Random thoughtspam, largely to assure everyone I'm still alive.
I exercised yesterday! w00t! I am the shit! Tragically, however, I weigh exactly the fucking same as I did two weeks ago. I suppose this is good, as it means I haven't gained any weight, but I also haven't lost any, which is what I'm trying to do here. My short-term goal is two bloody pounds. Why is this so hard?
I am trying to do what I'm supposed to do. I am trying to eat five servings of fruits and vegetables every day, drink my water, and exercise. Do I succeed all the time? No. Am I still trying? Yes. I think I ought to see some reward for my efforts, all the same.
I'm not on a diet per se, nor will I be--the trendy ones scare me, including the Atkins. There is heart disease in my family on both sides, and eating that much fat is called "tempting the hand of Zeus".
If the woman with the screaming child doesn't pimpslap it, or drop-kick it, or something, I swear to all the Gods I will. I'm tempted to grab the mother and tell her that her little crotchdumpling is not nearly as adorable as she seems to think it is. Whispering "Shh" is obviously not working. Sterner disciplinary measures are called for.
If the hellbrat were decently behaved, I wouldn't be so annoyed, but I think three hours of Mommy checking her e-mail is probably more than the attention span of a pre-verbal child (judging by the little shit's incoherent moans, since I cannot actually see the little turd from where I am) should be asked to endure. In which case Mommy is a shitty parent.
Yes, I am feeling crass.
Okay! Three office jobs, two in real estate! Actually, I fucking hate real estate, but I have experience, and that's where the money is. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
In other news, I am enjoying (if that is the word) another paroxysm of BLINDING TERROR that I am not graduate school material and oh my God I suck and if I don't get into graduate school I might as well give up whatever aspirations I have, convert to Christianity of the bland middle-class sort, get married, and set myself to the process of cranking out hellbrats. There is only one way to cure this sort of thing, which is to stand with one's back firmly to the wind and yell,
I WANT TO BE AN ANCIENT HISTORIAN, AND I WILL DO IT, TOO, BY GOD, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU DON'T WANT ME TO.
Yes, I know I promised, and I hate backing out on people like this particularly because I did promise, but it is looking more and more like I won't have the money for baskets, let alone sending them. I will try, okay, I will try to do something for Midsummer's or sommat, but I am not making promises and maybe I should just quit making grandiose plans to do things for people because clearly I can never find the money AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.
Dear N, dear dear N, if you think that I do not notice the ridiculously inappropriately romantic subtext of your recent e-mails, you are wrong. I am trying to delicately sidestep the whole thing, and I am trying too not to be the Clueless Gaijin who thinks if I don't say something, you won't know it. But nonetheless, as much as part of me is saying, Give in, give in, say yes, stop fighting so we can get this out of the way,, the rest of me is saying, No. No to all of it, absolutely and unequivocally no. I wish you would stop, and I don't have the balls to tell you that right now.
Sigh.
I am trying to do what I'm supposed to do. I am trying to eat five servings of fruits and vegetables every day, drink my water, and exercise. Do I succeed all the time? No. Am I still trying? Yes. I think I ought to see some reward for my efforts, all the same.
I'm not on a diet per se, nor will I be--the trendy ones scare me, including the Atkins. There is heart disease in my family on both sides, and eating that much fat is called "tempting the hand of Zeus".
If the woman with the screaming child doesn't pimpslap it, or drop-kick it, or something, I swear to all the Gods I will. I'm tempted to grab the mother and tell her that her little crotchdumpling is not nearly as adorable as she seems to think it is. Whispering "Shh" is obviously not working. Sterner disciplinary measures are called for.
If the hellbrat were decently behaved, I wouldn't be so annoyed, but I think three hours of Mommy checking her e-mail is probably more than the attention span of a pre-verbal child (judging by the little shit's incoherent moans, since I cannot actually see the little turd from where I am) should be asked to endure. In which case Mommy is a shitty parent.
Yes, I am feeling crass.
Okay! Three office jobs, two in real estate! Actually, I fucking hate real estate, but I have experience, and that's where the money is. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
In other news, I am enjoying (if that is the word) another paroxysm of BLINDING TERROR that I am not graduate school material and oh my God I suck and if I don't get into graduate school I might as well give up whatever aspirations I have, convert to Christianity of the bland middle-class sort, get married, and set myself to the process of cranking out hellbrats. There is only one way to cure this sort of thing, which is to stand with one's back firmly to the wind and yell,
I WANT TO BE AN ANCIENT HISTORIAN, AND I WILL DO IT, TOO, BY GOD, NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU DON'T WANT ME TO.
Yes, I know I promised, and I hate backing out on people like this particularly because I did promise, but it is looking more and more like I won't have the money for baskets, let alone sending them. I will try, okay, I will try to do something for Midsummer's or sommat, but I am not making promises and maybe I should just quit making grandiose plans to do things for people because clearly I can never find the money AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.
Dear N, dear dear N, if you think that I do not notice the ridiculously inappropriately romantic subtext of your recent e-mails, you are wrong. I am trying to delicately sidestep the whole thing, and I am trying too not to be the Clueless Gaijin who thinks if I don't say something, you won't know it. But nonetheless, as much as part of me is saying, Give in, give in, say yes, stop fighting so we can get this out of the way,, the rest of me is saying, No. No to all of it, absolutely and unequivocally no. I wish you would stop, and I don't have the balls to tell you that right now.
Sigh.