Guess Who’s Back in the House!

1 10 2014

Well, I have been AWOL for a while, haven’t I? Lots happening.

(Technically AWOL means Absent Without Leave, but this is my blog, so who am supposed to ask for leave? Myself? Should I submit a request in writing?)

Anyway, today I came to talk about weight loss, via my own viewpoint.

I admit it. I got stuck. I lost forty pounds of the sixty four I wanted to and then-Cue tire screech. I don’t know if I was tired or frustrated or bored, but nothing was working.

So then I gave up. NOM NOM NOM FOOD.

I hate French fries because I love them. I avoided not excellent fries but damn, fresh cut fries with a hint of salt and ketchup. Awwwwwww yeah.

Fro-yo needs to stop pretending that it’s healthy. When half of the toppings in the topping bar are candy, STOP PRETENDING that you are anything but somewhat lower calorie ice cream. And you can get as much as you want. Ice cream is actually safer sometimes, at least with ice cream you get a set amount and you pay for it and you leave. Fro-yo is all OH HERE IS A CUP THAT WE PRETEND IS SMALL BUT FILL IT UP WITH TONS OF FROZEN YOGURT AND FRUIT AND RASPBERRY CHOCOLATE AND STRAWBERRY TAPIOCA PEARL THINGS AND THEN YOU HAVE OUNCES UPON OUNCES OF DELICIOUS COLD CALORIES. OF HEALTH LIES.

(Also, black sesame ice cream? SCREW YOU, YOU BASTARD I love you, call me xxx.)

Then, of course, the Frappuccino. Now, I get Mocha Light Frappuccinos. Skinny mocha sauce, non fat milk, the whole she-bang. But. But. What comes out of my mouth is ‘Venti skinny mocha Frappuccino. With whip. And two pumps of raspberry.’ The result? Twenty four ounces of icy chocolate pseudo coffee goodness topped with a crown of whipped cream and oh god it’s good but it’s so bad. It’s like wearing a conservative outfit buttoned up to the chin but then you’ve got a corset and lace semi see through crotch-less panties underneath and no one knows. Get on with your bad self.

So. Yeah. I, plus seven new pounds (grumble pudgy face), am trying to get back on track.

I am tracking on Weight Watchers and on My Fitness Pal (with custom goals), and holy hell am I all over the place.

One: I eat sooooo many carbs. My proportions are about 70% carbs to 13% fat to 17% protein. It’s a little ridiculous. I gotta give up the waffles. Breakfast should have protein! Maybe I’ll do a smoothie and eggs. Something.

Two: Night time? OMG I WANT CHIPS. ICE CREAM. HONEYCOMB CEREAL! At the moment I’m munching on the occasional apple and drinking tea. I also need to start doing origami again. Keeps your hands busy. I made a bird! And a little box. But man, cranes are hard.

Three: Man, I keep eating my feelings. Happy? TIME FOR ICE CREAM! Sad? *sob into food* Angry? Booze and chips! Bored: …whatever.

I should just use my elliptical more. It’s just so easy not to!

But, starting next week, there are going to be fitness classes in my life. (High intensity core, yoga and/or Zumba!) So I think that will help.

I just have to fit in exercise in between classes, studying, homework, writing, cooking, dog, boyfriend (I love you magpie!) and whatever else happens to fall on my head. Whatever. It’s past midnight, I’m supposed to be sleeping. And in the morning? I’m not making waffles!

I’m making ginger cookies instead.

Oh boy.

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Socially Awkwardly Speaking

27 03 2014

 

I read this today, Socially Awkward isn’t an excuse. Go read it, it’s a good article.

It’s awesome. And I’m saying that as someone who is, in fact, socially awkward.

My entire adolescence, counting the beginning of my college career, I was really socially awkward.

Not to put too fine a point on it, there were a lot of times I came off as creepy.

And as the article points out, people who are actually socially awkward? Care that they don’t know where the lines are. I had no idea, I only knew when I had crossed the line. When I had upset someone. When I’d got it wrong. And it upset me every time.

It took a lot of therapy and people pushing me away for me to learn. Even now, it’s not innate. I have to be aware of what I say and how I say it, how I carry myself. I know where the lines are, for the most part. And I’m a woman; I come off as less creepy by default. But all the same, sometimes I was really creepy, and I know I upset people. I’m sorry for that.

I could say that I had issues. I did, and pretty serious ones. I still do. But it’s not an excuse. I can’t apologize for my behavior, I’m pretty sure the person in question never wants to hear from me again. All I can say is that I had no ill intent. Not once.

Creepers? The ones who know where the boundaries are, and don’t care? They should stop making excuses that make people with real social problems look worse than they already do, and get over themselves. As someone who is socially awkward and reformed from creepy behavior, I ask them to cut it out.

***

I have been trying not to say or use the word ‘retarded’. It’s ableist, and I don’t want to be that. Or hurt anyone’s feelings. (I mean, I would never use it to refer to someone with a mental disability.) But sometimes I just use it casually, like ‘Oh, that’s retarded.’ And I’m not saying everyone has to stop using it, or that I’ve stopped doing it entirely, ’cause I haven’t. But everyone, just try to be aware. I think we’d be better off.

***

Magpie and I are still together and happy. It’ll be a year this summer. We’re so comfortable together.

It’s not that I don’t have issues with our relationship. I mean, we have a little friction here and there, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

I hate my past sometimes. It interferes.

Sometimes when he’s holding me I want to squirm away from him. But it’s not really him I want to get away from. I have nightmares more often now. I don’t sleep as well when he’s next to me, even though I love when he’s there.

And as much as he proves every day that he’s in love with me and cares for me, that he wouldn’t change me…something in the back of my head tells me, every day:

Be careful. He could hurt you. He might change. He might pin you down and take everything from you.

This isn’t something you want lurking in your mind, about your boyfriend. About anyone.

I’ve told him about this.

And you know what?

He still wants to be with me. He loves me enough to work with me.

Aren’t I lucky?

For the first time in my life, I really think I am.

Sincerely yours,

J.J





Attitude is everything.

13 01 2014

I am having a down day, which led to me missing the walk in advising hours that I need to attend for class, which leads me to tell myself that I’m useless and I should give up.

But I sent an e-mail to an instructor on the advising schedule, and we see what we do, no? I’ll keep going. And try to write in the meantime. I’ve got work tomorrow.

I don’t like work anymore.

And you know why? The director of the place where I work is terrible. I think a good boss is someone who can manage, delegate, take responsibility, and tell people the truth without dragging them down. Someone who can inspire people to follow them, rather than someone who is followed because their subordinates have no choice.

She called me into her office, and blindsided me with everything I was doing wrong. (I was out for a while with the stomach flu, and apparently I had a chronic lateness problem, which no one mentioned up until that moment. I admit that being late isn’t good, but it wasn’t as if I was strolling in half an hour late every day, and again, no one said anything.)

And my real problem was that the entire meeting was essentially ‘This is why you suck, and I should fire you, but I’m doing you a favor and not doing it’ and she was condescending the entire time. I was in tears. And apparently I’m not the only one she’s done this to! People are uncomfortable. And my co-workers say they enjoy my presence and that I work well with them and that I can do the job. No one has complained about how I work or how I speak to them, yet she said that my former immediate superior said I came off as defensive. Yet no one told me that either so that I could modify my behavior before it got to that level!

Sorry. I’m mad. So now I don’t feel confident at work anymore, if I see the director I get tense and I think poorly of her, I notice other people’s complaints more…it’s not a good environment. I’ll last until I’ve been there a year, and then I’m done. It’s not as if it’s my dream job anyway.

I know everyone can’t have their dream job. But I think I could make it as a writer, or maybe an editor, if I study, if I practice! Besides, I think I’ve figured out that a nine to five doing something that I don’t like or is boring isn’t sustainable for me anyway. I’m such a delicate flower, after all. Tee hee.

Like I said, attitude is everything. And even though today is a down day, I think everything is going to be all right.

On a high note, Magpie got a new job. Yay! He is super excited, as he gets. (Maybe not quite as excited as he is about the game he’s writing, but he’s pretty into his own head anyway.) Maybe a little place together isn’t so far off.

It’s a little scary to be making future plans, but I’m going to go with it. Attitude is everything.

…even when your boss sucks.

Sincerely yours,

J.J

 





How Long is the Honeymoon Period, anyway?

31 12 2013

I’m at work, so I guess technically I’m not supposed to be blogging, but a. Nothing is going on except for the occasional phone call and client coming in, b. no one is watching me, and c. it’s New Year’s Eve and I’m bored.

So whatever.

I think I have a cold, which means it’s probably advisable not to get super drunk tonight? Right? Anyone?

Nah. Totally drinking anyway. Also possibly getting cake. ‘Cause it wasn’t just my birthday or anything and I didn’t eat…about half the cake? No, it wasn’t half the cake. I mean, Magpie (my boyfriend, so nicknamed because of his propensity to spot and pick up shiny things on the ground) had some, Mom had some, and two others had some, so…maybe I ate a third of the cake over…four days? (Guess what my New Year’s Resolution is? Back on Weight Watchers!)

Cake cake cake cake cake. Seriously, if anyone’s ever in New York City- (Is this the first time I’ve actually mentioned where I am? No one come look for me! Tee hee. Actually, if I ever met anyone who read this blog I’d probably be all OMG let’s be friends and want to swap e-mails.)

Anyway, if anyone’s in New York City, go to Sal’s and…is it Dino?’s Crap, I don’t remember and I can’t check Yelp on my-oh, never mind, I can. (I’ve been surfing the net for the last fifteen minutes or so. I am easily distracted. Especially by Cake Wrecks.) Anyway, it’s Sal’s and Dom’s. Best red velvet cake I’ve had. So. Good. OMG. It’s in the Bronx and around the holidays it’s a madhouse but OMG CAKE. EAT IT.

Ahem. I love cake. That is all.

I really do have to work out more, my stamina is crap. It probably doesn’t help that I stopped working out after I got the stomach flu, which wiped me out even after I stopped throwing up. Nausea plus dizziness plus exhaustion equals J.J. curled up in front of Netflix and eating sour candies and drinking ginger ale and not moving.

I have really started baking. For the holidays I made gingerbread cookies, brownies for Magpie’s parents, sugar cookies for a holiday party, and now I want to learn to make bread, so I’m doing what I always do and going online to read tutorials. …I supposed I will have to buy a loaf pan. I mean, I think I have one, but a. I have no idea where it is or what shape it’s in, b. I really don’t feel like ransacking my entire kitchen to find it, and c. I seem to end up needing two for this recipe I found. So two new loaf pans it is.

I also need to practice piping icing, ’cause holy hell it is harder than it looks. You think you just squeeze the bag, the icing comes out in a neat little line, and you paint smiles on your gingerbread people/decorations on your cake. No! You have to squeeze the bag with both hands, and keep it steady or it looks like you’re trying to make dashes instead of lines, and the icing has to be fresh and if you squeeze too hard you just make a mess and if you squeeze too lightly nothing happens or the icing comes out in these dots that look like white bunny poop. Man, this sudden desire to be Betty Crocker is difficult.

It’s so quiet. I think I’ll play some music. *goes to Pandora* Ooh, Rent. Light My Candle is pretty depressing, really. ‘Hey, my girlfriend died/I do drugs and I’m a S&M dancer/I think I like you/Me too/Our lives aren’t that great.’

Oh, I got my first rejection! A few weeks ago, from the student literary magazine. I was almost expecting it, because I rushed my submission, but I still hoped. But no. I was apparently trying to be Lolita, cliché, and lacking editing skills. Ouch. I guess I’d better step it up, or get into a new gig, no? It’s a little humbling, when I thought I could just go on in, but I guess writing really is like everything else, in which you have to practice.

Holy cheese, 700 words and I just now get to the topic mentioned in the title of the post.

How long is the honeymoon period? After lengthy research (by which I mean whatever sites I could get to from Google that aren’t blocked at work), it seems to be anywhere from a few months to two years after marriage. So, what, I’m going to be happy to see Magpie for…well, I don’t think we’re getting married anytime soon, but we’ve survived my mood swings, my stomach flu, his issues, my issues, small arguments, and the fact that we both live with our parents, and it’s only been six months-ish. So, is our honeymoon period over? How are you supposed to know? And I’ve seen people together twenty years who act like they’re still mad about each other and people who break up a few months in, so how does that work?

I think this is typical me. ‘I’m happy with something. WHAT’S GOING TO GO WRONG?’

You know what? I’m just going to go with it. I’m happy. I’m not going to try to dissect it for once. If our biggest issue that he doesn’t like that I eat pork (he doesn’t on the grounds that pigs are smart and that chicken and fish are stupid and therefore okay to eat) and I get annoyed that he tries to do high kicks on the subway platform and people stare, I think we’re fine.  (I’m considering maybe giving up pork. Maybe. I like pork. If he promises not to do high kicks on the subway ’cause it’s embarrassing and I worry that he’ll accidentally kick someone and then we become the people who get into a fight on the subway.)

I think I might buy him some pants next paycheck. He needs new pants that don’t look like they’re made to do construction in. He doesn’t really dress up ever ’cause he’s that type. But he looks so good in a button down! /stupid girlfriend whining

I try not to be the ‘omg change your clothes fix your hair what are those shoes’ girlfriend, I really do, but it’s like, ‘Babe, you dress like you’re in high school, stop it.’ Oh well, it doesn’t seem to bother him much. He’s pretty unflappable. Unless I make him watch Project Runway, which he doesn’t like. Probably because it’s about drama and clothes, two things he doesn’t care about. But he says I’m a good girlfriend, so I will try to stay that way. Also we have excellent cuddles and he’s emotionally supportive and- *stops before she goes on and on about how awesome the BF is*

Quick really shameful shallow note: I sometimes wish he were hotter. I mean, I’m attracted to him, and he’s not ugly by any means. But I think my urge to dress him up is a shallow need to have other people think he’s attractive and think that I have an ugly boyfriend. But that’s treating him like a status symbol, and he’s a person, and a good person at that, so I’m trying to get over it. I’m no model anyway. (I’m pretty, but that’s totally different.) Well, actually, a lot of models aren’t that pretty, if we’re talking about conventionally pretty. They’re too tall and angular and such. Whatever. My point is that I love him, but I am apparently shallow enough to wish that he would not dress and cut his hair like a high schooler! I’m going to get stopped one day by a cop who thinks I’ve got a boy-toy!

Okay, this post is getting long, so I’m going to stop now. Happy New Year, everyone!

Sincerely yours,

J.J





A Christmas Reapperance

24 12 2013

Merry Christmas Everyone!

I have a part time job in an office! Had it for a few months now, but I’ve been MIA so I’m announcing it now with the celebratory call of the employed: YESSSSSSSSSMON-NAY!

I mean, I’ll probably only be here until September, because I’ve been promised full time schooling in the fall! YAY FOR EDUCATION! But then I’ll go back to food service and not wearing real clothes to work. Unless I get a super ultimately cool internship! Which would be super ultimately cool! (…I’ve been watching too much anime.)

Still with my new boyfriend! (I mean, we’ve been dating since July, so he’s not new, per say, but whatever.) We spent Thanksgiving with his family and we’re splitting Christmas between lunch with his parents and the rest of the day with my family! We’ve survived my stomach flu, we don’t fight (well, I mean, we disagree, but we communicate!) and we laugh a lot.

He’s still not super hunky, but sometimes I get this fluttery caramel feeling looking at his face. I don’t get it.

We’ve exchanged ‘I love you’s. He said it first. I totally said it without planning; it just popped out. It makes me excited and terrified and OMG and like a cork popped out of a bottle of champagne when I wasn’t expecting it.

My therapist worries that it’s not a good thing, since he’s only tutoring right now and doesn’t have a steady job and might not be a forever kind of guy. I hope he turns out to be, but I hear where she’s coming from. It’s not like he’s not looking for work or something. He’s not very materialistic, but I think he likes the idea of supporting me and saving up for a place,  so I think it’ll give him a good kick in the butt even though he’s not a fan of job searching, it stresses him out. (He’s less social than I am, if you can believe it.)

I like having a job. Makes me feel like I have purpose and such. Not as much as a publishing job would, but you know, baby steps!

I have gotten totally into baking lately. I really hope a mixer is under the tree tomorrow, the one I have is a bit old and only has those silver mixing curly sticks. I bought all my presents already, but tonight is wrapping night/brownie night! I’m making my boyfriend’s parents brownies for Christmas. And the buzz from him is that my family totally likes me! YAAAAAY.

What’s everyone hoping for this Christmas? (Or what did you get for Hanukkah?)

Also, what exactly is up with Instagram? Everyone at work is all ‘Oh, I don’t do Facebook, Instagram is where it’s at’.

 

I think I’m going to start over again with Weight Watchers in the New Year. I’ve been stuck stuck stuck at 152 since my stupid stomach flu-I lost about four pounds but then was so weak afterwards that I totally stopped exercising and then the holidays came around and there was pie and stuffing and office parties and…and…I am weak to those things. And it’s almost my birthday, which means my favorite red velvet cake…yup, New Year’s Resolution is the best way to go. Get back on the wagon, so to speak! I’m not going the ‘It’s the holidays, so it doesn’t count’ route though, I might as well accept another five pounds, and I’m not doing that!

 

Did everyone watch this season of the Walking Dead? IT WAS AWESOME. It comes back in February, so if you’re behind, it’s time to catch up! Unless you can’t do gore, ’cause this show has blood and guts everywhere.

Oh, other New Year’s resolutions: More posts and more writing!

Speaking of which, I really should be doing that, so I’ll sign off. Merry Christmas, everyone, and if I don’t get on, Happy New Year too!

Sincerely yours,

J.J





I was going to write a coherent post. Then stuff happened.

4 08 2013

 

Drum roll please.

…I SAID DRUM ROLL PLEASE.

Thank you!

I…

Have a new boyfriend! OMG! It’s so crazy.

Now, he’s no Benedict Cumberbatch. (Is anyone?) I think that’s only occurred to me because the media has constantly provided us with the idea that love requires physical near-perfection and constant conflict,

He might not be the prettiest face, but he’s not ugly, and I like him very much. What’s the quote? ‘Love is not finding a perfect person, but learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.’ Don’t remember who said it. The words are more important.

I’ll call him…hmmm, he needs a nickname. I will call him Sweetness, ’cause he is really quite sweet. Sometimes sweeter than I can handle.

He’s not exactly clingy, but he can hover a little bit. He likes to hold my hand, which I don’t mind. And he cares. He remembers little things. I mentioned a book I couldn’t get from the library, he found it for me. When I was having a bad day he told me to call him any time. And I feel safe in his arms. For me, that means a lot.

Also (innocents, cover your ears), I haven’t had full on sex with him yet. He seems to enjoy getting me off,  quietly, and we haven’t had much privacy, so it’s really slow, especially for me.  And he’s okay with it.

I think that’s the best part. Plus the hope.

The hope that maybe it’s forever. And the hope that we’ll have fun. We already have fun. We’re awkward together, we’re fun together, we wander around for hours and never get bored. We like to cuddle.

Let’s see where we are by December.

In the meantime, I think I’m getting a cold, so I’m going to keep this short.

What’s everyone’s favorite part of a relationship?

Sincerely yours,

J.J.

P.S. I’ve gained four pounds. I weep. But Sweetness wants me to go jogging with him, so that’ll be fun, no?





Starbucks Is Eating All My Money

23 06 2013

I have a Frappuccino addiction, and with someone at my income level it is devastating. I have very little money, and when I get money, do I save it? Nope. I justify that whatever piddly amount I have isn’t worth putting towards my student loans or savings and spend it like I have thousands just waiting to be spent. It’s not like I have rent or bills or anything, so who cares, goes the mentality. Oddly enough, once I have a steady paycheck, I’ll probably be a lot better with money and budgeting.

Also, any of the Light Frappuccinos at Starbucks don’t automatically come with Skinny syrup. They are made with skim milk and I think the base is different, but the syrup isn’t, you have to ask for that separately. It doesn’t change the price, but you would think that the low calorie version would have sugar free syrup, or at least the versions that  would use the sugar free syrups that they already carry. Yes? No?

Other things I hate about Starbucks:

1. Baristas who get pissed when you tell them they messed up your drink. I’ve done that job, I know once a drink is done you want to forget about it. But I never got an attitude about it.

2. People who don’t know what they want. ‘I want something with chocolate. No, I don’t know what it’s called. I WANT CHOCOLATE.’

3. The ‘real’ Starbucks are inconsistent as hell when they make my Frappuccinos. Too thick, ice chunks, funny taste. I have a favorite barista in the frickin’ Barnes and Noble Starbucks. She makes it perfectly. I need her to make a tutorial or something.

Now there is a break, because I had to take a Benedryl and I’m too sleepy to type properly.

THE NEXT DAY

Bobbi Brown wrote this makeup manual, and the girly part of me that doesn’t care about practicality or sense or anything that isn’t soft and pink and glittery is all OMG I MUST HAVE ALL OF THESE PRODUCTS WHEE. The rest of me is all ‘…who the hell has the time or money or inclination to buy and use of these things? There’s twenty different brushes and sponges and what?’ Maybe I’m just bitter because I can never find a makeup that covers but doesn’t give me zits and doesn’t feel like thin cake batter on my face. …or maybe I don’t want to spend twenty minutes every day fixing my face and blending foundation and penciling my eyebrows.

…maybe I should get a makeup consultation or something. Or read the rest of the book. When I have money to buy it and take it home and put different things on my face.

Okay, now I’m going to talk about Active Link, Weight Watcher’s activity tracker thingy. I am now obsessed with it. I feel badly about myself if I don’t get 100% activity goal every day. It’ll be ten thirty at night and I’m doing jumping jacks like a mad woman going ‘I’M ONLY 98%, I HAVE TO MAKE 100% ARGH I AM OBSESSED.

No, really, I keep poking the jiggly areas of my body in frustration and then I go into plank. And then I eat baby carrots and pita chips and hummus. Mmm. So crunchy.

And I really really really want to like yogurt. And I don’t unless it’s really sweetened, which totally defeats the purpose of yogurt. So I want a smoothie, but then it tastes too much like yogurt and I don’t like it unless I put Crystal Light in it and ARGH HEALTHY FILLING EATING IS HARD. Sometimes I just want a cheeseburger with bacon and fries. And a milkshake. A chocolate milkshake. Sigh.

But I’m having a turkey burger with grilled potatoes, possibly with steamed broccoli. And that’s pretty good too.

Sincerely yours,

J.J