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.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
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.
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