Although we're at the end of January, there's still an entire 11 months ahead of us in 2010. There are some things in the works right now that I'm hopeful about--nothing actually has anything to do with me directly, but that's ok. I'm going to be cryptic about it all anyhow on my blog because I can.
One of my goals for the year is to get back on the bike (when it gets warmer, because I'm a fucking wimp and already spend enough time in too-thin tights at the barn) and to be able to climb up all the hills around my apartment. I'm going to be moving out of my lovely little smoke-smelling wonky-window-blinded one bedroom in the spring, but before I do, it'll be warm and I'll have the chance to tackle the nearby roads and hills.
Part of this comes after years and years of encouraging/berating words from Dan. Dan got into cycling and moved over here to this part of Fort Worth, and he would sometimes take me out biking with him. This is before I had a bike, so he'd go on his road bike and I'd follow on his mountain bike, a huge heavy thing that was too big for me. He'd go through these really hilly neighborhoods, and I couldn't pedal up the hills, and I'd start to panic and the slight asthma would kick in and I'd panic some more. I never really made it up the hills. I walked up them. There was one time I threw his bike into someone's front yard and kicked it out of frustration. Dan wasn't a fan of that, but he still tried to talk me up everything.
Once I had my bike, things got better, and I became a semi-OK climber because I can break out brute strength for brief periods of time. However, I have zero stamina for stuff, so long hills still generally eluded me.
Then I got out of the bike routine, and everything went to hell. Last big hill, in the fall? Walked up it. Now I'm doing this spin class twice a week, though, hoping to at least sort of get into the groove of pedaling and pushing big climbing gears. We'll see how it works out.
The reason I bring this all up is this is one of the things in the works. Dan applied to do Leadville this year, a 100-mile bike race at extremely high altitude in Colorado. It's a lottery system, so he's hoping he'll get chosen, and he'll find out in two weeks. If he gets it, I'll go with him, mini vacation, see Colorado. He wants me to bring my bike with me so we can go riding in Colorado, and I keep wondering if he remembers how poorly I climb in Fort Worth, much less in a mountainous state. However, he's perpetually optimistic and keeps assuring me I can do some of the shorter routes, 20- and 30-mile ones. We'll see.
I have to admit, I'm grateful to have a boyfriend who encourages me even at things I'm really generally awful at. I'm also glad I still have several more months to try to make myself not so generally awful.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Mental Inventory
Remember back when we were in middle school, before everyone had programmable phones and you had to remember phone numbers or write them down? I used to know about a dozen phone numbers by heart--home phone, naturally (in case of stranger danger), work phones for parents, friends, maybe the barn.
Today, I know about a half-dozen phone numbers. I know Dan's. I know how to call work. And I can call about four PR people for various hospitals. But that's it. I don't know my parents' numbers, even though their cell numbers have been the same for about eight years. I have no idea what my sister's number is. I couldn't call a single friend.
Tonight I went to this lecture at an engineering school, and it was one of the most tech-y tech lectures I've sat through in a long time. Usually I can muddle my way through, remembering vague bits of physics and math, recalling statistical things from some college biology research classes. I'm much better at the biological- or medicine-based lectures, but this one was supposed to be about the semiconductor revolution, 1947 to present day, so I thought I could handle it. Frankly, I'll be lucky to pull together a short story. It was all numbers and theories and abstract stuff.
As I think I've written about before, and as I'm sure some have heard me complain, I am amazed at the stuff I've learned and forgotten. I used to know calculus. In fact, I was a year ahead all through high school when it came to advanced math. I didn't even have to take math my senior year because I'd already taken calculus. (Keep in mind I went to dinky high schools where only like 20 students took calculus every year and Cal II would never be offered.) But today? I've forgotten all of it. I've forgotten all the algebra II I took my freshman year, too, and pretty much everything about every chemistry class I ever took.
I'm better with the big-concept stuff, like history or literature. There's more room for bullshit there, and you can talk about theories and consequences without getting bogged down in details like dates or which king was actually leading England at that time, if you throw in enough superfluous information.
So tonight I was driving home, again baffled at things I've forgotten, when I decided to try to think of everything that is taking up the room in my brain where calculus and chemistry and physics and whatnot used to be.
--I know a lot more song lyrics than I used to, and I still remember the lyrics to all those soft-rock songs and musical numbers that my mom listened to when I was a kid. So I figure that's a good portion, right there, because there's a lot of songs out there and I love singing along to them, preferably loudly and slightly off-key. Fist pumping is optional.
--Books. I'm more well-read than I was in high school and even in college, when the reading was required. I told one of my grad school professors that I spent more time reading narrative nonfiction books than doing work for her narrative nonfiction class, and looking back, it wasn't a mistake to do all the reading but it was a mistake to tell her that.
--Sports stuff. I didn't have to remember Jacoby Ellsbury's birthday before he joined the Red Sox and became unbearably awesome. I also didn't have to know anything about cyclists, bicycle engineering and mechanics or European races prior to meeting Dan.
--Dan's family history. There's four kids, and he's the youngest, and he's got a sister-in-law and two nieces and there are tons of aunts and uncles and it's an ongoing headache.
--Celebrity gossip. One of the blogs I follow distills everything into a handy twice-a-day bullet-pointed listing, which I read when I'm waiting on my e-mail at work to load.
--Health care. When I was in high school, I had this little pocket-sized notebook I'd fill with descriptions of bizarre diseases (like Prader-Willi syndrome) and concepts (a fetus is a lot like a tumor) because I was a weird kid and kinda pretentious. I never shared or showed this notebook to anyone, but I liked thinking I could diagnose someone's problem and save them the trip to the ER or something, probably. Today, I know about even more useless stuff (the hemicorporectomy) and also a lot of useful things, like health disparities and preventive medicine and the names of PR people and their phone numbers at their office, since I don't know how to program their numbers into my work phone.
--Beer. I still know jack shit about liquor and wine, but I'm slowly learning more about beer. And granted, I don't know a lot, but it's more than I used to and I know what I like and that's the most important thing, right?
--How many miles past an oil change I can go in my car. Because my old car would spontaneously die even if I'd just gotten an oil change.
(And in case you were wondering, I know I can get at least 5,000 past the recommended mileage.)
Today, I know about a half-dozen phone numbers. I know Dan's. I know how to call work. And I can call about four PR people for various hospitals. But that's it. I don't know my parents' numbers, even though their cell numbers have been the same for about eight years. I have no idea what my sister's number is. I couldn't call a single friend.
Tonight I went to this lecture at an engineering school, and it was one of the most tech-y tech lectures I've sat through in a long time. Usually I can muddle my way through, remembering vague bits of physics and math, recalling statistical things from some college biology research classes. I'm much better at the biological- or medicine-based lectures, but this one was supposed to be about the semiconductor revolution, 1947 to present day, so I thought I could handle it. Frankly, I'll be lucky to pull together a short story. It was all numbers and theories and abstract stuff.
As I think I've written about before, and as I'm sure some have heard me complain, I am amazed at the stuff I've learned and forgotten. I used to know calculus. In fact, I was a year ahead all through high school when it came to advanced math. I didn't even have to take math my senior year because I'd already taken calculus. (Keep in mind I went to dinky high schools where only like 20 students took calculus every year and Cal II would never be offered.) But today? I've forgotten all of it. I've forgotten all the algebra II I took my freshman year, too, and pretty much everything about every chemistry class I ever took.
I'm better with the big-concept stuff, like history or literature. There's more room for bullshit there, and you can talk about theories and consequences without getting bogged down in details like dates or which king was actually leading England at that time, if you throw in enough superfluous information.
So tonight I was driving home, again baffled at things I've forgotten, when I decided to try to think of everything that is taking up the room in my brain where calculus and chemistry and physics and whatnot used to be.
--I know a lot more song lyrics than I used to, and I still remember the lyrics to all those soft-rock songs and musical numbers that my mom listened to when I was a kid. So I figure that's a good portion, right there, because there's a lot of songs out there and I love singing along to them, preferably loudly and slightly off-key. Fist pumping is optional.
--Books. I'm more well-read than I was in high school and even in college, when the reading was required. I told one of my grad school professors that I spent more time reading narrative nonfiction books than doing work for her narrative nonfiction class, and looking back, it wasn't a mistake to do all the reading but it was a mistake to tell her that.
--Sports stuff. I didn't have to remember Jacoby Ellsbury's birthday before he joined the Red Sox and became unbearably awesome. I also didn't have to know anything about cyclists, bicycle engineering and mechanics or European races prior to meeting Dan.
--Dan's family history. There's four kids, and he's the youngest, and he's got a sister-in-law and two nieces and there are tons of aunts and uncles and it's an ongoing headache.
--Celebrity gossip. One of the blogs I follow distills everything into a handy twice-a-day bullet-pointed listing, which I read when I'm waiting on my e-mail at work to load.
--Health care. When I was in high school, I had this little pocket-sized notebook I'd fill with descriptions of bizarre diseases (like Prader-Willi syndrome) and concepts (a fetus is a lot like a tumor) because I was a weird kid and kinda pretentious. I never shared or showed this notebook to anyone, but I liked thinking I could diagnose someone's problem and save them the trip to the ER or something, probably. Today, I know about even more useless stuff (the hemicorporectomy) and also a lot of useful things, like health disparities and preventive medicine and the names of PR people and their phone numbers at their office, since I don't know how to program their numbers into my work phone.
--Beer. I still know jack shit about liquor and wine, but I'm slowly learning more about beer. And granted, I don't know a lot, but it's more than I used to and I know what I like and that's the most important thing, right?
--How many miles past an oil change I can go in my car. Because my old car would spontaneously die even if I'd just gotten an oil change.
(And in case you were wondering, I know I can get at least 5,000 past the recommended mileage.)
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Couch Sleeping
For some reason, I was just not able to fall asleep on Sunday. I was tossing and turning in bed, throwing blankets off and then pulling them back on, trying to breathe deep and think of the color black, and it wasn't working. It didn't even work when I got up and went to my loveseat and curled up on there.
I did finally fall asleep, around 3 a.m., and it was back in bed and not on my short couch. When I was a kid, I used to turn around and sleep with my head at the foot of my bed on nights when I couldn't fall asleep. As a last resort, I'd trundle myself into my parents' bedroom and sleep on the floor on there, usually near the dog.
Today, the couch is my go-to place for when I can't sleep. It's awkward in my apartment, since my couch is so short. (It really is a loveseat.) It's nice at Dan's place, since he has a long and wide hand-me-down couch from a friend's parents. They bought nice furniture, quality stuff, and when they replaced their living room stuff, he got a couch and a loveseat. I've napped on both, slept on both, and even today I'll still spend the night on there occasionally. Usually it's when Dan is extremely drunk and won't stop snoring/taking up obnoxious amounts of the bed, but whatever. It's still good.
My parents' couches have been through cycles. They used to have a really good one, then got rid of it for a couch that was slightly shorter and narrower, juuuust enough smaller to make one have to pay attention where to put the pillow. If you tried to move too far down, you'd end up cramped. Now they have another couch, and it's leather, and frankly, I'm afraid of sliding off it.
There was a leather couch in the science journalism lounge at BU that was marvelous. It was scrounged by one of the students a year ahead of us, and this thing was long, deep, worn and so comfortable. It wasn't uncommon for a few of us to curl up on it between classes. A lot of last-minute studying happened on that couch. I spent the night on it once, too. It was a Friday, and some of us stuck around to get drunk off the free beer and wine offered to some grad student tour thing or some such. We drank a ridiculous amount down there, then snuck bottles of beer and wine into the lounge (we all learned how to jimmy the lock open, since there weren't enough keys to go around).
Long story short, I proceeded to get shit-faced and was also having a mental breakdown of sorts, related to my own neuroticisms and fears of the future spiraling out of control, and Eric was the one who put me to bed on the couch when everyone else left to go catch the last train. I slept there until about 7 a.m. the next morning, then stumbled down the stairs, out of the building and out to wait for the train back to my own bed. The couch was damn comfortable. I miss that couch.
I know Dan will sleep on the couch--he's actually probably the person who got me into serious couch sleeping. Before we dated, when we were just friends and he had a jealous girlfriend, I'd sleep on his couch at his apartment occasionally after we'd been up late watching dumb movies on TV. She was too jealous for me to have ever thought about taking the bed, even if he volunteered it and took the couch himself. Someday, when we have a place together, I want to have a long, wide couch that comfortably naps two people. It'll also be a great place for me to go on nights when I just can't fall asleep on the bed.
I did finally fall asleep, around 3 a.m., and it was back in bed and not on my short couch. When I was a kid, I used to turn around and sleep with my head at the foot of my bed on nights when I couldn't fall asleep. As a last resort, I'd trundle myself into my parents' bedroom and sleep on the floor on there, usually near the dog.
Today, the couch is my go-to place for when I can't sleep. It's awkward in my apartment, since my couch is so short. (It really is a loveseat.) It's nice at Dan's place, since he has a long and wide hand-me-down couch from a friend's parents. They bought nice furniture, quality stuff, and when they replaced their living room stuff, he got a couch and a loveseat. I've napped on both, slept on both, and even today I'll still spend the night on there occasionally. Usually it's when Dan is extremely drunk and won't stop snoring/taking up obnoxious amounts of the bed, but whatever. It's still good.
My parents' couches have been through cycles. They used to have a really good one, then got rid of it for a couch that was slightly shorter and narrower, juuuust enough smaller to make one have to pay attention where to put the pillow. If you tried to move too far down, you'd end up cramped. Now they have another couch, and it's leather, and frankly, I'm afraid of sliding off it.
There was a leather couch in the science journalism lounge at BU that was marvelous. It was scrounged by one of the students a year ahead of us, and this thing was long, deep, worn and so comfortable. It wasn't uncommon for a few of us to curl up on it between classes. A lot of last-minute studying happened on that couch. I spent the night on it once, too. It was a Friday, and some of us stuck around to get drunk off the free beer and wine offered to some grad student tour thing or some such. We drank a ridiculous amount down there, then snuck bottles of beer and wine into the lounge (we all learned how to jimmy the lock open, since there weren't enough keys to go around).
Long story short, I proceeded to get shit-faced and was also having a mental breakdown of sorts, related to my own neuroticisms and fears of the future spiraling out of control, and Eric was the one who put me to bed on the couch when everyone else left to go catch the last train. I slept there until about 7 a.m. the next morning, then stumbled down the stairs, out of the building and out to wait for the train back to my own bed. The couch was damn comfortable. I miss that couch.
I know Dan will sleep on the couch--he's actually probably the person who got me into serious couch sleeping. Before we dated, when we were just friends and he had a jealous girlfriend, I'd sleep on his couch at his apartment occasionally after we'd been up late watching dumb movies on TV. She was too jealous for me to have ever thought about taking the bed, even if he volunteered it and took the couch himself. Someday, when we have a place together, I want to have a long, wide couch that comfortably naps two people. It'll also be a great place for me to go on nights when I just can't fall asleep on the bed.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Art Form
I've worked a long time, many years, to perfect the need to blog. It only comes when I have something else I should be doing. Tonight, it's my stories for the paper, but what the hell. I'll take 10 minutes before I do anything real.
The holidays were a bit of a whirlwind of bad weather, long weekends, time wasted at work when no one else in the city was at their desks, and spending time with family and friends and the horses. Dan got off a few days, and for the first time ever (in five years, no less) we saw each other for Christmas. Well, ok, it wasn't on Christmas, but it was Christmas Eve, and you can tell it was true love because it was a disaster on the roads, took 40 minutes to see him, we spent 40 minutes together and then each took off for two-hour drives to our respective families when each of those drives normally take only a half-hour in good weather.
Anyway. Last week was a long one, primarily because of a frigid spell that froze up the pipes at the barn and required me to drive out twice a day to haul water buckets for the horses to drink. It was a pain in the ass, but in some ways I liked it. It gave every day a structure. I'd get up, pile on layers, pull on a hat, lug buckets back and forth, feed the horses treats, go home and do it again in 10 hours.
This week I've been seized with the urge to write again. After a month and a half off from the novel from National Novel Writing Month, I think I'm ready to return again, mostly to add more scenes, more background, more cursing, more bad decisions. I know November has come and gone, and a lot of things since then, but I'll admit it still makes to proud to know I can do it. I can write a book while having a full-time newspaper job, a relationship and a horse. Granted, it was probably crap and I didn't sleep much for the whole month, but who cares? That's what they make Diet Coke for. To keep you churning out crap.
(Coffee is the thing that keeps me churning out newspaper story crap. I applied for a fellowship in Boston after being encouraged to apply by the director, and then they chose to give the Texas spot to the Dallas Morning News. The fucking DMN, who has far more resources and more reporters than our paper will ever have. An aside, I know, but I'm still angry. And turning out crap. At least a fellowship may have given me some help in the crap department. And it would have been in Boston. This month marks three years since I moved back to Fort Worth from Boston. Fuck.)
I don't remember where I was going with any of this. I guess I don't have a point. I'm kinda scattered at the moment, which means I probably shouldn't sit down and churn out a story, but who gives a fuck? Maybe it makes me a more brilliant writer.
I think I'll get back into regular blogging soon, as soon as I settle into a routine again. I converted myself into a morning person (que horror!) with daylight savings and have been going to the barn to ride at daybreak, since there's no sun or light by the time I get out there after work. Now I've added a gym routine to my post-work hours, and I'm still working on getting that to fit with other things, like reading, blogging, watching inordinate amounts of Showtime dramas with Netflix.
Some thoughts before I go:
I'm terrifically happy for Andrew and Annie, who got engaged. He was a freshman photographer when I was a senior editor at the college paper, and now he's finishing grad school. We're still friends. He makes me feel partially hip and with it, and partially just like fucking old balls. I'm excited for both of them!
They started mysterious road construction outside my apartment. While not as bad as the jackhammers that would occasionally grace the road outside our place in Boston, it's still pretty offending on the few mornings I can actually sleep in and not go to the barn.
I'm crossing my fingers for Dan on Friday. I don't want to get into it, and I don't want to get my hopes up too much, but I'm hopeful. Wishing. Hopeful. Not the same thing, but I guess I'm both.
I don't want to jinx it, but I think the paycheck we get next Friday will be the fourth one that is normal and non-furlough. I will still have to move out of my apartment when my lease is up, though, and go back to roommates. (Fucking roommates.) The furloughs did a number on my savings (wiped it out) and credit card (ran it up) and it's just not smart to stay here.
Dan got me Eddie Izzard tickets for Christmas. He's in Dallas Jan. 21, and I'm expecting greatness--when we saw him in Austin a few years ago, I nearly keeled over from the awesomeness of it all. I'll report back then and hopefully have some bizarre quotes to share.
(Last time we saw him perform, I took a notepad. Yeah. I know, right? In my purse. And wrote down quotes that I thought were hilarious. Maybe I'll do the same, since goodness knows I'm no less dorky than I was then.)
(My 'thoughts' are as long as the actual blog post body, I think.)
The holidays were a bit of a whirlwind of bad weather, long weekends, time wasted at work when no one else in the city was at their desks, and spending time with family and friends and the horses. Dan got off a few days, and for the first time ever (in five years, no less) we saw each other for Christmas. Well, ok, it wasn't on Christmas, but it was Christmas Eve, and you can tell it was true love because it was a disaster on the roads, took 40 minutes to see him, we spent 40 minutes together and then each took off for two-hour drives to our respective families when each of those drives normally take only a half-hour in good weather.
Anyway. Last week was a long one, primarily because of a frigid spell that froze up the pipes at the barn and required me to drive out twice a day to haul water buckets for the horses to drink. It was a pain in the ass, but in some ways I liked it. It gave every day a structure. I'd get up, pile on layers, pull on a hat, lug buckets back and forth, feed the horses treats, go home and do it again in 10 hours.
This week I've been seized with the urge to write again. After a month and a half off from the novel from National Novel Writing Month, I think I'm ready to return again, mostly to add more scenes, more background, more cursing, more bad decisions. I know November has come and gone, and a lot of things since then, but I'll admit it still makes to proud to know I can do it. I can write a book while having a full-time newspaper job, a relationship and a horse. Granted, it was probably crap and I didn't sleep much for the whole month, but who cares? That's what they make Diet Coke for. To keep you churning out crap.
(Coffee is the thing that keeps me churning out newspaper story crap. I applied for a fellowship in Boston after being encouraged to apply by the director, and then they chose to give the Texas spot to the Dallas Morning News. The fucking DMN, who has far more resources and more reporters than our paper will ever have. An aside, I know, but I'm still angry. And turning out crap. At least a fellowship may have given me some help in the crap department. And it would have been in Boston. This month marks three years since I moved back to Fort Worth from Boston. Fuck.)
I don't remember where I was going with any of this. I guess I don't have a point. I'm kinda scattered at the moment, which means I probably shouldn't sit down and churn out a story, but who gives a fuck? Maybe it makes me a more brilliant writer.
I think I'll get back into regular blogging soon, as soon as I settle into a routine again. I converted myself into a morning person (que horror!) with daylight savings and have been going to the barn to ride at daybreak, since there's no sun or light by the time I get out there after work. Now I've added a gym routine to my post-work hours, and I'm still working on getting that to fit with other things, like reading, blogging, watching inordinate amounts of Showtime dramas with Netflix.
Some thoughts before I go:
I'm terrifically happy for Andrew and Annie, who got engaged. He was a freshman photographer when I was a senior editor at the college paper, and now he's finishing grad school. We're still friends. He makes me feel partially hip and with it, and partially just like fucking old balls. I'm excited for both of them!
They started mysterious road construction outside my apartment. While not as bad as the jackhammers that would occasionally grace the road outside our place in Boston, it's still pretty offending on the few mornings I can actually sleep in and not go to the barn.
I'm crossing my fingers for Dan on Friday. I don't want to get into it, and I don't want to get my hopes up too much, but I'm hopeful. Wishing. Hopeful. Not the same thing, but I guess I'm both.
I don't want to jinx it, but I think the paycheck we get next Friday will be the fourth one that is normal and non-furlough. I will still have to move out of my apartment when my lease is up, though, and go back to roommates. (Fucking roommates.) The furloughs did a number on my savings (wiped it out) and credit card (ran it up) and it's just not smart to stay here.
Dan got me Eddie Izzard tickets for Christmas. He's in Dallas Jan. 21, and I'm expecting greatness--when we saw him in Austin a few years ago, I nearly keeled over from the awesomeness of it all. I'll report back then and hopefully have some bizarre quotes to share.
(Last time we saw him perform, I took a notepad. Yeah. I know, right? In my purse. And wrote down quotes that I thought were hilarious. Maybe I'll do the same, since goodness knows I'm no less dorky than I was then.)
(My 'thoughts' are as long as the actual blog post body, I think.)
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