and window. The main body of the living room in the new place, not counting the dining area branching off from it, is larger than my entire studio. For now we're going to have a queen sized mattress and boxspring in one corner, Matt's living room furniture, plus his dresser, plus my bed leaning up against a wall, plus a bunch of boxes and a large heap of unstowed bedcovers and blankets...and we'll have space to spare. It's positively cavernous. Without the attending fanged beast lurking in the background, and less moss on the walls than is usually seen in your standard cavern style abode.
Once we had made it clear that we still wanted to move in asap despite the inconvenience of the pipe replacement, Red stopped by with the keys, a day early, we were somewhat nonplussed at first, but then realized we had just been given an extra evening to get a head start on moving in and began to haul boxes for all we were worth.
I'm pretty useless at work today, I can't wait to get back to North Park and get moving. I can't wait to truly live with Matt, we spend so much time together it's been much more a frustrating timewaster to accomodate two apartments. Neither of us got housekeeping done, and whatever thing we wanted to wear on a given day usually ended up at the wrong apartment. It was a neccesary stage along the way, now we know for sure that we want to be together, we're moving in together to be together, not for financial reasons or some ideal of playing house.
Alright, I am going to do some work now dammit. I will justify my paycheck by labelling 15ml tubes for Dianne and braving the darkroom yet again to see if another three year old antibody has died from neglect.
With luck the next post will be from me sitting at my desk in the study of our new apartment.
Funnily enough this is starting to sound like fun. It's a perfect excuse for not having it all set up perfectly immediately, we'll be able to get used to the space before we put the furniture in a more final arrangement. Not to mention the fact that it emphasizes how huge our living room is. I am leaving a generous studio, a large open rectangle given the appearance of an interesting shape by a slightly reccessed patio door and window. The main body of the living room in the new place, not counting the dining area branching off from it, is larger than my entire studio. For now we're going to have a queen sized mattress and boxspring in one corner, Matt's living room furniture, plus his dresser, plus my bed leaning up against a wall, plus a bunch of boxes and a large heap of unstowed bedcovers and blankets...and we'll have space to spare. It's positively cavernous. Without the attending fanged beast lurking in the background, and less moss on the walls than is usually seen in your standard cavern style abode.
Once we had made it clear that we still wanted to move in asap despite the inconvenience of the pipe replacement, Red stopped by with the keys, a day early, we were somewhat nonplussed at first, but then realized we had just been given an extra evening to get a head start on moving in and began to haul boxes for all we were worth.
I'm pretty useless at work today, I can't wait to get back to North Park and get moving. I can't wait to truly live with Matt, we spend so much time together it's been much more a frustrating timewaster to accomodate two apartments. Neither of us got housekeeping done, and whatever thing we wanted to wear on a given day usually ended up at the wrong apartment. It was a neccesary stage along the way, now we know for sure that we want to be together, we're moving in together to be together, not for financial reasons or some ideal of playing house.
Alright, I am going to do some work now dammit. I will justify my paycheck by labelling 15ml tubes for Dianne and braving the darkroom yet again to see if another three year old antibody has died from neglect.
With luck the next post will be from me sitting at my desk in the study of our new apartment.
Thursday, June 05, 2003
Oooooh, Blogger redesign. I can't see where to republish my archives if I change the template, I'm sure I'll figure it out.
Tonight is the last night in my studio, I'll have to pack up the last bits of my kitchen once we finish eating. Aside from coffee-making apparatus, which is essential for morning survival.
Meanwhile I'm heading in to work a bit early, so I can get finished up and get out earlier.
Tonight is the last night in my studio, I'll have to pack up the last bits of my kitchen once we finish eating. Aside from coffee-making apparatus, which is essential for morning survival.
Meanwhile I'm heading in to work a bit early, so I can get finished up and get out earlier.
Monday, June 02, 2003
What a great weekend, and surprisingly productive too.
As if a four-day working week following Memorial Day weekend wasn't enough slacking, I took off from work at 12.30 on Friday to go pick up Monica from the train station. Yes, I did say Monica, she made it to San Diego! Only for about 18 hours, but it was enough for her to get a taster of "sunny" San Diego, and enough to show her a little of my life here. The June gloom was in full force when she arrived, but during lunch it burned off and we got to sit in the sun for a while in the courtyard of UTC mall.
I had completely neglected to inform her of the layering rule of dressing here. It may be sunny most of the time, but the gloom and breeze make some variety of sweater a neccesity. I must remember to make this a standard part of any invite to visit me here, soomething along the lines of: "Come see me, we can go to the beach, bring a bikini, sandals, and a big fuzzy sweater!"
Eventually we got back to my place, with the slight chaos excused by my impending move (nice cover for the usual state of dissarray in my apartment). Matt wandered down and met us there. Monica got the full experience of my apartment, right down to the shower flooding itself again, this time while I was doing dishes. Got to love those interconnected drains. So we made a hasty exit and headed down to Ocean Beach to watch the sun set behind the marine layer. The rocky cove Matt discovered is fantastic, the waves make a great show splashing up against the crags, and we managed to avoid getting splashed full on until the very end. There were a few narrow escapes, but that's all part of the fun. My poor shoes are now officially dead. Two occasions of a saltwater soaking spell doom for any suede.
After we dried off somewhat we met Bob at the Cheesecake Factory, he and Monica bonded over the atkins diet, which is still a mystery to me, being allowed to eat eggs and cheese till the cows come home, but no tomatos because they've got sugar in them. Wierd.
Back to Matt's place for the night, since my bathroom was somewhat out of commission. Up at 5.45am (bless the coffee machine with a timer function) and back to the train station by 7, so Monica could go back to LA and schmooze more Democrats.
That only covers Friday afternoon and Saturday morning. After we got back from the station, we watched The Ring, Matt did a bunch of packing while I had a nap, then I went back to my apartment to find the building manager attacking my drains with a motorised snake, he got the blockage cleared apparantly, with another flood on the bathroom floor in the process. So instead of packing my kitchen I went to the laundrette to wash my towels and bathmat. It was ok though, because the laundrette had the History Channel on one of the TVs and I got to learn about how insane Ivan the Terrible really was.
The rest of the weekend was packing, until I ran out of newspaper to wrap kitchen stuff in, a short cycle up to the Antique Row Cafe for lunch on Sunday, Costco for supplies for this week, Lane Bryant, Express and DSW for (in order) jeans that FIT, more tshirts and a pair of maryjane clogs.
Oh, and Brandon and Rachel called by for a while, so we have another helper for the move next weekend.
Four more nights until we spend the first night in our place.
As if a four-day working week following Memorial Day weekend wasn't enough slacking, I took off from work at 12.30 on Friday to go pick up Monica from the train station. Yes, I did say Monica, she made it to San Diego! Only for about 18 hours, but it was enough for her to get a taster of "sunny" San Diego, and enough to show her a little of my life here. The June gloom was in full force when she arrived, but during lunch it burned off and we got to sit in the sun for a while in the courtyard of UTC mall.
I had completely neglected to inform her of the layering rule of dressing here. It may be sunny most of the time, but the gloom and breeze make some variety of sweater a neccesity. I must remember to make this a standard part of any invite to visit me here, soomething along the lines of: "Come see me, we can go to the beach, bring a bikini, sandals, and a big fuzzy sweater!"
Eventually we got back to my place, with the slight chaos excused by my impending move (nice cover for the usual state of dissarray in my apartment). Matt wandered down and met us there. Monica got the full experience of my apartment, right down to the shower flooding itself again, this time while I was doing dishes. Got to love those interconnected drains. So we made a hasty exit and headed down to Ocean Beach to watch the sun set behind the marine layer. The rocky cove Matt discovered is fantastic, the waves make a great show splashing up against the crags, and we managed to avoid getting splashed full on until the very end. There were a few narrow escapes, but that's all part of the fun. My poor shoes are now officially dead. Two occasions of a saltwater soaking spell doom for any suede.
After we dried off somewhat we met Bob at the Cheesecake Factory, he and Monica bonded over the atkins diet, which is still a mystery to me, being allowed to eat eggs and cheese till the cows come home, but no tomatos because they've got sugar in them. Wierd.
Back to Matt's place for the night, since my bathroom was somewhat out of commission. Up at 5.45am (bless the coffee machine with a timer function) and back to the train station by 7, so Monica could go back to LA and schmooze more Democrats.
That only covers Friday afternoon and Saturday morning. After we got back from the station, we watched The Ring, Matt did a bunch of packing while I had a nap, then I went back to my apartment to find the building manager attacking my drains with a motorised snake, he got the blockage cleared apparantly, with another flood on the bathroom floor in the process. So instead of packing my kitchen I went to the laundrette to wash my towels and bathmat. It was ok though, because the laundrette had the History Channel on one of the TVs and I got to learn about how insane Ivan the Terrible really was.
The rest of the weekend was packing, until I ran out of newspaper to wrap kitchen stuff in, a short cycle up to the Antique Row Cafe for lunch on Sunday, Costco for supplies for this week, Lane Bryant, Express and DSW for (in order) jeans that FIT, more tshirts and a pair of maryjane clogs.
Oh, and Brandon and Rachel called by for a while, so we have another helper for the move next weekend.
Four more nights until we spend the first night in our place.
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
The refund showed up on my statement today. A voided transaction gets processed as a "refund" so they can hold on to my money for six days.
Grrrr.
War was even better this year, with the feeling of returning to a group of friends, even though we'd only seen Lori and Glenn once since the previous War, House Rittervald welcomed us in, and even fed us. Matt found a beautiful Sghien Dubh (I have to check my spelling) in damascus steel, and I resisted the pull of a norse-style short sword and came home with a hand-thrown pitcher with knotwork on it. We both found braided ribbon trim for our cloaks. Bob was a pirate in sneakers, thus saving himself from the fun of War-dust between his toes.
There was singing around the campfire, two guitar players taking turns and playing together, much sitting around drinking divine coffee drinks courtesy of the Goddess Kaffeina, getting chased away from the sidelines of the heavies fighting by autocrats, being woken up by crows and demented ducks, but no sun burn.
Grrrr.
War was even better this year, with the feeling of returning to a group of friends, even though we'd only seen Lori and Glenn once since the previous War, House Rittervald welcomed us in, and even fed us. Matt found a beautiful Sghien Dubh (I have to check my spelling) in damascus steel, and I resisted the pull of a norse-style short sword and came home with a hand-thrown pitcher with knotwork on it. We both found braided ribbon trim for our cloaks. Bob was a pirate in sneakers, thus saving himself from the fun of War-dust between his toes.
There was singing around the campfire, two guitar players taking turns and playing together, much sitting around drinking divine coffee drinks courtesy of the Goddess Kaffeina, getting chased away from the sidelines of the heavies fighting by autocrats, being woken up by crows and demented ducks, but no sun burn.
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
The Saga Of The Pendant Continues
I went back after work on Friday, and the woman who had handed me the empty box was very glad to see me, and had bought a little box of four Godiva chocolates by way of an apology. I had been pondering my purchase all day and in the end decided to change the little filligree heart for a slightly larger heart with daisies engraved on it, and a couple of tiny diamonds. It was more than the other (of course) but it was very much more her.
Granny loved it, and even has some silver earrings to wear with it, she doesn't wear much silvertone stuff because she doesn't own much, not becasue she doesn't like it.
Then, this morning, I checked my credit card balance online. The original charge is still there. The one I asked her to erase and put on a different card. So I have paid for a white gold (with diamonds) pendant on my UK card, and am now expected to pay for a transaction that was (supposedly) cancelled before I even left the store the first time. Human error allowing this is starting ot piss me off.
I'm now wondering what proof I have that the initial transaciton was voided, I didn't ask for a copy of the voided receipt, and I didn't keep a copy of the receipt from the first purchase. All I have is the receipt from when I exchanged the little heart for the larger one, and a printout of my online credit card statement showing the erroneous charge. I just hope it's enough. I don't want to be $50 out of pocket because someone didn't let my credit card know that they cancelled a charge.
I went back after work on Friday, and the woman who had handed me the empty box was very glad to see me, and had bought a little box of four Godiva chocolates by way of an apology. I had been pondering my purchase all day and in the end decided to change the little filligree heart for a slightly larger heart with daisies engraved on it, and a couple of tiny diamonds. It was more than the other (of course) but it was very much more her.
Granny loved it, and even has some silver earrings to wear with it, she doesn't wear much silvertone stuff because she doesn't own much, not becasue she doesn't like it.
Then, this morning, I checked my credit card balance online. The original charge is still there. The one I asked her to erase and put on a different card. So I have paid for a white gold (with diamonds) pendant on my UK card, and am now expected to pay for a transaction that was (supposedly) cancelled before I even left the store the first time. Human error allowing this is starting ot piss me off.
I'm now wondering what proof I have that the initial transaciton was voided, I didn't ask for a copy of the voided receipt, and I didn't keep a copy of the receipt from the first purchase. All I have is the receipt from when I exchanged the little heart for the larger one, and a printout of my online credit card statement showing the erroneous charge. I just hope it's enough. I don't want to be $50 out of pocket because someone didn't let my credit card know that they cancelled a charge.
Friday, May 16, 2003
Now I know why I don't wear much jewelry
Because, to put it simply, shopping for jewelry is a more frustrating hell than trying to find a bathing suit that doesn't make me feel like a trainee blue whale.
I spent two hours searching the UTC mall for a pendant for my Granny. I saw many things I liked, but most of them were too "funky" looking for my Granny, oddly twisted hearts and some lovely middle-eastern influenced scrollwork and tassled necklaces that my Mum would adore. Plain, simple, understated pendants involving yellow gold and perhaps some pelasant-coloured semi-precious stones? Nope. Not on your nelly. I waded through every department store, two jeweller's and one costume jewelry store where the clerk tried to convince me that my grandmother would just love to own a chunky silver chain with starfish hanging off it. There are very few ways to politely say "no thank you, that's much too gaudy for her" and "can we keep it under $150 please?" and I ran out of tact somewhere between Nordstrom's and Robinson's May.
Eventually I returned to Ben Bridge [>] and went with a little filligree heart in white gold, even though I know she wears yellow gold. It was the only thing that remotely said Suey to me. I was also encouraged by it being half the approximate amount my Mum told me to expect to pay.
Then I managed to pull out the wrong card to pay for it, and didn't realise until it had already been rung up, so I had to get her to void the first transaction and start over. The second card took an inexplicably long time to clear, thus wasting an additional 15 minutes or so.
By this point I was ready for a nap, my eyes were aching from staring at so many sparkly things under bright lights, trying to search for the invisible understated pieces amongst the carbuncles, and I was well overdue for a boost to my blood sugar. I got straight on 805 and headed home. Matt already had dinner ready, bless him.
I pulled out the package to show Matt what I'd wasted two hours looking for, opened the cardboard gift box, then the jewelery box...and proudly displayed to him an empty cream velvet interior.
NYAAAAAARGGGH!
That's right, I walked out of there with a gift box. But no pendant.
I'm going to call them as soon as they open this morning. I am just praying it gets sorted out easily. I'm also very glad that I didn't go for the $200 locket and then have this happen, I would have completely freaked out. As it is I feel I've had a lucky escape from proudly presenting Granny with an empty box. Thank Fate I took it out to show off...
Because, to put it simply, shopping for jewelry is a more frustrating hell than trying to find a bathing suit that doesn't make me feel like a trainee blue whale.
I spent two hours searching the UTC mall for a pendant for my Granny. I saw many things I liked, but most of them were too "funky" looking for my Granny, oddly twisted hearts and some lovely middle-eastern influenced scrollwork and tassled necklaces that my Mum would adore. Plain, simple, understated pendants involving yellow gold and perhaps some pelasant-coloured semi-precious stones? Nope. Not on your nelly. I waded through every department store, two jeweller's and one costume jewelry store where the clerk tried to convince me that my grandmother would just love to own a chunky silver chain with starfish hanging off it. There are very few ways to politely say "no thank you, that's much too gaudy for her" and "can we keep it under $150 please?" and I ran out of tact somewhere between Nordstrom's and Robinson's May.
Eventually I returned to Ben Bridge [>] and went with a little filligree heart in white gold, even though I know she wears yellow gold. It was the only thing that remotely said Suey to me. I was also encouraged by it being half the approximate amount my Mum told me to expect to pay.
Then I managed to pull out the wrong card to pay for it, and didn't realise until it had already been rung up, so I had to get her to void the first transaction and start over. The second card took an inexplicably long time to clear, thus wasting an additional 15 minutes or so.
By this point I was ready for a nap, my eyes were aching from staring at so many sparkly things under bright lights, trying to search for the invisible understated pieces amongst the carbuncles, and I was well overdue for a boost to my blood sugar. I got straight on 805 and headed home. Matt already had dinner ready, bless him.
I pulled out the package to show Matt what I'd wasted two hours looking for, opened the cardboard gift box, then the jewelery box...and proudly displayed to him an empty cream velvet interior.
NYAAAAAARGGGH!
That's right, I walked out of there with a gift box. But no pendant.
I'm going to call them as soon as they open this morning. I am just praying it gets sorted out easily. I'm also very glad that I didn't go for the $200 locket and then have this happen, I would have completely freaked out. As it is I feel I've had a lucky escape from proudly presenting Granny with an empty box. Thank Fate I took it out to show off...
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
*ahem* If you stop paying attention for a moment you'll turn around and find I've implemented some large change again. The last few months it was limited to rearranging furniture, apart from that whole switching jobs thing that's made such a huge difference to my working life...
Now I'm moving again. Upstairs in fact, to a large two-bedroom (and two full bathrooms!) apartment that just came available. Moving from a studio to a two bedroom and dropping my rent by $100.
Yep, Matt and I are moving in together. To some it's "finally" and to other's it's "already", but to us it's just right.
Now I'm moving again. Upstairs in fact, to a large two-bedroom (and two full bathrooms!) apartment that just came available. Moving from a studio to a two bedroom and dropping my rent by $100.
Yep, Matt and I are moving in together. To some it's "finally" and to other's it's "already", but to us it's just right.
Thursday, May 08, 2003
Getting Back On Form
Last night was a really good class, for the first time in ages I felt as though my legs and arms (but especially my legs) were paying attention and remembered what this whole karate thing was about. I ended up giggling in the middle of warmups, mostly because we were leaping back and forth between back-stances facing opposite directions and my hair flopping side to side made me feel like a karate-muppet unable to make up it's mind where to block. As Miss Piggy holds a firm fighting stance facing off her oponents she hears a movement behind her and switches around only to find an equally large group of attackers on that side too...
This is where the medium of words on a page, or on a screen, completely fails to convey my muppet impersonations. Muppet, fraggle (more when I had the pink hair) or straightforward Tigger, that's the side that doesn't get out much here, because it's mostly in the body language and tone of voice. I asked Matt the other day what animal I'm most like, as he thinks of himself as a golden retreiver, I was expecting cat, or kitten, maybe squirrel (since I'd been told that one before)... Instead of an animal, he came up with "a combination of Pooh and Tigger, with a bit of Roo, because of the mommy thing" this pretty quickly turned itself into me being mostly Tigger. At least it goes to explain why I got on my sister's nerves so much: she's Eyore.
Imagine a moody mid-teen-ager dealing with the strains of advanced classes in high school, first boyfriend, a hereditory tendency towards depression, and all the fear of picking colleges and planning your life, being presented with a bouncy prepubescent smartass of a kid sister. Reicepe for disaster? You got it. Though I'm not sure if Eyore ever tried to throttle Tigger after being bounced into the river.
I'd go out and get the litle fuzzy Tigger to match my toy Eyore, but I think Peppermint the snow leopard is quite enough kitty-shaped toys for this 23-year-old scientist.
Besides, the orange would clash with my comfy chair.
Last night was a really good class, for the first time in ages I felt as though my legs and arms (but especially my legs) were paying attention and remembered what this whole karate thing was about. I ended up giggling in the middle of warmups, mostly because we were leaping back and forth between back-stances facing opposite directions and my hair flopping side to side made me feel like a karate-muppet unable to make up it's mind where to block. As Miss Piggy holds a firm fighting stance facing off her oponents she hears a movement behind her and switches around only to find an equally large group of attackers on that side too...
This is where the medium of words on a page, or on a screen, completely fails to convey my muppet impersonations. Muppet, fraggle (more when I had the pink hair) or straightforward Tigger, that's the side that doesn't get out much here, because it's mostly in the body language and tone of voice. I asked Matt the other day what animal I'm most like, as he thinks of himself as a golden retreiver, I was expecting cat, or kitten, maybe squirrel (since I'd been told that one before)... Instead of an animal, he came up with "a combination of Pooh and Tigger, with a bit of Roo, because of the mommy thing" this pretty quickly turned itself into me being mostly Tigger. At least it goes to explain why I got on my sister's nerves so much: she's Eyore.
Imagine a moody mid-teen-ager dealing with the strains of advanced classes in high school, first boyfriend, a hereditory tendency towards depression, and all the fear of picking colleges and planning your life, being presented with a bouncy prepubescent smartass of a kid sister. Reicepe for disaster? You got it. Though I'm not sure if Eyore ever tried to throttle Tigger after being bounced into the river.
I'd go out and get the litle fuzzy Tigger to match my toy Eyore, but I think Peppermint the snow leopard is quite enough kitty-shaped toys for this 23-year-old scientist.
Besides, the orange would clash with my comfy chair.
Wednesday, April 30, 2003
Beltaine begins at sunset tonight. The start of summer...at least if you ask the majority of pagans. We think spring starts in the first week of February, (known as Imbolc, folks) so we don't exactly agree with the modern delineations. I prefer a system that gives equal weight to each season, instead of making spring and autumn short inbetweeny seasons. The transitions are the exciting parts, spring and fall are about change, summer and winter are the ones they change between.
I'm not pretending to pass on the recieved wisdom and set rules of paganism here; this is just my outlook on it, and I happen to be a pagan of sorts. A pagan that is currently debating the practicality of wearing a long skirt and frilly shirt to work in a lab tomorrow...
I'm not pretending to pass on the recieved wisdom and set rules of paganism here; this is just my outlook on it, and I happen to be a pagan of sorts. A pagan that is currently debating the practicality of wearing a long skirt and frilly shirt to work in a lab tomorrow...
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
I have no idea why I'm so tired recently, but I'm not worried about it because it isn't a wiped-out unwell kind of tired, it's just a nap time... feeling. The easiest answer is I'm recovering lost sleep from the past stressful months (or maybe even year), which is probably true, I'm also getting more exercise from parking off-campus. I've already cut the walk from 15-20 minutes to more like 10 after a two weeks of striding up the hill. Sure, I huff and puff and get all pink and frazzled looking, but as soon as I reach my car (or work, depending on which direction) my breath is back, the heavy breathing merely seems to be maintaining my speed, not a sign I'm about to collapse and asphyxiate. My calf muscles usually feel like rocks at the end of the day now, until I give them some serious stretching.
So far my only real problem with this new work place is the absence of a communal coffee machine. Funny how you don't realise a dependency until you are deprived. I'm taking steps to rectify this problem though, I've ordered an espresso machine, which will be here in about a month because it's one of the rare items that takes 2 weeks to ship from amazon.com [>]. I know I could have just gone to Target and bought a coffee machine for $25, but I'm not a filter-drip coffee drinker by choice. I like the full flavour that comes through with my french press, but the kettle takes quarter of an hour to boil (yes, I've been timing it) and that's too long for morning coffee! Then I found an espresso machine for $50, a space-age one at that, and my dreadful coffee-dilemma was solved.
Shallow though this all seems, I'm putting it up because it's fun having my biggest problem this week being whether to buy a filter drip machine or an espresso machine. Not to mention my excitement at an impending new toy.
So far my only real problem with this new work place is the absence of a communal coffee machine. Funny how you don't realise a dependency until you are deprived. I'm taking steps to rectify this problem though, I've ordered an espresso machine, which will be here in about a month because it's one of the rare items that takes 2 weeks to ship from amazon.com [>]. I know I could have just gone to Target and bought a coffee machine for $25, but I'm not a filter-drip coffee drinker by choice. I like the full flavour that comes through with my french press, but the kettle takes quarter of an hour to boil (yes, I've been timing it) and that's too long for morning coffee! Then I found an espresso machine for $50, a space-age one at that, and my dreadful coffee-dilemma was solved.
Shallow though this all seems, I'm putting it up because it's fun having my biggest problem this week being whether to buy a filter drip machine or an espresso machine. Not to mention my excitement at an impending new toy.
Thursday, April 24, 2003
Inventory for the morning.
Managed to haul self out of bed, despite the recent relocation of the gravity well from the futon to the mattress.
Emptied the neverending bowl of cereal (it stayed crunchy too!) and realised that I'm far too used to slurp-and-run breakfasts.
Made it back to my apartment without falling alseep on my feet.
Made coffee. (Precioussssssssss cofffeeeeeeee)
Made pastry.
Pastry is now chilling in the fridge, while I am about to go for the fastest shower in history and pray there's a parking spot within half a mile of work by the time I get there.
Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOB [>] !!
(that's what the pastry's for, in case anyone was wondering why it featured in my morning routine)
Managed to haul self out of bed, despite the recent relocation of the gravity well from the futon to the mattress.
Emptied the neverending bowl of cereal (it stayed crunchy too!) and realised that I'm far too used to slurp-and-run breakfasts.
Made it back to my apartment without falling alseep on my feet.
Made coffee. (Precioussssssssss cofffeeeeeeee)
Made pastry.
Pastry is now chilling in the fridge, while I am about to go for the fastest shower in history and pray there's a parking spot within half a mile of work by the time I get there.
Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOB [>] !!
(that's what the pastry's for, in case anyone was wondering why it featured in my morning routine)
Saturday, April 19, 2003
Thursday, April 17, 2003
My final trip to the animal facility passed without significant occurence yesterday. The mice are still there, and nobody seems to have shuffled them about into the wrong cages or any other disasterous little error. I felt absolutely no twinges of nostalgia at the idea that this was the last time I'd be in that room mixing and matching breeding pairs, and trying to read the numbers on their earrings without getting bitten.
So now I'm sitting about procrastinating in my apartment. I haven't built the excell file for Vin yet, I originally put it off because I thought I had to do it on a mac for him to be able to read it, now I'm just plain procrastinating. Taking advantage of the fact that I dont' have to be in at work this morning, only the place where I used to work, where they can hardly yell at me for being late when I'm coming in to finish a proceedure for them as a courtesy.
I am procrastinating by updating my quicken file, subscribing to Norton Antivirus, and attempting to cancel my unused AOL subscripiton before they start charging me for it. They do not make it easy to cancel, that's for sure. I have run around circular chains of links looking for a section along the lines of "cancel my subscription" and there wasn't even a hint of it. As though they want you to forget it's an option. Other ISPs do not exist, they are merely figments of your imagination... I finally resorted to live online help. Who gave me a phone number, which connected me to a woman who spouted out the script she had been given as fast as humanly possible without regard for diction, inflection or intelligebility. I think I have cancelled my subscription, but after asking her to repeat herself four or five times, and requesting that she speak more slowly each time I asked for a repeat, I just took my confirmaiton number and ran.
On the home front...it's been a wierd couple of days. It's hard to really explain how, because it was so internal and so close to the core that words don't work very well. We've both been having a bit of a rocky path recently, and I forgot that. I forgot that it's both of us, not just me, that's been through the wringer. Of course that's why we work so well together.
I'm so used to being the only sensitive person in a relationship, to being trampled and taken for granted and whined at for not fulfilling expectations, I need to remind myself again and again that this man is different, he isn't going to treat me like that. I had realised that part fairly early on, what I failed to note was that this also means he can get hurt by me more easily than the other oafs. So now I've pulled my head out of my ass maybe we can continue with the upward path we were on before.
So now I'm sitting about procrastinating in my apartment. I haven't built the excell file for Vin yet, I originally put it off because I thought I had to do it on a mac for him to be able to read it, now I'm just plain procrastinating. Taking advantage of the fact that I dont' have to be in at work this morning, only the place where I used to work, where they can hardly yell at me for being late when I'm coming in to finish a proceedure for them as a courtesy.
I am procrastinating by updating my quicken file, subscribing to Norton Antivirus, and attempting to cancel my unused AOL subscripiton before they start charging me for it. They do not make it easy to cancel, that's for sure. I have run around circular chains of links looking for a section along the lines of "cancel my subscription" and there wasn't even a hint of it. As though they want you to forget it's an option. Other ISPs do not exist, they are merely figments of your imagination... I finally resorted to live online help. Who gave me a phone number, which connected me to a woman who spouted out the script she had been given as fast as humanly possible without regard for diction, inflection or intelligebility. I think I have cancelled my subscription, but after asking her to repeat herself four or five times, and requesting that she speak more slowly each time I asked for a repeat, I just took my confirmaiton number and ran.
On the home front...it's been a wierd couple of days. It's hard to really explain how, because it was so internal and so close to the core that words don't work very well. We've both been having a bit of a rocky path recently, and I forgot that. I forgot that it's both of us, not just me, that's been through the wringer. Of course that's why we work so well together.
I'm so used to being the only sensitive person in a relationship, to being trampled and taken for granted and whined at for not fulfilling expectations, I need to remind myself again and again that this man is different, he isn't going to treat me like that. I had realised that part fairly early on, what I failed to note was that this also means he can get hurt by me more easily than the other oafs. So now I've pulled my head out of my ass maybe we can continue with the upward path we were on before.
Wednesday, April 16, 2003
So far so good
On my first day they had me "training" a high school student who's in for four days this week. In about two weeks I will be training a new guy who's coming in to one of the other labs in our group. This new guy was the other candidate for my job, hopefully he won't have a problem with being trained by the woman who beat him to that position, especially since they liked him so much they called him back for an alternative position.
Today is back-and-forth day, as is tomorrow. I'm going in to the Whittier this afternoon to start a column running, then tomorrow morning to collect the product. Which means a final trip to the mousies today, and I will hand my badge over to Vin, along with the notebook this afternoon.
I'm still boggled by the suggestion I train someone after being at the new lab for a couple of weeks! It is a new feeling to be presented with a challenge that will stretch me, but is do-able. It was begining to feel as though all the challenging things expected of me were of the variety that would require me to sprout super-powers and psychic abilities instantaineously.
On my first day they had me "training" a high school student who's in for four days this week. In about two weeks I will be training a new guy who's coming in to one of the other labs in our group. This new guy was the other candidate for my job, hopefully he won't have a problem with being trained by the woman who beat him to that position, especially since they liked him so much they called him back for an alternative position.
Today is back-and-forth day, as is tomorrow. I'm going in to the Whittier this afternoon to start a column running, then tomorrow morning to collect the product. Which means a final trip to the mousies today, and I will hand my badge over to Vin, along with the notebook this afternoon.
I'm still boggled by the suggestion I train someone after being at the new lab for a couple of weeks! It is a new feeling to be presented with a challenge that will stretch me, but is do-able. It was begining to feel as though all the challenging things expected of me were of the variety that would require me to sprout super-powers and psychic abilities instantaineously.
Friday, April 11, 2003
My last official day, and I don't want it to start yet. I think I'm afraid of the transition period, worrying about how much I'm going to be expected to continue to do at the Whittier while trying to make an excellent first impression at the new lab.
It's a new experience for me, becasue it's only my last day, not the last day of school before the summer holidays, the farewell concert at St Margaret's, exhibition day at The Edinburgh Academy, hoards of people saying so long, see you later, have a nice life, keep in touch, nice knowing you...just me, drifting off into the ether. Rather like my graduation ceremony at King's, I barely spoke to anyone, exchanged no hugs or telephone numbers, just stood there in my gown hoping nobody who knew me would notice the "3rd class honours" next to my name, wishing for the day to be over.
I know it will be a damp squib, because I will have to come back to finish up, at the very least to run the last netrin purification. I wonder if Vincenzo will realise that the sudden disorganisation is an indicator of how much I have been doing here, or just assign it to sabotage on the part of the one who left.
The sooner I get started the sooner I'll be done. The more I achive today the less I will have left over to complete in drips and dribbles over the next couple of weeks, interfering with my new position.
It's a new experience for me, becasue it's only my last day, not the last day of school before the summer holidays, the farewell concert at St Margaret's, exhibition day at The Edinburgh Academy, hoards of people saying so long, see you later, have a nice life, keep in touch, nice knowing you...just me, drifting off into the ether. Rather like my graduation ceremony at King's, I barely spoke to anyone, exchanged no hugs or telephone numbers, just stood there in my gown hoping nobody who knew me would notice the "3rd class honours" next to my name, wishing for the day to be over.
I know it will be a damp squib, because I will have to come back to finish up, at the very least to run the last netrin purification. I wonder if Vincenzo will realise that the sudden disorganisation is an indicator of how much I have been doing here, or just assign it to sabotage on the part of the one who left.
The sooner I get started the sooner I'll be done. The more I achive today the less I will have left over to complete in drips and dribbles over the next couple of weeks, interfering with my new position.
Monday, April 07, 2003
A Year And A Day
It's hard to decide if it feels longer or shorter, but it's just a year and a day. For a year and a day now I have had him in my life, it started [>] slowly, or seemed to. But from the moment I sat down in the fold-down theatre seat accross from him in the cafe, from the moment I took his hand in greeting and noticed the shape, the warmth of his skin, noticed the pair of celtic rings... From that moment my life was changed, though I didn't know it yet, and it has been changing for the better ever since.
Every day now, every single day I have love, so passionate it takes my breath away, and yet so constant and true that it has become a treasured habit. I wake up to a kiss, sleepy hugs in passing while we stagger into our work clothes, a quick breakfast and we're off to our respective destinations. For the rest of the day I smile remembering his sleepy face, the flop of flaxen hair that refuses to stay completely behind his ear, his cold feet seeking out my own for morning warmth.
After work we sink into the gravity well hidden in his futon, rest our heads together and realise that the gravity well must be escaped if we are ever to have dinner. This usually requires teamwork.
I could go on, listing detail after detail that makes him, that makes us so wonderful to me. It all flattens like toothpaste when translated into words. So I will stick with this choice selection: thank you for being part of my life, for making this past year full of growth and love, stick around and who know's what we'll manage together!
It's hard to decide if it feels longer or shorter, but it's just a year and a day. For a year and a day now I have had him in my life, it started [>] slowly, or seemed to. But from the moment I sat down in the fold-down theatre seat accross from him in the cafe, from the moment I took his hand in greeting and noticed the shape, the warmth of his skin, noticed the pair of celtic rings... From that moment my life was changed, though I didn't know it yet, and it has been changing for the better ever since.
Every day now, every single day I have love, so passionate it takes my breath away, and yet so constant and true that it has become a treasured habit. I wake up to a kiss, sleepy hugs in passing while we stagger into our work clothes, a quick breakfast and we're off to our respective destinations. For the rest of the day I smile remembering his sleepy face, the flop of flaxen hair that refuses to stay completely behind his ear, his cold feet seeking out my own for morning warmth.
After work we sink into the gravity well hidden in his futon, rest our heads together and realise that the gravity well must be escaped if we are ever to have dinner. This usually requires teamwork.
I could go on, listing detail after detail that makes him, that makes us so wonderful to me. It all flattens like toothpaste when translated into words. So I will stick with this choice selection: thank you for being part of my life, for making this past year full of growth and love, stick around and who know's what we'll manage together!
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
So it's real, I am in my last two weeks at the Whittier. Actually, my last full day will be April 11th, so I'm in my last 10 days....and counting.
Only I'm not really counting down, not as I have for so many landmarks, because it's so close I know it'll be upon me before I know it. Even then it won't be a definitive end point, there will be some remaining tasks in the month or so after I officially leave. I know I will have to come back in a couple of times to finish the last purification, and I know there will be some drama from Vin about the mice and how I should be training Giuseppe to handle them. Frankly, I'm not qualified to train anyone to care for a colony, all I can do is hand him an up-to-date excell file with their ages and genotypes, and send him off to do the classes, not forgetting to emphasize to him not to be afraid to ask Vin, because Vin is the big boss and he knows lots about mice. Supposedly.
The important thing is that this place is no longer my future. I no longer have to wonder "is this all I will ever amount to?" because I know that at the very least I amount to a succesful candidate for a challenging job in neuropathology, and someone who looks pretty good for a cell culture maintenence post in a gastroimmunology lab (yes, I was offered the other job too, I got to turn down a job and hand in my notice on the same day). Added to that I have been told across the board "You should plan on graduate studies, even if it's just an MSc, it would be a waste not to". Not by my Loving Parents, or my Devoted Partner, who's role it is to encourage and flatter me, but by my interviewer (and now soon-to-be-boss), by a coworker who has just been accepted into a highly competative Pharmacy school, and by the supervisor I'm leaving somewhat in the lurch with my resignation.
I was unhappy, and I looked for alternatives, I took the initiative and wrote my damn resume afresh, sent it out there, and I was rewarded with a new job, one that appeals to me in ways it never could have if I had fallen into it right out of university. My frustrated spinning at the Whittier has taught me to value straightforwardness, organisation and research-driven passion for work. All of a sudden I'm getting excited by papers on demyelinating leukoencephalopathy, and looking forward to working wiht endothelial cells, because they're much easier to work with than those pesky primary cell cultures we've been trying to use here. Not to mention not requiring isolation from primary tissue before they can be used...
I was also highly amused by a molecular biology in-joke [>] , and tried to share it with Matt, who had never heard of real-time PCR. I got a very blank look in return. He liked the picture of the enzyme vending machine though. You know you're a geek when the best joke of your day sounds like a bunch of gobbldygook to anyone outside your line of work.
Ladies and Gentlemen, hold on to your hats, I might be turning into a scientist after all.
Only I'm not really counting down, not as I have for so many landmarks, because it's so close I know it'll be upon me before I know it. Even then it won't be a definitive end point, there will be some remaining tasks in the month or so after I officially leave. I know I will have to come back in a couple of times to finish the last purification, and I know there will be some drama from Vin about the mice and how I should be training Giuseppe to handle them. Frankly, I'm not qualified to train anyone to care for a colony, all I can do is hand him an up-to-date excell file with their ages and genotypes, and send him off to do the classes, not forgetting to emphasize to him not to be afraid to ask Vin, because Vin is the big boss and he knows lots about mice. Supposedly.
The important thing is that this place is no longer my future. I no longer have to wonder "is this all I will ever amount to?" because I know that at the very least I amount to a succesful candidate for a challenging job in neuropathology, and someone who looks pretty good for a cell culture maintenence post in a gastroimmunology lab (yes, I was offered the other job too, I got to turn down a job and hand in my notice on the same day). Added to that I have been told across the board "You should plan on graduate studies, even if it's just an MSc, it would be a waste not to". Not by my Loving Parents, or my Devoted Partner, who's role it is to encourage and flatter me, but by my interviewer (and now soon-to-be-boss), by a coworker who has just been accepted into a highly competative Pharmacy school, and by the supervisor I'm leaving somewhat in the lurch with my resignation.
I was unhappy, and I looked for alternatives, I took the initiative and wrote my damn resume afresh, sent it out there, and I was rewarded with a new job, one that appeals to me in ways it never could have if I had fallen into it right out of university. My frustrated spinning at the Whittier has taught me to value straightforwardness, organisation and research-driven passion for work. All of a sudden I'm getting excited by papers on demyelinating leukoencephalopathy, and looking forward to working wiht endothelial cells, because they're much easier to work with than those pesky primary cell cultures we've been trying to use here. Not to mention not requiring isolation from primary tissue before they can be used...
I was also highly amused by a molecular biology in-joke [>] , and tried to share it with Matt, who had never heard of real-time PCR. I got a very blank look in return. He liked the picture of the enzyme vending machine though. You know you're a geek when the best joke of your day sounds like a bunch of gobbldygook to anyone outside your line of work.
Ladies and Gentlemen, hold on to your hats, I might be turning into a scientist after all.
Sunday, March 30, 2003
Tomorrow I hand in my notice. I plan to start at the new lab on the 14th, which is a year to the day after my first "last day" at the Whittier, before I began my highly enjoyable (and not at all stressful, oh no...) volunteer period [>] I did not plan this exactly, but it is a pleasing little bit of poetic justice for me.
I need to talk to Human Resources and to Dr Langford to find out what paperwork is required, first, to end my current job, and second to begin the new one. Preferably with all my benefits rolling right over and remaining unchanged, since I'm not changing employer, just labs.
That makes it sound like it'll hardly be a change at all, very decieving.
I need to talk to Human Resources and to Dr Langford to find out what paperwork is required, first, to end my current job, and second to begin the new one. Preferably with all my benefits rolling right over and remaining unchanged, since I'm not changing employer, just labs.
That makes it sound like it'll hardly be a change at all, very decieving.
Friday, March 28, 2003
There are too many things whizzing through my mind at the moment.
My parents are here, though they're late showing up at my apartment, Matt and I had dinner with them last night. I had some nice ideas for things to write here, but that all went out the window when I checked my email before coming to Blogger, and found a very important email.
I had been facing a weekend of wondering, as Dr Langford had said it was down to me and one other candidate, and she was going to ponder it over the weekend...evidently she changed this plan pretty quickly, as I found an email this morning offering me the job.
So...excuse me, I must just go take a cold shower, and pinch myself a few times.
They offered me the job...
My parents are here, though they're late showing up at my apartment, Matt and I had dinner with them last night. I had some nice ideas for things to write here, but that all went out the window when I checked my email before coming to Blogger, and found a very important email.
I had been facing a weekend of wondering, as Dr Langford had said it was down to me and one other candidate, and she was going to ponder it over the weekend...evidently she changed this plan pretty quickly, as I found an email this morning offering me the job.
So...excuse me, I must just go take a cold shower, and pinch myself a few times.
They offered me the job...
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
Where have all my links gone?
The template remains unchanged, so I'm going to wait and see if this resolves itself. Then maybe I'll go buy HTML For Dummies and make my own template so there's nobody to blame but me when it screws up.
I have an interview tonight after work, something in the Medical Department, involving immunology, but he wasn't very descriptive about their research projects. I will find out tonight though! Then I have the second interview for the neuropathology job tomorrow, but I'm not sure of what time yet...
The template remains unchanged, so I'm going to wait and see if this resolves itself. Then maybe I'll go buy HTML For Dummies and make my own template so there's nobody to blame but me when it screws up.
I have an interview tonight after work, something in the Medical Department, involving immunology, but he wasn't very descriptive about their research projects. I will find out tonight though! Then I have the second interview for the neuropathology job tomorrow, but I'm not sure of what time yet...
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
The interviewer on Thursday told me during the course of the interview that it's obvious to her I'll go on to grad school of some variety, I'm clearly too curious and intelligent to want to be a technician all my life...
Coming from a young 30-something PhD who holds a junior fellowship at UCSD, that's quite a compliment.
I've spent the past few years of my life being told in various ways that I'm just not cut out for academia, that I'm not motivated enough, or intellectual enough. Maybe it's time to stop listening to the naysayers and just follow what I want to do.
Coming from a young 30-something PhD who holds a junior fellowship at UCSD, that's quite a compliment.
I've spent the past few years of my life being told in various ways that I'm just not cut out for academia, that I'm not motivated enough, or intellectual enough. Maybe it's time to stop listening to the naysayers and just follow what I want to do.
Like Alice & The White Rabbit All Rolled Into One...
I seem to have spent the last couple of weeks scurrying about thinking "I'm late I'm late"...or something along those lines. There haven't been too many instances of random potions and cakes instructing me to drink or eat them, which is good since my appetite has gone through the roof (probably the result of a drastic decrease in smoke inhilation) and I'm sure I would just blithely follow instructions and end up oscillating back and forth between ten foot two and three inches tall.
The Alice analagy also holds up with my mood, I've been extraordinarily touchy recently, just like so many of the characters in Wonderland, or Through the Looking Glass. It didn't carry across in the Disney adaptation, but Alice really is a bit of a spoiled bitch.
There has been a resurgence of the jolly old low self esteem. I feel slow and stupid, and despite remembering that I've lost a significant amount of weight, and am still toning up every week, I feel fat and plain too on the really bad days. I'm ready to move on from the job I'm in, which leads to the question of whether I'm good enough to get a position anywhere that I would want to work. Would a lab that strikes me as cutting edge and high-powered, with nice people working there thrown in as a bonus, even consider taking me on as their associate?
The answer to this seems to be "yes". I got an email about the interview I had on Thursday, asking me to come in for a second interview with the big boss (who was out of town last week) and mentioning that she hopes I feel that this position is right for me too...
Whew.
Another interview, with the Vice-Chancellor of the Pathology Dept. Or is it Vice-Chancellor of Neurobio...? Either way, I'm getting interviewed by a Vice Chancellor Good thing I own a second pair of smart pants.
My parents are coming in to town on Thursday, I suspect I will show them my apartment for about five minutes and then go to bed! Thank Heavens Friday is a holiday, I will be able to show them around town a little and relax from the chaos that started with the phone message last monday asking me to contact the Neuro/Path lab for an interview.
I still haven't varnished these darn chairs.
I seem to have spent the last couple of weeks scurrying about thinking "I'm late I'm late"...or something along those lines. There haven't been too many instances of random potions and cakes instructing me to drink or eat them, which is good since my appetite has gone through the roof (probably the result of a drastic decrease in smoke inhilation) and I'm sure I would just blithely follow instructions and end up oscillating back and forth between ten foot two and three inches tall.
The Alice analagy also holds up with my mood, I've been extraordinarily touchy recently, just like so many of the characters in Wonderland, or Through the Looking Glass. It didn't carry across in the Disney adaptation, but Alice really is a bit of a spoiled bitch.
There has been a resurgence of the jolly old low self esteem. I feel slow and stupid, and despite remembering that I've lost a significant amount of weight, and am still toning up every week, I feel fat and plain too on the really bad days. I'm ready to move on from the job I'm in, which leads to the question of whether I'm good enough to get a position anywhere that I would want to work. Would a lab that strikes me as cutting edge and high-powered, with nice people working there thrown in as a bonus, even consider taking me on as their associate?
The answer to this seems to be "yes". I got an email about the interview I had on Thursday, asking me to come in for a second interview with the big boss (who was out of town last week) and mentioning that she hopes I feel that this position is right for me too...
Whew.
Another interview, with the Vice-Chancellor of the Pathology Dept. Or is it Vice-Chancellor of Neurobio...? Either way, I'm getting interviewed by a Vice Chancellor Good thing I own a second pair of smart pants.
My parents are coming in to town on Thursday, I suspect I will show them my apartment for about five minutes and then go to bed! Thank Heavens Friday is a holiday, I will be able to show them around town a little and relax from the chaos that started with the phone message last monday asking me to contact the Neuro/Path lab for an interview.
I still haven't varnished these darn chairs.
Thursday, March 20, 2003
Wednesday, March 19, 2003
While I'm at it, listing everything that is making me busy this week, I'll add in the highly probable appearance of a Monica on my horizons on Friday, the most concrete arrival of my parents in LA today, followed by their descent to San Diego a week from tomorrow...and have I mentioned that I really need to vacuum? And do the kitchen and bathroom floors? Oh, and varnish the chairs too...
Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me.
Why yes, I did have coffee this morning, how did you ever guess?
Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me. Nobody will care about the carpet fuzzies but me.
Why yes, I did have coffee this morning, how did you ever guess?
Whoah!
A nice restful do-nothing (and not feel bad about it) weekend turned into a very busy and productive beginning of the week. Not to mention the first week where I haven't been fried and ready for an extra day's sleep by Tuesday evening.
Yesterday I made some big steps towards putting my financial house in order, such as signing up for online banking, transferring the data into Quicken on my computer, going through and assigning categories to most transactions, tweaking how it's all categorised to suit me...basically playing with a new techno-toy. Now I have a pie chart telling me exactly what percentage of my takehome gets spent in cafes, and how much goes to karate, the statistical analysis possibilities are endless. Hopefully it'll help me budget and save more effectively too.
I also found the website where I can manage my work benefits, and, in the process of finally setting up my 403(b), I discovered that I already have a tax-exempt savings type thingy through UCSD. A compulsory one that all UC employees automatically have built in their names (and deducted from their paychecks). Thank heavens for compulsory automatic deductions, now I don't feel like quite such a wastrel for waiting almost 18 months to set up my retirement scheme.
A voicemail on Monday, and a conversation yesterday are also providing much busy-ness for the next 48 hours, a bit stressful, but overall a very positive thing, and I'm not going to jinx it by publishing any more information. It's just another jigsaw piece.
A nice restful do-nothing (and not feel bad about it) weekend turned into a very busy and productive beginning of the week. Not to mention the first week where I haven't been fried and ready for an extra day's sleep by Tuesday evening.
Yesterday I made some big steps towards putting my financial house in order, such as signing up for online banking, transferring the data into Quicken on my computer, going through and assigning categories to most transactions, tweaking how it's all categorised to suit me...basically playing with a new techno-toy. Now I have a pie chart telling me exactly what percentage of my takehome gets spent in cafes, and how much goes to karate, the statistical analysis possibilities are endless. Hopefully it'll help me budget and save more effectively too.
I also found the website where I can manage my work benefits, and, in the process of finally setting up my 403(b), I discovered that I already have a tax-exempt savings type thingy through UCSD. A compulsory one that all UC employees automatically have built in their names (and deducted from their paychecks). Thank heavens for compulsory automatic deductions, now I don't feel like quite such a wastrel for waiting almost 18 months to set up my retirement scheme.
A voicemail on Monday, and a conversation yesterday are also providing much busy-ness for the next 48 hours, a bit stressful, but overall a very positive thing, and I'm not going to jinx it by publishing any more information. It's just another jigsaw piece.
Monday, March 10, 2003
We Were Wildly Idle All Weekend...
Matt and I swapped undisclosed locations this weekend. Well, I disclosed the location before we set out, but only to check if he was up for a 2-3 hour drive at either end. He took me to the beach in front of the Hotel Del on friday night so we could watch the waves without crazy hippies leaping around nearby fires and trying to borrow his guitar (as is usually the situation on Ocean Beach). Then on to our local cafe, where a very strange looking man (no eyebrows except for the one tattooed over one eye, and his eyes appeared to be completely black) was alternating between a banjo and a guitar, then we went home, where we planned on sitting about with lots of candles lit, but fell asleep on the futon instead. Yes, we are wild and crazy sleepy middle-aged 20-somethings.
Then on Saturday we headed for Idyllwild. There was SNOW! Granite boulders, redwood trees, California oaks, a little creek...and I have to get working, so I can't write any more. But it was lovely, my pants didn't survive the granite and thornbushes though. Or sliding down a slope (made up of said granite and thornbushes) on my ass...
Matt and I swapped undisclosed locations this weekend. Well, I disclosed the location before we set out, but only to check if he was up for a 2-3 hour drive at either end. He took me to the beach in front of the Hotel Del on friday night so we could watch the waves without crazy hippies leaping around nearby fires and trying to borrow his guitar (as is usually the situation on Ocean Beach). Then on to our local cafe, where a very strange looking man (no eyebrows except for the one tattooed over one eye, and his eyes appeared to be completely black) was alternating between a banjo and a guitar, then we went home, where we planned on sitting about with lots of candles lit, but fell asleep on the futon instead. Yes, we are wild and crazy sleepy middle-aged 20-somethings.
Then on Saturday we headed for Idyllwild. There was SNOW! Granite boulders, redwood trees, California oaks, a little creek...and I have to get working, so I can't write any more. But it was lovely, my pants didn't survive the granite and thornbushes though. Or sliding down a slope (made up of said granite and thornbushes) on my ass...
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
Nap-Time For Little Rosie...
Wow, I woke up today feeling a great need for further sleep, and decided to call in sick, then I didn't surface to conciousness again until after noon had been and gone. I guess I really did need that nap.
I think I've reached, or maybe just left, the far end of the counter-swing to my depression. I went from despondancy and not caring about anything, to taking a bunch of incedentals waaaaay too seriously, and paid for it with a month of on and off migraines and finally some monumental back tension. The massage I had on saturday helped that, but not until it had also provided me with some new and interesting aches of it's own, primarily from the high tension and all the "toxins" being released. There were probably a lot of those pesky toxins now I come to think of it, I have a pretty healthy diet, but I supplement it with a variety of metabolic poisons such as caffiene, alcohol, and nicotene, not to mention the toxic effects of stress, fear, and other emotional body-busters. I have an image of rivers of radioactive green toxins being released from my muscles and connective tissues and running riot through my circulatory system, until they either resettle into new posiitons or get flushed out by the stupid amounts of water I have been drinking since Saturday.
Now I'm eying up my second bowl of home-made raspberry mocha.
Fear not, this isn't me ignoring my own observations of the effects of metabolic poisons, I truly am turning over a new leaf. Smoking has been drastically reduced, and water intake is on the increase. I'm spending less time stressing over life, and more time paying attention to leading it, and fixing the problems. This site gets to see my continuted panics, because that's how I stop them from bouncing around the inside of my skull and get them out of the way so I can get on with things IRL.
Wow, I woke up today feeling a great need for further sleep, and decided to call in sick, then I didn't surface to conciousness again until after noon had been and gone. I guess I really did need that nap.
I think I've reached, or maybe just left, the far end of the counter-swing to my depression. I went from despondancy and not caring about anything, to taking a bunch of incedentals waaaaay too seriously, and paid for it with a month of on and off migraines and finally some monumental back tension. The massage I had on saturday helped that, but not until it had also provided me with some new and interesting aches of it's own, primarily from the high tension and all the "toxins" being released. There were probably a lot of those pesky toxins now I come to think of it, I have a pretty healthy diet, but I supplement it with a variety of metabolic poisons such as caffiene, alcohol, and nicotene, not to mention the toxic effects of stress, fear, and other emotional body-busters. I have an image of rivers of radioactive green toxins being released from my muscles and connective tissues and running riot through my circulatory system, until they either resettle into new posiitons or get flushed out by the stupid amounts of water I have been drinking since Saturday.
Now I'm eying up my second bowl of home-made raspberry mocha.
Fear not, this isn't me ignoring my own observations of the effects of metabolic poisons, I truly am turning over a new leaf. Smoking has been drastically reduced, and water intake is on the increase. I'm spending less time stressing over life, and more time paying attention to leading it, and fixing the problems. This site gets to see my continuted panics, because that's how I stop them from bouncing around the inside of my skull and get them out of the way so I can get on with things IRL.
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
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 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.
Monday, February 24, 2003
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.
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.
Thursday, February 20, 2003
Monday, February 17, 2003
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.
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.
Saturday, February 15, 2003
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
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.
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.
Thursday, February 06, 2003
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
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.
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.
Friday, January 31, 2003
Always. Frequently. Sometimes. Rarely. Never.
Those are the options I'm given when I fill out the mandatory update form at my counsellor's office to see if I'm still dysfunctional enough to warrant treatment. My answers have improved (in the sense of the state of mental health they indicate) and the general gist has changed a lot over the months, leaning away from depression and tending more to anxiety. Maybe not the best of solutions, but I can make anxiety work for me a hell of a lot easier than depression.
I usually end up picking either "frequently" or "rarely", the only time I use "never" is in the questions relating to substance abuse, and I don't recall having used "always". It's so definitive, there's so few things that one can confidently apply it to. So I end up sounding like a noncomittal depressive. Anxiotic. Ummm... is there an "-ive" for people suffering from anxiety disorders?
My point is this: there is a world of difference between "never" and "rarely", and just as much of a world between "frequently" and "always". Imagine a friend who always, without exception, turns any situation to being about them and their difficulties, then imagine a friend who does it frequently, but there are still things that remain yours, or a third party's...you probably wouldn't remain around the former very long, but the latter could easily be a good friendship, as long as you can see past the self obsessive tendencies.
I realise that so many negative "never" and "always" things have been eliminated in my life, or downgraded to "rarely" and "frequently" or even the middle-ground "sometimes". On top of that I've gained many positive versions too. Yet sometimes I still focus on the occasional "never" that won't go away. Or the "rarely" that feels like it should be a "sometimes".
I feel as though I have all the right ingredients now, or nearly all. No, I take that back: the only remaining ingredients to be found are seasonings, garnish, the base is there. So I have all the right ingredients... I just need to adjust some of the proportions, or maybe my sense of proportion with regards to some ingredients. A litte more of this a little less of that. Change this one from a smidgen to a splash and that one from a chunk to a chip.
Good Gods, I'm talking in code. But it's mostly for my own benefit anyway, I know what I'm talking about, and by talking about it I've remembered that I really do have the right basic ingredients, and that's something I was nowhere near having a year and a half ago.
So hooray for investigative cooking in the game of life. Experimentation in the creative process of the confection that is my life. It's turning into a damn fine cake, I don't need to fret about the frosting really, it's not the most important part.
Those are the options I'm given when I fill out the mandatory update form at my counsellor's office to see if I'm still dysfunctional enough to warrant treatment. My answers have improved (in the sense of the state of mental health they indicate) and the general gist has changed a lot over the months, leaning away from depression and tending more to anxiety. Maybe not the best of solutions, but I can make anxiety work for me a hell of a lot easier than depression.
I usually end up picking either "frequently" or "rarely", the only time I use "never" is in the questions relating to substance abuse, and I don't recall having used "always". It's so definitive, there's so few things that one can confidently apply it to. So I end up sounding like a noncomittal depressive. Anxiotic. Ummm... is there an "-ive" for people suffering from anxiety disorders?
My point is this: there is a world of difference between "never" and "rarely", and just as much of a world between "frequently" and "always". Imagine a friend who always, without exception, turns any situation to being about them and their difficulties, then imagine a friend who does it frequently, but there are still things that remain yours, or a third party's...you probably wouldn't remain around the former very long, but the latter could easily be a good friendship, as long as you can see past the self obsessive tendencies.
I realise that so many negative "never" and "always" things have been eliminated in my life, or downgraded to "rarely" and "frequently" or even the middle-ground "sometimes". On top of that I've gained many positive versions too. Yet sometimes I still focus on the occasional "never" that won't go away. Or the "rarely" that feels like it should be a "sometimes".
I feel as though I have all the right ingredients now, or nearly all. No, I take that back: the only remaining ingredients to be found are seasonings, garnish, the base is there. So I have all the right ingredients... I just need to adjust some of the proportions, or maybe my sense of proportion with regards to some ingredients. A litte more of this a little less of that. Change this one from a smidgen to a splash and that one from a chunk to a chip.
Good Gods, I'm talking in code. But it's mostly for my own benefit anyway, I know what I'm talking about, and by talking about it I've remembered that I really do have the right basic ingredients, and that's something I was nowhere near having a year and a half ago.
So hooray for investigative cooking in the game of life. Experimentation in the creative process of the confection that is my life. It's turning into a damn fine cake, I don't need to fret about the frosting really, it's not the most important part.
Thursday, January 30, 2003
One nifty random thing I forgot to mention about the new Fluffcomp. When I signed up for the trial period of MSN explorer, it gave me a little icon for my account (and then a different one for Matt when I made him a user account), the icon it randomly assigned to me is a girl in a very Tang Soo Do-like uniform, in mid flying-side-kick. She even looks a little like Pinguino, I think it's an omen, though whether of happy computer usage or of a black belt in the future for me, I don't know.
Matt's icon is a pair of deck chairs on a beach, so clearly my computer isn't quite as good at guessing his identity.
I wish I had a vacation day to use tomorrow, I can console myself with the thought that my NEXT birthday will be on a Saturday. Matt picks up the keys to his new place tomorrow after work, so we will have a double celebration in the evening. We're going out for a proper meal and everything, all dressed up and stuff.
Matt's icon is a pair of deck chairs on a beach, so clearly my computer isn't quite as good at guessing his identity.
I wish I had a vacation day to use tomorrow, I can console myself with the thought that my NEXT birthday will be on a Saturday. Matt picks up the keys to his new place tomorrow after work, so we will have a double celebration in the evening. We're going out for a proper meal and everything, all dressed up and stuff.
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
*pirouettes around the bedroom*. Apartment. Same thing in my world really innit?
Let's just take a short break to wonder where the hell the word "innit" came from in my London-influenced subconcious.
OK, that's long enough.
This is solely to announce that I am now a web-enabled owner of an HP 523n Desktop. Boxtop currently, as it's sitting on top of it's own box until I get a desk for it to live on.
Let's just take a short break to wonder where the hell the word "innit" came from in my London-influenced subconcious.
OK, that's long enough.
This is solely to announce that I am now a web-enabled owner of an HP 523n Desktop. Boxtop currently, as it's sitting on top of it's own box until I get a desk for it to live on.
I suppose I'm glad I had my second depo shot on Friday, rather than on Monday as I'd planned, because then I would have had this migraine on my birthday. I realise that I've had many fewer migraines than usual since starting on this stuff, though it also coincides closely with leaving my last apartment, so I can't be sure it isn't change of environment leading to reduced stress.
This weekend, Gods willing, I may even get a computer. I have located my victim (an HP in case anyone's wondering) but I have to decide if it would add too much chaos to my apartment to bring in new machinery before the table project is completed. I need to get that thing varnished, so it can be used as well as admired. Having said that, I may just go and look at Circuit City tonight, see if they can offer me the same deal as HP online.
This weekend, Gods willing, I may even get a computer. I have located my victim (an HP in case anyone's wondering) but I have to decide if it would add too much chaos to my apartment to bring in new machinery before the table project is completed. I need to get that thing varnished, so it can be used as well as admired. Having said that, I may just go and look at Circuit City tonight, see if they can offer me the same deal as HP online.
Monday, January 27, 2003
We had one of those talks last night.
With anyone else those talks are a bad thing, full of tension and unspoken wants and resentments. With Matt...we sit and have a genial conversation about what we each like and dislike about our relationship. When I say dislike, it's really more a case of "Well I'd like a bit less of this and bit more of that, but that other thing you're worried about, doesn't bother me at all."
We do that every now and then, sit about objectively discussing our relationship. Talking about how it is rather comical that he's now going to be living a block (plus half a house) away from me, but that we're glad to be doing it this way, and we'll end up living together soon enough anyway. Talking about how it's surprising that both of us are happy being around each other all the time, that we don't get sick of each other, when we're both a little withdrawn and reclusive in general (yes I am, you just don't get to see it because when I'm being reclusive I'm, well, not there). We can talk about all these things without it being a game of trying to find the truth hidden in the heap of insinuations, because what we say to each other is what we mean. That level of truth and trust is something I doubted really existed before I met Matt, especially with the trends of all the people I've known through the years.
It's marvellous to me how we can talk about the supposedly big scary internal issues and it feels like a friendly chat over coffee. The most tense we get with each other is when one of us is worrying that the other isn't happy, and maybe it's something to do with "us". Then we touch base, look each other in the eye and say I am so lucky to have you, to have this friendship and love with you, everything else is better just because I have your face at the end of the day...
Life may not be any simpler because of it, but it feels like less of a monumental challenge to get on with it now.
With anyone else those talks are a bad thing, full of tension and unspoken wants and resentments. With Matt...we sit and have a genial conversation about what we each like and dislike about our relationship. When I say dislike, it's really more a case of "Well I'd like a bit less of this and bit more of that, but that other thing you're worried about, doesn't bother me at all."
We do that every now and then, sit about objectively discussing our relationship. Talking about how it is rather comical that he's now going to be living a block (plus half a house) away from me, but that we're glad to be doing it this way, and we'll end up living together soon enough anyway. Talking about how it's surprising that both of us are happy being around each other all the time, that we don't get sick of each other, when we're both a little withdrawn and reclusive in general (yes I am, you just don't get to see it because when I'm being reclusive I'm, well, not there). We can talk about all these things without it being a game of trying to find the truth hidden in the heap of insinuations, because what we say to each other is what we mean. That level of truth and trust is something I doubted really existed before I met Matt, especially with the trends of all the people I've known through the years.
It's marvellous to me how we can talk about the supposedly big scary internal issues and it feels like a friendly chat over coffee. The most tense we get with each other is when one of us is worrying that the other isn't happy, and maybe it's something to do with "us". Then we touch base, look each other in the eye and say I am so lucky to have you, to have this friendship and love with you, everything else is better just because I have your face at the end of the day...
Life may not be any simpler because of it, but it feels like less of a monumental challenge to get on with it now.
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
And another thing...
I'm also getting back into the swing of cooking, something I had been out of practice doing for several months by the time I moved, and it's not just cooking for myself, it's for two of us, with someone else's tastes and preferences to consider. This will get much less stressful once it has passed into the realms of routine, and when I learn to ask for more help.
That last statment probably applies a great deal to my life in general.
I'm also getting back into the swing of cooking, something I had been out of practice doing for several months by the time I moved, and it's not just cooking for myself, it's for two of us, with someone else's tastes and preferences to consider. This will get much less stressful once it has passed into the realms of routine, and when I learn to ask for more help.
That last statment probably applies a great deal to my life in general.
Coffee, more coffee please...
I'm waiting for it to be 9am, so I can call and make an extra appointment to ask a woman who has seen the inside of my head why I still weep in my sleep when I think that I'm happy. Why I feel sick and wracked with misery, but have not the faintest idea why, because if you ask me, I'm happy. All the reasons that come to mind seem so ineffectual. "I don't love my job, I don't hate it, but it's frustrating in a way I'm ready to be rid of" "It's January, I always get blue in January" "He was away for two weeks and it sucked, so now he's back I'm crying about it" "I'm stressing about money because I've bought so much furniture this month" "My apartment is in huge disarray because of said furniture being mid-assembly"
Maybe (yet again) it's E: all of the above. Combined little factors making me stressed out, but stress isn't supposed to have this effect. This is closer to depressed for me, but it doesn't feel like depression, it isn't as heavy somehow.
I think I didn't expect the crying fits to be one of the things that would hang around after I'd faced up to myself, I expected the leftovers to be occasional flashbacks, a continued inability to hear some stories or kinds of jokes, the need to leave the room at certain points in movies. All I could think of this morning was that Matt had lain awake almost all night hearing me weep, wondering what was wrong, and he still reached over and touched my cheek, kissed my shoulder and held me tight as though I wasn't scaring him. It would terrify me, hearing him cry out and not being able to do anything to soothe him.
Now I'm remembering something I told him the weekend we went to Kern County, I'd been having the same problems then, barely making it through the day without collapsing somewhere to cry, but that was because of the build up of tension in my old apartment, and the fact that I hadn't told him much about my problems with depression and I was starting to feel dishonest. I told him that it's almost like an epileptic fit sometimes, I'll just suddenly be crying and feeling like shit, and there won't be a reason. That the best thing he can do is to hold my hand and let me ride it out.
Wow, it's 9.30 already, and I've almost figured it out all by myself. I'm still going to make the appointment though, that's what she's there for.
This has to go away, I won't allow it to be a permanent fixture. Maybe when the magical day comes that there is no drama (yeah right...), there will also be no freakouts. It's ok if it's just me, it's bad having Matt affected by it, but I keep getting this image of a little kid peeking around a doorway to see me sobbing in my bedroom, just like I saw my sister crying inconsolably when she was 16 and I was 7, it didn't traumatise me, but I still remember it. I don't want to be that woman, I don't want to make that kind of memory for my children.
I'm waiting for it to be 9am, so I can call and make an extra appointment to ask a woman who has seen the inside of my head why I still weep in my sleep when I think that I'm happy. Why I feel sick and wracked with misery, but have not the faintest idea why, because if you ask me, I'm happy. All the reasons that come to mind seem so ineffectual. "I don't love my job, I don't hate it, but it's frustrating in a way I'm ready to be rid of" "It's January, I always get blue in January" "He was away for two weeks and it sucked, so now he's back I'm crying about it" "I'm stressing about money because I've bought so much furniture this month" "My apartment is in huge disarray because of said furniture being mid-assembly"
Maybe (yet again) it's E: all of the above. Combined little factors making me stressed out, but stress isn't supposed to have this effect. This is closer to depressed for me, but it doesn't feel like depression, it isn't as heavy somehow.
I think I didn't expect the crying fits to be one of the things that would hang around after I'd faced up to myself, I expected the leftovers to be occasional flashbacks, a continued inability to hear some stories or kinds of jokes, the need to leave the room at certain points in movies. All I could think of this morning was that Matt had lain awake almost all night hearing me weep, wondering what was wrong, and he still reached over and touched my cheek, kissed my shoulder and held me tight as though I wasn't scaring him. It would terrify me, hearing him cry out and not being able to do anything to soothe him.
Now I'm remembering something I told him the weekend we went to Kern County, I'd been having the same problems then, barely making it through the day without collapsing somewhere to cry, but that was because of the build up of tension in my old apartment, and the fact that I hadn't told him much about my problems with depression and I was starting to feel dishonest. I told him that it's almost like an epileptic fit sometimes, I'll just suddenly be crying and feeling like shit, and there won't be a reason. That the best thing he can do is to hold my hand and let me ride it out.
Wow, it's 9.30 already, and I've almost figured it out all by myself. I'm still going to make the appointment though, that's what she's there for.
This has to go away, I won't allow it to be a permanent fixture. Maybe when the magical day comes that there is no drama (yeah right...), there will also be no freakouts. It's ok if it's just me, it's bad having Matt affected by it, but I keep getting this image of a little kid peeking around a doorway to see me sobbing in my bedroom, just like I saw my sister crying inconsolably when she was 16 and I was 7, it didn't traumatise me, but I still remember it. I don't want to be that woman, I don't want to make that kind of memory for my children.
Friday, January 17, 2003
Tonight's going to be fun, starting with an emergency trip to the airport to ensure Radiskull's passage to Berkeley is achived in a timely manner, followed by grocery shopping, table shopping (and chairs and wood stain and brushes shopping), cooking, eating, tidying, hanging out with Bob, packing up a minimalist waffle-making kit to take to La Mesa and finishing off with a second trip to the airport to collect a sleepy, frostbitten and homesick Matt.
OK so he's not actually frostbitten, but he has got an injured toe, so I took creative liscence.
Funny thing is, the prospect of all this isn't stressful, or overwhelming, or anything along those lines. Sometimes it's really great to zoom about getting things done, and it's all in the name of good causes. Causes like friends going home, eating curry, owning a table (and chairs and wood stain and brushes...) bringing waffly goodness to one much in need of home-cooking, and getting Matt back in San Diego. Especially the last one.
Happy Friday everyone, keep your fingers crossed for miraculously light traffic on 5 South.
OK so he's not actually frostbitten, but he has got an injured toe, so I took creative liscence.
Funny thing is, the prospect of all this isn't stressful, or overwhelming, or anything along those lines. Sometimes it's really great to zoom about getting things done, and it's all in the name of good causes. Causes like friends going home, eating curry, owning a table (and chairs and wood stain and brushes...) bringing waffly goodness to one much in need of home-cooking, and getting Matt back in San Diego. Especially the last one.
Happy Friday everyone, keep your fingers crossed for miraculously light traffic on 5 South.
Tuesday, January 14, 2003
Three days to go!
It is also my Mum's birthday tomorrow, I hope I remember to call her before I go to work.
The trip up to LA was a great success, I feel more relaxed there now for some reason, maybe it's that I'm feeling less and less like a strange intrusion into my Californian family's life. Aunt Susan plotting an impromptu early birthday lunch for me was so sweet, she explained it by "well, we never do anything for you Rosie", which is typical Susan logic, and completely untrue if yo ask me, they are always warm and open, welcoming to me simply because I'm family. They're proud of me for what I've accomplished, though is seems so little to me, and even if they know of the more spectacular failures and mistakes (Granny at the very least must have figured some of it out) it doesn't seem to factor in.
What's more, they gave me a waffle iron, so they must love me!
Being up in LA also enabled me to forget that Matt is currently on the other side of the country, even though he called to tell me about exploring many historical sites over there with his Mom.
Soon I won't have to worry about that though, because he'll be home and I'll be feeding him waffles until he pleads for mercy. Between December and January we'll have had a whole month apart, thankfully we had a week in the middle of it to regroup, store up snuggles, and exchange yule gifts.
Friday, January 10, 2003
That's the last time I read a novel containing a powerful love story while my partner is away. Last night I wanted to turn to Matt and show him the things in the story that I feel we also have, and talk about how we have it so much better than the star-crossed lovers in my book. As it was I had to keep these things to myself and ended up dwelling on the other theme of the book, which was the debate over whether something has to endure to be worthy, and if so, then is anything worth it, because our lives are all so temporary anyway... I had a night of very strange dreams, the internal motivations of which I can't begin to figure out, but it was kind of part of an old running theme so I'm not going to try to dissect it too hard.
I'm a little ashamed of myself for calling him at 5am PST to announce that I couldn't sleep and I missed him, while he sat in class, I was also highly incoherant as my mouth wasn't nearly so awake as my overactive imagination. It's the only such incident in over nine months, so it's not a bad average, and maybe it'll teach him to talk to me the next time he's sleepless with homework anxiety, instead of letting me sleep and driving himself quietly crazy.
Ho-hum, he'll be back in a week, refilling the Matt-shaped hole he left behind in my life and hopefully helping me paint my table. The design for which I suppose I should try to figure out this weekend, I'll take my notebook and William Morris samples up to LA with me when I visit Granny. Along with my poor neglected guitar, I want to have some beginnings of calluses on my fingertips to show off by next week.
On the grander theme of permanence, my take on it is that continuity isn't the be-all and end-all of what is wonderful in this life, because we are constantly in transit. A love doesn't have to last a lifetime to be considered a "true" love, and often things achieve more meaning by being transiently beautiful, as it makes you focus in every moment of it's presence. This attitude may be due to the fact that I've never had to live through a great loss, I've seen the grief it causes up close and personal, in my family and friends, but not in myself. There has been one great loss of my own, but I didn't recognise it as such at the time, and by the time I realised I was in need of mourning I was already aware of how much I had gained as a side-effect of that loss. So much so that the departure of what had been taken from me seemed rather insignificant in the end. I still light a candle in my mind for my younger self every spring, but it is the echoes of loss in others that makes me wonder what it will be like when it is my turn to carry a flame of memory for a loved one lost.
I'm a little ashamed of myself for calling him at 5am PST to announce that I couldn't sleep and I missed him, while he sat in class, I was also highly incoherant as my mouth wasn't nearly so awake as my overactive imagination. It's the only such incident in over nine months, so it's not a bad average, and maybe it'll teach him to talk to me the next time he's sleepless with homework anxiety, instead of letting me sleep and driving himself quietly crazy.
Ho-hum, he'll be back in a week, refilling the Matt-shaped hole he left behind in my life and hopefully helping me paint my table. The design for which I suppose I should try to figure out this weekend, I'll take my notebook and William Morris samples up to LA with me when I visit Granny. Along with my poor neglected guitar, I want to have some beginnings of calluses on my fingertips to show off by next week.
On the grander theme of permanence, my take on it is that continuity isn't the be-all and end-all of what is wonderful in this life, because we are constantly in transit. A love doesn't have to last a lifetime to be considered a "true" love, and often things achieve more meaning by being transiently beautiful, as it makes you focus in every moment of it's presence. This attitude may be due to the fact that I've never had to live through a great loss, I've seen the grief it causes up close and personal, in my family and friends, but not in myself. There has been one great loss of my own, but I didn't recognise it as such at the time, and by the time I realised I was in need of mourning I was already aware of how much I had gained as a side-effect of that loss. So much so that the departure of what had been taken from me seemed rather insignificant in the end. I still light a candle in my mind for my younger self every spring, but it is the echoes of loss in others that makes me wonder what it will be like when it is my turn to carry a flame of memory for a loved one lost.
Tuesday, January 07, 2003
I am still alive.
Just in case anyone was wondering.
Work = meh, but that's usually the case.
Friends = great.
Flat = home for sure.
Family = too far away but spectacular cooks and good company to boot.
Matt = away. This sucks, but will soon be rectified by his return from the business trip to Snowdonia. *wink
Life = good, real and unfluffy in places, but excellent over all.
Love = see above, section "Matt"
Just in case anyone was wondering.
Work = meh, but that's usually the case.
Friends = great.
Flat = home for sure.
Family = too far away but spectacular cooks and good company to boot.
Matt = away. This sucks, but will soon be rectified by his return from the business trip to Snowdonia. *wink
Life = good, real and unfluffy in places, but excellent over all.
Love = see above, section "Matt"
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