Archive for category intangible
As much as my antisocial tendencies govern most of my actions, I thoroughly immersed in enjoying the company of my two littles cousins. I even started remembering a me that actually enjoyed going out and spending time with others regularly.
I look at these two grown lovely ladies and their free flowing banter and sharp wit, and with a certain expression or just how they would say something, they would transform to two toddlers fresh and crisp in their Easter Sunday best, spinning in the foyer to make their dresses fly up. Golden ringlets, chubby elbows and a laugh that can never, ever be duplicated by anyone past the age of four, completely full of nothing but sheer joy.
It makes me ache in a nostalgic way. It reminds me how little I see them, how much I missed, moving around and completely focusing on my own shit. It makes me wonder if their half-sister ever has these regrets as well, ever looks at them and feels a pang for the time gone forever.
I ponder the days when their half-sister and I were nothing more than gangly, awkward kids ourselves, then young adults completely convinced of our intellectual superiority and ready to take on the world, bent on making it our bitch or just making it better and being nothing like our parents or any other adult we met while doing it.
It reminds me of a time when the little cousins first met Spawn, fresh from the hospital. They rigged up a laundry basket as a makeshift crib and just cooed over them like the most awesome thing they’d ever seen.
Now Spawn stands between the two in height, and is still growing.
I finally get the need to want to watch films of the past over and over. It’s not that you wish you could go and relive it all, but maybe just visit. Get a little more connected. Slow down and give a few more hugs, listen a little more attentively, be more in the moment. It’s a shame you have to get to a certain age before you fully understand that and so much is already lost.
Somewhere near the end of the year, with the doom of Thanksgiving and Christmas looming, I got a wild streak to basically throw everything out and scrub it all down with bleach.
Sometimes, I wish I could do this with my brain.
The Yankee is steadily showing herself to be more of a Heather. The Hippy, who has stuck up for her for the longest time suddenly said one afternoon after work “Put some distance from her, for your own sake.” She didn’t elaborate and at the time, I didn’t feel I needed to ask. I kind of got the gist.
God, I’m too old for this shit.
The Yankee made a shit first impression from the get go. You don’t move to the South, shit on southern education (which you’ve never personally experienced) for which most of your co-workers are by-products of.
You don’t go off about how your Master’s degree should exempt you from doing shitty work, like my job. Especially not if you keep reminding me what you do when I catch your bullshit mistakes in the process of doing my own job. If you don’t want me to catch your mistakes, stop making them.
I also have to appreciate the irony of me, the southerner, having to explain to said Yankee that making remarks like “only some blacks actually fall under the N word” is indeed a racist statement. For someone whose boyfriend likes to reiterate they won “the war,” his girlfriend doesn’t seem to understand what that means.
Perhaps its because I cannot pour bleach on her to flush her away that I felt the need to purge my world. We’ve made several trips to Goodwill. Spawn still has some stuffed animals to cover. What idiot bought this kid this many toys?
I finally dismantled the bed and took it to my co-worker who lost so much when we had the storms and flooding.
It felt good. I even tossed the curtains that had been hanging since Spawn was a baby and bought new ones I really couldn’t afford but my sense of well being couldn’t afford me not to. I’m pretty sure I won’t be taking them with me if I move, but I feel better and more refreshed in my home now. Spawn was unusually supportive and worked with me as I went. Maybe I wasn’t the only one needing to purge.
Of course, when the bulk of it was done and there was almost an echo in the house, my instinct is seeking out anything else to eliminate, measuring out what I can break down to nothing as keep worthy, while Spawn’s response was to point how little clothing they had left that actually fit.
So apparently, my 8 weeks is up.
My diet buddy immediately wanted to schedule a celebratory outing at our favorite burger joint. I think diet buddy is trying to make this translate into places of temptation. I’ve already been doing this, but apparently they feared trying it. I wanted to ease back into the real world without going nuts in it.
Personally, I would have preferred a giant boat of fucking sashimi. I haven’t had sushi at all in this time and I miss it. Sashimi is a perfectly acceptable alternative. Sure a flash fried roll of some sort would be awesome, but I’m not there yet.
I mentioned that my eight weeks ended to Spawn when I got home and they just said “huh, well kind of too late to change now after all this effort.”
What a great answer.
I do plan on hitting a wing and ale place at some point, I don’t like potatoes but I like raw fries (floppy, thank you, with loads of malt vinegar) – don’t ask, and although I inhale my food when I eat, I’m eating less overall.
In all, it wasn’t as stellar as I thought it was going to be. There was no nipple scars from chest tape going across the finish line, no cheering, no passing out in the pavement and thanking everything to have to made it. I think my main thought was “huh, that got here faster than I thought it would.”
I’m still not where I want to be weight-wise, of course, this was a tiny amount of time. Yes, my pants are looser, my shirts fit better, the water weight in my legs is finally starting to fuck off and is mostly gone, I’m sleeping better, I’m moving better and with less (not none yet) pain. But I’ve a 6 year jagged track to reverse and I intend to do that in a lot less time.
So although yes, I won’t adamantly abstain from everything now, but this is where the cycling has to begin, My body freaks out when I don’t go by a routine. I was off to a good start because I was doing extreme things it couldn’t predict and plan for. I will have use that information in order to make sure my body stays in a constant state of WTF?! until I’m back to a state I want to be in: High one day, extreme low the next 3, week of normal, two weeks of low cal/carb, etc.
It’s all ok…. because I still have cheese ;p
So… me, the Yankee, the Hippy and one of our other employees went to an “advanced” class on Windows Excel. I say “advanced” since I’m not sure if they just have to mention the buzzwords of “pivot table” or “vlookup” to qualify, but that was about the quality of this course. Our suspicion of exactly how bad it was going to be started when we got a good look of the picture of our instructor.
I’m not sure why this is a thing, but they are now doing courses where the instructor is remote and you have to listen to them over a conference speaker. They can see everything you do on your screen and you spend a majority of your time on mute and only interrupt with questions. Call me old fashioned, but this doesn’t appeal to me at all.
Don’t get me wrong, I see the utilitarian aspects of it. I just think it blows.
Considering the instructor’s photo looked like it was pulled right from her Tinder profile, duckface and all, she looked like she blew too.
And swallowed. A lot. And cheaply.
We spent at least another half hour trying to find a linkedin profile for her, which we found, and it too looked like yet another choice Tinder alternate, except this one was about 50 pounds heavier than the one in our faces currently.
How much lack of self-awareness do you need to think slut photos are “professional?” Why wouldn’t a boss doing their due diligence kind of guide you off a whore-ish cliff in the workplace?
Unfortunately, after the usage of “irregardless” (not a word) and “cumbersun” (cumbersome) and every cliche used backwards, I can only guess from a lack of understanding them, there was no value to be had in the instruction either.
There was not one single question posed to her that she could answer. We stepped through formulas that no person on earth would ever find useful. Most of her knowledge seemed to be based in memorization, in spite of bragging to 30+ years (how old was that fucking picture?) of Excel experience .
Though she wanted to spend a great deal of time on how to make spreadsheets “pretty.” Fuck that noise. If I want to see a pretty spreadsheet, I’ll look here:
They requested we fill out an evaluation for the class when we were done for the day.
Bad move… no, I didn’t hold back. I kind of eviscerated her: her grammar, her Tinder pic, her lack of any real usable instruction or knowledge in the material. However, I did try to finalize it on a positive note and complemented the building, the snacks and the book…
In spite of everything, it was a nice day. The Yankee and I only got in one argument over the fact that Dunkin Donuts sucks epic shit and Krispy Kreme rules. Apparently, Northerners are all about DD for the coffee? …even though the doughnuts blow chodes. I would rather get coffee where the main element – the doughnuts – are actually good. I don’t usually go to doughnut shops for the coffee, but hey. We finally agreed to disagree on that point.
We tried a new wing and ale place for lunch and I had an epic spinach salad with honey bacon that kicked some ass, so all in all total win of a day. Oh yeah, and it wasn’t at fucking work!
I think I’ve already gone over how the VP in our department thinks I’m a fucking idiot, something even the Yankee picked up on even though my boss tries her best to play the diplomatic card as much as possible. My boss rocks as they are not the type to get into drama and will get pissed at the issue, not the person. They also have a tendency to try to see the best in others and want to explain bad behavior under a more rational light. Sometimes a bitch is just a bitch. Also, like I told my boss… I have to value the opinion to give a shit what it is.
The VP has more than once told me I scare her. I’m starting to wonder if she isn’t kidding.
The owners decided they wanted to see more training since our financial situation (i.e. people finally started paying their fucking bills and we got bitchier about getting them paid) started getting better. My stress level once this occurred plummeted. Up until that point, the VP wanted to send me to a class on communication skills, which in a meeting with one of the owners and the VP present, I pointed out “There’s only so many ways you can communicate ‘we can’t pay you because we’re not getting paid.'” The owner readily agreed, the VP stfu about it, but it was still on the to-do that we should have training of some sort.
Yankee and I both saw an advanced Excel class we thought might be interesting, so we requested that. VP is not so skilled in Excel, in fact usually asking for Yankee’s help and marveling at the skills, even when its a minor thing. VP and I don’t really interact much work-wise, so it became apparent she had no clue of my skill level when she suggested it would be too much for me, and I just said “I highly doubt it considering I’ve already taken the advanced certification courses. This would be little more than a refresher unless they’re getting into the actual VB coding or in-depth macros without the step-through recorder.”
I lost her somewhere in the first ten words, I could see it in her face. She backpedaled a bit, and it wasn’t long before she had signed up for the same course but before ours.
She came back afterwards and said she learned a couple small things but they didn’t go over anything she didn’t already know. Before I could stop myself I said “well that’s disappointing, I thought it was supposed to be an advanced class.”
The Yankee coughed to hide their snort, but we were rather concerned that we wouldn’t be getting much out of this. It looked like the only classes that were more of our cup of tea were a minimum of two days and about five times the cost. We were told point blank we were not allowed to be gone over one day.
Either way, we finagled it so our project cohort, the Hippy, is also scheduled for this same class (at the Yankee’s house, Hippy mentioned they had no clue how to even request training and they too used spreadsheets a lot, so I put a bug in the VP’s ear. Sometimes, she is useful).
So we get out from having to deal with the VP for at least one day. For that alone, I guess I don’t really mind if I don’t take a lot away from this class, though I’ve never walked away not learning at least something, even if its small. I’m also curious as to whether the VP just didn’t understand a lot of what was being said and filtered it out. Will be interesting to find out. At least the company will be worth it anyway.
Damn, forgot to publish this when I wrote it…. my bad.
I’m guessing this is the point where my body is going “What the holy fuck are you doing?!?! I just got this body to a good point to be self-sufficient for at least 7.47 fucking catastrophes. You will fucking eat now!”
In other words, I spent a lot of time being hungry. Hungry is new for me during this little journey through insanity. It started off me eating below 500 and having to remember to eat a bit more, to then forgiving fluxes between 500-800 since it was still the goal range. To now, where I’ve touched 1k once or twice and could have still gone for a steak… or three.
Ironically as I try to lean into protein to stabilize the hunger pang more, my carbs have been occasionally dropping in half. This looks really weird when your calories are higher than you want, but your carbs are almost nonexistent. It was easier to do than I ever believed possible. Really, I would have fought you like hell and said there was no way to have 18 carbs a day, but I did just that.
It’s also been a really interesting exploration in applying new ideas to old concepts. I found that half a sliced avocado with salsa and diced ham is friggin epic and kicks a hunger pangs ass.
I love grilled cheese and tomato soup. I found a soup that worked well carbwise, a huge gourmet chunk of aged sharp bacon cheddar and found a recipe for eggplant “dude food” style. I know only one way I can make eggplant… fried. I love it at Japanese restaurants but have no clue how to do it, and the idea of cooking it to mush makes me gag. This was perfect.
I’ve been finally feeling a wee bit lighter, but I won’t be taking any kind of measurements until the weekend and only then in inches in my midsection. I didn’t want to get hung up on numbers, but I know, aside from diabetes, abdominal fat will kill me.
My legs still ache, though not as much, and I’m still retaining a ton of fluid on my legs. I wonder sometimes how many pounds of liquid a diabetic body holds and why in hell it just seems to be a balloon about to pop. Gran always looked like their skin in places was stretched to its max, but it all felt like fluid, like you could pop a tap into it and it would just pour out.
On the other hand, I caught myself sitting with my foot tucked up under my leg more than once, a position I’ve been unable to sit in for at least 4 years.