baggy pants and golden turtlenecks

Even if I don't feel like an adult, I can't deny that a depressingly adult issue is weight. Weight creeps up on people. Think about it; kids run around outside playing. (Okay, maybe not kids today, but they did in the 90s/00s.) And then in high school there's gym class and sports teams. Then sometime in college your kid metabolism abandons you and you come out 30 pounds heavier. 

cricket

Or was it just me? Since college I've lost 25 of those pounds, so I'm not chubby anymore. Yay! I might be in denial about being an adult mentally and having to pay actual bills, but physically I'm not. Only because I worked to lose 25 pounds. By contrast, blimping up was easy. I didn't have to try. I didn't even realize I'd done it until I looked in the mirror one day (why that day was different than all the other days that came before it, I will never know). If only other accomplishments in life were achieved so easily. I mean, people called me "huggable." I even I had a whole chubby wardrobe; unfortunately, by the time I shrunk back all my other clothes were outdated. No one wears baggy pants and turtlenecks anymore.

I swear I had that shirt. Yeah, that's Ving Rhames in Pulp Fiction (1994).

I love how frank the male half of the population is about weight. This guy on TV said that his gut was the first part of him to walk through the door. Yeah, those aren't words that come out of the average female's mouth. He was completely fine with his body at that moment, gut and all. I love how, generally, guys are so comfortable in their bodies. Is it the testosterone? Teenage boys are especially in love with themselves. It's like cockiness peaks in guys at that age. I've always found teenage boys hilarious. The ways in which they praise themselves constantly are so inventive. Guys in their 20s are entertaining too, but they've learned to not talk quite so much trash, at least in front of women. I guess in the end, I'm saying that I really enjoy the male half of society, and I wish women could be as brash and cocky about their hot bods.

Tomorrow I pack.

don't go changing... to try and please me...

I've put them off long enough. It's time to stop stalling. It's time to do my taxes. At least this year I only worked in one state. I live in a commonwealth state, so federal, state, township taxes lie in front of me. My reward will be doing my hair while watching episodes 15 of this.

I read Mimi Alford's autobiography, all about how she had an affair with JFK in 1962, which no one is surprised about because several women were having affairs with him. I'm to young to have experienced the whole JFK allure. I read this book for an alternate perspective. Women are quick to blame other women in affairs. You know - he was a pig, but she should have known better. This infidelity is expected of men, and the woman gets labelled a slut. Unless this means that the fact that men are sluts is so obvious we don't need to say it, I take issue with this particular attitude towards women. I don't think men are sluts. JFK, yes, but he wasn't most men. I like to believe most people can't compartmentalize their lives to the degree that they can handle being married, multiple affairs, working 24/7, and still keep each woman unaware of the others. So what I'm saying is after reading this book, general distaste for JFK as a person. Hmm, did Jackie O write an autobiography? I need another perspective.

Jackie O

I'm stressed out by the need to defer the PhD schools for at least a year. I feel like I'm disappointing a part of myself. After speaking on the phone to the first school, I got a great feeling about living there and participating in the program. After speaking on the phone with the second school, I feel sick. Like I'm making the wrong decision by electing to work instead for a year. And now I've discovered my taxes are more complicated than I thought.

i'll tell you the ways i try to escape

I've let stress run my life, meaning that when I'm not doing paperwork or confronting difficult life decisions, I choose total escapism. Through books of course. I swear, I've read a book a day for the past week. These are by no means what I would consider good books. A good book isn't can't be skimmed or speed read. A good book forces me to accustom myself to the pace of a different world. No good books this week, I've been searching for the perfect light rom-com novel, which is surprisingly hard. Not since Jennifer Crusie have I found a so-called "romance" author who doesn't waste words with needless description and write cringe-worthy bedroom scenes. I'm all about good dialogue.

I watched a 6 episode British series called My Mad Fat Diary (2013). Most girls/women relate to body image issues, and everyone who's lived through their teenage years can relate to teenage issues (boys, clothes, friends, boys, frenemies, music, sex, boys). The show is set in 1996, which gives it extra points, even though that meant I had to google some of the references. I pronounce MMFD the second best British television show I've ever seen, surpassed only by the first two seasons of Misfits (2009); Misfits wins for sheer cheek/shock value/dialogue/plot.

Today I stepped away from total escapism and managed (after I read an entire book) to go for a jog. I took along the dog, who entertained me by failing spectacularly at chasing deer. Short jog, so I added on sprint drills. It's rare that I actually run. It feels good.

freak out! le freak c'est chic

I asked for February to be a roller coaster month (see here), and I got my wish. Thank you, God. I ask for plenty of other things and don't get them, but I got this one. I have decisions to make. I have options. I'm freaking out because good things happened to me - not because bad things happened, or because no things happened.

My dilemma - After weeks of searching, I found an apartment today - got a deal on a 2 bedroom townhouse. I put down the security deposit. I drove back home. Tired, weary, I got an email notification on my phone: future work needs more paperwork. I turned on my laptop and logged into my email. I see another email from an unfamiliar name. It's the graduate coordinator from one of the schools I applied to and I got into a Geography PhD program with funding! I'm ecstatic - I am smart enough, qualified enough, good enough to get my PhD.

I remember I just got a job.

A good paying job.

I dissolve into a frantic flurry of panic, moan to my mother (she's pro-job), moan to my father (it's your life, both choices are good), then moan to my sissy (if I were you, I'd cry). Then I frantically call M, who's less than 2 months from her dissertation and knows what's what. She doesn't answer. I text her. I call B, who doesn't answer, so I leave a frantic freakout voicemail. I moan again to my dad and sister, who are busy cooking.

M calls. She's an angel. The voice of reason. She says ask if I can defer. I love her. We talk. B calls in the middle. I call her back after I hang up with M. She tells me congratulations and that things are finally going well for me. That she's happy for me. That Bud is going to get his PhD in a far away state which I've only driven through. B says we'll get together before I leave. I invite her down (of course).

c'est chic

Relationships with other people are the most important thing in the world. And I love our dog.

me and A in KoP

Um, still apartment hunting. I'm getting a lot better at it. I have looked at way too many floor plans.

One bedroom anyone?

Yesterday, I took a break from apt-hunting and me up with A in KoP. It was the first time both of us had been back since the last time we went in April. You know you enjoy someone's company when all you do is walk around a giant mall for hours and you had the best day ever. We sang to all the songs. I miss him already. When we were standing in Macy's looking for XS men's gloves for A's small hands, this guy came up and asked us for a price check. Then he was all - oh, you don't work here. Hello, we were bundled up in winter coats. I think he was high. We found the gloves.

I hope tomorrow is the end of my apartment hunting. I'm driving down with my dad to look at 2, hopefully 3 places. It's a 2 hour drive through back roads, across the Susquehanna River, under the Chesapeake Bay, and then breakneck speed down highway 95. Although technically any speed in a car over 35 is breakneck speed. Either way, I don't want to make a third trip down to search, so I want tomorrow's apartments to be fabulous, or I'll have to go up a price range. Again.

amalgamate is not agate stone

Both online and in-person apartment hunting is exhausting. Is it the strain of traveling 2 hours to a new place? Is it going from a rural area to an urban location? Is it meeting strangers? Touring apartments? Trying to stay in budget and to remember the feel of each apartment? When does a day start to swirl together in the mind until all those separate experiences amalgamate into one blur? And then I must choose one option.

Understand one thing about me. I am lazy. I don't want to commute more than 20miles to work. I want to feel safe at home. I want a washer/dryer. I want hardwood floors. I've slowly given up on hardwood floors. What is America's obsession with carpeting?

I saw three places today. The first, I didn't feel safe and there was no washer/dryer in the unit. The second, the apartments were nice, but the hallways and grounds of the apartment building weren't. The third, the location and outside was pleasant, but I wasn't a huge fan of the actual apartment. If I could take the insides of the 2nd one and put them inside the 3rd one, that would be ideal. I at least decided to stop trying to be a city girl. I'm country. I was perfectly happy in Roanoke. So screw it, I'll suburb it up if I have to. How will I ever meet anyone? Well, do they have match.com to find friends too?

gravel and mud and snow and ice

Mardi Gras was a beautiful day.

I went for a run at Hibernia for the first time in months. Oh it may be anti-social, but I love running in the woods in solitude. The gym makes me feel social, but it can't beat physically running somewhere- gravel and mud and snow and ice and jumping over potholes and dodging horseshit. The bare trunks of trees, shaded brown by the tilt of afternoon sunlight. The trees that I know along the path, the one I talked to, the one I swore to come back to always, the remembrance of all the other runs I've taken in other seasons, under pressure from other troubles, other people, other cares than those that plague me now.
Yeah, what gym?

Mardi Gras is a beautiful night.

be sure to wear flowers in your hair

Wasted away the evening with the Grammy's in the background and various apartment rental sites on the screen in front of me.

This song is San Francisco by Scott MacKenzie, from 1967. I first heard it included in the OST for Nice Guy, one of the better k-dramas I watched in 2012. You know how some songs take you back to a moment or the time you spent with a person? This song makes me feel melancholy, hopeful. It has me wishing I could thread some flowers through my hair and wander around 1960s era San Fran.

i called all my friends

Finding an apartment is harder than I thought, but I'm glad that my biggest problems now center around how to move forward, and not that I'm running out of willpower as I tread water. Also, I heard today that one of my close friends got the job she wanted yesterday.

I called/texted my friends to tell them the news, and to invite them to visit after I move. I've never lived by myself before. Okay, I did for one month back in MFA school, and I wound up turning on the TV for background noise. I don't count that time. The alternative is a cat, but I'm not really a pet person. I'll keep busy working, commuting, running, and expanding my cooking repertoire at first.

Dragged myself to the gym today in the rain. Got an alright workout; level 7 for the cross-fit machine was challenging, but 7 for the elliptical was cake. I need to go level 12 for it next time. When I move, I'll run for a while and not join a gym. Can winter be over soon, or will I have to invest more into winter running gear?

As far as feelings go, mainly nervous excitement. Trying to keep it tamped down because... well because that's my nature. How to stop repressing... If now's not time for celebrating, when is?

Sidenote - I debated telling Bud that I got a job, because he gave me a lot of encouragement when we were dating, but he hasn't told me anything about his plans. Probably because they involved trying to move a few states away with his ex-gf. Hmm. I see how that would have been awkward for him. So I'll just let this be. Why do I feel like I have to be friends with everyone? If I could just forget about establishing a peace between us, but nooo, the Libra in me insists on balance.

offer offer offer

Ahhh! I got a job offer! This blog is anonymous, so I won't say more, but finally.

Finally

After months and months of misery and self-evaluation and soul-searching and so many cover letters and resumes that they've all blended together. Finally I'm filling out HR paperwork. Thank you, God. It looks like February is going to be a rollercoaster month, and not just the emotional kind, the kind of roller coaster where events occur, where shit happens. Deep, right?

What could be more appropriate than 90s girl group B*Witched's Rollercoaster video from 1998? Oh middle school times.

idk my bff, Jill

I really hate it when people tell me I have my shit together. Real hate. I don't know what the hell is going on.

It feels like a betrayal when someone who's supposed to be close to me tells me that. Why? Well because it means they're not close to me after all. That's happened once that I can think of, which means a couple times because I've forgotten. But as I've aged towards being a full-fledged adult, it happens less and less. I think that's because school was easy (for me) to get As in. Before you protest, think; in school you know exactly what's expected of you. There's a freaking rubric for each class. You then decide to fulfill those requirements, or not. School is much simpler than life. Where's my rubric for life?  So if it's school then yeah, I do have my ish together, but do I in general? No way.

And if you've got no plan no goal no wishes? Iiiiiick.

XLVII

I vote Steelers, but I used to live in Baltimore, so go Ravens. Purple's my favorite color anyway. The Superbowl is stalled, so it's time to blog. I tuned in a few minutes before half-time because I mostly just wanted to watch Beyonce. I wasn't sure that she lived up to the hype until Kelly and Michelle came. Then memories of middle school and roller rinks came flooding back. Say my name, people. All the live-blogging going on is hilarious. And the glory of Beyonce's hair makes me want to get a weave.

At the gym today I saw 3 (young) women of color besides me. The gym was kind of dead, so that's pretty much how it should be. The second LOTR was playing one of the TVs. Since it got cold, I've worn tights to the gym, but I recently switched to shorts and a t-shirt, and I love it. Nothing beats making the trip from the parking lot while wearing warm sweatpants and a sweatshirt over my gym outfit. Tights just don't cut it.

I had to drive home in a snowstorm yesterday. The highway was alright since it was well used. My car didn't slip-n-slide until my driveway. Icicles on the car in the morning. The chef of the house was away for 2 days, so I made dinner. No one believes I can cook, but I can. But if I don't have to, I won't. Off to play my stormy adaptation of Moonlight Sonata on the piano.

It's snowing.

i'd given up, and then

I got called back for a second interview. I'd given up after hearing nothing for a week and a half, but I was wrong. Is this the start of my February roller-coaster? I need to work. I feel like I have no purpose. I live in a results-driven headspace, and looking for a job for so long has decimated my self-esteem. So low, I tell you. Every day I struggle to stay positive and calm so I don't start screaming, b/c I'm not sure anything but exhaustion could make me stop. I'm scared of every possible change, but I'm terrified of no change.

I forgot to say rabbits rabbits rabbits when I woke up. Not surprised. Morning is disorientation. I need quiet to regain consciousness. Stay away, morning people.

At the gym, there's something to that cross-fit machine. The strength workout on level 10 could have killed me today. After 15 minutes I stopped to do stretches, and I lowered the level to 7 for the last 25 minutes. I might be sore tomorrow. I went around 3, so the gym was pretty empty and I saw no notable men.

I did conclude that there's a shortage of female minority customers in their 20s. Usually I'm the only one there. All I see are white girls. Am I missing something? But I see men of all types, and the post-40 age group is pretty representative of the local community. I know there's more pressure on men to develop muscles, so maybe that's why they're at the gym. But there's pressure on women to stay slim, so how are they doing it if they're not running? Maybe it's because a lot of women only diet. Fuck that, I don't have the willpower.