LJ Idol - Season 11, Week 0 - Introductions
I think I had to blow some dust off the cover of this Internet journal, it's basically this GIF:
Where to begin? How much do you know, or remember? How much do I know? This competition is already putting me in a cerebral haze, and I haven't even written anything yet. Anyway.
Hi, my name is Patricia. I'm a 30 year old Aries who enjoys long naps while you walk on the beach, because I am a mountain person and not a beach person.
I am halfway to 31 now, but it still feels weird to say I am 30. I keep ticking boxes on surveys that indicate the "20-29" age range, even still.
I live alone with my two ginger cats named Pixel and Pumpkin, but that is likely to change this winter. Due to the aforementioned changes, my life is very much in flux right now. I have been in higher education administration at the same institution since 2013, but am ready to make a change - however, the right tides haven't shifted in my favor quite yet. Let's hope they do before my lease ends in November, because I already took that leap of faith and declined to renew. (shh if you are on my Facebook, this one is still largely under wraps).
Why am I moving? If you guessed it's to follow a boy, you'd be absolutely right. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson, since following a boy is what got me to this city in 2012. But I don't think, even now, that I've learned as far as matters of the heart are concerned. Not a damn thing. I was widowed young and unceremoneously in October of 2016, and am still processing my fiance Gabriel's suicide nearly 3 years later. I found love again in early 2018, admitted that it was in fact love in the summer of 2018, and will hopefully be in his arms on a permanent basis in the winter of 2019.
Now that I've dropped that depressing lump of congealed sadness on you, what's left? I book blog these days, over here. I review young adult titles and adult thrillers, mostly. I've fallen in with a wonderful crowd on book twitter, and genuinely enjoy my time there. Books have been my constant refuge in a sea of turbulent "what the fuck-ery" since I was very small, and I don't know if that will ever change. I certainly hope not. When I am not blogging or reading or Tweeting, I am playing video games online or on my Nintendo Switch, taking a nap, volunteering for the Crisis Text Line, or doing homework for my Masters in Public Administration - a program I should be graduating from in December. I still don't know if I'll be processing - I already have one Masters, but I worked so hard for this one and working full time while pursuing a graduate degree is no small feat. Why an MPA? I want to be Leslie Knope when I grow up, but in a nonprofit or association.
In 2015-2016 I lost over 50 pounds. Unfortunately, I ate back every single one of those pounds after my Gabriel's death, plus another 50 or so for good measure. It's finally falling back off - I have lost 39 pounds since June 21st of this year. I don't talk about it much because I find that when I do, I don't see the results I see when I keep it quiet. There's probably some cerebral explanation for this, but I don't know what it is. I count calories like crazy and am constantly weighing and measuring snacks. I am forever thinking about my next meal or snack, just not for the same reasons as before. I will add exercise back in once I have lost 50 pounds. At least, that's the idea. I eat an entire (small) thin crust frozen pizza every Friday night, and that is 870 calories I refuse to ever feel guilt over.
I have one sister, younger, who is 20 years old, a college Junior and learning how to play tabletop games much to my delight. I sat here last night, remembering 20 year old me who wore a D20 necklace and smiling to myself. 10 years apart in age, yet the older she gets the more I see we are still more alike than different. My father is retired due to lay-off, not by choice, and my mother works part time at Hobby Lobby. I saw my dad at Christmas with a shock of grey hair and I did an actual, cartoonish double-take. I am not prepared for my parents to become old, but they both turn 60 next year. I am afraid of this, but don't know what to do about it.
I drive a 2014 fire-engine red Toyota Camry named Phoenix. It really needs to be detailed, inside and out both. I am left-handed, and hate the taste of grapefruit. I love sushi, but I don't like sashimi. I collect bookmarks, fun stationary, Starbucks "You Are Here" mugs, and book sleeves. I carry a book with me wherever I go - if you were to come over, you'd see me mindlessly carrying my current read from the sofa to the kitchen while I make a snack, to the bathroom while I pee, to the bedroom for a nap. I rarely actually crack the cover, but I just can't bear the thought of not having a book beside me.
Hi, I'm Patricia. I'm 30 years old, and I'm here to tell some stories.
(Cat tax)
Where to begin? How much do you know, or remember? How much do I know? This competition is already putting me in a cerebral haze, and I haven't even written anything yet. Anyway.
Hi, my name is Patricia. I'm a 30 year old Aries who enjoys long naps while you walk on the beach, because I am a mountain person and not a beach person.
I am halfway to 31 now, but it still feels weird to say I am 30. I keep ticking boxes on surveys that indicate the "20-29" age range, even still.
I live alone with my two ginger cats named Pixel and Pumpkin, but that is likely to change this winter. Due to the aforementioned changes, my life is very much in flux right now. I have been in higher education administration at the same institution since 2013, but am ready to make a change - however, the right tides haven't shifted in my favor quite yet. Let's hope they do before my lease ends in November, because I already took that leap of faith and declined to renew. (shh if you are on my Facebook, this one is still largely under wraps).
Why am I moving? If you guessed it's to follow a boy, you'd be absolutely right. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson, since following a boy is what got me to this city in 2012. But I don't think, even now, that I've learned as far as matters of the heart are concerned. Not a damn thing. I was widowed young and unceremoneously in October of 2016, and am still processing my fiance Gabriel's suicide nearly 3 years later. I found love again in early 2018, admitted that it was in fact love in the summer of 2018, and will hopefully be in his arms on a permanent basis in the winter of 2019.
Now that I've dropped that depressing lump of congealed sadness on you, what's left? I book blog these days, over here. I review young adult titles and adult thrillers, mostly. I've fallen in with a wonderful crowd on book twitter, and genuinely enjoy my time there. Books have been my constant refuge in a sea of turbulent "what the fuck-ery" since I was very small, and I don't know if that will ever change. I certainly hope not. When I am not blogging or reading or Tweeting, I am playing video games online or on my Nintendo Switch, taking a nap, volunteering for the Crisis Text Line, or doing homework for my Masters in Public Administration - a program I should be graduating from in December. I still don't know if I'll be processing - I already have one Masters, but I worked so hard for this one and working full time while pursuing a graduate degree is no small feat. Why an MPA? I want to be Leslie Knope when I grow up, but in a nonprofit or association.
In 2015-2016 I lost over 50 pounds. Unfortunately, I ate back every single one of those pounds after my Gabriel's death, plus another 50 or so for good measure. It's finally falling back off - I have lost 39 pounds since June 21st of this year. I don't talk about it much because I find that when I do, I don't see the results I see when I keep it quiet. There's probably some cerebral explanation for this, but I don't know what it is. I count calories like crazy and am constantly weighing and measuring snacks. I am forever thinking about my next meal or snack, just not for the same reasons as before. I will add exercise back in once I have lost 50 pounds. At least, that's the idea. I eat an entire (small) thin crust frozen pizza every Friday night, and that is 870 calories I refuse to ever feel guilt over.
I have one sister, younger, who is 20 years old, a college Junior and learning how to play tabletop games much to my delight. I sat here last night, remembering 20 year old me who wore a D20 necklace and smiling to myself. 10 years apart in age, yet the older she gets the more I see we are still more alike than different. My father is retired due to lay-off, not by choice, and my mother works part time at Hobby Lobby. I saw my dad at Christmas with a shock of grey hair and I did an actual, cartoonish double-take. I am not prepared for my parents to become old, but they both turn 60 next year. I am afraid of this, but don't know what to do about it.
I drive a 2014 fire-engine red Toyota Camry named Phoenix. It really needs to be detailed, inside and out both. I am left-handed, and hate the taste of grapefruit. I love sushi, but I don't like sashimi. I collect bookmarks, fun stationary, Starbucks "You Are Here" mugs, and book sleeves. I carry a book with me wherever I go - if you were to come over, you'd see me mindlessly carrying my current read from the sofa to the kitchen while I make a snack, to the bathroom while I pee, to the bedroom for a nap. I rarely actually crack the cover, but I just can't bear the thought of not having a book beside me.
Hi, I'm Patricia. I'm 30 years old, and I'm here to tell some stories.
(Cat tax)