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First month into the new year, and I’m already creating a new version of me. Last time I wrote, I was pissed and angry and well, disgruntled. My weekend getaway in Long Beach turned out to be just the antidote I needed. Hanging with Pamela is like wearing pajamas– it’s just so easy, so comfortable, so great. We hit the ground running the night I flew in. Hit the supermarket on the way from the airport to her home (gotta squeeze in those errands!), hung a bit with her hubby, and then we headed out to a nightclub. Yup, totally anti-me, but what the heck? She wanted me to meet her friends and well, they wanted to go to a gay dance club. Let’s just say, the experience was majorly traumatic. I saw all kinds of crazy bumpin’ and grindin’. This was like ten times worse than watching Jersey Shore. And people wear the skankiest stuff and bust out the trashiest moves! Seriously, do I need to see you doing doggie-style on the dance floor???

I don’t dance, so I just sat at the table observing all this in utter horror. Fortunately, in my old age, I’ve grown more tolerant of uncomfortable environments. Had I gone to a dance club a year or two back, I would have been stressed out about being the one lame person sitting at the table not participating. But now that I’m mid-30s, it doesn’t bother me that much. They can go do their thing, and I’ll just watch (while maintaining composure) and just count down the minutes until the misery is over. In the older version of me, I probably would have gotten upset at Pamela too for subjecting me to this, but you know what? She’s had a rough year, and heck, the girl loves to dance. She should get her 2-3 hours of fun.

Btw, a woman tried to talk to me– she complimented me on my blazer, but then I responded in the most idiotic manner: “Oh thanks, it’s my mom’s.” I know, totally moronic, and if I were interested in someone and she responded with that? Loser! Ah well, it’s no surprise that I’m a dork. Just laugh with me AT me. See, while everyone was partying it up, my phone went off with an alarm for my calendar event: saline nasal rinse. Yup, that’s how fucking cool I am.

The next day, we had breakfast at an awesome little French cafe. I had a waffle Folle– a waffle with fresh fruit + Nutella. I’m telling you, that chocolate hazelnut spread is like my version of crack. It goes on everything, and I crave that shit every damn day. Maybe that’s why the pounds aren’t shedding despite 90 minutes of hot yoga three times a week. Whatever.

So yeah, breakfast was delish. Then we walked in the sunshine (85 degrees!!), got pedicures, walked around some more. Finished the day off with three games of bowling. So much fun. Turns out, her hubster grew up bowling with his dad and grandfather– played on the league and everything. I always love it when people reconnect with their childhood hobbies.

The final day (yes, I was only there two days), we hit Rancho Palos Verdes along the coast. Did a good bit of hiking in my ballet flats, of all things. But god, it was beautiful. Mind you, Pamela and I talked the entire time. Yup, we can talk forever.

After the hike, we went for the hard stuff: Blue Valentine. The movie was well done, but to my surprise, I hardly cried. And I found myself sympathizing with the husband. Argh! I sided with him, and so did Pamela. After I got home, I read a ton more reviews, and all the critics kept saying how you could see BOTH sides, and some even sympathized more with the wife. Wth? I always want to side with the woman, and yet this time… I didn’t see it. Did I not pick up on the subtleties? Ugh. I will have to watch it again. Sometimes I’m so clueless.

Since my return home from Long Beach, things have been better. John is really trying to be pro-active. He’s taking a stress reduction/meditation class, and he practices every day. He registered for a gardening class. He’s been trying all kinds of new recipes (again, thwarting all my hot yoga work), and he’s taking care of other house-related items– repairs, yard work. It’s a pleasant and welcome change.

I am back into my activities. Lots of shopping going on– online and otherwise. The sales are pretty good right now as stores make room for spring items. The usual suspects: BR, Target, Loft.

Tomorrow I have my self-defense class. Mind you, it’s just a one-timer for two hours, but I’ve always wanted to see what that’s about. I think I’ll learn something. Tuesday I’m taking a photography class– again a onesie for two hours. I guess I’m very noncommittal, except with voice lessons. Those start up next month and run for 16 weeks. I got a lot riding on these lessons, that’s for sure! 🙂

My yoga membership expires later this week, and I think I’m going to really try for my dancer’s body dream. Yesterday, I must have watched 15 clips with Tracy Anderson. I want to believe. I feel like yoga bulked up my shoulders/arms again. Maybe I’m paranoid but I dunno: I see what I see. I’m fascinated by Tracy’s lean and cut (yet tiny) body. Her boot camp in NYC is 3 hrs/day for 2 weeks. Sure, it’s THREE hours/day, but 2 weeks is practically no time! Obviously, I’m not doing the boot camp, but I might try some of her exercises and then hope for the best. 🙂 Guess that means I’m not really THAT dedicated. Just happy to change things up.

Version 3.0 is coming soon– maybe in the next quarter of 2011. I know, I’m going to have to curb the Nutella habit. 🙁

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First month into the new year, and I’m already creating a new version of me. Last time I wrote, I was pissed and angry and well, disgruntled. My weekend getaway in Long Beach turned out to be just the antidote I needed. Hanging with Pamela is like wearing pajamas– it’s just so easy, so comfortable, so great. We hit the ground running the night I flew in. Hit the supermarket on the way from the airport to her home (gotta squeeze in those errands!), hung a bit with her hubby, and then we headed out to a nightclub. Yup, totally anti-me, but what the heck? She wanted me to meet her friends and well, they wanted to go to a gay dance club. Let’s just say, the experience was majorly traumatic. I saw all kinds of crazy bumpin’ and grindin’. This was like ten times worse than watching Jersey Shore. And people wear the skankiest stuff and bust out the trashiest moves! Seriously, do I need to see you doing doggie-style on the dance floor???

I don’t dance, so I just sat at the table observing all this in utter horror. Fortunately, in my old age, I’ve grown more tolerant of uncomfortable environments. Had I gone to a dance club a year or two back, I would have been stressed out about being the one lame person sitting at the table not participating. But now that I’m mid-30s, it doesn’t bother me that much. They can go do their thing, and I’ll just watch (while maintaining composure) and just count down the minutes until the misery is over. In the older version of me, I probably would have gotten upset at Pamela too for subjecting me to this, but you know what? She’s had a rough year, and heck, the girl loves to dance. She should get her 2-3 hours of fun.

Btw, a woman tried to talk to me– she complimented me on my blazer, but then I responded in the most idiotic manner: “Oh thanks, it’s my mom’s.” I know, totally moronic, and if I were interested in someone and she responded with that? Loser! Ah well, it’s no surprise that I’m a dork. Just laugh with me AT me. See, while everyone was partying it up, my phone went off with an alarm for my calendar event: saline nasal rinse. Yup, that’s how fucking cool I am.

The next day, we had breakfast at an awesome little French cafe. I had a waffle Folle– a waffle with fresh fruit + Nutella. I’m telling you, that chocolate hazelnut spread is like my version of crack. It goes on everything, and I crave that shit every damn day. Maybe that’s why the pounds aren’t shedding despite 90 minutes of hot yoga three times a week. Whatever.

So yeah, breakfast was delish. Then we walked in the sunshine (85 degrees!!), got pedicures, walked around some more. Finished the day off with three games of bowling. So much fun. Turns out, her hubster grew up bowling with his dad and grandfather– played on the league and everything. I always love it when people reconnect with their childhood hobbies.

The final day (yes, I was only there two days), we hit Rancho Palos Verdes along the coast. Did a good bit of hiking in my ballet flats, of all things. But god, it was beautiful. Mind you, Pamela and I talked the entire time. Yup, we can talk forever.

After the hike, we went for the hard stuff: Blue Valentine. The movie was well done, but to my surprise, I hardly cried. And I found myself sympathizing with the husband. Argh! I sided with him, and so did Pamela. After I got home, I read a ton more reviews, and all the critics kept saying how you could see BOTH sides, and some even sympathized more with the wife. Wth? I always want to side with the woman, and yet this time… I didn’t see it. Did I not pick up on the subtleties? Ugh. I will have to watch it again. Sometimes I’m so clueless.

Since my return home from Long Beach, things have been better. John is really trying to be pro-active. He’s taking a stress reduction/meditation class, and he practices every day. He registered for a gardening class. He’s been trying all kinds of new recipes (again, thwarting all my hot yoga work), and he’s taking care of other house-related items– repairs, yard work. It’s a pleasant and welcome change.

I am back into my activities. Lots of shopping going on– online and otherwise. The sales are pretty good right now as stores make room for spring items. The usual suspects: BR, Target, Loft.

Tomorrow I have my self-defense class. Mind you, it’s just a one-timer for two hours, but I’ve always wanted to see what that’s about. I think I’ll learn something. Tuesday I’m taking a photography class– again a onesie for two hours. I guess I’m very noncommittal, except with voice lessons. Those start up next month and run for 16 weeks. I got a lot riding on these lessons, that’s for sure! 🙂

My yoga membership expires later this week, and I think I’m going to really try for my dancer’s body dream. Yesterday, I must have watched 15 clips with Tracy Anderson. I want to believe. I feel like yoga bulked up my shoulders/arms again. Maybe I’m paranoid but I dunno: I see what I see. I’m fascinated by Tracy’s lean and cut (yet tiny) body. Her boot camp in NYC is 3 hrs/day for 2 weeks. Sure, it’s THREE hours/day, but 2 weeks is practically no time! Obviously, I’m not doing the boot camp, but I might try some of her exercises and then hope for the best. 🙂 Guess that means I’m not really THAT dedicated. Just happy to change things up.

Version 3.0 is coming soon– maybe in the next quarter of 2011. I know, I’m going to have to curb the Nutella habit. 🙁

I’m flying off to Long Beach tomorrow to visit with my Shanghai bestie Pamela, and holy shit, this is a much-needed vacation. Yes, you may recall that I had a “vacation” over the Christmas holiday; well, let me remind you: family time does NOT equal vacation. Enough said.

I’m stoked for my little trip. To be honest, things at home have kind of been a buzz kill… today was John’s first day out of work (he gave notice at the beginning of the year), and he stayed home while the window contractors replaced our original, untempered single pane casements with new energy-efficient sliders.

I wanted him to talk to the contractors about repairing shoddy stucco work done by a previous contractor. Could he ask them about it? Nope. He’d rather just live with a shoddy stucco job than inquire the cost to fix. Whatever.

So sure, he was captive to the home all day, but you know what? Except for one afternoon at the windows showroom, he didn’t have to do any of the vendor research, meetings, and scheduling. And just like that, voila! New windows in the bedrooms.

I went home for lunch today, ate the leftovers he reheated, and the sink was full of dirty dishes. I started cleaning up. There was a mostly used jar of minced garlic by the sink. I thought we could still get garlic out of it, but he considered the jar done, so fine. It sat by the sink for days. Today, I told him to recycle the jar, and then he started asking whether the jar really needed to be rinsed out. It takes 10 seconds to rinse the goddamn jar. Supposedly, he was just asking because it wastes water to rinse the jar, and if in the end, it doesn’t matter for recycling purposes anyway, why bother? Are you fucking kidding me? If he wants to learn more about the glass recycling process, go right ahead. He has a Mac Pro, an iPad, and an iPhone to research to his heart’s desire. But you know what? It’s 10 seconds to rinse the jar and put it in the recycle bin. Save me the lazy-ass bullshit about saving water. I know he doesn’t give a fuck about the environment.

This is what I have to deal with on a daily basis. Bullshit. So as much as I myself feel inspired to do more, every day I’m faced with bullshit like this. Stupid, simple little things that I have to debate every single time. It’s exhausting, and like I said: all the work of living alone without the benefits. Now it’s very late Friday night, and I’m still pissed. He went to bed hours ago.

Needless to say, it’ll be refreshing to hang with my kindred spirit. We’re going to shop, commiserate, watch Blue Valentine, get pedicures, go for walks by the Ocean… it’ll be a whirlwind two days and then I’ll be all rested and ready for more bullshit come Monday night.

I’m flying off to Long Beach tomorrow to visit with my Shanghai bestie Pamela, and holy shit, this is a much-needed vacation. Yes, you may recall that I had a “vacation” over the Christmas holiday; well, let me remind you: family time does NOT equal vacation. Enough said.

I’m stoked for my little trip. To be honest, things at home have kind of been a buzz kill… today was John’s first day out of work (he gave notice at the beginning of the year), and he stayed home while the window contractors replaced our original, untempered single pane casements with new energy-efficient sliders.

I wanted him to talk to the contractors about repairing shoddy stucco work done by a previous contractor. Could he ask them about it? Nope. He’d rather just live with a shoddy stucco job than inquire the cost to fix. Whatever.

So sure, he was captive to the home all day, but you know what? Except for one afternoon at the windows showroom, he didn’t have to do any of the vendor research, meetings, and scheduling. And just like that, voila! New windows in the bedrooms.

I went home for lunch today, ate the leftovers he reheated, and the sink was full of dirty dishes. I started cleaning up. There was a mostly used jar of minced garlic by the sink. I thought we could still get garlic out of it, but he considered the jar done, so fine. It sat by the sink for days. Today, I told him to recycle the jar, and then he started asking whether the jar really needed to be rinsed out. It takes 10 seconds to rinse the goddamn jar. Supposedly, he was just asking because it wastes water to rinse the jar, and if in the end, it doesn’t matter for recycling purposes anyway, why bother? Are you fucking kidding me? If he wants to learn more about the glass recycling process, go right ahead. He has a Mac Pro, an iPad, and an iPhone to research to his heart’s desire. But you know what? It’s 10 seconds to rinse the jar and put it in the recycle bin. Save me the lazy-ass bullshit about saving water. I know he doesn’t give a fuck about the environment.

This is what I have to deal with on a daily basis. Bullshit. So as much as I myself feel inspired to do more, every day I’m faced with bullshit like this. Stupid, simple little things that I have to debate every single time. It’s exhausting, and like I said: all the work of living alone without the benefits. Now it’s very late Friday night, and I’m still pissed. He went to bed hours ago.

Needless to say, it’ll be refreshing to hang with my kindred spirit. We’re going to shop, commiserate, watch Blue Valentine, get pedicures, go for walks by the Ocean… it’ll be a whirlwind two days and then I’ll be all rested and ready for more bullshit come Monday night.

I have decided to compile a list of items/products that have significantly improved my life. You’ll notice a common theme, but whatever, it IS fucking winter.

1. silk thermal base layers
2. heating blanket (oldie but goodie)
3. chullo hat (with ear flaps)
4. isotoner gloves (so warm without sacrificing dexterity)
5. leg warmers (just discovered these at the Japanese dollar store last week!)
6. alpaca scarf (so soft and warm, non-scratchy!)
7. Nutra Sonic facial brush (minimal breakout during Flo week)
8. new windows (just installed today). bedrooms are noticeably warmer

Ok, that’s all that comes to mind right now. I’ll add as more things come to mind.

Day 11 of the new year, and I am feeling energized and inspired like never before. Well ok, I guess I have felt like this before, but dayum, it’s been a fucking long ass time. I attribute part of this new breath to my resolution to let things go: control the things I can (myself) and worry/stress/internalize less about things that simply aren’t up to me. Yes, I’m sure I have made this vow before, but this time, I mean it– if only for my own freaking salvation.

I suppose it helps that I have several trips planned in the coming months, and well, the hobbies are kicking up again. I’ve decided that hobbies don’t get the credit they deserve: they’re not just frivolous activities to pass the time; oh no, they are essential to self-nourishment and overall well-being. I’m allowing myself to partake in hobbies (lots of them), because really, there’s no reason to delay: I have the time, I have the funds (especially since Groupon/Living Social make things so much more affordable), and I have the interest/curiosity. The time is now.

Overall, I’m also feeling more hopeful. Maybe it’s media messaging through shows like What Not to Wear, I Used to be Fat, Biggest Loser… call me a sucker, but those shows only reinforce what I’ve believed all along: humans are extremely resilient– they can survive all kinds of crazy mental, emotional, environmental, physical conditions. “Mind over body” really can bring about amazing, incredible positive change. Sure, some skeptics say these “reality” shows appear successful because all the conditions and resources are optimized so people can’t help but succeed… and the point is??? Rather than dismissing and downplaying accomplishments that are nothing short of incredible (no matter how short-lived after returning to the “real” world), these shows only demonstrate and affirm what is possible. To me, that is the magical bit. Think about it: some of those participants weigh over 500 lbs!! And in a matter of months, they transform their bodies, their spirits, their souls, their lives. How does that not amaze and inspire?

A few days after Christmas, I met up with my old college roommate. I used to refer to Yova as my Carrie Bradshaw/Sex in the City friend. She was professionally successful, socially popular, extremely independent. Oftentimes, I envied her life. But like everyone, she had her own set of challenges. She had bad luck with men, and she struggled with her weight. Maybe that was a consequence of her unlucky relationships or her “professional success.” Either way, it was a factor in that all-too-familiar vicious downward spiral. Long story short, when I saw her in December, she looked incredible. In the last year or so, she had started running, going to the gym, and holy smokes, she must have dropped 30-40 lbs!! And the impact on her esteem and overall mood was so palpable. The truth with all of this is: there are no tricks or gimmicks to changing your life. Life is a beotch, and everything requires hard work and effort. Seriously. Maybe some areas are easier for others, but everyone has something that needs improving or fixing… and sometimes the answer is simply: enough with the excuses. Shut up and go.

So now you’re probably asking, what happened to all that bullshit about becoming more empathetic and understanding in the new year? Well honestly, I’m a bit torn now. Especially after reading this article in the WSJ, I kinda feel some validation, like my personal philosophy/attitude is similar to the whole Chinese vs. American parenting dichotomy. Yeah, growing up with what I considered strict Chinese immigrant parents, I was stressed out a lot from the pressure of high expectations, but at the same time, I definitely learned the value of discipline and hard work in achieving goals. The author talks about a kind of tough love approach, with very little emotional coddling. And tonight’s episode of I Used to be Fat seemed to reinforce that method: The trainer was this ex-military dude, and he was fucking fierce! The girl must have cried in all her early workouts– whining and complaining– and the dude was just like, “I don’t want to hear it. Run down and back. If you want to keep crying, you can stay fat.” Sure, he was blunt and harsh and at times his choice of words were downright rude, but it was so refreshing to hear him– to hear this kind of straight-up, no nonsense, no bullshit language. I mean, here he is, changing lives… That woman lost 90 lbs. in 90 days. The results speak for themselves. Like the parents whose decisions override the desires of the children, he pushed her through all the excuses and resistance and self doubt until ultimately, she herself saw the results of her efforts, the direct payoff.

Sure, people will criticize and say it’s not an approach that works for everyone. But how do you know unless you push every person to that extreme? The woman even surprised herself! If life change were a drug, I think I could get hooked. Seriously.

And now that my original attitude has been validated by an outside source, we’ll end with the newest song on my ktv list: Ingrid Michaelson’s The Way I Am.

Good night.

As the year draws to a close, I realize once again that my blogging has slacked. My last post was at the start of this month, and now December is practically over. How disappointing. My excuse?

In case you’ve been living under a rock (not following my Google Buzz), my pup Remy fell very ill two weeks before our holiday trip back East– we’re still trying to figure out the cause, but she had vomiting and diarrhea for several days. When we took her to the vet, her bloodwork showed liver stats through the roof. The night I brought her home from the vet’s, I thought she was going to croak. Ugh. I was an absolute mess. Sure, she’s 12, and I’ve been mentally preparing for her passing for a very long time. But still, maybe I will just never ever be ready.

I don’t even know how she made it through the night with her full-body shakes, yellow eyes, and loopy look. I like to credit Linus, my heating blanket. Either way, by morning she looked so much better. It was freaking miraculous!

Then day after day, she got better and stronger, and although the following week things were still kind of touch and go, she willingly took the meds (thank goodness for cream cheese) and she kept her food down.

After she finished that first round of antibiotics, her bloodwork came back better, but stats were still high for the liver tests. The vet suggested a second round of meds while we were travelling, and then a third bloodtest. The dog sitter took good care of her, and today Remy is looking/behaving totally normal. I’ll schedule her third test this week. Maybe it was all just a fluke (and not liver cancer/disease as the vet was suspecting). Fingers crossed.

In other news, I guess we survived the Christmas visit to Maryland. Ugh. I still struggle with this self-imposed stress we call the holidays. Fucking A. Just kill me already. Consumerism, materialism, excess, etiquette, panic… I mean, seriously, is there really time amidst the chaos to reflect on our many blessings? I think not. I am convinced the holidays are the WORST possible time to genuinely feel thankful. I wish we could simplify the holidays, because I’m frickin’ exhausted, and surely I’m not the only one: the brainstorming, the shopping, the wrapping, the socializing, the traveling… every year is more absurd than the next. Please stop the cycle. I want out. NOW.

For my family, it’s a little easier since we don’t celebrate Christmas. But still, there’s always a lot to do with the family of busy bodies.

But in the end, I suppose the most positive take-away from our latest trip is that everyone is healthy: grandparents, parents, siblings, rugrats. Everyone is well, so for that, I am very thankful (especially now that I have returned to the peace and quiet of the houseboat).

Tomorrow is back to work, and new year’s resolutions are a-comin’ right around the corner!

When I get into a funk, I scramble to regain control. Typically, I look for ways to become reinspired or re-motivated. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this, but oftentimes, just watching shows like Biggest Loser and What Not to Wear does wonders getting me back in the saddle. The latter show, in particular, appears rather flippant and superficial, but as someone who used to hide away at home because of image issues, I totally understand their pain of not feeling attractive, not feeling pretty, of wanting to hide. And so no matter how often I have watched the show, nearly every episode brings me to tears just thinking about how real the outside-inside connection is. You see it with every episode: By making these physical/superficial changes to hair and clothing, the people transform their attitudes, their self-esteem, everything. Like I mentioned before, these actions give people an entirely new “lease on life.”

So my problem lately has been the slow creep/return of my esteem issues. I don’t feel engaged with people. I don’t feel appreciated or valued. When I have my bad days, I don’t even feel like I have someone to listen. Everyone else is engrossed in his/her own life. And so I focus on regaining control, and these days, my method involves retail therapy.

This is a relatively new thing for me actually. Though I had the makeover a couple years back, I’ve never considered myself a huge shopper simply because I’m too cheap. And TJMaxx and Marshalls can only go so far. But my latest companions are online vendors. I go through new arrivals regularly, order stuff, keep some shit, return other shit… but I’m starting to do this like everyday. Browsing around for stuff. Not always buying but definitely browsing. I’m trying to do my very own little WNTW so that I can transform my life from where it is now.

Today, I noticed the effects of retail therapy most distinctly. A new dress arrived in the mail, and I can truthfully admit that it gave me an extra spring in my step. I suppose in lieu of intimate, human connections, the fantasy of improving my life solo sounds pretty damn appealing. Yes, tomorrow I’ll be wearing my new dress to celebrate a new day.

I’d been saying for a long time that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. Mostly because of the food. And second because we usually don’t travel: we just have some friends over, gorge ourselves to beached whale status, and chill out the entire weekend.

This year was no different, except that my gynecological cycle landed me right in the middle of Thanksgiving. Fucking A. Yes, I’ve been dealing with this bullshit since I was 15 1/2, so you’d think I’d have this crap down to a science. Nope. Even with the help of meds, which keep me as regulated as they come, each encounter is still the biggest possible pain in the ass. It isn’t just the hormonal fluctuations and mood swings, it’s the aches, the cramps, the headaches, the goddamn cysts on my face, the fucking bloody mess. I get so damn sick and tired of it every single time! Ugh!!! I mean, not to get graphic, but seriously, I have ruined so many pairs of underwear and I’m just exasperated. Yes, I use products, but I don’t fucking know what is going on. My blood doesn’t flow with gravity or something, and well, like I said: a serious mess.

And then there’s the mood issue. The week before, I’m emotional as hell. The week during, I’m bloated and preoccupied with spills and stains and overall discomfort. The week after, I’m de-bloating. Essentially what all of that means is that I get one good week per month. Well, per quarter I suppose since technically, I’m flushing the system 4x/year. But even at 4x/year, this is intolerable. That’s it. No more. How bad could the ramifications of serially taking the pills one pack after the other be? Does it really matter if I fuck up my reproductive system? For my intents and purposes, the entire system is like a second appendix. No fucking purpose whatsoever. Free me of these extraneous appendages already!

I know, it sounds like I’m overreacting, but I’m telling you, I have lost my patience. Several times this month, I have found myself on the verge of flipping out. And I mean like blowing up and throwing a fucking fit! Somehow I manage to keep it together, but inside, I am ready to go ballistic. And I’ve never really had this level of rage before. Well ok, maybe with my brother. But that storyline ended back in 2003. Yup, estranged since then. Can you believe it? People always ask me about him, and they always give me this weird look when I explain that we haven’t been in touch in years. The look is so telling– like I’m being immature or shortsighted. Little do they know, if I were still in touch with him, I’d have already suffered multiple heart attacks by now. Seriously. The level of rage he triggered…

I’m so much calmer now that he is out of my life, but like I was saying, something recently has just been pushing me to the edge. It’s not the same magnitude as my what my brother used to trigger, but there’s definitely a frustration level and a feeling of exasperation and intolerance. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just listening to and dealing with all the negativity around me. Disgruntled coworkers, disgruntled Bubbey. I don’t know.

But the last few days, I’ve been feeling uber cranky and depressed. I suppose I’m in the process of de-bloating so I haven’t entered that “good” week yet. But still. I feel so grateful for my family and friends, and yet I feel sad, sometimes lonely, and dissatisfied. And I’m having serious insecurities. Earlier this month, I got that great haircut, but I can’t seem to style it. The hair just has never looked as good as that day I emerged from the stylist’s chair. Then, I’m frustrated with my wardrobe. Like I had that makeover maybe 2-3 years ago, and I’m still packing the same outfits on my travels. I’ve tried shopping to update things, but I just can’t seem to find anything really great out there, so I feel stagnant. And then my skin is still not as good as it was with the magic of Accutane, and I just feel unattractive. And on top of all that, all these issues are superficial, so I’m pissed that I’m such a vain beotch. Then I try to focus on the intellectual side of things, but when I think about my professional/intellectual development, all I see are shortcomings and inadequacies: who would even guess that I had spent THREE weeks in Spain last year. I have forgotten ALL of it. I might as well have not even gone. And the gripes just go on… I told you I was feeling negative lately.

About the only good thing I’ve been doing is hot yoga. I do feel my body is stronger and more flexible. But whoopdeedo. Shitty face, shitty clothes, blah hair, mediocre job. I dunno. I’m just in a funk.

And John’s in an even bigger funk. All his energy goes into work. Pretty much just getting to the office every day is a chore, so he has no energy to deal with anything at home, be it activities, travel plans, bills, whatever. It’s not even that I am particularly needy– I do lots of things on my own but sometimes it’s nice to be acknowledged for all my efforts. I try to be a good person. I try to be a responsive and helpful friend. I try to keep in touch with people. I try to pay attention. But sometimes I feel like I just give, give, give. And no one is really caring to give back.

Like earlier this month, I emailed three long lost friends. I told them I was thinking about them. One actually called me two days later, so that was good. But two took about 2-3 weeks to reply to my email. Both have smartphones. Seriously, what’s the excuse?

And then no one ever comes to visit. I mean, we’ve been in California now since 2006, and aside from my parents, maybe only 1 person has visited just to see us, not because they just so happened to be in the area for work, conference, job interview, etc. I don’t know, but if I don’t get “something” from my profession or from my relationships with people or from myself, what is supposed to sustain me?

Ugh. Time for a shower and then I’m going to bed. Tomorrow’s a new day.

Last weekend’s outing to Truckee was a test. This weekend, we tried again for a relaxing escape. This time, Joe and Jess invited us down to her parents’ ranch house near Monterey. A 90-minute trip out of town is so much more doable than a 5-6 hr. drive. We arrived in a flash.

The next morning, we headed out early for some whale-watching (hurray for Groupon!). The weather was sunny and gorgeous, but of course, that didn’t stop me from wearing SEVEN layers. Hey, the boat people warned us to dress warmly, so I pulled out all the stops. Knowing my propensity for motion-sickness, I prepped early with a dose of Dramamine. That shit did NOT help. An hour in, I started feeling ill. I managed to hold it together long enough to see some whale activity. Then, I got tired of standing. As soon as I sat on the dock, the pressure of my jeans pressed up against my belly, and then, I knew I was in trouble. Yup, it all came up. Twice. And some of it got on the side of the boat. Uh god, it was awful. I went inside and conked out the whole ride back. Of the four of us, John was the only one without a bit of nausea. He thinks it’s because he’s the only one who avoided Nutella for breakfast. Likely story. Anyway, we got back to town this morning, and well, like they say, “There’s no place like home.”

Next weekend, we’re going horseback riding, and I am super stoked. Been subjecting myself to hot yoga for weeks now, trying to build up those leg muscles. Gotta be fit enough for a 4-hr. long ride. 🙂