Confessions

* I have been using air quotes way too frequently. I'll throw them into conversation, realize what I'm doing, and start mumbling about how I'm such a loser. I ususally just blame it on the brain tumor, which is a handy and fitting excuse for incidents involving falling down, running into walls, sober slurring of speech, eye rolling, rambling, dropping things, and inexplicably spastic behavior.

* I began writing an entry entitled "All Good Obsessions Must Come to an End or I've Got Issues, Yes I do, I've Got Issues, How 'Bout You?," after a dark day during which I had an accidential run-in with moldy turkey pepperoni. I was convinced that the mere sight of it would end turkey pepperoni's role as an almost daily diet staple for the past three years. Pepperoni loses enough appeal when one takes the time to consider that it is composed of bits and pieces of the junky, garbage meat that might not even be good enough for hot dogs, so I figured the fungus frosted version would be enough to put me over the edge. I started lamenting my loss, but the grieving period was short. I don't think I even lasted two days before buying another bag. I couldn't figure out what to eat in its absense. I am either less or more crazy than I had thought, depending on how you look at it.

* Reading the Elmira College Review makes me feel depressed. No joke. Maybe some of those people are liars . . . or at least embellishers. Maybe I am just a hopeless slacker.

* It'd be nice if brains came equipped with mute buttons.

* I am half convinced that the weather dictates my moods.

* I am highly embarrassed to admit this, but I secretly kind of like the new (well, recycled) legging trend. I have no explanation or excuse. Maybe some portion of my subconscious longs to be kindred spirits with Lindsay Lohan. God help me.

* In potentially even more disturbing news, I sometimes find myself thinking Taylor Hicks is all kinds of sexy.

* I am wondering if the reason I am so drawn to Hamlet is because we both suffer from the same fatal flaw - an inability to act. He capably grasps what he needs to do, yet agonizes over actually carrying through with it for forever and meets his demise as a result. He is crafty and intelligent and seemingly capable, but he is stuck . . . entrapped by his own mind, really. It has always seemed to be one the lamer tragic hero issues out there, but it's also more complicated and layered and realistic.

I Like it Like That

I'm back! It's nice to re-enter the world of the communicative after a lengthy enough hiatus. I am attempting to make myself start writing something (anything, really) again, but it is hard for me to find a starting point. (Shocking, I know . . .) To kick it off, I am going to go the easy route and list some things I rather like at the moment.

* Grey's Anatomy

I adore this show. It's well-written and well-acted, with a nice balance of hilarious and sober moments. And I wouldn't mind playing doctor with Sheppard or George . . .

* James Blunt, Back to Bedlam

I listen to this cd on an almost daily basis, during my work breaks and while I work out. While most of the songs would be what most people would consider to be the antithesis of motivating work out music, I just can't help myself. I like every song on the cd (which I find to be a rarity)and I love most of them. (And it should be noted that You're Beautiful is probably the worst song on the album.) He's talented, he's British, he's rather attractive . . . Terry is going to see him in concert in Japan, and she intends to convince him to marry her.

* AdvantEdge Carb Control French Vanilla Shakes

These have become a huge staple in my diet. I may be obsessed. They have 100 calories and 15 grams of protein. They don't taste too weird, though the color is a rather offputting muddy yellowish brownish cream. It must be the soy . . . Regardless, I've never found such a harmless way to supplement my protein intake. I drink them for lunch, before work-outs, when I wake up in the middle of the night . . . I buy them in bulk and actually start to get panicky when my local grocery store runs out of them (which should be impossible because I can't imagine too many people around here are stockpiling them, but it has happened.) Then I have to ration them until the shelves are someday restocked or I can secure a trip to Wal-Mart (which is no easy feat in these parts, as it's 12 miles away, my car is currently broken, and I don't have an abundance of free time.)

* Psychotherapy Clothing

I'm sure some of the others would probably be fitting, depending on the day, though I'd shy away from some of the heavier labels. I doubt I'd suggest walking around in a shirt proclaiming one's tendency to hear voices or shamelessly start fires, but to each his own, I guess. I kind of appreciate the the entire idea, though. It's similar (though more self-depracating and silly) to the man in Aimee Bender's An Invisible Sign of my Own who wore a number around his neck each day which was indicative of his current level of happiness. The best part of the whole deal is that you can send shirts to other people anonymously

* Elliott Yamin

He is my current American Idol favorite. To sum him up, he is a 1/2 deaf type 1 diabetic with unfortunate teeth who sings well, cries, and gives lots of hugs. Plus, the judges aren't trying to manipulate the public into voting for him (probably because they think he's too ugly or something because they are cool like that). Additionally, I love his name. If I do end up having kids someday, my new boy names are Eliot and Auden, after T. S. Eliot and W. H. Auden. I explained to the girls at work that I would want my sons to be sensitive thinkers. They explained to me that my kids will get beat up often.

* the long shirt trend

This is the nicest thing the fashion industry has ever done for people like me. I finally have some shirts that extend beyond the entire length of my stomach and hit at my hips. It is a lovely, lovely feeling.

* 43 Things

I stumbled upon this site through Allison's blog. Simply stated, it allows you to make a list of up to 43 things you want to do with your life. You can find other people who have similar goals and intentions and presumably make friends or find accountability partners, I guess. I'm more interested in just merely figuring out my ambitions, from the seemingly insignficant to the likely unrealistic. It's a good way to force myself to think about being proactive about my life, rather than allowing myself to stagnantly exist. Suggestions are always appreciated.

A (Couple of) Day(s) in the Life

I haven't done a very good job of keeping this thing updated, but I'm going to make great attempts to be more consistent.

Thoughts/Observations/Updates (I apologize for the lack of central theme or anything especially interesting. It happens.)

I've made it through 5 weeks at the new job. I am feeling much more comfortable there and a lot less stupid, though there are still some things I am uncertain about. I think I may be solidifying my spot as the person with the least common sense to ever work there, though. (I think I can claim this position in just about any group of people I am placed in.) Many have witnessed me struggle with pulling down/putting up the blinds in my window on multiple occasions. (Apparently, pulling the string to either the right or left will make the blinds lock at the top or fall down. I had no idea there was a system involved.) Other simple tasks that I have failed to master include, but are not limited to, loading paper into the old school printer, loading tape into a calculator, changing staples on a humongous stapler, and figuring out how to restart my computer and phone after I accidentially unplugged them. I think it takes some talent to be this clueless about ridiculously simple tasks.

I like my job because I get to use stickers and highlighters and vary my writing style. Sometimes I play a game in my head where I try to mimic the handwriting of the last person who wrote in the chart. There is quite a variety, as I am apparently the 19th person hired to work in the front office in the last couple of years.

I think this job is good for me because mistakes are inevitable. They are certainly to be avoided at all costs, but they do happen. I have made them, and the world hasn't ended. There is no time to focus on making something look perfect or sound perfect because there is so much going on. Sometimes, you stumble over your words on the phone and sound like a bit of an idiot. Sometimes patients get mad and call you stupid. Scheduling errors sometimes occur. Ultimately, there is no time to berate yourself for looking/sounding/being stupid. I think it's an excellent type of workplace for me right now. I find myself feeling less anxious in a more hectic and high-pressure environment. Go figure.

I have been sick since Sunday. Just a cold, but it definitely sucked at first. It felt like a small child was sitting on my lungs for the first couple of days. Tylenol Cold actually works, and I now recommend it. Of course, people at works weren't especially pleased to have a sneezing and coughing person in their presence, and it was made clear that I was not to infect anyone else. Um, okay. I don't think I did, so I guess I win. I kept waking up last night with coughing fits, which was a blast. I caught Murphy Brown and half of Who's the Boss on Nick@Nite from 3:00 - 3:45. I don't know why they put the decent shows on at ridiculous hours. My mother is convinced that this cold was only supposed to last 3 days, so she keeps asking me if I've been taking my vitamins.

Kickboxing has been going on for a month, and I haven't skipped yet. I intend to stick it out to the end this time, even though it is brutal. There are only around 10 people who come to class, which is a whole lot less than the norm. So we dutifully show up, and she tries to kill us. We do a ridiculous number of squats, and I make mean faces at her. It's definitely a workout, and I do feel accomplished when we're finished. If you've ever attempted to do Tai Bo with me and find yourself curious about my punching abilities, yes, I still throw somewhat wimpy punches. I'm a hardcore kicker, though.

Every Wednesday night, I find myself feeling envious of Lost watchers.

I have been trying to figure out which type of old person I will be. The broad categorizations seem to be grumpy, cute, or crazy, though some people might manage to transcend the boundaries and fall into more than one. I'm thinking I will be a crazy, and I love it. I will hopefully be an endearing crazy and not a batshit crazy. I guess I am making progress, as I never wanted to live to be old before. But the prospect of being an eccentric and entertaining old lady has me half convinced.

I hate the state of Oregon because someone there won the ridiculously huge Powerball and I didn't.

Some girls at work started doing the Atkins diet this week. I guess they don't know that low-carb is so a year and a half ago. The new trend is to eat whole grains, according to Self or Fitness or some similar magazine. I think I might believe it, too, because I saw whole grain Chips Ahoy in Wal-Mart the other day. I bet they taste super. I personally don't believe that whole grains really aid in weight loss efforts, but they do seem healthy. So if health is truly your goal, jump on the latest bandwagon, gals. Anyway, I think low-carb diets are dumb in the long run, but maybe it is because I am weak willed. To each his own. So whenever I am asked if I am going to join in, I supress the urge to roll my eyes and profess my love for bread. White bread, at that. And beer. I'm such a rebel.

I miss my friends.

Attention All Chubby Chasers

Three weeks ago, I came to the unfortunate realization that I managed to gain 7 lbs in one month. I'm pretty sure this takes some major talent. (Or possibly a bum thyroid, but I'm fairly certain my diet of dunkin donuts, kit kats, and pizza might be the true culprit.) I talk about the weight gain nonchalantly, and I guess I have a positive enough attitude about it. My clothes still fit and people give me confused looks and tell me they don't believe it when it comes up in casual conversation. (I have well-documented proof, damn it!) The gain has only brought me back up to my body's apparent "set-weight," if one believes in such a thing . . . a comfortable enough place where I either have to consciously eat way too much or diet rigorously to enact major changes. (And hey, if I were to have enough money/humility/self-control to join weight watchers, I would get two extra points from the get go.)

I'd like to not care, to roll with it and accept what happens. However, I seem to feel the need to possess a quantifiable goal in my life at the moment, and I can't come up with anything better than losing the weight/becoming thin/blahblahblah. Seriously, it gets old. I am sickened by the almost universal obsession with thinness purported by American women. I mean, really, what the hell does it matter? There are about 10 women who work in my office, who range from rather thin to moderately overweight, and one of the most prevalent types of nonwork-related conversations seems to constantly involve eating vs. not eating, liposuction vs. cellulite, good food vs. bad food, etc. I have only been there for two weeks, and I can't even count how many times I have been praised for being "good" and avoiding the cookies/bagels/cake/candy/take out. Yeah, I'm so good for skimping on lunch (usually because I am just too busy/stressed/poor to eat all that much while I am there). So good, in fact, that I still see a dietician once a month and have shitty skin and ruined teeth. Don't get me wrong. I harbor no malicious feelings toward these people or women in general. It's clearly not just a localized issue. It seems as though one can walk into any random grouping of women and encounter a similar situation. And I, admittedly, jump right in and contribute to the body-loathing/food categorizing efforts more often than not. I am certainly knowledgable in the subject matter. It is just somewhat jarring when it appears that I have a seemingly better attitude toward food than so many "normal" women. I don't know. Ideally, my notion of "good" involves a healthy-sized someone who eats a normal-sized lunch and then grabs a cookie unapologetically. A woman whose conversations reflect her intelligence and interests, rather than her insecurities. And, yes, I realize I am coming off as more than slightly hypocritical in this argument, but I am thankful for the small moments of insight and disappointment. At the very least, a less quantifiable, but ultimately more satisfying goal lies ahead.