scientific

The other day I bought a certain Pilates magazine. I don't know why, but I kinda thought it would be a sort of informative journal full of innovative ideas and current methodology concerning technique and style. No sir. It's advertising space and traditional thinking. I should have known. Really, I should have. I was asking my instructor if she knew of any good resources and the first one she suggested was Men's Health.

For real? Yes.

She admitted that it had a lot of stupid ("really stupid," I offered) shit in it but that it also had some great info on working out and nutrition and stuff. So I stole her husband's copy, um, out of the bathroom, at the gym.

where?

I've been getting asked for directions a lot lately. Like, more in the past month than I've ever been asked since I moved here three years ago. I don't know what it is. I'm pretty sure I'm wearing the same bitter scowl that I usually have, so why have people started thinking I'd be helpful? (Some of you know my sneaking suspicion about why this is but it hasn't been received with enthusiasm so I'm keeping it to myself.)

A few weeks ago I around 9PM I was walking downtown when a woman asked me where 12th street was. I pointed her north, she beckoned to her group, and I continued walking south. Not only did I apparently look like I was approachable but I knew where to direct her without any hesitation. I was feeling pretty good about myself, until I noticed that the next block down said 12th street. Oops. That took me down a peg. The really sad thing is that that group would probably walk up to 14th, realize they must have missed 12th then walk back down to where they ran into me, continuing to think they're still missing it. Because why would someone give them bad directions? 12th must be between 14th and that place where we met that nice man, because he pointed us north.

Stupid tourists.

I also gave some tourists directions to Grimaldi's yesterday. And this time I really did know how to get there. When they learned that I had never been they invited me to go with them. I was seriously tempted but then I probably would've arrived to work an hour and a half late, and I couldn't quite justify that in my head.

I updated this post. Every store will now have the "Scene" feature.

help me!

Seriously. I would really appreciate your opinion.

Here's the deal:

I'm trying to change my job and start teaching Pilates for a living. Right now I have a full time job (37-40 hours a week) at the theater where I've worked for three years. I have dental and health insurance at this job but I don't like it very much and I get out late (8PM). I also teach Pilates at a gym 3 days a week. Right now my number of sessions at the gym fluctuates between 3 to 6. So I'm not making much there. There's the potential that that number could increase but it depends on the clients so I can't necessarily depend on it. I'm also barely teaching at a studio (keep in your head: theater, gym and studio) but I don't get paid at that job since those teaching hours are part of my certification in Pilates. I still have about 70 hours to finish before I'll get paid out there. It's taken me about 4 months to teach 80 hours and since I'm busier now (with other things) it'll probably take me at least another 4 months, meaning next February, before I'll start getting paid.

A friend of mine teaches at another studio and told me that the owner was looking for instructors. I met with the owner yesterday and gave her a lesson and she said she'd be interested in taking me on as an apprentice (since I'm not fully certified), meaning that I would get paid, just not that much. But she doesn't need me when I'm free, she needs someone to be available in the evenings. I told her I would figure out some way to make it work with my job at the theater but that would basically mean leaving work about 2 hours early and I'm not so sure they'd like that.

So here's my question. Am I trying to take on too much at once? Should I forget about this apprenticeship thing and just concentrate on my job at the theater, work at the gym, and finish up my hours at the original studio? None of the hours I work at other studios or gyms count as hours toward my certification, these first 150 hours have to be done at that studio. Or would I be letting a great opportunity go by not starting at this second studio? Would it be better to finish up those 150 hours so I'd at least have that done and wouldn't have to worry about traveling out to DUMBO without getting paid?

I really don't know. What do you think?

professional

Can you spot the typo in the following message I sent from my work email?

Hi Jennifer,

I did receive your fax, thank you. Don't forget that your reaming balance is due no later than February 2, 2008.

I hope you're having a lovely week.

Sincerely,
ipj

You get what you pay for.

you dope

Today was another 4AM morning, though I was able to push back waking up until 4:30 by cutting all my fruit and getting my bag ready last night. Which means I pretty much just jumped out of bed, brushed my teeth, showered and ran down to the train. On the subway ride out to DUMBO I started thinking about how my throat kind of hurt and that that probably indicated I hadn't been getting enough sleep lately. I also thought about how it's been taking me a little longer to fully wake up in the mornings, most likely again due to lack of sleep.

I arrived in DUMBO with one minute to spare and unlocked the door to the exercise studio where I'm working, which promptly set the alarm to beep at me. I walked over the the alarm panel and. And what? Do you know? 'Cause I sure didn't. I looked at it, some numbers popped into my head, I figured they were probably right and started typing. After typing in 5 digits I had the vague feeling that something was wrong. I typed in the same 5 digits again before I fully realized that there are only 4 digits for this alarm. I was starting to panic now. I was pretty sure I had the numbers right, I just needed to take one out. The next problem was that I was only using four numbers but hitting one of them twice but I was sure there was one digit in the code twice but I was also sure that I needed to use all four of the numbers I was entering. I had one last desperate attempt and then, obviously, set off the alarm. I've been working here since February and I set off the alarm. That fucker is LOUD! And it did it's job because when it when off, I ran. I grabbed my phone and booked it out of there. I called my boss (at 6AM) and she tried to explain how to turn the alarm off. Unfortunately, my phone kind of sucks and I don't have the best hearing so I kept saying 'what?' over and over, sounding like an idiot. I finally turned off the alarm and luckily my boss knew I'm (usually) great and wasn't pissed at all. Once she told me the correct code I realized that I had been entering a short conglomeration of the correct alarm code, the alarm code at my other job and my ATM pin number. I then had to call the alarm company and rattle off variations on a word (once again kind of sounding like an idiot) hoping one of them was the key word to let them know everything was okay.

Then the police arrived.

I'm still a bit frazzled. And tired.

you what?

During lunch the other day Isaac and I decided to leave the bitter dullness of Times Square and take the subway somewhere far away. (Specifically to Magnolia, the purpose of which I'll blog about in the future.) Unfortunately I forgot that I didn't have a metrocard. I get TransitChecks through my work and they were apparently delivered to my office last Monday, when I wasn't there. Instead of the delivery person leaving the card with my boss she took it back to her office (in another building) and neglected to tell me. So when Wednesday rolled around, I swiped my card to discover that it had expired. So I ended up having to buy two one-way tickets that morning; I had to head out to DUMBO before I came to work. Stupidly, I didn't go pick up my new card before lunch. So when we went down into the subway I walked toward the turnstile, reached into my pocket for my wallet and suddenly yelled, "Fuck! I don't have my metrocard!" I said this a little too loud and annoyingly. But then, this hot older silver-haired man turned around (on the other side of the turnstile) and said, "Here, you can use mine." I took quizzically, swiped it quizzically, gave it back and said thank you, still confused. What is the action of kindness you are offering me? I think what perplexed me was how could I use his unlimited card if he had just used it? Because why would anyone let me, a complete stranger, use one of the paid rides on his card? After he left I realized that I wasn't quite profuse enough in my thanks. I should have run after him and offered him something. A hand job for you kindness sir? I would have done it too. He was silver fox. Thank you hot stranger.

So I bought Fit for Life and I'm reading it. Now if you look at me quizzically and say, "But you're not fat" Ima punch you. Just because I'm relatively thin does not mean I'm healthy. And although this book does often talk about losing weight it's mainly a way to eat well. I'm at about page 70 and what I've gleaned so far is that fruit is the body's best friend. And that you should skip breakfast or just eat lots of fruit for breakfast. So that's what I'm doing. I cut up a bunch of fruit last night in preparation for today, which brings me to the "meat" of my post: how in the hell do you cut a mango? I fucking butchered that thing. The mango was probably about the size of two of my fists but I think I only got like 3/4 of a cup of fruit out of it. It was a mess. I was jabbing and slicing as hard as I could. Don't those things have a pit or something? I couldn't even get to it. I put the mango along with some honeydew and kiwi all in a tupperware container and took it with me this morning. This turned out to not be such a good idea. Since each of those fruits was pretty juicy their flavors all kind of ran together, but not in a pleasant way. Ueh, this is dull. That's the kind of post you get at 7AM.

opinion vs fact

Isaac and ipj are discussing Casino Royale:

Isaac: That was a good scene.
ipj: It was bad.
Isaac: Why can't you say I think it was bad.
ipj: Why can't you say I think it was good.
Isaac: Fine. I think it was a good scene.
ipj: Well it wasn't!



I'm pretty sure people have started dropping the . off the end of vs, as I did in the title of this post. This confuses me. Does vs no longer stand for versus? And also, no one says versus anymore; now we're supposed to say the letters v and s.* As in Brown vee-ess the Board of Education or Godzilla vee-ess Mothra. Could someone explain that to me. It doesn't shorten anything. It's certainly not easier to say. Is it some new politically correct thing where opposing sides are no longer considered opponents but mutually working towards the betterment of mankind with just differing opinions? What? Exactly. And if we have to say vee-ess does that mean we should start saying ampersand whenever there's a & sign? Like Ben ampersand Jerry's? Because I'm not going to do that. Though for the sake of consistency in ridiculousness I might try to convince everyone else to.

It's time to get rid of my nearly four year old gym shoes. These things hurt my feet. But I can deal with that; I've been dealing with it for months. And if you know me you'll know that a little thing like pain isn't enough of an impetus to overcome my laziness and distaste for shopping and hence spending money. The real problem now is that they smell. Stanky smell. I don't think they ever fully recovered from the wet soggy mess they became after that rainstorm a few weeks ago. This is a real problem for me since, as many of you know, I hate wearing shoes. I take them off as much as possible. But now I'm embarrassed by the smell. I might have to do a quick fix with some baking soda until I get some new shoes. Of course, there's the possibility that I'll allow the quick fix to turn into a long term solution. The alternative is to refuse to wear shoes at all. I mean, I grew up walking barefoot on gravel, how much worse can the streets of New York be?

*Please note: these perceptions pretty much come from high school experiences, nearly 10 years ago. I have no idea what anyone does anymore.

nutrition

The subway ride home after experiencing my personal version of dance hell (in short form):

Isaac: What should I have for dinner?
ipj: Peanut butter and raw honey.
Isaac: That's not a meal!
ipj: It is if you eat a lot of it.

ouch!

You know what hurts? Popping a tiny tiny tight pimple on your hairless, sensitive chest. For reals.

sleep betrayal

My dreams have become increasingly transparent. It makes me sad. I miss the days when I dreamt (I also miss the days of irregular conjugation. Did you know it's now supposed to be "dreamed?" Yech.) I was an old woman being chased by Hitler and an army of Nazis and I'd try to stop him by throwing explosive pineapples out of my one-person helicopter and I kept writing vague yet powerfully symbolic metaphoric one-liners on post-it notes to the other old women in the Nazi party warning them of impending doom. Those days are gone. Perhaps I'll buy some cran-raspberry juice and drink it right before going to bed. That always gave me weird dreams in the past.

Last night's dream didn't take place in any fantastic world but it did carry a lot of emotion. I was in some American town in my father and his wife's home. My dad was incredibly unstable, bordering on psychotic. My dad's wife wanted me to talk to him. I went into the bathroom, where he had trapped himself in the glass shower. He was fully clothed and had lost a lot of weight. When he saw me he started angrily screaming and yelling. He reached up to a rack on the wall which held a multitude of knives, blades and other sharp objects and took down a large razor blade. The whole time I just stood there, I knew exactly what was going to happen but couldn't see any way to stop it. He paused his screaming, look directly at me, yelled "Sacrifice is art!" and started slashing at his arm trying to cut off his hand. (I would never say that out loud but apparently I'd think it.)

It was later explained that the whole reason he basically went crazy had to do with my unborn brother that I had absorbed or killed or mutilated in some way or something. And then things went from there.

See? No flying. No super powers. No hot celebrity sex (though I don't really ever have those dreams). Just a lot of semi-subconscious guilt-shit cropping up.

I should probably call my dad. I need a vacation. And some imagination.

the real me?

According the The Golden Compass movie's website my Dæmon is:



I took this test a bunch of times and tried to answer as honestly as possible. Really. I was practically stressing out trying to be truthful. And I didn't just retake it because I didn't like the first few Dæmons it gave me.

Anyway, you should click on the picture and take the test about me to see if you agree. Here's the thing though, your answers affect what everyone else sees. The qualities associated with me stay the same because that's what came up when I took the test, that way when someone else views this they'll still answer the questions based on the original test's qualities. But the Dæmon will keep changing based on your answers. So don't go answering things willy-nilly; I don't want to end up with a cockroach or something. And you should probably only do it once. I started running into problems when I kept answering questions for myself over and over again just to see what would happen.

So take the test. And after taking the test you should read the book. And after reading the book you should see the movie, with me.

what?

Every Thursday my job has a "manager's meeting," which I am supposed to attend. And I have been attending...every Thursday...at 11AM...for the past 6 months.

But not today.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I really have no idea what day of the week it is anymore. Nothing divides my days because my entire week is a hodgepodge of work and Pilates. Different days just mean a different schedule of the same routines. This morning I totally sat at my desk playing solitaire while the meeting was happening. At one point I stopped and thought, huh, L & L have been gone a long time, I wonder where they are? On my way to the kitchen to fill up my water bottle I even walked by the conference room where the meeting was being held. I saw everyone in there and still nothing clicked. I figured they were probably having a reporting meeting that didn't concern me. I doubt I would have ever realized my mistake if my boss hadn't mentioned something when I just went to ask her about an unrelated problem.

lose weight now, ask me how!

You will need:

1 low paying job
3 senses of impending dread (life, love, money)
1 commitment that forces you to go to the gym
1 obsessive need to exercise
a healthy dose of low self-esteem
and lots and lots of natural aversion to food

It's so easy!*

A while ago I was tabulating all my expenses over the past few months (because my job is dull and I'm not going to work to make it better), trying to figure out if I could move (it turns out I can't, but that's another post that will never be). I discovered that since January I've spent almost the exact same amount on food every month, like, within a few dollars. And I don't plan my meals or budget when it comes to food. I mean, I don't actively budget, I just let my impending sense of dread, related to money, dictate when and what I eat. And apparently it keeps me on the mark. I thought this was pretty impressive until tarak pointed out that it might only mean that I eat the exact same thing every month. And she was right. That certainly turned this exciting phenomenon into a bland happenstance. The end.

Better go get on the treadmill.

*ice cream, brownie batter or smores are not valid substitutes for or add ins to the above ingredients

I'll be there

I think I finally understand the madness of those Hairy Pauter fans. I can't wait for this movie to come out. I love this book and indeed the whole His Dark Materials trilogy. I'm not sure if the movie can compete with my imagination but I'm willing to give it a try. I'm still willing even after watching the trailer, which was lackluster. I don't care; I'll be lining up to see the first viewing. I mean, maybe. But not if the line is like, really long. But still, I am excited.

I was at B&N the other day and wanted to buy The Golden Compass because the only other book I had in my bag was this one (don't ask) and lord, that wasn't gettin' me through my subway ride. Unfortunately the store only had copies of the next two books...but they also had the trilogy conveniently bound in one book. What to do? I actually already own the 2nd and 3rd books so I didnt' really need a full volume but wouldn't it be handy to have them all together and if I bought it then I could just let my other copies stay in circulation in Book Club and I could keep this one all for my greedy self and I know I'd have to use my credit card because I don't have any money but that's what credit cards are for right or should I spend that money on some other books that I don't already own? What a dilemma. I didn't buy it. But I did, a few hours later, take an unnecessarily long train ride to go to a different book store where I was either going to buy The Golden Compass or, if they didn't have it, give myself permission to buy the full volume. They (unfortunately) did have the single book but now I'm almost done and I don't have the other two, they're loaned out! Now what will I do? Read something new? Never!

bringing...back

I know sometimes I seem cold...distant...self conscious...sad. But that's not always the case. (At first I typed "but's that not true." I quickly realized my semantic mistake.) Get me in the right setting and I'll set my inner fool free. Usually that setting is my solitary room, late night, window shades drawn, lights off, pipe out and thoroughly smoked. But this time it was a pool.

Hooray! Water! I feel so free! And reflective!


Oo! Eeep! Hah hah, it's tickling me! Good thing I'm wearing sunglasses.

But where would we be without just a little bitta sexy?

Oooh yeah, baby. This is so hot and not at all completely annoying. No, I love chlorinated water getting splattered into my eyes. Gets me goin'!

It seems like in a lot of anime I watch a recurring power (usually of the evil character) is the ability to absorb another person (also usually including, and most importantly, that person's soul). Then they either gain that other person's power or their hair turns colors or they just get generally stronger or something. The point is, I think I might be developing that ability.

It begins. She can't escape.


Does that make me evil? Who cares! As long as I get better skin and softer hair out of it, that's fine with me.

I also like that though Miss M is holding the beer, I'm the one who appears to be drunk. Or am I just sleepily sexy? I've been cultivating that look a lot lately, though often dropping the sexy.

pretty (something)

"This is one time, growing up on the farm..."

Welcome words to some, dreaded to others. But no longer need you rely on my lackluster storytelling abilities. No longer need you use your imagination, or at least not as much. Come with me on a tour of my childhood.

It's starts, appropriately and stereotypically enough, with a barn.

This barn belongs to my old neighbor. Dry, weathered, dusty. Everything you'd expect.

And then there's this thing.

This is a really really old beet digger that's been sitting there for as long as I remember. I think maybe my grandfather used it when my dad was a kid. I think it's pretty cool. Of course, I think all these pictures are pretty cool.

And now, my cherished childhood stomping ground: the mighty WATERFALL!

Can't you just feel the danger?! I swear it was bigger when I was 6. It really freaked me out. It seemed like a rushing river. Those are my sisters sittin' on the bridge. We used to go swimming in that canal, pesticides and all. It's probably about 3 1/2 feet deep. That's enough to drown in.

And a view from the other side.
See those tall trees in the distance on the right? Well, just to the left of those are some shorter trees, that's my old house. I used to weed that field. It was filled with mint when I lived there and my sister, my dad and I would weed it all by hand and there's a lot more you don't see. That was a bitch, but having mint waft through the open windows of your house on a summer evening was pretty delightful.

And speaking of work, can you set a syphon?
Ida can do it one handed. I never could.

And lastly, one more picture of the swimmin' canal.

Look at that blue sky. I miss it. New York is great for a lot of things but open space isn't one of them.

stuffin' stuff

Today I: went on a date (sort-of), saw Harry Potter (eh) and got my written final back from my Pilates instructor (good). First, the date. This guy contacted me on Friendster (which actually I just remembered that I have a link to this blog posted on my friendster account so I'll have to delete that because he might read it, I mean, if I saw a link to his blog I would totally read it. I don't think he has a blog though). Anyway, we only three short email exchanges and today we met. We met at Columbus Circle and then took a walk through Central Park. I got nervous (the meeting place was my idea) so I ran into Whole Foods and bought some bread, cheese, apples and two different juices. We ended up walking all the way to 90th before we sat down and ate. He didn't eat anything, just drank his juice. But we talked the whole time. About what you ask? What else, art. We seriously only talked about art the whole two hours we were together. It was actually pretty interesting and I realized that he definitely had a more interesting education than me. We have a lot of similar opinions on art and it was nice to talk to someone who didn't worry about immediately talking about art and only art, because that's often what I want to do when I meet people. Here's the question though, do I have to be immediately attracted to him? Because I wasn't. I think I'm still too superficial, how do I change that?

Second, Harry Potter. Laurenj was nice enough to invite me along with her and some friends. It was fun to hang out with them, even though we were all facing forward and coudn't really talk. Still, what a bonding moment. But the movie: I was unimpressed. I mean, I had fun-ish but I didn't think this was was nearly as good as the last one. And I certainly don't think this one is the darkest so far. This movie reminded me too much of the first two, too much sappy happiness with "beautiful" sweeping shots and flowing sentimental string music. Ugh. For me, this movie captured a lot of what I find annoying about the books, all the plot holes and confusing situations. Plus I just kept waiting for ol' Fiennes to show up. That lack of a nose only makes him sexier in my book. That just means his tongue could get deeper. Hot! But he was really only in the last few minutes. Really, there wasn't enough adult acting in this movie at all. Almost every adult in these series is a wonderful actor and yet they never get to do anything. Oh Maggie.

Third, my Pilates instructor said my written final was great. That felt nice. She encouraged me to take my practical test so that she could start scheduling clients with me or, more accurately, have the potential to schedule clients with me. I don't know if there are enough clients to actually schedule. We'll see where that goes.

that's what the sun does

A few weeks ago the head of my department invited her staff out to her house for a little get together. She apparently does this every year and yet so far no one's been able to go. Well, not this year. I asked around to see who could come and at first the turnout looked good. Five of us peons plus my immediate boss and her husband. By the time last Sunday rolled around though two people dropped out. So three of us jumped on the bus Sunday morning at 10AM (did I mention she lives in New Jersey?) prepared for we didn't know what. It turns out my boss boss has a lovely house, a pretty great yard and a very nice pool...that only I went swimming in. No one else even brought a bathing suit; but I wasn't to be deterred. I stayed in that pool for as long as possible. I had two Bloody Marys, two margaritas and 4 cigarettes, some while still in the pool. I haven't smoked for quite a while but it just seemed right to smoke while all cool sunglassed up while hanging on the side of the pool.

We were there for about 6 hours. A pleasant retreat from New York, I don't think I heard a car honk once. We were pretty tuckered out (or at least I was) on the bus ride home but none of worse for it. HL graciously let me use his shoulder.

Awwww.

Yesterday on our lunch break, HL and I made up a new game called Spitty Splashy. It's played with, duh, two people. Splashy needs a cup of cold water, Spitty is empty handed. The rules are as follows:

Splashy: dip your fingers in the water and flick it as your opponent
Spitty: quickly lick your fingers and slap your opponent's arm

The object of the game is to win. Actually, the real object is to annoy the hell out of each other. It's pretty fun. Guess which player I was.