physiolowhat?

As I'm waiting for Barack Obama's speech I'm sitting in front of my computer letting out little stinkers because, you know what, cigarettes give me gas. Yes, I bought a pack of cigarettes the other day, I was depressed and mad, and I smoked one this morning and totally forgot that for some reason they give me gas. Why would that be? They only seem to give me gas when I smoke on an empty stomach too. I find that odd. And I feel pretty gross when I smoke them but I've just accepted the fact that I have them and have smoked some and I'm not going to beat myself up about it, I'm just not going to buy any more.

I'm sorry I still haven't posted anything about Winter France Trip 08/09. I have the pictures ready, I've just been too lazy to type something up about it. Here's a preview, it was taken from my mom's bedroom window.



It was great.

answer

Here's a more explicit clue.

Ta da! Yes that's the same yarn.  Such is the terribleness of cell phone pictures.

challenge

All right miss Tara, since you're so smart, can you tell what I'm making?

I'll give you a hint: I'm frickin' cold!

new blog

Hey everybody, my mom has a second blog.  Yes, it's still about Frenchy French stuff.  Give it a look-see.

http://yourfrenchlife.synthasite.com

guess what

I have a new old haircut.  Or an old new haircut.  Whatever.

This was a hard decision.  I didn't really have the money for a good haircut and what's the point of a bad haircut.  I mean, my hair already looked crappy.  Did I need it to look crappy and short? So out came the clippers.  I'm hoping that by the time my hair grows back I'll be able to afford a professional.  We'll see.  I was a little hesitant since I'll be seeing my mom soon for Thanksgiving and she always likes it when I actually have hair.  She thinks I look fine with a shaved head but of course likes hair more.  I wouldn't usually think that's such a big deal except for that since my mom now lives in France I haven't seen her for nearly a year and it'd be nice to be able to do little things to make her happy.  Oh well, I'd better knit her a hat or something to make up for it.  Get it? No hair=new hat.

Just this morning my last remaining client at the Pilates studio in Brooklyn told me today was going to be our last session, at least until his wife gets a new job or he gets a better one.  I was bummed because I've been working with him for about a year and half and he's great. I'm not totally freaking out about money right now but I might be soon.  But then I'll just be in the same boat as half the nation so nothing special there.

So here's the explanation of my last post.  I got the new antibiotics from the pharmacy and haven't had any negative reactions, at least none that I'm aware of.  But last Friday I decided to go to the dentist just to make sure that nothing was wrong with my teeth.  Lauren A. recommended the Ryan Center, which I must say was pretty great (thanks Lauren).  When I first walked in the front desk was a little snooty but I think they were just super busy.  The Ryan Center has a sliding scale fee which was great for me since I don't have a steady income.  The dentist took some x-rays of my jaw and told me that yep, I'll need to have a root canal done on my upper back molar and maybe even on the one next to it.  But his more immediate concern was the infected abscess in my mouth. I was aware of some swelling but I just figured my jaw was swollen from the sinus infection. He referred me to the emergency room at St. Luke's hospital which was about 20 blocks away.  I walked on up and was quickly sent to the dental department since they were closing soon. The surgeon numbed me up first then punctured and drained of the abscess of "quite a bit of puss." Awesome.  Let me tell you, the draining didn't hurt so much but getting that needle stuck in that swelling to numb it hurt like hell.  It was stuck in there for a good 10 seconds (I counted), twice! It really really hurt.

Anyway, the oral surgeon agreed that I would need a root canal or a tooth extraction.  He set up another appointment for me that's a week away in case I wanted to get it done there.  I think he could only extract my tooth and not do the root canal, it was a little unclear and I was a bit woozy. But he said I was welcome to cancel the appointment if I decided to go to Columbia, which is where the dentist at the Ryan Center referred me.

That was my day Friday.  And the best part: everyone was so nice!  Seriously.  The cashier desk at the Ryan Center was nice, the receptionist for the dentist was nice, the dental assistant and dentist were nice, the guy doing my intake at the emergency room guessed my last name was Danish and talked to me about how beautiful Denmark is, the woman filling out my info and income at the hospital chatted with me about the economy and our new president, the woman who took my x-rays at the hospital joked with me about my earrings because I couldn't take them out and they showed up on the x-ray and the oral surgeon was understanding about my wincing when plunging in that needle.  I was really amazed.  I could have had a supremely horrible experience but I didn't.  And I really believe it's because how great everyone was.  I think there might be a lesson here.

And does anyone know why the formatting of my posts is all wonky? See how the paragraphs of this post are all like single spaced but the ones in the post two down are like 1.5 or even double spaced?  What's up with that? Is it because I'm creating this one on my Mac with Safari Inconsistent formatting drives me nuts.

update

I have two words:

oral abscess

Two phrases:

root canal

tooth extraction

And one sentence:

What the f**k?

Details to come.

ongoing

If you were at my apartment last Sunday and thought I was acting a little strange there was a reason for it.  I had a bunch of ibuprofen and decongestants floating around in my body in an effort to counteract the intense pain all along the right side of my face.  And it probably seemed odd that I kept disappearing for minutes at a time.  Well, I was going into the bedroom and doing headstands, that helped the pain too.  I finally went to a doctor yesterday and she thought I probably have a sinus infection, or that something is terrible wrong with my teeth.  I can't believe how long I've been sick and then right when I think I'm better my face starts to feel like someone's crushing it from the inside.  I've been using my neti pot like 3 times a day which at first helped but now I don't notice a difference. Anyway, I got a prescription for antibiotics which I started taking last night but about two hours after taking the first one my face started to itch, then turn red.  Then the rest of my body also turned red and itched like hell.  Needless to say I didn't take the next dose this morning. I called the doctor's office and am now waiting for them to get back to me.  Either they'll call in a different prescription or I'll have to go back in and see someone again.  And all this pain has kept me from eating the delicious cake in the fridge!  Is life not unfair?!

super sneak

A little while ago my sister texted me Meet the Bear in Istanbul.  I didn't immediately know what that meant so didn't pay attention.  Later, while washing dishes, it ran through my head again and for a moment and I thought, Wait, what if Ida has really been a spy all these years and she's been attacked and sent me this special code that one of her allies will come asking for later but then they'll have to kill me so that the enemy doesn't get it.  She's sentenced me to death! How could she do this to me?! So I quickly sat down at my computer to blog about it.  Now you know too.  If I die in a "car crash" or "elevator mishap" it was no accident!  Avenge me!  Meet the Bear in Istanbul!

Okay, I know I was being crazy for a moment.  I thought that I would google the phrase and it would turn out to be some children's book or something but so far the only results I'm getting are for gay bath houses (particularly serving "bears") in Istanbul.  My first thought was true!  Avenge me!

I got her back though.  I responded Put a snap on the grouch bag! Let's see how long she lasts knowing that one.  Hah.

fame

There's a movie being shown on TV right now called The Little Vampire. (I first thought it was The Littlest Vampire, which really would be even worse.) No, I'm not actually watching it and no, I did not immediately know the title, I had to look it up.  The only reason I paused while flipping channels was because this character popped up.

It's Alice Krige; I had to look that up too. Why did I recognize her? And why did I have a good feeling about her? She's done something that in the past that I liked. What was it? Was it a recent appearance on Dirty, Sexy, Money? I guess I might have seen that. From her role on Deadwood? Hmm, I wasn't really into that show, everyone's smile was much too sparkling white to be living in the old West. Ahh, Children of Dune as Lady Jessica Atreides. That's more my style, that's probably

No, wait!  Aha, jackpot!

The Borg Queen in Star Trek: First Contact. Totally. She was awesome. And also: hot. I'd be pretty tempted to let her assimilate me.

Update: The Little Vampire is not making any sense, or it's just stupid, take your pick. I can't believe so many people worked on this movie. Also, the ending credits are to the song Iko Iko. Alice Krige, I promise to always remember you as a powerful Medusa-like cyborg and not as an aging aristocratic vampire.

Update 2: I'm still sick, which is why I'm watching terrible television.

dancy pants

Well, I'm sick again. I know, who's surprised? Blah.

But in other news: I just sent off an email to a New York ballet teacher asking if she offers private lessons. Many of you may be confused by this considering my turbulent past with ballet. Well, I was starting to think that maybe I hated ballet so much (not only because it's so stultifying) because I really never understood it very well. I was always just struggling through class, trying to keep up with these combinations that didn't make any sense. I feel like I only started to really get into my body when I started taking private Alexander Technique and private Pilates lessons so why do I keep thinking about group dance classes? Privates are the way to go! And maybe I'll actually learn that I hated ballet all those years for a pretty good reason, who knows? This might not even be a possibility. She may not offer private lessons or she may be prohibitively expensive. I mean, I don't have much of a job right now so what am I doing? But whatever.

Part of the reason I even sent that email is because I saw a dance performance last night at BAM with music by Steve Reich and choreography by Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker. I thought it was great. First of all, how awesome is Steve Reich? He totally confuses and excites me. There was one piece that was played by two people on two xylophones (I'm pretty sure they were xylophones, too small to be marimbas but bigger [and wooden] that what you might be imagining) and I could barely connect the music I was hearing to movement of the musicians' mallets. It was like they were silently striking the instruments and it just so happened that this cascade of music was happening at the same time. I love how at the beginning of a Reich piece I always feel confident. "Okay, I can hear the notes that I see him hitting, I'm following along pretty well." But then suddenly someone else joins in and I get totally lost. It's pretty fun. I was also in the mezzanine so that could have been affecting my vision but you know, the principle still remains.

Anyway, back to that email. Not only did I think the music was awesome, I also (gasp) thought the dancing was pretty good too. It looked fun (and hard), and I thought, you know, I miss dancing but I can't just go back to class, all that ever did was frustrate me. Hence: private lessons. I'll let you know if there's any progress. We'll see.

yesterday?

Did you watch the debate last night? Will you explain something to me because I really don't get it. When did nuclear energy become 'clean?' Have I just been totally in the dark and missed that someone actually found a way to reduce nuclear waste and then convert it into something that doesn't harm everything it touches? If so, that's awesome! Somehow though, I don't think that's happened. So when did it become 'clean?' When we finally acknowledged that we need to cut our dependence on oil and that nuclear energy won't harm the atmosphere? Does that actually make it clean? Are we now calling it clean out of desperation, ignoring how harmful it is to other aspects of the environment? Please fill me in.

(And as a side note, just because you might have been on a ship that had a nuclear reactor and nothing dangerous happened [like it exploding or something] does not mean that it was safe. I regularly drive home drunk and have not had one accident. So following that logic, driving drunk is safe.* Okay, I acknowledge that's a stupid analogy, but you get my point.)

*I do not drive while drunk. And if I ever did I sure wouldn't try to convince anyone that it was 'safe.' I just take the subway drunk, now that's safe, particularly when it's powered with its own nuclear reactor.

indecision

Remember that 1 resume I sent a while ago?  Well, I had an interview for that job (which went okay) and the Pilates coordinator said she would email me with her decision right after Labor Day.  This gym/studio was looking for a few different teachers and a friend of mine applied there too.  Well, my friend received a job offer by email the Wednesday after Labor Day and I waited, and waited, and waited and by the next Monday I still hadn't heard from the coordinator so I figured that was my answer.  Oh well, right?  I figured that that just meant that that wasn't the place for me and I moved on.  Except for last Friday night I received an email from the coordinator offering me a position if I was still interested.  Ah, what to do?!  I had already convinced myself that that wasn't the place for me but now there's the opportunity for me to work there.  Fuck.  I was supposed to go out to Fire Island this weekend and wouldn't have had internet access so I didn't respond right away, pretending (in my head) that I hadn't read the email and would get to it Monday evening (when I would have come back from the island, if I had gone).  I've been going back and forth over this and I finally just sent an email saying I've decided to pursue other teaching options.  At least I made a choice and now I'm done but it was still hard.  Was it the right decision?  I don't know.  How do you ever know if your decision is the best?  I'm not going to go into the pros and cons of my decision; I'm glad it's been made. Now I'll just have to accept the fact that that I can't change it even if I wanted to and move on from there.

wet t-shirt contest

I win!

I couldn't decide which picture was more ridiculous.  This is the result of running (not even jogging, running!) 3 avenues and 3 blocks in the rain to my subway stop yesterday.  I took off my shirt, wrung it out and got it back on right as the train pulled in.  I entertained the notion of doing the same to my pants but the thought of Isaac sneaking up on me with a disapproving shake of the head killed that idea.

When I went to Six Flags the other day I also wore a similar white shirt.  Isaac joked that I purposefully wore it with future thoughts of the log flume ride.  I believe this is the look he thinks I had in mind.  Look at those sexy nips!

heaving breaths

And nothing laurnj. Well, sort of nothing. I did go in for an interview for that job and taught a lesson to the woman running the Pilates program. She said she would let everyone know her decision after Labor Day. And I haven't heard from her yet. And it's totally after Labor Day. A friend of mine also applied for that job, which potentially could be great as they were looking for more than one hire and if we both worked there we could hang out.

This is my last week at my desk job! I only have three days left. Then my schedule will look something like this:


That's my entire schedule for all of next week. I mean, on one hand, Hooray! Look at all that free time! On the other hand, Yikes! I don't always do so well with lots of free time. And I won't be making any money. Hooray! I'm sure things will work out one way or another but looking ahead can be a bit scary. So I'm just going to stop doing it. Problem solved.

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.