human, being


Random Tuesday
  • I just ate cherry pie for dinner at Village Inn. Yes, sweet and sour, luscious, delicious cherry pie.
  • I have decided to look for a life coach. Maybe it’s the whole turning 40 thing that’s got me at this point. And this point is a place where I feel stuck career-wise, life-wise. At 40, you’re supposed to know what you want to be when you grow up. Today I wrote that if you count student journalism, I’ve been doing basically the same job since I was 12. Then I read (for the 100th time) that most people change careers three to five times in their lifetime. So I’m behind. Maybe I do want to stay in this line of work, but I don’t know. I need help figuring it out. I don’t have a five-year plan, or a one-year plan, or a 60-day plan even. I don’t have a vision for my life. And I need one. So I’m going to invest the money. Now, I need an angel to drop a stellar personal/career coach in my lap.
  • The other night, I was so pissed off in general that I made this whole scheme in my head about how I was going to cash out my meager 401K and run away to Mexico.  I knew exactly what items I would take with me (laptop and speakers, camera gear, camping gear, fishing pole, clothes, 90-day supply of meds, salsa shoes). I even looked up information about what I would have to do to drive in Mexico (international drivers license, Mexican insurance, tourist visa, car permit). I fantasized about finding a job in Zihuatenajo or Playa del Carmen teaching yoga, or taking pictures of tourists for cash. I would completely check out. I was in such a state that I figured Lauren was better off without me, and that I didn’t care about the financial mess I’d leave behind. I’d come back when I was good and ready, or never. I used to think about killing myself, but then I realized I didn’t want to die, I just wanted to kill the life that felt so painful to me. So I stopped being suicidal and started fantasizing about running away. Maybe someday I will, just like the guy at the end of Shawshank Redemption, right?
  • We have to give Pharley this stuff called Nutrical, which is a brown sticky goo in a tube. Apparently, it’s very tasty because all of the creatures love it, including the cats. When we pull out the tube, the ferrets shake with excitement. It’s very odd and hilarious. Then, they act all hopped up because it’s a total sugar rush, running, hopping, dooking, attacking. I think it’s the equivalent of giving your kid a whole package of those sugar straws. Makes me want to get a video camera just so I can record it.
  • I have been conscientiously picking up after myself AND cleaning the house lately. Steve and I have been fighting about these things from the beginning, and lately, it’s been getting worse. I can’t say it was him who convinced me. It was actually that guy Peter Walsh, uber-clutter-master. He was on Oprah the other day, and he said something about how if you don’t take care of your house, you are disrespecting the biggest investment you make in your life, and basically that means that the universe will turn around and knock you upside the head in other ways. Same for your car. Maybe it won’t totally stick, but maybe I’m tired of acting like a child. It’s funny, (interesting not ha-ha) because when Steve and I fight, and I go into my typical doomsday thinking place, I say fuck it, I’ll just act like he doesn’t live here anymore. And when I do that, I naturally clean up after myself and clean the house. But if I’m not in that place, I go back into acting like a kid, and for me that means letting my father clean up after me. My dad is notoriously Mr Neat and Tidy, to the point that one time, I was in the middle of painting their bedroom and I set down the paintbrush to go to the bathroom. I emerged a few minutes later to find he was soaking said paintbrush in a jar of water in the kitchen. I never learned that conscientiousness because my dad literally followed us kids around and picked up after us. He still does. Just ask anyone who leaves a glass sitting on the coffee table for more than 73 seconds without taking a drink.
  • If I don’t blow my meager 401K and run away to Mexico, I think I may blow it on liposuction. On my stomach and under my chin. And maybe a little tummy tuck. I know that losing 20 pounds doesn’t seem like a lot to most people, but it seems like an enormous task to me. Of course, to lose 20 pounds, I’d have to actually keep going to the gym consistently — I’m trying! Yoga tomorrow, Zumba Saturday, Nia Sunday. And once those are ingrained again (21 days to form a new habit, right?) I’ll add in a day of weights and maybe a spinning class. Oh, and when someone leaves a full package of Pecan Sandies, my All Time Favorite Cookies in the Entire World, on the kitchen counter at work, I’d also have to resist eating 2 or 6, which I didn’t resist doing today. And topping it off with cherry pie for dinner. I’d love to lose 20 pounds by my 40th birthday, which is 12 weeks and two days from now. That’s 1.66667 pounds per week on average. Seems doable for most people, but I have this thing stuck in my head from the past three years of working my ass off or starving my ass off to lose weight and actually gaining weight … and that thing tells me IT CAN’T HAPPEN. I mean, technically, I’d have to cut 5845 calories a week from my diet (or work it off). That’s more than 800 calories a day. Gawd. Liposuction is sounding better and better.
  • But then again, if I’m working out hard five hours a week, burning about 450 calories an hour … and I eat food, mostly plants, not too much … and throw some sex and salsa dancing in for good measure, maybe I could lose 10 pounds by my 40th birthday. See why I need a life coach? I can’t make up my fracking mind.
  • Jean Luc!

    Jean Luc!

    Which brings me to BSG. I am not a science fiction geek, except that I have seen every episode of Star Trek: Next Generation at least twice. But I swear that wasn’t because of the science fiction stuff, but because I had MAJOR crushes on Jean Luc Picard and Number One, Commander Riker. But Steve got me hooked on the idea of Neflixing all the BSG seasons so we could watch the final season on TV. We watched season 1, then got distracted. So here I am, NOT watching the final season only to find out that he has been watching, and the other night we watched the last episode together. Which makes me wonder if I should even bother to watch the other dozens of episodes in between the end of season 1 and the end of the series. Or if I should just know that Earth is populated now by people with Cylon blood, which explains those freaky kids who can superstack cups and people like Rainman who can count toothpicks that spilled on the floor in one glance.

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1 Comment so far
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Hi,
Very enjoyable post!
Best wishes
Maureen

Comment by Maureen




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