I always feel bad bringing up this subject, because I realize how many people out there struggle with weight far beyond anything I can understand. I've been blessed with my father's metabolism and the weird talent to forget to eat, so take all I say with a grain of salt and the understanding that I don't hold weight against anyone. I just want to be able to talk about it from my perspective.
Over the winter I picked up about 5lbs on top of the 3-4 I already had above my "really, really fit" weight level of 125. At first, I just blamed it on eating out too much, not biking, and generally being lazy. Then, one day in May (after biking to work and being relatively back into shape post-winter), I realized I was back up over my typical high school weight. By no means did I think I needed to lose weight at that point, but I was simply surprised. I haven't been over that since I went off to college, and I started to think that the mid-twenties metabolism shift had hit me. But then, a week ago, someone at work suddenly asked me if I'd lost weight. I hadn't checked in a month and a half, so I chalked it up to more biking and my cycling interest in food (I was forgetting to eat more often in July than I had for the previous few months). I checked the scale two days ago and sure enough, I've dropped 7lbs in the six weeks since I checked the scale last.
Thing is, it's not all the eating and the biking. Well, it is, but I wouldn't have lost the weight had my emotions not shifted. I'm starting to think that the eating shift happened when I no longer needed something to stabilize my emotional state. Sometime around the end of June, I pulled out of my dark cloud, then over the last few weeks I've been pro-actively grabbing my life and making steps towards where I want to be. I'm scared shitless a lot of the time because of the steps I'm taking, so my nerves probably help keep me disinterested in food, but it's a good nervous that in some ways has been propelling me. I'm happy, and thus crave less fat and want to get out and exercise more. I'm in awe of what my body does and how I react to these extremely simple, yet frustratingly intertwined processes.
I can't help but be grateful that my mood is generally not in a co-dependent cause/effect relationship with food. What I mean by that is that I can pull out of a bad emotional situation without having to fix the food problem, yet the food problem comes along for the ride and fixes itself. I doubt that without my mood lifting, I would have been motivated enough to drop the weight (which, I repeat, I didn't need to or feel pressured to at all). I also wonder whether losing the weight would have lifted my mood as a by-product, or whether it would have stayed right where it was. "What if's" for miles won't help, but hopefully in the next few weeks I'll start to be able to open up about what's going on, why I'm suddenly happy to the point that my health has improved, and what I'm looking forward to.
Dare I say it... I might have a plan?
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
tick tock the time clock...
Work becomes abysmal when the auditors come to town. As a GLP (good lab practice) lab, we get to conform to government standards regarding documentation of the work that goes on, and to check up on how we are doing they send in a guy to look over everyone's shoulder and try to find what we're doing wrong. Constant second-guessing of myself doesn't exactly bode for a fun 3 days at work...
But speaking of work... I'm inching towards finding a way out by applying to things vastly different from where I am. At the same time, the second-guessing comes naturally, and I'm really skeptical of whether I'm on the right path. The truth is, I haven't applied for any other lab jobs because I can hardly stand the thought of another lab job. Reading through my old journals the other day I came upon a passage in which I contemplated stepping off the train and joining the Peace Corp, a VERY random thought that never developed, but was clearly signaling that I was dissatisfied with the course my life was heading for. The sad thing was that entry was written in 2005. Even now, it's hard to let go of the lengthy numerations of methodologies I'm familiar with; cutting them out of my resume feels like amputating my fingers, one at a time. I'm proud of them and of the list because it says I'm impressive, I have value, I am the smart girl.
But I'm not the smart girl any more--that stopped when school stopped. I only became the smart girl because one day in 3rd or 4th grade, I learned that I could get approval from my teachers and parents, along with some level of recognition from my peers, by getting all A's. I've always been intelligent and have been blessed with a strong memory, but this choice was to define myself by those characteristics. Now that I'm working at a job that is intellectual, but not challenging me in an academic sense, I realize what a charade I've created. I am so much more than S-M-R-T...
Except for the fact that, by being the smart girl, I picked myself up and plunked myself down on the other side of a fence, away from social knowledge and the risk of not being liked. I may need to be "schooled" in the art of everything non-academic. Perhaps looking for something that seems like a step down from a highly qualified resume builder isn't a step down, but a chance to pick up all those lessons I missed out on. We'll see though, I have to get past various interviews first and convince someone to take a chance on someone who's so obviously a science nerd.
But speaking of work... I'm inching towards finding a way out by applying to things vastly different from where I am. At the same time, the second-guessing comes naturally, and I'm really skeptical of whether I'm on the right path. The truth is, I haven't applied for any other lab jobs because I can hardly stand the thought of another lab job. Reading through my old journals the other day I came upon a passage in which I contemplated stepping off the train and joining the Peace Corp, a VERY random thought that never developed, but was clearly signaling that I was dissatisfied with the course my life was heading for. The sad thing was that entry was written in 2005. Even now, it's hard to let go of the lengthy numerations of methodologies I'm familiar with; cutting them out of my resume feels like amputating my fingers, one at a time. I'm proud of them and of the list because it says I'm impressive, I have value, I am the smart girl.
But I'm not the smart girl any more--that stopped when school stopped. I only became the smart girl because one day in 3rd or 4th grade, I learned that I could get approval from my teachers and parents, along with some level of recognition from my peers, by getting all A's. I've always been intelligent and have been blessed with a strong memory, but this choice was to define myself by those characteristics. Now that I'm working at a job that is intellectual, but not challenging me in an academic sense, I realize what a charade I've created. I am so much more than S-M-R-T...
Except for the fact that, by being the smart girl, I picked myself up and plunked myself down on the other side of a fence, away from social knowledge and the risk of not being liked. I may need to be "schooled" in the art of everything non-academic. Perhaps looking for something that seems like a step down from a highly qualified resume builder isn't a step down, but a chance to pick up all those lessons I missed out on. We'll see though, I have to get past various interviews first and convince someone to take a chance on someone who's so obviously a science nerd.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Update on the 101
So, I'm kinda being bad about keeping up the 101 in 1001 details... but the work is still happening (sorta). I managed to eek out 10 trips to the mountain (found the 10th lift ticket the other day and realized I'd underestimated at 9), so number 3 has been done for a while. I'm also working on the bike to work goal as long as my tires would stop going flat--new spoke tape should help. Mostly, I just need to pay attention to my goals, especially reading and drinking water and flossing. I'm bailing on noting things, forgetting the last book I finished, falling asleep without flossing a week or so in, and so on. Oh, and then there's the problem with uploading (seen at right).
So, a new Short List:
2. Be BRAVE enough to try a level II yoga class...
4. Stop the flat tire madness and get a biker bod.
5. One Nalgene a day won't kill me... oh wait, it might.
7. Stretch (at home yoga can count!) 30 days in a row.
8. The all-elusive 10 full pushups.
13. Keeping up between the teeth.
17. Eek! I'm past due on a spa moment!
25. Stop buying blueberries and strawberries at the last minute on the 4th at QFC. :P
32. Drink water, not soda.
42. Find new career of choice... or at least look.
51. & 52. Keep track of the books I read.
57. & 60. Blog and upload more frequently (regardless of kittens on keyboards).
Okay, so that's 12 things. We'll stop there and hope I can cross off 6 by the end of the summer at least. Maybe I'll try to update something interesting about the last couple weeks soon. Hopefully I'll get through June with the Flickr stuff by the end of July. The 60+ hike photos are daunting though.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
bands, booze, and a crazy french dude
I am the first to admit it, I am a groupie for a band with perhaps the worst band name ever... wait for it... Handful of Luvin'. And yes, I have now attended 4 shows that they have performed at. Honestly, they sound so much better live I haven't bought their CD's and who in their right mind would want a t-shirt that says "Handful of Luvin" on it? So I figure I support the band through cover charges (even though I didn't pay one last night), and simply showing up and bringing different friends every time. Like Friday night, I introduced KAL to their music (and the violinist with the broody eyes, which of course sets my heart a flutter). Little did I know what the night had in store for us.
We got to Fado early, had a couple beers and talked for a good hour. When the band started, we both listened to them play and watched the really amusing groupie-boys who were right up in front of the band, dancing like they were epileptics or swinging their arms off-beat. Overall, it was awesome. I was definitely buzzed from not having eaten a large dinner, and KAL was feeling it too.
Then I got a tap on my shoulder, and all hell broke loose.
Generally I refuse drinks offered to me at a bar because I'm too nice to not talk to the guy for a while, and then the situation gets awkward because I never feel comfortable talking to random guy who is buying me drinks to hopefully make out with me at some point that night.... but due to whatever reason, and the fact that KAL doesn't turn down drinks, we soon had two Mac'n'Jacks in front of us. The guy talks to us, with a strong accent that I soon recognize as French. We talk, and he seems cool enough... but there's always the "in town just for tonight" and the flirtatious touches that get me put on edge. Soon enough he's got his hands on my back, shoulders, whatnot and is trying to kiss my neck, cheek, etc... For whatever reason, I am cracking up at the situation, and rather than running immediately for the exit, which I normally would have done, I kinda put up with it. I try to brush him off so that I can listen to the band, but he is continually making a pull at me towards my lips.
Eventually, I'm tired of it to the point where I don't want to stick around to listen anymore, and Kirsten and I walk to the bathroom laughing, and out to the sidewalk to wait for the bus. Ten minutes later, after being cat-called from a cruising car with VERY shiny wheels, out walks my frenchman, cigarette in hand. KAL does a good job monopolizing the conversation for my sake, but he cannot be dissuaded from grabbing my face. Finally the bus comes, and I ride one stop the wrong direction just to finally get away from the guy who would have insisted on walking me to my bus stop had I not run away.
I get off the south-bound bus in Pioneer Square and have to walk the 3 blocks to my bus stop. I put on my "Fuck-off" vibe extra strong, and walk straight past a group of club-bound guys who whistle and "hey baby where ya going?" at me as I walk towards them, and mutter "Oh, so COLD..." as I walk off without even so much as looking up. I get a kick out of that too really... I'm all kinds of weird when it comes to the opposite sex. I find all these dating and mating rituals utterly disconcerting one day, and fabulously hilarious the next. I guess really I like being in a position of power, getting to be the rejector is far more fun than being rejected.
So overall, it was a hilarious night and much fun hanging out with a good buddy, while creating a fun story. Only one problem... I still didn't talk to broody-eyed violin boy. Who's up for concert #5? :P
We got to Fado early, had a couple beers and talked for a good hour. When the band started, we both listened to them play and watched the really amusing groupie-boys who were right up in front of the band, dancing like they were epileptics or swinging their arms off-beat. Overall, it was awesome. I was definitely buzzed from not having eaten a large dinner, and KAL was feeling it too.
Then I got a tap on my shoulder, and all hell broke loose.
Generally I refuse drinks offered to me at a bar because I'm too nice to not talk to the guy for a while, and then the situation gets awkward because I never feel comfortable talking to random guy who is buying me drinks to hopefully make out with me at some point that night.... but due to whatever reason, and the fact that KAL doesn't turn down drinks, we soon had two Mac'n'Jacks in front of us. The guy talks to us, with a strong accent that I soon recognize as French. We talk, and he seems cool enough... but there's always the "in town just for tonight" and the flirtatious touches that get me put on edge. Soon enough he's got his hands on my back, shoulders, whatnot and is trying to kiss my neck, cheek, etc... For whatever reason, I am cracking up at the situation, and rather than running immediately for the exit, which I normally would have done, I kinda put up with it. I try to brush him off so that I can listen to the band, but he is continually making a pull at me towards my lips.
Eventually, I'm tired of it to the point where I don't want to stick around to listen anymore, and Kirsten and I walk to the bathroom laughing, and out to the sidewalk to wait for the bus. Ten minutes later, after being cat-called from a cruising car with VERY shiny wheels, out walks my frenchman, cigarette in hand. KAL does a good job monopolizing the conversation for my sake, but he cannot be dissuaded from grabbing my face. Finally the bus comes, and I ride one stop the wrong direction just to finally get away from the guy who would have insisted on walking me to my bus stop had I not run away.
I get off the south-bound bus in Pioneer Square and have to walk the 3 blocks to my bus stop. I put on my "Fuck-off" vibe extra strong, and walk straight past a group of club-bound guys who whistle and "hey baby where ya going?" at me as I walk towards them, and mutter "Oh, so COLD..." as I walk off without even so much as looking up. I get a kick out of that too really... I'm all kinds of weird when it comes to the opposite sex. I find all these dating and mating rituals utterly disconcerting one day, and fabulously hilarious the next. I guess really I like being in a position of power, getting to be the rejector is far more fun than being rejected.
So overall, it was a hilarious night and much fun hanging out with a good buddy, while creating a fun story. Only one problem... I still didn't talk to broody-eyed violin boy. Who's up for concert #5? :P
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
transportation gods
Somebody up there really hates me. All I want to do is bike to work and I am just not having any luck. First I got a cold the first week of June and sniffles + rainy biking = yucky yucky yucky. I got over the cold quicky because I didn't bike, but then the following Monday, I head out in my newly healthy state, and get a flat tire on the way home. Since it was the rear tire, it was too daunting to fix on the side of the road, so I waited and waited and waited for a bus. It came 20 minutes late. Little did I know what was to follow...
Fixing the tire seemed easy enough, until a brake pad fell off after trying to replace the wheel. Then the other break pad fell off. Then the tire wouldn't go in straight. Then I lost the nut for one side of the wheel for 2 hours, finding it improbably tucked into a part of the bike when I KNOW I had put it on the towel on the floor to not lose it. Then the breaks were still messed up and the tire uneven. Thursday night I got it all back in working order, only to go home to b-town for Father's day festivities.
Last night, in all the glorious sunshine that was about to fade, I left work late. I was dying for my bike, but I was heading home via bus due to my weekend bag still with me. Little did I know a fire had knocked out the electrical lines for the bus I normally take. After waiting almost 35 minutes, and missing two connecting busses, I finally had an alternate bus show up, grabbed it, and caught the long bus home. For a typically no-more-than 45 minute trip, it took an hour and 40 minutes.
So today, I'm not about to trust the busses. I head down to the bike cage and grab my bike to head out. Only, something feels wrong. I look down and the rear tire is flat. AGAIN. This time after I flip the bike over (and get coated in grease again) I discover a small piece of glass stuck in the tire. I had done a thorough once-over on the tire to check it after the previous flat, and there was nothing, or at least I didn't see anything. So after a few moments, I realize it's more trouble to fix the tire in a rush than to go upstairs, change and run to the bus. THEN as the bus is pulling up to the transfer point, I watch as my connecting bus pulls away from the sidewalk.
My god. What did I do to get this kind of Karma?
Fixing the tire seemed easy enough, until a brake pad fell off after trying to replace the wheel. Then the other break pad fell off. Then the tire wouldn't go in straight. Then I lost the nut for one side of the wheel for 2 hours, finding it improbably tucked into a part of the bike when I KNOW I had put it on the towel on the floor to not lose it. Then the breaks were still messed up and the tire uneven. Thursday night I got it all back in working order, only to go home to b-town for Father's day festivities.
Last night, in all the glorious sunshine that was about to fade, I left work late. I was dying for my bike, but I was heading home via bus due to my weekend bag still with me. Little did I know a fire had knocked out the electrical lines for the bus I normally take. After waiting almost 35 minutes, and missing two connecting busses, I finally had an alternate bus show up, grabbed it, and caught the long bus home. For a typically no-more-than 45 minute trip, it took an hour and 40 minutes.
So today, I'm not about to trust the busses. I head down to the bike cage and grab my bike to head out. Only, something feels wrong. I look down and the rear tire is flat. AGAIN. This time after I flip the bike over (and get coated in grease again) I discover a small piece of glass stuck in the tire. I had done a thorough once-over on the tire to check it after the previous flat, and there was nothing, or at least I didn't see anything. So after a few moments, I realize it's more trouble to fix the tire in a rush than to go upstairs, change and run to the bus. THEN as the bus is pulling up to the transfer point, I watch as my connecting bus pulls away from the sidewalk.
My god. What did I do to get this kind of Karma?
Sunday, June 8, 2008
note on the state of things
Why on earth does it make me so mad that one cannot reserve a decent campground anywhere near Wenatchee/Lake Chelan on a weekend 3 weeks in advance? I really do have to plan these things out on an extended time scale... Or stop working on a regular, M-F, 9-5 schedule. I'd better get started on that trip I want to take in August! So much for winging it... I need to be on top of this summer before it passes me buy again.
...but exactly when will it begin?
...but exactly when will it begin?
Saturday, June 7, 2008
looking for that thing deep down
So, more or less I'm taking option 3 while expecting option 1 to kick in anytime now, since I'm not sure what the hell direction option 3 is going to lead me in. What do I mean? Just that I'm going on with life as it is, in this somewhat stinky economy with very limited lab job postings (and my limited interest in another lab job) and meanwhile trying to figure out just what it is that I should be doing. Part of me is determined to see if being creative outside of work will be enough to allow me to function those 40 hours a week in a rather logical and dry career. I realize I need to get out of science at some point, but I need something stronger to stand on than a part time job a Starbucks or REI with regards to a potential new career.
But on the other hand, writing is just not happening. Sometimes I'll get a moment where I want to write something, but even writing for this blog is something I'll put off to no end... Hopefully a new endeavor will encourage me to write more (while being another thing on my 101 list to check off, now that I'm getting painfully behind!). Here goes:
So you'll have to promise not to laugh, but I'm starting in on visual journaling. It was very roundabout, but I found multiple blogs by rather talented and creative people in the course of a week (just around my birthday actually). Through these discoveries (and many, many minutes and which probably add up to hours spent watching youtube videos...) I landed on a blog where the author was about to start an online workshop. God knows I respond well to assignments and accountability... Plus, it was going to run during the 8 weeks that Vinh was out of town (and thus I'd actually have some time to myself, and I mean that in the nicest way possible Vinh... :)). So I threw caution to the wind, stopped at the art supply store, and stocked up on the various supplies needed to be non-verbally creative.
The first assignment was in regards to space: your general art space, the journal as space, journaling away from your usual locale, and in some ways, defining the spaces within the page. This page (above) is the first attempt, which turned out better than I'd expected. I'd forced myself to cover the pages in stream-of-consciousness writing, then some crayon doodles, then layering on paint (acrylics, using my new $.65 plastic palate knife... it's fun :)). After that I kinda ran out of ideas, even though the pages looked so pretty in an abstract kind of way. I made the butterflies out of cardstock and then put in the notebook paper scraps to create writing space (see, I can never get away from words...). The pictures were part
of the "assignment" in which I determined my "in" journaling space, and my "out" journaling space. The "in" is basically my coffee table draped in an old XL t-shirt (freebie from an engineering fair...) and my Met bag with a large shoebox of supplies inside. To try to be brave, I took a small bag of supplies (mostly markers, crayons, glue, tape and collage scraps) to my favorite coffee shop, Herkimer, and stayed as long as I felt I could justify taking up their table. This page (at right), which had a red background already painted on it, turned into a bit of a complaint towards adulthood and the frustrations I'm feeling between what I want to do and what is feasible. I'm not sure I'm as happy with this page since I think I kept going too far with it, but I suppose for a second attempt, and in trying conditions, it's probably progress.
So there you go, something new to write about and to post pictures of. My 366 is being mended right now... but I'm almost caught up after having to do some patchwork and catch-up photos. Capturing days that are insanely boring while not repeating the same photo over and over is not very easy. Not easy at all.
But on the other hand, writing is just not happening. Sometimes I'll get a moment where I want to write something, but even writing for this blog is something I'll put off to no end... Hopefully a new endeavor will encourage me to write more (while being another thing on my 101 list to check off, now that I'm getting painfully behind!). Here goes:
So you'll have to promise not to laugh, but I'm starting in on visual journaling. It was very roundabout, but I found multiple blogs by rather talented and creative people in the course of a week (just around my birthday actually). Through these discoveries (and many, many minutes and which probably add up to hours spent watching youtube videos...) I landed on a blog where the author was about to start an online workshop. God knows I respond well to assignments and accountability... Plus, it was going to run during the 8 weeks that Vinh was out of town (and thus I'd actually have some time to myself, and I mean that in the nicest way possible Vinh... :)). So I threw caution to the wind, stopped at the art supply store, and stocked up on the various supplies needed to be non-verbally creative.The first assignment was in regards to space: your general art space, the journal as space, journaling away from your usual locale, and in some ways, defining the spaces within the page. This page (above) is the first attempt, which turned out better than I'd expected. I'd forced myself to cover the pages in stream-of-consciousness writing, then some crayon doodles, then layering on paint (acrylics, using my new $.65 plastic palate knife... it's fun :)). After that I kinda ran out of ideas, even though the pages looked so pretty in an abstract kind of way. I made the butterflies out of cardstock and then put in the notebook paper scraps to create writing space (see, I can never get away from words...). The pictures were part
of the "assignment" in which I determined my "in" journaling space, and my "out" journaling space. The "in" is basically my coffee table draped in an old XL t-shirt (freebie from an engineering fair...) and my Met bag with a large shoebox of supplies inside. To try to be brave, I took a small bag of supplies (mostly markers, crayons, glue, tape and collage scraps) to my favorite coffee shop, Herkimer, and stayed as long as I felt I could justify taking up their table. This page (at right), which had a red background already painted on it, turned into a bit of a complaint towards adulthood and the frustrations I'm feeling between what I want to do and what is feasible. I'm not sure I'm as happy with this page since I think I kept going too far with it, but I suppose for a second attempt, and in trying conditions, it's probably progress.So there you go, something new to write about and to post pictures of. My 366 is being mended right now... but I'm almost caught up after having to do some patchwork and catch-up photos. Capturing days that are insanely boring while not repeating the same photo over and over is not very easy. Not easy at all.
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