Monthly Archives: January 2009

25 things

My sister tagged me on facebook with this “25 random things” list.  I told her I wasn’t doing it, but I just didn’t want to do it on facebook.  So I’ll do it here.  Yes, my facebook page links to my blog, but you know how facebook is.  Unless you self-promote yourself via your feed, no one bothers to look on your page.  So there’s less of a chance all those random colleagues I have as friends on facebook will find this.  I’ll start with the reason I have never done one of these things.  But rules first:

If you you get this, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it’s because I want to know more about you.

(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click post.)

Obviously, I’m not on facebook.

1)  I hate memes.  Why?  B/c they scream “look at me, I want to talk about me!”  (verses the narcissism of blogging..? I know.)  I’m not judging you, this is my problem.  I hate overt displays of ego.  Which leads me to:

2)  This girl I used to work with would come up to me and go on and on about the guys that would hit on her.  Either on the bus, on myspace, at the gym…  She only did this to me and I couldn’t stand her while everyone else loved her.  I didn’t understand why she did it, and it made me feel like shit.  Too much ego in my face.  I was so happy when she left, but I couldn’t let anyone at work know that.

3) That guy I briefly left boy for was the same way and I dread running into him because it’s a 5 minute brag session before getting in the last breath”and how are you?”  And just like with the other girl, I feel like shit afterwards.  I just don’t get it.

4) I’m trying to get over this by not being afraid to toot my own horn (and I’m not talking about flatulence.)

5) Although, while we’re on the subject of flatulance and tooting my own horn… well, enough said.  Boy can back me up on that one.

6) And also, since I made a B in physics when I was SERIOUSLY convinced I was going to fail, I now have it in my head it’s very possible I could be a medical physicist.  So I’ve been reading this physics theory book and actually really enjoying it in a sci-fi kind of way.

7) I’m by myself on a Friday night in my apartment watching Ghost Whisperer and getting scared.

8) I’m worried I won’t make it to 25.

9) I was afraid of the dark until the age of 17.  I always had nightlights.

10) I still have the blanket.  It stays under my pillow.

11) I can’t believe I just admitted that.

12) Part of keeping that blanket so close is sentimental value.  My grandmother made it.  She died before I was born.  Sometimes its absence in the middle of the night can still send me into a panic.

13) Obviously, I’m very insecure.

14) Insecurity also makes me overly proud and stubborn as hell.  My mother will gladly testify to this as I have pulled those 2 traits out on her one too many times.

15) Look!  I’m at 15!

16) Sometimes I sit at work and worry about Jack.  I also worry that I won’t cope very well if something ever happens to him.  It’s embarassing to admit the amount of attachement I have to my dog.  But I will say he got me through some of the toughest times I have had in my adult life.

17) No one could ever take care of me like boy does.  I don’t say it enough because after exposing too much of our break up on here I’ve been more protective of what I do say.  But it’s true.  He’s my best friend and then some.

18) I find 20-something blogs I like and start commenting and following them on twitter to establish an online social network.  I recently had to unfollow someone completely because she got engaged and started going on and on about offering advice on how to find “the one” and how to have a good relationship and how to live a better life (she doesn’t read my blog, I’m pretty sure I know who reads this.)  I found it not very genuine, overly optimistic, and it annoyed the crap out of me.  It felt like high and mighty self-branding.  Should I feel bad about this?

19) I could talk forever about the importance of eating healthy.  Bottom line is I don’t, I mean I do, often, but oh, I don’t.  This back and forth pattern, eat healthy, eat a whole pan of brownies, probably puts me at a very high risk for an eating disorder.  I am very conscious of my weight (my grandfather has always asked about my weight and my mom compared my body type to Tonya Harding when I was a ballerina then later called her a cow on ice.  Not blaming, just sayin’…)  Most important part is that I don’t have an eating disorder and never have, but it’s a constant uncomfortable unease with my body and diet that I really hate.  Ooooh, what it is to be a girl.

20) My one big regret was quitting ballet too soon.  I developed a woman’s body earlier than the other ballerinas and was put in the class with the older girls, but I didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with the weight factor.

21) I want to be a doctor more than I let people know.  I can’t wait until medical school.  I get very excited talking about it.

22) I’m pretty sure I still have friends that doubt my ability to do this.  I don’t know if they realize saying things like “some of us just don’t have the aptitude” in response to my struggles with physics is pretty transparent in how you think I’ll do.

23) And nannannabooboo, I did well in physics so in your face.

24) I’m going to meet boy and a friend at dinner now.  They went to see a scary movie.  I don’t do scary movies.  I’m too sensitive.

25) And I don’t plan on washing my hair or getting out of my jeans and tee shirt anytime soon.

Did it!

The End.

And all my readers who have blogs need to do the same.  Wandering Bella, The Blonde, The Purposefully Content, The IT Girl, and everyone else.  kthxbye.

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the rest of what I wanted to say about my Tahoe adventure

On the train ride to the airport hours before our plane ride to Hawaii, boy turned to me and said, “you realize if we don’t have fun on this trip we’re breaking up.”  My jaw dropped to the floor before I started cracking up laughing.  Because it was so true.  Really, if you can’t have fun in Hawaii with your significant other, there’s a BIG problem.  Fortunately, we didn’t run into that problem.

Tahoe proved no different.  I’ve never felt resentment of going some place spectacular and missing out on something I thought was awesome because he wasn’t in the mood to go to the top of a mountain or go down the 2.5 mile trail one more time.  We’re good travel mates.  And if you’ve ever traveled with someone who gets whiny and in a grumpy funk over one bad meal or a lack of ability to make a decision about what to do next, then you know how nice it is to have a travel partner that matches your pace and priorities perfectly.

In between the most awesomest snowboarding, I snowshoed twice a day with Jack.  When we arrived the owners’ yellow lab, Kona, came up to the driver side door to greet us and Jack went nutso.  I think Jack thought this whole vacation was for him (you know, because that Chem and Physics final stressed him out so much.)  He hopped onto the bed right away and sprawled out before we took him on an evening romp through the snow.

I took Jack snowshoeing in the mornings by myself not so much because boy has a problem with snowshoeing as much as he has a problem with mornings (he works at 5am, so any chance he gets he sleeps in.)  I can’t explain what I like about snowshoeing without getting super excited and cheesy, so here goes…  I took over 100 pictures that first morning out there by myself.  Being out there in the woods with the snow killing all the sounds around so I all I heard was the crunch crunch of my snowshoes kept a smile on my face.  I wanted to capture the glitteryness of everything.  Jack could go anywhere he wanted but mainly stayed at my heels because he got wobbly legs where the icy surface tension wouldn’t hold him above the snow.  Maybe partly because the air was so thin, but it was so clean – a combination of which could have led to me taking pictures of the bark on trees and the frost on sticks convinced that these things are the most beautiful things EVER!  And that fungus, the stuff growing on that tree stump?!  Wow.  And then the last morning, Jack started to get a bit wiggy.  As if in staring at me, ears back, head low, tail down before turning all the way around and running back along the trail to the cabin.  I was talking out loud to him “what’s the deal, dude?  You love this!  Why are you running?”  He did it a few more times but I kept going knowing he will always follow me rather than go off by himself (I love this about Jack.  He will always come to me instead of running off, it’s a reassuring cattle dog gene.)  About an hour later when we returned I told the owner what Jack was doing and how weird it was.  His response?  “Bears.  You don’t think to look up, but there was probably a bear in a tree.  They scout out their prey from the trees.”  Umm, huh?  Shouldn’t they be in hibernation?  In any case, I so wish I would have seen one to get a picture.

In the evenings we sat in the adirondak chairs by the fire roasting s’mores while Jack and Kona did laps around the fire in between begging for marshmallows.  And you know that feeling after a vacation?  The one you want to hold on to, the lack of tension, glow in your skin, the lack of self-awareness about what my hair is doing or what I’m wearing?  Yeah, that.  I thought about it.  What I was really dreading about going back to work.  I arrived at this – I hate trying to dress nice and do my hair and look decent for the office.  What you may not realize, but my friends can testify to, is that I am extremely self-conscious.  I hate trying to look nice, I can’t put an outfit together to save my life and I hate trying to smooth out my hair (it’s frizzy folks, unless I don’t wash is for days and truth be told I mostly wash it every 3 days, if not longer.  You may think it’s gross, but I say it saves me hours of blow drying and straightening.)  I read over at Working Girl blog that advertising and marketing careers are known for being fashionable.  Not this working girl.  I’ve declared too many times that a job where flip flops and jeans are not allowed is not for me.  Am I whining?  Yes, but it’s sort of a problem.  I can get stuck in the mirror forever in the morning not satisfied, trying way too hard, afraid of being judged for not trying harder.  I sweat too much to wear fitted shirts (yeah, I don’t know why I sweat so much, just do.  Doctor’s response – it’s a sign of good health.  Tell that to my fear of raising my right arm too high in public.)  I am a tee shirt and jeans girl.  So, there.  That’s the pimple on face since I’ve been back.  It’s the self awareness that came with leaving the woods and returning to the cubicle when I don’t thing I quite belong.

And it’s the last few days of freedom before a I hunker down for Physics II and Chemistry II.  I know, you think I would get a break with getting a B in physics can all, but that was just the first half!  On to magnets and oscillations.

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a very short and entirely not movie related review of Slumdog Millionaire

so why would I ever want to go to India after seeing that?

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more than you wanted to know about snowboarding

Boy and I just came back from our annual Tahoe trip.  We extended the trip this year to include 2 days of snowboarding instead of just one.  I insisted that this time we take a lesson so I can maintain control and not risk blowing out a knee (2 years of snowboarding and we never took a lesson.)  So we did.  And it was awesome.

We took a weekday lesson in the afternoon which meant it was one cutie instructor with a british accent (Rhys, like Reece’s Pieces) and just me and boy.  Basically a private lesson.  He took us to the bunny hill, up the lift, talked us through getting off the lift (still hit the snow the first time off) and walked me through coming down the first hill.  And just having someone there, talking you through the obvious, I wanted to throw my arms up and call my mom and scream “look at me, mom!  look at me!”  We started off with falling leaf, which looks like this:

falling-leaf1So you do this while keeping your board pointed side to side while lifting your toes, rocking back on your heels and squatting down shifting weight into right foot then left foot.  Easy peasy.

Next, S turns.  These are supposed to look like this:

sOr something like that.  So the point is to keep the same foot going forward all the way down.  Whereas in the falling leaf you have right foot going forward, then left foot.  On the S turns, you flip around on the turn and have your back facing down the slope.  Now think about this position.  When coming down on your heels, it’s so easy to fall on your tush and slide down the slope.  But if you fall on your tush facing up the mountain, it’s a heck of a long fall!  See:

fallingMuch scarier, and much more painful.  I slammed down and caught myself by my wrists and I just sat there b/c holy ouch.  I was shaken up and scared to fall again so it took me a while to try it again, but it got better.  It always gets better.

Day 2, we did some bunny slope runs then hit the big trail.  2.5 miles, 8,000 feet up!  First accomplishment, not falling off the adult ski lift.  Boy and I both hit the snow hard last year and the little siren went off that indicates the lift had to stop until the people on the ground can get there faces out of the snow.  So not cool.  This year?  I had a little british voice in my head repeating “alright, 100% this time!  stand up straight, put your weight forward, left butt cheek last to leave the chair…”  And magic!  off the chair and gliding down.  We strapped on our boards and started down the mountain and the experience was 110% more enjoyable than blustery last year when I was tired, sore, had altitude sickness and found myself walking down the mountain grumbling and the parts where I put on my board were so flat I didn’t go anywhere.  This time I zigzagged the whole way down.  Like this:

als-s-tunrsNow, the important part here is what you see to the right side.  Mmm hmm.  Those are 360’s people.  I started my zigzag down the slope and lo and behold – I’m doing circles!  I was totally showing off.  Making sure boy was looking at me each time so I had an eyewitness.  There are cameras set up on the slopes and you can go to the site afterward and see if they caught you in action.  Each day I sat and went through about 300 pics posted trying to see if they got me.  And they didn’t!  I’ve been so worried that no one would believe me, that I am now a very awesome snowboarding fiend.

What I like most about snowboarding is that it is quite possibly one of the scariest things I will do.  Each night afterward I spent an hour before falling asleep freaking myself out, visualizing all the injuries I could get, everything that could go wrong, working up into a mental block.  And each day I went out and got over my fear.  I feel like a walking ad for how girl sports raise self esteem.  Although I think those ads are meant more for the tweens rather than the 25+ gals 🙂

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going to smell the snow

candied ginger for the car ride for me: check

trail mix for the car ride for him: check

bone to chew for the car ride for Jack: check

3 days of food (and enough ginger ale to keep me burping for a month): check

Jack’s snowshoeing vest: check

movies.  tons of movies: check

completely non-intellectual and age inappropriate books (i.e. the Twilight novels I haven’t gotten to yet): check

my snow pants that I left at home last year (followed by a temper tantrum upon arrival): check

TAHOE!

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the list

I used to dig through all his stuff when we first got together.  I was eager to know everything about him, too naive to know that the process was worth savoring.  Who is this guy, where did he come from, what has he been through?  Who broke his heart in the past, whose heart did he break?  Why did he have a box full of action figures?

Seven years later, I’m not as curious.  I’ve known his daily routine for nearly four of those years.  So why would a glance through his wallet as I sat kinda bored in the bathroom surprise me?  (and who threw away all my catalogs!)

Because of a list he keeps in his wallet.  A list of things I said I liked with the items he already bought me scratched off.  Unless you know someone else who hates pigeons as much as I do and can find the irony in a canvas painting from Urban Outfitters that says “I Love Pigeons” a hysterical gift.

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the girl who called fail

I never let on to my family how tough a class is because I always get the same response – “honey, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”  And I’m always thinking in my head no!  I will not be fine!  I will not always be fine! So I tried not to let on how tough physics was for me this past fall.  I hinted around at it.  Told them I was preparing for the worst.  Emphasizing that I will have to retake this course elsewhere.  Somewhere where they can tone it down to my level.  I sat in counseling week after week and talked through how to deal with the anxiety physics caused me.  The anxiety that kept me from even so much as studying at times, because I was too scared to crack the book open.  I stayed up until 2 am each night the week of the final, littering the pages with multi-colored tabs with notes and focusing on keeping an open mind so that I wouldn’t get that tense frustration of just not understanding.  And the evening of the exam, I stood in the kitchen for 2 hours eating crackers nervously reviewing notes and then went to class.  First problem – rocked it, 100%.  Second problem – I know what the concept is but I can’t quite figure it out, I’ll come back to it.  Third problem – score, this was a homework problem, but wait.  What?  Why can’t I figure this out?  I should be able to figure this out!  What the hell?!  Fourth problem – crap crap crap, 2 hours in, 1 hour to go. I went to the bathroom to get the panic out and then came back and just wrote derivations.  Tons of derivations.  A page worth of derivations.  Problem 5&6 – are you kidding me?!  Well, here’s a good guess.

I never did get back to the second problem.  I came home.  Really thought about how I did.  Really really thought about the possible outcomes.  I only actually answered one problem.   I couldn’t imagine anything other than an F.  A big fat F that would be 2/3 of my final grade.  The other third was my midterm.  Which was… ahem….a big fat 60%. So people asked how it went, and I was honest.  The course kicked my ass.  And there was no curve since the grades were already scaled grades down 5%, so a 75% was still somehow a B.  And still, I couldn’t cut it.  Ugh.  I could deal.

So the professor emailed me today.  I made a B.  In the class.  B.  I KNOW!  I’m happy.  Ecstatic.  But more upset that no one will ever believe me again when I say that  a course kicked my ass!  I am now known as the girl who cried fail.

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