counting

1 resume sent. Mwa ha ha.

the end

I did it. I gave my notice at my desk job today. I've been working here nearly four years. It was my first job upon moving to New York and now I'll be leaving it. Talking to my boss was thankfully easy. I was nervous but not frightened. I think she realized exactly what was happening right when I called her and asked to meet with her later in the day. I did end up giving her an extra week of work and decided to not completely leave the company but leave myself open to working a day here and there. That might not happen but it's kind of nice to have it as an option.

When I told her I was leaving my boss surmised that I must have a lot lined up with Pilates. "Nope...but I'm hoping I will soon." Or else I won't be able to pay my rent. Or I might have to temp somewhere, which I've never done in my life but I know quite a few people who have/do and if they can do it so can I, right?

September 8, 2008.

can't stop

Have you visited Natalie Dee's website yet? It is awesome. I even put a link to it that says so. Really awesome. I love her humor. I was going to post a few examples but I would basically end up posting her entire site so you should just go to it yourself. Really. Awesome. Aren't you listening? Awesome!

GTCMS

I just discovered this on Hulu (even though I'm playing it through youtube, because Hulu has the hiccups). I of course clicked on it because of it's name but little did I know the wonder in store. Do I love it? Yes. Have I watched too many episodes and now have a slight headache? Yes. Will I watch a few more? Yes. Could it be considered a little offensive? Probably. (Don't worry, no work-inappropriate content, that I've discovered.) But each episode is only about 5 minutes so the hilarity and offensiveness fly by.

Here we go:



And I just found this, it's also a series:

escape from the MTA

Last night I headed out to a BBQ in Brooklyn thrown by Lauren and Zach J. It was great even though (or maybe particularly because) the only things I barbecued were marshmallows for s'mores.

I had a late start going out. At the last minute I had the brilliant idea of baking gingersnap cookies and insisted on using fresh ginger. Unfortunately all the recipes I found used dried ground ginger. I remembered making awesomely good fresh ginger gingersnaps once in Seattle and I was basically trying to relive that memory of baking ginger wafting through the house. I should have known better than to live in the past. The cookies turned out more like ginger cakes, no snap at all, and I threw them in the trash. Next time I'll spend a little more time looking for that fresh ginger recipe.

I ended up leaving my apartment, in the far north end of Manhattan, to travel way down to mid Brooklyn around 7:40PM. The trip took: 1 bus, 3 trains, 3 transfers and a few longs blocks of walking due to confusion (on my part) about what the hell was happening on the train lines this weekend. But strangely I didn't have to wait very long for any of the trains so the whole trip was relatively painless, I got a lot of reading done, and arrived at the J's around 9. Little did I know that the MTA had a sinister plan for my return trip. A plan to challenge my calm, carefree attitude.

The adventure began at 1AM when Tara and I left the party and caught the Q train back to Manhattan. I was planning on transferring to the A train at Times Square and braving the long stanky tunnel. But. After only a few short stops, while still in Brooklyn, we heard that two word phrase dreaded by all subway riders, "Last stop!" So we hiked through that stop's own long tunnel (though not nearly as stanky Times Square's) and luckily jumped on a N train moments before it left the station. Tara and I said a quick goodbye at 42nd street and I began walking up the stairs. But I changed my mind at the last minute. Why walk through that eerie tunnel when I can walk outside in the cool(ish) night air. And it seems like a shorter transfer over to the A when walking outside. So I headed to an out of the way entrance/exit near the Shuttle train. When I got closer I a small doubt formed which was confirmed when I saw that the turnstiles had been padlocked shut. What to do? Turn around and take a long (it seemed long at that time of the morning) walk to another exit, or go through the emergency exit? I mean, come on, people use the emergency exit all the time, I see them, so what would it hurt for me to use it this one time? Sure the alarm will go off but I'll be heading out into the night air in no time. So I pushed it open, ignored the piercing alarm, walked up a few stairs, turned the corner...and encountered a locked gate barring the stairs to the street. I stood shocked for a moment, quickly turned around and dashed back to the emergency exit reaching it just after it closed, locking me out (in). Uh oh. Now what? My mind emptied when I realized I had no idea what to do. But then I saw the help box near the exit and pressed the call button.

MTA employee: What's your emergency?
Me: Umm, I'm trapped at a subway entrance. I wasn't really thinking and walked through the emergency exit but the gate to the street is locked and now I can't go anywhere.
MTA employee: Where are you?
I described my location.MTA employee: Okay.

So I waited. And got a little nervous. What if they came to let me out and fined me? I don't have a lot in my bank right now and a fine is not in my budget. Planning my strategy, or lie I would use, I took my subway card out of my wallet, put it in my pocket and put my wallet in my bag. Then if they asked me for ID I could say I only brought my subway card and left my wallet at home to prevent myself from spending any money. Then they couldn't check the false name I'd be giving them.

(re: fooling aurthority with ridiculous stories. Many years ago I was driving a truck on the freeway filled with my belongings and couldn't see out the back. I was worried that I would either get pulled over for reckless driving or actually get in an accident. I convinced myself that the police officer would be lenient with me if s/he believed I had searing eye pain!, which was the cause of my bad driving/accident. To help convince myself of the validity of my story with no purpose I began pressing my hand against my left eye as if I really did have searing eye pain! I didn't get in an accident and wasn't pulled over. But my eye really did start to hurt.)

Anyway, that was my plan for the MTA employee. I also saw some construction workers a little ways away and considered calling out to them but didn't quite feel like explaining my situation to five joking, possibly grumpy guys at 2AM, so I stayed silent.

While waiting I went back to take another look at the gate to the streets and noticed there was an opening at the top of the gate about 2 feet wide spanning its width. I was pretty sure I would fit. So I smashed my bag into the top corner of the gate (I didn't want to risk it falling on the opposite side, aren't I smart?), put my foot on the bottom and hoisted myself to the top of the 7 foot bars. Then I began sliding my legs through. There wasn't much room so I couldn't really lower myself down but instead wedged my forearm in between the gate and the ceiling and kind of jumped/fell to the ground. Success! My hands were totally black, as was my bag, my triceps got scraped up and I later noticed that I had black all over the front of my shirt. But I was out! and before anyone found me. I walked over to the A train in my messy clothes being careful not to rub my eyes (because they itched, not because of searing eye pain!). I then patiently waited for the train, transferred at 168th for the bus (which happened to be the one that stops right outside my apartment, hooray) and walked in my door at 3AM. A quick scrub and tooth brushing later I was snuggled in bed, safe from the entrapments of the MTA, which really were partly (mostly?) my own fault.

The end.

I might have to add this to my list of feats of daring-do. I wish I had taken some pictures, but I didn't want to risk staying there any longer.

I'm happy.

I know. I never thought I would type that sentence either. But even more than that when Parfait asked me how I was yesterday I was brave enough to even say it out loud, "I'm happy." I've been debating whether or not to even type this post. It seems that happiness is usually the death of blogs, who wants to read about being happy? Apparently you do, since you're reading this. Or you don't, because you couldn't even get through the first three sentences.

It's kind of hard for me to admit being happy. I fear that the moment I say it I'll discover that I wasn't actually happy, just tricking myself into thinking so, and everything will come crashing down. Or that I'll ask myself why I'm happy and then become unhappy when I can't think of any specific reason to be happy. But now I think that's stupid. I don't have any reason to be happy, I just am and that's that.

But I can tell you what's aided me in not being unhappy.

This book:



Seriously. If I had a highlighter with me while reading I'd practically be highlighting the entire book. I was a little skeptical when I started it and it's only been like two weeks but really, it's powerful. Go buy it or ask to borrow it from me when I'm finished. But don't ask me to paraphrase, I've tried that and I suck at it.

And look at that. It's popular, by an New York Times best selling author, spiritual, part of Oprah's book club, all reasons why I would have avoided it or at least hid the fact that I was reading it. But now none of that matters.

New cupcake post.

but I would notice

I just received a reply to an email I sent out about a Pilates job posting. Unfortunately the studio owner couldn't open my resume attachment. This didn't particularly surprise me since I sent it as a PDF file and for some reason, a lot of people still don't know what those are. But here's where I got stupid. The first email I sent her was from my bodywork associated email address, which she replied to. The second email I sent her with the Word version of my resume was accidentally sent from my personal email address. Then after perusing my resume ('cause it's a totally a good idea to proofread after sending the file) I noticed that since I had updated an older version the email listed on it was a third address that doesn't even exist anymore. I really didn't need another reason to feel anxious about this.

But I can feel a little better with the knowledge that not all Pilates instructors have perfect language and/or organizational skills. This morning the owner of another studio I work at said 'irregardless.'

anxiety

I just got this email from the woman who owns the Pilates studio I work at on the UWS:

Hi ipj,
I would like to observe one of your Pilates sessions. Most/all of your clients would probably be amenable to a one-time viewing session, right?

Aaaah! I've already been kind of freaking out about Pilates and this doesn't help. I officially applied to another Pilates job yesterday (I had called and left a message 2 days ago then sent an email with my resume yesterday) and my self-confidence is pretty low. I been feeling a little inadequate lately in my teaching even though my clients seem to like our sessions. But then I sometimes end up thinking that they just don't know any better. Yesterday at the UWS studio I was talking to one of the other instructors and asked her about a few different exercises listed on a chart that's going to be put up in the Pilates room soon. I felt kind of silly asking about them since they're apparently part of the "classical" repertoire. When I first got the above email my immediate reaction was that this other instructor must have told the owner what I was asking because only an idiot with horrible training wouldn't know those exercises and that's why she wants to watch me because she wants to make sure her decision is correct before she fires me and THEN WHAT WILL I DO?!

Okay, I know that's really probably not what happened at all but I can't help thinking it. When I'm not the best I often assume that I must be the worst. I have a hard time with that in-between area where, really, almost everything happens.

The other problem is that I feel kind of guilty for not having observed more at that studio. As part of my apprenticeship I'm supposed to be observing the other instructors but I've only done like 3 hours in the 6 months I've been there. Wow. I never really thought about it before. That's pretty sad.

So:
overwhelming sense of guilt + lack of self-confidence = very frazzled ipj

I'm not a robot

And here's proof. I totally just cried at the end of the most recent episode of House...while at work. Luckily my coworkers never turned around from their computers.

serious thinking time

A coworker of mine forwarded me an article today by Bruce Bawer titled An Anatomy of Surrender. Here's a link to the article. I highly suggest you read it. The author discusses current disturbing acts of suppression concerning freedom of speech specifically related to writings or other works of art criticizing or even just discussing Islam in a "negative" light. I put quotations around negative because the use of that term depends on who you're talking to.

Following is an excerpt that really struck me.

Last year brought another cartoon crisis—this time over Swedish artist Lars Vilks’s drawings of Mohammed as a dog, which ambassadors from Muslim countries used as an excuse to demand speech limits in Sweden. CNN reporter Paula Newton suggested that perhaps “Vilks should have known better” because of the Jyllands-Posten incident—as if people who make art should naturally take their marching orders from people who make death threats.*

*bold font mine

Just yesterday Parfait and I were discussing how easily we've begun to give up our freedoms as a people. This article was thought provoking and I think that's exactly what we all need to be doing: thinking and questioning. We need to not be afraid to question what's happening around us, even if those questions may be upsetting to oneself or someone else. Does Islam support violence? If so, do we need to be "respectful" of that religion and therefore condone that violence? No. This is actually pretty hard for me to write about. I feel that there's a large part of my mind that's been conditioned to be accepting of another person's religious beliefs and I think that's how a lot of people think. But when that acceptance of a belief degrades into an acceptance of atrocious acts of violence we need to question what's supporting our passivity. Is it fear? Is it laziness? Or is it a feeling of helplessness? I can say for myself that it's definitely a combination of all three. I don't know what I can do, how I can do it or what the repercussions might be. Not just the repercussions for myself but for other people as well. Being raised in the Mormon religion has helped me realize the misunderstandings and prejudices that can result from lumping members of a faith together. Just became one Mormon believes something doesn't mean all Mormons believe it or that the Mormon faith even teaches it. The same applies to followers of any religion, including Muslims. But being extra careful to separate individuals from a group can also fail to acknowledge the principles or laws that a religion does in fact teach. Clearly, I don't know enough about Islam to be making many statements but I also know that the fear of not knowing enough and the fear of hurting the few individuals who might be an exception to the rule keeps me from making any statements.

After seeing an exhibit at El Museo del Barrio I told Parfait that I was envious of the artists' work we saw because they seemed like they actually believed in something and wanted to make a change. I told him I could never make art like that because I don't believe in anything. Upon further reflection I realized this was inaccurate. It's not that I don't care about anything (though when I'm depressed or really upset, as I was then, I literally do stop caring, and that's difficult) it's that I don't know what to do and I feel completely helpless and like I don't know anything so who am I too judge others? When there are so many unknown variables how can I make a strong statement, one that I truly believe in?

active voice

I just balanced my checkbook and am really really excited because I have so much money in my account! I haven't had this much money in a long long time. Maybe quitting my job won't totally freak me out financially. Things are going to be okay...

Except for that I just remembered I totally left out a big ol' payment. Oops, back to normality again. At least that high was fun while it lasted.

some things

I am a mess right now. I broke down crying last night for no clear reason (no single clear reason anyway) and I feel like I need to cry again. I'm just kind of freaking out about things and have become way too sensitive. I came into my desk job this morning to catch an education performance and happened to see my boss who said hello. But she said it in a way that made me think maybe she was mad at me. Then I spent most of the performance worrying that somebody at my job read this blog and told her I was thinking about quitting and she got mad for my not telling her myself. But then I tried calming down by reminding myself that I'm not doing anything bad or wrong by thinking about quitting. I've been thinking about quitting for nearly two years, it's just that now I'm a little more serious. Still though, I don't like feeling like I'm hiding something and though I'm not actually hiding anything my sense of guilt, even when it's imagined, can be pretty overwhelming. Hence the crying and anxiety.

Also, I told Parfait that we should move in together. We're going to talk about it.

Also, the weather is all faccacted (how am I supposed to spell that, I don't even care enough to figure it out) and that's probably not helping.

Whew. Right now I'm pretty much wasting time at my job even though I'm not even scheduled to be here. I need to go to the bank and should probably get some food before I have to go teach but really, I just need some safety right now. I'd like to go somewhere and knit but it's pretty rainy outside so that's probably not going to happen. After crying last night I sat up, grabbed some needles, frogged my work because I thought of a better way to go and started over. I was knitting almost frantically and might have worried Parfait. But it really did help calm me down. And the rows looked pretty good so no harm done.

A note on the new format: I was thinking about going over to Wordpress but after actually creating a new blog over there, transferring all my old posts and spending nearly an hour and a half trying to manipulate one of their themes to my liking I decided Blogger handled personal touches better. Wordpress might have some better themes but it's seems much harder to sneak in your own html code and I finally gave up. So I started playing with a new theme on Blogger instead. It's still a work in progress. I mean, there's not a whole lot I can do but at least I can do something.

I don't like libraries anyway

Except that I do. And I tried to keep them open. At first this game was fun but ultimately it left me downtrodden. It pretty much accurately reflects any actual ability I may have related to politics. I utterly failed. How did you do?

maybe probably

I'm all jittery today and I'm not sure what to do to calm down. Actually, that's totally a lie, I know exactly what I should be do. I should write some sort of Pilates resume because...I most likely probably almost positively am going to quick my day job. Yikes. It just feels like it's time. I've been here for nearly 3 years and while it has given me a lot of time to knit I'm really starting to feel the drain on my soul. Of course, last night when I told Parfait he started asking me if I had any sort of action plan for the future after I quit and duh, of course not, I was planning on using quitting to get my ass in action (but not get action for my ass, I've been down that road) and find more Pilates teaching opportunities. I also think the time might have come to lie but I haven't decided yet. I'm still not completely certified yet but seriously it's taking me forever and if I can just start teaching more I'll be certified in no time. So should I just say I'm certified to get a job then make it true after the fact? I don't know, I really don't like lying but I also don't like my current job. What to do, what to do? Thank goodness I have a stripey purple hat I'm working on to clear my mind. That, and this great video my sister sent me. Thanks sis. I've watched this so many times. These girls are great, not just because they're a little bonkers but because their choreography is awesome and they are committed. Enjoy.

fantasy or reality

The other day I decided to take a short walk up to Columbus Circle after work. It had been a long day and I needed some time to clear my brain. I walked a few avenues west to get away from the crowds and picked up a little Red Mango on the way, which is awesome bye the bye and I can't stop eating it, except for now, because I'm sick. Anyway, I was walking along basically in my own world thinking my self-involved thoughts when I saw this guy walking toward me and we made eye contact, significant eye contact. No, not all flirty, more like, "I think we might know each other." I had just a few seconds to decide if I should say something but I missed the opportunity as we passed each other. Then a little bit of crazy began:

Did I know that guy? Where would I have met him? Is he a friend of Parfait's? Is he a techie that I met when I still did stagehand stuff? Was it rude that I didn't say anything? Clearly I don't know him very well. I should have just said hello and kept walking. That's nice and non-committal. That way, if I do vaguely know him I'll seem like a nice guy and if I don't I'll still just seem like a nice guy. Damn, why didn't I say hello? Where would I know that guy? He doesn't look like anyone I would usually be hanging out with. Uh oh, is he on television? Am I starting to confuse my own reality with reality tv? Oooerrrm, maybe it's a good thing I didn't say hello. But no, I must know him. Aaagh! Who is he?!

It was only later on the subway that I realized who he was:


Kevin from season 4 of Project Runway. Turns out I am a little crazy, I do watch too much tv, I do need to get out more and I don't know him. And I can't say I'm sorry.

So most of you know I don't really like my apartment, mostly because of my crappy roommates. But also because I never get to bake, also mostly because of my crappy roommates. Seriously, I used to bake all the time. When I lived in Seattle I had pies and cookies comin' out like every week or so, even a special glass pie one time. But since I've lived in New York the only thing I can remember baking is a cake for that guy who shall not be named who I sort of dated, and he didn't even really like it. One more reason why he's a bastard. But now I'm basically living with Parfait and finally, after months of not having any, the gas in his apartment has been reconnected. I've already baked like 4 batches of cookies in the past two weeks. And last night I decided to make some blueberry muffins. Oh man, I love blueberry muffins. I used to make them all the time when I was a kid but I haven't made any since I was in college. I was so excited. They finished baking around 9PM and I pretty much ate them for dinner. And it was glorious. The tops were so crusty and fluffy. I want one right now. Parfait only ate one, he has some restraint, but not me! While unwrapping my third he suddenly shouted, Stop! I thought he was going to reprimand me for being such a piggy but no. I get to eat the top. What?! No. I turned around and gave him the look of death. We ended up sharing, ugh. The lesson, don't get between me and my baked goods.

grandpa was right

I'm cat sitting for a certain blogger this weekend while she and her hubby are off on vacaneymoon, which is really just vacation and not a honeymoon at all but I like saying vacaneymoon. I was pretty good about bringing supplies to their apartment but felt guilty about taking the only toothpaste out of my boyfriend's apartment. (Even though it's my special cavity fighting toothpaste that I order online. I've basically been living at his place for a couple of months so I probably shouldn't suddenly just steal the toothpaste we've been sharing.) But my lazy ass has been, well, too lazy to go out and buy more toothpaste just so I can use it while cat sitting. So I've decided to embrace my heritage and brush my teeth like my ancestors did, with good old fashioned Arm & Hammer baking soda. Awesome. I sprinkle some on my great Sonicare (at least I remembered that, I'm not going to go crazy nostalgic and start using my finger or anything) then take little breaks to sprinkle more on throughout the process. And you know what, my teeth feel fine, pretty much the same in fact. I do wish I had some mouthwash to finish up with but otherwise I can't really tell the difference. So will I be making a switch once I'm done cat sitting? I don't know. Maybe I'll try a homemade salt scrub for my teeth later. I mean, what's good for your skin is good for your teeth, right?

In other news, I slightly change my hairstyle the other day and shocked my coworkers enough that they demanded a picture. So I'll share it with you.



Yeah. My teeth are so clean and sexy my lips can hardly touch them. I've since gone back to the old flat hair bed head look because I feel like it better hides the fact that I really need a hair cut.

it really really is

Have you been thinking along these lines lately?

-I see too much interesting art. I need a balance of crap.
-If I had a child, what would I ban him/her from watching?
-I'm too smart. How can I destroy some brain cells?

Do I have the video for you! Watch it and cry as your faith in humanity slips away. I present the aptly named Stupid Shit, and believe me, it is.


Did you watch it? Wasn't that amazing?! Did you start thinking that it couldn't get any worse...and then they stripped?! And one girl put on headphones for some reason? Now that's some stupid shit. I seriously can't stop watching this it pains me so, and I'm a sucker for pain.

Here's proof that gay couples (male ones anyway) can be just as trite and bland as any straight one. I couldn't even finish this article, I was so annoyed after reading just the first page. I know it's completely not fair of me to judge the entire article when I haven't finished it but seriously, I just can't do it. I can't even be bothered to write this post very well. Related and unrelated, I'm sick of this ridiculous and sexist divide between homosexual men and women. I'm sick of gay men who in their attitudes are basically elitist misogynistic straight men. I always thought that gays would be sensitive to prejudices because they've been subjected to others' but no, that's not always the case. Clearly, this is stemming from many other things since this little rant isn't directly related to the article above but I've just been thinking about it a lot. Really I should write out something a little more thoughtful and clear but right now, this is what I have.